So I was on the radio tonight. And during those 30 seconds, I swear I said, “Fantastic” no fewer than 10 times. “You got the right answer!” “Fantastic!” “You get a free travel mug!” “Fantastic!” “You’re an idiot!” “FANTASTIC! But dude, I’m on the radio – and that’s like – FANTASTIC!”
Seriously.
Nothing incredibly exciting – I was trapped in traffic trying to rescue Jay from the nightmare that was post-World-Series-parade Boston – and listening to Country 102.5 (I’ll be damned if I can ever remember the call letters). The question for the super-duper prize? 1/3 of all people lie to their parents about this very important thing.
I assumed most of the callers were going to go for “their sex lives”, so I went the finances route. After three times of getting through and “getting closer!”, I finally nabbed it.
Apparently, a sad third of us lie to our folks about our jobs.
So he recorded our little conversation and the part where he tells me I get a fabulous 102.5 travel mug and that the fine folks at Dunkin Donuts were going to throw in a gift card – and then played it back a little bit later. It was funny to hear. I’m such a dork.
But whatever! I was on the radio – and I got free Dunkies to boot! FANTASTIC!

Hey New Englanders -
Jay and I decided that we need to take a little family vacation. Nothing fancy, just someplace not here, and someplace obviously kid-friendly. (I found the Wildflower Inn, which looks PERFECT, but sadly, is booked until forever. Maybe next year.)
It doesn’t necessarily need to be a b&b that has it all, but I’d love recommendations of towns to visit with toddler things to do. Places to walk/easy hikes, good family-friendly restaurants, maybe a good playland or theme village or something for Sammy, etc.
Western MA, southern VT, Connecticut, RI, southern ME, up to mid-central NH…
Any suggestions?

I have a confession.
I’ve been listening to country music.
A few weeks back, I was driving home and I was in a bit of a rough place, emotionally. I was tired of Matchbox Twenty and Maroon 5 repeats, so I flipped on the local country station – and it all just made sense. There was something comforting in it all, and I haven’t switched back.
Now mind you, I’m a huge folk music fan, and my folk music choices tend to lean heavily on the country side anyway. And I grew up listening to the likes of Kathy Mattea, George Strait, Clint Black and early Garth Brooks and Tricia Yearwood (nevermind the classics like Willie Nelson that my dad used to play) – so country music? Not really a huge stretch – but it feels like going back home, if that makes any sense. Listening to the Dixie Chicks have made me happy for years, so it was just a matter of time.
I’m in love with anything Kenny Chesney (I’m waiting to get sick of “Don’t Blink” – link to video) and as surprised as I am to say this – Carrie Underwood. And while Jay’s at the Pats game and Sammy’s sleeping, I’m downloading song after song off iTunes – favorites from my high school days like Travis Tritt’s “Anymore” (seriously, slit the wrists now) and Collin Raye’s “Love, Me” (why I listen to it over and over when it makes me cry I have no idea). And my new favorite play it over and over and over songs? “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nichols (reminds me of a time pre-baby), and Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” (link to video – oh man, the seething wonderfulness of it all!).
Luckily, Jay seems to tolerate the sudden change in my playlists lately. I mean, how can you not totally rock out to a song like “Don’t Rock the Jukebox”?

Dear you,
Send reinforcements.
Please.
And margaritas.
Lots of them.
Love,
Me

“Seriously, Miss – instead of testing on animals, why don’t we test on people on death row?”
Oh, the risks of following up the animal testing unit with one on the death penalty – without fail, each time I teach this class, at least two students come to this conclusion.
It’s always interesting to follow up the “test on death row inmates” argument with a comment about how they are then saying that the inmates lives are worth less than animal lives. Half the room jumps up and starts shouting about how they’re not even worth being called animals and the other half starts screaming about how they are humans no matter what. It’s fascinating to watch, especially when I have some insight into which students have served time, have family in jail or who have a particularly violent past. They’re all fantastic in the classroom, but I know talking about our justice system hits home for a lot of them, whether they talk about it or not.
Though I particularly love how so many of them said that they were completely horrified by the way animals were treated and that they shouldn’t be tested on for cosmetic purposes – and then not a single one of them raised their hands when I asked them if they would be willing to stand behind that by switching to cruelty-free products. One girl even said, “Miss, my hair will frizz if I don’t use my gel.”
Clearly my priorities are the ones out of whack.
Sigh.
Someone had asked me what my students had to say about the Heinz dilemma. Most believed that the druggist has every right to charge whatever he wants, but that he’s morally wrong for charging what he did. They also believe that Heinz should steal the drug (partially simply because the druggist was so wrong and should be taught a lesson, and partially because it’s the “right” thing to do for his wife, even though stealing is wrong) – and surprisingly, many of them said he should still steal it even if he doesn’t love his wife because he took an “in sickness and health” vow. They are fascinating little creatures.
Heh. Have I mentioned how much I love teaching Ethics?

Another little boy gone. Post-Fontan, at one of the best hospitals in the country.
I knew it was coming. I just didn’t expect it this morning. But there it was when I opened my bloglines, and I couldn’t let her blog just sit there with a little bold (1) next to it and not know. Everything in me hoped so much that it was a miracle post, a turnaround, even something small, something positive. But it wasn’t.
He never even made it home. They were going to go home with him and let him go while surrounded by everyone who loved him.
I don’t know that I can go into work right now. I just want to go in and curl up behind Sammy in his bed and spend every next moment I can just loving him as much as I possibly can. Responsibility is tugging at me, reminding me that I have a job to do, that life goes on, but the rest of me knows that Sammy is our world now, and sometimes that needs to take precedence. I want to spend the morning taking him to the park and playing cars on the porch with him and letting him rest on my lap while he drinks his milk and watches Dora. I don’t want to regret anything.
I’m scared.
I don’t know.
The not knowing is the worst.

Time in New England took me away: Fabulous weekend, filled with lots of visits with friends, adorably wonderful kids, yummy food, easy conversation, lots of laughing – and of course, pumpkin picking. We missed a few friends, but we’ll see them all soon enough, I’m sure. With a few illnesses and cancellations, the 15 toddlers I was envisioning ended up being a completely manageable 7, and since our friends really subscribe to the “it takes a village” ideology, there was always someone watching any or all of the kids. Sammy simply loved being surrounded with so many of his friends at once – he kept listing them all as he fell asleep that night. It was definitely a merging of several different worlds, and it was so fantastic to walk in and see one of my new friends holding our dear friends’ son, Jack.
I love how our world continues to expand, yet still seems so cozy and full.
Just aim beyond the clouds: Still potty training. I don’t know that I’d call it training as much as it’s really just me remembering to put him on the potty or Sammy asking me to go. There’s nothing definitive or regular about it – if it happens, great, if not, no big deal. I think I’ll take a few afternoons this week to let him run around sans-diaper and see how things go.
Old lovers that meet like before: I wish everyone would get over this whole Dumbledore thing already. It’s just another part of a well-crafted, multi-faceted character. DD seems even more human to me now, more humble in a way – a bit of an insight into understanding the depth of the pain of his love and loss. I want to go back now and reread everything – or at least DH – with this latest revelation in mind.
If you only knew what I’m going through: We’ve already brought in some fantastic handmade quilts, courtesy of Binky Patrol, and we still have a wonderful pile of blankets to donate to Children’s Hospital Boston in the coming months. If you’d like to donate a blanket or quilt of any fabric or size, in new condition, to share with the children who are stuck in the hospital for the holidays, let me know. I know the families appreciate the thought so much.
You can have the scrabble game: Would it seem weird if I posted on freecycle that I wanted my basement and office closet cleared, and that people should simply make an appointment to come take what they want?
Yes, the bold sections are all Barry Manilow lyrics, I admit it. I can’t get the first out of my head… time in New England took me away… to long, rocky beaches, and you by the bay… Though I prefer the Roger Whittaker version, as if anyone actually knows who he is!

I was taking Sammy up to change him, since he smelled a tad on the poopy side. When we got to the top of the steps, he started screaming that he wanted to go pee pee on the potty. In hindsight, this would have been the point where I told him that he could go pee pee later on and that we needed to change his poopy diaper first. But no, in my head I didn’t register that particular poopy smell and figured I’d just dump the contents of his diaper into the toilet before he sat down. After all, we’re potty training, right? We’ve got to encourage the potty, right?
So there we are, he’s excited to get up on the potty, stepping out of his pants, and I’ve got his diaper half-off before I realize it – yellow liquid poop. All over every little part of his diaper covered body. Foul yellow liquid poop that was now getting all over everything else as he squirmed all over the place, trying to worm his way out of the very diaper I was trying to velcro back on. Yellow liquid poop on my hands, on his jeans, down his legs – smeared all over everything. He wanted up on the potty, I wanted up on his diaper. Have you tried battling with a toddler recently?
And forget about getting him up onto the changing table – that would have involved even more poop all over me. I’m screaming, “Gross! Gross!” and he’s CRACKING up and screaming it back to me – “Gro! Gro!”. I’m trying to carry him under his arms at my arm’s length while trying to keep his pants up and his diaper from falling off while I race down the hall back to his room. Sure enough, by the time this was all over, my jeans, his carpet, his jeans, his shirt, his legs, all the wipes, two diapers – everything was covered in poop.
And through it all, he just kept laughing so hard he was practically gasping for air, all while shouting, “Gro! Gro!”
It was kinda funny, in a really gross kind of way. Yuck.

I had one of those afternoons where only bacon, fried in butter, tossed with pasta for dinner will do.
Sure, there was broccoli in there too, but I fed it to Sammy instead.
And of course, there was wine involved – with my dinner, not Sammy’s – and unfortunately, there just wasn’t enough.
Emotional eater? What’s that?

I just did the math, and it is pretty darn possible that we will have 15 children under the age of 4 running around our house this weekend for some post-pumpkin picking fun.
Fifteen. Fifteen!
FIFTEEN!
And that’s not including the kids over 4!
How the hell are we going to keep track of them all? Will they all fit in Sammy’s little house, clowns-in-the-car style? Would it be considered abuse if we tried? Will we find one perched atop the bookcase, throwing Little People into the punch? Will one make off with our phone and dial Denmark before we realize he’s missing? What if they get into the crayons I so cleverly hid from them and decide to “redecorate” the porch before we catch them? What if they get into a fight over a toy and it turns into a toddler brawl?
WHAT IF THEY SNEAK OFF WITH THE BEER TO PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE??!?!?!?
We’re going to need that beer to keep our sanity, dammit!