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The hubby and Miss 6(now 7) go wicki.

>This morning as I was screaming myself into a sore throat at Miss 6 (now 7), the phone rang. My mother’s chirpy voice says, “We’re having a baby to-day!” I thought I would have whiplash from the abrupt switch in mental state. It worked so well in Miss 6’s (now 7) favor that I could have sworn she was texting my mom from behind her recently slammed door. (But, as you can see from my other posting, Sophie Caroline arrived without incident and is as cute as a little butterball.)

So that’s us. I have a sinus infection that has caused the left side of my face to go numb (when it isn’t throbbing) and my teeth to hurt. The Bean has a double-ear-infection with a side of RSV. Her face has been goober-covered non-stop for over a week now. Her hair has taken the form of perpetual crust. Yum. We’re both on antibiotics now and we’re both as ill as hornets. Hence the yelling scene while trying to get back into the school morning rhythm after four days off.

I’ve decided that I have to pretend to be 100% well and happy at all costs. Because if I so much as sneeze, they decide they are going to pounce. Just like the large predatory animals I wax on about. The ones that wait for the weakest one to come along before they attack. So, yes, my children are like predatory beasts when I get sick. And this time one of them is so very, very sick that she’s just beastly anyway because she feels like sh**. Then there’s the hubby. A saint among saints who does everything in his power to keep us all afloat when I’m sinking. This time he tried his best which meant no choice but to wave good-bye and head to the office. As my heart sank. Monday was a holiday. So yet again I put on my juggling hat and made a decision to suck it up — even though all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. I took some work calls, answered e-mails, and dealt with a Blackberry malfunction while bean walked around crying (her new persona courtesy of multiple illness) and Miss 6 (now 7) danced in her room to her new iPod.

I realized that maintaining sanity meant trying to get out. So since the sun was shining I thought, “Picnic!” We loaded up and headed to North Boulder. My plan was a stop at Spruce Deuce for sandwiches and then go to Foothills Park that everyone raves about. The minute we step out of the car, I know this isn’t going to go well. The wind was howling and frigid and Miss 6 (now 7) started complaining. “We’ll eat under the shelter and it will be fine,” I assured her. Well. It wasn’t. It was worse. But we plowed on. Determined. And after a few bites of sandwich, I notice Bean digging at her tongue. Then see Miss 6 (now 7) doing something similar. “Is something wrong with the sandwich?” “Well. Yea. It’s really spicy.” Damn, damn, damn. The mustard. So I try to salvage a few bites and we pack it up and head for the car. Then home. The outing was over. And I realized as we were driving away that I’d obviously gone to the wrong park. Not the cool one everyone has been telling me about.

When we got home, the hubby called to say he’d be home early. He knew I had a work dinner and needed a little down time. (Ain’t he sweet?) He got home and we decided that Bean needed the doctor. Enough was enough. So I grabbed a quick nap, called the doc for myself and then showered for the dinner. He worked for a while, then scooped up the girls and took them both to the 5 p.m. appointment. The balancing act of true partnership…

The dinner was fun and at Sobo Bistro. It was with an old friend — one of my first in Boulder — and she’s hiring us for some work. But we got to catch up too and enjoy some good food, so that was nice. Even though I was practically a zombie. She knows me well enough that she understood. And e-mailed me later to check on my health.

The next morning I go to see my long-time miracle-worker/osteopath, Swanee. He has cured two strenuous bouts of post-partum depression and a shoulder ailment that left me unable to wipe my own behind. So let’s suffice it to say that no matter what beliefs you have, I don’t care. He is the man. It had been almost a year since I’d been in, so as I lay down on the table I suddenly felt calm. I was home. As he worked, I could feel the cement block of snot in my cheek and jaw begin to shift. And then he went for my knee (something totally separate, but equally annoying since I’m training) and it started to throb and then stopped. And hasn’t since. Then he says, “I think you need antibiotics. I know you don’t want them, but I really think you need them this time.” When he says, “You need drugs.” I snap to attention. So I was on my way, Rx in hand and another appointment for next week. I simply can’t go another year.

I took Bean in today and he hadn’t seen her since she was a few weeks old. It was quite amazing to see her lying so still and serious while he did his thing. (That little wiggle-squirm can be still after all!) So now I hope we are both on the road to Wellville and I’m even happier that this day is coming to a close. It’s been Hell-ville. The short version: incessant crying, “Ma-Maaaaaa!,” nap at last, website proofing, work e-mails, playing catch up, “Ma-Maaaa!,” more incessant crying, Baby’s here! ☺, lunch, more ‘mistress’ from Bean: pulling out the outlet safety covers/unplugging my laptop/ grabbing everything in sight, Arggghhhh!, Stop!, time for nap, more incessant crying, I try to nap, crying never stops, I give up nap, play recently posted Boo-bah video for bean and get much-needed moment of silence, Miss 6 (now 7) comes home, Bean finally naps for about 5 minutes, now she’s crying again. Ah.

But I digress. The important thing to note is that the Miss 6 birthday at the St. Julien went very well. In spite of the spate of sickness. She was all but vibrating from the anticipation as we packed and headed downtown to check in. We got settled and headed for the pool. Then we gave the girls a mint-scented bubble bath in the huge tub, got Bean to bed and ordered room service. The hubby, Miss 6 and I huddled up on the couch (we had a sweet suite) and ate and watched Miracle, the story of the 1980 US Hockey team. Then Miss 6 went to bed.

We slept surprisingly well considering we were all in the same room. Bean woke up a few times and was standing in her pack-n-play. Miss 6 got up to tend to her and I whisper/yelled, “No! Go back to bed!” The hubby slept through all of this.

Then it was the big day. We woke up and the hubby fetched scones from Spruce Confections. Then they went off for more swimming while Bean and I napped. Once we were all up and done with swimming, it was time to shower and go for birthday brunch. So we checked out and headed to the most favorite restaurant in the world, yes, The Kitchen (Miss 6’s choice). And Hugo was there. Miss 6 (now 7) got a candle with her yogurt panna cotta and all was right with the world. Then, the hubby and Bean headed home while Miss 6 (now 7) and I headed to the ice rink to meet Rock Star (our sitter that we adore). After skating, we went shoe shopping, bought Miss 6 (now 7) some clogs of her choosing, and bid farewell to Rock Star. (She made Miss 6 a pop-up card. Love her.) Miss 6 (now 7) and I rode the bus home and chatted the whole way. She is such a cool kid.

Once home, I helped her change into a beee-yooo-ti-fulll dress complete with crown, sparkly tights and new clogs and she was ready to open her presents. This year, we combined efforts with Mima, Mimi & Pop-pop, and Gigi to produce….an iPod Nano. I had such angst over this gift. “She’s too young.” “We’re spoiling her too much.” Etc. But we got a dock for it (no headphones!) complete with nature sounds for her to sleep to. I pre-loaded it with all of her favs. And she has been thrilled. We so made the right call. She’s a music girl just like her mom.

We decorated her chair, made pizza, played her music, lit candles, and had a family party complete with cake from Tee & Cakes. It was perfect. She went to bed fulfilled and happy. And isn’t that the bottom line? I worried that she’d regret not having a party with all of her friends, etc. – but no. She’s such a big girl. And now, her identity must change along with her age. Courtesy of Bean, she is now…Teeta.

Welcome Teeta. It’s a whole new world.

“When I woke up this morning I had to say to myself, ‘It’s my birthday.’ It felt different.” Miss 6 is growing up. And her mommy’s heart is starting to tinge. WARNING: Tears Ahead.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Ain’t No Reason. Brett Dennen. I don’t know why I say the things I say, but I say them anyway. But love will come set me free.

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Announcing the newest member of the family – and the first one to be born in our native state in quite a few years…Sophie Caroline. All 8 lbs. 13 oz. of her arrived earlier today. (Grumpy face in image two courtesy of Brother Brownnose – or, in this case, Badass. ☺)

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I had no choice but to post this. Seeing as how this is THE ONLY THING that has quieted an inconsolable, RSV-ridden, double-ear-infected Bean in OVER SIX DAYS…so I’m bringin’ sexy back too.

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>In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a soundtrack to my life. And it’s about more than being an extra in an old Ally McBeal episode. Or having an aneurism that makes me see George Michael in my living room. It’s about music defining me as a person.

You see, it all started way back when. When I was but a young pup with parents who were both too young and too dysfunctional to understand that cranking the music at 2 a.m. on a school night just isn’t what you do. And since that particular list of do’s and don’ts continues on from there (ad nauseam), it is best served up in novel form. I will tell you that it isn’t just run-of-the-mill “I had parents who were lenient” stuff. I’ve had more than one friend who’s heard some of my stories tell me that they thought of me when they read Running With Scissors. And again during The Glass Castle. And it’s all but littered throughout with Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. There isn’t a song on that album that I can’t recite with my eyes closed. But only with them closed. Tightly. With a pillow over my head.

That book will burst forth one day. I feel it simmering. But until then, I’ll just blog and add in a song of the day at the end to feed that need.

And make playlists in iTunes. My current fav is called Scenes from a Dysfunctional Childhood. Tonight was its debut with the fam. Miss 6 watched intently as I sang every word to Funeral for a Friend and Me and Bobby McGee. “How do you know all those words, Mommy?” “Well. You can’t help but memorize every word of songs that seep into your psyche.” Now I wonder if those same lyrics will be etched on hers. Even though I know from her blank look that she thinks I’m just certifiable. And will leave it at that. For now.

Since my dad died a few years ago, I find myself suddenly crying. In my car. Driving down the road. And it takes me a few beats to realize why. It’s the song on the radio. I look over and he’s riding beside me. Even if that never happened. Not even once. And we didn’t even like each other very much. (It’s complicated.) But I think that’s what makes our shared love of music that much more poignant. Even though he knew he was dying and refused to pick up the phone to bridge our gap before he was gone, we will remain forever connected by those songs. I guess that counts for something. It’s just hard to not regret that we can’t sing them together and realize we’re doing it. And be happy about it. Just one time.

We went to this place called Ruby’s Diner on Saturday. It’s at the new Twenty-Ninth Street mall. They play all this music from the 40s. And that reminded me of my dad’s dad. And I cried then too.

So I guess you could say that I’ve turned into a sentimental fool. Crying at every song from every era because it reminds me of some piece of my life’s soundtrack. I remember Mima tearing up when she talked about her parents and I always thought it was weird. I didn’t think I’d ever cry over mine. I even called Mima on Sunday to ask her what a “Flat Foot Floogie” is so we could get a good laugh. But look at me. Tearing up when I hear The Happy Wanderer because my Papa used to play it on his old reel-to-reel tape player in his home office. Louis Prima. Maybe Fats Waller too. Now Bean walks around singing “Vald-eee! Vald-ahhh! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” And that just makes me smile. So I guess that means there’s hope for me after all.

Right now I’m listening to Dark Side of the Moon as I write this. What that song brings me back to is the back of a van. The van had rainbow carpet and a kick-ass sound system. Blue pleather seats. A pull up table and refrigerator filled with Budweiser. The side of it had a custom mural. It showed a peaceful, snowy village all snuggled up for the night that reminds me of the view down my street on a winter’s eve. You’re looking at this tranquil scene of lighted windows and smoke from chimneys over the shoulder of a huge, hairy beast — drool coming from his mouth. Yes. You heard me correctly. A monster. Waiting for his moment to attack. Besides being a Wake Forest-educated accountant and psychology major, my dad was an airbrush artist. This particular masterpiece was all his — replicated on both sides of our family vehicle. And it followed me around everywhere for that period of my life. That monster and Pink Floyd. (Do you still wonder why I’m terrified of large, predatory animals? ☺) The good news is that our other car was a Mercedes. Which just reminds me of Janis again. The soundtrack has come full circle.

In current events, we are in big planning mode for Miss 6. You see, she turns 7 next Sunday and has requested a stay at the St. Julien in lieu of a birthday party. So we have to make plans and determine what her new name will be. Miss 6 can’t just become Miss 7. It’s gotta be better. Different. And I just want her to stay 6 forever anyway. I also need to order her cake. (We just love Tee & Cakes. Obsession is under-stating…)

Should Miss 6 stay 6 or should she become Tee-Ta? (Bean-speak for sister.) I just don’t know…And the beat goes on.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: The Happy Wanderer. Louis Prima. I love to go a-wandering along the mountain track…My knapsack on my back…

>So here you have it, our precinct getting out the vote. This is the first time I’ve ever participated in a caucus. And since we’re in Colorado, I thought maybe it would involve a high noon gunslinger or something. But no. Civility ruled. (Well, sort of.) Thanks to newly minted delegate, T Rocks, I have some footage of this groundbreaking event. (I ran for Obama delegate too, but our precinct decided to fill two of the five slots with the two men standing and left the women to fend for themselves. I decided not to take on these seasoned women who successively announced their “27 years of service” or “1 year with Barack” already. They scared me, so it was swift and I quickly admitted defeat. I know when I’m a loser.) I should note that our super site precinct had about 873 people turn out last night. Last election, there were 88 people. Oh. Obama. (At least he took Colorado!)

>”If I was elected President, I’d make it National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day.”
“Oh yea? What day?”
“Everyday. And with lemonade. Then when you get sick of lemonade, you can have apple juice.”

>So what if you think it’s cheesy. The point of this video is to make you realize that you may not have to pack it in and head for Canada/France/England after all…and if you already went, you might even be able to come back. And like it here again. I have to admit that I teared up in spite of myself…

>I just can’t stop myself. I cry I laugh so hard…whatcha think?