This morning in some sort of revelation i realized that i needed to pick up my socks. Both the ones on my children's floors and the figurative ones in my brain.

If i want my heart to feel better, have some joy in my life again, i need to open myself up to it. The thing about being depressed is that it's all too easy to wallow in the muddy waters of despair. To let everything and every step you take be preceeded by an assumption of sadness.

I need to let my steps be preceeded by sunshine.

Right now parker is sitting monkey style on my lap hugging me. He came over and asked me; "are we going to die?"

The depth of emotion he feels and the intellect of his questions blow my mind. But then moments later he comes up with his chorus of poopy talk; "the poop went over the mountain...poop, poop, poop."

He is what i am thinking of when i think of sunshine. This little bundle of joy and anger, frustration and giggles.

I don't really watch television. I have my favourite shows - most of which are cable only, once yearly things, weeds, huff (cancelled?), the sopranos...

Shane has been getting in the habit of watching tv while the kids are still up, a habit which i glare at. Anyway, tonight he and tristan were watching south park when i hear tristan ask;

"what's sodomy?"

Yes. I dare you to answer that one for a nine year old.

Anyway. A long time ago i got a lovely email from a fellow asking me if i'd read a book (about dogs) and then , if i wanted, tell my readers about it. By now i'm sure you've heard about it because amy wrote about it, but because the proceeds go towards the dogs (and cats) i'm all over it.

Here's my dog:

So, the book is Duke's Tails - Duke Finds A Home.

I have a bunch of copies to giveaway. And i really want to do this. So, send me your address, by email and i'll send you the book, plus i'll add a donation to the canadian SPCA to match it.

The one side effect of the de-pprexor i hadn't counted on was the constipation. Oh my good god.

Normally, meaning my entire life up until this point, i have been one of those irritable bowel types. It's my natural red-headedness. It makes me weak and sensitive to all the rigors of life, particularly all the food in the world that is good and delicious. Especially the wine and the cheese. Being stubborn, and red-headed, i have always eaten what i wanted and felt the burden of my thick headedness in the bathroom every morning. Several times.

But, in the past two weeks all that has changed. I feel a little heavy with it, literally. I feel like the characters in that Spalding Gray story who go to russia and don't realize that all the coffee is decaf and can't figure out why they just can't take a shit in the morning.

But, alas, the drug company promises me that this too shall pass. In the meantime i will keep up with my high fibre, sprouted wheat diet and hope for the best.

I have been keeping myself very busy. Busy has seemed to help. School starts in one week. One week, and i'm terrified. Although in many ways this has been the summer of my undoing, it has also been the summer that was.

The summer that i left my family for the first time, the summer that i accepted my craziness and decided to do something about it. The end of summer means the beginning of the long lonely winter.

I have committed to the masters swim club and many long mornings with just parker. And, my god, have i told you lately how much i love him.

I am feeling? Better? I'm not really sure. The last time i tried to take any kind of anti-depressants i remember a distinct out of body sensation that i couldn't stand. This time, a whole new breed of drugs. After the first week, which really sucked, i am now feeling a little more like myself. A little bit foggy during the days and wide awake at night. Even when i sleep, my mind is racing with colours and thoughts. Bright spots that keep me awake all night.

I'm also a little obsessed with eating. I open the fridge at frequent intervals and can't think about eating anything. As a result my fridge is empty. My poor kids. Tonight we had refried beans and cheese on sprouted wheat tortillas. They were thrilled. I haven't been so disgusted by food since pregnancy, but even then i could keep on eating because, you know, the baby.

Anyway, i think i've entered a new stage of side effects. A little manic, yet not sad! Enjoy.

We spent saturday at our local country fair. It was an awesome day. There were no rides, no candy floss and no midway. There was a little parade led by a bagpipe band and followed by several community children on their decorated bicycles. All the kids got ribbons. Eliza one first prize for her fairy theme and tristan came second overall (toby and parker didn't enter.) Tristan and toby both made posters to advertise the fair that were displayed in local shops over the past few weeks. They both won huge ribbons for that as well.

The rest of the fair consisted of local booths pleading for the preservation of our little country village, the volunteer firefighters and a few local wares. Then there was the main attraction - all the competitions; everything from largest zuchini to largest dog and all the 4H animals and crafts in between.

I love where i live. Despite the long, wet winter and the lack of amenities there isn't another place i would rather be.

Three years ago, when i was pregnant out to here with parker, shane and i decided on a whim to drive up here from victoria to look at an open house we saw in a private homesellers paper. Our home in victoria was one we neither loved nor hated. It was close to town and suited us fine. We just never felt a sense of home or community no matter how hard we tried. The housing market in victoria was on a major upswing and we knew that our home was worth, at least, $100,000 more than we had purchased it for two years prior.

The first house we looked at up here in the country was okay, surprising in how much we could get for our dollar, but not good enough to sacrifice the city. Our interest was perked though so we drove around a little till we found another open house. From the moment we drove into our driveway we both knew that we had found our home.

It took awhile and a turned down offer till we took a risk and made a "no subjects" offer on this house. We put our old house on the market five days before parker was born and had three offers within a couple of days. I signed the papers while still in the hospital. We bought this house and acreage for far less than we sold our other one for. We left the city behind when parker was six weeks old.

In three weeks he will be three years old.

I've felt better before, but i've felt worse too. Tomorrow i double my dosage. I'm a little nervous about that as i still have these annoying aches in my head.

My heart is a little lower today. I lost five pounds this week. Not that that would be so annoying, except that i know i would feel a little better, a little less queasy and tired if i could eat.

I took the kids out shopping for back-to-school supplies today. I always try and make these milestone, turning point events, special in some way. In a week and a half eliza will start kindergarten. Tristan will be in grade four and toby in grade 1/2. Eliza has never been away from me before because of her peanut/tree nut allergies. This is a momentous thing for our little family.

She's more than a little nervous. I was too, until effexor obliterated many emotions from my brain. Now, i'm just anxious that i haven't done all the things i have to to get the school ready for her. She picked out her first backpack (strawberry shortcake), lunchbox (tinkerbell) and pencil case (disney princess). My kids have never seen any disney movies because i hate them, the movies - not my kids, so her choices were really based on what was prettiest and pinkest. And i think, fingers crossed, she's getting excited and is going to make it through this ordeal.

Parker insisted that he was going to school too ( he's not) and ended up with a "cars" backpack and lunchbag and a backyardigans pencil case. He kept saying "i'm ready to go to school mommy! without you!" When i explained to him that he would go to preschool and not to his brother and sisters school he pouted his lip and asked "what about A?"

A. is the principal at the kids school and their swim teacher. They adore him and apparently it was more important to parker that he be there than any other member of his family.

This really set parker off and as i was trying to get him into his carseat he lunged forward and bit me on the shoulder drawing blood and pulled out a big chunk of my hair all the while yelling "Dumb mommy! I don't love you!"

Normally i would let this behaviour slide off my shoulders. But, at that moment, i had had enough of fighting this week. Enough of doing my best. Just wishing that my best could be easier. That i could laugh at parker's craziness like i used to. Sad that he hurt me so much. And for the first time all week i started to cry.

I climbed into the drivers seat, took a deep breath and turned around to see the pale and worried face of my beautiful oldest daughter, tristan. She knows. She knows something is wrong. She knows when i need to sleep for an hour or more every afternoon and pay her a toonie to play with parker and lizey. When at dinner i eat nothing and walk away sadly when nobody eats what i make and all they do is complain. When all the things i used to laugh about, or shrug off make me turn away now.

I took them all out for japanese. All of our favourite. We had sushi and tempura and some cheers with icy waters to the beginning of another school year and the end of a summer full of lots of adventures.

My poor little parker is sick with the stomach flu.

As silly as it sounds i'm actually a little relieved. He needs me and i need him to need me. I'm still stinging from his anger at me for being less than perfect lately.

I knew as soon as i crawled into bed with him last night that he wasn't well. Aside from his fever i could smell the ketones on his breath. After he was sick i held him and rocked him. He would wake up every few minutes or so and ask me to sing him the "dumptruck song." A song that i change a little every time, but usually is sung to the tune of "itsy bitsy spider" and involves a construction site theme.

And so, i am actually feeling a little better.

The thing about changing your brain chemistry, which is exactly what i'm doing, is that your body fights it with everything it's got.

A friend asked me today how i was feeling, "i'm fine" i said. I really didn't know what to say, how to answer that question.

My brain is on fire and shooting me every second with little jolts of pain. I'm overwhelmed by every little thing in my life. All the little things that i have managed to keep together that make this family work. Shane came home tonight looking for dinner. I had nothing, had thought of nothing and had only managed to put the coffee on for myself for the morning. Because at least i have that. I have coffee.

The kids and i were wandering through my friends yard and exploring the woods in search of deer or some other adventure to fill these last, lazy days of summer. The grass was overgrown. Overgrown in a way that i love, not a backyard left to it's own devices by half-hazard gardening, but a backyard full of childhood freedom. A backyard that you could sit in and enjoy the laughter of kids romping through the tall grass.

As i was thinking how much i loved this backyard i realized that was it. That is how i am feeling. I was only thinking how perfect it was, not really feeling like i was even there.

I'm not liking this. I feel like some stepford wife project.

The idea of changing even the smallest little bit of who i am freaks me out. The way my head hurts and all my body wants to do is sleep, not even sleep, just lay comatose in my bed while i listen to toby and eliza play all the little games they have ritualized into their bedtime routine and parker snores softly beside me.

I guess that is the answer to "how are you?"

Continue reading "wiped out" »

I'm feeling like the little engine that could.

"I think i can (feel this crappy) for awhile longer
I hope i can (survive these crappy side effects) for awhile longer
I know i can (do this for me and the kids) until i feel better."

Luckily my life has been incredibly busy with general work for school, kids getting ready for school and trying to keep up with housework, that i have managed to stay focused, upright and awake for most of the day.

This afternoon parker asked me to play in the sand with him. All i could do was pull up a chair and stare at him moving pinecones and little hills of sand from backhoe to dumptruck and back again and admire his little banter he had going on between the dueling mighty machines.

They know something is amiss. It's not that anything is that different. We are still doing all the same fun things, going to all the amazing places our island has to offer - it's just that i'm only with them physically. Not pointing out every animal we see, picking up the frogs and dead snakes to inspect. Simply along for the ride.

When i put parker to bed tonight he called me "dumb mommy." His words stung so bad. A little piece of my heart floated away.

Oh what a weekend i have had, full of many annoyances and even, some laughter and tickle contests.

Things took a slight turn for the worse this afternoon when toby came screaming in the house "RATS! RATS! EVERYWHERE!"

Being very vermin-opposed shane and i hesitantly, yet immediately, got the story out of him. Apparently the large garden box i have outside the chicken coop where i store tarps, cleaning stuff and, most recently and brilliantly, hay for the nesting boxes, has become home to a very large family of rats.

Shane and i went to check it out and standing from a good distance with a broomstick in hand we opened the lid. And! RATS!! EVERYWHERE! They scurried deep within the box when we opened it, but we saw several, definitely more than a few. I leaned in a little closer to see if i could see anymore (why? why did i do that?) and one jumped out. Right at me! I screamed so loud and so much adrenaline shot through me that i pulled the muscles all up and down my sides.

That was fun.

Annoying things i have noticed this weekend but the drug companies assure me are normal:

It's funny how when people start to hear that you're a little crazy they have two reactions. First, they shower you with warmth and support; or two, they back slowly away from you and start turning down playdates with your kids.

"is it me, do i smell like sadness and neglect?"

Actually, i have noticed that i do smell. I smell funky when i take medicine. My body hates it.

I went back to my doctor today. My thyroid is normal, my iron alarmingly low - but to be expected for a woman who has had Lactational Amenorrhea for 8 years. Effexor is a go. Doubling the dosage after seven days and then again after two weeks if needed.

I'm totally freaked out. The clonazepam has been nice, but kind of unhelpful. I feel calmly depressed most of the time. If anything it intensifies my sadness because i don't have to deal with the anxiety.

I'm having a hard time finding words tonight. I am having trouble talking to the people who want to talk to me, to help me, because i am so uncomfortable talking. Trying to explain it.

I am okay.

I am dealing with this in the best way i can. I am doing everything i can to keep on being a good mother, to get back to the place where i was an excellent mother. I need space and time from the people who have expectations of me. I need to hide in my bed at times, to cuddle with my kids a little bit more, to let my husband love me and worry about me.

Mostly, and hardest of all, i have to keep living my life. Doing all the things i've always done. But, i also know, that keeping on doing those things will help me to feel better.

I hope.

We went camping on a little island called Thetis. A little island where the first thing you see as you drive off the ferry is a sign that says "no camping on thetis island." We, being in the know, had access to this little private campsite with eight sights along 14 acres of waterfront. It was perfect.

It was everything that i needed. From the moment i arrived i let everything else go. I was happy to just be. Be in the moment. Forget about all the things that are making me feel sad.

It was a magical four days. I cried when we got home. Cried for the things i have to deal with. Cried because i just wanted to stay on that island where life was easy and simple.

I'm asking for a blogging hall pass.

I'm going camping until thursday. A little sun, a little beach, a little friendship.

I don't have much to say. I feel a little naked. I am not taking the effexor yet. I am waiting for some thyroid tests to come back and also to wait until i am back in my home. So far?

The clonazepam is settling down my manic head and anxiety ridden days. I already find i'm getting headaches when i don't take it.

Shane has gone from worried to mad. Just like that. I understand. He was mad way back then. Mad that we have to deal with this.

Really, i'm hoping that better feels better than this and hoping for lots of this

We are going to a very small gulf coast island, camping right in the sand.

See you thursday.
Thanks so much for all the email and stuff...

jess
xxoo

I went to the doctor today. If you knew me you'd know what a huge deal that is in itself. I hired a babysitter, which i can't afford, so that i could go alone. I have been unwell for awhile. Unwell in a way that i can't talk to people about because i am so terrified of being judged. I have been slowly seeping into this pit of despair and anxiety. You may have noticed i am a train wreck waiting to happen.

Twelve years ago i was thrown into a pit of despair that was so complete that it has made me hesitate before every step i have taken since. At the end of that horrible time in my life i ended up in a local mental hospital because of a purposeful overdose on prescrition medicine. My despair was so consuming that while waiting in my doctors office i poured through his "Compendium of Pharmaceuticals" so that i could determine the exact lethal dose of all the medications i was taking. Instead of taking the medicine that would make me better i hoarded it until i had the right amount. The love and fear of my future husband saved my life.

Why am i bringing this up now? Lately i have been feeling myself teetering on the brink of "okay" and "not okay." I've had panic attacks and days on end of anxiety and crushing depression that ebbs and flows. More recently i have felt my brain alive with searing pain and prickly energy. A feeling that terrifies me. I have been staying up late, my mind racing with thoughts. Even as i lay in bed, hoping for sleep, my brain is obsessively writing blog posts.

I can barely bring myself to face each day. The kids have been left to their own devices, in terms of entertainment, which all too often is television or computer. I have been less of a parent, more of a dazed and confused supervisor. I have though that it would be easier to just not be here.

And i look at my children. I feel how much i love them. They are everything to me. The thought of being this kind of mother tears my heart out.

And that is why i went to the doctor today.

I was a mess in that doctors office. A loose cannon of anxiety, guilt and worry. I hate talking about my past. I am ashamed of what happened to me. I am desperate for someone to help me make sure it doesn't happen again. I am scared of being judged. I am scared of being a bad mother. I am scared of losing my children.

I hate medicine. I hate that it makes me not feel like myself. I am scared to be happy and normal. Who am i then? My whole identity is being shy and child-like. More at ease with children than adults. I think i like being sad - it makes for such interesting thoughts. I don't know how to be happy for long periods of time. I know how to feel love and compassion. I know how to have fun. I know how to self-medicate. I know that it's a problem when i am looking at the clock wondering when is an acceptable hour to have a glass of wine, knowing that it is never acceptable to drink alone.

He asked me if anything had happened. I spoke loosely of weaning parker and wondering about the change in hormones after so many years of gestating and nursing. I couldn't tell him about my blog and how it changed my whole world, in relation to my family, a few moths ago. How can you talk about this and not appear a fool.

And so?

And so, i am sitting here with my brand new prescriptions. One for Effexor and one for Clonazepam. I have never taken either before, but after a long discussion of all the drugs i've tried in the past and even talking about my fears of withdrawal and addiction, these are the two that i will try.

I guess i am inviting you along for the rest of the ride. I may never have another thing to say. I hope i am no longer a train wreck. I hope i can be as happy as i was a few years ago.

Sometime over the winter shane made a guest post that was all about my boobs. I can tell you that several people found it offensive. My bloglines subscriptions dropped by 1/4. It was also my most popular post ever in terms of comments.

His obsession with my post-lactating breasts has neither waxed nor waned. Last night he was trying to coax me out of my bra. I have taken off my bra for him once. The jostling and jiggling that followed lowered my self-esteem enough that i have not removed it again since.

In the middle of our giggling wrestle we both noticed something.

him: "you're kind of struggling to breathe, are you okay?"

me: (feeling like he's sitting on my chest) "yes, yes, i'm okay."

him: "oh my god! you're having a panic attack aren't you! You're having a panic attack cause i want to see your boobs!"

Despite my past complaints about attachment parenting i am dreading the end to my little family bed. There was a period of time when we had two queen sized mattresses on our bedroom floor with five of us sharing - that was a little too much for my claustrophobic tendencies. But, now that we are down to a normal bed with our last little baby sleeping between us i am in co-sleeping bliss.

I have been lucky with bedtimes because as the (formerly) nursing mother i had the baby all to myself. Shane put the other kids to bed. Somehow i have held on to this routine. Now that parker is in that funky needing a nap, but not really needing a nap stage, on the days he does nap it can take an hour or more after stories for him to fall asleep. On nights when i have a meeting i freely let him nap his heart out during the day because i know i won't have to deal with the extra long routine.

Mostly though, we climb into bed, read a few books and i sing him a few songs while tickling his back and he drifts quickly and sweetly into sleep. I often lay with him a few extra minutes just to breathe in his still sweet toddler breath and study his little face, trying desperately to hold onto all the little toddler nuances. The still turned up nose, the chubby cheeks, the open-mouth breathing. Last children are so bittersweet. Although i would like to have time alone in bed with shane, i find myself discouraging the big boy bed we bought parker at christmas that sits unused beside ours.

Often, in the moments between wakefulness and sleep parker and i whisper sweet nothings to each other. I kiss him and tell him how much i love him. That he is my baby. He always answers the same:

"But mom, i'm a little big boy."

"yes you are. but you're my baby too."

"i love me mom."

"i love you too."

This year parker has spent many afternoons playing with older boys. He's even had a few over for "playdates." Tonight as i was putting him to bed he told me he wanted to have a sleepover with roman, his favourite eleven year old.

"but where will you sleep?"

"i'll sleep with his mom and dad."

I don't ever want this to end. This parenting babies and toddlers and preschoolers too. All of it. It goes by so fast.

I love animals. Always have. When i was young i dreamed of being a veterinarian. Those hopes were squashed by my complete lack of logical thinking and ability to pass biology 12.

Any romantic notion i had of being vet. have been trampled by my friends the large animal and small animal veterinarians. I could tell you some stories, like the cow that had to be put down so they shot it in the head in the barn in the evening and when they came back in the morning it was out grazing in the fields.

This afternoon we attended a "farm family picnic" at our friends dairy farm. It was a lovely evening, out in the fields with hayrides, cow pie tossing and obstacle courses. Did you know that calves will suck on your hand if given the opportunity? It is like a giant sandpaper hoover - full of slimy drool.

As we were leaving our friends called us back because one of the cows was about to deliver a baby. We watched as she pushed and moaned. It was absolutely incredible. The calf came out front legs first, followed by a tongue sticking out and a little black snout. From start to finish it took about thirty minutes. It was a magical experience for me. Brought me back to my own births; the pain, the joy.

It was the perfect thing to pull me out of my slump and show me once again the incredible gift of life and children.

I'll admit before i say another word that it is late at night. It is late at night and i've been staying up way too late.

I feel so sad and lonely since i got home. I felt sad and lonely when i was away too.

It's worse now. I'm struggling with so many emotions in my head. I'm here, back in my life. And i don't want to be. I don't want to be a mom right now. I know it's terrible. I just want to be alone. To wallow in my misery for awhile. To let it be mine.

When i am here i have no options, no choices. I have to live this life that i have chosen.

Everybody posted about how much they missed their kids. I didn't miss mine. I love them. I tangle them with kisses all day. Trying to embrace and feel, really feel, the love that breaks my heart. Yet somehow, between them and me. I don't know.

I guess i'm sad.

Things i love and wanted to share.

First off:

Awesome!

• My Mom's Blog by Thoroughly Modern Millie
Millie spoke at the keynote address at blogher on "how is your blog changing your world?" She is amazing, cute and charming, oh and 81! I want to scoop her up and put her in my purse (except it's a diaper bag.)
• the adventures of leelo and his potty-mouthed mom.
I got a leelo sticker at blogher. I love this blog.
• the kilowatthour
She's a med student. She's awesome. period.
• benjy ferree
What's not to love? Go listen.
• the naked ledger
Other people's money. Watching it being spent.
• blogburst
I have been on the cover of the Life section of The Statesman four times this week. So awesome.
• 60bugs
My own personal drowninginkids shirt, plus "a is for awesome" for parker and "w is for whatever" for eliza. So perfect and debbie is the best, most generous person ever.
• yogabeans!
New post today with more barbie!
• vox!
Want an invite? I have three two.

Nice weekend everybody.

Last thursday night i was sitting beside a lovely pool, surrounded by palm trees and feeling like i had finally, found, some friends. Some parents who could sit and listen to me tell my story about my oldest son. My child who has filled me with so much joy and happiness, and grief and regret. My toby.

Although my weekend in san jose was filled with meeting wonderful, fun, intelligent women, the conversation i had that night will always be the highlight of the weekend for me. Because i felt okay to talk about how difficult it has been. How hard it is to spend so much money on one of your children, on their therapy, and feel lost in a system without a diagnosis that stands up to any governmental criteria.

Toby is a big question mark. When i got off the plane and greeted my children i was struck by toby. At how bad his speech is. When i am with him everyday it becomes so easy to lull myself into believing that he is getting better. That he sounds like all the other kids. But, for the first time, i was away from him. And with the distance of time i was grief stricken to really hear how bad his speech is.

And then i watched him while we were in vancouver. How he was constantly berated by other adults for being too loud, too rough, too much.

And so now, today, i am back at home. And i will follow the advice of some new friends and find him a diagnosis that will help him, help us, to get every single bit of help we can.

I'm not sure if it's the combined effects of too much travel in a seven day period or i really am a freaking hick, but i feel lost in these big city shoes.

Since sunday i have been in san jose, portland, seattle, victoria, home and, now, vancouver. I do know that living out of a suitcase; however sexy it may sound, is, in reality, a boner of a deal. Some kind of
viagra enhanced, adrenaline fueled, hazy headed nightmare.

I grew up in vancouver. A vancouver that was all at once laid back, laissez faire and comfortable. My vancouver disappeared a million or so people ago. Now it is all big city. Vancouver is what i thought going to san jose would be like; the people are all at once perfectly polished, poised and perfect. (I was wrong about the people at blogher, they were just people, people you'd like to know.)

I am laid back, unpolished and prone to curse on command, or injury. This morning i proudly flaunted my new profanity, motherfucker, when i stubbed my recently broken baby toe on my mother's weights. My born again brother was all at once shocked and proud of his baby sister and
her verbosity.

I'm not sure if it's shyness or insecurity that makes me so uncomfortable in my own skin, but i do know that it is accentuated tenfold when i am not in my home.

In my home my kids can be themselves. When we are not at home i am acutely aware of how loud we are. How the five of us take up every single available sound wave in a chorus of tone deaf, speech impaired excitement. We are always turned up to eleven. Excited, happy, mad, sad - all felt independent of each other, but expressed simultaneously.

In a comedy of errors i am at my parents house and unable to post because i banned their IP address a few months ago. (shane is posting this for me via email.) I am visiting my brother who is in from
sweden with his own internet love story.

As i try and re-assimilate into the land of real people and real time, as opposed to sleep deprived california time, my body is telling me all the ways in which i have abused it. I'm pretty sure i left my liver in california. Also, the whole time i was there i thought i was allergic to my new sephora make-up. My eyes were constantly red and watering. As it turns out this country girl can't handle a little pollution. Kind of goes hand-in-hand with my despair over the lack of recycling at the conference. I kept telling people "it is sooo bad..." Nobody really seemed to care. Stupid canadians and their tree-hugginess.

Anyways. Eliza is sick again. Wheezy and coughing. I was thinking the other day how this could be my year without stays in the pediatric unit. I should never have thought that. I should have suppressed any little glimmer of hope. It's bad karma.

She has started her massive dose of steroids and once again i worry about her growth, her future and hope to get through tonight. I don't want to do this in a city that is not my own. A hospital that is not
my own. Not the place where my children were born and the halls speak volumes to me in good memories. Memories of pacing the halls waiting for babies to be born, shuffling to make tea in that postnatal limp, bringing babies home all smiles and anticipation for the future.

It's a little easier to be in a place like that with sick children.

I think i'm about done with the instant messaging blogher wrap, but i'm not done with my endless ruminations because that is what i do. Think and think till it kills me.

I'm still trying to decompress and deal with the assault of emotion i felt this past weekend. As a note to husbands coming home to a messy house and seven loads of laundry and grumpy kids is a little overwhelming.

Anyway, After a very bumpy start where i literally walked through the hotel crying, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes, to meeting several amazing women and all the others i've talked about already and the ones i haven't, it has left me bereft of tears.

Tomorrow, for some unknown reason, i am off to vancouver to see my family who wish that blogging didn't exist.

In the meantime please picture me crying in san jose listening to this song that shane left on my computer for me to listen to while on my trip (he wrote it.) Oh my god i love my husband.