the pieces of my life

I had fully intended on blogging more tonight, commenting a bit on the article that Eugene linked to in his blog that says that children not only don’t bring happiness to parents, but parents are happiest when the kids grow up and leave them, and I probably was going to blog about how happy I am that the “Karate” commercial for Dunkin Donuts that I LOVE and that Adam DETESTS is finally online, and Adam’s taught Doodles to say, “Ka-rate!” but then I realized I had a new episode of Commander-in-Chief on Replay so I watched it, and it was about the E.R.A. and I remember the E.R.A. and how personally devastated I was when it didn’t pass and how I couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t pass, even though my best friend was against it because it meant that men and women would have to use the same bathroom (untrue) and that women would be drafted into the army (true, but that’s an argument against the draft, not E.R.A.) and I knew it was all Phyllis Schlafly and Anita Bryant’s fault, but I’m not writing about the E.R.A., I was writing about this blog and the point was that I watched Commander-in-Chief and now I’m feeling zombie like, and since Adam has to get up at 4:30 a.m. to catch a 6 a.m. flight to New York, I’m feeling even more zombie-like knowing that I’m on full morning duty, which includes convincing Doodles to wear his “lotion” (a.k.a. sunscreen) and that no, he can’t go to school barefoot, and yes, pants are required and he’s already had a special treat milk (a.k.a. Carnation Instant Breakfast), so no he can’t have another, and I don’t know, where did you put your airplane, and I’m sorry but you can’t take it school with you, and we’ll have to see about the playground later, and Sweetie, what are you doing? take that out of your mouth, don’t you know that shoes are dirty and Sweetie, Sweetie! Sweetie! Please don’t eat your brother’s books, because it really upsets him and I’m not crazy about the fact that you ripped the cover off that other one, and how did you get to the stereo? i put you down on the other side of the room and I have to say, I’m not at all sure I like this crawling thing that you’re doing now Sweetie! spit that out! do I need to dig that thing out of your mouth? and… sigh!… so what this all boils down to is that you people all suffer by not getting more of a blog entry this week because I’m going to bed.

Doodles’s new favorite song is “Puff the Magic Dragon.” We were listening to it the other morning, and when it was done, Doodles asked me, “Can we listen to ‘Kumbayah?'”

Be still my bleeding-liberal heart.

And Adam? In your face!

At Sweetie Pie’s nine month doctor’s appointment, the doc told me I could put Pie on whole milk at 11 1/2 months. I’m not sure when I’ll wean here from br*eastfeeding, but you can sure as hell bet that I’m not going to pump one single day more than I absolutely have to. I figure that Pie will be in day care 15 times between now and when she turns 11 1/2 months. Given that she drinks 12 ounces during the day care day, that’s 180 more ounces that I need, plus about another 12 ounces to have on hand in the freezer for those days when Adam needs to put Sweetie to bed and I’m not home. I currently have 30 1/4 ounces stored in my freezer, which means I need another 161 3/4 ounces. Estimating that I pump about 6 ounces at a time, that comes out to 27 more times pumping, 27 more times before I am free, free, free! of that evil chomping udder-inducing machine!

Not that I’m counting, or anything. (I guess all those word problems in elementary school math did pay off!)