8/21/07 A red ribbon day

A ribbon-worthy day! Even for me!

And such a full one, I'm barely sure how to describe it. I guess I'll let the pictures do the talking, and try to do as little of it as possible myself.

It started with Gabriel's last Tuesday morning swim lesson, during which he earned his "red ribbon." This means he's advanced one level, having proven his ability to do the following (lifted from the swim school's Web site):

To earn my RED Ribbon I must master the following three skills without fins:

• Starfish float on my back for 10 seconds without assistance from the instructor.
• Swim one length of the pool alternating between my tummy and my back
• Swim/kick one length of the [ 20-yard ] pool on my back

I wish I could have seen this a little better, but I had to entertain a wiggly crawler who is no longer content to sit in the stroller and watch. But I'm very proud of Gabriel!

During Katrina's nap, the boys colored and drew. Gabriel made an American flag, then went out to the porch, apparently to wave it.

For Julian, I took a scan of a sketch our architect did of what our east elevation might look like after the Grand Remodel (elevations? we gave no thought at all to how the outside would look when we did the upstairs remodel -- and it shows!), printed it, and gave it to him to color. He was very proud of his paint job.









Note the lovely bald spot on Julian's head.

It was actually our architect's idea to print out the drawings for the boys to color. Yesterday, while she was here, she asked Gabriel what color he thought we should paint the house. I thought for sure he'd say "white" (because it is already) or "green" (because that's always what he says when asked a color question), but he surprised us both with, "Stripes!"

Julian colored while I madly typed a long complaint in email to a friend about the boys' behavior at dinner. I didn't quite realize how much that weighed on me until I dumped all over her electronically!

To illustrate my point, I took a little video of the boys at lunch today. A little different, since the rules for sitting at the kitchen counter aren't quite the same as the dining room, and they can't reach each other in the dining room. But here's a small sampling.

Gabriel and Julian on their BEST behavior at lunch, with Katrina screech-whining in the background:


Funny, huh? Try ALL DAY of it! I had to get them out.

But, as I'd also lamented to my hapless friend in email, it's getting increasingly challenging to go places that are suitable for all 3 kids. Katrina isn't content to just be carted around like a newborn anymore, but she's still so young I have to carry her around for most things the boys might want to do.

Fortunately, today was quite warm, and Gabriel had asked me yesterday about Serra Park, where there are water poles. Not ideal for Katrina, but she could try out her first sand. On a lark, I stuck her swimsuit in my bag last-minute.

First, we dropped something off at said friend's house. Not deliberately to make up for all the e-whining, but the timing could make it seem that way.

The boys had a great time listening to a newly discovered funny-song on the way to my friend's house.

Who knew the Red Hot Chili Peppers were so hilarious?

When we got to the park, I immediately remembered why it's such a pain doing things with a baby. Both boys had to go into the bathroom, which is too small for a stroller, so I had to hold antsy Katrina while waiting for them, helping wipe rear ends, wash hands, etc. What a pain!

And Katrina wasn't about to sit placidly on a blanket watching the boys play, though I did manage to get a photo that made it look like she would.

The water play area's drains were, once again, clogged with sand. It dawned on me that this made for a very gradual "beach" into a "lake" that was 6 inches deep, tops. Perfect for baby! Well, the concrete wasn't, but the water was.

So I changed Katrina into her swimsuit, set her down, and let 'er rip. She loved it!














First she got playing with some other kids' truck, but then she boldly started crawling into the middle of the water.

















Meantime, the boys threw buckets of water at a concrete tower. I don't know what this innocent block of rock did to deserve this attention, but it suffered some serious erosion today.


Not one, but two photos of both boys with their tongues sticking out. Serious work!




Julian somehow got a bunch of sand plastered on his head and back, so Gabriel kindly washed it off him by dumping a bucket of water over his head -- about 100 times.














Meantime, Katrina "tested the waters" by sticking her face into it, for seconds at a time. Test-drowning or drinking? Ick. Either way....stop that!

Here's Katrina splashing approvingly of the boys' work power-washing the concrete tower.


We all had fun. Ah. Good Mom made a brief appearance today.

Back at home, something flipped on the Hyper switch on the boys, and they started to get crazy and out of control: running, screeching, throwing things, slamming doors, jumping on furniture -- all at the same time. Usually, this is a sign of boredom. But we'd just gotten back from the park! No fair!

So I raided my stash of emergency gifts, and found two "pictureback" Curious George books.

Immediately the boys latched onto them, and Julian asked Gabriel to read them to him. This kept them busy -- and calm -- for the better part of an hour!



Dave went out to dinner tonight, so I put them all to bed. Ironically, I ended up with all three of them wet at the same time again!.

Once again, the scenario with the greatest potential for trouble (all three all day and night) yielded an unusually good day. A long one, to be sure, but not emotionally draining, and with lots of fun moments enjoying all three of them, together. I think that deserves a ribbon.

8/21/07

8/20/07 Into and out of

Katrina has a new skill: putting objects into containers!

This isn't usually a noteworthy milestone, but I took notice of it because I clearly remember when Gabriel did so for the first time. He was 14 months old, and I thought nothing of his age, but did notice how much fun he had with it once he got it. Then when Julian started to do it at a much younger age (like 7-8 months, though I forget exactly), and in a much more coordinated and deliberate way, I wondered if Julian was super smart or something. No, it turned out, Julian was just normal, right on track, and that putting objects into containers was just one of countless things that Gabriel did late. Which I wouldn't have worried about even if I realized it then. But now I do know about these various quasi-milestones, so I notice that Katrina just started it.

Much like her older older brother, she takes great delight in this newfound ability. She entertains herself for over half an hour at a time (if let be) putting toys in a bucket, shaking it around, then pulling them back out. (She's also getting pretty good at pulling herself up to a semi-stand on low objects, like a footstool.)

Younger older brother's coordination skills and inclination to manipulate objects with his hands led to another hair hack job this morning. Julian now has another quarter-sized bald spot smack dab on top of his head, having gone into Gabriel's Special Bin that no one is allowed into except Gabriel, stolen Gabriel's scissors and then enacted the coiffe.

It'd be funny except that he absolutely has to learn the rule that scissors are only to be used on paper. According to Gabriel (hardly a reliable source), Julian also tried to cut Gabriel's hair. It gets a lot less funny when you think what Julian might try if Katrina were sitting innocently putting cars into a wagon.

After a tough night last night, the drama continued this morning, with the boys making a ton of noise at 6:30am, and me fighting a migraine. It made me seriously depressed and impatient again, with no reserves for serious offenses.

Such as: Julian throwing things in the pool at swim class today. At me. Hitting me in the face. Twice. Barely missing Katrina. Twice. Then after I kicked him out of the pool, he threw his towel in the changing room -- harmless but a re-offense nonetheless. (This after just yesterday, he got in huge trouble for throwing a paddle and hitting Katrina.) The final throw earned him a hard smack on a naked and wet bottom. It hurt. He cried...but he wasn't the one in tears as we left.

The day wasn't an entire waste, even if my Good-Mom karma was.

This morning, we met with our architect to review two preliminary designs. One was based on what I'd had in mind (moving the kitchen to the sunny West side of the house), and was far far better than anything I'd been able to sketch.

But the second was a radical re-layout, something she described as "the house spoke to me." And it is absolutely fabulous. Incredibly, even though we'd be adding only 300 square feet, it makes such better use of the existing space that all 3 kids could have their own room! She even drew in three little semi-circles for seats at the kitchen island :). It's preliminary, we have a lot to pin down, but I'm beside myself with excitement. It's totally the right direction to go. I'm starting to regret we ever remodelled upstairs without such excellent professional help.

Calm Mom and Good Mom have taken a serious hiatus this week. Fine timing, since my oldest son is starting kindergarten in 3 days. He deserves better.

8/20/07

8/20/07 Race Thru the Redwoods

An early start today! We dropped Julian and Katrina off at a sitter's house at 7:30am, then zoomed into the mountains with Gabriel.















The idea was that he might want to walk part of the 10K race, or do the whole Kids 1-mile race if we got there in time (it started earlier and we didn't), and that we'd have some time alone with him as a last hurrah before kindergarten. It didn't really work out that way. He was a bit of a pest, and also kept asking about going to a play structure. I think he was just bored. In retrospect, Julian would have enjoyed it more.

But I had a great time!

It was a beautiful course, mostly along dirt hiking trails and through redwood forests and along streams.

There was one steep uphill stretch, which, I knew from my Rancho experience, sounded pretty steep: a 300-foot climb in the space of a mile. And indeed, it was steep, but since I know what "steep" feels like and how to get through it, I liked it. I was surprised to see most of the runners ahead of me walking up the hill. I was determined not to walk, and puffed my way up the inclines. (Later Dave overheard other runners commenting that if you only train flat, then those hills will kill you! Indeed, I can't imagine coming across that in a race if I never ran hills.)

Toward the top, I joked with a woman that I wasn't going to walk if it killed me -- and it was! She and I ended up running and talking together for the rest of the race until I sprinted the end. Later, when I saw the photos, I was shocked to see her RIGHT next to me at the start! (in the pink top, hat and sunglasses, in the photo of me hugging Gabriel).

After our little bunch was reunited and I'd had a short nap, it was back to family business. This afternoon I did a sadly-rare thing: sit in the backyard and just watch and play with Katrina. It's fun to hold her hands and help her stand, and watch her little face light up and make silly sounds. She always sticks a foot or two in the air while sitting down.

Why don't I do this all the time? This is the reward of child-raising, the low-key moments of just being together, enjoying each other purely. So why did I do it this afternoon then? Because, I think, I had a very fulfilling morning. I had a big challenge, I pushed my way through it, and glowed with a sense of accomplishment all day. I was ready for some downtime; my usual antsiness to Do Things was quelled. As a result, I was able to be a Good Mom for a while.

(That is, until a big blowup with Julian ruined it...after being warned twice not to hit a ball while Katrina was out there, I went to take the paddle away from him, and he threw the paddle and hit Katrina!)

This begs the question again: why the heck don't I go back to work? It's already proven from my 6-month stint in 2005: I'm a much better person, and hence, mom, when I'm feeling productive and like I'm learning and growing and overcoming obstacles. I've been semi-ribbed many times in my life about always choosing the hard route. There must be a reason for that. Without something to push against, to reach for, to climb over, to overcome, to achieve -- and the essential natural drug of succeeding -- that drive spreads itself across numerous trivial things, fizzling into caustic bits, never focusing and never being satisfied.

So why haven't I gone back to work? Or is it because of the challenges of child-rearing (and, apparently, contraception), that I continue with the full-time Mom gig? I don't think so, really....child-rearing challenges are ongoing, not nice neat events with a clear beginning and a clear ending and clear accomplishment. I guess I can unleash my full obsessive-compulsive energies onto the hapless professionals and tradespeople who will help us remodel our house. Which had better have a very clear ending!

After an overall nice day (except for the paddle incident with Julian), there was...tonight.

Maybe a new sign of an impending migraine is impatience. I really got mad at the boys tonight -- for good reason, as usual (and, as usual, related to pestering baby) -- but it turns so ugly that I end up hating myself and hating how I feel. Yes, Gabriel deserved a smack for not going upstairs when told, then hitting me when I approached him. Yes, Julian deserved to be picked up and thrown into his room when he screamed after being told several times to go upstairs to his room for taking things away from Katrina. But the shouting, the anger, the intensity....I hate it. It makes me cry to look at Katrina, feeling that she deserves a much better mother, and that I have to get it together in time for her toddlerdom, as she definitely takes after her ornery older brother. And the boys....I swing wildly between remorse, regret, dismay, then back to being instantly infuriated when they offend for the thousandth time.

I wish I could keep it together. It's much harder to stay calm (especially when you're being called "STUPID" in a shockingly venomous tone) but in the end, I'm a lot happier, and on the whole, they're more obedient too. I was on serious edge tonight, partly being tired from a poor night's sleep, an early start, and a tough run; but I also recognize the wary, ready-to-snap feeling too. Could a looming migraine add to my impatience with them? Incredibly, as awful, noisy, obnoxious, defiant and rude as they can be, they're one thing I know don't cause headaches.

Ah, but they're all in bed now, and it's quiet. Slowly, the good feelings from today's run through the mountain forest are taking over. I can still feel the dirt under my shoes and the cool air on my shoulders and the majesty of the redwoods.

8/19/07

p.s Race results are in! I placed 196 (out of 356), I was 15th out of 24 in my division (women 40-44), and I ran it in just over a 10-minute mile. A flat course and no chatting with other runners and I might break an hour. But what fun would that be?

      DIV PL                                                     PACE
PLACE /TOTAL   NAME                AGE S TOWN            TIME    /MILE
  196  15/24   NOEMI DOUDNA         43 F SUNNYVALE       1:02:44 10:06

8/18/07 Fast Dads

Julian asked me today, "Can Moms run faster than Dads?" I had him repeat the question a few times, to make sure I understood. "Are Moms faster than Dads?" he semi-clarified. Then, "Can all Dads run?"

Apparently, a kid at his day camp was picked up by a man who declined to get into a running game, citing his "old legs." This made a huge impression on Julian, prompting this inquiry into the running capability of Dads. Being fast is of great importance to the boys, who make wild boasts about their speed superiority.

"Can you run faster than Dad?"

"Well..," I said, "Dad might be able to run faster than me at first, but he can't run as far." He wasn't impressed.

Alas, the conversation was interrupted and opportunity to turn it into a "teaching moment" about physical fitness was lost. Old legs, indeed. Don't say stuff like that around my little sponge!

8/18/07

8/17/07 Show biz

Julian's daycamp had a little theatre performance today, in which small groups of kids acted out short nursery rhymes. Julian was a "king's man" from Humpty Dumpty.

Mostly, he stood looking dumbstruck. No burning desire to perform here.

Fortunately, the timing worked out well. I did have to wake Katrina from a nap to get to Julian's performance, but at least she conveniently took an early nap.

Then I brought her and Gabriel to the Y's Childwatch, where I fed her a ham-and-cheese sandwich, to the great surprise of the Childwatch ladies. What, no jar?

The boys were unbearable together this afternoon, so I made sure to "put" Julian down for a nap, for my own sanity. There was no way I could deal with them constantly shouting and running and making obnoxious sounds all afternoon. In fact, it turned into a relatively quiet afternoon, as Katrina took a good long afternoon nap. My goodness, it's so much easier to deal with baby life when I get just an extra hour "off" from a solid 2-hour nap instead of a so-so 1-hour nap!

While the younger two napped, Gabriel drew a bicycle with sidewalk chalk. He was very clear that it had exactly ONE disk brake on the FRONT wheel ONLY.

One thing about having 3 kids: you just never know when they're all going to need something from you at the same time. I went upstairs to get Katrina after her nap, but heard Julian crying, and found this.

Not only did he have a bloody nose, but his attempt to nap without a Pull-Up failed, and he and all his bedding and stuffed animals were soaked in pee and blood. Meantime, Katrina was crying and wanted out, and Gabriel was bouncing around trying to draw Julian into a game of bathroom talk shouted at the top of their lungs.

So, here's what moms of 3 do. One thing at a time. Separate your hazards. It's really no different than what moms of one or two or four or five do.

Send Gabriel downstairs.
Strip Julian.
Start bath.
Strip Julian's bed.
Start washer.
Rescue baby.
Try to keep track of baby as she takes off giggling, while simultaneously reminding Gabriel to stay downstairs, and trying to tend to Julian.

(Note that there is no gate at the top of the steps right now.)

I really try hard to be a good wife and partner and really listen to Dave and be sympathetic to the trials and tribulations in his life. But boy it's hard when he says that things at work are "disruptive and chaotic" right now because his manager is leaving. Oh! Yeah! That's chaotic all right! I just have to remember what "chaos" means to most people. Recalibrate.

Boys at sleepover tonight, they were both looking forward to it. And so was I, though they were both being very good, sweet and downright fun as we were on our way. No fair giving them to someone else for the night when they're being so good!

8/17/07

8/16/07 Mom's brush with CPS

Julian's half-day-daycamp makes for a situation that will one day be commonplace with 3 kids: all three kids go to a different place in the morning. Scramble scramble!

I made the most of my last all-child-free day and went running, deliberately taking my longest route. I made it a little longer, hoping to break 8 miles, but I fell short by 2/10 of a mile. Still, I did climb over 1000 feet. Longer, steeper...yet still easier than last week's wipeout run, since today I didn't have a headache.

After picking up a salad at TJs and making a few East-coast phone calls, still in my sweaty running clothes, I was ready to reward myself with a long, hot bath. Up to my neck in water, jets blasting, mind free-roaming, body relaxed, spirit at peace....ahhhh. This is the life. Peel me a grape. I mused idly about Julian's little theatre performance tomorrow at his dayca...JULIAN!!!!!!!

....OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

>>> JULIAN <<< !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was supposed to pick him up from daycamp by 1:00!!!!!!!

OHHHHH SH***********T !!!!!! What the hell time is it?!!?!?!

I sprung out of the bath and dashed into the bedroom, newly outraged at the lack of timepiece in the bathroom.

1:02. Jesus!!!

You've never seen a faster get-ready. Hair in towel. Clothes, 4 items, grab top of stack for each. Towel on floor. Me on floor (note to self: our wood floors are slippery when wet). Extra 4 seconds to put on sandals instead of slip-ons, so I can RUN LIKE ALL GET-OUT DOWN THE STAIRS THROUGH THE KITCHEN ACROSS THE DINING ROOM OUTSIDE TO PORCH....front door didn't close, too bad....dash into car....stupid seatbelt auto-retractor won't let me pull out the seatbelt fast enough....

1:04. ZOOM!!! Call the Y from the car -- I'M COMING!!!! Don't call Child Protective Services!

1:06. Call Tonya from the car: WE'RE COMING!!!!!!! Catch an unprecedented three green lights on the way.

1:08. Anxiously drive safe speed into Y parking lot, still screech tires into parking spot, jump out of car, and sprint -- yes RUN (ironically! again! after almost 8 miles this morning!) inside.

There, I found Julian happily playing with a balloon with one of the camp counselors. I was there before my time estimate of 7 minutes. I like giving reliable estimates. Especially when I unreliably flake on picking up my 3-1/2-year-old boy in favor of lounging around in the jacuzzi!

They were grateful I'd called, and I made no excuses and flat-out admitted I was in the bath a few minutes ago after a long run this morning. Eeps. My honesty didn't win me any new friends or gold stars.

Julian seemed none the worse for wear, and was oblivious to the near-crisis as I feigned calmness on the way to Tonya's, where he's supposed to be all day today, but Good Mom sacrificed a pickup-free day so he could go to his "yummy" day camp. Bad Mom almost left him at day camp after it was over!

Close call. I was very lucky I remembered when I did. Picking him up at 1pm didn't cross my mind once this morning.

After retrieving the whole "Kat'n'Kaboodle" at 5pm, I kicked back into Mom mode. Moms know what I mean: simultaneously prepared dinner, fed baby, served boys hand and foot, wiped rear ends, answered questions, unlatched helmets, fetched writing utensils, meeting an endless stream of demands. The pace and intensity of Mom life stood in stark contrast to my day of relative relaxation (with one huge blip that is!).

I think the intensity has increased because my darling sweet innocent little baby is turning into a screechy, picky, fickle toddler. Ugh! "I want that NOW NO PUSH IT AWAY WAAHH I WANT IT NOW NO GETIT AWAY FROM ME GIVE IT TO ME GET IT AWAY FROM ME eeeeeEEEEEEEE!"

During this normal madness, I had an un-normal, and welcome, occasion to stop and laugh. The boys are reading the original Winnie-the-Pooh stories with Dave at bedtime, and seem to enjoy them, despite all the British terminology and archaic expressions and sometimes complex sentences.

Julian wanted to draw a Heffalump. And it went about like this:

Julian: I'm going to draw a Heffalump! (pause)....Mommy, what does a Heffalump look like?
Me: Ohhh, we don't know, do we? The story doesn't have a picture. You need to use your imagination.
Julian: I don't need my imagination. I need a picture!

You need more than that, kid. Like a Mom who doesn't forget to pick you up -- but who can go from soaking-wet-naked-in-bath to tearing-out-of-the-driveway in less than 2 minutes!

8/16/07

8/15/07 Old and new friends

What a treat! Today I got a call from my friend Tracy, visiting California from her new adopted home on the East Coast. Tracy and I made friends in dance class at Zohar in 1988 -- yes, that's almost >> 20 << years ago! We've been through so many phases of life since then; it's astounding that we ended up having children about the same age. Her daughter Elizabeth is 4-1/2.

Tracy and Elizabeth picked a perfect day to come over -- Julian and Katrina were here, but Gabriel was on a field trip (to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, cool!). Julian and Elizabeth wasted no time jumping into play. Tracy said usually playdates with a 3-1/2-year-old, especially a boy, for ultra-verbal uber-social Elizabeth don't amount to much, but Julian provided ample interaction, conversation and entertainment. And what a treat for Julian to have free play without bossy older brother around!

Tracy and I barely scratched the surface on catching up over brie, apples and plum cake. But running out of things to talk about was never a problem we had, even when we used to have lunch once a week. Then, we used to talk about men. Now, it's kids.

Julian apparently is now too ma-TOOR to give hugs on command anymore, so shyly gave Elizabeth a handshake goodbye instead.

As they were saying goodbye, Elizabeth said, "I'm sorry I don't live here, Julian!" Aww.

A nice afternoon with an old friend for me, a new friend for Julian.

8/15/07

8/14/07 The Gearhead

This morning, driving to and from Gabriel's swim lesson, he was filled with questions about how cars work, and in particular, the pickup in which we were.

How many pedals does this truck have?
What happens if you push both pedals at the same time?
Do you have a different pedal to go in reverse?
How many reverse gears does your car have?
Where does the exhaust come from?
Is there a driveshaft for every wheel?
Can you go in first gear on the highway?
What kind of brakes does this truck have?
How does the engine connect to the wheels?

And, comments, spoken with authority:

When I grow up, I'm going to have a disk brake -- on the front wheels.
This pickup truck has an automatic transmission.
When you push on the gas pedal, a flap puts more gas on the engine.
I hate clutches because of clutch chatter!

Clearly, he's been talking to Dad way, WAY too much.

Unfortunately for him, my knowledge of cars and engines is limited, and what I do know is restricted to carbureted horizonally-opposed twin engines in now-vintage BMW motorcycles. I make a conscious effort, however, to give him real answers, and not to introduce the stereotype that Moms don't know anything about cars. Even though it's mostly true.

After Gabriel's swim class, I spent much of my day "off" running errands I've been trying to do for a week, and some which I wouldn't dare do with children (like actually entering a bank and talking to a human).

I also went running this afternoon, a moderate route that included passing a lovely shaded bay tree grove. There I had an "ahhh" moment, like the whole world was at peace. It was so pretty in this little canyonway, with cool breezes in stark contrast to the hot and dry hilltops. I felt uplifted, strong, positive, optimistic as the trees and hills and fresh air and scurrying lizards revived me. I was headache-free today, and strength and power coursed through me as I tackled the hills and felt the sun on my skin.

Tonight, Katrina had exactly what the boys did for dinner: turkey burgers, creamed spinach, and rice. Except she ate more of it than they did.

After eating, she finishes off with a sippy-cup of water, which turns out to be a fun toy as well as a drinking vessel. And the wet tray makes great practice for future finger-paints.




I forgot to mention, yesterday after Katrina's swim class, in playtime sitting on the steps, she pulled herself up to a stand for the first time. No doubt the buoyancy helped, and the step was a perfect height for her. She's on her way!

8/14/07

8/13/07 Migraine musings

One of my favorite things about nursing is that it ensures I get some peaceful time alone with my baby a few times a day. Well, usually peaceful -- Katrina likes to beat on me and pull my hair with her free hand these days. But much of the time, I look down at my baby, happily nestled against me, and have a rare moment of feeling like I'm completely satisfying her, like there's nowhere else on earth she'd rather be. And it's during those moments that I ask myself what on earth I could not love about this life.

The past few days, I've been feeling pulled and put upon, frustrated that I can never follow an impulse and do something right as it comes to me. It's impossible to get momentum on even the smallest project. I'm rusty at basic concentration. Soon I feel like a blithering idiot, unable to piece two sentences together, confusing words, making spelling mistakes (and anyone who knows me knows that I DON'T make spelling mistakes). Inevitably, the frustration at my severely compromised intellect gets directed at my poor children.

But I've come to understand that much of the struggle to think through the fog comes from an outside force. A formidable foe, one with very obvious impact, but also with subtle insidious effects that I've sorely underestimated. And that force is the power of the evil migraine headache.

I've had what I know now to be migraine headaches since the 7th grade, but never in such frequency and so long-lasting as now. It seems that more than half my days since Katrina was about 3 months old are spent screaming in agony in my head. The pain makes it not only difficult to enjoy my children, but also makes it difficult to employ remedies to the inevitable unenjoyable things about them. It disturbs my sleep, makes it very difficult to achieve a sense of accomplishment, makes me slog through routines, dread the day.

And now, I see that it causes genuine depression.

I don't think I've ever had a depressive personality. Like most people, I've had really bad times in my life, but I developed coping strategies, worked through them and eventually pulled out. I don't go through cycles of depression; in general my type-A high-energy personality resists them.

But the burden of migraine headaches makes me vulnerable to depression, rendering my anti-bummer coping strategies almost impossible to execute. It weighs heavily on my psyche, making me negative and fearful and even bitter about my life.

It's funny, actually, that the psychologist headache doctor I saw had me fill out a questionnaire about stress factors in my life. He was clearly surprised -- disappointed -- to see that I'd rated most things in my life low-stress. No low-hanging fruit here. If a migraine mom of 3 young children doesn't rate her life high-stress, what do you say? "Getting my 3-year-old to wash his hands before dinner isn't stress," I explained, "It's annoying. Divorce or an ill parent, that's stress." He brushed off my "attitude of gratitude" (in his words) and probed to get me to complain, perking up when I mentioned remodeling -- oh boy, here's an easy one! But before he could finish making a note, I cut him off and explained that while remodeling, I was pregnant, and had no headaches. At a loss, he skimmed past this major clue and continued to read from the script: take more time for myself, sleep regularly, exercise, eat right. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks a lot.

If that's the best a headache-expert psychologist has to offer, then that convinces me that there's nothing to analyze here. I mean, hello -- NO migraines while remodeling pregnant??

Stress isn't causing my migraines. It's the other way around. The migraines, and the ensuing decreased ability to function, is what cause stress. And depression, and negative attitudes. I've heard it for years, but I still don't think my headaches have any psychological root cause. I think they're just plain old physical, but now with devastating emotional effects.

Though last week's full-on migraine broke last Thursday, I've had flickers of headache teetering into migraine territory, ever since. Last night, I slept poorly, waking up often with strange and disturbing imagery, mostly of the reptilian nature. These quasi-nightmares are consistent enough now that they're probably related to the same brain misfirings that cause the searing pain.

And this brings me back around to my bad attitude. No wonder I've been so blue and frustrated about my life the past few days. To be certain, life with three young children -- especially my three young children -- has its very real struggles. And I'm not in my element with babies. But the heavy sense of entrapment, loss of control, that I'll never be myself again, is headache-induced depression. Normal me can step back and see that in a few years -- heck, months -- things will be very different. Normal me sees how unbelievably lucky I am to have three thriving children, a husband I love, and overall good health myself (with one obvious huge exception). Depressed, tunnel-vision, foggy-headed me can only vaguely remember that strong, in-control, confident me ever existed.

I'm really not sure what to do with any of this. I can't let this scourge ruin my life, but paradoxically, it saps my power to fight it. It takes tremendous effort to make even the smallest steps in finding answers. I have to though. I don't want my children to remember me as Migraine Mom.

8/13/07

8/12/07 Double run

Last night when we returned from our "date night," some toys had mysteriously appeared on our doorstep. I had a good idea what this was about (hand-me-downs), and then an even better idea: hide the little hammer that came with a cute castle toy with balls to push down.

Sure enough, the boys were drawn right to the toddler toy like it had a tractor beam. It's a perfect toy for a very young toddler or a baby on the edge of becoming a toddler, but a 5-year-old starting kindergarten? I mean, really!

Naturally, this presented a fabulous opportunity for more fighting and discovery of inequities. Somehow the yellow ball had more value than the red one, and the battles only devolved from there.

However, I'm happy to report that the boys direct all their antagonism at each other. When I remind them that it's *Katrina's* toy and stick her in the fray, they mostly help her play with it, in their overbearing sort of way. She seems to understand the concept of putting a ball in a tower, though you have to push the ball down through the tower, and that she doesn't get yet.

The boys were driving us insane today, running around screeching in circles so much that Dave and I could barely exchange a few words, like to try to figure out what to do that afternoon. There was no shortage of things we each wanted to do, with various combinations of kids, but it was painfully difficult to talk to each other and make it work.

Finally, we managed to form a plan: I'd take the younger two running, and Dave would take Gabriel to buy a bicycle. Not for Gabriel, for Dave, since Gabriel rides much too fast now to keep track of on foot, and he's ready for bigger and better things than going around the block.

My master plan has succeeded!!! Before we ever had kids, I imagined that kids would finally get him exercising, that kids would force us to get out and do young and athletic things. So Dave got a bicycle, and I went running. (I think we'd have been quite happy going wine-tasting too, sitting down on a shaded patio overlooking the valley with a cheese and fruit plate.)

Somehow, I pushed Julian and Katrina in the doubler jogger. I did the flattest route there is at Rancho San Antonio, one that Sonia routinely does with a double jogger (and heavier kids), so in theory, this was doable. And in practice, it was too.

But hoo boy, those usually-kind uphills were tough. I was just barely keeping a running gait, but fell far short of a running pace. Still, if workout is what I was after, workout I got. But when I run, it's not workout I'm after. It's spirit-lifting, perspective-shifting, musing, mood management. All the logistics of a jogging stroller and two young children is counter to that, but being outdoors and surrounded by trees and hills, you can't help but to feel some revitalization.

I chatted with Julian a little, between gasps for air as I struggled up the hills. And inbetween Katrina's loud "aahhhhHHHH" sounds. She always has her feet in the air, silly baby.

Silly baby has really thrown me for a loop this weekend with naps. Amend to: without naps. Both days, only one nap. Both days, several attempts at naps at around the usual times and given the usual signs of needing a nap, but both days, only one so-so nap right around the middle of the day.

This sucks in a few ways. One, I'm not ready for her to drop a nap. Two, she's not ready to drop a nap; she's tired and high-maintenance and edgy all day. Three, Julian has daycamp next week, which means 12:30pm pickups every day, which is suddenly smack dab in the middle of the naptime she did take this weekend. I can't express how much I don't want to spend all afternoon with a baby who really really needs a nap but won't take one.

Sometimes it's overwhelming. I try not to think about how different my life would be with just the two boys. I already think of myself as transitioning to life with little kids, instead of babies and toddlers, but the moment I think of it that way, I remember: oh yeah, I'm still nursing an infant. The doubts and regrets I had about having a 3rd child while I was pregnant have come to bear almost exactly. It's futile thinking, since here we are, but sometimes it creeps in anyway. People do this on purpose? Of course, there are many times -- more times, in fact -- that I feel grateful and amazed that I have three children. And I know this pressure is short-term, that the sense of being crushed under the demands eases every month as the baby matures. But moments of reflection and a broader perspective are few and far between, and hard-won, when I'm pulled on so constantly and so hard.

18 months....18 months is when a corner is turned. And somewhere between 2 and 3, you start to come up for air. I'll take a very deep breath then.

8/12/07

8/11/07 The haircuts

It was time. Katrina's "bangs" were wisping down to the bridge of her nose. So when she wasn't (exactly) looking, I managed to hold a little of those wisps between two fingers and get in a hack or two as she flailed her head wildly from side to side.

Some before and after shots:


I think Julian did a better job on his own hair a few weeks ago, but this will have to do.

Dave took the boys to get haircuts today too. This is as cooperative as I could get either of them to be for photos. I used to think the gel job was dorky, but now I love it. I love dorky.

Fortunately we had Peggy today, so that we could do some remodel shopping and be grownups for an evening. It was long overdue.

Speaking of overdue, I haven't had my own hair cut since the day before Katrina was born, unless you count chopping off the very deadest fly-away bits at the end of a ponytail. Another dorky hack job. Maybe I should have Julian do it.

8/11/07

8/10/07 Baby bust

Argh, not a rewarding baby day. Lots and lots of tense, hectic moments when everyone wants something from me, including me, and baby is screeching her head off. Walk through the door carrying groceries, gym bag, baby....Gabriel wants milk, Julian wants a particular song, Katrina wants valet service, I want to unpack groceries, change clothes, get a drink, put things away in the kitchen to have room to do task #1.... Ah, so far lost are the days when you walked through the door and just collapse and gather yourself for a few minutes. I can't even blow my nose!

To make matters worse, the old trick of sitting Katrina in the high chair and keeping her happy with cereal for a few minutes no longer works. She's decided she must be served finger food, stuff she's perfectly capable of picking up herself, but for some reason, deigns not to. It is utterly futile to insist, as she will shriek her head off and there is no lesson to be learned from sticking it out and making a point with her. After all, she's only 10 months old. At least, I hope it's age and not personality.

The boys kept themselves busy this morning with a new use of their toys: piling them up into a "train."

Against my better judgement, I let the boys play with a new whiteboard, and two dry-erase markers. It overall worked OK, though I did have to set a "turns timer" later in the day.

But there's a new sheriff in town! And someone else to share with. Katrina made a baby-beeline for the attractive new items. Mmmm, toxic permanent marker, yummy.


(This picture is for Cousin Remi, who's famous for her numerous creative use of markers: chewing, dipping in toilets then chewing, drawing on walls, herself, etc.)

Still, I was very glad to put a demanding, edgy, unpredictable baby to bed tonight. I'm afraid we've had enough days in a row of this that it's no longer an "off" time -- I think this is for real. Her newborn self has re-emerged; the sweet smiley darling little thing of 7 months old has yielded to pre-toddler behavior. And the fact that she takes much more after Gabriel than Julian scares the bejeezus out of me.

Then again....Julian. Pre-dinner pee & wash hands has become SUCH a problem. Right as I'm at my peak busy serving dinner, I have to round the boys up and get them to get ready. My divide-and-conquer strategy of starting with one of them works, halfway: Gabriel is usually pretty speedy. But Julian....oh my goodness. Excuses, procrastination, whining, refusal, screaming, crying. It's supremely irritating, and I just don't have room for the endless reminders, warnings and countdowns.

Tonight, Calm Mom gave way to I'VEHADIT, and I carried him upstairs, kicking and screaming, unmoved by his claims of rehabilitation and cries that I was hurting him, tossed him into his room and demanded he stay there until I called for him. Then, my job of serving dinner was reduced to only mayhem, punctuated by the high-maintenance banshee-wailings of my dear daughter if Dad so much as looked the other way while he waited on her hand and foot. Sheesh.

At least I know that when I put Katrina down for the night, I won't see her until the morning. Thank goodness. Gabriel at her age was well into his -- and my -- all-nighters, applying his powerful determination and persistence to a wee-hours party. But, Gabriel also took two 2-hour naps a day, whereas Katrina takes one 1+ hour nap and another 1- hour nap. Sleeping through the night v. great napper...hmmm...eh, sleeping through the night wins.

Speaking of sleep, I was way way wired up last night. None of my usual wind-down methods worked to settle my spinning mind, not even half an Ambien. I was awake until 3am, slept lightly, and couldn't fall soundly back asleep even when woken up by a flock of noisy crows at 6am. I was very tired this morning, but still couldn't nap when I had the chance this morning during Katrina's nap.

But I recognize this energy surge now. It marks the end of a migraine. Yes folks, the storm finally broke, and when it did, the sun shone through so brightly it was blinding. Tonight, I should be back on track. Let's hope Katrina is soon too.

8/10/07

8/9/07 Broccoli

I went running tonight, and wrote a SHORT blog in my head. It went about like this:

Day 5 of migraine. Napped today 'til noon. I SO needed the catch-up.

Gabriel was delayed tonight by a broken-down bus on the way back from a field trip to his first real-live baseball game. He, of course, was thrilled, and delivered the expected analysis upon return: broken driveshaft. Oh.

Julian peacefully munched on raw broccoli stems while I made dinner as a mother of two. How MUCH easier my life is when the boys are apart!

And who knew broccoli stems would make such a tasty treat.

(Man, that boy has a beautiful mouth. His hair on the other hand....)







I attempted one of those cute candid conversations with Julian, but it's pretty mediocre. Here it is anyway.



I don't have a cute photo of Katrina today. This will have to do. She's wearing a spare set of clothes that I sent along to Tonya's, since the cute strawberry outfit she was in hampered crawling. This outfit is just too pink for me. And I just can't get myself to like collars.

Julian today suggested I give his monkey Julius a kiss on the forehead to make the pain go away. Ouch. Why do you think he thinks that kissing foreheads makes headaches go away? That was my way of turning my complaint into a positive, by pretending my headache is all better when the boys give me a kiss on the forehead. But I don't have to pretend much. Few things make me feel better than kisses from my sweet sons.

Short. Remember? SHORT! Maybe there's a chance if I stop....right....NOW.

8/9/07

8/8/07 The Target Day

Our first Wednesday in a long time with nothing scheduled. But somehow, all we managed to do was go to Target!

First, it's Day 4 of a migraine. Today was better, but still oppressive. Julian came to my defense this morning when Katrina was doing her piercing high-pitched shrieking: "Shh, Katrina! Mommy doesn't like that!" Then Gabriel surprised me when I asked him not to make a loud sound, and he said, "Geez Mom, it's been like 3 days!" Why would he know that's a long time for a headache? He's never had one! (and it's been 4, not 3). I try not to complain to the kids about having headaches, but I also don't want them to think I'm always like this. There is a reason.

One strange new thing about these long migraine bouts is the violent and disturbing imagery that flashes through my head as I'm falling asleep. It's scary in a kid-scary sort of way, like a weird evil double leprechaun staring at me, or a big greasy black crow, or being atop rafters in a skyscraper and about to fall off. When it wakes me up, I coach myself to think about something much more benign, like exactly where to place a garbage pull-out cabinet in my future new kitchen!

But enough about that. Today I had just Julian and Katrina, and wanted to take them out this morning. But Katrina was edgy, and I called it right by staying home until she took her morning nap at 10am.

Meantime, she and Julian played together -- yes, together! -- in the family room. This was a very heartwarming scene of them playing with Mr. PotatoHead, each in their own way, but most certainly together, as I cleaned up in the kitchen.

I tried to capture some video of Katrina bopping to Sesame Street, but as soon as she saw the camera, she launched into show-off mode and started crawling toward me. You can see a split second of bopping at first, then her noisy crawling. But the funny thing I didn't even realize until seeing it later: Julian trying to inject himself in the background. Goofy kid!

I had some nice time alone with my sweet middle child today, though it'd have been a lot nicer without the relentless searing pain through my head (oops, there I go again).

I embarked on a rite of passage today, an annual ritual which will be with me for another 18 years, something akin to the running of the bulls: I did my first back-to-school shopping! Oh God!

Gabriel's kindergarten orientation last June included a list of requested donated supplies for his classroom. Katrina and Julian in tow, I diligently searched for, mostly found, all items (including 36 glue sticks?!) in the huge "back to school" section at Target, which was swamped with throngs of other mothers toting other toddlers and similar lists. (Note that I didn't buy one pencil or notebook for Gabriel, as his utterly inadequate kindergarten orientation materials didn't include anything about him.)

As I was checking out, I was starting to get stressed and frantic because Katrina was getting increasingly edgy, grabbing things, making lots of "I'm about to melt down" noises, plus trying to get everything into the cart. Julian was off looking at the photo center's screens as I paid and gathered my loot.

Or was he?

Next thing I knew, a lady approached me holding Julian's hand, and Julian pointed to me saying, "There's my Mom!" She told me he'd been outside. !!!! Yikes! He couldn't have been out there for more than a few seconds, but still. I felt self-conscious and false scolding him; that's really more my fault. Still, I'd been having lots of trouble getting him to stick with me, so I did give him a stern lecture, and later, a stern talking-to by Dad. His explanation was that he went outside to look for me, but he obviously knew where I was since he led the lady right to me.

Any notions I had about taking my poor cooped-up children to a park after Target were squashed by a grumpy, screechy, wiggly baby. Home, snack, and nap it was.

I hear a New Yorker (wearing a Mets shirt, Ronan!) caught Barry Bonds' record-breaking home run ball yesterday. Too bad, 'cause guess where Gabriel is going tomorrow: to a San Francisco Giants game! He missed the record-breaking game by one! Can you imagine if he'd been there?! Well, he'll be there tomorrow, and now, every homer Barry hits is a new record. Gabriel was very, very interested in what a "record" is, and was riveted when he heard that it involved competition and numbers!

Tonight, Katrina had the same exact dinner as everyone else: beef medallions, a harvest grain mixture, and cauliflower, cut in baby-sized pieces straight off my plate. She got some soy yogurt too; I'm never sure if the tiny bits are enough in quantity, and she's certainly not too old for mushy-food. But she didn't blink when I gave her straight cauliflower. She knows exactly what to do with a sippy-cup too, unlike Gabriel who didn't "get" sippy-cups until he was 16 months old. I'm thrilled about her food flexibility. So far I've managed to escape food issues with all three.

(Poor Dave...as I type, his Mac is completely hung up and won't even boot. Ah yes, the Mighty Macs, the infallible, foolproof, idiotproof, antithesis of Windows -- that can be completely hosed by a 3-year-old playing with the login dialog screen!! Stevie, have I got a QA guy for you!)

8/8/07

8/7/07 Wrung out

No kids today, but what a waste. Reeling under the migraine headache, and from being woken up out of sound sleep last night by intense searing stabbing pain behind my right eye (the so-called "icepick" variant of migraines).

My own compulsion didn't help matters. I made myself go running today after Gabriel's swim lesson, knowing this would be the only chance I'd have all day. And, I took a long, hard route -- too hard. I felt beat up. The uphills were brutal, with every muscle screaming, lactic acid coursing through every limb, barely able to lift my feet for each step. But the uphill effort obliterated other pains: the pounding headache, stitches, sleepiness, all which returned in force on the downhills. Yet I still loved being out there, all 7-1/2 miles of it.

After the long, very hard run, I picked up a yummy salad and a few other things at Whole Foods, then rewarded myself with a long hot bath, and then a long nap, after which I made some hot coffee and dug into my hard-won salad. It wasn't until 3pm that I finally sat down in the office to get to work. By then, I was in no mood to shop around for home equity lines of credit. So I updated my kitchen wish list instead.

Tonya had a tough time with Katrina today. Poor baby's tummy seems a little upset, so she used up all the diapers I'd brought, and then some of other babies'. Katrina likes looking at the bathtub as it's filling up, but tonight she was crying because of a resulting diaper rash.

I tried to get a happy picture of her, but the best I could do was to not show her face. Still, this is interesting -- she's inherited Mom's short legs!

Gabriel did great at his swim lesson again this morning. His teacher told me he's about to get bumped up a level, to a "red" ribbon. She laughed when I told her about last Saturday's new swim lesson, in which he was pulled off the side of the pool in a careful circle by a teacher going "whee!"

I realized today that now that Gabriel is old enough, swim lessons really do contribute to his water safety. I'm not sure when exactly the corner was turned, but it's not just for fun anymore. There's still a great deal of risk, some directly as a result of swim lessons: overconfidence, getting in over his head. But at this point, he's safer in a backyard pool than a kid who can't swim, perhaps even safer than a kid who depends on flotation devices. Which, according to various lifeguards and other water-safety sources, aren't always dependable. Better than nothing if you can't swim, but not as good as being able to swim. (In a pool that is; ocean and boat safety are a whole other matter.)

Even Julian is swimming well enough that I think his skill might possibly be a positive factor in a water emergency. Katrina, of course, swims only for fun and comfort in the water, so far. I'm looking forward to the boys starting swim lessons together (at the same time that is) at DACA on Saturdays starting in September.

I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller today. And I did it to myself. No running tomorrow, but no childcare either. Oh please, please, no migraine either. It subsided tonight, but I can feel flickers of it, like a thunderstorm taking a break before the next surge of lightning strikes.

8/7/07

8/6/07 Migraine Monday

Did today actually happen? It was just a big blur, of intense pressure and sharp pain. The few moments when I wasn't staggering in pain were spent feeling angry and frustrated that my life is so compromised by this. It's such a waste of time.

I think today was the first day ever that my most troublesome child (code for "least favorite," but face it, we all feel that way sometimes) was Katrina. Her new high-pitched screech is piercing, incredibly loud, long-lasting, and a very bad mix with a migraine headache. It's like someone's taking a sharp awl and stabbing it into my ears, and is torture when she's screeching in an echo-y bathroom when I'm changing her. Owch.

I guess one good thing about hurting so badly all day is that I couldn't even try to do much. So I spent some time playing music for Julian and Katrina and playing instruments with them. Katrina loves music, instantly bopping and flailing and smiling as soon as she hears it.

She had a lot of fun rattling an egg shaker, then banging on a drum with Julian, who also loves music. All kids do, really, but I think Julian takes to it more than Gabriel does. Katrina, we don't know yet; all three of my babies responded enthusiastically to music; Julian's stuck with it more than Gabriel.

After swim lessons today, I was beside myself with agony -- and I don't use that word lightly. So no matter how bad I felt, I was getting the younger two down for naps at the same time if it killed me. Indeed, failing at that is what would kill me. I pulled it off, and then went straight downstairs to scarf some lunch, then lie down.

But a Good Mom would have noticed that even my ultra-self-entertaining oldest child was bored. This is a new thing: Gabriel needs new things to do. All our toys are oriented to younger kids. He still plays frequently with his beloved wooden train tracks, but that's a toy he's had since before he was 2 (talk about longevity!). He's ready for more.

So I played a rainy-day trump card, and pulled out something I'd stashed for just such an occasion: a kit of foam pieces to glue together into a castle. He took right to it, and put it together meticulously, following the example picture exactly. This kept him happy the rest of the afternoon.

Tonight I was working on dinner, when suddenly, I saw the pantry door started to move mysteriously. Hmm! What could be going on here?

I soon had my answer.



Little creepy-crawly into the baking stuff. Right after my own heart!

Despite feeling exhausted and dejected, I made myself go to the Y tonight after Katrina was in bed. It helped somewhat. I have way too much to do tomorrow to waste it sleeping off a horrible headache.

8/6/07

8/5/07 They're baa-aack....

23 days! I went 23 days without a migraine headache! The way this year's gone with headaches, that's downright startling.

I know this because I endured 9 straight days of life-altering brutal depressing pain in July, then got really really sick. But the first day I was really sick, I didn't have a headache. And haven't had one since.

Until last night, that is. I felt the "prodrome" -- the warning signs. Irrationally, unbearably, almost painfully sleepy, and very sensitive to loud sharp sounds, though who can tell? Loud sharp sounds are a way of life around here.

Then this morning...the onset of the familiar, dreadful, sharp, pressure and pain. Oh, how wonderful and free life is without it! How productive, optimistic, energetic -- even happy -- I can be about each day!

In the hurried $160 ten-minute brush-off I got from my last appointment (and I do mean last) with the headache doctor, between scribbling his notes and glancing nervously at the clock, he said slightly condescendingly that I should take the Imitrex when I first start to feel the migraine. I reminded him that he'd told me to take it at the onset of pain, not at the prodrome -- two events that can be separated by up to a day. No, no, he said, take it when you start to feel you're going to get it. Cap on pen. Close folder. Fold hands. Direct look at me. "Anything else?" Don't worry, I know where the door is.

I took some Imitrex this morning, and was overall pain-free until tonight, though the pressure and resulting sleepiness were still there all day. I went running tonight too, and the first half of the run was miserable, until the endorphins kicked in and overcame the pain. A good steep uphill took care of that.

My only outing today was to go to a friend's house that's being remodeled, to check out the kitchen and the whole house too. She and her husband and 3-year-old son moved out for the remodel, which is really more like building the entire house from scratch. Last week, I went to another friend's mother's house to check out her very well-thought-out and feature-filled kitchen too. One kitchen isn't finished; the other has been lived in for almost 20 years. Two very valuable perspectives! Each visit is very productive, in getting thinking about big things (flow) and small features (appliance garage or not?).

Lots of sniffing around other peoples' kitchens, reading magazines, quizzing friends and daydreaming has driven home the utter inadequacy of my own kitchen. My existing kitchen only has 5 drawers. Five! And one of those is broken! Which doesn't matter much because it's almost at the floor anyway. Most bathrooms have more drawers!

I brought Julian with me to check out my friend's house. I didn't want to stick Dave with all 3 alone if I didn't have to, and removing Julian from the mix is optimal. He seemed elated at this special trip, saying thank you to me again and again for bringing just him. He asked why Gabriel wasn't coming, and I explained, with some truth, that Gabriel was staying home to "take care" of Katrina. Julian was pretty good at my friend's construction-zone house, for a while, and when he started to get annoying, my friend's husband took him outside to look for squirrels, permanently making a new friend.

When we got home, it turned out that Katrina was still napping -- she took one three-hour nap today. As much as I love baby naps, I'm already ready for her to drop one nap, but she was so tired by 6:00pm that it's clear she's not ready for that yet. She's only 10 months old (today!) after all.

Well, I was looking forward to tomorrow, believe it or not, even though I'll have all 3 all day. Maybe it's because I know that "all 3 all day" is soon going to end, since Gabriel will belong to the schools in a few weeks. How infuriating that I'll spend one of those now-precious "all 3 all day" days fighting with a miserable headache and desperate to go to sleep. I could use another 23 days off.

8/5/07