"I Never" for Parents

There’s a drinking game that college students play called “I Never.” Players go around the circle and say things like, “I never cheated on a biology quiz,” and if anyone in the group has cheated on a biology quiz, they have to take a drink of whatever they’re drinking. So, I’ve come up with an “I Never” version for parents. Grab your beverage of choice (mine this morning is strong, black coffee), and play along.

I Never…

1. Picked out all the good candy for myself from my kids’ Halloween bags before they woke up the next morning.
2. Knowingly left my baby in a wet or soiled diaper while she slept because I was too exhausted to change her.
3. Gave my kids cereal for supper because either a.) I was too tired to fix anything else or b.) groceries were so low, there wasn’t anything else to fix.
4. Drove too long in first gear (or if your car is automatic, drove dangerously) because one hand was in the back seat putting a paci back in a screaming infant’s mouth.
5. Threatened to turn the car around on the way to the park, a party, Chuck-e-Cheese, (fill in the blank) if your kid did _______(fill in the blank) one more time, but didn’t keep your promise when they did it again (and again, and again).
6. Dressed your son in Barbie panties on a school day because all of his underwear was dirty.
7. Anywhere from Halloween through Dec. 24 told your kids that Santa may not bring toys this year if they kept acting ugly.
8. Drove my kids around for an hour, and wasted perfectly good, expensive gas, because I was desperate for them to take a nap.
9. Borrowed a grocery cart and pushed my kids around the streets of Chapel Hill, (fill in the town) because their feet were tired and I didn’t have a stroller.
10. (Or my spouse has never) dropped the f-bomb in earshot of the kids.

My coffee mug is empty. And yours?

Numbers #9 and #10 Why I Love Being Married to David

#9 Wednesday is dance day at SFFA. For Grace's birthday, I bought her a cute little black leotard and skirt to go over it that she changes into every Wednesday afternoon. Yesterday at work I remembered that I forgot to make sure her dance suit was in her backback when I dropped her off at PES. Without any prompting by me whatsoever, when David picked Grace up from PES to take her to SFFA, he looked in her backpack to see if her dance suit was in there. He a.) remembered it was dance day, and b.) he remembered to check to see if Grace's leotard was packed. It wasn't, and he made a special trip back home, dug around in our various piles of clean and dirty clothes, found it and took it to SFFA in time for her to "suit up," because he understands that dressing out is half the fun. How sweet is that?

#10 I can't count the times David has filled in for me whether at the church nursery, taking the kids to appointments, or like last Friday, when I still had pinkeye and he filled in as Bob's assistant for a cooking class at SFFA. Bob is my musician friend whose daughter also goes to SFFA. Bob has Fridays off like I do, and over the summer, we thought it would be fun to offer some preschool-level cooking classes at SFFA. Bob's a wonderful cook, so he became the leader in this project, and I the assistant. He's come up with recipes, lesson plans, the whole works. So, last Friday was our debut, but I didn't think that "pinkeye" and "preschool cooking class" went very well together. Bob definitely needed an assistant, and David heroically filled in for me. They made "Playa Pudding," (pronounced "Ply-a," as in "beach," not "Play-a," as in "Don't be a Play-a Hate-a") and if you'd like to see pictures or get the recipe, click here.

Kids' School Pictures

My kids aren't even in kindergarten yet, and for years, they've been getting their pictures taken at school. We always order too many, and they're not usually great photos. The pictures Genevieve Fridley took last fall are infinitely better. Until this year, Grace has never smiled. And Johnny looks like a greaser in last year's picture. It must be a Latino thing, because we did not send Johnny to school with his hair fixed this way. This year, we had to pay for Grace's pictures upfront, and I wasn't going to do it, but her teacher said, "But what if they're the best pictures yet?" So, I ordered the smallest package, and I'm glad I did.

New Orleans

Driving in to work today, I heard the Green Day/U2 number(s) they played at last night's Saints/Falcons game. It made me think of the one and only time I've been to New Orleans. It was spring 1995, and I was about five months into my year as a VISTA volunteer in the northwest panhandle of Florida (more or less lower Alabama, in terms of the cultural, social, and educational climates). David was a second-year volunteer, so here we were, two twenty-somethings in this economically-depressed region learning how to teach adults to read, trying to make a difference.

Even though niether of us could afford it (we made $6,000 each that year), I wanted to go to New Orleans while I was down there, and I thought it would be fun to take an Amtrak. So, I researched the train schedules and looked into cheap hotels in the New Orleans area. I found one in Metairie for about $50, and I booked our train tickets so we would roll into New Orleans early Saturday morning, spend all day Saturday in the city, take a cab back to the hotel, then a bus into the city on Sunday, then catch the train home Sunday night. It all basically worked as planned, except for the fact that the buses only ran so far on Sunday from Metairie to New Orleans, and we had to walk what felt like miles. David looks back as that exact time as to when he began to really fall for me. He was impressed that I'd walk that far without complaining.

But backing up to the train ride, it was my first and only Amtrak trip. The year I met David he was growing a beard. He hadn't shaved in the five months that I'd known him, but for some reason, at 4:00 AM on the morning we had to rush to catch the train, HE DECIDES TO SHAVE! We were practically racing the train to get to our stop, but we made it, and when the driver motioned to help us load our luggage, I looked at my beloved miniature yak pak backpack, and said, "This is all we have." The driver looked stunned. I loved traveling so light. We each packed a change of underwear, a new shirt, toothpaste, toothbrush, lip gloss, mascara (and of course, the make-up items that I needed), and it all fit neatly into my bag. No diapers, no wipes, no bottles, no juice boxes, no small toys, no board books, no babies-it was such a freeing way to travel.

The short visit was just great. We did everything you'd expect us to do in New Orleans in two days. I loved it all. I told David that I bet we either run into someone from Boone or Chapel Hill, and basically we did both. We saw some people walking around with ASU sweatshirts on, and I said, "See?" Then down by the water, there were several live bands playing all day that Saturday. One of them got up and the lead singer, a blonde woman dressed like a baton twirler, got up to the mike and said, "Thank you! It's great to be here. We're Gravity's Pull from Chapel Hill, North Carolina, a place that has towns with names like 'Climax' and 'High Point' "See?"

David drank beer from paper bags right on the street, and when he ran out of cash, he asked me, "How much money do we have left?" "How much money do we have left? I have $60 left." But at that point, it became clear that whatever was David's was mine and whatever was mine, he thought I'd share with him, (which I did...and have done ever since). We ate po' boys and jambalaya, drank beer, and played the slot machines on the riverboat ferry. We sat in the grass and listened to music and strolled the marketplace looking for deals. We cruised Bourbon Street and the French Quarter in a horse-drawn carriage. We walked a lot. We talked a lot. Just two twenty-somethings, two single VISTA volunteers, getting to know each other, with our whole lives ahead of us, hanging out for a couple of days in the soul of the 'Big Easy.'

Carrot Noses, Carrboro Music Festival and The Cave

Carrot Noses:

I was reading a Richard Scarry book about seasons to the kids, and when we got to winter, there was a picture of a snowman with a carrot nose. Johnny asked, "What kind of nose is this, Mommy?" and pointed to the long, triangular, orange carrot. "A carrot nose. That's what kind of noses snowmen have." "Do carrot noses have boogers?"

Carrboro Music Festival:

We went to the 9th Annual Carrboro Music Festival yesterday. We did lots of walking, did a lot of people watching, listened to music, rode a train, and Grace faced her fears by going down a huge inflatable slide. I'll post pictures as soon as my source e-mails them to me.

The Cave:

Last Wednesday, an old High School friend played at The Cave in CH. I didn't know until that day that he was in CH, and I didn't know until that day that he's quite an accomplished musician who plays with Crooked Fingers and has a solo album coming out soon. I missed a great show and another WHS reunion-type of thing...damn pinkeye (which is better, thanks.)

Derailed

I'm a sucker for yard sales. At 10:00 AM this morning, I set off with the kids heading for the "Beauty Shoppe" so they could each get haircuts, but I saw a sign that read "Huge Neighborhood Yard Sale," and I got derailed. There were three sales going on in our neighborhood, and I bought stuff from two of them. I had already promised the kids each a small toy if they cooperated at the "Beauty Shoppe," so in my mind, I was justified in buying stuff that we really didn't need...just a little earlier than planned. Also, it was a chance to look closer at my neighbors' yards and maybe even get a peek inside their houses. Oh, and to meet the neighbors, too.

But I didn't have any cash. At the first house I wrote a check. At the second house, I told them I was off to get money and I'd be back to pay for the goods. I went up to Cole Park Plaza, got $20 out, but before heading back to the neighborhood, we stopped by a monster yard sale held at a nearby church. Our blood sugar levels were getting low, so I was thrilled that the church was selling hot-dog combos.

Two hours later, twenty bucks lighter, kids' hair no shorter, my Mazda5, packed to the brim with random new stuff for the kids, pulled up in the driveway, as David just stood there and shook his head.

Eye See

I've had pinkeye since Saturday, and the weird thing is, I'm the only one in my family that has it. Some type of "sniffles" are going around the family, and I guess this is my version. It's not that bad, but it's not that good, either. I've waited this long to blog about my pinkeye, because David said no one would want to read about it. I have to trust my instincts on this one. Up until this morning, my left eye was the only one affected. This morning, my left eye is much better but it's spread to my right eye. Over bowls of fruity cheerios, organic rice crispies, and "go lean," I ask the kids, "Do either of my eyes look weird?" to get their reaction as a gauge of whether or not I should go to work today. They both looked, and Johnny said, "No, but your face does." (He wasn't trying to be funny).

Ok, moving on to someone with a little more tact. David said I just look like I've had one too many drinks the night before. I think it looks like I've been crying. At lunch I noticed people being a little nicer than usual to me, like they feel sorry for me or something. The cashier at Schlotsky's (and she had a weird eye thing going on herself--one eye wouldn't open up all the way) pointed out where to pick up my packaged salad and salad dressing from the cooler, and then she lowered her face and kind of leaned in, and added, "And you can take as many packets of dressing as you want."

True Story #2: What Would MacGyver Do?

I swear, David and I tried a version of problem #1 last night on both kids. I had forgotten to buy pull-ups, (again) and we were down to one. But I remembered a bag full of infant diapers in Grace's closet that I've been saving for them to put on their dolls. Obviously the kids were both way too big for these diapers, so David got out his blue painter's tape (I swear!) It was a ridiculous thought, and then I had a bright idea. What if the kids put on their underwear and we tucked the diapers neatly inside to absorb anything that might dribble out in the night? We did it, and the kids thought it was wildly funny that they were wearing diapers inside of their underwear. David just reminded me to remind him to put the real pull-up on Johnny after he fell asleep, because Johnny had drunk a boat-load of juice. We both forgot, Johnny peed himself, and Grace woke up dry. Wish I had read this article sooner.

True Story

So I got invited to attend a surprise baby shower for one of our accountants that the Foundation does business with. It was a luncheon held at an Italian restaurant in Raleigh. There was a fairly big crowd (probably 20 or so), and we pre-ordered our lunch selection to make everything go smoothly once we got there. I had never met the mother-to-be in person (we’d only e-mailed and spoken on the phone), but I knew that her baby was going to be named Morgan. Earlier the day of the shower, I stopped off at the Carter’s outlet at what I call the “airport mall” in Morrisville. This outlet mall is the Triangle’s best-kept secret. There are bargains galore to be had, and it’s never ever crowded. It’s one exit up from where I work, so I frequent it on my lunch breaks. I racked up at Carter’s. I had all of these babies to buy for, girls and boys (friends who just had babies, friends who were going to have babies, a little something for Baby Morgan to take to the shower, etc.). I just bought a bunch of pink and blue clothes in various sizes. I also bought a couple of gender-neutral gift bags, you know, in lime green, or yellow or something. I had well over $100 worth of baby clothes in my car when I pulled up to the Italian restaurant. I was running a little late, and I definitely didn’t want to blow the surprise, (guests were supposed to arrive at 11:30 AM, the mother-to-be, at noon) so I quickly pulled some price tags off of a few of the blue outfits (Morgan is a boy’s name, right?), put them in a gender-neutral gift bad and hurried inside. The father-to-be was there as well as other shower guests, and there wasn’t a blue decoration in sight. Pink balloons, pastel ribbons, Baby Morgan was a girl!! I had stuff in the car, no problem. Just about that time, two blue-collar guys who work for a counter-top business showed up looking rather sheepish. They hadn’t brought a gift. (Lesson learned guys: don’t ever show up to a Baby Shower empty-handed, especially when you’re being fed a free lunch). I was just about to dash out to my car to switch the outfits for Baby Morgan and I told them, “Wait, I think I can help you..” I rushed back to the car, ripped off some pink price tags, switched the contents of my gift bag out and filled up a gender-neutral gift bag for the Countertop guys. These are strangers, remember. I got back in just in time and said, “Here, these can be from you.” We were then immediately seated for lunch and the gift-giving began. Countertop Guy #1 (who was sitting beside me) leaned over and whispered in my ear, “So, what did we get her?” “A couple of outfits,” I whispered back. When Morgan’s Mommy opened the gift from the Countertop Guys she seemed surprised and touched at their sensitivity of selecting such cute outfits for her baby girl. She said, “Did you pick these out yourselves?” Countertop Guy #2 didn’t miss a beat, “You like it? I would have tried it on first, but, you know, it didn’t really fit.” He got away with it! We got away with it. Morgan’s Mommy didn’t even put it together that our gender-neutral bags were the exact same bags from the exact same store. Afterwards, Countertop Guy #1 and #2 thanked me for saving them but never offered up any cash. I told them they owed me one and that they’d better repay the favor if the three of us ever found ourselves at another business baby shower at which I turned up empty-handed. They laughed at the thought implying, “As if,” slipped me a business card and called it a day.

Eight Years and Counting

Today is David's and my anniversary. (It's also International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day. Arrrgh, me hardys!) Eight years-wow. Eight years ago today David and I said "I do" in a little white church in Chapel Hill followed by an outdoor reception at Walter's house. It was an incredibly meaningful ceremony and a fun party with lots of highlights. I love remembering the wedding day itself and all of the people that converged to help mark the beginning of a beautiful thing-our marriage. And if that weren't good enough, we took a week-long honeymoon to Greece. Greece was just awesome-breathtakingly simple, beautiful vistas everywhere we looked. And no, I'm not referring to the topless French sunbathers that kept "popping up" outside of our beachfront hotel room. A few days ago, David and I agreed that for our anniversary, we would each write each other a heart-felt love letter and pick out a book that we wanted for our gift this year. David already got his book, The Zombie Survival Guide (who knew?), and I'm still deciding what to pick. I kind of think this one would be fun. My letter was waiting for me this morning. David's letter will be ready this afternoon. But for now, I'll share eight reasons why I love being married to David (in no particular order):

1. Because he's always doing funny and unexpected things around our house...like the time when Grace was a baby and he spelled out with her alphabet blocks in her room on her shelf, "Taco Night?" and left them there for me to find. Guess what we had for dinner that night?

2. Because he cleans a kitchen floor like no one's business.

3. Because my dreams are his dreams, my sadnesses are his sadnesses and his strengths begin when mine end.

4. Because once when I spent too much on a really cool red purse, instead of getting angry, he said, "I don't care how much you spend when you bring home killer bags like that."

5. Because we laugh together all the time.

6. Because of Grace and Johnny.

7. Because he inspires me. He's an artist. He's a voracious reader. He's a runner. And his exercise, by the way, has cleared his mind and given him killer abs. (He's bringing sexy back. Yeah.)

8. Because all the right elements are lined up that I believe, without hesitation, that the best years are still ahead.

Hand-Me-Downs

I just went through a big box of kids' hand-me-down clothes that my Aunt Nancy gave me last month at our family reunion. I can't decide which is more mind-blowing: the fact that these clothes have been passed down to all of my first cousins' boys since David Haynes wore them (he's 16 now) or that every pair of Russell Athletic sweatpants (14 in all) is in excellent shape except for the mended holes in the left knee, and only the left knee, of every single pair.

Already Sweaty

I'm already breaking a respectable sweat and I'm not even running...well yes I am, I'm running up and down the stairs here at work preparing for the Board's annual meeting/retreat that will be held here in about an hour and a half.

A quick running update: David has been adding speed work and strength exercises to his training and his longest run to date has been 14 miles. (Way to go, David!) I mix it up a bit too, but my longest run is currenty at 8 miles (on the treadmill). The race is about two months out and now that the mornings are nice and breezy, I'm going to try to get up and run in the mornings outside in our neighborhood like I did four years ago when I briefly trained for a race in Raleigh. Didn't get too far into training because I developed kidney stones (a very painful, yet with funny parts, story I'll share later), and then around Nov. of that year got pregnant with Johnny. (Way to go, David!) But I'm having a hard time getting up. I've actually resorted to putting my alarm clock in the hallway so I have to get out of bed and walk a few steps to turn it off, the idea being that I will stay up and not crawl back into bed. I'm taking baby steps with this...I stayed awake this morning, but I didn't lace up.

Kate has agreed to come to Chapel Hill to keep the kids while David, Chris, Leisa and I all drive to the Outer Banks to the race. David and Leisa have never been to the Outer Banks, and now my friend Trish lives out there, so the weekend will be about more than the race. Chris's mom is keeping his kids, so we won't have to worry about what to do with the kids while we're running. The downside is that we won't have a cheering section. Because of my highly unpredictable health these days, my only race goals are to finish. One day I plan to run a marathon and raise money to support Team in Training, but not this go round. Chris and Leisa are going to do run/walk intervals, (like run 9 minutes, walk 1) and they've asked me to join them. I'm not sure yet. Maybe I will, because they're the ones who got us to sign up for this in the first place, and for me, running distances is more enjoyable to me if I make it a social thing.
I won't consider myself a failure if I walk 12 minutes out of a 2-hour run.

That's the update...gotta run.

Also...

I've been told I kind of resemble Laura Linney, and when I was first describing David
to people (over 10 years ago!) I told them he reminded me of the big brother on the tv show, Pary of Five, Matthew Fox, Who is now on Lost. What do you think?

You Be The Judge

Famous people that David has been told he looks like:

Famous people that I've been told I look like:

Famous people that Grace has been told she looks like:

Famous people Johnny has been told he looks like:

Get Your Own Identity!

So, the down-side of having your husband create your blog (and logins and passwords) is that he can go to it at any time, add pictures, edit posts, etc. (which he's done). But I never expected he would commandeer my identity and comment on other people's blogs as "birdspot." Check it out. Does this constitute blogger's terrorism?

New Shoes

Shopping with Grace and Johnny is like shopping with these yahoos. I avoid taking them shopping unless absolutely necessary. Shoe shopping is one of those necessary times. They both wore crocs all summer, but that abruptly ended for Grace. Last Friday, I saw a note at Grace's Pittsboro Preschool's sign-in that said, "Sarah, see me about Grace's crocs," and when I asked Ms. Diane about it, she said that Grace was constantly slipping her crocs off in the lunchline, causing everything to get backed up while the assistant went and fetched them, making everyone wait. This wasn't going to work. No more crocs at school. I bought them each a pair of Merrells last spring, but I had the sinking suspicion that maybe their toes had grown longer over the summer. We went to here at Southpoint Mall and a nice lady helped measure their feet. Both of them measured at size 11. Both pairs of Merrells that they had on were size 10. Oops. After a lot of indecision, we settled on these for Johnny and even though Grace wanted these, we settled on these for her.

Then it was my turn. Ah, the choices: slouch boots, ankle boots, peep toe, platform. Even though I had my eye on a pair of these, Johnny and Grace directed me to these. They're the cutest sensible shoes I saw (or were they the most sensible of the cute shoes that I saw?). So I settled on them and we all went away happy, with our new shoes. Mine will last for years. Let's hope the kids' last til Christmas!

"B" Crushes

Below is an excerpt from an e-mail exhange I've been having with my sister today. There are a couple of inside references in this text, but regardless, one can come away after reading it with the following information:

1. I have a celebrity crush on James Woods (true)
2. Kate insists that I have a celebrity crush on Jeff Daniels (not true)
3. David Cooley, Grace Cooley, and our friends Matt and Kelly, continue to surprise us by
dropping random references that we even just casually have ever made. (true)

"Gross, Sarah! It really is random - Sarah Lightfoot Cooley with a crush on James Woods? How obscure of a celebrity crush is that? Name one other person you can think of who dreamed about James Woods last night or who even thinks about him. Most people dream about Brad Pitt or George Clooney. And although my Steven Tyler crush is a little odd, I've met at least 5 other girls who have the same thing for him. He's like a sick, random B actor who probably only has one admirer - - you. The same goes for Jeff Daniels (please, Sarah - Dumb and Dumber? That's so not even your kind of movie, yet the flame burns strong). Go figure.

I can't express into words how classic it is that David Cooley said, "Jeff Daniels?" There are no words... It made me laugh out loud. He doesn't miss a BEAT! And for as much as his head has always been glued to a book, newspaper or computer, he doesn't miss a single BEAT when it comes to remembering things about our childhood, litte comments I've made about Jim that I don't even remember, etc. It just hit me - that must be where Grace gets it. David literally only has to hear something once and will remember it forever (Kelly Baruth and Matt Mielke have a knack for that, as well - Brother Boy) and that's exactly the quality Grace has (spoiler) - that's where she gets it! Tell David."

Where Were You?

I was sitting at home on maternity leave with an 18-day-old baby girl, both of us struggling with getting the hang of breastfeeding. For 18 days Grace and I had worked day in and day out, every couple of hours, literally around the clock to get the latch-on and sucking techniques working properly to increase and maintain my milk supply. That’s roughly 216 feedings, and I refused to give up. I’ve never worked harder at anything in my life, before or sense, than at nursing my daughter. A week into it, I went to see a lactation consultant who, after watching my attempt at nursing Grace, declared that Grace had a “disorganized suck,” (only years later would I come to realize that this disorganized suck was largely due to Grace's disorganized central nervous system) told me to nurse very often, suggested I look into craniosacral therapy, and gave me a list of herbs and methods to try to keep my milk supply up. I rented a double hospital-grade breast pump and was on my way.

On September 11, 2001, at 8:46 AM, I was on the phone with a consultant from the La Leche League of Chapel Hill. (which means, of course, she was on the phone with me, and will remember that’s what she was doing when the twin towers were hit). David kept trying to call me from work but got a busy signal. (I hate call-waiting). Finally he got through, and, shaken and out of breath, he told me to turn on the TV, that two planes had hit the World Trade Center. I did, just in time to see the second tower fall, and for the rest of the day, I sat on the couch, glued to the TV, babe in arms, shocked, confused, and sad. David spent the day e-mailing his best friend who works in Manhattan, getting play-by-play updates on what was going on. This friend, incidently, was one of the eight finalists in the 9/11 Memorial Design competition. That evening David and I talked about our mortality and commented that if we were to be attacked in our home, that night, we’d die happy because we had right there in our living room everything that really mattered to us: each other and our brand new baby girl. David slept with his switchblade on his nightstand, and I dreamt that Osama bin Laden was lurking around in our backyard.

My mom was worried that I’d feel isolated being a new mom just sitting at home watching all of the carnage and terrible news on TV. She encouraged me to get out of the house, even if it just meant taking Grace on walks around the neighborhood. I did, and the weather was just exquisite. Clear, sunny skies, warm, no humidity. In fact, I refer to perfect-weather days like those as “September 11th days,” After a two-week healing period following my C-Section delivery, I took Grace out in my sling, on Friday, September 14, for our first outing just the two of us to the prayer service held at my church, University United Methodist. I needed that communal experience to begin to process the emotional toll.

Breastfeeding continued to go better, and Grace and I got out every day, mostly to Weaver Street, the perfect place to go with a newborn in the early fall, surrounded by others who are good and want good for others. Ten days after September 11, on September 21st, David and some friends went to a show at the Cat’s Cradle, in Carrboro, the White Stripes, I think. (Or maybe it was the Strokes, or the Vines, or the Hives, who can keep them straight?) I stayed home, Grace sleeping on my chest, and watched the America: A Tribute to Heroes special, in hopes of getting to speak to Brad Pitt on the phone. Music has always been key in helping me deal with emotions, and I was touched by many of the performances, particularly U2’s rendition of "Walk On."

So life post 9/11 began to unfold. What have those five years meant to me? Cutting through the BS to find and make time for the things in life that really matter, realizing I can’t control the Bin Laden’s the Bush’s, or the Katrina’s in this world, figuring out what I can influence, and focusing my time, abilities, and desires to the best things in life (which aren’t even things), and in the face of tragedy, pain, illness, grief, frustration, confusion and extreme day to day struggles, it's worth it to me to never give up the good fight.

The Day That Never Was

Yesterday started off so well: after dropping Grace off at school, I drove back up to Chapel Hill, parked at the Farmer's Market in Carrboro and ran a long loop around Carrboro and Chapel Hill, passing places that evoke strong memories about my past, present (and possibly future?) here in the area and at UNC, and I felt happy to be a part of this community. As I ran over the uneven bricks on the sidewalks of campus on Cameron Street, I confirmed to myself that I really did hope I would be tripping along these paths next September, as a student admitted into the Masters of Social Work program at Carolina. Because my life has evolved here, I've started a family here, this is where I go to church and volunteer, and support my kids' schools, and support my friends' kids' fundraisers, and I want to continue to match my gifts--my deepest passions and capabilities--with the needs of others...right here. And amidst this affirmation and hope and endorphin-induced shot of happiness, a neat thing happened: I was running past Frat Row on Cameron Street, getting geared up for the last stretch back into Carrboro and this Honda CRV pulls over and the guy driving flagged me down. It was David. "This is weird," he said, "I thought it looked like you running. Listen, I forgot to leave Johnny's car seat at Spanish For Fun. Should I drop it off now, or are you going back home before going back down to pick up Grace?" I caught my breath, "I'm going back home to shower, so I'll pick it up then." Now that's a conversation that I wouldn't have had twelve years ago.

I had all these plans (but not too many plans) for the weekend, when, wouldn't you know, I wake up with a migraine and have spent the whole day so far either in bed or in the bathroom worshipping the porcelain god. I feel disappointed, bummed out and guilty at my incapacity today, but David's view, while he's away with the kids, is to take advantage of it. He thinks I should sit around all day and surf the net, read, watch tv and just take it easy. He calls days like these "free days." I hate days like these. Sick days that come out of nowhere. I'm calling it the "day that never was."

In No Particular Order

Last night I had ice cream for supper. I knew I shouldn't, but I did anyway. A Foundation Board Member brought me some black cherry preserves and told me to warm it up in the microwave and pour over ice cream. That's just what I did...I just didn't wait for dessert. I bought Ben and Jerry's vanilla ice cream and Hershey's chocolate hard shell, and while David was giving the kids a bath, I enjoyed an indulgent treat. Afterwards, Johnny said, "I smell you, Mommy. I smell your breff." "What does it smell like?" He couldn't place the smell, so I helped him. "Does it smell like ice cream?" "Yeah, it smells like ice cweam." Today I'm paying for it. Dairy is on my "do not eat, you're allergic" list (and I've been doing really well to avoid foods on the list) so today I feel ever so slightly spacey and a bit foggy. (And all this time we thought it was because I was a blonde).

Johnny's doing great in his new three-year old class at school. The biggest concern currently is that he's making girls mad by kissing them on the arm, unannounced and uninvited. Even though we have to nip that behavior in the bud, I think it's rather sweet and told Johnny he can kiss me unannounced, any time. Another too-cute-for-words Johnny saying is what he said the other day about one of his classmate's older sisters, "Mommy, I want to be Carolina's (pronounced Cadoleena) Prince." awww. I told him he could be Mommy's Prince, and he said, "No, Daddy is your Prince." awww.

Grace has started her third year of Pre-K here. Other than the fact that it takes me an hour and a half to get to work each day (I leave the house at 7:30 AM, drive Grace down to Pittsboro, sign her in, then drive to Cary and arrive to work by 9:00 AM), and it takes David an hour a day for him to drive down to P'Boro to pick Grace up and drop her off at SFFA, Miss Diane's class is worth it, and I think it's made all the difference in the world for her.

David actually did accomplish a lot while the kids and I were in Boone. The last thing I noticed was that he replaced the front door screen like I had requested. The screen is ripped down the left side and there's this annoying rubber flapping piece that moves around every time the door is opened or closed. I was impressed that he'd remembered and actually fixed it. He could have gotten away with it, but he admitted, "I didn't replace the screen, I just turned it around." Now, the rip and the flapping piece of rubber are on the right side, not the door handle side, and therefore less noticable. Hey, works for me.

10 Things I Love About Amy

10. That she has a Harvard education but enjoys reading People Magazine.
9. That she refuses to be friends with anyone who doesn’t admit to wanting to strangle their
kid every now and then.
8. That she hugged me and told me she was proud of me when I “came out” with my depression and told her I thought it was time to seek help.
7. That she celebrates and understands Grace’s triumphs and victories, as small and trivial as they may appear to others, because she has an “Out of Sync Child” too.
6. That when I’m telling a long-winded story, she feels comfortable enough to say, “Cooley, this better be going somewhere fast.”
5. That once she wrote me a note on our kids’ preschool sign-in sheet that said, “Sarah, if you
read this, let me know, and I’ll give you $5.00” (and that I never got the $5.00, because I didn’t read the note, because somewhere along the line the Cooleys got the idea that we’re above the system and therefore don’t need to sign our kids in and out each day).
4. That she’s the most honest friend I’ve ever had and that one time when I asked her if she was upset with me she said, “Don’t worry-you’ll know if I’m ever upset with you.”
3. That because we have so much to share with each other about the previous week and
what’s going on in our lives, we’ve had to come up with Agendas for our weekly playdates to get through all we want to say.
2. That our friendship (of only three years!) grew so much in one year that a mutual friend who had been away in Oregon for a year while her husband served in Iraq, immediately picked up on it by the jabs, digs and insults that Amy and I were trading, that only close friends can get away with.
1. That even though she’s in Law School now and is busier than ever and that she’s meeting new classmates and friends, and that we’ve had to postpone our weekly playdates, and that’s it’s been almost three weeks (!) since we’ve seen each other, and that major things are going on in our lives and in our kids’ lives, I know she’s only a phone call or an e-mail away to laugh with or cry with and that when we do finally find time in our schedules to get our kids together or to grab a cup of coffee, we’re going to pick right back up where we left off, without it being awkward or weird or judgemental, because that’s the kind of friend Amy is. She’s the best.

Get 'Er Done

The only way for us to get anything done around our house is to make sure the kids aren't here. Since it's a holiday weekend, Grace's Occupational Therapy appointment was cancelled this morning, and we don't have a playdate scheduled for this afternoon, so David took both kids here for the whole day. David and I talked about sneaking off to a movie this afternoon, as his work on Fridays is usually done by about 1:00 PM. But it doesn't look like that's going to happen. He's working on a shower/plumbing problem that we've put off long enough. My mom used to tell me when Grace was an infant that a happy baby was more important than a clean house. I must have some extraordinarily happy children, then, because my house is never clean. This 1100 sq. foot little box we live in is just overrun by stuff (most kid stuff) and I keep telling myself that the only way to reel it back under control is to get rid of lots of stuff from every room...without the kids around to see what I'm getting rid of. I have lots of intentions and just never have the time or energy to get much done. This morning I filled two big bags of stuff to take to PTA Thrift Shop. Then I went to the gym and ran 8 miles (my personal best!) for this week's long run in preparation for this. I should be spending less time doing this and more time studying for this. That's why I'm soon off to here for the rest of the afternoon.

David is sending the kids and me here this weekend so he can finish getting things done around the house. Oh, and also it's my dad's, Sheila's, and our friend Matt's b-days.