Things to do today

1) Save world;
2) LAUNDRY;
3) Bitch out credit card company AGAIN;
4) Check to see if Spanx pants render prepregnancy dress wearable;
5) Deactivate Facebook account. done

I Know, I Know

Almost two weeks without a post! I can't believe it. However, fear not--or, fear greatly, depending on your perspective; I have zero intention of quitting. Various baby-related household projects have occupied my time, of late, but the majority of those projects are winding down.

No one got all the answers to the Travels with Arabella quiz! They are, as follows:

1) d; 2) d; 3) d; 4) c; 5) d; 6) a; 7) b; 8) c.

But I'm a sport, even if I hate sports. Here's your minor prize anyway. Stop complaining; I SAID it was minor:

Baby pants surround Daddy's pants

In other news, I have just weaned the boys, at 6 1/2 months of age. I didn't want to wean this early, but the boys basically lost all interest in nursing. The lovely Teebs sent me a link to a helpful article regarding the rarity of self-weaning before a year, and I've read similar information elsewhere, but, I'm here to tell you, these authors never met my boys. They are reaching for cups and mugs and computers and Us Weekly and pizza (no, I'm not giving them pizza; they're just reaching for it); they have no further use for lying down and eating like a baby. Other than the whole process being heartbreaking, there was virtually no physical discomfort, because the stepdown in nursing was gradual. Usually, of course, I'm a huge fan of free speech, but I'm having a hard enough time with this, and I'm going to invoke my blog-dictatorship rights and delete any comments that are anything other than supportive of my weaning. Now, please tell me I'm not a horrible mother.

I'm currently working on weaning the rest of the world, but it's proving significantly more difficult to get everyone else off my tits, you know? At least my boys latched onto me for nourishment. It seems that the vast majority of the universe likes to latch on just to mess with me.

Untitled

Last night, Ty and I had one of those silly, dime-a-dozen marital arguments. Something on the order of, which of us sleeps less, does more chores, does more for the babies, etc. You know, the kind of debate that Lucy and Ricky ended with a draw, a laugh, and a shared steak with the Mertzes back in the '50's.

But, naturally, at 11:30 pm, it seemed quite serious. I woke up at 5:30 to tend to the babies, and was still vaguely pissed when I turned on the television at eight.

I had forgotten what day it was.

Not "forgotten" forgotten, mind you. It's been on my mind all week, yesterday included. It's something I think about periodically all throughout the year. It usually comes up when I least expect it. I'll see mall footage of a Sbarro's pizzeria, for example, and I'll get a flashback to the shops at the World Trade Center and think to myself, I ate pizza there, and now that place is completely annihilated.

Many stations were running replays of the live footage from that morning, with the simultaneously clear-and-fuzzy commentary that results when human beings mix shock recollection with legend and then try to explain what they're feeling. It was a beautiful, sunny day, the newscaster will say, but it wasn't. It was incredibly humid and hazy, and sweat poured down my forehead as I walked to class in my short-sleeved sweater set and black slacks. For weeks afterwards, New Yorkers jumped every time they heard a siren. This is true.

At this morning's memorial service, a man was recalling his wife, the mother of his children, who had worked in one of the Towers.

I thought of Ty, how he was not yet my husband, or even my betrothed, at that point. How he showed up that morning at my apartment, gray dust all over his suit composed of the ashes of thousands of other peoples' beloveds. How our relationship changed after that, and became more serious. It was clear that our dating life was over. We were grownups.

My sons fussed as I watched the footage. Sage was inconsolable this morning. He wanted a bottle; then he didn't. He wanted a nap, but wouldn't go to sleep. In the background, grim-faced individuals spoke of "anniversary reactions" and read the names of other peoples' baby boys and girls.

Ty kissed me before he left for work. We lingered for a moment.

Between us, all is forgiven.