Archive for April, 2009

So confused have I been over my blogging pursuits that I devoted my entire therapy session on Monday to hashing it out. And it worked, yet again! Therapy is so amazing like that. In case anyone was holding her breath waiting to see if my art blog and this blog would become one, the answer is: No. I’ve decided that they fill very different needs and there simply is nothing wrong with having more than one, and that it would be weird to have all of my personal parts waving about in the open.  I’m going to be a part of a collaborative, somewhat formal art-writing blog that will start in a few months, and once that happens my art blog might morph into something more general/personal/specific, but this one will stay the same. Whew! I’m glad I finally got the identity crises out of the way– at least for a while.

* I’ve also realized I want to write more often on this blog, without thinking much about having something particularly clever or eloquent to say, and without gentle transitions between topics.

Maddie’s dying did a number on me. In addition to the sadness for the loss of this beautiful girl that had become our little friend, her dying summoned back my waves of dread/paranoia, the need to constantly check to make sure A. is breathing. I had begun to get better about this, with the OCD quelled to near-harmlessness, because we have about reached the 12 month adjusted age milestone where suddenly the constant barrage of SIDS warnings backs off. So many invitations to be afraid everywhere you look, it seems.  If it’s not the ALL CAPS warnings on their little chickie clothes warning of FLAMMABILITY (do babies spontaneously burst into flames?), it’s a renegade plastic bag suffocation device lurking in a dark corner or a piece of food nugget of death inviting inhalation. It can wear on one’s nerves, this constant reminder to be on the edge of one’s seat. Sometimes it’s hard to negotiate the edge-of-the-seat feeling and the happy forgetting of that feeling so that I can enjoy life with my baby. I guess it’s a matter of learning to live happily on the edge of one’s seat. Or vacillating back and forth wildly.

Today Wifey and I and my mom and dad are taking Mister Finn on his first trip to the zoo. He will see a giraffe for the first time. I wonder what it’s like to see a giraffe for the first time? It is a gorgeous sunny day. Hopefully we’ll hear a lion roar.

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Musing on Fusing

I’m (more) seriously thinking of melding together my art blog and this blog into one new blog. Then there would be just one me out in the big world for people to read about instead of two. The thought of it feels scary and liberating. I suppose there’d have to be some editing, but maybe that wouldn’t be too hard?  Part of the scariness is that the art world is pretty much the opposite of warm and fuzzy, and I’d have to be more careful than I am here. I’m going to look more at other artists who have personal, public blogs.

I am still working on what the title would be.

What do you, dear reader, think of this idea?

How would you feel about me linking to your blog on the new blog?

fyi: my art blog is:  gettingtoknowyoubetter-at-wordpress.com

Please please please tell me what you think about this merger….  If you don’t, I might cry. Just kidding.

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Dear ones.


Motherfucker of the universe.

Today I wanted to see how mamaspohr is doing and found

her condolences

for another




I am combing the internet trying to find out what happened to sweet Thalon, wanting an explanation.

Because it can’t be.

Yes. I know people die. But these are two sweet babies in the same blogging community, in the same week.  I didn’t know Thalon like I “knew” Maddie. But their parents’ grief is the same.

Whatever the reason is, it is not good enough.

These sweet ones can not be just plucked off the earth.

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Maddie and her family are still in my thoughts. The sadness has been an undercurrent that’s been creeping up on me the past few days.

I thought I’d pass along some info about how ANYONE can help them. Meghan at A Mom Two Boys has set up a PayPal account to accept donations for Maddie’s service and to help her mom and dad in a financially difficult time. At Heather and Mike’s request, TONS of people have given TONS of money to the March of Dimes on behalf of Maddie —which is wonderful— but I think this little family needs more help than the March of Dimes at this point. I could only afford to give $20, which I worried was too pitiful a sum to bother with, but then I thought if all of you lovelies gave $20 or even $5 it would add up to an amount that could make a real difference in their world. They need any help we can give them. Just visit Meghan’s site– she’s got it all set up with a fancy PayPal button I wasn’t skilled enough to recreate myself.

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My heart is in my stomach this morning and tears are falling on Mister Finn’s head as I write this, because I’ve just learned that a sweet baby internet-friend died yesterday. Her blog, The Spohrs Are Multiplying, is presently rendered dysfunctional due to the influx of comments. I’ve gathered that Maddie died in the PICU while being treated for lung-related issues. Her lungs were prone to infection and she has had several serious breathing battles in her one and a half years. Though, overall, my impression was that she was healthy.  She is/was/is a beautiful little girl, always ready to smile, and quite photogenic with dark, long moviestar eyelashes.

Sometimes I think about what Anne Lamott wrote in Operating Instructions, about how her feelings about life changed once she had Sam.  She talks about how before Sam was born, she didn’t feel particularly attached to her life, relatively OK with things coming and going.  Post-Sam, she felt utterly desperate for Life, desperate for his life, begging God that he may live; that he would outlive her. She describes this desperate state as being “fucked unto the Lord.”



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Drinking Game

Mister Finn fed me water the other day. It felt like a big deal– a big milestone. I was holding my glass up to his mouth so he could lap at my water (he prefers this ritual to the sippy cup), and he very determinedly took it in both hands and directed it to my mouth. He was very intent and focused –almost concerned– and was not satisfied until I took a few good sips. (He was acting just like me when I offer him my glass.) Then I offered the glass to him again, he accepted, and then he offered it to me again. We went back and forth like this about ten times. It was all very serious and we drank a lot of water. Now it is Something We Do. It feels like a method of communication.

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Sick Chickie

Our little guy is sick with a bad cold he got from ME.  I know it means nothing that he got it from me, yet it feels defeating somehow. Cough, 3 day fever, and today snotworks. Sweet sick chickie. He still has small stretches playing on the floor talking to his toys, but mostly he has been draped on top of me nursing constantly. I haven’t bothered to put on a bra in many days. This morning during his nap (first one in his bed in many days!) he choked on snot during a sleeping coughing fit and I think he couldn’t catch his breath because he sounded so scared, crying. So I picked him up and he threw up copiously all over both of us. So, stripping, showering, bathing. Then the synagis fairy came and gave him two shots in his sweet sick chickie thighs. A hard morning! Little guy.



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