We got almost two feet of snow yesterday and Boobert (E) has decided he doesn't like mandarin oranges after I bought four freakin' cans. Fickle little nut ball.

Over the weekend I got my labor and surgical reports. Wow. Tough reading. It seems like I was almost going to get my VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) so many times and that whoosh...right out from under me goes the rug. I am glad Weenie (L) is out and good and all that blah blah blah. But dammit I really wanted a VBAC. I am so pissed it didn't happen for me and I have a hard time determining blame. Was it my fault for being tired and too weak to handle the worst pain I have ever experienced? Was it the anaesthesia docs for not getting the epidural right or offering a spinal? Was it the midwife for telling me I was 8 when I was really 5? Was it my old OB for giving me the first C/S whe she probably didn't have to? Was it my body for not making enough amniotic fluid and causing a heightened stress level? So many damn questions. I think ultimately it was a matter without direct individual fault; a series of complicated events and circumstances that no one would have chosen.

It hurts a lot.

However- Weenie is getting huge. She is gaining an average of 11ozs a week! That certainly would imply I have plenty of milk. With Boobert it was a lot different. He was still struggling (as was I) at 6 weeks. Thank god for experience.

This post was more dark than I intended. I really just wanted to say that it snowed. And that Boobert is plotting against my being able to grocery shop effectively.

Today an old friend contacted me over gmails little chat system. Just a simple hello that developed into an all day back and forth conversation. We hadn't been in touch since last summer. Since then I of course have delivered my baby and she has apparently started growing one.

This gives me mixed feelings.

A. I am so freakin' happy for her. In spite of our complicated past I wish her such goodness that it makes me smile without thinking.
B. I am sad that our friendship has changed in so many ways that is unlikely I will ever know her child.
C. I miss being pregnant. Up until 6 weeks ago I was big with child. Very big and usually moody. But still, I love all the uncertainty and possibility that you feel with a pregnancy. Once you deliver it is all done. The mystery is over (at least until you realize that you have no idea when your baby will start to reach all the exciting milestones...or if it will ever lose the funny ear hair it was born with). Plus now that the wee one is here I can no longer hope for the delivery I dreamed of. What happened happened and you can't go back. Same thing applies to my relationship with this old friend.
D. I have no friends with whom I can share all the ups and downs of gestating. I have mommy friends, yes and som eof them are efinitively pregggers. But they are a different sort of friend, the kind you see and are happy to see but probbaly wouldn't call just to chat or say you hate your kids today or that your post-partum belly is still numb.
E. There are very few people who know my whole story. There will always be bits and pieces that have totally changed me that only a few are privy to.

But I am mostly happy for her and her husband. The excitement and possibility of a first pregnancy is crazy intense and wild. Also crazy scary but that never gets easier.

Overall I am glad she got in touch with me. It never hurts to discover that someone you want to say hello to wants to say hello to you too. Know what I mean, Vern? Was Vern universal as an advertising campaign or do people have no idea of what I speak?

I was sure my past had caught up with me.

Today as I am slicing up all-natural chicken drumettes for E, I get a phone call. I don't recognize the number so I let voicemail get it. When I listen to the message it is a deep and gruff man's voice saying "If there is a ~Me with Maiden Name~ at this address please call 555-5555." Nothing else. Not "because you owe-won-lost 8 million dollars." So after racking my mind to think of reasons why a creditor would be calling from a seemingly local residential number I did what any savvy modern day girl would do. I did a reverse look up on the number and then googled the guy.

All that came up was that he was an academic cousnelor at a university in another state. Must be the guy's son. Or wait- could it be related to one of the two colleges I dropped out of? Did I forget to hand in a super important assignment that they had to have after 4 to 10 years (depending on which school)? No. Could it be a private investigator hired by an ex-boyfriend who had never stopped pining for me and would soon be disappointed to discover I am no longer a slim-yet-amply-busted-smoker-with vast literary knowledge but am instead a rather-plump-if-not-massive-still-amply-busted-mama-to-two-with a vast knowledge of nursing and parenting styles? Not likley. I hardly seem worthy of a gumshoe on the beat.

I also briefly considered the possibility that it could be a ne'er-do-well who would try to get my social security number, mother's maiden name and last debit card transaction from me. A killer seemed unlikely but we all know about identity theft. Who wouldn't want to be me? (Note above paragraph before anwering.)

As it was I decided to call back. I bravely dialed and commandingly requested to be told who the caller was and what business he had with me.
...
...
It was a wee little old man with his wee little old wife on the line also, calling to say that while they were taking their nightly after dinner walk they came across my license on the sidewalk. It had my maiden name on a separate line from my married name and an old address. Their was a change of address sticker on teh back so aftre spending all morning calling information and trying various combinations of name and addresses- they found me. They were terribly worried that such a pretty girl would be looking for it. Of course they would drop in the post to me right away. Yeah I suck just a little bit.

Since getting pregnant with bambina dos I have lost my bank card exactly 4 times. Yes four times in 40 weeks. Truly impressive (although the bank does not share this opinion), indeed. I have left the phone in the linen closet twice. I have forgotten to feed my son an actual sit-down lunch (not just snacks) at least 5 times. I have told my sister I would pay her back only to forget for weeks too many times to count. I have left the heat on 72 after turning in to bed almost nightly causing our gas bill to be ridiculous even for New England. I have lost my house key and my platinum wedding ring one time each. I found the key but the ring seems to have made it to the trash and is thusly gone for good. So the fact that I lost my license at a playdate is no big shocker. I hadn't even realized it was missing. I don't get carded much when buying Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks. But these two people stopped and picked it up of the cold ground and took the time to find me even though it was hard and they could have just sent it to the RMV or something. They were polite even after I was rude. They were just nice people which is what they probably are most of the time. And they may or may not have a son who has a BA and a MA and a successful career at an upstate New York university. Good for them.

I guess all is right in the world after all.

Okay so why did I start a silly little blog?

I am a mother of two (E 22mos and L 5wks) who used to be cool and thoughtful. I used to write long rambling poetry and prose. I used to listen to music and actually purchase whole cd's by my favorites. I used to be smart. I used to stay up too late smoking and very rarely drinking but mostly just talking. I used to read everything and everyone and retain it for more then the time it takes to turn the page. I used to have a best friend who wasn't related to me.

Of course there is a downside to all of this. I also used to swear. Oh wait- I still swear constantly (earmuffs for the babes). I used to be sad a lot more than I am now. I used to smoke and very rarely drink. I used to have to go to work everyday. I used to worry about love all the time. I used to want children desperately and worry that I would never have them. I used to have friends I didn't like.

I don't want this to be another pent-up-mommy-rage rant about being undervalued or missing the old me. I don't always miss the old me. Just sometimes. Mostly I love the new life around me. That however is a subtle distinction.

I used to think that my experiences were so unique that no one could possibly understand them or relate. Hence the aforementioned Voltaire quote. I know now that everything has been done, said, thought or created. Except this; a web based dissertation on me and all that I am and have. That will undoubtedly include stuff I wish people were interested in but won't be and stuff that I wish I was interested in. A lot of this will likely be about my babies, their births, my writing (non-existent most of the time), my happiness and my sadness and the way they crash together.

There will probable be a lot of crashes actually.

I titled my blog based on a quote from Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592).

"And because I found I had nothing else to write about, I presented myself as a subject."

I also considered a Voltaire quote about originality that suggests that originality is nothing more than "judicious imitation." I agree. There are an awful lot of blogs out there and not everybody can have an original title, theme or even content.

That pretty much sums it up for now.