I-Tunes Shuffle Embarrassment

We have a Bose I-Dock in our kitchen so I can listen to music as I cook (read, throw away my to-go boxes), unload the dishwasher, and bathe Boo Boo. Yes, even though Boo Boo is going on 10 months old, I still bathe him in the kitchen sink. In our bathroom upstairs, we have a shower stall, which won't work for a little guy who can't stand up by himself yet. And although our second bathroom has a tub, the faucet is basically right next to the toilet, so if I were to bathe him in the tub, I'd either have to lean way over to the faucet, or wedge my body in between the three or so inches separating the tub and the toilet. It would have been much better for bathing a baby if the fixture had been on the other side of the tub. But the kitchen sink works just fine for Boo Boo, and I'm not going to worry about it until he outgrows the space.

On my I-Pod, I have a Bathtime playlist, and it has songs on there like Splish Splash I Was Taking a Bath and Rubber Duckie, You're The One. It's cute to sing those to Boo Boo as he plays with his bath toys. The problem is that when you hit shuffle on the main play list, you do run the risk of having the Rubber Duckie song come on when you have friends over. And while that can easily be explained away, I didn't know quite what to say when my hip sister was over the other day and heard the Nick Lachey's single "You Can Have What's Left of Me" start to play. "You paid for Nick Lachey's single?" she asked. "You know everyone is saying the album is awful, right?" At the moment, words failed me.

But now you know. FFF is on Team Nick. I was on his team even before they split up as I find Jess super annoying, so it made me happy to hear his shirts are out-selling Jessica's 40 to 1. I guess I'm not the only one. And be careful about what you have on your IPod before you hit shuffle and play it for the world!

If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad.

A few years ago, the New York Times ran a story about the Opt Out Revolution. You can read it here. When I was working long hours at a firm, there was no way a baby could fit into my life. I would go in at 7 am, order dinner, and work till 9:30 most nights. And I worked about 10 hours most weekends. I didn't want to quit working all together to have a family. So I found a job that was more 8 to 5 that paid a little less, and then had a baby. So did I "Opt Out"? I still work a full work week. Was I pushed out by the demanding schedule ? Or did I just get out , and save myself and my sanity in the process? I don't think it anybody, feminist or not, can tell me it was wrong of me to say no to 70 hour work weeks. And I'm much happier working 40 hours with a balance in my life . So is the conclusion that I can have it all without opting out as long as I take some kind of government, nonprofit, corporate or a non-partnership track job? What happened to feminism?

Over the last four years, four of my good friends stayed home after having children and I have been supportive. My philosophy has always been to do what works for you. Feminism is all about choices, I would say. It's about giving you options. If you want to stay home, do that. If you want to work part-time, do that. All the choices are valid. But is that still the right response?

In this article, Linda Hirshman critiques "choice feminism" and argues that women must not get trapped in home-economics for the good of society at large. She offers all kinds of rules that will help women truly have it all. Marry a liberal guy, she says, who won't use conservative ideas to guilt you into staying home. Marry someone younger, who is willing to help around the house, or someone older, who has the money to hire you help. Have one kid, and not more, because that's when many women opt out. Stay in the city and not the suburbs. Pick a career that is in demand, work hard at it, focus, and be the best.

These sure seem like a lot of bizarre rules, but I sort of see her point. Although she articulates it much better than I could, I've always wondered, wouldn't I be letting down feminism, my parents, myself, my hard work if I were to quit and stay home to raise kids? Even assuming I could afford to stay home with my child and not change my lifestyle, I don't think I would. I would miss my job, the smart people I talk to, the quiet office and time for myself, and the break from the baby. If all I had known was housewife-dom, I might be satisfied raising kids. But having experienced the freedom of earning my own money, contributing, working as an equal, I don't think I would be happy with Barney and baking cookies.

I can say that today. But if you had given me the option of staying at the 70 hour a week lawfirm, and being a stay at home mom, I might have chosen differently. Another Saturday at the office given up to take the kids to the pool or a museum in the middle of the July heat doesn't sound bad at all. So do women quit because they don't feel comfortable with their child care and because they want to be home with their kids? Or is it that they are unsatisfied with their careers? If you hate practicing law at a big firm and don't think you are going to make partner anyway, its a convenient excuse that society will accept if you drop out to raise children. Because if you were to quit just to hang out at home and write or paint, people would raise eyebrows , but society doesn't have a problem with women wanting to be with their kids.

If you were miserable at work, that wouldn't be best for the child either. Parents who feel rewarded and fulfilled will be giving the best care to their children, and some women could feel rewarded and fulfilled at home too. We are lucky that we have the freedom decide whether or not to work , and for how long we should take a break or opt out . But along with th e ability to make these decisions comes the guilt that you are making the wrong choice. So then you feel the need to defend your choice and that leads to the Mommy Wars.

Why do women feel this pressure to stay at home with their kids? Are they accepting the old traditional roles? Is it biology? The thing is that 70 hour work weeks, whether its the mom or the dad putting in the time at the office, are just not good for family life. If both parents spent as much time as possible with their kids, that would set a good example for them on how to juggle and balance. I'd like to show my son how a woman can work and raise a well-adjusted child. Obviously more part-time, flex-time and job-sharing options would help with the balance. Throw in quality work and benefits, and it will go a great way to accommodate parents of young children. Or on-site day care. With a room for sick kids and one for well kids.

I think I'm back to square one. Do what works for you.

A Law Related Post

Today I went to the courthouse for a short hearing and saw the NBC and Court TV trucks set upside to cover the Andrea Yates retrial. As I explained earlier, her story saddens me. I think her husband should also be on trial for spousal abandonment and neglect.

In other news, the newest Supreme Court justice, Sam Alito, participated in this decision to uphold the death penalty in Kansas. The decision was 5-4, and the majority held that juries may impose the death penalty if aggravating evidence of a crime's brutality and mitigating factors explaining a defendant's actions are equal in weight. In my view, the death penalty should only be given when the criminal acts are somehow worse or more henious so as to justify taking someone's life, if at all. When the mitigating factors and aggravating factors surrounding the crime are equal, the verdict should not be for the death penalty because the burden to establish the need for the death penalty in a particular case should fall on the prosecution. The state should be required to tip the scale at least 51% in favor of aggravating facts to justify the death penalty. If mitigating factors and aggravating factors are equal, the prosectution hasn't met its burden. I don't practice criminal law, but it seems this result puts the burden on the defendant to show he shouldn't get the death penalty, when the burden should be reversed.

Finally, some questions concerning identity theft. So much personal information is electronic now, as we pay our bills online and businesses outsource their customer service departments. Everyone, from the cell phone company to the insurance company, asks for your social security number and mother's maiden name. Your social security number isn't really private any more, is it? I had a professor in college who made us turn in papers with our names and our social security numbers, and would post grades by social security number too. Since its becoming such an identifier, isn't it just like your name, which isn't private? And, are all the kids whose moms kept their maiden names at greater risk for identify theft, or can you ask for an alternate question to verify identity?

It's Been A Hard Day's Night ...

TWO Teeth!

Boo Boo has two teeth that popped out on the same day!

Conversations with R, No. 1

A couple of years ago, R and I are driving down the highway on a Saturday to go see his parents. It's a sunny day and we've got the radio on. As I lazily stare out the window, I see one of those pick-up trucks that has a cover on the back of the bed that is the same height as the cab. Maybe there is a more technical name for this cover, but it basically makes the pick-up look like an SUV. In the back window, there is a sticker with the word LEER on it.

FFF: (casually remarks) I think its so great that so many Texans are supportive of Hispanic literacy.

R: What are you talking about?

FFF: Well, I see these bumper stickers that say LEER all the time. You know, that's the Spanish verb "to read." Isn't that in support of literacy for immigrants?

R: (Between gasps of laughter) LEER is the company that makes those covers.

FFF: (small voice) Oh. Well, I like my version better.

How Text Messaging Can Save You Money

When I need the number to a restuarant to make a reservation, find out if they are open, or place a to-go order, I generally look it up online at citysearch.com or the restuarant's website if I'm at work. But on the weekends I never want to walk upstairs and power on the computer so I end up calling 1411 instead. Those calls to Information can get expensive, especially from your cell phone.

So here's the awesome new way to get the information you need that my sister taught me. Send a text message with the restuarant and street or zip you are looking for to Google (that is, text the numbers that correspond to the letters G-o-o-g-l-e, or to 466453). In seconds, they will text the number you are looking for back to you. Google directory assistance, all for the cost of a text message. So convenient when you are out and about!

I used this service last weekend. My in-laws wanted to take me, R, and Boo Boo out for dinner to celebrate birthdays. I asked them to make it an early dinner so Boo Boo could stay on his bed time schedule. We had a 5:00 pm dinner reservation at Flemings. This is the most elegant restuarant we've ever taken Boo Boo too, and I was hopeful that he would do well because he had a long nap at 2:30 and had a big snack at 4:15. But before the waitress could even take our drink order, Boo Boo was fussy. He would not sit still in his booster seat, which will usually entertain him for at least 30 minutes. He wasn't comfortable in my arms, didn't want a bottle, didn't want a cracker, and even letting him drink water from an adult glass, which is usually the most fabulous treat in the world to him (seriously, this kid LOVES water) wasn't making him happy. A waiter walked over and said he had several brothers and sisters and wondered if he could be of any help. That was our clue. We didn't want to be the family with the screaming kid that everyone looks at, you know, THAT family ("why did they bring a kid out to this kind of place anyway?"), so R walked around with Boo Boo outside while the drink order was taken. Outside, Boo Boo was happy as can be, babbling and cooing at the outdoor fountain. I don't know if it was too cold, too dark, or too frou-frou in the restuarant for Boo Boo, but as soon as Boo Boo came inside, he was miserable and crying. So R just took him home while I enjoyed some lamb chops and creamed spinach with the in-laws.

How do you feel about kids in restuarants? Did your tolerance level change after you had kids? Does the place or the time make a difference?

As we were about to leave Flemings, I text message Googled the number for Churrasco's, a lovely South American restuarant close by, and placed a to-go order of their tres leches cake for R. I figured he deserved some milky cakey goodness for taking care of Boo Boo and giving me a night off. The Churrasco's waiter informed me that I could order one piece of tres leches cake to-go for $7, or get a pan that serves 6-8 for $20. Guess which one I opted for? Hint: I got to eat some tres leches too!

Question for the Houstonians--have you seen the new "hip hop" Gallery Furniture commercial where Mattress Mac is rapping?

Questions for today

1. What is "menu price" anyway? I keep seeing commercials for $5 pizza when you buy one at menu price. The suspicious pessimist in me wonders if its $45 for a pizza at regular menu price. I always use coupons.
2. Why does Boo Boo hate it when I try to wipe his runny nose, but doesn't mind rubbing his face all over my shirt when both seem to accomplish the same thing?
3. Why do womens shoes feel comfortable in the store and but then when you wear them for 4 hours give you a blister from from the pinching?
4. While napping on the bus, how does my body have an internal clock to wake me up exactly when I am one stop away from needing to get off? Every day I wonder if I will miss my stop and every day, my eyes open just before they are supposed to.
5. How come everyone I deal with during this home building process is incompetent?
6. Why is it that in one of the most ethnically diverse cities in the United States, there is no place to get Indian food downtown? Even Austin has Clay Pit.
7. Has anyone ever played a game consisting of a wooden triangle with holes in it containing little golf tee looking pegs? You have 15 holes and 14 pegs and you have to jump them and remove until only 1 peg is left. Apparently, they are all the rage at Cracker Barrel all over the South. Someone just gave me one and they are kind of addictive!
8. Why is it that every time I'm walking down the street, someone stops me to hand me a flyer?

Anyone?

Hurricane Rita Baby Part I (or, the longest, most self-centered post yet)

Heavy rain fell on Houston Sunday night and early Monday morning. As Pete has hilariously explained here, Houstonians are skittish about all severe weather this year. Even though we are used to heavy rain, everyone compares big storms to Hurricane Alicia or Tropical Storm Allison. I stayed home from work on Monday and played with Boo Boo and his favorite Leap Frog Table as he tried to fight an ear infection. We leisurely watched the weather on TV from the warm, dry, living room floor. I remembered watching the weather with a great deal more intensity about 9 months ago. That was the week that Hurricane Rita threatened Houston and mass evacuations ensued. Instead of heading up 290 to Austin, however, R and I drove to the Medical Center and camped out for Boo Boo's birthday.

On Thursday, my son turns nine months old. He's been a part of this outside world for a week longer than he was inside me. I never posted his Hurricane Rita birth story because I didn't start my blog until he was about 5 months old. Maybe one day he will want to read the story, and I've been wanting to write it down. So, my handful of faithful blog readers, here you go.

From about the 30th week of my pregnancy on, Boo Boo was in some kind of breach position at each doctor's appointment I went to. He would twist and turn slightly, but was never head down. By about 36 weeks, my doctor wanted to talk about the possibility of a C-section if the baby didn't turn. At 37 weeks, Boo Boo was still breach. We scheduled two more appointments about 4 days apart. If there was no position change, we'd do a scheduled C-section at 39 weeks. My last day of work was Monday, September 19th. On Tuesday, I went to lunch with R's coworkers. They were very sweet, and had brought me presents. R's boss got me a blanket and outfit from Gymboree (I love that store's sale racks!) that had been gift wrapped. If you've ever had that store wrap a present for you, you know that Gymboree puts the present in a box, and then uses a giant circular sticker to tape a piece of ribbon on the box to hold it shut. They have flowers, soccer balls and cookie shaped stickers. R's boss had chosen a globe sticker. She had taken a Sharpie marker and drawn the projected path of Hurricane Rita on the map of the Gulf of Mexico and Texas.

People were beginning to talk about the storm. My law firm had started moving boxes in the hall to interior offices. I was so focused on the baby, though, it didn't really hit me that we might have a hurricane hit Houston in the next few days. I watched the news that night in a daze and got more than a little concerned. R let me take a bubble bath and went to Home Depot. He came back carrying a big plastic container of apple juice, scared. Home Depot was out of batteries and the store was rationing plywood. He stopped at Kroger and they were out of water, so he bought juice instead.

I had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday afternoon and we went to Super Target that morning. I had never seen the shelves of canned goods empty. No more battery powered fans. No garbage bags. No flashlights. We just looked at each other, wide-eyed, down the empty linoleum expanse as my cell phone rang. It was my doctor calling to make sure I was still coming to my appointment. Several patients had cancelled because they were evacuating, and he wanted me to come in early so we'd have more time to talk and discuss options. As we headed down to the Medical Center and I checked my Blackberry. My firm was closing on Thursday and Friday, and they were letting people go home on Wednesday to make evacuation arrangements. I suppose the potential severity of the situation still hadn't completely hit me, because the first thing I thought was, "Score! If the firm is closing, that's two days of vacation I don't have to take. Two more days with my baby before I go back to work!"

The doctor's visit was sobering. The baby hadn't turned. The doctor didn't want me to risk going into labor during the middle of the storm and not be able to get a hospital. I would have completed 38 weeks on Thursday, and the doctor recommended a C-section the next morning. He explained that he lived in Pearland, and would be moving to the hospital's on-call room for the next 5 days. He held my hand and said "Whatever this storm brings, we'll go through it together. I'll be there too." He explained that all the nurses were staying with their families at the hosital too. I was scared. I don't like deviating from The Plan. I had The Plan all mapped out in my mind, and had a packed hospital bag with a copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting and What to Expect the First Year highlighted with sticky tabs. As you can probably guess, The Plan did not involve a hurricane. So even though I had a million questions, I kept repeating the same one: "But can't we just wait until after the hurricane?" The doctor explained that the safest thing for and the baby was to do it now. "Houston isn't New Orleans, and we know what to do in the Medical Center after Tropical Storm Allison, but I can't have you going into breach labor during a hurricane" he said. So I was set. Go do some blood work downstairs to save time the next day, and report back at 6 am the next morning.

The stupid nurse taking my blood scared me. She said she was leaving town that day even though the hospital had asked her to stay and work because there was no way she was going to stay at the hospital with her family in the on-call rooms all weekend. "It's going to be horrible here," she said. Nice. Just what you tell someone about to hunker down in a hospital room for 4 days. She also said I'd have to take off all my jewelry, including my gold bracelet. "No," I thought. "I won't." The first time R said I love you to me, he gave me a gold bracelet. It's a simple chain, but he saved his money for it, he put it on for me, and I hadn't taken it off for over 10 years. It doesn't come off in metal detectors at the airport, when I'm swimming, never. When I told her I wouldn't take it off, the nurse told me they'd cut it off. I couldn't bear for that to happen, so I took it off that night and cried a little. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

My mom had been worried about a c-section since the moment the topic had come up. Our master bedroom is upstairs and she was worried about me climbing the stairs. I was worried about staph infections, staples, and the removal of a uterus. I sat on the couch that Wednesday night and watched R move all our furniture to the middle of the room in piles feeling a bit helpless. My lists were not a comfort to me, just a reminder that I was about to give up a lot of control, and that was worrisome. We live up in Northwest Houston and weren't that concerned about the hurricane force winds, but if it flooded, at least the expensive stereo equipment would be on top of the sofas. We didn't sleep much that night.

I woke up bright and early on Thursday morning, September 22nd, took a shower, and loaded the car. We tried to get out of our house on to 290 and the traffic wasn't moving. It looked like people had been waiting all night on Wednesday night to get out of town. I got scared--what if we didn't make it down there? R took Hempstead Highway for a while and then traffic cleared up inside the 610 loop. Everyone was headed outbound to Austin. We drove to the hospital and checked in. We were there at 5:30 am, and it took us an hour and 10 minutes to go about 25 miles into the city from the suburbs. The nurses told us it would be a while. They were running behind because a lot of people hadn't come to work. I dozed on the couch and listened to my Ipod. At about 10:15, they finally took me back to get prepped for the surgery. I was annoyed that I had to wait for so long, but in pretty good spirits when I saw my doctor. I was tired of being worried. It's my baby's birthday, I thought. I just want to be happy.

The nurse made me change into a gown and then strapped a fetal monitor on me. R got into his scrubs and we just looked at each other silently, and we were both thinking "wow, we are actually going to do this..." When I got my epidural, it hurt for a second and I gripped my nurse tightly. I had been super worried about them putting in too deep and paralyzing me. I was glad that it was just an irrational fear and that it was not a big deal. It just felt like someone was blowing bubbles inside my spine. Ticklish and it made me want to scratch.

Then R came in and stood behind me, holding my hand. I don't remember feeling a whole lot during the c-section. The books say you will feel tugging or stretching like you are being unzipped, but I just felt a poke every now and then. The doctors were all very jolly, and kept begging me to name the baby Rita. I was sort of annoyed that they could joke around when I needed them to focus on my uterus, but then the doctor told R to get the camera ready and I heard a cry. I couldn't see since I had to take my glasses off for the surgery and thought it was very unfair, considering I was the mother and all. R went off to do weighing and measuring and foot print taking while I smelled burning but I couldn't really focus. Every thing was kind of fuzzy and whatever brain waves I had were focused on the cries I was hearing. Finally, they brought over this bundle thing and held it up near my shoulder and said "this is your baby!" And I was all loopy and said, "really?" The nurse told me to kiss my son because they had to take him away for monitoring, so I demanded my glasses and then gave this red faced baby a kiss. I honestly cannot remember much more than that.

I was taken to a recovery room and where I was very, very cold and grateful for the heated blanket they placed on me as it let comforting warmth seep through me. The nurse said I had to cough for her. When I did, she said R could come back to check on me. I kept waiting and waiting, not realizing R and his parents were cooing at Boo Boo in the nursery. R finally came in and said his parents were there and the baby was cutest thing ever. I was mad that he wasn't sitting with me, but apparently, my sense of time was all messed up because he had only been gone from my side for about 15 minutes. There was a big discussion about whether I would get a private room or not as the hospital wasn't sure about how many patients they would have with the Hurricane. I was finally taken to my room.

A few moments later, my in laws came into the room with the nurses that were wheeling the baby in. My mother in law brought the baby to me. Later I would be pissed that she held the baby first before I really got to. Later I would cry and cry for no reason but post partum hormones. Later I would demand a breast pump. But at that moment when I first held my little Boo Boo, I was amazed by all his dark hair, his long eyelashes, his smooth, pale skin, and how little he was. I couldn't really grasp the idea that he was my baby, and that I was his mother. I didn't feel instant love, but I felt instant maternal protectiveness. His cries were like a kitten's meowing, and his nails were as thin as rice paper but razor sharp and longer than I had expected. At 6 lbs and 10 oz, he was so tiny that the newborn hats I had carefully packed were too big for him. The very first time I held him he gripped my finger tight enough to make me wonder at amazement at his strength. And he turned his face to his father's voice. He really did, even though that sounds like a made-for-TV movie. I was in awe of his awesomeness.

Part II to come.

The debate working parents have every time their kid is sick...

It's been a couple of days since I posted since I've been dealing with a sick baby. Over the weekend, Boo Boo was sneezing. Monday he had the sniffles. Tuesday he had a runny nose. Wednesday morning he was coughing. But no fever. Slight decrease in appetitite, but he is sleeping well. Tuesday night he was out from at 8:15 pm and didn't wake up until 6:20 am on Wednesday.

As we played with him Wednesday morning, R and I looked at the clock at the same time. 6:50 am. What are we going to do today, take him to day care, or stay home? "No fever, so there is no need not to take him," I begin. "Yes, but he's clearly not himself." We start the discussion. "I have a meeting from 1 to 3 that I have to be in for, but other than that, I could stay home," R says. "Well, I could stay home all day today, luckily, I brought work with me last night, but I definitely cannot stay home tomorrow," I say. "I can stay home with him today if you take tomorrow."

But what's better, I wonder? Staying home and trying to distract Boo Boo while working, or letting him go play at day care? He's used to day care and has buddies and toys there, but he won't be with us, and he has been a bit clingy. "There's no fever," I repeat again. It's just a little cold, I think. The Pediacare plug in, the Triaminic patch, the Ocean nose drops to dissolve snot and a baby decongestant should do the trick. He's built up his day care immunity now. There's no ear tugging. He's fine. We need to let his body fight this. R just looks at me.

We make an appointment with the pediatrician just to be safe. Turns out Boo Boo has another ear infection. We had 4 ear infections in the first three months of day care. Ten day courses of antibiotics each time. Forty out of his first ninety days in school, Boo Boo was sick. Then he went about 2 months with out any problem. There was a hand, foot and mouth virus outbreak and an RSV outbreak that he survived without any problems. For the last 9 weeks, he has been illness free and has been sleeping much better. Interesting how those two go hand in hand!

And now, today, he has his 5th ear infection. The doctor presribed Omnicef. R is home today. I went to work. I will be home tomorrow. And I feel like an awful mother for wanting to send him to day care. But he had no fever! (We were on a BREAK!) I know R is annoyed at me for making him call me on his cell phone's speaker phone while he was at the doctor's office so I could hear and ask questions about the diagnosis. Sorry. But it's my job to "balance." Balance does not mean each day ends in a tie. I don't always get to do mommyhood and work evenly half-half. Something wins one day, something else wins the next. It equals out on my own personal life scale, and that's balance.

I have no interest in the Mommy Wars. Do what works for you. This works for me. A long time ago, women had to choose between becoming wives and having careers. Then women could have careers and be married, as long they were secretaries or school teachers. It's wonderful that women today don't have to choose between marriage and a career as a lawyer, a doctor or an engineer. But sometimes, it feels like society is making us choose between a career and motherhood.

The A/Cs are not enough ...

We just recently signed a contract to have a new house built. R, my engineer husband and resident technophile, wants extra A/C vents in his study. He'd like to have the standard 3 ton A/C unit upgraded to a 5 ton unit because he has a lot of electronics in his study, including 4 computers and 3 printers that make the room hot. He explained this to our sales consultant, and she didn't seem to understand his needs. She kept saying that the A/Cs provided were 14 seer, as though that would reassure him that the standard A/C was adequate. The sales consultant kept emphasizing that most builders only use 12 seer A/C units. He was telling me about his frustrations last night at dinner and said that he needed to talk to someone in the builder's HVAC or engineering department. Here's how our conversation went:

R: You know that James Bond movie that has Denise Richards playing a nuclear physicist who dismantled warheads??
FFF: Yeah, The World is Not Enough.
R: Well, you know how Christmas Jones recited all those technical lines of dialogue about her job and what she was doing with absolutely no comprehension? She repeated what was written in the script about uranium and quantum mechanics or whatever but said it with a completely blank look on her face like she had memorized the words but had no idea what they meant. That's what the sales consultant looked like talking about how lucky we were to be getting 14 seer units instead of 12 seer.
FFF: But you know, we are lucky. I thought 14 seer units only came once year?

State Songs

A couple of us were reviewing documents in a conference room at work today and one of my coworkers brought an Ipod that we plugged into speakers. He had Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver on there, which is kind of a tribute to West Virginia. It made me think about how there are some states that have a lot of songs about them, and then others that just don't. California (Hotel California by the Eagles and Californication by the Chilli Peppers come to mind. As well as that O.C. theme song that always gets stuck in my head) and Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas and Hello, Texas by Jimmy Buffet) are states that have a lot of songs with the name of the state in the title. But I don't think I've ever heard of song with say, Rhode Island or South Dakota in the chorus or title, have you? Look at how many songs I know with Georgia in the title:

1. Midnight Train to Georgia, Gladys Knight and the Pips
2. Why, Georgia, Why? John Mayer
3. Georgia on My Mind, Ray Charles
4. Devil Went Down to Georgia, Charlie Daniel's Band
5. Rainy Night in Georgia, Sam Moore/Conway Twitty
6. Welcome To Atlanta, Ludacris, P.Diddy and Snoop Dogg

Well, that last one is about a city, but you get the idea. Can you think of others? More useless knowledge for you to store away in case there is ever a Trivial Pursuit or Jeopardy! question about such inane matters.

Can't Beat the Real Thing

Boo Boo is pulling up now and teething. There are buckets of drool and he has a low grade fever. He'll stick a toy in his mouth and frantically shake his head back and forth so the toy massages his gums. We are trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. Luckily, cool and shiny red cans make him happy.

Happy Birthday to me!

This week, I turn 30, and I have to change the description of my blog now! Thirty. I thought it would feel older, wiser. Instead, I'm still winging it, doing my best, but don't have it all figured out yet. But I'm not glum like I thought I would be. I feel serene. Life is good. And I have great birthday memories:

When I was little, my grandfather lived in another country, and before the days of email, he would write me a long loving letter each year for my birthday. He would always include a story he wrote for me about Winnie the Pooh, and his favorite, Eeyore. This was before Winnie the Pooh became all Disneyfied, and I wish I had some of those letters saved. I do remember my mom showing me how to soak the envelope to peel off the cool stamps.

When I turned 5, my parents ordered a giant, yummy black forest cake in the shape of a letter F for me. And the obsession with the letter began.

When I turned 6, my mom let me wear my long hair down for my party. My hair was down to my waist and it was always pulled tightly back in two stiff braids. I felt like a princess with the loose waves, but I have never had so many tangles in my life. I remember being tired after the party, sitting in my mom's lap in this red chair that spun, and she carefully brushed it all out. She told me that fashion hurts. Maybe that is why I'm a ponytail and no make up, glasses instead of contacts, kind of girl!

When I turned 10, my mom made me a perfect birthday breakfast and I had a party at Wimpy's. I got to wear a pretty blue and white party dress that my Rafiq Uncle helped me pick out.

When I turned 11, I got to design my own cake. I used m&ms to make a tic tac toe on my cake (not sure why, not that I was really into tic tac toe, it just seemed cool at the time) and my mom made hand made goody bags for my friends out of pink satin and embroidered the name of each girl on to them. She was Martha Stewart before Martha Stewart was cool.

For my 12th birthday, my girlfriends and I went to see Three Men and a Baby at the movies, and my aunt SK bought me the coolest outfit ever, a purple and black striped skirt set, as well as my first Anne of Green Gables book, which I loved. She also wrote the most perfect thing in my card ever, and I will never forget her words. She wrote, "I love you, FFF. I know that this world will be a good place in the years to come because you are in it." Something for me to live up to.

When I was 13, a Liz Claibourne purse was THE accessory at my middle school. I used to dream about those purses, but at $50, it was way too steep for our budget. My aunt RK took me shopping and bought me one for my birthday and I was thrilled. I loved the smell and feel of the soft, buttery leather, and even asked the sales lady to leave in the tissue paper stuffing as I carried it home from the mall.

When I was 16, I had my first boy girl party. (I know, late bloomer, right?). But no boys came. Just as well. My girl friends and I felt elegant eating baked ziti from Sbarro's in the formal dining room with Pet Shop Boys on the tape deck. But then we played cards and watched New Jack City.

When I was 17, I graduated from high school, bought a stereo with a CD player in it (very cutting edge at the time) with my graduation money, and got a car!

When I was 19, R and I had just started dating. He bought me perfume and a giant vase of arranged roses. A bit cliche, but I had never had flowers from a boy that weren't from Kroger in the plastic. It had always seemed a waste of money to me to spend $50 for roses in a vase, when the kind in the green tissue paper were $15. But romance is not always practical, and those were the most perfect flowers ever. Eleven years later, I don't think I've been given nicer flowers. They made my day really special. Even though R's card did say "To FFF, From R," in pencil with nothing else. Short and sweet from an engineering major. Over the years, I have taught R what women expect out of a card. Pen. Appropriate salutations and closings. And a couple of handwritten sentences in between.

When I turned 21, I had just graduated from college. There were some big plans to go out, but the day of my birthday, I landed wrong on my Reebok step in aerobics class and twisted my ankle, so R came over and we had dinner at home with my family. My sister was working at the Gap at the time and she bought me lots of presents with her employee discount.

Adulthood has been fabulous. Last year, I was pregnant, and this year, I have an adorable Boo Boo waiting at home for me, lucky me! What are some of your favorite birthday memories?

Thursday Thirteen

My friend Michelle has a son in middle school and when she tells me about his soccer games and bike rides I think back to my own middle school days and wonder what Boo Boo will be like at that age. Will he be the outdoorsy type, or more of a bookworm? Play in the band, or be in Math Club? The possibilities are endless. I read a lot in my tween years, and so for my Thursday Thirteen, I present FFF's Favorite Authors suitable for the 9-13 age range. I was trying to make them all series, but didn't quite manage.

1. Ann M. Martin (Babysitters Club series)
2. Beverly Cleary (the Henry, Ribsy, Ramona, Beezus stories)
3. Judy Blume (everyone knows Judy Blume!)
4. Laura Ingalls Wilder (Little House series)
5. L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables series)
6. Enid Blyton (Mystery, Famous Five, The Enchanted Wood, Mallory Towers ...)
7. Lois Lowry (Anastasia series)
8. Carolyn Keene (Nancy Drew series)
9. Roald Dahl (BFG, The Witches, James and the Giant Peach, etc)
10. E.B. White (Trumpet of the Swan, Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little...)
11. Frances Hogdson Burnett (The Secret Garden, A Little Princess)
12. Sydney Taylor (All of a Kind Family)
13. Francine Pascal (Sweet Valley High series)

Read other Thursday Thirteen lists here.

When life charges you for lemons ...

I'm cautiously optimistic about Boo Boo's sleeping. On Friday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights, he slept through the night. Meaning from 8:00 pm to 6:00 or 6:30 am. Wow. Bliss. He'll wake up occasionally and cry, but my rule was not to go into his room unless he cried for more than 10 minutes, and we never even got past 7 minutes. I cannot begin to tell you how well rested I feel.

So now I have no more excuses for this post-partum weight I am carrying. I need to start working out and eating better. This week, I joined Weight Watchers Online. I've done the meetings in the past with success, so we'll see how the online thing goes. And I've started drinking a lot more water. When I was pregnant, I loved drinking my water with fresh lemon squeezed in it. And ever since then, I really like water with lemon.

There's an art to picking the perfect lemon wedge. You don't want one with a lot of seeds. You don't want one with more wedge than pulp. You don't want the kind where the pulp has that thin layer of skin on it that you will need to break through when you squeeze. An appropriately juicy lemon can make water taste like a real treat.

I drink water at work all day long. Lucky us, we get free Ozarka at the office. But I'm too lazy to cut my own lemons and bring them from home. So I tried to see if lemon juice in a bottle would work. Unfortunately, even after a big squirt, its not the same. The tartness is missing. Last week I tried Propel Fitness Water with natural lemon flavor. Yuck. It has sugar in it. This morning, I bought a banana at Alonti, and I got a cup of water and threw in four lemon slices. I figured I could use them all day and be happy. That place is such a rip off. It was $1.00 for the banana, and they charged me fifty cents for the lemons, plus tax! Yes, apparently the rule is the first two lemon wedges are free, and then they are a quarter a piece after that. That sucks. I might need to start bringing my own cut up lemons from home when I think of it. Or I can just get over my stupid issue and just drink plain water.