On the first day past my EDD, My Chemical Romance gave to me…

Dinner out with The Informant and My Masterpiece (while Animal and Mineral are at their very first sleepover!)

Also, a 12-hour night sleep, and banana pancakes that did NOT have the consistency of a rubber tire. I don’t know why, but My Chemical Romance’s pancakes are always really rubbery. Perhaps it’s the pregnancy hormones or some weird pancake craving that led me to announce to him, while still half-asleep, that I wanted pancakes from scratch but that his always taste like rubber tire. Luckily he was not offended. He’s seen me pregnant before, and that was probably the least-offensive thing I’ve ever said while past my due date. He asked, like the good scientist he is, was it the taste or was it the texture? I said texture. He said maybe he’s overmixing the batter. Perhaps pancakes are like brownies, which should always be hand-mixed, and never over stirred.

And, he took all four kids to the mall (!!!) where they waited an hour in line to see Santa. My Masterpiece was scared to death of Santa, so she didn’t get in the family picture. While at the mall, they purchased Christmas gifts for me. And they were gone long enough for me to watch 16 and Pregnant, Glee, and Oprah.

Also #2: he told me I’m not very complain-y, especially compared to the last two pregnancies. I said being down 100lbs probably helps; I’m not having any physical issues. Yes, I feel kind of like a whale, but so do most 40w1d pregnant women. My whale-ism isn’t anything new.


December 12, 2010 at 11:07 pm Leave a comment

The Rockstar

My dog was in heat again a few weeks ago, and I’m probably going to get her spayed relatively soon. She is a “show” dog, but neither My Chemical Romance nor I want to show her. Other than not having time, energy, or money for showing her, I’m not so sure how she’d do in a ring. She’s incredibly social with other dogs, and I think she would distract everyone — including herself. She would roll on her back and try to get the judge to rub her belly. Plus she has this weird untamed hair — she has like 12 cowlicks that would take me forever to get straight. I’ve tried, when I groom her, to get her fur to lay flat. It likes to be springy and curl up. I’m not going to fight dog hair — I already fight with my own hair and The Informant’s hair. My Masterpiece seems to have gotten better hair genes, along with Animal and Mineral, who don’t count because they get shaved every month or two.

Another reason I would spay her is her Optic Neuritis. If you look it up, you’ll get a vague explanation that it’s an eye condition that leads to temporary blindness which will someday be permanent blindness. Maybe. There’s really no way to tell. She hasn’t had an episode of blindness in nearly a year — but the ophthalmologist vet said it would probably be a year between episodes, so I’m not sure yet. It’s not genetic, but I don’t want to breed her when she’s not 100% perfect, she’s not a champion… there’s just no reason to breed her.

I love her. She loves My Chemical Romance. She loves me, but when My Chemical Romance is around, she’s on him like wild on rice. She loves curling up in corners. Her favorite spot in the kitchen is in the corner, under a row of shelves. Her favorite place in the bathroom is the cubby under the counter where I put my chair. Her favorite place in the office is under the desk. Her favorite place in our bedroom is on our bed, preferably on a pillow. She sleeps on her back with her paws in the air. It cracks me up. Usually sometime in the night she gets off our bed and sleeps in a corner of the room, near the door. She follows me in and out of the bathroom when I pee all night long. She goes in the bathroom with My Chemical Romance when he wakes up in the morning and showers.

She loves a half-deflated soccer ball. She loves stuffed animals. She takes them outside and “kills” them, shaking them back and forth and running around. When I was talking with her breeder about which dog would be appropriate for our family, the breeder mentioned that in her personality test she didn’t show the instinct to kill stuffed animals or balls — so she seemed more easy going. HA. Almost two years later, and the kill instinct has been activated.

She LOVES other dogs. Her main goal in life seems to be to get other dogs to play with her. Too bad most other dogs find her pesky. We dog-sat for my friend Renaissance Woman (still need a better nickname?) and her big brown lab wouldn’t give her the time of day. Same with my parents’ two dogs. Luckily she has a BFF, Wii’s dog.

She’s a good dog. She used to be kind of small for her breed, but now she’s normal sized. We feed her raw, and My Chemical Romance is always amazed at the huge portions she eats.

November 30, 2010 at 2:19 pm Leave a comment


For the last few days I’ve noticed some hormonal changes, and I’m hoping wondering if this is my body getting close to labor and birth. I’m starting to have night sweats again, I’m breaking out on my face, and I’m getting more crazy with each passing day. I kind of feel like I’m back in my first tri, except with 40 extra lbs. I originally went to the doctor because of the night sweats, thinking I was having some kind of endocrine issue. Nope! Just pregnancy!

I’m so excited to find out if Tax Deduction is a girl or a boy. I’ve gone back and forth so many times in this pregnancy, first thinking it was a boy, then girl for a looooooooooong time, now boy again. I just don’t know. This pregnancy has been a weird mixture of more and less intense than my others. It’s more intense because of my weight loss; I can feel a lot more than I could with all the others, and I’m more knowledgeable about the process. It’s less intense because — duh! — I’m a lot more busy with the older kids. A clerk at Tar*get will say something to me about how it’s getting close and I’m thinking, “Close to what, exactly? Oh, yeah. I’m having a baby.” I feel like not knowing the sex inhibits the bonding I’ve felt with the other kids. With the others, I would think, “Hey, The Informant, how did you like this Thanksgiving meal? Pretty good huh?” but now I think, “Hey baby who might be XX or XY and we’re still not 100% certain on a name, what do you think of…” and by the time the sentence is out I’m totally distracted by something else anyway.

Last night I was having some intense back pain, thinking, “This is it… maybe…?” but nope. I took a bath and went to bed. It was probably from doing “too much” on Thanksgiving. All that cooking, plus I moved a Graco Nautilus car seat from my garage into the house, so that The Happy Mathlete could borrow it.

Next Friday is My Chemical Romance’s birthday and it might be sort of cool if the baby shared his birthday.

November 26, 2010 at 11:50 am Leave a comment

Thanksgiving Recipes

This year for Thanksgiving, we’re hosting my parents, Nice-Nice and her husband, Renaissance Woman and her husband — and the Happy Mathelete and her husband and kids are stopping by afterwards. For the second (or maybe third?) straight year, my parents will be here for Thanksgiving but not Christmas, so we’re opening presents early. My kids are getting a Wii. I have given up — or maybe I’ve just recognized that I’m having a baby and will be trapped nursing on the couch or in My Chemical Romance’s battery charger and want to keep them relatively docile and incapable of burning down the house. So they’re getting a Wii. Also, this means I’ll be able to cook in relative peace!

My portion of TG is turkey, gravy,  green bean casserole, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. Renaissance Woman is making broccoli casserole, sweet potatoes, and cranberries. Nice-Nice is making rolls and pie. This may sound like a ton of food for eight adults and six kids (most of whom don’t actually eat) but I’m worried it’s not enough. I was raised Jewish after all; I really love you only when I try to stuff food down your throat 24/7.

The turkey is coming from Creekside Farm. We were invited to view the turkeys before they were processed but I thought that might be a little traumatic so I said no. In a nod to my heritage, I’m using the recipe “Homestyle Turkey, the Michigander Way.” Is there a more dorky word than Michigander? I’m not sure. I used this recipe last year and it was awesome — same free-range turkey although from a different farm. The only thing that went wrong was that my parents transported the turkey from my house to Wii’s house, and in the process managed to get turkey all over their relatively new car interior, which was mostly cloth. It smelled, and cost a fortune to get it all out.


  • 1 (12 pound) whole turkey
  • 6 tablespoons butter, divided
  • 4 cups warm water
  • 3 tablespoons chicken bouillon
  • 2 tablespoons dried parsley
  • 2 tablespoons dried minced onion
  • 2 tablespoons seasoning salt


  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Rinse and wash turkey. Discard the giblets, or add to pan if they are anyone’s favorites.
  2. Place turkey in a Dutch oven or roasting pan. Separate the skin over the breast to make little pockets. Put 3 tablespoons of the butter on both sides between the skin and breast meat. This makes for very juicy breast meat.
  3. In a medium bowl, combine the water with the bouillon. Sprinkle in the parsley and minced onion. Pour over the top of the turkey. Sprinkle seasoning salt over the turkey.
  4. Cover with foil, and bake in the preheated oven 3 1/2 to 4 hours, until the internal temperature of the turkey reaches 180 degrees F (80 degrees C). For the last 45 minutes or so, remove the foil so the turkey will brown nicely.

Gravy is Easy Turkey Gravy


  • 5 cups turkey stock with pan drippings
  • 1 (10.75 ounce) can condensed cream of chicken soup — I MAKE THIS MYSELF FROM SCRATCH.
  • 1 teaspoon poultry seasoning
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 teaspoon seasoned salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1/3 cup all-purpose flour


  1. Bring the turkey stock to a boil in a large saucepan. Stir in soup, and season with poultry seasoning, pepper, seasoned salt, and garlic powder. Reduce heat to low, and let simmer.
  2. Warm the milk in the microwave, and whisk in the flour with a fork until there are no lumps. Return the gravy to a boil, and gradually stir in the milk mixture. Continue to cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute, or until thickened. Be careful not to let the bottom scorch.

Green Beans are Grandma’s Green Bean Casserole. My Chemical Romance is not happy that I’m not using the recipe on the back of Camp*bell’s Cream of Whatever Soup, but I refuse to cook with anything that includes Partially Hydrogenated Heart/Brain Killer anymore. He claims he only eats Partially Hydrogenated Heart/Brain Killer once a year — at Thanksgiving! — but I put my apron down.


  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon white sugar
  • 1/4 cup onion, diced
  • 1 cup sour cream
  • 3 (14.5 ounce) cans French style green beans, drained — I USE ORGANIC FROZEN GREEN BEANS
  • 2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese
  • 1/2 cup crumbled buttery round crackers
  • 1 tablespoon butter, melted


  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
  2. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Stir in flour until smooth, and cook for one minute. Stir in the salt, sugar, onion, and sour cream. Add green beans, and stir to coat.
  3. Transfer the mixture to a 2 1/2 quart casserole dish. Spread shredded cheese over the top. In a small bowl, toss together cracker crumbs and remaining butter, and sprinkle over the cheese.
  4. Bake for 30 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the top is golden and cheese is bubbly.

Stuffing is Slow Cooker Stuffing (I’m trying to save room in my oven)


  • 1 cup butter or margarine
  • 2 cups chopped onion
  • 2 cups chopped celery
  • 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
  • 12 ounces sliced mushrooms — I MAY SKIP THIS; MUSHROOMS ARE NASTY.
  • 12 cups dry bread cubes
  • 1 teaspoon poultry seasoning
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons dried sage
  • 1 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram — I’m borrowing this from someone…
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 4 1/2 cups chicken broth, or as needed
  • 2 eggs, beaten


  1. Melt butter or margarine in a skillet over medium heat. Cook onion, celery, mushroom, and parsley in butter, stirring frequently.
  2. Spoon cooked vegetables over bread cubes in a very large mixing bowl. Season with poultry seasoning, sage, thyme, marjoram, and salt and pepper. Pour in enough broth to moisten, and mix in eggs. Transfer mixture to slow cooker, and cover.
  3. Cook on High for 45 minutes, then reduce heat to Low, and cook for 4 to 8 hours.

Mashed Potatoes is going to be really unexciting — my dad likes very bland food, so I’m not going to put anything fancy like the aged cheddar cheese with garlic that I just got at Cost*co last night that is so freaking delicious I could die — I’ll add it to mine.

Day Before Mashed Potatoes (although mine will probably be “Day Of” Mashed Potatoes. I have made potatoes the day before and you basically end up re-cooking it anyway to get it creamy and hot, so there’s no point.)


  • 9 potatoes, peeled and cubed
  • 6 ounces cream cheese
  • 1 cup sour cream
  • 2 teaspoons onion powder
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 2 tablespoons butter


  1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Drop in potatoes, and cook until tender but still firm, about 15 minutes.
  2. Transfer potatoes to a large bowl, and mash until smooth. Mix in the cream cheese, sour cream, onion powder, salt, pepper and butter. Cover, and refrigerate 8 hours, or overnight.
  3. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Lightly grease a medium baking dish.
  4. Spread potato mixture into the prepared baking dish, and bake in the preheated oven about 30 minutes.


Now I’m hungry. I just made a quiche with broccoli, bacon, and the above-mentioned Cost*co garlic cheddar. I made two so that I can stick one in the freezer.


November 22, 2010 at 11:09 am Leave a comment

How I Won NaNoWriMo in 14 Days

1. Type. Type. Type. Type.

2. No editing, deleting, backspace-ing, or re-reading what I just wrote.

3. Type at every chance I got, even if it was for 10 minutes while the water for noodles was cooking.

4. Repeat.


Things I did NOT do:

1. Listen to music while I typed

2. Have a detailed outline or plot

3. Meet up with other local NaNoWriMos. (Although two Jugs members are participating, so we did talk things out a little.)

4. Use a notebook or anything when I was away from my computer or laptop, to jot down ideas.

Honestly, I found it more TEDIOUS than anything. Every day, it was like homework looming over my head, that I had to get done before I could go do anything fun.


I incorporated some elements of my life (the main character is a nurse at an infusion center who treats an anemic pregnant woman who is planning a homebirth; the main male character goes to a 72-hour drug detox — I volunteered at one when I was in collgege; there’s a subplot involving an unplanned pregnancy), some totally random stuff (main male character is an injured war vet; there’s a character who is a seminary student, as well as a divorced dad college professor), and just some random stuff for fun (a character’s mother is a very famous actress). That is pretty much it — I kept the plot simple enough so that I didn’t have to take notes. I didn’t mention any specific details about location or time frame (except several references to September 11).

And that was it. I feel a little more free now — I don’t have anything hanging over my head. Who knew I was an anti-procrastinator?

Actually now I’m thinking of what I NEED for Tax Deduction. I have boobs that are already producing milk. I have tons of cloth diapers. I got a lot of baby clothes at my shower/blessing. I would still like: My Breast Friend (Nice-Nice and Das Cinderella are both giving me their old ones; I’ll have an upstairs Breast Friend and a downstairs Breast Friend), Utterly Yours breast pillow; a TV with a remote so I can watch Netflix while I nurse; and some more freezer meals.

November 15, 2010 at 12:29 pm Leave a comment

Quick NaNoWriMo writing prompt

I’ve been looking up some tips/tricks for doing NaNoWriMo, and today’s prompt was, What is your character wearing? Why did he or she choose this? What does it say or not say about your character? Here’s my just-over 1600 words (NaNo daily goal) about what my current main character wears

I wake up and take a quick shower – our apartment is dry and my skin becomes scaly and red if I stay in too long – before taking a look at my closet.  At my job, at the infusion center, I can wear scrubs or business casual. Jeans and cancer-fighting-slogan tshirts on Fridays. It’s a Wednesday.  My favorite scrubs are blue and washed so much that they’re soft like slim leather.  I don’t remember if they are faded and soft because they’re high or low quality material, but it doesn’t matter. I love them.  It’s like working in my pajamas but slightly less provocative.  Nobody seems to notice how wonderful these scrubs are, that’s another thing I like about them. They’re my secret scrubs.  Patients notice if I wear holiday scrubs – Christmas trees and Hanukkah menorahs and Thanksgiving turkeys and red hearts for Valentine’s day – but nobody comments on my soft blue scrubs.  They’re light blue. Dark blue seems to highlight blood, black is morbid, pink is far too perky for me (the exception being the breast-cancer pink scrubs we all buy for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, which our office manager tells us should be every month), yellow seems juvenile like a LPN or what a student would wear. Light blue suits me. Sometimes I wear green, but it makes my skin look sallow. Another thing the office manager warns us about – looking too healthy or not healthy enough. There is an entire wall of windows in the infusion room, and the patients look alternately better and worse when they get infused on that side.  If they’re really ill, small and sickly in their clothes and blankets, the harsh light only serves to highlight and create an image of impending death. They all look bleak and tired and unwell. If they’re unwell – and occasionally we get a seemingly healthy person, like someone with a stomach condition who isn’t absorbing iron, so they’re not all unwell – you can usually see it more clearly when they’re against that wall. If they’re on the other side, the side with the walls and the equally harsh (in my opinion) fluorescent lights boring down on them, you can still see. But not as much as with the natural light.

I have various shades of blue scrubs, but the soft light blue ones are my favorite. I wear them once a week, sometimes once every other week. I try not to wear them too much, and I also try not to save them. It’s a delicate balance. Luckily we don’t work with children or I’m not sure I could handle those types of scrubs. Cartoon characters, smiley faces, animals – those would freak me out, especially in a center where most people have cancer.  I prefer my straightforward monochromatic scrubs.  I think purple would be okay too. I haven’t come across a pair of purple scrubs that seem appropriate or something I would like – they are either too bright or too deep, too close to the color of blood. If I could find a nice mauve pair, I’d buy them.  I usually wash my scrubs several times when I buy them – they’re so stiff and unyielding that it’s like wearing cardboard for the first few days.  I hate that.  Which is why I love my blue ones, I love soft.  I also have a brown pair, but I scrutinize myself to make sure I don’t look like I’m wearing poop. Another thing we have to deal with. Or to make sure I’m not the same color as the infusions themselves.  We have infusion drips that are brown in color, although at least we don’t have brown butterfly needles.  Our butterflies are yellow or blue or green or purple; they can be very colorful and pretty in a weird sort of way, if you notice that. I had a patient once who always asked for a certain color. She wanted a different color each time. She was only getting ten infusions so it wasn’t very hard, but I struggled with her over which color connector would count. Each tube has multiple connectors, and she made some rules about which connector counted toward her color scheme. The possibilities are truly endless.  You can have a red connector with two blue ends for tubing. You can have yellow with red – you can even have different shades of the same color, like green. Most people don’t care. I liked the patient who wanted different colors, she was different.  She didn’t take the chemo too seriously. She didn’t even seem to think about it much. She knitted scarfs and hats for her grandchildren while I infused her.

A lot of the older women knit, and some younger women as well.  Some do cross-stitch.  Some crochet, although one of the women told me that crocheting is considered not as high class as knitting – I couldn’t believe it. As if people care about that sort of that thing, but she said they do. She had a book called, “Happy Hookers Stitch and Bitch.” I cracked up every time I saw that title. She was a tiny old lady with non-hodgkins lymphoma who looked about 80 years old although she was spry. She showed me pictures of her grandchildren and her children.  They lived nearby, she told me, and took care of her although she hated their cooking. I pointed out that sometimes things taste funny when you’re having chemo, so maybe the food wasn’t so bad. She laughed and said it was truly that bad, that her daughter never used enough salt or seasonings, and her son-in-law overcooked everything.  I agreed that was pretty b ad.

Some of the men knit, but mostly they watch TV.  The younger men, in their 30s or 40s or 50s, tend to watch ESPN sportscenter or Court-TV documentaries or History channel or PBS.  The women watch Lifetime or Bravo – I’ve noticed a real uptick in the amount of Real Housewives watching during the day.  Some people read.  Some listen to iPods – until a few years ago it was CD players.  Now a lot of younger people – and by younger, I mean my own age – play on their cell phones. They bring in their laptops.

I like most of the doctors at the infusion center. They’re hematologist-oncologists. Not a very cheery profession, but most of them are kind and easygoing. We get the occasional resident or intern.  The doctors give their orders to the nurses, who type them up and email them to us, and we prepare the infusions. It usually moves fairly quickly. The longest time is starting a line, or flushing a line. Sometimes we get someone who has an allergy we don’t know about until after the first round is finished and they start getting itchy or having difficulty breathing. We give them Benadryl or zofran or both, and we make large notations in their chart. We flag them.  One of the doctors doesn’t like to give iron infusions unless the patient is half-dead; he’s convinced that half the world is allergic to iron. I’ve only seen that once. Most people seem to tolerate iron pretty well, and they feel better after a week or two of infusions, especially the pregnant women who aren’t absorbing any orally thanks to the parasite inside them, as one of the docs, a cocky guy in his late 30s, likes to say with a head shake. I once said to him, “Most pregnant women don’t consider their babies parasites, you know. Most of them are pretty happy to be pregnant and don’t mind it.”

He smiled, not in a totally condescending manner, but in a somewhat thoughtful manner, and told me I was right. “But, from another point of view, anything that steals valuable nutrients from its host is a parasite.”

“It can be a symbiotic relationship. The host is getting something too.”

“Dirty diapers and sore nipples and sleepless nights? Doesn’t seem too beneficial for her.”

“Oh, I think there’s a little more to it than that,” I tried to sound vague.

“You don’t have kids, do you?”

I half snorted, half laughed. “No. Not me. No kids.”

“I don’t either. But a lot of my friends do, and you’re probably right, there is something a little more to it than bodily functions.”  Then he got called for a phone consult from another doctor at the large teaching university a few hours away.

Kids are not allowed in the infusion center, although they can wait just outside and watch TV. We run into that situation once in a while, where a mom doesn’t have a sitter and needs treatment. FMLA works, but only after the husband has taken all of his vacation time – and it’s unpaid. Recently a mom brought her daughter, a sweet girl of about eight, with her to get treatment, but the office manager made the daughter wait in the waiting room just outside the infusion room door. The daughter was fine – we turned the TV on to Disney, and gave her some crackers and juice and cookies while her mom got treatment. I actually think she might have enjoyed it. The mom checked on her several times, but she was just sitting there, with her knees pulled up to her chest, watching Hannah Montana or The Suite Life of Zack and Cody or something new that I didn’t watch as a kid but I’ve read about in People Magazine.  The patients can walk around if they want, dragging their IV pole behind them or next to them, although most just sit watching TV or knitting or reading. This mom was up and down every ten minutes or so, although I kept checking on her daughter myself and she was fine. Later the office manager reminded us that if the situation came up again, we were not to give any children cookies without their parents permission. I know I gave her at least one package, and there’s always five or six nurses on the floor at any time, so she may have gone home with a stomachache.

October 25, 2010 at 11:00 am Leave a comment

My most favoritest day of the week!

It’s Friday, y’all.

(By the way, I’m just going to pretend that I’ve been blogging continuously for the last month. It’s cool, right?)

For the last few weeks, and for the next two weeks, I have iron infusions on Fridays. And Mondays and Wednesdays. It started when my hemoglobin went below 9. Which is like, if I saw you on the street and you happened to share that your hemoglobin was below 9, I’d probably ask what charity you wanted me to donate to in lieu of flowers for your funeral and also, you look really really really pale. That was me. Every morning was a big dramedy because I’d think to myself, there’s no way on god’s green/brown/blue earth that once I go downstairs I’m going to make it back upstairs unless there’s a giant cockroach down there that I need to escape from and all the downstairs doors are dead-bolted from the inside and I have no other choice but to run upstairs like some idiotic soon-to-be-dead heroine in a horror film, so I better have everything I need. And thank goodness my kids are old enough to run up and down the stairs for me.

I sat in My Chemical Romance’s “battery charger” and ignored the following:





personal hygiene

We wasted a lot of expensive raw milk because I didn’t have the strength to pour it into the kids’ cereal bowls. So I let them pour. In addition to having no energy, motivation, or desire to breathe, I also had some pretty nasty diarrhea. I wasn’t too shocked when my labs came back sucktastic; I was shocked at HOW sucktastic they were.

The OB I see occasionally, who knows I’m planning a homebirth and generally leaves me alone, called me to make sure my brain was functioning and said that the labs had been run twice and yes I really needed to start iron pills. Which I take, by RX, twice a day anyway. So I called the hematologist and went in to see him and we agreed on the iron infusions.

I really didn’t want to turn this entry into a whine-fest. The basic are: I felt sucktastic, I started getting iron infusions, I’m continuing to get them, my amazing friends have been ABSOLUTELY FREAKING AMAZING at helping me with the kids and around the house (and honestly I feel terrible because Das Goofendorfer scrubbed my kitchen floor on her hands and knees and in about 2 days it was back to dirt/sand/mud/dog fur/dry food), and now I’m feeling better and very glad for Jugs.

Also, My Chemical Romance got a new car, and I’m doing NaNoWriMo in November to kill time before Tax Deduction is born. Nice-Nice and Das Goofendorfer are doing it too! I’m pretty excited. We all know I’m the best writer in the history of ever, but now we’ll see if I can actually harness my awesome into 30 straight days of writing. So far, we know I kind of fall off the face of the earth every few weeks, so this will be a challenge.

I liken it to labor and birth — lately I liken EVERYTHING to labor and birth — because I think at times it will be uncomfortable and difficult and I won’t want to continue (NaNo vets say it happens in week two) but ultimately I’m only “competing” against myself, and the glory is all mine.


October 22, 2010 at 9:18 am 1 comment

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About Mommy Soup

Wife and homeschooling mom of five, including my Christmas Day homebirth baby. Not Catholic, Amish, or quiverfull; we just like to... you know!

Writing about my interests: natural pregnancy and birth; attachment parenting; cooking; baking; homeschooling; green living; human rights; child passenger safety; dog training, and life after weight-loss surgery.

In my free time I try to figure out how I can promote world peace while wasting time on Facebook.

NaNoWriMo 2010

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