Does this mean I am a flamer?

I guess I have been watching too many episodes of Queer as Folk, back to back...

Tonight, after my Morris dancing class, I was a trifle peckish and went to my favorite Malaysian restaurant for a bit of satay. I brought a newspaper with me, to do the crossword as I nibbled and to catch up on world news, such as it is. I was seated at a small table near the bar, next to the window, with a romantic single candle in a glass votive. Do ya see where this is going?

I ordered, ate, and settled down with the paper. I was all absorbed in a story about a dishonest funeral parlor director who refused to cremate a body until he was paid in full when I noticed I was cremating my newspaper. Fortunately my boys are two, therefore I don’t panic easily. I crumpled the incinerating page in my hand, dropped it to the floor, and stamped out the fire. The other patrons were silent during this bit of excitement, but started a-buzzing as soon as the fire was out and their dinners were safe.

I had noticed a rather obviously gay group at the bar when I sat down. If their beautiful clothes, perfect hair and handsome faces hadn’t clued me in the following exchange would have:

Obviously gay handsome Man One: Jim honey, that is sooo something you would do!

Obviously gay handsome Man Two: But darling, you know I would have screamed and waved the paper in the air calling for help! Eeek! Eeek!

Me: I guess we all have our inner flamer.

Obviously gay handsome Men as a Group: Ha ha ha ha ha!

Then they told each other stories of how they set their most favorite tea kettles on fire and other harrowing tales. I took my charred bit of news home.

Inner flamer! Ha ha indeed...Emmett would have been so proud of me, keeping the flame buring bright.

Yep, they drive me crazy, but with a gym available, who cares?

It’s funny how life can improve when one really makes one’s priorities clear to oneself. Like many, many of you, I compose in Word, so I can save as I write. (Blogger doesn't save very efficiently.) In MS Word, I had this loooong post all ready to go about my Day from Hell, with a description of how the boys flushed a sock down the toilet and attacked the cat and bit each other and put Play Doh in the cell phone charger (!!) and a blow by blow account of the twenty minute battle over the vacuum cleaner attachment. I decided against posting it.

Y’all know I spent a rough weekend without the DH, and y'all can imagine how difficult it was, but it’s over now. Y’all also know that I have joined a gym, and here's a bit of fresh intelligence: my mother gave me 12 sessions with a personal trainer as an early Christmas present. Yay!! Lately, I have really been utilizing “all that free time” for purely myself; going to the gym, grocery shopping and visiting friends. This means that I am in a much better mood from the endorphins and from the feeling that yes, I really do have a bit of my own thing going on. However, my writing and therefore you, my gentle readers, are suffering as a result. I am more able to deal with the terrible two thing if I have had a good work-out.

This may be worth some screen time: Do any of you have the same experience with two babies who sleep in alternate shifts? It’s pretty irritating at times, but it does mean I get to concentrate on one baby at a time. Why do they do this? I find the suggestion, "Just get them to sleep at the same time" pretty useless. If I could, I would, but I can’t, so leave it. They have their own agenda, perhaps they feel they have to stay up to keep an eye on me?

In the post about That Friday, I had written how Baby B pushed one toddler into a trash can and scratched another one, and after Baby A had a fit because I wouldn’t let him steal a toy giraffe from a 3 month old. (At the time I realized I was trying to make them stay in a social situation they were not ready to experience at the time. In retrospect I see what I must do is respect and understand their needs, yes, but I must also respect my own. hence, the gym membership.) Even though the playgroup started at 9:30, and we were there at 9:25, we left at 9:40. I got them into their coats and out the door. I put them in their stroller, gave them some crackers and some milk, and set out for a walk. Baby A was screaming and carrying on like he was being eviscerated the whole time, perhaps he was tired? He drank his milk, ate his crackers and fell asleep by 9:45. Yep, he WAS tired. Baby B, on the other hand, found the milk, snack and walk combination most refreshing, and perked up like a slug after rain. He yammered and chattered and giggled the entire 60-minute stroll, pointing out trees, cars, school busses and bikes, all objects of great interest, you see. He also said – Cold! as we got to the end of our walk. It was sunny, but a bit windy and only about 45 degrees Fahrenheit. Both boys were wearing all the required winter garments, including socks on their hands. (Recently, Baby B let me know that all the toddlers are doing the sock on the hand thing this season. Apparently, mittens are just soooo half an hour ago.)

We got back to the car and naturally Baby A woke up as I was getting him in his seat. (He only sleeps about 45 to 60 minutes for a nap) He did start the yelling again, but cheese puffs and apple slices soon settled him down, and his brother’s conversation kept him occupied on the way home. They didn’t sleep on the drive, but eventually Baby B took a nap around four in the afternoon.

This resulted in his staying awake until 10:00pm or so, while Baby A, who was tired after a busy day and only having a little morning nap, fell asleep at 8:30. They really must get their little heads together and plan this all out – it can not be pure coincidence! Does anyone else have this experience in common with us?

It's not bizarre, nor am I concerned - they are toddlers, and they are right on track developmentally. They are acting exactly as they should, which doesn’t make it easier to deal with at the time, but it makes it completely normal. Anyone who has a child, and especially those who have two children, will know all about the odd and irritaing little things toddlers get up to. Yes, they are little beasts, yes, they are totally exhausting, and yes, they are terribly charming, and as Bob Harris put it, “They are the most delightful people you’ll ever meet.”

What is also completely normal is my very real need for exercise and mental refreshment. I am so glad it has worked out with the boys in a good school and an inexpensive membership readily available at a gym located five minutes away from that school. The gym is also in the same plaza as a Super Shopping Market, which is Super Convenient. (If it were a Trader Joe's it would be just too perfect to be true, which is why the expression exists and it's not true, natch.) The point of all this, as if I need a point, is that once I decided to take time for me, and me alone, without feeling guilty about it, or apologizing, I felt better in almost every way. True, I am not writing in this blog/journal so much, but since I have the NOMOTC Notebook to work on, as well as my screenplay, I really don’t have that much time to spare anyway. I know that journaling is excellent practice, and that this blog has brought me to the attention of a few editors and has led to a teensy bit of publication (thank you, LP!), so I do plan on keeping it up. However, I shall not be able to post every few days, as I have been, because I am also working on my abs!

Back when the babies were a few months old, and all hell was crashing around me, I used to say - I have an “Instant Family!” Having twins is like getting a magic manic family powder; just add water, and voila! Siblings! Rivalry! Sleepless nights times two! How about some Scotch with that soda water, Mommy? Nowadays, thanks in part to my readers’ comments, thanks in part to my continued exercise habit and also thanks, in a small way, to an argument I had with someone who clearly doesn’t understand my experiences, lifestyle and family support, I see that the re-invention of the wheel is, unfortunately, the only way we new mothers can become mothers. I can see it, and I understand that different mothers have different solutions. Some attachment parent and some CIO; if it's right for your children, and keeps the family happy, it's right for you.

Our culture is not one that allows us to easily see the gory details of parenting, nor does our culture encourage the free and unvarnished exchange of experiences. Say too much, and new mothers or pregnant people think we are lying and/or trying to be scary. Say too little, and one is accused of lying, or hiding the facts. It’s difficult being a mother and way challenging being a mother of twins, and there is not a lot of information out there. (Oh, I know, I know, those glossy magazines have answers, but since I am not interested in making a cupcake bunny, (Baby B can't eat eggs, you see) those publications do not have the answers to the questions I am asking.) Therefore, I plan on keeping going with what I have worked out for myself. I don’t need therapy, I don’t need medication and I don’t need nasty people telling me my choices and opinions make me hateful and crazy and on and on. I am a normal person, with flaws and perfections and stupidity and smarts and warts (well, not really...warts - as if!) like everyone else. If I want to work out five days a week and eat organic chocolate and let my babies sleep in alternate shifts, I will do it. It’s the wheel I have invented for my family, and it’s keeping us rolling along.

C-C-C-Challenges Part One

(An apology to my beloved David Bowie)

The past week has been the most challenging so far in my Mother of Twins career. I was somewhat accustomed to the routines of - we wake up way too early, eat waffles, go out, do something, then we drive home. Afterwards, they nap, I do something, they wake up, crying, I hold them, then we eat (waffles), then do something as a trio until the DH gets home, at which time I go to the gym, or the four of us chase each other around the house, eating waffles until it’s time for bed.

Well, it’s all changed now. Baby A now gets up even earlier than way too early, and yanks on me, yelling, “Mama! Up! Mama! UP! Mama! Up! Mama! Up!” until I comply. If I try and get a little more shuteye; it is only 5:30 after all, he gets all screechy and cross. So I do a Dolly Parton, and stumble outta bed and into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition, and yawn and stretch and try to come to life…WO-rkin’ Five to Nine! What a way to make a livin’! Barely functioning, it’s all takin’ and no givin’…well, that’s not true. Baby A is big on giving me little tight-lipped kisses and big squeezy hugs. (Baby B gives me a headache.)

They are just so darn TWO! It’s bad enough that Baby A gets up at 5:45 and only naps once. What’s worse is that he likes to go to bed at 8:30, and Baby B, who has been a lot nicer these days, but still a little devil, goes to bed around 9:30 or even 10:00. It depends on whether he’s had a two or a three-hour nap, which rarely coincides with his brother’s nap. Yep - Baby A usually sleeps from 11:30 to 1:00 and Baby B can sleep from 2:00 to 4:30. So when does the MOT get to pretend she is a person in her own right, and do a little journaling instead of the teacher/caretaker/clean up fairy/laundry maid/cleaning woman/personal chef/first aid expert? The answer? Never.

Grrr. Any mother who says her children are always perfect is either lying or sedated.

Or both.

(Then one must consider my friend in Tennessee – she works part time and has her son in a day care. Must needs, and all. When she has to do something, or has an appointment, or has a major house cleaning project, the baby stays in the daycare until she is finished and can collect him. It’s not bad way of maintaining some personal time...hey, he’s already there and happy, so what’s another hour or two? She has the right idea.)

I have those three hours three days a week when they are in school. When people ask me, “What are you doing with all that free time?” I always have to stop myself from laughing. Free time, my Aunt Fanny. I drop them off at 9:00. I go grocery shopping, maybe run another errand and go home. Once home I will put away the shopping, feed the cats, sweep/mop if I must, clean the bathroom, put all the “things” in their rightful places, put in laundry/hang out the laundry, and maybe get a little walk, if I have time and it’s not raining. Then I try to answer emails, do some writing and now that I have a piano, I am going to slip in a 30-minute lesson once a week. Then I bathe (if I have a chance), eat (if I have time), and go get them from school by 11:45. It's not difficult to Get Something Done in 2 and a half hours, but it's a real challenge, and allows to time for relaxation. I used to relax at the gym with my spinning classes twice a week in the evenings, but the teacher is no longer able to teach at my old gym. I let my membership expire; if she’s not there, well, I’m not going there either!

The lack of exercise, the general, incessant demands of two two-year olds, and the feeling of the winter coming upon us have the combined effect of making me feel a bit low. However, rather than sinking back into the depression/Mean Reds of my first winter with twins, or the anxiety making cabin feverish second winter, I have made a few changes. Since I am fully aware that a common definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, I have done something different to achieve the desired different results. I bought a piano and joined a gym.

What that means is this – while they are at school, and I have “all that free time”, rather than doing a lot of little things, I am going to commit to doing one big thing twice a week - spinning classes and a workout. I will make appointments, run errands, meet friends and so on one day, and take classes the other two. I will also to go to the gym at least one weekend day, giving me more workouts than I had before. The piano purchase means I will take a lesson a week, once I find a teacher, and will practice as I can. The cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, and general housekeeping/management will just have to be done with the boys, as we used to, before they went to school.

Besides, it’s good for a toddler to help out around the house. They are old enough to put away some laundry, wash a few plastic things in the kitchen sink, put their own toys away and use a sponge and warm water to wash kitchen and bathroom surfaces. It definitely takes longer to have two little pairs of hands dipping into the housekeeping, but I want them to learn how to take care of their personal space and how to respect other people’s space too.

Let’s see how this all works out, with the work-outs and the adjusted use of my “free time”. I am not going to be feverish or Red or mean again this winter, I tell you, and I am making the changes to make that certain.

Stay tuned for more challenges - A Day from Hell is in the works...Preacher Mom, remember the vacuum cleaner attachment?

Sing a song of Sing Sing

My sister and I had a funny little conversation about my twins the other day. We were discussing our children’s mischievousness, and wondering which one of us was more exhausted. Here’s a paraphrased conversational snippet:

DS: Your guys are pretty crazy, but quite different from each other. Baby A is a pretty boy, and seems calm, but he can be a devil. Baby B is openly a devil, and clearly going to spend some time in prison.

Me: Well, both of them are pretty clever. I’d like to think Baby B would wriggle himself out of trouble before he was convicted. You know, he'd be the type to call his roommate from the Academy who is now a police chief, and get out of trouble before the ticket was filed.

DS: No, I think Baby B will do some time. Baby A will be in college and Baby B will be in the big house, har har.

Me: As long as one goes to Princeton and the other to Sing Sing, it’s fine. They are pretty close. Or one baby could attend Columbia; that way I won’t even have to cross the Hudson River, ho ho!

Yes, we are close enough to be able to insult each other’s children and take it in stride.

Tits on a Toad

I went to see my parents over the weekend, while the DH was away for work. He left on Thursday, at 8:00 am, and he was not due back until Sunday, at 8 or 9. Yep, I was flying solo, as The Yellow Wallpaper puts it, for 3 days and 3 nights.

The first night was pretty brutal; we were all tired, I was a bit nervous and Baby A was still wide awake and climbing the walls at 10:00PM. I finally gave up, turned off all the lights, except for one in the bedroom and crashed with Baby B, who had been snoring away like he was sawing down a tree since 8:45. It took Baby A about fifteen minutes to figure out wandering around a darkened house and chattering to himself was boring, and he climbed in with us and fell asleep. (But he was up at 6:00, as usual. Grrrr.)

Friday was a bit better; we had out usual playgroup in the morning, then we went for a walk with some friends. Afterwards we went home, raked some leaves and did our usual bath, dinner, play routine. They were both asleep by 8:30, and I went to bed at 9:00. We only woke up once each.

Therefore, on Saturday, when the three of us rolled out of bed at 6:30, I felt terrific. Which was lucky, because I had a bit of a trying morning. As I mentioned, I went to see my parents on Saturday. My sister had some relatives from Italy staying with her, and she had brought them to my parents’ house to show them a real New England autumn. I wanted to amuse my guys, give myself a little mental respite from being on on on call for the past 24 hours, and my mother wanted to see the twins. So, I did some grocery shopping in the early morning, came home to drop it all off, then carried on their house, which is about 40 minutes drive from my town.

We arrived at 10 or so, and went inside. My mother greeted us as nicely as you could like, but my father, who works hard and gets up early, or should it be, gets up early to work hard? was as cross as two sticks. He had arisen at 4:00 am (which for him is normal, so don’t get all sorry for him – he chooses to do so, and has chosen to do so for the past 30 years) and done some work. Then he came home and took a nap. When I arrived, with my hyper twin toddlers, he had just woken up and was on the computer checking his stocks. I greeted him, as nicely as you like, and got a “Humph” in reply. I was a bit nonplussed, but what with three cups of coffee and about 9 hours sleep, I was equal to it. I gave him some "space", helped my mother set the table for lunch and got the boys settled to play. My sister was due to arrive by 12:30, with her assorted family members in various languages, and we were to have lunch together. She had stayed overnight on Friday, and had gone out with everyone to pick apples in the morning.

Baby A was suffering from a little upset stomach, so I was doing the rice, banana, applesauce diet to help solidify his intestines a bit. He had eaten at 7:00, so by 11:00 I knew he needed another snack. I got the rice warmed up and a banana sliced, and asked my father to lend a hand.

Me: “Daddy, would you give Baby B a ride in this wagon while I feed Baby A some rice? He’s been a bit sick to his stomach, so I’d like to concentrate on him.”
Father: “Why do you have to feed him now? It’s not even 11:00!”
Me: “He’s sick, he’s two years old and he last ate at 7:00. He can’t go more than 4 hours without a bite to eat, and he needs rice for his diarrhea.”
Father: “Oh. Sorry, I can’t.”
Me: “Okay.”
In my mind: “Ooohh, that’s right! Checking the stock market is more critical than helping your own child feed her sick two year old. Silly me.”

HOW-ever, the tongue was bitten and Baby A had some rice to tide him over.

Later, as I was feeding the two of them lunch with my mother; my sister had not yet arrived, and my father was out cutting the grass; I asked my mother why he was being so crabby.
She said he’d had a hard morning, and all the confusion was making him more tired. I asked why he didn’t try to get some more rest, why he didn’t wake up later, and/or why didn’t he take a longer nap? He knows he gets tired, and he knew everyone was coming over, and has known about our visit for the past week. My mother pointed out that he is almost 70 and a bit of a mule. I agreed, we finished our lunch, and I got the boys in the car so we could go to our next social engagement. We had had a longstanding date at the local children’s museum for a book reading at 2:00, and I knew they needed a nap beforehand. Also, I did not want to be in the house when my father got back from his lawn mowing. My mother and I had heard the lawnmower break down, and I thought that would not improve his temper. Therefore, I skedaddled.

I was surprised, but pleased that my father called later to apologize for being grouchy. I was very gracious, if I say so myself. I told him I understood, I too have been tired, and I realize it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for me anymore. I also pointed out that when one is tired and crabby one generally feels put upon by everything and everyone. I also feel as if no-one can possible fathom how exhausted I am. Therefore, Daddy, I can sympathize. He said I was sweet, I agreed, he laughed, and we’ll get together soon.

It’s wonderful for me to see how much better I feel about my situation and myself. I really was a smidgen depressed for that first year and a bit with the twins. Breastfeeding is fantastic and wonderful and great for everyone, but it’s so hard on the mother’s nerves, and that should not be denied! I was constantly drained, mentally and emotionally, as well as physically, and I felt put upon by everything and everyone. I felt as if no one could possible fathom how exhausted I was, and I felt no one understood or cared. Perhaps if I had been blessed with just one baby instead of two, perhaps if they were less rambunctious and less noisy, or perhaps if they had been two girls instead of two boys, perhaps my experience would have been different. Perhaps not! It’s impossible to tell, as interesting as it is to speculate.

There are those who tell me I complained too much in the beginning, to the point of alienating those who might have helped me. Perhaps I did. I was too sunk into myself to know. There are those who tell me I was too dramatic in my description of the horrors and the trials of new motherhood. Perhaps I was - to them – but to me, having twins was like moving to a new town where one constantly gets lost; learning a new job, that is not only difficult, but a bit unpleasant; buying that first house and doing construction on it yourself and getting married, all in the same 6 months. Exhilarating? Yes. Amazing and joyful? Yes. Exhausting, stressful, difficult, emotional and frightening? Absolutely! George? Does this sound familiar?

A good friend recently told me that she too thought I was depressed when we first met. We both agree that the blog/vent, plus the weaning plus the three-day a week daycare/school are all working very well for my mental health. I also know that if I’d had my own dear sister closer than an hour away and my own mother closer than 40 minutes from my house and/or a bunch of buddies from pre-baby days living nearby, I would not have been so isolated and not have caught cabin fever. Or did I catch baby fever? I can really, honestly and truly really relate to my playgroups pals. They are all new in the area, having come from Maine and Wisconsin and Kentucky and California and Washington and all over to do their internships at a big name local hospital. The medical partner’s partners are all in new towns, in new houses, with new babies and need understanding. I am delighted to be there, I feel glad to around! I needed it, and I know what can help.

My point is this; my father was acting all crabby and unreasonable and was being about as useful as tits on a toad. I felt annoyed, of course I did. I went over there with certain needs, which went unmet. However, I could actually see what he was feeling, and knew by his tone of voice that he was pissed at nothing and everything and was super tired. So I understood, gave him space and left as soon as I could. I can’t waste my time with irritable people. I have toddlers to chase!

I have learned from my difficult experiences with staying home, alone, all day, everyday, and nursing twin babies, with no visitors, no family and no friends nearby. I have learned that tired people lash out, I was one in my time. I have learned that when you ask, “Will you help me?” and the reply is, “No, I won’t,” that is an honest reply, and not to be offended. I have been through it, and have the scars to prove it. Literally.

Does this mean I am going to be patient and understanding and gracious from now on? HA HA HA! No way! Um, err, umm, I mean, I hope so, but I might not always feel so well rested and so patient as I was that day. However, I am now much more aware, which, I feel, is a critical step to being more understanding.

Crisco sandwiches and Concealer

I was very happy to see that I have been helpful to Ebony Mommy in assisting her in creating a revolting image to summon every time she feels the urge to eat an Oreo. Read all about her Crisco sandwich and The Gross Out Diet on her blog. Ha ha!!

I hope her children follow her footsteps and copy her healthy eating habits. I know most children like to do what their parents do, for good and for bad. I am friendly with several families that have one vegetarian parent and one meat eater. I have seen the children eating the diet of the parent who is feeding them at the time, without batting an eyelash, as long as they get to eat what Mommy/Daddy is noshing at the time. I also see children copying their parents’ mannerisms and using their catch phrases too. One Daddy I know says, “That’s clever,” when he hears of something, well, clever. I heard his six year old saying it too, and I thought that was just too cute.

In my own home, my little ones like to copy the DH when he uses a screwdriver, or pliers or sandpaper to do some “manly man” project. They also like to dig beside him in the garden. I too have put them to work; at their fancy schmancy Montessori school they have lessons in Practical Life. The October lessons seemed to involve a lot of washing of pumpkins, with brushes and soap and water. This turned out to be a very practical lesson for them to be taught! There was some muddy dust on the siding of my house, from the rotten weather we have suffered through these past few weeks. I wanted to wash it off right away, but didn’t get a chance with the boys underfoot. Then I thought, “Well heck! They like to wash pumpkins, why not siding too?” We each had a bucket of warm water, some dish soap and a sponge, and the three of us attacked the siding. About 20 minutes later, the mud was gone and we were having a great time. I should have thought of that sooner.

I know they like to copy me; during my "practical" chores they want to empty the dishwasher with me (Sure! Just be careful!), stir the soup in the pot (No! Too hot!), put away the groceries (The milk goes in the door, thank you!) and so on. They also love to watch me do my "lily gilding" chores too. I have an extensive tooth brusing ritual that is apparently fascinating. After watching me, mouthes agape for a year or so, they like to “floss” their teeth too. I say - Can I have an Amen? I am also hugely into skin care and moderate makeup; I wear SPF15 everyday (yes, even if it's cloudy) and if I go out I do the mascara, concealer, powder and lipstick thing. They love to hold out their little palms for a dab of skin cream when I put mine on. I have taught them to rub their hands together and pat it evenly to the face. It's the sweetest thing to see! Everyone needs to use SPF everyday too with those holes in the ozone layer and all.

But two-year-old twin boys do not need to wear mascara, lipstick and concealer! The other day I was getting ready to got to a party, so I had the mascara wand in one hand and the tube in the other. Baby B tried to take the tube of Diorshow out of my hand, and I had to give him a dry mascara wand to appease his disappointment. He tried to copy my application technique, and got a little pissed off in his vain attempts. (GET IT?! "Vain" attempts? Heh heh.) So I had to pretend to darken his lashes and then I exclaimed, “Oh, you look fabulous!” He looked in the mirror and smiled like anything.

This morning I was dabbing a bit of concealer on my chin. I have one of those stray hairs that quite obviously does not belong on my face, and I need to tweeze it into submission every now and then. However, I attempted a pre-emptive tweeze, the hair was not long enough to grab properly, even with a dust of powder, and I made a red mark on my face. Hence, the concealer. Both Baby A and Baby B were watching this, and had already put on their Olay SPF 15. Now they wanted some concealer too. I thought, “Ah, a dab of Clinique never hurt a fella,” so I gave them each a teensy bit on a pudgy fingertip. I told them, “Put that wherever you have a blemish.” Baby B patted his onto his upper lip and Baby A stuck his in his ear. Then they both admired the results in the mirror.

My friends tell me they are going to grow up to be metrosexuals. I hope so; I would love them to be fashion designers or something. Of course, it might be unnerving to have my sons critique my skin, hair, makeup and accessories, but we MOTs can take a lot of unnerving, and the rough with the smooth. Just as long as we look fabulous doing it, of course, and if my boys grow up and become Stella McCartney/Derek Lam/Carolina Herrera/Miuccia Prada, I will definately be so! I'll just have to make sure their samples are a size 12, and not a six. They do owe me...

The Moon Calendar

As promised, here is the Moon Calendar, to make your life simpler. I found my first moon calendar when I was living in Atlanta, GA. It was on the counter of a crunchy granola health food vegan bakery/grocery store called Sevananda. Why Sevananda, I don’t know.

At the time the store was on a narrow street in the funky neighborhood of Little Five Points, and rather small. It was nice to shop there because everything was kind of jammed in and squashed around itself to make room. (Now they have moved to a big bright store, still in Little 5, but it’s about 6 blocks and a world away.) On the counter, next to the bulk herbs, and behind the slippery elm throat lozenges was a pile of these cardboard Moon Calendars. They cost $2.50, and had colorful hippy-dippy designs on them.

I got one, and man oh man, did it make my life easier! I used to have to laboriously count days and try to guess when Aunt Flow would next burst into the room and wreck another pair of underwear. Now, with the Moon Calendar I can just glance at it, and say, okay, we are D minus 3, and keep on going.

What you do is this: mark the first day of your cycle by circling the date. Then circle the last day. Draw a line connecting the two circles. Then, you do the same for the subsequent cycles. After two or three you’ll see a pattern, like a wave going across the Calendar. As a rule I am pulled towards the full moon (like most other lunatics...Get it? LUNA-tics?! Heh heh!) My cycle charts diagonally across the moon calendar, getting closer to the full moon each month. On the calendar in the picture I have the full moon highlighted in yellow, the new moon is grey and my cycle highlighted in pink, to make it more clear.

For example, in August, the first day was the 28th, 8 days after the full moon. In September, Day One was the 24, 5 days after the full moon. In October, it was the 21st, 3 days afterwards. Now that I see my pattern, I know that I will have D-Day in November on the 18th or19th, just after the full moon appears. So, once I have put the first cycle on the chart each year, I can tell when I’ll have my menses (a word which makes me snicker for some puerile reason) throughout the year, even up to in December. This is mighty handy when planning a romantic skiing holiday, you see! I just watch for the full moon as my warning sign, or my handy calendar if the weather is being uncooperative.

I have posted the photo of my calendar for 2005, I apologize for it not being madly legible. You may notice that there are no marking for January to June. That is because I was nursing the boys full blast at that point so I still had lactation-induced amenorrhea. The first period was irregular, owing to my poor female parts being in a state of shock I guess. However, we are now weaned, and I am back to the regularly scheduled program; 5 or 6 days in duration, starting between three and seven days after the full moon. Yep, just call me the Queen of Tides.

If you would like a Moon Calendar of your own, and don’t want to look up the Phases of the Moon every year and create an Excel spreadsheet, I will be delighted to send you a copy. Just post a comment that includes your e-mail, and I’ll email you back with a calendar for your personal use. You can manipulate the colors when you have the spreadsheet at home, using the Spilled Paint Can Icon/Fill option on the top tool bar. And, if you so desire, I’ll send you a fresh calendar for 2006 when I make my own. As my faithful friends, family and readers know, I am a lot of things, only one of which is helpful.

Spam-alot

Do you get those silly pseudo sexy spam e-mails too? You know, the ones that promise to make your John Thomas 2 inches longer and your boobs perkier than a Jack Russell terrier puppy on speed? I also get financial spam emails, that recommend stocks and suggest I give out my bank account number, and yes, you can trust me! Humph.

I have noticed a trend in this spam: the “from” is usually the name of a friend, or the name of another e-mail spammer. This is obviously a sly trick to get me to open the email, because I’ll think (or so the spammers hope) “Hey! My friend Bonnie just sent me some advice on booking cheap vacations! Let me click on this link and check it out!” Usually I delete them without a second glance, but a few from/subject combinations have made me laugh out loud.

From: My sister’s name. Subject: Hot Euro Sluts!!!!
Is that because she just came back from a trip to Italy?

From: My friend, Preacher Mom’s name. Subject: Blond Babe in Black Lingerie.
And all along I thought she was considered a strawberry blonde…

From: My DH’s name. Subject: Various Pills, Low Rate, Money Back guarantee!!!!
This from a man who consistently forgets to take his vitamins and allergy medication?

And these ones, which I just saw through in one second:

From: Your Internet Provider. Subject: Password Changed!!
From: Your Internet Provider. Subject: Fees Over-due!!!!
From: Your Internet Provider. Subject: User Violation!!!!
Um, Spammer? My Internet Provider happens to be my Brother in Law. If I were overdue, or needed to change my password, he’d just, um…call me?