tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51003929372245549442012-02-15T09:53:00.236-05:00debbebluenoreply@blogger.comBlogger5281100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-46810468650991984192012-02-03T22:48:00.001-05:002012-02-03T22:50:19.503-05:00

Two times within the last 3 weeks I have seen a woman at a playspace that I wholly and completely have never met in any other context. She is seemingly friendly, attractive and competent. I see her initiate conversations and quasi interact with strangers within the same space. Both times she stared daggers at me, then aloofly looked away when I looked back. While she was seated, my son toddled up

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-66308290322314221422011-12-23T19:32:00.004-05:002011-12-23T20:58:29.236-05:00

I love and I mean love getting Christmas cards. I want to see your kids smiling, in knickers, with bows. Show me taffeta, mall Santa. Spread your glitter and cheer, beckon me closer with your tiny print and your gay suggestions for frivolity in the new year. I LOVE Christmas Cards. I love Christmas letters. No one does them anymore but good lord how I love the chatty, newsy letters with tidbits

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-48778628317807067732011-12-23T19:23:00.000-05:002011-12-23T19:23:58.855-05:00

2011 I am done with you, and you of me. I am sick of you, and you of me. I am tired of you, and you of me. and I'd like to move on. Will we then? Part as friends? Take it as a growing year? Its not you it's me? Sounds like a plan.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-27793180877212458662011-12-23T08:19:00.002-05:002011-12-23T08:21:51.220-05:00

I'll admit I seem discouraged. Depressed even. Perhaps ungrateful. Again, we go back to "first world problems". Is something truly wrong? No. Certainly not. I think perhaps I'm just... dare I say? Lonely. Really. Amidst the daily interactions, the interplay of social networking, the hustle and bustle of errands, chores, and minutia...I'm missing...intimacy. I'm missing connecting to people. Good

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-13673446650213298092011-12-21T01:45:00.001-05:002011-12-21T01:47:49.075-05:00

Oh blogger. I only turn to you in times of need. Years from now, my children will (may) look back on these writings and think "wtf Ma, did we ever DO anything??? Didnt you ever write about the good days?" Assume the days are good. I only write when they are bad. Mommy was so Morose. Here's what I miss: I miss walking. I miss the feeling of striding so long that I felt like I might break

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-11725517601164684752011-12-13T14:41:00.001-05:002011-12-13T14:45:45.406-05:00

Ive said it to my girlfriend a thousand times. I have the confidence of a much more attractive woman. Which is true. I make direct eye contact, I smile broadly, I laugh readily, I lean forward, I may even touch your arm. I find something to admire, not to cheat or to be false, but because I truly find something admirable in everyone. Like a beacon, or a shiny penny. Not to say I see the good in

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-37155778322043213202011-11-18T19:44:00.001-05:002011-11-18T19:44:47.012-05:00

as it turns out, i hate other peoples kids. go figure. god really knows what he's doing, creating that maternal bond and all.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-71619624109672418372011-11-05T22:39:00.000-04:002011-11-05T22:39:55.172-04:00

3 weeks of yoga, 3 times a week. Felt great. "That" time of the month, then strep. then Halloween. Puffy? You betcha. And not in a pdiddy way. 10 years ago my new years resolution was to lose weight, and have more fun. Is it possible that I'm wishing for the same thing. trite.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-10353999887897894452011-11-04T16:19:00.000-04:002011-11-04T16:19:43.368-04:00

Postcards from Today... Dear Husband, You're a grown ass man, empty your goddamn pockets. Love, Wife Dear Husband, While I appreciate your taking Girl Child out in the snow, tying the decorative ties into a wet knot under her chin then letting it dry tied was not as inspired. Love, Wife Dear Husband, Your sons are exactly like you. They cannot stand to see a female sleep. Love, Wife Dear

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-74476597237446889822011-11-01T22:48:00.002-04:002011-11-01T22:50:44.131-04:00

"Everything counts when your building a house (made) of cards." Random Brady, circa 1970. For a minute there, it was touch and go. I'm not sure how to explain it. One day we had it, the next, I was hiding in the dark behind a Home Depot moving box with my husband opening and closing doors thinking I had thrown myself into the lake. I.Kid.You.Not. It wasn't worth killing myself over, I wasn't

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-30676326923711690902011-11-01T22:13:00.001-04:002011-11-01T22:17:59.643-04:00

I had a pop up playdate the other day. The kind of thing where one mom says to another "We should get together..." and instead of saying "We Should" I said "Sure, what are you doing right now?" It worked out fine. Very fine in fact. Almost perfectly. The mom was loquacious, interesting, laid back, funny, articulate. The girls got on, I was quasi relaxed (once I put behind me the idea that I was

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-2423765754060858632011-10-14T12:47:00.002-04:002011-10-14T12:47:51.850-04:00

You know that Kenny Rogers song "You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille" where Lucille is supposed to be the bad guy? The older I get the less I blame Lucille...

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-5577690661222541822011-10-12T22:57:00.002-04:002011-10-12T22:57:20.471-04:00

DIET LOG: There I was. Making IT happen. I was at the tot park NAILING it with 3 kids. Snacks, juice, wipes. I had it. Kids running around having fun, I was doin' it. Babies getting trampled on by 19 month olds, meh - like water off my back. Until my wee Teddy started wailing to beat the band. Screaming, crying, lips quivering staring out the fence at the retreating back of an exiting mom. "OMG,

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-49879110092881399642011-04-09T01:45:00.001-04:002011-04-09T01:47:33.745-04:00

Mired in the hellhole that is my daily life, tonight, at 125am, trying valiantly to impose order. Moving a scant 9 weeks from now to a home we have not yet identified, with 5 years of stuff, tenants moving in, a honey-do list 10 items long, I bend the toys to my will. My sleepless Teddy is on the floor next to me, the real twins, Ellie and James lay upstairs, slumbering with Daddy, that trio of

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-48198743743815043702011-03-16T10:03:00.001-04:002011-03-16T10:03:43.953-04:00

what passes for excitement in our house: my husband calls me from florida. vibrantly enthusiastic. "what's up?" Him: "I love the gps on this thing..." His new cell phone. "I forgot to pack deodorant, tshirts and razors. Basically everything. It's taking me to Target. It found a Costco.." me: "Awesome" up to me knees in shit, stress and diapers, hands in the sink. "that's awesome" absently. Him:

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-66880219442299552382011-03-15T20:06:00.000-04:002011-03-15T20:06:40.172-04:00

...it's absolute bullshit to teach toddlers to put on their jackets by laying the jacket on the floor and then flipping it overhead. Complete total utter disrespect for the clothes.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-46973225859697408842011-03-15T20:05:00.004-04:002011-03-15T20:11:18.831-04:00

Dear WaMB, thank you so much for stopping to talk today. How I appreciate dropping my daughter off at preschool with a scant three hours to myself, heroically doing a Market Basket run versus PeaPod simply to prove that I can, and spending an inordinate amount of time politely listening to you. Oh how I longed, when I left my bed this morning, to run into you with your unsolicited advice! And

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-59873418762355652332011-02-28T00:50:00.012-05:002011-02-28T07:30:10.302-05:00

Somewhere on the internet there is a picture of me. There’s a picture of Heather. We are sitting in a window, backlit, quasi faceless. It’s a Saturday afternoon, sometime after noon, sometime prior to 2003, definitely before we were married, before we had kids, before we had any idea that someday, someday years later, one or both of us at varying times, would miss – randomly yet intensely – the

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-5883107294517507282011-02-26T14:30:00.002-05:002011-02-26T14:30:58.771-05:00

I'm moving soon. Not houses. To wordpress. Four years on blogger is enough. I'm spreading the love.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-6255882881540451982011-02-25T20:53:00.006-05:002011-02-25T21:04:38.009-05:00

photo credit Since the beginning of time, actually the beginning of answering machines...little know factoid here... my voice reaches a tone, vocally, that disconnected peoples phones. I'm not sure if I sounded like the 3, the 5, the pound key but sooner or later, in the midst of leaving a message, and not just at the end either, I disconnected. At first I thought people were interrupting then

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-62386777849534099452011-02-22T09:46:00.003-05:002011-02-22T09:52:05.264-05:00

i should clarify that recently i wrote a post about learning the hard way and I started with a story about a dance studio and followed it with examples of people being a nightmare. Just want to clarify here that the dance studio is not an example in keeping with the rest of the post. I was using it as a starting point. Simply that no one there asked me to help but I made assumptions and based on

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-42754502872452593052011-02-22T09:25:00.001-05:002011-02-22T09:28:28.634-05:00

Money can't buy happiness... but you can be more comfortable unhappy. Money can't buy happiness... but neither can being broke. Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure can buy lots of things that contribute mightily to happiness. credit   We have money. I've said this before. Not uppercase "M" money, but working hard money. Were I still working, we'd have more money. LOTS more. And dual income

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-47300466761241341482011-02-19T08:45:00.000-05:002011-02-21T08:47:11.913-05:00

The wind was blowing so hard last night that it woke me. We live in New England, at most we get snow. No flooding, no hurricanes, no crazy tropical storms. No real wind storms. So when we do, it's like snow in Georgia. It's noteworthy. On my tiny little 18 house sidestreet, fully half boast a flag in front of their houses. Not set in the ground like a vfw post, but mounted to the porch. And for

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-29453303243131909652011-02-18T08:31:00.000-05:002011-02-18T08:31:23.215-05:00

There was a young couple (almost middle aged) who lived in a shoe (box sized house) who had the money (lowecase m) but didn't know what to do. They looked at houses far and wide and wanting to compromise was points for their side. They peaked into attics and looked into sheds but couldn't find a home with enough beds  (rooms) Dillengtly they checked daily on line was a home with a garage THAT

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-51124288829377450172011-02-17T14:54:00.001-05:002011-02-17T16:00:16.238-05:00

my husband and I have this thing - every time we see a man on a bike we start yelling out guesses... "Up ahead, on your right" and before we get too close a look we have to call it. "homeless guy..." "veteran..." "fitness enthusiast... "environmentalist...' "asian..." "dui" I mean, there's a reason grown men wear all that Lance Armstrong gear. Otherwise we all think you're a swill ass. So

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-4648398402869200302011-02-17T07:55:00.000-05:002011-02-17T07:55:01.664-05:00

I only wish I could turn back the hands of time and give myself another 5 years, 10 years of knowing what I know now - and actually using the knowledge. My sister works for a dance studio. A popular one that turns a modest profit, very modest in fact because there's no money in it but it's well run and leaves a legacy of love and love for dance in it's wake. Last year I put together a program

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-24462581876830146382011-02-05T03:27:00.004-05:002011-02-05T03:30:48.204-05:00

here's the thing about having a child that takes an oral steroid for 4 months... they don't sleep. Hardly ever. so at 12, at 2, at 3;30 then at 5, you are up. Then up at 6. Then 7. Life's a constant mission to harness the energy and deal with the irritability. Your husband sleeps in one room with one baby on the bed. One baby that has something wrong, tongue or GI, undiagnosed because he is

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-39949106350357620892011-02-02T22:34:00.003-05:002011-02-02T22:35:00.940-05:00

wtf I do all day... There's nothing fancy about either of these - in fact they are practically the same soup - but so so simple. They are good "throw them on the stove" soups served with tomato & mozerella salad & crusty bread.. Football Season Sausage Soup 1.5 lbs hot ground sausage 1.5 lbs of sweet ground sausage(or weight hot/sweet to taste)1 lg can of crushed tomatoes 1 large white

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-8787880551681052222011-02-02T22:34:00.000-05:002011-02-02T22:34:02.671-05:00

actual email written to friends today...  So Ellie and I have been rocking the handmade, homemade birthday gifts this year. Starting with Ciara, every child is getting a tshirt in a bold color with a reverseout of their names and various appliques. It's very "Old Navy" and UBER cute. Involves painstakingly picking out letters, peeling and sticking, a true labor of love. I dont mind ruining

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-76657758499685661022011-01-05T00:08:00.000-05:002011-01-05T00:08:53.199-05:00

Im tired. Im bone weary, feeling dizzy, feeling faint tired. I spend - each day -dizzyingly moving from task to task, with a sense of accomplishment coupled with a sense of doom. Im tired. It's never going to end yet I know it will. The boys are months. Not sleeping through the nigh, not yet 15lbs either. I'm tired. Tired in ways I cant articulate. Tired that I forget words for things, tired

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-33497571516197305422011-01-02T00:52:00.000-05:002011-01-02T00:52:16.545-05:00

As I sit here breaking 2 new years resolutions by eating copious Honey Teddy Grahams and not updating my formerly vibrant blog, I got to wondering the following... People talk about twins from birth  sharing a special bond, holding hands in utero, barely able to leave one anothers sight, nesting snugly into one another and I'm...perplexed. Apparently I have spawned Cain & Abel because I'm not

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-10754929379384287002010-12-30T16:58:00.002-05:002010-12-30T16:58:33.568-05:00

New Years Resolution. A Post A Day. I'll be back blogging Saturday, January 1, 2011

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-47022097562093438352010-09-24T13:48:00.000-04:002010-09-24T13:48:18.289-04:00

I do believe that being the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, The Great Pumpkin is a job. An appointment if you will. Complete with terms. The major deities, like Santa, are permanent and immortal, but fairies? Totally a elective (vs elected) office. One day you are flitting around Fairy-ville, the next your grand Poobah fairy comes to you and says "Sally, do I have a job for you..." How do I know

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-47157534225688217672010-09-22T20:22:00.000-04:002010-09-22T20:22:45.058-04:00

It's not that we fought all day, because we don't. It's not babies in the house because we make it about her. It's not the return to preschool, she's been there before. It's not anger, displacement, jealousy. It's three. he's a love but she's three. Which means she loves me most of the time but loves getting her own way more. And the days are tough. And long. And I swaear I'm going to try harder

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-24446249070270777952010-09-22T19:17:00.000-04:002010-09-22T19:17:47.567-04:00

She whacked her head on the coffee table. Hard. At first I thought she broke her nose, then I realized she split open an eyelash size gash on the forehead. I didn't blink. I didn't express dismay, I didn't comment, panic, startle or otherwise. CRACK went her head. "I told you not to jump off the couch" went through my head. Followed by "I've already been to the hospital once today and at the

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-73084919495067170812010-09-22T18:42:00.001-04:002010-09-22T18:43:13.291-04:00

I hate when people hear you had an early birth and say any variation of the following: "oh, 34 weeks? They were FINE then." "34 weeks? Oh so they weren't really premature" etc etc. Or my personal favorite "Oh, my son was born at 36 weeks..." as if that's somehow the same. Because in the real world, if your vacation is two weeks after mine, we are practically traveling together. In terms of a

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-77900292276739334612010-09-19T13:12:00.003-04:002010-09-19T13:14:18.094-04:00

My mother and stepmother continue to buy for my children. I've asked them to stop, to limit it, to be aware of the size of my house. I've asked them to let their friends know. I blog. I discuss. I've asked friends not to buy for them. My house is 900 square feet. 5 of us live here. If I were a vegetarian, you wouldn't bring me steak. I've begged, pleaded, fired off angry emails, sad emails,

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-39695966494679436522010-09-17T16:50:00.000-04:002010-09-17T16:50:50.118-04:00

I'm done paying people to care for my children. Whatever I need to get done, be it the dentist, the gyn, my eyebrows... it can wait. I can rebook. I'm crazy for paying people $10, $20, $30 so I can run mundane errands. Like grocery shopping, drycleaning. To be honest, I can get peapod delivered for the same cumulative $30 extra and not have to deal with scheduling. I have Ellie in school - which

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-64099048535523751862010-09-17T15:11:00.000-04:002010-09-17T15:11:30.813-04:00

1. I see a man biking somewhere without the Lance Armstrong skintight clothes. Do I think "fitness enthusiast" or "DWI"? 2. Cell phone. For my convenience or yours?

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-8015410593019784062010-09-16T15:46:00.001-04:002010-09-16T15:47:12.424-04:00

Massachusetts just passed a law regarding distracted driving. Texting, handsfree and the like. I think they should just ban children from the car entirely.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-79632960102046458062010-09-09T08:11:00.002-04:002010-09-09T08:25:41.913-04:00

Dear Diary WOW! I have some exciting news diary, it is SUCH a big deal. No, not the babies. That’s old news. You are NOT going to believe this diary. I am so so excited! Just 38 days after their births …I…got…my…period! I know diary, isn’t that sooooooo exciting. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I wish I had a pen with a pom pom at the end and the ability to dot my I’s with hearts. This is The

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-29127262154530761122010-09-05T23:42:00.001-04:002010-09-06T09:13:25.115-04:00

For two seconds I though James J Lee had a good point. Over population, save the planet, etc. Then I actually READ some of his ...manifesto?... and I have to say. I got a little nervous about my blog. You know, given the addition of my two filthy breeder begotten spawn.  *************** I don't think obsetity is a disease. Nor alcoholism. I think food and alcohol are addictions though. Having

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-64394009016955418072010-09-05T23:39:00.000-04:002010-09-05T23:39:13.135-04:00

Cain & Abel, Jacob and Esau. The bible is not very kind to twins. I abhor my child's name. At first I worried that I wasn't bonding with him. That perhaps I didn't love him the same. That I was playing favorites, choosing sides. I just didn't feel any surge of... affection... when I said his name. No feeling of homecoming. Just blank. And angry. And finally, I guess weeks ago but given his

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-21501561984844429892010-08-31T00:29:00.001-04:002010-08-31T00:32:07.748-04:00

My husband has an issue with his breath. He's that guy at work that has the onion bagel for breakfast, Indian for lunch - and thinks I'm hyper sensitive. I tell him - FREQUENTLY - "Good christ man, your breath is disgusting." Now I know that sounds harsh but I've tried subtle. Not so much. So at this point I'm like "Dude. Y.O.U.R. - B.R.E.A.T.H. - I.S. - R.A.N.C.I.D. And still, he does nothing.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-61499234588406075912010-08-30T17:24:00.002-04:002010-08-30T17:24:47.315-04:00

I looked closely at a business card today. The tagline said 'Service Beyond Your Expectations".  Which got me thinking. I generally expect excellent service. Excellent service. So service beyond my expectations? Allrightly then. Have at.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-734517246193795432010-08-23T09:19:00.001-04:002010-09-01T22:11:08.300-04:00

I mean how LONG can these updates go on!!! I promise, here’s the last one! Just wanted to let you know that J finally joined us at home. We are now, officially, a party of five. Ba Dum Bum (insert bad 80s reference here). All are doing well but our 1100 sq feet are feeling smaller by the inch. Looking forward to catching up with you in the fall and through the new year. Pics include:

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-10109653092375849662010-08-18T13:24:00.000-04:002010-08-31T13:25:13.157-04:00

Just wanted to let you know that E*** came home today. Weighing a whopping 5lbs 8 oz, our B*** baby is eating, sleeping and breathing like a champ. He’s still too little for visitors and going out but sometime after his "natural" birthday in September, we hope to be able to show him off. We are looking forward to welcoming James home as well, optimistically some time late next week. Thanks

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-6801368747541176822010-08-09T13:35:00.000-04:002010-08-31T23:59:18.517-04:00

In response to all the calls, queries, interest after we had the boys... I started a notes page on FB. I am recording it here for historical reasons as well as forshadowing for a future post... As follows: J & T ~ Updates posted by ME on Monday, August 9, 2010 at 4:40pmHi - Because people have asked, I'm going to record the babies update in NOTES. This is not required reading for anyone, it

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-46984462905434113642010-08-03T19:15:00.014-04:002010-08-31T13:15:19.296-04:00

There were thrills, there were chills, there were doctors galore…and finally, thankfully, forty sweet digits to explore! Please join us as we celebrate the early arrival of “The Fabulous (Baby) B***** Boys". J*** F***| E**** M**** Born  34 weeksdob:       August 3, 2010 ~ Time | Time p.m.wght:   4lbs 15oz | 5lb 3ozlgn:         17.75 | 18.25 inches Both are doing well. J & E will be

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-20044485016155853802010-07-16T08:30:00.004-04:002010-07-16T08:37:16.463-04:00

I could have saved myself a million words yesterday and just posted this instead. Because I'm ready. Our time is coming. Metaphor for my life. Thanks Swoop. All day I've been inside And I've got the feeling I'm trapped between the walls And underneath the ceiling I feel a bit off track And now I'm trying to get back Back in the cool cool air Where the sun in shining Nothing's

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-13882375406427270462010-07-16T01:35:00.002-04:002010-07-16T01:45:19.713-04:00

Set me free why don't you babe Get out my life, why don't you babe cause you don't really love me, you just keep me hangin' on. You don't really need me You just keep me hangin' on The terrible thing about being an occasional blogger is that when you don't do it consistently, you tend to only reach out when things are wrong. So it paints a picture, a distorted one, of your reality. Were i to

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-38226413441221453552010-07-15T18:17:00.001-04:002010-07-15T18:20:04.451-04:00

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-54228807466817492012010-07-15T18:03:00.002-04:002010-07-15T18:05:08.943-04:00

My husband thinks most Massachusetts natives are assholes. Not personally, just in regards to our arrogance - and being one of the littlest states with one of the biggest egos. I give directions of course like a typical native. "No, it's down by the original Richies in Everett but closer to the the MacDonalds or whatever that is right before the tux shop if you were coming the other way off

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-12154233264080460732010-06-08T12:46:00.001-04:002010-06-08T12:46:49.454-04:00

By the way, to be fair, I DO recognize that my feelings aren't facts. That my reality may not be real. So I don't ACT upon things. Nor am I mad at anyone, or taking this to the grave with me. I was merely commenting on how I was feeling about certain people. Not "everyone" - not "everybody". Trust me, if I need someone to listen I can find them. I was merely expressing my discontent with a few

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-47536780967165058642010-06-08T01:29:00.000-04:002010-06-08T01:29:54.326-04:00

And the final "Draft" that I found today. After this, posts will be real time... June 3 2010 | Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies… I think but I don’t want to admit it, nor do I want it confirmed, that I’m not the person I supposed myself to be. If you ask me, I think I haven’t complained…too much. But now, my fear is that I must be complaining all the time. It’s relative, I

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-46524888426085322272010-06-08T00:20:00.001-04:002010-06-08T00:22:21.562-04:00

I have a list of posts in DRAFT that I never finished, edited or published. They are: 3/24/2010 |Twenty Weeks, Maternity Clothes & Tuna Fish Yet it's blank. I do believe this is The Last Time I Ate Tuna and there was some discussion of it.The next post was Untitled and was dated 4/23/2010 although I could have written it today. 4/23/2010 | Untitled A change of choice, a change I invited - but

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-57129499982222849622010-06-08T00:18:00.001-04:002010-06-08T00:23:46.601-04:00

Hmmm, this was a draft from a few weeks ago...but sure, why not? I'll post it as is with the caveat that it's dated. ********************* 5/31/2010  | postcards Remember that book / blog that was so popular? The one where people submit anonymous postcards with deep dark secrets? I haven't blogged, facebooked, returned calls lately - because really, I'm feeling foul. Foul as in sick, and foul

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-17237095136533089892010-05-26T15:23:00.002-04:002010-05-26T15:27:33.904-04:00

At 32 weeks in 2007 At 21 weeks in 2010

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-42040331982901587422010-05-25T20:47:00.001-04:002010-05-25T20:54:23.158-04:00

on my EOB... the following note: BASED ON ONE OR MORE OF THE PROCEDURE(S) LISTED ABOVE, YOU MAY BENEFIT FROM THE TREATMENT DESCRIBED IN THE ENCLOSED BROCHURE. POLICY 669: 3 Essentials for Healthy Teeth: (1)A Soft-Bristled Toothbrush, (2) Toothpaste with Fluoride, (3) Floss Every Day. Do this and you may lower your risk of tooth decay by as much as 40%! POLICY 909: PATIENTS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-88247733635035750472010-05-05T23:02:00.003-04:002010-05-05T23:04:27.059-04:00

MY AD Landscaper - The Quickest $20 ever... (Mytown) Call me a donkey but I can't get 3 things OUT of my yard and really, all it would take is stronger arms and a pit pass. Sigh. And a truck or some such transporting device. If you are a landscaper (you'll need to be able to prove that when I call you because I do NOT condone illegal dumping) and have a pit pass - can you lift and haul

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-80655434943984328032010-04-26T07:47:00.000-04:002010-04-26T07:47:55.830-04:00

An email from my friend on Saturday... Subject: not to brag, but... Message: I had to show you all the clothes we scored at the Cong. Church rummage sale after the party...all for less than $10! I ended up with 4 shirts for me, 10 shirts for Ellyn, 10 pants for Ellyn, 1 outfit for Mary, 1 shirt for Mary, 1 coat for Mary, 1 raincoat for Ellyn, and 2 pairs of shoes for Ellyn. It was crazy! We got

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-24988319538180050682010-04-22T10:23:00.078-04:002010-04-26T07:40:43.863-04:00

I talked to my sister the other day. She's 8 months (already?) or perhaps 7 post surgery and she mentioned her growing intolerance of others. A interesting side effect but not unusual if you think about it. I think if you get to the point in your life where you take decisive action - from eye surgery, to working two jobs, financing new cars, maintaining your family, then undergoing a life

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-63731252000206240082010-04-20T22:45:00.000-04:002010-04-20T22:45:07.563-04:00

The best thing about driving someplace alone is you can fart in the car. The worst is that you forget you've been farting for 20 minutes solid when you pull into the hospital valet.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-70699174069863667162010-04-20T08:05:00.000-04:002010-04-20T08:05:08.058-04:00

Not that it's ever stopped me before. But sometimes, misery is a personal thing. Am I "miserable" - not in every minute of every day but overall, let's look at the big picture. For one thing, I'm huge. Huge as in big. As in my pelvic bones have shifted and my abdominal muscles aren't doing their job, or more specifically, are valiently trying to do their former job but are straining mightily at

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-9083522517191388172010-04-13T18:07:00.000-04:002010-04-13T18:07:36.067-04:00

In form and feature, face and limb, I grew so like my brother, That folks got taking me for him, And each for one another. It puzzled all our kith and kin, It reached a fearful pitch; For one of us was born a twin, Yet not a soul knew which. One day, to make the matter worse, Before our names were fixed, As we were being washed by nurse, We got completely mixed; And thus, you see,

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-26300081394313514522010-04-05T16:11:00.000-04:002010-04-05T16:11:47.673-04:00

My husband and I have a joke. It's long running and not exact, or put into words, but what it equates to, roughly, is that I am his Italian peasant wife.  I used to take the train home from the city at night, after work. As late as 10:50, more often then not 9:20. I walked places, I went out after dark. Taking  nap until 7 on weekends, leaving the house at 9, wishing bars were open past 12:30.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-49957073234380184352010-03-27T20:08:00.000-04:002010-03-27T20:09:07.737-04:00

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-17571069889762267232010-03-21T23:02:00.001-04:002010-03-21T23:02:45.413-04:00

I'm only posting so I can bump down the hot under the collar post. Suffice to say this: Things that made me happy this weekend I went yardsaling and found a $2 bench. Woot. We actually kind of sort of socialized. woot woot. I sold 5 packages of gdiaper liners on craigslist and farmed out two childrens outfits in the process. All going to a woman who fosters infants and toddlers. Sad but woot

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-86540520227959917372010-03-18T04:16:00.005-04:002010-03-18T04:20:43.603-04:00

Not that I'm calling anyone a cooze, a snatch, a c*nt, a flaming arsehole or any other such inflamatory label.I'll just stick with "dumbass". As in "now that the drama is over, somewhat resolved, the totally non-reactionary professional that I so wrongly judged has made her points and I mine, now that we are all resolved nicely, I need to spend about 2 hours plus trying to resolve a blocked IP

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-73249490705508541742010-03-17T08:24:00.005-04:002010-03-17T08:52:55.063-04:00

I grew up in Boston. Where everyone is Irish. For the day, all year. Celtic Pride, as in basketball, as in parades. In the 70's, shamrock tattoos’ and fighting Irish leprechauns. Tattoos were illegal here most of my life so they were prison quality. Kiss me I'm Irish. I'm of the old sod. At one time, towns FULL of Irish immigrants. Waitresses, nannies, carpenters. Whole towns of

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-76349419561337372752010-03-16T09:00:00.002-04:002010-03-16T09:25:35.145-04:00

I have a mom date this morning. Kids in preschool, going over to catch up. Potentially offer advice on how to deal with an enforced "rest", tips around the house, and likely just nice conversation. "Sooner then later" I requested "If we wait too long, I'll never come by" "Sooner is good..." I offered to bring an "outside" coffee. A treat for anyone I hope. An outside coffee is a coffee that you

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-40419393205446968452010-03-15T19:21:00.001-04:002010-03-15T19:26:53.051-04:00

In the end, like most good humans, I've managed to justify my bad behavior. I spent the weekend, my ruined weekend, as ruined by me, in tears and sick with self loathing. I felt horrible about the situation, anxious about my friend, fractured and confused. There were two long emails. From each of us. I know people shake their heads thinking "emails aren't the answer, you should have talked' but

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-61731849398755492132010-03-14T00:27:00.018-05:002010-03-14T00:53:54.423-05:00

It's so bad I don't even want to discuss it. So silly, so dramatic, so asinine, so childish, so awful, so embarrassing, so...my mother, that I can't stand it. I'm HOW old? I seriously SERIOUSLY looked at Doug today and just said out loud "I wish I was someone else right now". I wish I could just move. Leave. Find a hideaway and... hide away. I am currently in the midst of what I think is the

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-27444841253219035352010-03-11T23:06:00.008-05:002010-03-12T14:20:25.635-05:00

In 1988 I was just graduating from highschool. I had an older boyfriend, skinny jeans and had just realized that I had an affinity for another entirely different set of Lost Boys, Guns & Roses. I remember the Corys. As in, "Oh look, all the younger girls are crushing on a River Phoenix lookalike and a ferret"  But I would have been a pervert to notice them. They certainly were no....hmmm. Rob

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-89186384168190519502010-03-10T08:07:00.003-05:002010-03-10T11:06:36.219-05:00

"What do you want for breakfast?"YOGURT. Top of her lungs.Banilla yogurt gets spooned in.When I finish this can i have more?"Absolutely!" She finishes it.Has more. CAN I HAVE BLUEBERRIES???"Absolutely! But only a few, the rest are for school."I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL. And as if I planned i, I lied. Rolled RIGHT off my tongue. "oh sweetie, I know. But the TV man is coming today. The TV is

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-51767375980437278612010-03-09T23:13:00.001-05:002010-03-09T23:13:59.924-05:00

Of course it's not ALL gloom and doom. I just woke up today uncomfortable. All night last night my stomach was hard. So I woke up... not feeling great. And it's not exactly going away. Thus the moodiness. After 3 days inside, blue skies, 3 friends joining "my gym" where I worked out alone for 6 months and now they'll go together... after missing 2 birthday parties, after waking up more sore

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-19175666050555098892010-03-09T08:08:00.002-05:002010-03-09T08:11:33.455-05:00

Despite my best intentions, I find it hard to stay upbeat. Not positive, but buoyant. I'm ... in a word... frustrated. It's the weather. The waiting all winter for the sun to shine through, the skies being blue, the ground clearing... and the sense of not being able to go forward. Really, I know. Could I whine a bit more. Daily I don't walk around glum. I'm not wailing, bemoaning, kvetching.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-89108331033277834042010-03-06T15:34:00.001-05:002010-03-06T15:47:46.307-05:00

her: How are you feeling? me: like I had sex with a baseball bat then the same bat hit me in the back. her: Oh, yeah, THAT feeling. Sure. I know that one.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-58798442594817814392010-03-06T15:32:00.000-05:002010-03-06T15:32:45.572-05:00

Speaking of god, and things godlike I should say... "god" to me is universal. He's not a he, or the father of Christ, or of a book, or bible, or prophet. When I speak of God I speak of all things. Karma, fate, the universe, astrology, tarot, deja vu, the wheel of life, the wheel of fortune(I'd like to buy an "e" Pat). I'm not sure there is a divine plan, path, or fate per se. I think, for each

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-91170643813386852482010-03-05T05:22:00.001-05:002010-03-05T06:05:57.763-05:00

The last thing Ellie's preschool teacher said to me was "We'll be praying for you tomorrow".I took a bath last night. It wasn't relaxing. I knew my legs needed shaving but I was balancing a book, and rather then move the cups and alphabet letters, I shifted around them like you do when the cat sleeps on the bed.I thought "I'm not going to sit in water again now until September. Maybe longer"Then

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-13587898238274613312010-03-04T07:55:00.006-05:002010-03-05T19:29:22.555-05:00

Hey. Hi.Hello.Don't get awkward, ok? A couple of weeks ago, I become concerned about some of the traffic to my site. I don't have a counter, I don't track paths. But I got a few comments that weren't local, and I couldn't verify the author, and I started to wonder from whence they came.About 3 weeks ago I added something called Stat Counter to my blog. It's hidden html and it tracks IP addresses.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-46149072961182801762010-03-03T23:24:00.007-05:002010-03-04T00:03:46.451-05:00

We stayed in today.No playdate, no errands.Just me and the munchkin.I made a lemon bread. Got new car insurance, canceled the old. Found a pediatric dentist, made an appointment. Downloaded an insurance card, paid the utility bills. Downloaded a months worth of doctors appointments into my calendar. Emailed the preschool teacher some sample promotional fliers and offered to update her collateral.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-90242622819186765762010-03-03T23:22:00.002-05:002010-03-03T23:24:02.012-05:00

Oh stop it.I don't really hate flowers.I just think it's a lot of money for something that dies.I'm more of a just tell me in words and I'm happy kind of gal.Seriously.Enough with the hate mail.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-4324931014382873612010-03-03T12:08:00.005-05:002010-03-03T13:36:32.753-05:00

Someone just rang the doorbell. Several times.Aggressively. I yelled down. "Who IS it???" No answer.Ellie's in the tub.I go to the window and see a man, shifting, foot to foot, loosely holding a vaseful of flowers.No car on the street. No uniform.Just a guy and flowers.Now I know tomorrow is surgery date.And the chances of a random crazy doing a "flower scam" to break in and what? Molest me?

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-89548801252848675222010-03-03T11:09:00.003-05:002010-03-03T11:13:32.781-05:00

Apparently we only have 1 backdrop in this house.The door. Every pregnancy picture ever taken is in front of this damn door.Me - 13 weeks.Same size as 20 with Ellie.I'm going with twins vs loose unfit abdominal muscles.Uh huh.That's my story.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-58377050955276705452010-03-02T18:32:00.004-05:002010-03-03T11:15:59.221-05:00

I just got off the phone with my friend Jenny.She's got a new job, a professor. We touched on her trip to Africa, on the heels of her trip to Egypt. She had to go and walk the dog and we hung up promising to call each other more.How are you?Busy. Changing jobs, my life. Searching. Growing. Becoming. How are you?Pregnant."How are you feeling about it?" she asked. "Really. How are you feeling?"Oh I

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-49914600747642654942010-03-02T08:12:00.005-05:002010-03-02T18:31:32.370-05:00

Kasey Chambers for my friend Swoopers friend Ivy...Robert Earl Keen for my friend AprilElton John for MS, who shares the same due date as I, although I haven't told her I'm pregnant yet. Robbie Williams for me. Who wishes she felt better.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-69824496858423684642010-03-01T22:09:00.006-05:002010-03-01T23:25:47.874-05:00

I walked out of a play date angry.Furious in fact.Wrongly, but yet, rightly.My daughter lately has been a joy.Crazily...insanely...Easy.And because of where I am (read: angry/judgmental/ungovernable temper), I just don't have the patience lately to feel...kind...towards other peoples children.I blamed Ellie.Called the mom, apologized etc. Said I felt bad if my walking out put her at a

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-34052363464236413442010-03-01T08:19:00.002-05:002010-03-01T08:22:15.298-05:00

You have to wonder, why am I all of a sudden seeing an uptick in comments?Moderated.Whoever's blog roll I am on, they certainly have diverse readership...

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-61901717677188270772010-02-26T19:09:00.003-05:002010-02-27T10:39:48.696-05:00

Me: "I'm about to get dressed. I want to find something that makes me look REALLY pregnant. Like more then I am..."Him: "ok"Me: "...because I don't want to look fat..."Him: "I see"Me: "...so when I come out of the bedroom you have to tell me if I look fat, or pregnant..."Him: "Got it"Me...walking off: "...because I'm NOT going to a bar on a Friday night looking like the fat girl."

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-16391647007790710262010-02-26T15:41:00.000-05:002010-02-26T15:42:40.291-05:00

i just had another dirty dream.i woke up thinking about sex and peanut brittle.

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-74925433437796414182010-02-25T23:51:00.000-05:002010-02-25T23:52:15.850-05:00

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-85714854016261436242010-02-25T12:28:00.005-05:002010-02-26T08:07:04.993-05:00

Someone stumbled across me today and commented. And I replied that I was unsure as to the etiquette around it. I know when I read my favorite blogger Ginny, she always replies. The comment section is often as rich as the post. But by the same token I'm not clear on what's narcissism on my part and what's simply discussion. Are people waiting for a reply? Because I always want to gush "Oh my god,

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-56670269220249498062010-02-25T08:02:00.002-05:002010-02-25T08:14:28.464-05:00

I found myself missing work this morning. I was rinsing the cups into the dishwasher and I bent down to move a fork and BAM it hit me. Today was the kind of day I'd be walking downstairs to get an afternoon treat at 3 oclock. It's raining out, my favorite. I loved rainy days at the office. Raincoats and boots on the commute. People answering the phone, being productive, nothing to distract anyone

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-76826952251862635532010-02-24T23:31:00.003-05:002010-02-25T23:39:16.689-05:00

Six years ago, eight years ago, ten years ago, both my husband and I, we both were broke. I had a good job, he had a good job. But we lived in expensive cities - and life cost more then we made. Car insurance, train pass, rent, telephone. I didn't have cable, a cell phone. I ate microwave popcorn for lunch. I made "ok" money but not capital M money. For my husband it was different. He did make,

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-15342532322884841212010-02-23T14:24:00.002-05:002010-02-23T14:27:37.114-05:00

A cerclage placed at 13 weeks.Injections of progesterone.Things to note:Progesterone Progesterone, often given in the form of 17-hydroxyprogesterone caproate, relaxes the uterine musculature, maintains cervical length, and has anti-inflammatory properties, and thus exerts activities expected to be beneficial in reducing preterm birth. Two meta-analyses demonstrated a deduction in the risk of

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-53753892576716785102010-02-19T09:44:00.000-05:002010-02-19T23:27:37.210-05:00

Lest you think I'm about to write something profound about Catholicism, I'm not.Yesterday, sans Ashes, I considered what to give up for Lent. Not something self serving, and not something silly, but truly, was there a sacrifice I wanted to make, for myself, in pursuit of being a better person.I considered giving up my negativity towards other people. Which is ironic because, in fact, I'm pretty

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-91431929298585197312010-02-18T00:36:00.000-05:002010-02-19T23:27:08.517-05:00

This is you4 of SwordsRest and retreat after activity, convalescence. Stagnation, forestalled activities, and a forced rest meet you. The obstacles and difficulties proclaimed here may be indicated by an illness, or something that tears you away from your activities and forces you to rest. This forced standstill may be an unwelcome inconvenience or an opportunity to come to terms with yourself

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-32146814661817304742010-02-16T09:59:00.004-05:002010-02-16T10:05:30.118-05:00

Changing The World, Part Two...A One Question Etiquette QuizQUESTION ONEInitial Action: You receive an invitation. Could be verbal, printed or just via email. You are invited to attend something. Anything. Be it coffee, a playdate, a social visit. Someone specifically requests your presence and puts forth a date, time and requests you respond.Reaction:multiple choice, please pick one:a) ignore

debbebluenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100392937224554944.post-72353586512970594612010-02-16T08:32:00.001-05:002010-02-16T08:34:53.029-05:00

When I am old, I'll be that asshole old lady starting sentences with "When I was a kid." Whih is why daily I stage little protests. No one cares but someone has to say it...Nanny & Childcare Posters | Text Speak, Lower Case Type & SpellingDate: 2010-02-13, 2:50PM ESTHi. I am seeking a nanny and have seen many wonderful ads here. I just want to offer the gentle advice to some that the first

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