Tuesday, November 25, 2008


Tired. First, my kid couldn't keep anything down for 48 hours. Not even water. Now that we're over that (and a false ear infection, and an unexplained rash, two visits to the doctor and three phone calls to the nurse), she won't poop. Operation Suppository failed so now we're on to Operation Laxative.

I just want her (and all of us) to be healthy for Thanksgiving, her birthday, and traveling to my mom's (we've tried to go the last two weeks and couldn't because one or all of us was sick).

No one tells you before you become a parent how much time you will spend thinking about poop.

Friday, November 14, 2008


I was in Chicago for a few days last week for a conference and tacked on some time for visiting with Kristin, my matron of honor (or as we said at the time "old bag of honor" because, really, isn't that what "matron" means?). I stayed at the Allerton Hotel, which was built in the '20s. It was renovated earlier this year and has lovely rooms. Other people at the conference complained that their rooms were very, very small, but they had 23rd-floor views of Michigan Avenue. My room, on the other hand, was about standard hotel size, but I was on the 4th floor, so my view was of the hotel's HVAC system and two sides of the building. Let's just say I left the curtains closed the whole time.

You might recognize the neon sign on the hotel, which you can see better in the picture below. Tip - Top - Tap was the name of the bar at the top of the hotel back in the day (the space is now occupied by a fitness center, and no, I didn't see it). It means there's a tap at the tip-top of the building. Clever, those flappers and gangsters and whoever.

Anyway, I made a pilgrimage to the Flagship Cathedral of the St. Holy Crate & Barrel and spent a good hour wandering all four stories -- and came out of there with a gravy boat and a towel. I guess I just don't need another serving plate or cheese grater.

It was nice to be away from my usual routine of work and heating up frozen pizza, but I had a hard time relaxing. I don't know what to do with myself without a job to go to or a house to tend to or people in that house who need me. I was too worried about what was going on at home, if Lauren was giving Bret a hard time, if she was sleeping (it's one thing to trade off with your partner when the kid won't sleep; it's another thing to have to handle it by yourself all night). They did just fine, and she's definitely daddy's girl now that she spent so much time with him. I also found it hard to relax because I'm so used to doing something all the time -- laundry, getting dinner ready, playing with Lauren, packing her lunch, reading the mail -- that to have NOTHING to do between 4:30 pm and 7:30 the next morning felt very strange. I thought I'd sleep the sleep of the dead without the baby monitor buzzing and a bed all to myself, but I didn't. I guess I like my crazy life more than I realized. And it was awfully nice to come home to these two:

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

I Hope She's Right

What Lauren thinks of McCain's chances of winning today:

Monday, November 3, 2008

Dressing Up

Yes, I went as Pat for Halloween. I have no idea what made me think of it, but that's what I did. It was actually really easy to pull off (which is kind of scary). I bought a wig and glasses, darkened my eyebrows with black eyeliner and wore no other makeup. I wore a pair of my own khakis and found an old denim shirt of Bret's, along with a black belt and some black oxfords I bought for Halloween a few years ago (we went as The Blues Brothers), and there you go.
Everyone at the party knew who I was right away and cracked up. So, it had the desired effect. I guess I am more into getting the laugh than taking the opportunity to dress uber-slutty like the trend seems to be right now for Halloween (there was a middle-aged woman dressed as a Playboy bunny and another as a pirate-wench with serious cleavage at this party).
Anyway, I had a good time and it was worth it, even if there are now pictures of me with my shirt tucked into my pants. Eesh.