Baby Poop and Business Suits

Let's talk about penises.

Just for a second.

Honestly, I can not remember if I've ever mentioned this on this blog, cause, I figured, it's nobody's business, especially not the whole wide internets - but, hey, what the heck.

We did not circumcise our son.

There, I said it! Now the whole damn world knows.

I just couldn't do it! (That sweet, perfect, darling baby... No knife was coming NEAR his perfectness.)

If my husband were making the decision without me, it wouldn't have even been a decision. He's not the kind of guy to rock the boat and he wouldn't have even thought about it. He just would have done it without question, I mean, he is circumcised, I'm assuming his father was circumcised, and his father, etc. etc. He would have just done it, closed the book, enough said.

My son Niko is now 2.5 years old, but still, I have been finding myself questioning our decision and wondering if I have been wrong. My family thought I was crazy. The guilt. Always the mother guilt. Until....

...I watched MOMVERSATION, a video blog site that features many of the top-mom-bloggers talking about mommy issues. In this one that I have linked to, they discuss circumcision, and, it looks like I'm indeed not a freak! Lots of parents are choosing not to circumcise, due to the fact that in America, it's really a religious conviction or a "well, his DAD was circumcised, so he want him to look like daddy" thing...

So, I'm coming out of the closet. We've got foreskin up in here. So be it. Apparently, I didn't even know it, but I'm joining the ranks of some of the great mommy bloggers out there who are also choosing not to cut the skin off the tip of their perfect baby boys' penises.

Daphne Brogdon, you go girl... I'm with ya (and congrats on your brand new baby boy! Maybe your son and mine can be email pals and share penis mockery stories when they are in Jr. High!)

Mommy bloggers of the world, UNITE!

YES WE CAN

I just received this email from my sister - she summed up the way I am feeling today, and I thought I would share this. Over the past few years, I have been embarrassed by our country. I did not feel like I belonged. But today, I do. This is a new day. I am proud to be an American.

From my sister, Hillary:

Last night, I was in Grant Park, Chicago, and watched the election results. As I looked around it was evident that the crowd was America—we were black, white, Latino, young, old, gay and straight. I was proud to be standing side by side, shoulder to shoulder with all these people that come from very diverse backgrounds, yet we still are the same. We are Americans. It was an awesome experience and I could not think of a better place to be as our country made history and entered into a new era.
 
I know that many of you do not have the same feelings today as I do. But, like our president elect Barack Obama, I am reaching across the aisle. America and the world are facing major crises—our globe is facing a huge economic meltdown and recession; the US is engaged in two wars and fundamentalist extremists on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan are gaining strength; our planet Earth is facing a severe global warming threat will lead to a chain of catastrophic natural disasters if left unchecked. We need to come together, address these issues and find solutions to bring our country and the world out of these disasters.
 
One quote from George W. Bush after 9/11 was “you’re either with us, or against us.” I was not on board with Bush’s initiatives, so by default, I was out.  For those of you that do not have the same feelings that I do this morning, I can empathize with your feelings. However, I can assure you of one thing—Barack Obama’s administration will work with you. Obama's administration will see your perspective and he will make you feel included. If you’re not with him, then tell him what your opinions are and we’ll come to an understanding. We need to bridge these gaps if we are going to address the catastrophes’ we are facing. Please, let’s work together to get out of this messes. We're only at the beginning.
 
Today I feel proud. I am proud to live in a country where intelligence is respected and rewarded. I am proud to live in a country where we will seek a diplomatic path before war. I am proud to live in a country where every child of any race and any religion can believe again they can be whatever they want to be. I am proud to live in a country that will seek to be on the frontier of new technology and new energy. I proud to live in a country that will assume a leadership position against the fight on global warming. I am proud to live in a country that is respected again by the world. I am proud that we have an inspiring first family in the white house. I am proud to be an American.
 
My final comment is that I heard John McCain’s speech last night and I applaud this speech and have a lot of respect for his comments and him as a person.
 
Congratulations America!

Hillary

I guess this is all I want to say right now...

AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I miss you my blog!!! I love you! I am going to write again! I will!

Kyra and Niko give this idea a thumbs up. I'd better update before Kyra graduates from High School.

Dear Gerah: Believing in the tooth fairy

Thought I'd share this email from a friend that I received this morning. It goes:

Hey G,  

I'm just sitting here at the computer again, ruminating, and waiting for something important to happen, like a ball game...  So I thought I'd start my first draft of a letter to the editor or somebody else real important:

Hey,  I'm not a Democrat or a Republican, but I was sitting here wondering if we ever conducted a war before that we asked no one to pay for except our grand children...  Yes, maam, put it on the tab...  I'd like to believe that in 10 years, when we may leave, the Sunnis, Shia, and Kurds are going to shake hands, put down their guns, and evenly split the riches, but I also believed in the tooth fairy.  And will we be known as the great founder of democracy, not an occupying power (who didn't get the lights turned on soon enough)... ???  Anyway, as someone said, How many times must a man look up before he can see the sky, and how many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died?

And for some reason this email hit me just right this morning and I too, began to ruminate. So I replied:

Dear Top Secret Friend who sends me thoughtful emails,

Thanks for your letter to the editor Gerah - I feel quite privileged to be the recipient of your very real concerns. My advice: Go ahead and send it in to the local newspapers. Most the good ol' boys around here won't care, or even read it; hell, how many of them even read? Remember, you are not alone, there are many out there who are like us, and feel EXACTLY THE SAME WAY YOU AND I DO. And, those who read this short thought, question, and quote of yours in the paper will think about what you have said.

Key word here: THINK. We need more of this "thinking" business to go on...

... and when they think about what you have written, like I have, they will realize that all we can do is raise our children and grandchildren to be thinkers like us. And for our children to teach others to think, as you are doing with me right now. Herein lies the reason I take parenting way too damn seriously. I take it seriously because I know that us thinker-types are in the minority, and our children are in for a tough road. On top of everything else, we didn't circumcise Niko - and poor Kyra's destined to at least 6 feet tall and I'm sure you've read my blog posts or heard my rantings as growing up as a ginormous female. It just ain't easy. These kids have to be tough. Remember Johnny Cash's A Boy Named Sue?

Yeah. It's kind of like that.

Gerah

Back to Basics: BEATING A DEAD HORSE

I am happy to report that, since shortly after my previous post regarding an icky withdrawl from Cymbalta that I wrote with teary eyes and a troubled mind, the fog seems to have lifted. I didn't want to get ahead of myself and report to YOU, internet, that everything is dandy too early...

But it's been about a week and a half since I wrote that - and for the last week, I feel good! I feel fine! No more brain zaps or crying jags or creepy anxiety!!! I even did the "10,000 Maniacs Litmus Test" - I stood in my kitchen, turned on the 10,000 Maniacs MTV Unplugged Album, started doing the dishes and....

...well, I won't lie. I still got a little verklempt. But I didn't sob. And, come ON - what post-child bearing woman (or gay man?) doesn't get a bit verklempt when Natalie Merchant belts it out???

But anyway. Life is moving along and it feels good. Let's cross our fingers, shall we?

And now for the dead horse: I am going to attempt to touch on the topic that got me writing this blog in the first place and that I just can't shake. There is something within me that has such a damn hard time leaving my little ones when I work. Such a hard time. It eats at me.

I trust my daycare provider completely. I really love her. If my children aren't with her, they are with my mother a day and a half per week. I even feel guilty sending them off with their grandma.

I just feel - these are MY BABIES. Mine. Mine mine mine. (Not even so much my husband's. He does so much for them, sure, but, he didn't grow them and nurse them and do all those things that we mothers know that we mothers do!) I think: How dare I pass them to someone else during these years that pass so quickly? I'll never get these years back.

I know we all have to make choices, and we have to do what we have to do. I guess I might take mothering too seriously, maybe. I know I can be a bit neurotic about this. But is there anything MORE important than caring with all your heart and spending your time molding and nurturing the little humans that you created?

Is there?

The Withdrawl

I am currently on day 8 of my attempt to walk away from anti-depressant medication (Cymbalta, to be specific). (Yes, I'm doing this with the guidance of my doctor, and yes, I weaned off before I stopped medication completely.)

The good news is, I am doing this, because over the last few months life has been fabulous, and I have felt strong, happy, and really, really good. And, as I've said in previous posts - I would rather not be on drugs. I'm more of a tree huggin' hippie organic herbal yoga deep breath natural  childbirth walk in the woods type of person, if you catch my drift. Basically, I'd like to to do everything I can to try to live happily without prescribed medication. It's just me. It's just what I want for myself.

The bad news is, that with drawls from Cymbalta are NOT PRETTY. Quite ugly. I feel like am in a very, very dark place right now. (And so of course instead of writing about it in my private journal on my bedstand, I have to tell the whole world and internet and god about it, as any proper blogger and modern mother would!)

I am so irritable... my poor children - my patience is non-existent. I am moody, sad, weepy, and anxious. Have you ever felt that you needed to laugh hysterically and cry like you've never cried before at the same time? That's how I feel. A bit mad, as in mad-hatter mad.

And then there's the BRAIN ZAPS. Seriously. Over the last week, I feel as though my brain has little seizures or something, that zap my whole body. My lips go numb and tingle. I feel like I'm floating around instead of walking. It's just strange.

I'm also having very violent dreams. And sexy ones! (Okay, Borat.) (Yes, the sex drive is returning. My husband is thrilled. I think his skin is glowing. Watch out good looking men walking past me on the sidewalk, I may attack.) The violent dreams have been strange: One night I dreamt of tornadoes and water spouts and natural disaster. The next night I dreamt a close friend's teenage son looked us straight in the eye and then shot himself in the head in front of me and her. And last night, I dreamt that we were being invaded by a military presence, and I was trying to run and hide and get away from them... Very Anne Frank and Gestapo-ish. Very creepy.

I am telling you this because, for one, I need to write about it, just to talk. Secondly, is there anyone else out there who has gone through this that can support me here or share their experience(s) with weaning off anti-depressants/ Cymbalta?

I really hope to get through this. I have so many wonderful stories to share!!! I want to write again! My little Niko is practically a MAN, baby and I haven't even blogged about his baby years!!! I looked at him the other day in his car seat and he is not even much of a toddler! He's a kid. A tall one!

(Oh, great, here comes one of those happy/weepy moments. Give me a moment.)

Moment.

Another moment.

Okay, it's passed.

So please, share your stories, I need you right now, my internet friends. It's springtime, and everything is beautiful! Life is way too good to feel so bad.

My Ooomph

I'm beginning to wonder if I've lost my writing "Ooomph". It seems when I began this blog, the stories and topics just flowed and poured out easily - I'd get an idea and immediately stop what I was doing and just sit down and write. That just never happens to me much anymore.

It's not like the subject of my writings doesn't present itself anymore - when I change my 22 month old's diaper he flops around and squeals like some sort of combination of what I have experienced when taking a hook out of a blue gill's mouth and trying to get my cat to swallow a pill... I am still a working mother and have frustrations and passions and precious moments where I look into my darling childrens' eyes and wish I could freeze that moment in time for all eternity. I certainly have hundreds of experiences daily that could be turned into hundreds of stories - but yet, my blog writing seems to have shriveled up and died.

Maybe it's because I've found other creative outlets in my career and my community work and I'm putting my Ooomph energy toward those projects. Maybe it has something to do with the scary bouts of depression and panic I experienced shortly after Niko was born - part of me feels like that experience changed me forever and I'll never be quite the same old Gerah that I was.

Who knows. I will say that I refuse to "quit" this blog anytime soon. There are too many poop stories and crazy mommy rants that I have in me still waiting to come out.

Ah, yes. Niko has found the cookies and has covered his face with chocolate and has probably shoved a few of the cookies in the DVD player. I must go be the evil mother I am and pry the goodies from his chubby little sticky fingers.

Ooochie Goochie Goo, Spring has arrived!

The new business is keeping me busy, folks. This is good, yes? Not good for the blog, but good for my family's checking account balance...

Spring is here! Also good, no? I love the new season so much, I've been catching myself talking in a baby voice to crocuses and other sprouting greenery in my perennial garden.

"Hi there little purple flowers! Hi there! I love you! Welcome to the world little friends!!!" I say to the plants in a high pitched voice as if they were newborn babies, as my children look at me and then at each other with an expression like, "Wow! This is acceptable? This way of speaking to greenery? I never knew! Cool!"

Little do they know they were born to a whack-job and they will most likely be teased at school because of it.

I'm just preparing them for the worst, that's all. Check out the new Flickr photos over here to the right. The kidlets are getting all gosh darn grown up. (Sniff, sniff.)

Crow's Feet Discovered

Guess WHAT!?

I'm officially old! My thirtieth birthday was Saturday. I attended a party at the home of one lovely and one handsome friend(s), and we drank Sangria and ate lots of yummy appetizers. I am quite sure I woke up the morning of my birthday, and new wrinkles appeared near my eyes. And ya know what? I don't really care. What can you do, eh?

In other news, my new business is rolling! Things are happening! No riches quite yet, but I'm not going to give up on dreaming.

On another topic, the children and I (and then my dad, and then my sister visiting from Chicago and her new boyfriend) were recently were cursed with the gastrointestinal flu. I'm going to assume you know what I mean when I say "gastrointestinal". Let me just say that I was so happy to have lost four pounds in one day!!! (Yes, I gained it back in another day or two.) I recall going down the highway, and my husband, next to me in the driver's seat, turned to me and said, "I've been puked on more times this week than I have in my whole life," and I knew it was no exaggeration on his part. Little did he know he was about to be puked on again twice later that day.

Deep thought: If teens knew how gross, slimy, dirty, and stinky having children would be, I think they'd use a condom more often and give in to unprotected sex less. Somebody should hire me to put together a marketing campaign for abstinence or avoiding unwanted pregnancy.

My campaign would include multiple billboards with poop and vomit on them, I'll tell you that much.

Speaking of stinky little mess-makers, my children are great. Little delights, they are. I am happy to announce a development I've been patiently waiting for since I became a parent:

Child Slave Labor and/or Child Housekeeping!!!

I used to always wish my polydactyl cat, Elliott, would learn how to do the dishes or pick up a broom, but he just never seemed to have any interest in these tasks, so I gave up on him years ago. But, now, I'm happy to report that both children now seem to enjoy using the vacuum and cleaning glass surfaces! Kyra's got a fondness for toilet bowl cleaning, as well. That's my girl. Aren't they sweet? (They have a fresh breeze/sometimes orange scent too!)

An Epiphany

As far back as I can remember, I've always had a thing for older men - but it has puzzled me as to why. I've never understood.

But, yesterday, my husband Jeremy, called me to the computer. He sat in the computer chair, and I stood behind him as we watched together, and after a few moments, he squirmed in pain - and I realized I was gripping his shoulder with a tightening clench that could draw blood. I was so excited I wanted to yelp, and yet, I felt weak in the knees.

After all of these years, I now realize why:

Dr. Jones.

Oh, Doctor Jones! (Dabbing my brow with a hankie).

Indiana!!!