Who is Sarah?

It was April, 2000.  I was newly pregnant and I had an absolutely miserable cold.  I was sniffling, sneezing and I was pretty sure that my head was going to explode.  Of course, it was after hours for my obgyn, so I couldn't ask him whether I could take Sudafed.  I hadn't told anyone other than my husband that I was pregnant, I wasn't showing, but I was full scale preggo paranoid.  So having no one in person to ask, I did what we all do now .... I turned to the internet.  After a few searches and clicks and clacks, I happened upon a series of "expecting clubs" at a major baby/pregnancy website.  The expecting clubs were arranged by month.  Those with babies due in May of 2000 formed one group, those due in June 2000 formed another, etc, etc, all the way out to the newbies like me due in November 2000 - who in April were just a smidge over 2 months pregnant.  I found that the expecting groups each had hundreds, if not a thousand plus members.  I began to browse the November 2000 group.  Finding many kindred (read: pregnant) souls, I decided to register and post my question.  Can I take Sudafed while pregnant?  I don't recall the answer.  But I do know that's how it began.  The amazing journey that has changed my life and so many other lives.  

As the months wore on, as November of 2000 approached, more and more women found the November 2000 expecting club.  There were hundreds of members, some who posted frequently, others who lurked and everything in between.  As summer rolled around, we posted our excitement at so many milestones like the first flutters of the baby kicking - especially us first timers like me, and we collectively relied on the wisdom of the others, some of whom were having their 5th baby in some cases. 

We commiserated over our discomforts - reflux, swollen ankles, aching backs, and swapped home remedies.  Whatever the complaint, all of us women understood.  We truly understood because there is something universal about the experience of being pregnant and especially being so exactly-the-same-amount-pregnant as we all were.  We talked about our bodies, about our partners, about our friends, about our jobs, about our other children, about breastfeeding, about pretty much any and everything.  We especially enjoyed discussing the boorishness of the men in our lives who didn't understand that sometimes we needed, yes NEEDED spaghetti and sugar cookies at 11:30 pm.  And that yes, he needed to leave the house and get these items.  RIGHT. NOW!  We understood, the November 2000 sisterhood. 

As the months progressed, we planned our nurseries, bought clothes, had baby showers, and began to literally count the days until our due dates.  Our very first November 2000 baby, Shelby, arrived in October 2000.  Lots of other babies then began to follow in quick succession, with our last Nov00 baby coming sometime in mid December.  Mine came along exactly on his due date of November 2nd, for which I was grateful, as I watched the agony of other Nov00 mommies waiting and waiting past their due dates with swollen bellies and aching bodies.  But eventually of course, we all became Nov00 mommies, not just expectant mommies. 

The website that administered the expecting clubs then changed over the groups after the due date month passed to be "playgroups".  So we became the November 2000 playgroup, or just Nov00 to all of us.  Members continued to find us over the first year especially and the group probably reached 1,200-1,500 registered members at its peak.  But as the years wore on, the group shrunk - natural attrition.  So after a few years of being a playgroup on the public website, we decided to take the group to a private website that was password protected and invite only.  There were probably about 100-120 of us at that point who were active and were still interested in reading or posting to the group.  I volunteered to adminstrate the website and the whole group moved to a private site. 

This turned out to be an amazingly positive thing because the privacy afforded to us on the new website - unfound by google, impossible to access without an invite only username and password - which were controlled by us - allowed us to talk.  To really talk.  About life.  About things that mattered.  We opened up about our lives in ways that we never had before.  We revealed our marital problems, our health problems, our fears, our pasts, our dreams, our victories, our fall flat on our faces humiliations.  And we were there for each other.  It was a bit odd because the vast majority of us had (and still have not) met in person.  So the somewhat anonymous feel that gives, allows one to open up in ways you wouldn't perhaps, with a casual friend over coffee.  Its safe to say something on a computer screen.  But yet, on the flip side, precisely because of that, we felt more bonded to each than people who we'd known as life long in person friends. 

It has now been 11 years since the formation of the November 2000 Expecting Club, then the November 2000 Playgroup, now we are just Nov00.  There are about 40 of us left that form the Nov00 mommies.  Plus one guy.  There is a sole daddy who was accepted by all the moms and stuck it out with us.  He is the spouse of a Nov00 mommy, and is every bit as much a member as any other mom.  

Sarah is a Nov00 mommy.  I am a Nov00 mommy.  When one of us sick, we rally to their side.  When one of us is sad, we rush to support her.  When one of us succeeds, we all clap and shout louder than anyone else.  We have experienced almost everything that life has to throw at us collectively.  We have experienced divorce, death of a spouse, death of a parent, disability of a child, a near fatal car accident, miscarriages, mental health crises, health crises, cancer, stillbirth, job losses, abuse, and now we are facing the thing we never thought we would have to face: the death of one of us.  A Nov00 mommy will become a Nov00 mommy angel soon, very soon. 

Sarah has fought a heroic, valiant and dare I say, kick-ass, battle against breast cancer for 4 years now.  She has a son Ben who is a Nov00 baby.  She has another son Sam who is 2 years younger.  Her husband is Alan.  All of them will lose her, as will we.  As will all of the friends, acquaintences and people she has touched in her tragically short life.  So to those who ask? 

I have never met Sarah in person.  But Sarah is my friend.  Sarah is a mother.  Sarah is a wife.  Sarah is a daughter.  Sarah is a niece. Sarah is a friend to so many.  Sarah is going to be gone from the earth soon but she will never, ever, EVER, be gone. 

May her children and husband find peace and comfort somehow from knowing the Nov00 mommies are deep in mourning with them. 

Godspeed Sarah. 

alansarahblog.blogspot.com

The Santa Secret

How Offspring still believes in Santa, I'll never know. I outright told him 3 years ago that I am Santa, but he has since told me that he knows that I told him that just to "make me feel better because back when I was a little kid, I was afraid of Santa and the Easter Bunny breaking in like robbers. But now I'm not afraid of that". Me thinks he just figures that he gets more presents if he believes in Santa, not knowing that he'd still get just as many presents sans Santa, it'd just be that they'd all be under the tree and from us. On that note, I picked up Offspring and one of his friends from school the other day because its been so ungodly cold (high teens temp with winds 25-30 mph taking the windchill near zero). Offspring walked ahead a bit and his friend said to me "I'm kinda sad because last night my mom told me the Santa Secret". I said "well, don't tell Offspring!". She said "Oh no, I wouldn't, my mom made me promise to never tell anyone... (pause) ... wait! (with panic in her eyes) YOU know the Santa secret right??". Me trying not to laugh "What Santa Secret? ... (pause) ... yes, I know".

How to get what you want

Offspring has been playing with a friend who lives down the street, and she loves dogs. When they play here, she gloms onto Dog and just loves him. I taken to walking Dog with them, where I double leash Dog so that she can walk him, but I have secondary backup controls in case he sees a: cat, squirrel, rabbit, goose, or duck. In those cases, Dog yanks the leash so hard that he has actually* pulled me over once he spies one or more of those creatures. His prey drive is strong and intact - to say the least. 

Today, she came over after school and we took Dog for a walk. I double leashed Dog, but this time attached him with a long leash to Wheeler's chair and a short one for her. Unlike me, Dog physically incapable of pulling Wheeler's chair even one inch - with him in it, the chair is almost 500 pounds. That and Offspring was sitting in Wheeler's lap today during the walk, so add another 50 pounds. We went up and around the far edge of the lake, and I let Dog go .... and go and go! He ran like the wwww-iiiii-nnnn-dddd with absolute sheer joy in every gallop leap and turn. Then, he ran pell mell into the it-surely-must-be-cold-in-November lake up to his belly so that he was covered in water, dirt and utterly disgusting green algae. HE STUNK. Badly!! That little adventure ensured that I'd be giving him a much needed (even before his lake run) bath tonight. 

We're walking back from the lake and Offspring's friend was again lamenting the fact that her parents won't let her get a dog. My son decided to be helpful and explained how to procure her much wanted dog. 

OK, here's what you do. You BEG. You just say please please please please PLEASE PLEASE pleasepleasepleaseplease until they get so sick of it they say ok eventually. That's what I do!

Ahhhhhh, that's my boy. Sharing wisdom (and my parenting weaknesses) with the world. 

My brother has a pig named Bacon

I can't really top that!

I am Poodle. Pamper me.

I'm on the back porch. Trying to look casual. Turning on the water, pretending to water my plants. My mom quietly brings out two ratty towels wrapped around a bottle, and hands them to me as if dropping off a covert package between spies. 

Damn. 

He saw the shampoo bottle. 

This means that now I have to come in off the back porch and chase Dog, who was previously whining to come on the back porch with me, all over the house. He knows. Shampoo bottle = bath. And despite his breed being a WATER DOG, he loathes a bath. Absolutely hates it with a passion. 

So I chased him around the house, eventually cornering him in a bedroom upstairs. Then I have to drrrrrag him down the stairs and out the door, with the DRAGGING becoming harder and harder the closer we get to the back door. Hosed him down, lathered him up, with him getting lower and lower to the ground the whole time. And just when he hits maximum suds + water? 

SHHHHHHHAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKE!

Which of course soaks me entirely. He looks at me as if to say "see?!". Finish washing, rinsing (with several more shakes in there) and dry him off with the aforementioned ratty towels. 

Now, the poodle part kicks in. 

Its dark, so I can't just set him in the sunshine to dry. I call him and he follows me up the stairs into the bathroom, and he sits down expectantly. He knows what comes next. The hair dryer. Ahhhhhhh. He hearts the hair dryer. Seriously. He loves the hair dryer! I dry him, with him turning his head up, down, side to side, and then? He lifts his paw. Seriously. "Please dry me under here too, thank you my servant owner". 

Good grief.

Six Word Memoirs

I have this book from the library (see 2 ago previous entry) called "Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs By Famous and Obscure". They are wickedly awesome and surprisingly diverse. Some of the ones I really, really like are below. Some I like for their pithiness, some for their closeness to my own experiences, and some are just funny.

A sake mom, not soccer mom.

Tombstone won't say "Had health insurance".

Wasted time regressed so changed life.

Catholic school backfired! Sin is in.

Made a mess. Cleaned it up.

Bad brakes discovered at high speed. <-- I think this is me

I was born. Some assembly required.

I'm enjoying even this downward dance.

I recognize red flags faster now.

Macular degeneration. Didn't see that coming.

No words can describe my life.

Red diaper baby, hippie bourgeoise adult <-- I wrote my overcoming upbringing one before I read this one

Girlfriend is pregnant my husband said.

I was and now I'm not.

In a Manolo world I'm Keds.

I'm just here for the beer!

I've been thinking of my six word memoir candidates. So far I have:

Crazy. Worth effort to be with. 

One mom. One boy. Happiness found.

Had career, lost it, was happier.

Free spirit overcame straightlaced conservative upbringing

And Offspring came up with this one, which is the title of this blog:

It wasn't funny ... at the time.

And also:

If it's fun, don't do it.

What is/are yours?

Wee wee wee bee bee bee music

Did you know that there is an XM/Sirius station that is only Elvis songs (note: also sung by Elvis, no covers). Well, there is. There is also a station that is only Jimmy Buffet (note: no covers either). These are the only two stations my dad ever listens to. EVER! For real, I'm not joking. The only station my mom listens to is the sixties channel. EVER!  OK, sometimes she listens to 40s ands sometimes to 50s and gasps, sometimes to Faux News.  Jesus H. Christ, help me.  

Even Offspring is uber sick of sixties though, he exasperately asked me awhile back "Mom, why does grandma always listen to the "wee-wee-wee-bee-bee-bee" station? (think chipmunk voice). I said it was because she grew up listening to that music and she still liked it. He asked if I grew up listening to 60s, and I said no. He asked what I grew up listening to and I said the 80s. He said "But mom, you so totally don't listen to the 80s! Why is grandma stuck in the past?! Geeesh. That crap gets on my very last nerve. The apple doesn't fall from the tree eh - in both the manner of speaking and our mutual annoyance of listening to the 60s ad infinitum.

So my parents and I (sans Offspring) were driving to go out for dinner last night and as always, the car was tuned to the sixties channel. I asked if we could puuhhhhhleaze turn the station to something in, say, this century. Much to my shock, my dad agreed, and switched it to a top 40 station (I had to tell him which one though, as 18, 56, 6 and Faux News are all that he knows). Turning it to the station I requested, an Eminem song that I absolutely love was on - that one with Rhianna, I Love the Way You Lie. I love that song, and I said as much, that its on my ipod.  Befoere I had to fully process that hmm, maybe this wasn't the best song to have playing just now, here is where the song picked up, with the lyrics bangin' slammin' loud (cuz my dad is partially deaf, he can't hear unless it is TURNED UP TOO LOUD FOR EVERYONE ELSE):

Baby it was me

Maybe our relationship

Isn't as crazy as it seems

Maybe that's what happens

When a tornado meets a volcano

All I know is

I love you too much

To walk away though

Come inside

Pick up your bags off the sidewalk

Don't you hear sincerity

In my voice when I talk

Told you this is my fault

Look me in the eyeball

Next time I'm pissed

I'll aim my fist

At the dry wall

Next time

There will be no next time

I apologize

Even though I know it's lies

I'm tired of the games

I just want her back

I know I'm a liar

If she ever tries to fucking leave again

I'mma tie her to the bed

And set the house on fire

Needless to say, I'll never hear anything but wee-wee-wee-bee-bee-bee ever again in the car. Sigh.

Me versus the bee

I was sitting on the front porch yesterday, reading a book, happily minding my own business when I heard a prop engine plane approaching me. As in 10 feet away approaching me. And it wasn't a prop plane, it was a giant, huge, large, massive, did-i-say-BIG bee. I'm talking 2 inches long, and about half again as wide. It looked like a small barrel with wings. And a stinger. And antennae. I think I might have even glimpsed a tatoo. This was the mack dady of all bees. The QE2 of bees. The 747 of bees. OK, I think you get the idea, it was a big ass bee. 

I froze in place because I have always had a nearly pathological fear of bees. I've only been stung once - by a wasp when I was 31 years old, but I've been terrified of them all my life. When I was stung by the wasp, it was because I disturbed their nest inadvertantly - I was trimming the hedges in the front yard when I must have also trimmed their nest. I suddenly was surrounded by wasps (it still gives me heart palpitations thinking about it now, a decade later). I was really lucky that only one managed to sting me. And the sting didn't feel like I expected, it didn't sting, it felt like a dull nail was being hammered into me.

So I know that bees don't want to sting, they just want to fly around, eat pollen and get happy. If you don't bother them, they don't bother you. I have very slowly over the years gone from trying to jump out of a car going 30 mph when a wasp came through the window [really, I did - I unbuckled my seat belt with left hand and began to open my door with my right hand, only the driver reaching over and grabbing my left arm hard and pulling me back in saved me] to trying to freeze in place when I see them and wait for them to retreat. But its the buzzzzzzzz that gets me. I am petrified when I hear that low bzzzzzzzz sound, and this big boy, its sound was BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. It was SO loud, and soooooo scary. My coping technique is to close my eyes, cover my ears, and then count to 20, by which time it is usually gone (although not always) ... and then I flee. Which is what I did. He was gone, I ran in the house, hyperventilated, and swore to myself I would not go back outside until at least November. 

It was sooo nice though, just gorgeous. I decided to try again. I went back out, sat for a few minutes. Then, BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. He was back. This time, I couldn't escape. I covered my eyes and ears two times and he was still flying around the porch each time I opened my eyes. Finally, he started going down the ramp towards the yard, and I figured I could make my escape. But that was when Dogette, who was sitting at the top of the ramp, saw an irresistable toy (the bee). She perked up, which caught the bee's attention, which further intrigued Dogette. Then the bee started circling her tail, which she beat furiously, whirling in circles, trying to investigate this very interesting and noisy toy (the bee). At this point I realized I was in mortal danger. The bee was pissed off. Dogette didn't know that a pissed off bee is a tres uber very bad thing. I was too close to the front door to just jump up and run in, at least in my estimation, because I was afraid it would see my movement as more interesting than Dogette's movement, and follow me. And if followed me in the house I would have to either a) kill it or b) move out until the bee died of natural causes.

So I sat still. In a total panic. Every time I closed my eyes and opened them, the bee and Dogette were still locked in mortal combat. She was swatting it with her paw, it was dive bombing her repeatedly .... and I will admit here, that I kinda hoped that it would sting her in lieu of stinging me, I know, I am a tres uber very bad person. Better her than me, right? Then finally, the bee flew far enough away that Dogette lost interest.

Whew.

Until.

The bee now started flying in and around Dog's interesting, floofy poodle tail. He was farther down the ramp off into the yard about 10 feet away. I obsessively watched the bee and Dog. Relying on my multiple degrees in mathemagic, I calculated (on the fly, in a near panic), the optimal vector and timing of my escape. I inched sllllllowly towards the door. I needed to be absolutely sure that the amount of time it would take me to open it, back in (so as to keep my eye on the bee) and shut the door was clearly exceed the amount of time it would take the bee to fly at his top speed to my location. As I waited (and now half hoped for Dog to be stung so as to remove all danger from me, I'm a bad person, I know), the bee miraculously decided to go check out a bush farther out in the yard. This was my chance!! I bolted in the house, shut the door, obsessively looked everywhere around the door to make sure the bee didn't possess a covert warp drive and had managed to come in the house. 

He hadn't.

The end.


And yes, I am the only person I know (and probably you know, or ever will know in the course of your lifetime) who can write this much about an encounter with a bee.

Thoughts from a really weird wedding

Weird in the good sense. Weird is a high compliment here, as it makes you ONE OF US, to be weird. 

In no particular order, just the order they pop into my head: 

The girls (meant broadly since I'm not really a spring chicken) all got to wear whatever dress we wanted - as long as it was black and/or red. I loved how Bride phrased it "I want you all to look like YOU". We all felt comfortable and it made it such a neat assortment of outfits. Wellll, except one (just don't ask about the striped socks). And I must say that I wore 4 inch red satin stilettos, against direct medical advice but they were soooooo sexy I just couldn't not. But after 10 mins I gave up and switched into more sensible shoes. Maureen couldn't walk with her 4.5 inch shoes on the cobblestones and ended up going barefoot in her fishnets for the whole thing - pics, ceremony, reception. I forgot Offspring's shoes at the hotel, so he wore bright red snow boots with his fancy evening wear. Hey, it matched the theme: black, red, and weird. 

An elf crashed the reception. Really. A guy wearing a head to toe green and red elf costume (presumably on clearnace after christmas) with a blinking red light on his cap. Everyone assumed somebody else knew him. But it turns out, no one did. 

When asking the formality "If anyone here objects, please state your objections now", a guy jumped out of his seat and attacked Groom with a light sabre. More notably, Groom fought back. And won. There were also light sabers at the reception. Every guest got one, if you were under 5 feet tall, you got two (that was an on the fly rule). When they danced their first dance, the whole place spontaneously lit up their sabers and waved them, lighter style, during the dancing. *word*

I was the maid of honor. No one calls me a maid, and I certainly have no honor, but I was VERY honored to be the maid of honor. However, the down side was that the wedding ceremony was right in front of a huge roaring fire in a gorgeous fireplace and I was front and center in its path. OMG, I though I was going to melt. I surreptiously asked the other girls to scooch down so that my hair wouldn't pull a Michael Jackson Pepsi move, I had on so much hairspray it felt like a linebacker's helmet. 

During the ceremony, the bride and groom exchanged heartfelt vows (although barely heard through Bride's sniffling, geeez), after which there was an awkward pause where the officiant looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights. As we all started looking around trying to figure out what to do next, Daughter - now imagine her, in a gorgeous satin red frock, white faux-fur shawl, red hair bow - shouts "Now .... KISS!", waving her hands at them as if to say WELL DUH! After the laughter died down, they exchanged rings (that's the bit that was supposed to be after the vows that everyone seemed to forget) - then the officiant leaned over and stage whispered to Daughter "do it again". Daughter then proclaimed, loudly and with even more gusto, the kind that only Daughter can muster NOW KISS!!!

Someone made the cake. Like an actual person who attended the wedding, and it was a real cake, not a fancy pancy wedding cake that looks more like art than food. It was peanut butter and m&ms. How awesome is that?! And, Bride ensured I had gluten free food. She's the bestest. And the food was awesome, really really good. With an open bar, and as a driver, I made sure I ate ALOT of food. 

Groom and Bride have some cool friends. And I finally met a friend, whom I've known online for 10 years and only just now met face to face there for the first time. Ian was alright too. If he hadn't been, this friend and I would have ...... "lost" .... the groom and there would be no groovy photos and stories. And if he ever looks at her sideways for the rest of his life ... she and I will .... well, let's just keep that a surprise. In reality, Groom ROCKS way super much. Don't tell him tho, it'll go to his head. 

They actually got married Wed night at a tiny courthouse by a very cute, old, and prone to rambling about toothpaste, judge. Right after that, Groom freaked and had his wedding ring cut off his finger. No joke. Long story. But they're still married, you can swell up too big for the ring, but you're stuck with the girl forever. And the $15 ring we bought near midnight at walmart on new year's eve worked just fine for the ceremony. It'll make a great story for the grandkids someday. Hell, it was already funny as it was happening! 

Groom and Daughter had a daddy daughter dance, he held her and she put her head on his shoulder and they danced to Anti-Lullaby, a song he sings to her at night. I cried. It was just so beautiful and made me see immediately why Bride loves him so much. And right after the ceremony, Son said to Groom as we were going up the stairs to the reception "Now we're an official family now, right? OFFICIALLY?" and he said yes. They may be an unusual family but an amazing one. 

On the way home, it took us 90 mins to go the first 25 miles. I was very annoyed. The wiper fluid froze up in the thingies (the technical term is actually Thingie-Dingies 2.1 twin pack) and I had to use the posts of my ruby earrings to clear out the ice. Oh, and it only worked on one side after that. Not my side of course. 

There is a great place called Mama on the Half Shell in Baltimore that is awesome. We used the GPS to find seafood in Baltimore, and the first place I picked was closed. The second place was closed. We finally struck gold on the third try - it was fabulous. I tried oysters for the first time. I can't quite get the point of eating them since you just gulp them down like a tablet of tylenol. Wheeler says they put wood in your pencil. But I write with a pen!!

Congrats, Groom* and Bride, Son and Daughter. I love you ALL so very much. 


*as long as you stay on my good side.