a much needed break

I took a "life hiatus", so to speak. In those times where the world seems to pile on the trouble, and bad news rains down relentlessly, there's nothing like mom's love to pull one through. I've been in Madison for 9 days now, on what has been a wonderful opportunity to clear my head, reclaim my life, and remember joy. Nothing like a daylong Michigan Avenue shopping excursion or a 34/0 Packer win over the Vikings to bring a smile to my face.

It's been fun, and it will also be wonderful to see J's smiling face again. And of course, the kiddos. I hear Henry, Griffin, Ralph, and George are getting lonely, and knowing I'll be greeted at home by four happy fuzzy faces will make it easier to board the southbound plane back home on Monday.

Here's me, mom, and mom's very good friend enjoying our day at Lambeau Field....

i like tv

Last night was the first time I've seen an accurate, heartfelt portrayal of miscarriage on television. Usually, when the unthinkable happens, the victim takes a spill down the stairs, or some other very obvious unrealistic thing happens to cause the loss. (Remember Gabby on Desperate Housewives? Stairs = falling = miscarriage. Ask any soap viewer or my grandmother.) Anyway, then the mother-not-to-be mourns for 2.5 seconds and is back to normal. Last night, on Brothers & Sisters, they showed a loss that hit all too close to home. One of the main characters, Kitty, found out last week that she was pregnant. She was excited, she immediately started planning, and her whole family knew in minutes. Silently I cursed her, rolling my eyes at yet another overly simplistic pregnancy plot in the making and making a mental note to remove B&S from the DVR recording list. I'll pass on another super-authentic TV pregnancy - positive test, bulging belly, and a newborn in time for finale season. Bing bang boom! It's that easy! The more realistic-minded TV writers add in a puking scene or two, and that's it. Everything else must be sunshine, happiness, and tacky shower games. Last night, I watched Kitty go through exactly what I (and so many of my newfound friends) did back in May. Laid back on that table, big old smile, with high hopes her ultrasound begins......and suddenly the doctor is shutting off the machine and looking sadly at her patient as she prepares to smash her happy little world to pieces. Her baby had no heartbeat. She was devastated, her family was devastated. As I wailed on the couch, hurting for this lady in pretend-land, I felt very thankful to whoever came up with this storyline. I really feel like people don't realize how common this is, and how achingly tragic it is, until they or someone they love experiences a miscarriage. I think so many women take pregnancy for granted. They think miscarriage is something that happens to other people. Good example- a work aquaintance who told me how happy she is that she doesn't have "those problems". Mind you, the aquaintance in question has had one healthy pregnancy and apparently has a crystal ball stashed in her closet (right next to the bottle full of ignorance) to make her oh so sure that she'll never experience this. And before this happend to ME, before it became MY reality...I probably didn't get it, either. I didn't go so far as to exlude myself from the realm of possibility, but it wasn't something I sincerely worried about or spent more than a moment considering. And don't get me wrong- never in a zillion years would I wish this upon anyone. Not even Britney Feed-The-Baby-Coca Cola Spears or Nicole-Smoke-While-Pregnant Richie. Not for a minute. All I'm trying to say here is that I applaud whoever came up with the "Kitty has a miscarriage" story and brought a very common occurance to light in a very public way. As tough as it was to watch, it made me feel less like a circus sideshow to watch someone on primetime TV go through nearly exactly what I did. No stairs involved.

Off to work. Here's hoping it's a stroller-free kind of day.

it's here

Well, it's here. November. The focus of much dread, it has arrived. And so far, it's not been as bad as I anticipated. ((Disclaimer: it's only day 3. I reserve the right to hate November at a later date if I do so choose. Stay tuned.)) It certainly helps that my doctor's appointment went better than I could have imagined and left me feeling much more hopeful about life in general, and seeing with my own two eyes that I have things called follicles and they are fantastic ones, indeed. These people know what they're doing, and I have no doubts that it will be the place to change our fortune. It also helps that I've decided to keep my eyes on the prize- 2008. (Well, and Christmas, but mainly 2008.) 2007, in a word, sucked. Sure, it brought our house, our ever-expanding kitty George, and a little piece of television genious called Kid Nation. But moreso, it brought misery, doubt, and sorrow. And medical bills. (Have I mentioned those? Have I mentioned how entirely awesome it is to pay the equivalent of a new couch and roughly 7 pairs of fantastic shoes plus a great handbag or two to lose your babies?) BUT- back to the point at hand- 2007 is almost finito! 57 days until we're on to better times. 57 days until the 2007 is officially the past, aka, "so last year". Here's hoping my hunch is right, and 2008 is happy happy happy. There's already so much I'm looking forward to in '08. Both of the siblings have graduation, my most favorite cousin marries in June, a trip to California is in the works for February, J's new position has been promised to him at the start of the year, and I'll be 27. For some reason, 27 sounds like an awfully good age to me. It sounds officially grown up, but not so close to 30 that I need to fret about an impending mid life crisis. Anyway, long story short, I've chosen to focus on getting through November and on to happier times. God knows we deserve them.

I'm giving TV-stardom a second chance, despite the rocky start. I got a call yesterday from the FNL casting people. (That's Friday Night Lights for those of you with so little taste in television that you're not watching this awesomely addictive show.) Actually, I missed the call and got the message. They offered me what's called a "Lead Extra" role. Had I actually been by the phone and received this call OR called back quickly enough, I would have had the superfun opportunity to play the wife of a guy car shopping. I guess the couple is on a car lot buying a car from one of the lead actors on the show, so I would have been face to face with one of the stars AND nearly guaranteed a chance to see my face on prime time NBC. And actual hair and makeup and wardrobe! Alas, I was too slow in returning the call, and they'd filled the role. Damn! Instead, my big break will be the role of.....drumroll...."Applebees Customer". Not quite "lead extra" status, but surely it will be better than freezing my buns off with 200 other extras in a football stadium. And I might even get a free meal out of the deal. I was promised a better role soon, and you better believe I'll be keeping the cell phone closer from now on.

And on a totally unrelated and absolutely meaningless topic: I heard yesterday that Lance Armstrong has been spotted making out with....Ashley Olson. Yes, that's right, Michelle Tanner and the bike guy. Is that even legal? Even if it is, it seems a bit pedophilic to me to date the little girl who coined the phrase "you got it, dude" and started the ongoing playground debate over whether she was one person with an obscenely long name (Mary Kate Ashley Olson) or twins. This has nothing to do with anything, but I'm so flabbergasted at the thought of it that I figured it deserved a mention. Ew. And as the fabulous L said last night over wine "but...but...he only has one nut!" Touche.

Thankful for: a chat with Jenny yesterday, who I swear reads my mind and from whom I know I'll never have to suffer through the sight of a mini van or anything Pooh related, fall weather in Texas, Dr. S & company making me feel all better, my puppies despite their lackluster behavior of late, a sweet card from Auntie K, Bee Movie this afternoon with J & J & G.