Hormones and whatnot

Something I'd want all my female friends of child-bearing years to know: Weaning a child can cause post-partum depression-esque symptoms. Hormones are crazy things, my friends. I had Henry almost weaned right before my trip to Denver, and while I was there I gradually stopped pumping because the plan was to not resume nursing when I got home. My last night in Denver, a huge panic attack hit. Yowzah. I've had them before in times of high stress, and traveling does tend to make me more susceptible (lack of sleep from difficulty adjusting to a new time zone, not eating right, worrying about the kids while I'm away, etc.) so I thought I was just having a rough time being away for so long.

Then I got home and kept having anxiety attacks almost every morning thereafter. Finally, I thought, Wait, the only thing different now from before I started having these attacks is that I'm not nursing Henry. I did some online research and found anecdotal evidence from other women who experienced increased anxiety and even PPD-like symptoms after weaning. Come to think of it, I had panic attacks after weaning Padraic, too, but I had ascribed them to my trip to San Francisco that I took right after weaning him. I'm sure both things played a part.

I don't see my OBGYN until October for my annual exam so I've made my own decision on treatment for the time being: I've resumed nursing Henry once a day (first thing in the morning), and it has worked wonders. The anxiety disappeared like magic. I guess I have a sensitive system and it's out of whack from close to 4years w/o having a period. When I look back, I had probably a dozen periods between weaning Padraic and conceiving Henry, and I still haven't had one since then. My body needs some serious readjusting time, but for now I am happy to nurse the little booger just enough to keep my sanity in check. Dr. S will help me sort out the long-range plan next month.

See, there are all sorts of weird things the female body is capable of. Know you probably all know more about my inner workings than you wanted to. Just wait until I get my kidney study done as a result of discovering my bicornuate uterus early in pregnancy #2! LOL!

Close call

Since we were at Gertstock the weekend of Ken's birthday (he's 31, btw...so ha!), we celebrated here at home last night. I made lemon pepper tilapia with my homemade mac & cheese. And no, we did not have a veggie with it. This was a celebration. ;) The mac & cheese was a huge gift to both of us because I have not made it since January, which was when we discovered Henry's lactose intolerance. I was able to avoid a lot of dairy products while I kept nursing him, but this mac & cheese is not something I could've stared at without eating. Sorry, Henry. My willpower only goes so far.

Anyway, after dinner we decided that since I had been too busy to make a b'day cake, I would take us all out for ice cream. We packed Henry a Lactaid since he can't have ice cream, and we all got in the car for the drive to Dairy Queen in the next town north of us. We were less than a mile from DQ when we had to go around a sharp left-hand curve, and a car shot out in front of us, cutting across our lane of travel without stopping. I was absolutely sure we were going to collide, and in that split second before the impact I was expecting, I braced myself and started praying for the boys to be OK. I pictured us all being loaded into ambulances and my car (a lesser consideration, but it's only 5-6 payments away from being paid off) being towed off to a junkyard.

Thankfully, we did not collide. Somehow Ken slammed the brakes to the floor, and the woman cutting across our bow slammed on hers, and we stopped what must've been less than an inch away, given how close she and her passengers were to us when all was said and done. I thought the guy in her passenger seat was going to start mouthing off at Ken, but instead, he was waving his arms and mouthing, "Sorry, man." We all paused for a quick breath, and then we drove around them and continued on our way as I turned around to see how the boys were doing. They hadn't even noticed what had happened, thank God.

After that close encounter, we could've used a beer more than an ice cream, but we pulled into DQ and enjoyed what they had to offer anyway. And we took another way home to avoid that horrible intersection, which just asks for trouble. I'm so thankful my little family is whole and well. The alternative doesn't even bear thinking about.

Getting it together

Friends, there was a time that I was a very organized person. My room was not necessarily clean, but I never forgot birthdays or anniversaries, and I always could put my hands on items that I needed. Then I got married, bought a house, got some dogs, and had kids. Now my friends and family are lucky if I get my head out of my butt often enough to look around and notice there is a world out there. I'm making small strides to reorganize my life (or, I should say, our lives), and I hope they lead to bigger steps. These may not seem profound, but they are important to me.

For starters, about 5 months ago I joined the Women in Red Racers . No, it's not a group of women wearing red tennis shoes (as I envisioned when first hearing about them). It's an offshoot of the Women in Red (http://moneycentral.msn.com/community/message/default.aspx) on MSN.com, which is a group of ladies talking about their debts, their savings, the financial state of their households and the world. The Women in Red Racers have chosen to list their debts for all to see and are racing those debts from here into oblivion. If that sounds competitive, it's not. Each woman is merely racing against herself to try to become debt free. It's a nice way to be accountable to yourself and your financial mistakes, all the while remaining anonymous if you so choose.

I do choose to remain anonymous and won't tell you my WIRR screen name, but I do urge you to join if the situation suits you. In 5mos I've cleared out 23% of my debt, and it is a good, good feeling. Knowing that I'm going to be reporting monthly on my debt paydown has made me much more aware of where every dollar is going. DH and I have perpetually been about 2yrs from financial solvency, and finally I think we'll actually get there. I can't wait to see what it feels like.

Other organizational parts of my life involve getting rid of all this baby stuff that the boys will no longer use. It's a bittersweet process--I cried a few months ago when sorting out the 0-6mo clothes to give to a coworker whose daughter was going to bring them to an orphanage in Haiti--but it has to be done. The bigger gear is headed soon for my ILs' house, where it will sit in anticipation of my forthcoming niece or nephew coming to visit. The clothes are going to various places. Some will go to my neighbors' nephew who recently had a little boy join the family, and the rest will go to a local church's consignment sale. Proceeds of which will go toward purchasing gently used play clothes for the boys from the same sale. Reduce, reuse, recycle.

The harder part will be organizer the grownup stuff here in the house. I know I should just do one box at a time. I will. Some day. But first the baby stuff, and then I'll tackle the rest. I'm motivated by the urge to some day see the corners of my house. I know they're there. Somewhere.

Political leanings

With the Democratic National Convention over now, and with the United States (and anyone else in the world who gives a crap) poised for John McCain's announcement today of his running mate, not even I can avoid thinking about the political scene. Even with my insular life of butt wiping, snot aspirating, and food-spill cleaning.

Let me get the big question and answer out of the way early:

Who will I be voting for in November? Obama.

I sighed with audible relief back when he won the primaries and Hillary got bumped out of the running. While I'd love to see a woman as POTUS before long, I find her abrasive, and I just don't want to see her and her hubby's familiar faces back at the head of the power pack in Washington. I know it's hugely judgmental of me, but when it comes to issues of marital fidelity I see things in black and white. You're either an honorable person or you're a cheating bastard. Bill is the latter. And Hillary could've kicked him to the curb, but I think she puts her own political aspirations before that sort of consideration. That just doesn't sit well with me.

Anyway, Obama may yet prove himself to be a slick career politician like so many of the other big players are, but I'll willingly suspend my disbelief for now and consider him the real down-to-earth person he's coming across as. His having grown up w/o everything little thing his heart desired being handed to him on a platter speaks volumes to me. I think we're pretty soft as a nation now, and I see it all the time in the microcosm of life around me--people spoiling their kids rotten, thereby raising a person who thinks they are entitled to successes without the work that is necessary to earn them. Hey, it'd be great if life worked that way, but it doesn't.

It's never an easy decision for me when there's a presidential election because I'm a die-hard Independent. So with each election season, I have to start from scratch. I specifically want to leave party loyalty out of the mix, and that's why I choose to remain an Independent. During the last presidential election, a now-former coworker of mine remarked that I should register with one of the big parties so I could vote in the primaries because, as she put it, not doing so was "a waste." Well, it'd be great if I could vote in the primaries and keep my Independent status at the same time. I am not proud of, nor in agreement with, the politics of either the Democratic or the Republican party, so why should I choose one of them to be associated directly with? I reminded her that it's my choice and my right to remain separate from either of those parties, and that's what I plan to do for the foreseeable future.

Ah, vacation

Why can't vacation last forever? Oh, right. That's called retirement. ;)

We had a fantastic time on our trip to Gertstock. I will have to upload pictures at some point, but Ken has the camera and won't be home until later. Lake George is beautiful, and the weather couldn't have been better. OK, well, it was a little hot in the midafternoon, but then it started to cool down, and it was downright lovely.

We are blessed with two boys who do very well in the car. Up to Albany is only about 5hrs of road time, and they slept most of the way. We stopped at a McD's (couldn't find anything else that the boys would eat) halfway up, and then we hit the road and they fell back asleep until close to the end. I learned the trick of turning around and putting Cheerios onto Henry's car seat next to his left leg, and he could reach them and eat them at will. This helped him get over the hunger hump that he hit during the last 20mins of the ride to my uncle's house.

My parents had driven up the day before and were there to greet us. Given that I've been stressed to the hilt lately, it was such a relief to get out of the car and have my mom and dad ready and willing to take over caring not only for the boys but also for me and Ken. Ahhhhhh. Sometimes I honestly wish I could be a child again for just a little while to get that feeling of being completely cared for without having any responsibilities. Wouldn't that be nice?

The next day was the big event: Gertstock. We left the house around 10am to get up to Lake George, which is a little over an hour north of my uncle's Albany-area home. Nana wasn't there yet when we arrived, but Aunts Mary and Kate had been sitting at the pavilion since 7am to reserve it for the Triller family. Other picnickers looked on in envy, but the pavilion was already decorated with streamers and table clothes so we definitely had dibs.

People started to trickle in as the day worn on, and all in all we had 44 people there. The only one of my dad's 11 siblings who couldn't make it was Uncle Kevin. He is a NY state trooper, and he'd been tapped to help with security at the state fair in Syracuse. So he had to miss out. His kids were there, though, and his daughter Trisha and her hubby brought their 8mo daughter, Ariah, who I got to hold. Such a cutie. And Trisha's brother John was there with his wife, Rhonda. They are expecting triplets around New Year's. She's 15wks along and has the belly I had when I was 5mos pg with Padraic. I wish her the easiest pg possible when you're carrying three babies at once. In about a month we should all hear how many boys and girls are in there.

Padraic got to do his first ever ride on a power boat with Uncle Darren, Daddy, 3 of Darren's 4 girls, my cousin John, and Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob took Padraic out on the inner tube behind the boat when they had anchored up near one of the islands (this was after pulling up somewhere to get ice cream sandwiches) , and he apparently had a blast. So much so that when Uncle Bob and Aunt Maureen were leaving at the end of the day, Padraic dove into his arms, kissed the side of his face, and then snuggled into his cheek. I think Uncle Bob was a bit surprised by all this affection, but Aunt Marie got a good picture that I can't wait to see.

Of course, the main event was celebrating Nana's 81st birthday. The actual day isn't until mid-Sept, but the whole family is used to getting together at the end of August for Pop-pop's b'day, and now that he's gone, we just can't seem to shake the habit. Getting another year of having Nana around, even if I don't get to see her very often, is priceless. She got to play with Padraic and hold Henry, and I'll cherish those memories forever.

Now we're back home, back to the old grind of work and day care dropoffs/pickups, but it was a nice break from our routine. Next year we're planning to make a weeklong trip of it to get to spend more time enjoying family and the beautiful setting of Lake George.

Gertstock, here we come!

The morning I've been waiting for during the past several months is now here: We're leaving for Gertstock! What, you may ask, is that? It's our annual family reunion on my dad's side. It used to be a b'day party for my grandfather, but he passed away in July 2006, and one of my uncles renamed it to celebrate my grandmother, Gertrude.

While we miss Pop-pop incredibly much, it is only fitting to celebrate a woman who birthed and raised 12 children with him. Here are their names in order from oldest to youngest, which I learned from my aunt Kris when I was in middle school: Brian (my dad), Kevin, Patricia, Mary, Paul, David, Mark, Kathy, Beth, Maureen, Darren, Kris. Say that 10 times fast. :)

I love being from a big family, and it's neat seeing my dad's siblings interact at this get-together ever year, which in some cases is the only time certain members of the family see each other. There is such camaraderie that I can only imagine what fun they all had as kids, that is, when they weren't fighting like siblings so often do.

Also in celebration of family, I've made myself a promise this very morning: I am going to call my dr (maybe even from my cell phone while we're on the road this morning) and make an appt to talk to her about my recurring anxiety attacks. I can't help but think that they have a hormonal basis since they came surging into my life right at the time I weaned Henry. I have a feeling my hormones are all out of whack and might need some gentle nudging to get them to behave. Whatever the cause(s), physical or emotional--not that a working mom has any stress, oh no--it's time to work them out so I can be the best wife and mommy I can be. Family, yeah, that's the core of it all. In the midst of the worst days I can look at the two boys Ken and I somehow brought into this world and feel like there is a center to my chaotic universe.

Well, I have some packing to finish, and I should take advantage of the fact that everyone else is still asleep. Henry's been sleeping through the night more and more lately, but he usually wakes up screaming in hunger around 5am and so far he's still snoozing soundly. I've even already had a chance to shower and shave my legs! What luxury!

Have a great weekend, and blogging should resume Tuesday-ish once we're back.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G...

I should be working on my freelance project, but Henry is asleep and Padraic is next-door with Daddy, playing baseball with friends. Too tempting to opt for a little "me" time.

Strange goings on at day care lately. Yesterday Padraic was suddenly sent home with a packet of homework. He's THREE! The homework consisted of practicing writing the numbers 1-10 and then counting groups of objects and circling the correct number from three choices offered below the picture. What really steamed me was the note at the top of the page that said, "Needs help." Um, yeah. At this age kids should be learning to hold a writing implement correctly, not writing all their numbers. He was actually pretty good at the counting thing, but he just wasn't interested in it. Funny thing was, my 3yo kid wanted to play instead of count. No kidding.

I talked to the assistant director this morning to find out what the deal was with the sudden burst of super academia for preschoolers, and she said not to worry: The new teacher in Padraic's class is just trying to find a baseline for what the kids in the class can/cannot do so she can use that to inform the new curriculum that starts up Aug 29. I felt much better after that conversation.

Then I picked Padraic up from day care this afternoon and found a new packet of homework. This one requiring him to practice writing his name and the full alphabet. The note at the top made me see red: "Didn't want to Do it! [Last two words underlined] Wanted him to write his name. He refused. Did first one FOR HIM! [Last two words underlined twice and in all caps.]"

Now I'm steamed again. You can't just take a child who's at a scribbling stage and ask him to practice writing his name. What ever happened to breaking down a large task into baby steps? Not to mention choosing age-appropriate tasks for your students. I guess I'll be having another chat with the assistant director on Monday. Mommy is mad! I'm worried that trying to force inappropriate skills work onto Padraic will make him more resistant to learning that he would otherwise be, and I'm not gonna let that happen.

In better news, Henry is getting a lot more stable on his feet. I caught him trying to stand independently today, which was neat. He just about had it, but he wobbled and plopped down on his butt. Still, I'm guessing within about 6 weeks we'll have a full-fledged toddler on our hands.

I'm also loving how he points to everything, or if he's holding something he shows it to you, and says "See it!" Of course, it sounds like "seeeeeeeeet!" but I know what he means.

OK, back to the freelance project. Soon the big boys will be coming home, and then I'll wish I'd accomplished more.

Good night, sweetheart

Henry slept through the night last night! And I would've gotten a full night's sleep for the first time since about month 2 of my pregnancy with him, except around 4am the dogs woke up to go out and pee, and when Ken let them out he crashed on the sofa and didn't hear them barking to be let in. So I had to get up and go downstairs, let them in, and wake him up so he could come back to bed and not break his neck sleeping on the sofa. But dogs aside, it gives me great hope that Henry finally made it through the night w/o needing help getting back to sleep. Padraic did a similar thing--started STTN when he was done nursing shortly after I returned from a business trip. I am trying not to go over the moon with joy quite yet since anyone who's been at the mercy of a baby knows that life is all about surprises, but maybe, just maybe I can start getting, oh, 5 solid hours of sleep a night. Just imagine!

I'm starting to think about this weekend...Saturday we're having dinner at the IL's house, and Sunday we head to the Sassafras River to hang out with our neighbors at their shore house. Gotta think of some good appetizer/snacky type ideas for Sunday. Something already prepared that we can just eat w/o me having to do any work would be perfect. I'll have to browse the Web a little over lunch tomorrow and gather some ideas.

Tons of work-related things got accomplished today, and I even got some household stuff done this evening, but nothing too exciting to report. Still yearning for a vacation and really looking forward to Gertstock weekend.

Well, off to get ready for bed!

Just another manic...Tuesday?

Coming back from a work-related trip is always interesting, even if I check my email every single day during the trip to keep the numbers from getting out of hand. No matter how hard I try, I can't avoid having an avalanche of work when I get back since (1) the trip itself generates a lot of new work and (2) it keeps me from really being up-to-date on what's going on in the office. Hey, at least the days go by quickly until I'm relatively back on track.

While I hate the travel part of my job, I do get jazzed by having new leads for books I might get to sign, and this trip certainly generated a bunch of 'em. I should have paperwork flying around my cubicle in no time once I follow up with everyone I talked to at the meeting plus all the people I didn't meet but had suggested to me as future authors.

I gave in on the way home tonight and decided to buy fast food for dinner, which is something I almost never, ever do. But I justified it to myself thusly: (1) Work was crazy and I could use a little break this evening; (2) I got paid today; (3) Last week my parents fed Ken and the boys and I lived off my corporate AMEX so funds are a little higher than usual, and (4) it was, um, fast, and I had other stuff to do after dinner. So we ate our various toxic-but-yummy items from Wendy's, and then Padraic joined me at the store for real groceries. I just hadn't had the energy over the weekend to slog through that errand, but now it's done again until roughly Sunday/Monday. Padraic had a blast riding in the offensively loud and rumbly fire truck cart, and I ran into only a few store displays with that piece of junk. Then he wanted to go to the dollar store next door to the grocery store (he knows there are toys there), but I lured him home with the promise of ice cream. So you can see it was a health-food day all around.

Well, the boys are in bed and Ken's butt has grown to his daddy chair downstairs so I am off to bed. Tomorrow brings all the joys of today, but with the added fun of the freelance project I just took on that's due next Thursday.

I fall to pieces

There's a song for everything.... So here I am, a 32-year-old wife and mother of two little boys, guardian to two beagles, full-time working woman, etc. I wish I could say I have it all, but my neck and back are killing me from maneuvering Henry around, the boys wouldn't fall asleep until after 10 tonight, I'm swamped at work and at home, and somehow I have to get our entire family ready for our 3-night trip to my family reunion. We leave Aug 22, and things just keep getting added to the schedule in between now and then. No wonder I have anxiety attacks.

I could use a real vacation, but at $40 a night just to kennel the doggies, and with having to pay half the day-care payment even when the boys don't go at all, a week's vacation costs $500 before we've even gone anywhere. Given those grim circumstances, there won't be a real vacation this year. I'll have to set my sights on next year. Miracles happen sometimes, I suppose.

How cool! and one day to go

I discovered something very interesting yesterday: The author I was so excited about yesterday was one of the expert witnesses at the O.J. Simpson trial! I hadn't watched all the expert testimony back then (hey, I was in college and had lots of other things to do, though I vividly recall watching the verdict and thinking it was wrong) so I hadn't recognized his name, but someone else clued me in. So he definitely is well known in his field, and now I am even more shocked (in a good way) and excited that we have his book proposal coming our way.

The other great news is that today is my last day in Denver. Here's what my day involves:

• Printing my boarding pass at the earliest possible moment to get a good boarding order on my Southwest flight--and I'll finally find out, I think, where it stops along the way home. I'm guessing Chicago.
• Present in a session on how to publish in the book series I handle. I have a feeling that since it's the last scheduled session on the program that we'll have a small crowd, if any crowd at all.
• Pick up my rental car--I splurged on the Hyundai (ha)--and head to Boulder to meet with a bunch of potential authors.
• Meet up with my cousin Aileen for dinner and to meet her adorable little girl for the first time.
  
• Drop off the rental car and pack all my stuff since my flight leaves bright and early tomorrow morning!

It's going to be a busy day, but I'm hoping that just means the work part will be over before I know it. I also hope the weather holds since I'm not too keen on driving unfamiliar highways in a storm like we had last night. I found myself reading the hotel's info on what to do in case of a tornado, and I even slept in something I wouldn't be entirely embarrassed to be seen in if, as the instructions said could happen in a severe weather situation, all hotel guests would be told to report to the ballroom. Here's wishing never to experience that kind of excitement.

I wanna go home in the worst way, and I'm counting down the hours. Enough is enough already. I feel like I've been here for weeks. It's a great city, but it's not my city.

Getting better all the time

Even though this trip is insufferably long, it does have its purpose. And thank God for that because if I had to leave my family for 6 day for no good reason, I'd completely lose my mind.

One of the main reasons for this journey is to attend a huge conference of people working in a field directly related to a book series that I am responsible for. A series that has been floundering for much of its 11-year existence and that hasn't had a new book publish since June 2007.

But things are looking up. We had an amazing editorial board meeting a couple days ago, and the new people working on the board are actually going to do something, instead of just let us put their name on the list and then disappear into the darkness.

Yesterday was a huge success because a guy I've been trying to get to write a book since this same meeting in 2006 came up to me in the exhibit hall and said, "OK, I'm going to do this thing." I could've hugged him! His book will sell well...very well. And this series being seriously in the red (which is slightly ironic since the book covers are also red--ha, maybe a self-fulfilling prophecy? should've made them black, I guess), it could use a few high-selling books to drag it back out into the light of day.

So I'm excited. Although the travel part of this job is a stressful thing for me and my entire family, at least I can rest easy knowing that I'm using my time wisely and helping to secure my job's future by making progress with a series that used to be considered a bit of a dud. When I took it over a couple years ago, I wasn't sure there was any life left to be breathed into it, but it didn't take me long to see that all that was needed was some enthusiastic people to help us and some elbow grease. We're on our way!

In personal news, last night I actually got about 9hrs of fairly decent sleep. I feel almost like a human being again, and that is a good thing. Another night of crappy sleep and I was going to be pretty sick. Sleep deprivation comes in different forms, I've come to realize. And tossing and turning all night in a hotel bed creates a very different type of deprivation than getting good chunks of sleep in your own bed, broken by occasional crying jags from your baby across the hall, creates. To paraphrase Laverne & Shirley, I'm gonna make it after all.

Ugh, time zones

Am I the only one in Denver who is up at 3am each morning? My body is still on Philly time, and since I'm only in Denver for a few more days, at this point I might as well just go with the flow, rather than try to get my body to recognize Mountain Time. Luckily, there is a pretty nice view out my 26th floor hotel window that I wouldn't be able to appreciate in quite the same way during the daylight hours. Ha. I'm really reaching for reasons why it's not so bad to be an early-morning insomniac during a business trip that has little downtime. I am going to be so damn exhausted when I get home, especially since the only public transit I'm good at sleeping on is a train, not a plane.

The good news: We're at the bright-and-early start of day 3 of 6 so I'm roughly halfway to getting back home to see DH and the boys. Yesterday my parents valiantly toughed out the first day of wrangling both boys and both dogs, but they were a little frazzled around 8pm (EDT) when I called them. Padraic had skipped his only nap of the day, and Henry had skipped his afternoon nap. Too much excitement from having Mim and Pip around is what I'm guessing caused this blip in their day, but it sure leads to an interesting evening when the boys are overtired. Yikes. But Mom and Dad called me back after they and DH successfully bathed and put to bed both of my favorite little men, and things didn't go as badly as they could have. You should try one of those nights when the boys are both strung out from not getting enough naptime but you're home alone with them, trying desperately to get them both to go to sleep, but ending up bouncing back and forth between their rooms like a ping-pong ball for hours: Rock Henry to sleep; get Padraic water or a book or whatever he's demanding in a voice loud enough to wake Henry; go console Henry. Repeat until you're run off your feet and just want to cry.

Please wish the remaining days to go by quickly for me, OK? The grass is always greener, I know, but still I find myself yearning for my own bed in our incredibly messy bedroom back home and endless hugs and demands from two of the cutest little boys in history.

One down, five to go

Days of this trip, that is. Remember that internal clock I mentioned. Tick, tick, tick.

Ken got Padraic to leave me a voice mail on my cell phone saying, "I like Mommy." Awww, couldn't help the tears in my eyes so I was glad I was in my hotel room when I checked my messages. Then I called them to say hello, and Padraic eventually got on the phone and said, "I love you, Mommy." Awesome and painful all at the same time.

You know what bothers me most about traveling for work? Thinking that if something happened to me, my kids probably wouldn't remember me as they grow up. How old does a child have to be to have permanent memories that wouldn't seem like vapor as they got older? I can hardly breathe when I think of my boys growing up without knowing how I madly in love with them I am. That's what always got me choked up as I followed Randy Pausch's blog. Of his three children, only one of them would definitely be old enough to have indelible memories of Dad. His middle child might remember him, and his little girl almost certainly would not. How horribly painful must that knowledge have been? To be a parent and know that a child that you helped bring into the world not only would have to grow up without you but would have to do it without strong memories of doing things together with you, being loved unconditionally by you. I'd want my kids to remember how it felt when I hugged them, or took care of them when they were sick, or giggled with them. I'd want them to remember me enough to be able to feel me there with them throughout the rest of their lives.

OK, this is getting really depressing. Let's take a turn for the positive. The kids and Ken are doing great, and my parents arrived right when they had expected to. Everyone sounded happy and content when I called before bedtime. It's relieving and makes me a little jealous. How I'd love to spend a week with my family and my parents, without work hanging over my head. At least at the end of the month we are all going to get together at Gertstock, the family reunion named for my Nana. I can't wait.

Traveling for work

Today is another one of the days I dread most: Today I leave for a business trip. This particular trip is a doozie, too. I'll be two time zones away for 6 days. My stomach is already clenching at the thought of Padraic crying as I get out of the car at the airport. There's no way around it, though. I have to go, and saying goodbye is just part of the deal.

After my maternity leave with Henry I had to travel to the opposite coast for a conference. Henry was 4mos old, and leaving him killed me. And Padraic was 2.5yrs old so he was now aware of what was happening, and I was afraid of saying goodbye. Stupid Mommy, I thought sneaking out of the house when the airport shuttle arrived would save Padraic and me from a wailing session. Well, it did, but it produced something worse. My husband reported daily for the four days I was gone that Padraic kept asking if I was upstairs when they were downstairs, and vice versa. Crap. My beautiful son thought I was home but just didn't want to spend any time with him.

A month later I had to travel again, and this time I did the right thing, even though it wasn't easy. I endured Padraic's tears while saying goodbye and explaining that Mommy was going to work on a big airplane and would call him every day. Half and hour after I left the house, I called Ken to see how things were going. Padraic was fine, but I still had to get through my trip with the image of his heartbreak raging through my head. To top it off, baby Henry ended up at the ER with a case of pneumonia. Can we say "Mommy guilt"?! I was going to hop the next plane home, but Ken assured me it was mild and under control, though the hospital only let him take Henry home, rather than admitting him, because Ken proved he was very familiar with dealing with respiratory issues. Padraic had been treated for possible asthma for a year-and-a-half at that point.

I've done other trips since those first two, and it's always hard to say goodbye and then spend days away from my family. What's awesome is coming home. So when we say goodbye at the airport today, my internal clock will immediately start ticking down the seconds, minutes, hours, days until we're reunited. What will make this trip a scooch easier, too, is knowing that while I'm gone my parents are coming into town to spoil the boys rotten and give Ken a much-appreciated helping hand.

OK, let's get this over with.