Don't get too excited- its not what you may be thinking....After days of smelling something foul emanating from our upstairs, particularly my bedroom, I was horrified to discover, under a pink t-shirt, while sorting laundry, a rather rotund, though dead, chipmunk, laying on one of my favorite pair of pants, in what appeared to be an advanced stage of rigor mortis (we have a cat with the hunting acumen of a military sniper). A CHIPMUNK IN MY BEDROOM PEOPLE- WHO DOES THIS HAPPEN TO? AND IT DIED A HORRIBLE DEATH, APPARENTLY, BLEEDING ALL OVER MANY OF MY WINTER CLOTHES, WHICH MY HUSBAND HAD KINDLY DUMPED AT THE FOOT OF OUR BED!!!

I reacted, of course, in a most mature way, by screaming bloody murder and tearing through my house looking for Tom to rid our boudoir of this revolting sight. He did, and now, I must say, that I'm left with this constant feeling that I am going to look down, or get in bed, and find some non-domesticated mammal sharing my space. It is very disturbing. Just what I need to calm my weary soul- the mutilated carcass of a rodent.

It is a lovely, crisp autumn day here in the South Hills of Pittsburgh- we've been hanging out- taking the day in stride mostly. At one point, the five of us were out in the front yard (Liam was spending some time with friends), and I grabbed the camera to capture our lives in this moment-

Our remaining daisies
Lily and Benjamin playing tackle football with Daddy
Lily sweeping the leaves
Benjamin Sweeping the leaves (just before finding out he wasn't going to get paid for this feat, much to his chagrin.
Seth, having decided that less is more in the pants category, indulges in a pinecone.

We gave up our triple jogger today- which is a seemingly innocuous gesture, but emotionally it is actually quite hard for me- there are so many memories tied up in that vehicle, which I used to haul my first three children all over the country for about two years. We'd purchased it on Ebay in January of '04 and it crossed the borders of many states, as we traveled near and far with our kids. But the time has come for us- as we are busting at the seams in this moderately sized abode, to let go of things that sit in storage- to free up space for the life we're living now. I proudly handed it over to some friends who've adopted several babies in the last year, who I know will use it well and for such a divine purpose.

So long old friend.

Thanks to my big sis Wendy, in Maryland, I've been reading this fantastic novel- "The Seduction of Water" by Carol Goodman
. I made a pact with myself the other day that I would refrain from TV watching for a while. It has been my escape since acquiring FIOS cable last year- Tom gets home from work and I take a break upstairs with a little "decorating porn." Even when I didn't care for the topic dujour, out of habit, I would just have it on anyway- almost for the adult company really. And whenever I was picking up a book, which I would normally do while watching T.V. (ever the multi-taskers, we moms are)- it was always non-fiction, and ALWAYS of the "how to be a better parent or look better in spandex" genre. So as I was sifting through some fiction I'd put next to the bed the other night, while cleaning, I ran across the aformentioned novel and am feeling maybe like I'll never go back to the brain-drain of the boob-tube- I am always so happy to be absorbed in a good story- there really is nothing better, I think. Sometimes I start to pray that the power gets turned off for an extended period and the six of us are forced to rely on things like books or board games for entertainment, come hell or high water. But then I remember hot showers, two ovens, and washing machines, and I recant.

I drove Benjamin to kindergarten this afternoon- we'd gotten slaughtered by the rain on our walk to the cemetery this morning, so I decided to give us a rest and pollute the earth some more with my van instead. Seth was just about done for anyway, highly anticipating his 1pm nap. I spied my friend Monica on the ride to school and was happy that she was willing to take Ben inside with her son- so I didn't have to get Sethy out of his seat. As I turned to get back in to drive home, I felt something strange on my head, and to my surprise, I realized that my sixteen-month old had plopped a big pile of hummus right on top of my noggen during lunch (as I stooped down below his high-chair to retrieve the rest of the gook he'd discarded onto the floor). Really people, is this a comedy of errors that I'm living, or what? Hummus Head- call Nickelodeon now- I'll be giving Sponge Bob a run for his money in no time.

I've spent a portion of the last two days doing my absolute favorite thing in the world- reading to kids. Thanks to the support and encouragement from Michelle Brados at Southminster Nursery School, I've got a monthly gig as "the story lady", performing for two year-olds up through the Pre-K classes and Kindergarten Enrichment kids. It is the best job on the planet and I know this because I would do it for free- it brings me nothing but joy. There is something so spectacular about an audience of little people who feel no obligation whatsoever to applaud your work unless they truly feel it in their bones- then they laugh hysterically and sometimes fall over- which is all the complement I need.

This month I chose my all-time favorite Halloween book- "The Vanishing Pumpkin" by Tony Johnston and Tomie De Paola. I found it at a used book sale about nine years ago and have probably read it over a hundred times since (I'm certain I could recite it in my sleep), slowly but surely perfecting the voices of the 700 year-old woman, the 800 year-old man, the ghoul, the rapscallion, the varmint, and the 900 year-old wizard. For the older kids, I also added a rousing rendition of "Shake dem Halloween Bones" by W. Nikola Lisa,
a story I discovered a couple of years ago at the library and have somehow created a catchy tune by which to sing it in its entirety. Watching the miniature hips of the kids shake back in forth (and the slightly bigger hips of the teachers doing the same) is unbelievably gratifying, though at some points I had to actually remind them to move, as they seemed to fall into some sort of catatonic state listening to my rather tune-less voice bellowing from the front of the room (it is really a form of humility to sing to a crowd, no matter the age, when you have absolutely zero talent in that department- but when a story demands it- you've just gotta do it).

These are the hours that I catch a glimpse of my true self and I like it- I've had a flair for the dramatic all my life, stemming for the most part from only-childom, spending hours talking to myself in my room of our apartment- you name it and I'd created some storyline I was working through with my imaginary friends and dolls. Sometimes I was the mom, or the neighbor, or, in 1980, the wife of one of the hostages in Tehran (I kid you not- I was such a ding-bat). I did some children's theater in high school but my absolute fear of failure held me back from many an audition so my skills remained dormant until I had children of my own to entertain. If I had my life to live over again......

For now, I am thankful to the small souls of Southminster Nursery School, who allow me to act like a complete idiot, and, every once in a while, seem to enjoy the fact that I do.

Nursing Seth for the first time, June 11th, 2007, around 12:20am. He was immediately a pro.


My nursing journey has come to an end, I'm afraid. After a decade of nursing babies and toddlers, my breasts have been forced into retirement by my sixteen month old who has outgrown the need for "mum". This was an unexpected turn of events for me, as all of his siblings seemed to be headed for college, boob attached. But alas, the turmoil of the spring and our separation in April for nine days, seemed to have taken its toll on our breastfeeding relationship, as he slowly consumed less and less of mama's milk and more solids from that point on.

A lot of the last ten, almost eleven years, has found me identified with nursing in one way or another. As a twenty-seven year-old new mother, disappointed and guilt-ridden with my less-than optimal birth experience, I was bound and determined to see my seemingly impossible breast-feeding commitment through til at least the six-month mark, where, at the time, in 1997, the American Academy of Pediatrics advised women to strive for (the recommendation now is one-year, with the World Health Organization holding fast to a two-year mark). At three days old, Lily decided not to take the breast at all and hence my journey of anguish then strength began. Tom and I, determined to succeed at giving her what we felt was best, almost lived in Alexandria at our lactation consultant's home, attempting to soak up all of her wisdom and instruction, even on Thanksgiving Day. I cried day after day, night after night, as we fed her via syringe then by bottle, with me pumping every hour on the hour for two weeks. Then one night, around 11pm, as I sobbed uncontrollably and sang "Amazing Grace" while making the attempt, one more time, she finally caught on and nursed like a champ for over two years (and each baby I had, thereafter, was a huge pain in the toot in this department, causing me to want to quit many, many times). I found solace in my local La Leche League meetings, surrounding myself with powerful, intelligent women who were following the same path. As soon as I was eligible, I began pursuing qualifications for leadership and, after moving to Maryland, became a co-leader then went on to starting and leading my own evening group in my home in Riverdale. There were months where I'd have almost twenty nursing moms and babes in my living room- and I'd feel a surge of empowerment that I'd pursued something so meaningful and fulfilling- more than anything in my life up to that point, next to mothering itself.

My mother's breast cancer diagnosis, in 2003, reinforced the importance of this decision we'd made with our babies- with studies confirming that for each year of nursing, the chances of being hit by this awful disease were less and less likely. A decade of nursing, in fact, has brought my chances to nearly zero, for which I am truly grateful.

I don't know that I'll ever again have the privilege to feel the bond that a nursing relationship brings between mother and baby. Those days for me may be over- Seth perhaps being our last biological child. But not a moment will I ever regret the anguish and then the joy of breastfeeding- what an amazing journey.

Over breakfast this morning, Liam announced that next year "I just want to be free, mommy." He said this in reference to playing sports, specifically soccer, which he's supposed to be doing as we speak- except for the fact that he'd rather be running around the yard with his friends and drawing blue-prints for his tree house.

I see the value of athletics- I never got to play as a child so I have enjoyed going to their games and cheering them on- watching them just do their best and having fun at it. But I also know exactly what my son is getting at, when he talks of being free. When you have multiple children, the very act of getting one or the other of them or all, to the practices or games, is difficult, and frankly, a bit destructive to the family process. You've often got one parent going this way, and the other parent going that way, and togetherness is out the window completely. Not to mention the issue of overscheduling and what the lack of "free-time" does to our kids- I've seen some rather tortured five-year-olds who just want to play and not be a member of five different teams in one season-while the parents beam with pride that their kids are playing soccer and football and hockey and basketball....

There must be a balance, I think, and I've yet to find it. Most times, we (Tom and I and the kids), just kind of want to be.....and busy-ness tends to make us all a little nuts.

So, today, despite my efforts to the contrary, Liam has decided to opt out of his game and run with his buds. Its important for kids to learn committment and a sence of respect for promises you make to "show up" but I just couldn't force that lesson on him today- so he's swinging high into the air, jumping off with pure joy, then chasing the boys around the yard...he's free.

I've been awake for a while now
you've got me feelin like a child now
cause every time I see your bubbly face
I get the tinglies in a silly place

It starts in my toes
and I crinkle my nose
where ever it goes I always know
that you make me smile
please stay for a while now
just take your time
where ever you go

The rain is fallin on my window pane
but we are hidin in a safer place
under covers stayin dry *(safe) and warm
you give me feelins that I adore

It starts in my toes
make me crinkle my nose
where ever it goes
i always know
that you make me smile
please stay for a while now
just take your time
where ever you go

What am I gonna say
when you make me feel this way
I just........mmmmmm

It starts in my toes
make me crinkle my nose
where ever it goes
i always know
that you make me smile
please stay for a while now
just take your time
where ever you go

I've been asleep for a while now
You tucked me in just like a child now
Cause every time you hold me in your arms
I'm comfortable enough to feel your warmth

It starts in my soul
And I lose all control
When you kiss my nose
The feelin shows
Cause you make me smile
Baby just take your time now
Holdin me tight

Where ever, where ever, where ever you go
Where ever, where ever, where ever you go
Where ever you go, I'll always know
Cause you make me smile here, just for a while



I have written many times over the years about my frustrations with the dailiness of mothering- the inconveniences, the fears, the heartbreaks. I wanted to write a little about the feelings I've had, since my children have returned to school- realizing, somewhere in the middle of my day, that I miss them, and how much I love them so- how integral they are to my spirit, my life, my everything. When I take Benjamin to kindergarten each day, I end up running into Liam and Lily in the hallway somewhere, and I ache- and deep in my core I just want to reach out and hold them close to me, be in their presence- know how they're doing- if the day's been good- if they are happy- if they aren't. I want to soak them up, wrap myself around them and soar with the knowledge that these little people have been loaned to me by the heavens- what a marvelous journey I've had inscribed onto my soul- to parent them completely, with all that I have in me to give. God I thank you for entrusting these beings to me- boy, am I lucky to be their mom.

I've been convicted about a lot of environmental issues lately- all of which I am guilty of on some level or another, even if the guilt is simply about ignorance or lack of education itself.

I was talking to my friend Linda this morning- she owns an art gallery here in Pittsburgh and recycles wine and liquor bottles to create one-of-a-kind serving pieces. Over the course of the last couple of months, we've forged a mutual soap-box society of snorts, where we dialog about buying used, recycling, buying hand-made or made-in-America,and keeping things out of the landfills- your basic tree-hugging diatribe, though with a more personal bent. I casually mentioned Freecycle and was shocked to learn that she had not yet heard of this fabulous web-group. Basically, for all of you who remain in the dark on this one, you join a local freecycle internet group and then you post things that you either have to give or need to have. Tom and I have been blessed many times over the years with happy souls who've arrived ready and willing to haul away some piece of furniture we could no longer find space for or boxes of junk we couldn't stand looking at. Tomorrow, three separate families are due to pick up a variety of large items from our abode, and we shall, once more, be liberated from at least part of our clutter. Our goal, in the end, of course, is to halt the habit of gluttony and consume less on the whole. But, for now, we sit here in the purging stage, with the light from the end of the tunnel shimmering through the cracks.

If you would like to learn more, or join this remarkably "green" give-away society, click here.