Guess Which Weekend Event Is False

Allow me to sum up my weekend... One of the following is not true:

1. E ate a Tootsie Pop for breakfast on Saturday morning.
2. On Sunday, I sat down on an old chair.
3. It shattered.
4. My foot hit the underside of the table when I fell.
5. I broke my toe.
6. I spent an hour in the ER getting wheeled around, x-rayed, and set up with crutches and a boot.
7. The doctor demonstrated how the human foot moves by running his hand up and down my thigh.
8. The nurse was the same nurse who I thought was kidnapping E from the nursery when I was in the maternity ward 2 years ago. I told him that and recounted me stumbling through the nursery door at 4am and demanding, "What's going on!?"
9. He said, "I'll never forget that..."

Note to Self: Always Wear Pants

Yesterday, I put on my skinny jeans. Ugh. They fit okay in the waist… even though I haven’t run in the last two weeks and still have a weakness for mini-cans of Coca Cola (Lord, help me), but they were snug in the legs, so when we got home, sitting on the floor with E was a bit of a challenge. I shook them off and opted to run around in a t-shirt and undies. Our apartment is on the third floor and always gets too hot anyway, so I was comfortable.

I went about making some dinner, boiling some macaroni. E must have shared my feelings about the 80-degree kitchen. As soon as she spilled a bit of milk on her shirt, it was a good enough excuse to wrestle her way out of it. Ok.

At that moment, the timer for the macaroni beeped, then the corn.

From the stove, I glanced over my shoulder to check on E. She was over in the corner, by the door, up to something – I think she was hoarding a piece of cracker she found on the floor.

“What do you have?” I asked suspiciously.

That was enough to trigger her flight instinct. She grabbed the doorknob in a storm of giggles. She could only get the door open about a half-foot, so I waited to see what she would do. Apparently, that was all she needed to squirm through. I rushed to her side, reached for her arm, but she quickly made it outside and into the hallway.

I ran after her, forgetting that we live in a building that has one other apartment and a business on the other side of the hall, and that I was in my underwear…

I realized my situation once I was in the hall, pant-less, in a very public, drafty place. I hid behind a corner wall and peeked around to see where E was. She was standing against the opposite wall, no shirt on, giggling, next to one of the office doors, waiting for my next move.

I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, as no one had come out of the office yet, and it was 5:00 PM -- only a matter of time before the end-of-business-day mass-exodus.

“Ellie! Come here!” I whisper-yelled.

She laughed harder.

“Ellie, right now!!” a little louder…

I heard some commotion on the other side of the office door, so I ducked back into our apartment. Most of the employees know me and E, so I wasn’t too worried about someone finding her out there. I might just look like a not-so-great mom who has no idea where my half-dressed kid is... I ran in my bedroom and grabbed my jeans, throwing them on quickly.

I ran back out in the hall. Someone had come out of the office and must have scared her. She was now standing, pouting, terrified outside our door. I quickly pulled her inside.

I told her that she couldn’t just leave whenever she wanted – that I didn’t want to lose her or have her get hurt out there, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. I’ll do better next time.

No burnt food, slightly over-cooked macaroni, and no one saw me in my skivvies. I'm counting this as a parenting win.

Luke At Me Now

If you read the papers, you’ll know that Luke Perry has recently made an astonishing comeback via a hip, new, reality blog!

Over at the Luke at Me Now site, you can follow the “misadventures of a Luke Perry doll” as he travels New England and gets into all kinds of fun and trouble! Friends Melissa and Lisa have been journeying alongside Luke, documenting his every waking moment and sharing his thoughts and photos with friends and fans worldwide.

I was lucky enough to get a chance to sit down with Luke, Melissa, and Lisa this week to ask them about this new reality-blog sensation and Luke’s re-rise to fame: 

• Lisa, how did you get the idea to collaborate with (Little) Luke on this project?
  Luke was staying with a friend of mine in IL for this meditation retreat, and he’d been talking about moving to New England so that he could work on his memoir and just detach from the Hollywood scene for a bit. So my friend put me in touch with Luke, and the rest is history! Just to maintain a little bit of anonymity, I won’t reveal where Luke is currently staying.
• Luke, what was your reaction when Lisa approached you about this project, and how did you feel about suddenly throwing yourself back into the “Luke-light”?“Luke-light.” I like that. Can I steal that? Anyway, I had originally moved to Vermont to work on my memoir and just commune with nature. But Lisa’s friends were really eager to find out what makes me tick, which I totally understand, because I’m pretty awesome. So a blog was a natural choice. And when you, Gretchin, got on board as the designer of the blog, well, it was like kismet. And it’s not as invasive as a reality TV show, so I was cool with it. I mean, I really don’t want anyone to catch me coming out of the shower, although you would be impressed with the view.
• Oh, gosh, it was really no trouble at all (blushes).
• Lisa, what is your working relationship like with Luke? Do you two work well together?
  Luke is really easy to get along with and he’s pretty much up for anything, as you can see from the blog. We’ve grown pretty close over the past few weeks, and I think we’ll be lifelong friends, even if he does decide to move back to LA.
• Luke, many of your fans (me included, ahem) were pleased to see the “gun show” this week. How do you manage to stay in such great shape?
  Oh, thank you, thank you. I like to please the ladies, for sure, so that can be a motivation. And I just want to be awesome forever. That’s my goal.
• Luke, what do you look for in a significant other (giggles)?
  Besides tall women with luscious curls named Gretchin? (Smile.) Well, I like my girl to be adventurous, smart, funny, and sweet. She also has to be kind to animals. That’s a must.
• Oh my word... (giggles).
• Melissa, what’s it been like photographing the great Luke Perry?
It’s been a blast! Luke and I go way back, so it’s always nice when we get to spend some time together and traipse around different locations. As far as photographing him, he makes my job incredibly easy… am I right ladies??

• Lisa, do you have any long-term plans for Luke’s adventures?I’m hoping that we can take some trips outside of New England. Luke’s traveled the world, but now he’s in a place where he can truly be a tourist. It helps that he doesn’t mind getting his picture taken, especially when there’s a lovely woman behind the camera.
  
• Melissa, how has it been touring New England with Luke? Does he travel well?
He’s a diva. (I kid…) He’s incredibly reflective and introspective at times during travel, and dichotomously outlandish and adventurous, showing off his increasing flexibility and pliance, as well as his aforementioned awesomeness. He’s been a trooper about the locations and has really taken it upon himself to get into some risky positions to help us get shots we only dreamed about taking. He’s really quite versatile… and an extremely light traveler… less is definitely more with Luke.

• Lisa, Melissa, where is Luke off to next?
  Only Luke knows!

Well, it was truly a lovely experience sitting down with these three! Thank you all for your time! I'll see you next time over at Luke At Me Now!

Things I've Hit With My Car

I've hit a lot of things with my car. But, yesterday's road casualty was one of the more embarrassing.

I've made a diagram to prove to the jury that there really was nothing I could do to prevent this little mishap.

Almost every afternoon, E and I go to the elementary school park before school lets out. Guests are allowed, and I've been really impressed with how the teachers treated us when the kids did come out to play before we left. One male teacher in particular told the students that we were guests at their playground, and that they needed to show us respect -- to give E some room to play on the preschool structures.

The only problem is that there is limited parking. I finally found a spot right near the bus lane, as you'll see from the diagram above. When I found that spot, the bus lane cones hadn't yet been put out. When E and I left the park, the cones were in place. The teal cone was about 3 feet tall and visible from my rear-view mirror.

The yellow cone was approximately 2 inches tall and quite possibly a cone at a crosswalk, outside a school for ants. I couldn't see it in my rear view mirror.

I'd like to state for the jury that the time of departure was approximately 2:45pm. I remember this, because I had packed some snacks in the car and declared 2:45pm officially, "donut time." School lets out at 3, so no buses were in the parking lot.

I knew that, in order to back out of this parking spot, I would need to carefully avoid the teal cone and partially back into the bus lane. I thought this would be fine since, as I mentioned, no buses had arrived, and I could see no other obstruction in my rear-view mirror.

I slowly proceeded until I heard a loud crunch. Confused, I checked all my mirrors, and I happened to notice a flash of movement. A woman with gray hair, bifocals, and a neon-green striped sweater came flying out the side door of the school. She was waving her arms and screaming.

My first thought: "I've hit a child." My heart skipped a beat. "No, a dog... it was probably a dog." My breathing slowed only slightly. My next thought, I kid you not was, "That wasn't bumpy enough to have been a kid."

The woman frantically signaled for me to roll down my window... or churn butter. I couldn't tell. I rolled down my window anyway. "You, you..." she said, breathless.

She reached under my car and pulled out the smallest caution cone I've ever seen in my life. Huge sigh of relief on my part. "You hit this!" she screamed. I wish I had a magnifying glass to whip out at that very moment, or at least a monocle.

"Oh, that ol' thing? Sorry, I couldn't see it in my rear-view mirror."
"You can't just drive through the bus lane, you know!!"
(Because I was totally going all Grand Theft Auto through the bus lane, that had no buses in it, in reverse.)

Hold the snark, G... Hold the snark. I tried to be my own referee.

"Would you like to point out an alternate route for me to take?" I asked, through a fake smile.

She gave me a dismissive wave that was more like an air-slap -- the teacher version of flipping me 'the bird,' I presumed. "Yeah, screw you too," I thought.

I got home and told Mark that if a teacher ever treats my child like that, I'm going to lose it... in an all-out, Uncle-Buck kinda way. Heaven forbid someone makes a mistake that costs the school a $3.00 road cone.

Other things I've hit with my car: a poor little bunny rabbit, a red squirrel (Dad says the squirrel doesn't count, that I was doing the community a favor -- Agent G, squirrel assassin, at your service!), a tree branch, the usual curbs and snowbanks, a wooden plank, jumper cables, a large community of mating frogs.

One time, I took out the side porch steps at my parents' house with the riding lawnmower. Does that count?

Dreams

(shakes my head) Last night, I had a dream that everyone in our office was from the cast of Glee... Cory Monteith was there, which was strange, because everyone knew he had died. They were piecing together sections of old footage from the show to create his death scene in the current series.

Then there was a very serious scene with him, Tom Cruise, and that kid from Neverending Story. Not to make light of it, but... Best Death Scene Ever! A tribute fit for a king, I'd say.

Then, during a break in filming, I sat down with a few of my work friends. I was saying how hard it was not having Mark's help around the house in the afternoon. One of my friends spoke up and said, "You know, you could keep a man around for 'support' reasons only. It's very common."

I woke up with all kinds of strange ideas in my head. Could I hire a valet a la Downton Abbey?

And, what did he mean by "support"?

My mind wandered...

Photo from PantingsOnCanvas.net. Also, doesn't that dancing girl look just like me!?

You Say Potato

To keep E occupied tonight, I had her help me peel potatoes using a spoon. I sat in the living room with a bucket for the peels and started working. She marched around the apartment with her potato and spoon. She'd stop by the bucket when a peel would fall next to it and help me put the peels in the garbage.

When I finished peeling, I set the dish of my potatoes on a TV tray and stepped into the kitchen to start the water boiling.

When I came back to grab the potatoes, I found this...

Grandpa Joe

Yes, we're still in Willy Wonka land over here... so, had to share.

Image Found Here

Mine!

My sweet E is running around all day and night, pointing at different objects and screaming, "Mine!"

Usually these include anything I'm eating, her shoes, and toys.

Then there are these...

Genie Bra Re-Review

When I first started this blog, I used to create lots of goofy info-graphics, taking my often lofty, naive ideas about things and showing them in a more realistic light.

I decided to do the same with the Genie Bra. In my original, casual review of the Genie Bra, I wrote a silly post about it not being invented by a genie and added a Photoshopped image of a woman whose breasts were clearly fighting a losing battle with gravity.

The company contacted me, apologized for my disappointment, and even offered to send me two new bras, more suited for my body type -- the Milana bras. I graciously accepted!

They arrived last week, but Mark has been on laundry duty in the evenings while I've been busy doing (ahem) medium readings, and working on a new creative project that I hope to have wrapped up by the end of the month. Our paths just haven't crossed at laundry time, and the Genie Bra hand-off didn't happen until last night, when I finally got all my dirty clothes together.

This morning, I woke up and pulled the Genie Bra out of the dryer. I decided to wear only this bra all day -- to put it to the full test. I mean, I didn't do jumping-jacks or anything, but I did load the dishwasher, which is pretty much the same thing for me.

First, I want to say that I absolutely love the look of this bra and the feel of the material. It's cozy, and supportive. It looks like a nice tanktop and has a pretty, lacy overlay that can be slightly exposed with a V-neck for a nice, layering effect. I really didn't want to put anything else on over it but decided to anyway... because I didn't want to end up in a real-life episode of Seinfeld.

I did find this version of the bra to be much more supportive than the first Genie Bra I had. I can easily see myself wearing it for a full work day.

As for the cons:

1. Though Mark later admitted that he dried all my clothes on the "Extra Heat" setting, I still found it unusual that one of the bra's cup inserts (the left one) migrated inside the bra during the washing and drying process. The bra is completely sewn shut, so I had to move the insert blindly through the fabric to get it into its proper place on the left side.
2. I still didn't feel like this bra was quite as supportive as my regular one. After 12 hours, there was some "slight slippage," as you'll see below.
3. I also didn't like the seams on either side of the bra. In certain lighting, and when wearing tighter shirts, um. Oh, I'll just say it... they look like nipples -- two small, sad, droopy nipples.

That said, I'll continue to wear the Milana Genie Bra to work daily. I only work part time, so I dress for comfort and a reasonable amount of support. As for the awkwardly-placed seams... well, it's cold on my side of the office anyway.

All joking aside, this is a great product. It does what it says for a reasonable price. Since having my daughter, anything too restricting makes me very uncomfortable, and this bra has just the right balance of support and comfort. I give it the YMIS vote of approval!

You Know It's Time to Clean Out the Car When...

You have a rogue Combos bag attempting every means of escape. No matter where I throw it, it somehow makes its way to the floor of the driver's side of the car. From there, it turns into a jet-propelled paper airplane every time I open the car door.

Yesterday, I got E all buckled into her car seat, lunches set neatly in the front passenger seat. I walked around to the driver side, swung the door open, and it escaped.

A woman was walking into our building, and I imagined the rogue Combos bag flying up and getting plastered across her face, hair whipping in the wind, arms flailing, purse tumbling to the ground, cosmetics rolling across the parking lot.

I dove to the ground and caught it at her feet. I giggled nervously... "Uh... just having my morning cup of coffee and bag of Combos," I joked. She smiled politely, judgmentally.

I stuffed the bag down onto the floor of the passenger side of the car, as I hopped back in. It also smells... there must be a used diaper wedged under one of the seats. It's like a strange mix of urine and junk food. My biggest fear is that one of my coworker's is going to suggest car-pooling somewhere, so I've come up with a list of excuses just in case:

1. There's no gas in my car.
2. I got a ride with, um, Lance...a..lot this morning.
3. Sure, if you don't mind riding with my 2 pit-bulls!
4. Better not, I spilled seafood gumbo all over the back seat last night.
5. Eh, sorry... drove the smart car today.

I'm Happy

I have no first world problems to complain about today! No baby keeping me up until the wee hours of the night. No lack of good food and snacks in the fridge. No running out of dip before finishing my chips...

E is sitting on my lap watching Blue's Clues as I write this. She just whipped around and quickly pointed a finger right at my nose. I must have looked cross-eyed staring down at her finger. "NOOO!!!" she yelled. I searched my brain for what I did to offend her until I realized she was pointing out my "nose." Oh my gosh she cracks me up sometimes.

Mark brought her a tulip plant for Valentine's Day, and she's been obsessed with giving it "drinks" and talking to it to encourage it to grow. She says "Love you!" and blows kisses to the plant. And sure enough, already, the little flowers bloomed. I was a little concerned after she showed them some tough love this week by pinching the flower buds and twisting the stems. But, they seem as in love with her as I am, even after she squeezes my nose too hard or pulls my hair.

I also found a great forum on spirituality over the weekend. So far I love the people I've met and have already found some great resources for research. I feel lots of love and positive energy in my life right now, and it's wonderful!

Oh.

Me: My Wacom won't work! It's a mess. I spent the last 2 hours restarting and reinstalling all the drivers. I googled this particular issue and found out that this sometimes happens after you unplug it and plug it back in... Why did you unplug it?? Now, according to this site, I have to reload the drivers under admin, not a normal user. Then I have to log in as admin every time I want to use the tablet... And, and... This article about this particular problem is 2 years old. Don't you think they would have resolved this problem by now? Probably not... They don't care if the only 2 hours of freedom I get in a day are taken up researching this issue...!! (grumble, grumble, sigh)

Mark: Did you try plugging it into the other port?

Me: (blank stare)

[2-second fix]

Nathan Fillion Saves Date Night

So, last night was our first official "date night." I suggested making an official weekly night for us as part of my overall cleaning schedule/plan for household harmony. We ordered Chinese food, but E ended up getting to bed later than planned, so we ate dinner with her. By the time we got her to bed, it was almost 9:30. Boy, was I sleepy. Not only that, the elastic in my underwear was starting to give.

When I had my hospital visit 2 weekends ago, Mark had packed a bag of all my favorite clothes (including undergarments) to bring to me. He packed about 6 pairs of underwear. Then he accidentally left them in his sister's car, and we didn't get them until this past weekend. So, I've been wearing my maternity underwear, and they sag now that I'm not... pregnant.

But, besides that... I had to ask him, "Why on God's green Earth did you pack me 6 pairs of underwear?"
He put his hand to his brow and shook his head in defeat, "Gretchin. I told you. I didn't know what had happened. You were sick. I didn't know how long you would be in the hospital. I didn't know if you had pooped your pants."
"Well, I didn't. Let's get that clear. And if I had, I don't think it would have taken 6 pairs of underwear to recover."
"Fine. Listen, I panicked," he said, annoyed.

So, fast forward to after dinner. I'm in the kitchen up to my elbows in my pants, back arched, butt sticking out, trying to pull my maternity underwear up from my knees to where they're supposed to belong. Mark comes around the corner.

"Ummm... What's going on?"
"I'm having a... problem. You weren't supposed to see this. I shouldn't have to explain myself."
"Well, I think you need to."
"My underwear need to be adjusted."
"That much?"
"Yes!"

As soon as I fixed myself, I tried to change the subject, "How are you feeling? You were just in the bathroom long enough to watch the complete Lord of the Rings trilogy."
"I'm okay. Still sick, though."
He then provided more details than necessary... while I checked Facebook and updated the blog.

"Mark, can I tell you something?" I asked.
"Sure."
"This is the worst date I've ever been on. Seriously, what happened to us? Maybe we should play Parcheesi or something. Twister? I don't know... I'm so tired."

I curled up on the couch. Before E was born, we used to love the show Castle. We're big Nathan Fillion fans, and we watched the show religiously. After E, we missed the beginning of Season 5. It was an eventful season, too, with Castle and Beckett finally getting together. I researched the episode history and found out where we left off, and we found out that Hulu had the complete season up to the current episode! So, we cuddled on the couch and watched it together, just like old times (except for a few baby interruptions).

It was sweet, simple. It was us.

Then it was us falling asleep... at 10:30. Ugh. But, I'm optimistic that we'll get better at this "spending time together" thing. We need it!

Date Night!

Tonight is all about US! It's officially date night, which means I shouldn't be blogging... We ordered Chinese food and got E to bed early! Party time! AKA making Mark rub my back until I fall asleep.

Rockabye Mama

Tonight after trying for 2 hours to get E down, I asked for Mark's help. She seems to know he means business and goes to sleep for him within 20 minutes.

When he came in, I decided to stay and see if a joint effort would reduce the time it took her to fall asleep.

I cuddled up next to E and started to talk to her in a soothing voice, "There we go, sweetheart. You're all cozy and ready for bed. And look! You have Mama *and* Dada here to put you to bed tonight. Aren't you lucky? Sweet baby..." As I coddled her and cooed, I started to hear this low sound coming from the other side of the bed -- like a chanting, "Ohhhhmmm haaaayyyyy..... Ahhhhh...." It sounded like a didgeridoo.

I whispered in the dark, "Mark, is that you??"
"Yeah."
"What are you doing??"
"This is what I do."
"What do you mean?"
"This is what I do to get her to sleep."
"And it works??"
"Yeah," nonchalantly.

"Okay...(???) Well I usually sing next..." I started singing Row, Row, Row Your Boat. Then I suggested that we try to sing a round, so he sang it with me. We were quite proud of ourselves!

I asked him, "Do you think you could do a round with Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?"
"You know I can," he replied arrogantly.
I giggled, "Okay," and started singing.

First he came in late.
"You know you have to start right after I sing 'Twinkle, twinkle little star...'"
"No, it's after '...how I wonder what you are.'"
"That doesn't make sense. Think about Row, Row, Row Your Boat."
"I am. I don't think you remember it correctly."
"I think you're all talk, and you can't really do it."
"Gretchin. I got it. Wait, let me sing it once by myself."
"Okay. Ready?"

Finally, we did it! A lovely round of Twinkle Twinkle! Then we looked over at E. She had gotten Mark's cell phone, was lying on her back, holding it up and typing away on it! She sent me this text message: "W: qesqnpl".

Loosely translated, I think it reads: "The student has become the teacher." In other words, my 1-year-old put us to bed tonight... then probably checked her email, Facebook, and checked in on FourSquare at "Ma Crib."

Back Scratch Fever!

I've always been a huuuge fan of back scratches. Not back massages, though I wouldn't turn one down... I just love having my back scratched. It's especially soothing when I'm not feeling well.

Ever since E was born, there's been a shortage of them in our house. During my pregnancy, I was almost always guaranteed an early-to-bed night, watching all the Forensic Files I wanted, eating cookies in bed, while E kicked happily in my belly, and Mark scratched my back until I fell sleep.

Now I'm lucky if I get a "good job" pat on the shoulder sometime between dinner dishes and bath time. Occasionally I get to hit the recliner for a few stolen moments of me-time after E falls asleep and crash soon after. That's the most pampering I get.

As with most things in my life that are lacking, I eventually get to the point where I decide to take matters into my own hands and solve the problem myself.

At 3am this morning, between bathroom visits (almost over this stomach flu!), I googled: automatic back scratchers. I figured that in this age of great technology some genius (with an itch she couldn't scratch) would have devised something.

Here is what I found (right)... The first option is probably the most realistic, though I'm convinced it's secretly a Transformer that will extend its robotic legs and crawl into my brain. I don't trust it. And I just don't feel like the others qualify as "automatic." I have considered suspending a device from the ceiling, though... so I think the cow is on to something!

To add insult to injury, the cat photo came with the caption: "The alternative for lonesome people!" Thanks for the reminder.

There was one other option I found. I'm not sure why, but it didn't include a picture. It's a hand-written description of how the final prototype should be constructed:

Flame from lamp (A) catches on curtain (B) and fire department sends stream of water (C) through window. Dwarf (D) thinks it is raining and reaches for umbrella (E), pulling string (F) and lifting end of platform (G). Iron ball (H) falls and pulls string (I), causing hammer (J) to hit plate of glass (K). Crash of glass wakes up pup (L) and mother dog (M) rocks him to sleep in cradle (N), causing attached wooden hand (O) to move up and down along your back. --Rube Goldberg TM & © of Rube Goldberg.

Ain't No Escapin' the Norovirus Blues

Well, my stomach done exploded
I got no reason to live
All day and night I sit and wait
I got nothin' more to give

To the grand commode
I've been payin' ma dues
There just ain't no escapin'
The norovirus blues

Just a little somethin' I threw together... Haha!

Turns out that we all have been exposed to the norovirus. Luckily, E seemed to have a baby version. She recovered in 24 hours. Then it hit Mark in the wee hours of Monday morning. I thought I had been through the worst of it during my ER visit, but it was just the beginning -- 2 days of hanging out in the bathroom for me too.

I also finally christened the non-skid puke bowl, which I'm quite proud of. This is my in-law's tradition. They own a collection of plastic mixing bowls with handy handles and some with rubber, non-skid bottoms. They use them for the ease of barfing anywhere, and I didn't truly appreciate them until last night. (They got us one years ago for a wedding present.) I've always had vomiting anxiety, so to be able to sit in the comfort of my recliner while getting violently ill was such a luxury. I texted my mother- and sister-in-law to thank them. I felt like an official member of the family...

This morning, we're all feeling a little better though still fighting for the bathroom. E got into her birthday bag and donned a pair of leopard-print pants as a cape. She's wearing them everywhere and saying "pitty."

"Yes, you're very pretty," we tell her. Beautiful, even. She's my little bundle of cheer getting me through this!

The Moral is That Ambulance Rides Are Fun!

Since having E and while experiencing all her firsts, I've experienced a few of my own, too, including but not limited to... the first time wetting my pants as an adult, my first time being barfed on, my first time standing in line at the supermarket holding a massive bunch of balloons with an awkward, sad clown look on my face.

Today's first was the most fun, though! It was E's first birthday party, postponed from last weekend, because she had the flu. We had a healthy week, so I spent all Friday night baking with friends -- 6 straight hours!

We woke up Saturday morning in good spirits, even though E started throwing up every half hour a few hours before the party. I thought the first 2 episodes were kind of normal. In all other ways, she was fine -- playing, dancing, singing... then puking. By the time I realized it was something more serious, the guests were on their way. I scheduled a doctor's appointment for her and thought they would tell me she was just getting rid of some phlegm and would be fine to at least make a quick appearance at the party.

My friend, Krista, was here from New York, so she drove us. I planned to catch puke in the back seat with E on the way to the doctor, while Mark stayed home and greeted party guests.

Halfway to the appointment I started to feel funny. I told Krista that I'd have to stop to use a bathroom somewhere. We pulled into our favorite diner (where everybody knows our name -- or at least they do now), and I ran inside. I motioned to the waitress seating people that I just needed to use the restroom. She gave me the "go ahead" wave, and I ran for the (thankfully) vacant ladies' room.

Once inside, it was what you'd expect. I won't go into details. I'll just say that there really isn't any good reason to paint a scenic Vermont mural on all four walls of a bathroom. No one wants to get violently ill in a plowed field 1 mile from a hand-painted farmhouse, with a hot-air balloon directly overhead. I felt watched.

Then the stomach cramps got worse. The pain got so bad that I had to sit on the floor. Then it increased to the point that I couldn't breathe, and I blacked out. When I came to, all I saw was a painted cow staring me in the face. I was in a field, but the grass and clouds weren't moving in the wind. There was an AC unit built into the sky. "What kind of strange heaven is this?" I realized I was still in the bathroom and in more pain. If I could just stand enough to get out, to the car, to the doctor's office.

Instead, I crawled and half-clawed my way out of the restaurant, using booths and counters for support, hoping no one would notice. I got to the car and told Krista, "Please drive. Fast." She got me to the doctor quickly, and I ran inside. I proceeded to lay on the waiting room couch, screaming in agony. Krista came in with E, and I remember trying not to scream, because I didn't want to scare her. Then I blacked out again and came to in a wheelchair. They got me to lay down in a room and I stayed there for a long time, in and out, while they asked me questions like: "Do you know where your baby is??" This question came up repeatedly, and it was always the one I forced myself to answer as detailed and as quickly as possible. In one breath (this chatter got skills): My friend has her, in the waiting room I rode in the back seat I got sick on the way She's here from New York for my daughter's first birthday.

I can only guess that they thought I was delirious. They asked me the same question about 10 times and always got the same, wordy, breathless response. I knew where my kid was. Then they kept asking me what my name was. I remember answering but have no recollection of what I said. I can only hope that I said: John Philip Sousa, Mary Todd Lincoln, or Ringo Starr.

They tried to start an IV with no luck. They called Mark and an ambulance. I just begged them to make the pain stop. After about 20 minutes, it let up a little, and I was able to sit up. Then I just cried. Like a baby until the ambulance came. EMTs are the best. They strapped me in, loaded me up, and off we went, lights and sirens blaring. Good Lord.

When we were almost to the hospital, the pain let up a little more. I leaned over to the EMT woman at my side and said, "What if the only reason I'm riding in the ambulance is because I had severe diarrhea?"

And do you know what that angel said? She said that no matter what it was, the pain was severe enough that it warranted this -- that I had been through labor and gallstones, and that I knew what real pain was. God love her. She had been volunteering as an EMT for 17 years. That's 17 years of that kind of care and patience and words of comfort!

It was also kind of fun, as the pain continued to dissipate. I used to love playing ambulance with my Puzzle Town bears -- opening the back door, throwing Handicapped Bear in, and whirring around Puzzle Town making loud siren noises.

It was just like that. I finally arrived at the hospital and got to a phone. I found out that Mark had been called to get Krista and E at the doctor's office then come get me. I later found out that Krista had done E's entire doctor appointment (seriously, how did I get so lucky to have the friends I do?). E was just fighting a stomach bug and needed antibiotics to clear up an ear infection.

Then I waited.

Bored. With no iPhone. Everything stopped. The beeps and bustles of the hospital went on around me. The pain slowly came to a stop, and I waited.

In the next bed, I heard this conversation:
Man: Everything's going to be okay.
Woman: No it's not. You don't know that!
M: Yes, I do. It's just a CAT scan.
W: I'm not laying in that room -- the room where, next door, my sister DIED.

Me: Oh God. I'm in an episode of The Young and the Restless. Well, not quite...

Man: Calm down. The doctor's coming.
Doc to Woman: Well, we're going to check you for ovarian cysts. It's possible that one ruptured.
Man: Yeah, I've had ovarian cysts. In fact, I've had all kinds of problems with my ovaries.

At this point, I was wide eyed and trying not to laugh -- a man with ovaries? It can't be!

Then that "man" got up and walked by my bed. It was actually a very tall, husky-voiced woman in a reindeer-adorned sweater. She had a Richard Simmons perm and matching mustache.

Me: Oh. Hi.

My nurse came in and told me to get undressed, but to leave my underwear on. I had left the house in such a hurry I hadn't put underwear on. I told her that these dress pants, that I had pulled out of the bottom of the laundry pile, were my underwear. She said it was fine to go naked. It wasn't. I was sharing a room. With Richard Simmon's mom.

I kept my pants on. The doctor came in and said, "Well, you're good to go!"

What!? I just gave birth... to something. Something's wrong. He said there was nothing to test me for, no symptoms beyond the cramps that pointed to any one thing. He also said that a lot of people are coming in with severe cramps with a virus. He said to go home, see if it happens again with different symptoms, and follow up with my regular doctor. Fine. But this felt like a near-death experience. It didn't matter.

So, home we all went. The party went on without us, and our family came over after to open presents. E stopped throwing up. I feel better but still not right so am hoping to have more answers next week!

The Genie Bra Wasn't Invented By a Genie

I know, I'm disappointed too. The woman on the package looks perky and cute.

Besides that, I fell for the oldest marketing trick in the book, what I call the "dark magic factor" -- when a company uses words like "voo doo," "magic," and "genie" to (at least subconsciously) trigger your brain to believe something out-of-this world is going to happen when you use their product.

I mean, I guess, in this case, it kind of did... if you consider that my boobs sagged like they were under the gravitational force from some other planet.

Everything else about the genie bra held true -- nice fabric, holds its shape, looks more like a tank top than a bra under clothing, which I like.

I can wear it over another bra for added support, and it does work well!

Allow me to just make one minor adjustment to the ad image... (as I use my teeth to pull the cap off of my virtual marker):

There we go...

Home is Where the Heart Is!

Home is also where you drink Baileys at 11am out of a "Freedom Is Not Free" mug and by Noon say: "I get my best drinking ideas when writing Baileys."

-Where your mom grills you for taking your Kindle to the bathroom:

Mom: Why do you need your Kindle to take a shower?!

Me (with Napoleon-Dynamite-like exasperation): Because, I don't know, maybe I'll take a bath! Because, I don't know, maybe I'll use bubbles! Maybe I'll light candles!! Maybe I'll use a loofah!!

Mom (nonchalantly): Well, don't use my loofah.

-Where you listen to the scanner and watch Cops at the same time.

-Where mom and dad help with the baby so you can drink wine... and blog.

Loves!