Daily Schedule Derailed by Astrological Shift

If I was still a Virgo I'm sure that I'd have been able to keep to my new daily schedule and I'd have four or five new paintings by now. I'd get through each day in my usual focused fashion and move from slot to slot like the obsessive pedantic creature that I thought I was. But it turns out I am a LEO. A LEO,  people? For the love of ginger! This makes no sense. It's a whole new world order. No wonder I have been so self absorbed lately. And luxuriating in my bed despite the repeated reminders by my 6am alarm. I'm a lion! I don't have time for schedules. I'm too busy ruling the jungle.

Nonetheless, I did manage to finally get started on a suite of paintings that celebrate the sabbath. Which reminds me. Time for a cat nap.

Did your zodiac sign change? I'm not sure what to make of it. Except that maybe it's time to ditch moody, organized and judgmental in favor of enterprising, courageous and confident. Plus affectionate. Prrrrrr.....

Twenty weeks

Sometimes it's best not to ask for advice. Like when you're 37 and pregnant, for example, and you can't decide whether or not to do an amniocentesis. Hypothetically. And your gut tells you the baby is fine. And your screening scores tell you, really, the baby is fine. But you ask your friends. And everyone has a story about this one who miscarried because of the amnio and that one who had a baby with Downs Syndrome even though the Nuchal Translucency reported favorable odds. And then your head is full of stories instead of your own good sense.

So you end up shrieking on the phone at your poor midwife, a woman you refer to as Mary Poppins, for not returning your calls when a decision must be made because the window of opportunity is closing. Hypothetically. Though, in your defense, it would have been nice if she had called you back five days ago when you first called to express your anxiety and gave you a little of the support that you needed to make this decision before all the panic set in. And she apologizes profusely for being so unavailable and it is not like her at all, which it is not, and you both cry. And she sets you up with an appointment to see a genetic counselor, which you do, and even your husband comes because he can tell you are hanging by a thread . And the genetic counselor is lovely and helpful and informed and is probably wondering why you're even there since all signs point toward a normal, healthy baby. At birth anyway.

You breathe a sigh and remember your gut. And the next day you see your midwife for your 20 week appointment and you both cry again and you try to explain how emotional you are in this third pregnancy because so much is at stake and how could it be, what with the law of limited good, that you might end up with three perfectly healthy babies when so many babies are sick? Or can't even get conceived?

And she reminds you that you are worthy of many good things in your life, a concept that is hard for you to embrace. And that goodness can be mysterious. And you remember the conversations you've had with your husband about chasing perfect babies and how there are no guarantees. Even an amnio can't guarantee that something won't go south at delivery, or age 2 or sixteen or forty-five. Or ever. There is no going back.

So you surrender to the knowledge that control is only temporary and more than likely a total illusion. And you breathe deeply and trust that this baby and this experience is exactly as it should be and that you are prepared for whatever comes.*

* prenatal testing is a very personal experience for every woman/couple. This was mine. Everyone comes to their own decisions based on many many factors. For some, the decision is not quite as fraught with anxiety. We do what we have to do.

The drain

I am considering this contraption instead of tubes next time around.

My daughter had her third ear surgery about two weeks before our little winter vacation. Tubes in. Adenoids out. Her recovery was bionic. An hour later she was wanting to go the school playground. No Tylenol. Nada. She did have a slight runny nose which I thought might complicate matters, but we pressed onward and she seemed to be on a steady course for total recovery.

Then her nose became a faucet. For two weeks we blew that thing dry. Except it never dried. It just kept running and running. And I thought, by God, she is surely losing gray matter at this rate. How much snot could possibly come out of her head? A lot of snot. Her nose became a portal to other worlds. The cleft above her lip became raw and peely. She was a vision of loveliness.

It appears her small nostrils simply could not handle the flow of gunk and soon her ears began to drain. Sticky, stinky, infected ear gunk began pouring out the side of her head. She'd wake up with hair stuck to her face in every direction, cemented on by this stuff.

And I'm thinking, I want my money back on that surgery. She's turned into the spawn of Frankenstein because of that damned surgery. And it's not just the goop. Her moods have left the rest of us drained. She saw her otologist and came home with antibiotics but this is where the real drain begins. Having to put drops in her ears three times a day and getting her to wear her hair in pigtails so that the slime doesn't get tangled up in her hair is totally exhausting. Three friggin times a day I have to explain again the importance of this rigmarole. And every time she protests. We are on day ten and I am about to bleed out my own ears from all the drama. I think what we need is a plumber.

A Pondsi scheme for the masses

I have OK skin. My skin was never notably fabulous but it's fairly typical, especially from a distance. Up close is a different story. It's bumpy and blotchy and dry and porous, enough so that over the years I have spent a goodly amount of time and money on scrubs, cleansers, creams, masks, facials and medication, from organic to toxic and everything in between.

In the end I found that birth control pills were the only thing that really cleared up my skin. And I have been on them for a hundred years. But then it was time to get pregnant and be pregnant so my skin got a little out of hand and I was back to three step cleanses and spot treatments and 2% of this gel and 5% of that gel. This has gone on for so long that I now have pimples AND wrinkles. Sometimes one inside the other.  It just seems that I should have one or the other but not both. I mean come on GOD. There is a season - turn turn turn!

And then two weeks ago I had a dream about my Papa Benny who's been dead nearly 25 years. And in the dream he said one word. Pond's. Pond's? I woke up remembering that my mom once told me that he'd always said there was no point in buying all of the other cleanser garbage because it was all made of the same stuff as Pond's cold cream and Pond's was cheaper. It is unclear why he had an opinion about this since he was a gangster. Although my grandmother was a showgirl so maybe he knew this from her. Anyway, the next day, during a fact finding mission, I discovered that Pond's is pretty much the cheapest thing you can buy at the drugstore. And there are like seven ingredients, none of which are parabens.

So I bought it and do you know what? It's like a little jar of magic. It turns out my skin and the rest of me is seriously dehydrated which I know because at my last ultrasound I drank 20 ounces of water and even that was not enough to fill my bladder and thus tilt my uterus for better viewing. The water got absorbed everywhere else before it could reach my bladder because I am a walking Sahara Desert. Here I had been scrubbing the crap out of my skin all of these years making it dryer and more irritated when all I needed to do was drink some water and slather on some Pond's. The zits are actually softening up and filling in the wrinkles! It's like my own brand of Botox! And people have commented! Though they naturally assume it's the pregnancy glow. But they are wrong! It's the Pond's! So god bless Unilever and Papa Benny. I can now declare puberty over and hang tight for peri-menopause.

Coincidentally Rookie Moms are also talking about lotions and potions, but for the very pre-pubescent. Just wait kids. You're in for a treat in another few years...

Winter Merry Making

Chingaderas at Jackalope

Hi folks. It's been a while. We're back from a long and winding winter vacation and it's taken some time to get my groove back. Obviously my new year's resolution was not to blog everyday. Thank goodness. To be honest I don't have any New Year's resolutions because I think they suck. And past experience dictates that I will fail/give up by week two. Who needs that kind of disappointment? I did however make a Daily Schedule for myself which now hangs in my office. I've been meaning to do this for, I don't know, TWO YEARS. So if feels good to have it and will feel even better to use it. I hope. I am thinking about goals for this year and my life coach was awesome enough to send out a worksheet to help me do that.

I have some more big news to share soon, because that's the kind of year it's going to be, but before all that here's a little recap of the last three weeks. Good times. Great memories.

Dress up at Bowers Museum in Orange County.

Crafting with Grandma

Quality time with Mr. Rosen

The historic whale at the Newport Beach Bay Bay where I used to play as a kid.

Sun and surf in San Diego

Mini skis for mini people

Rosy cheeked cousins

Newest niece with her aba

Riding out the snow storm with some indoor crafting

Crash and burn sledding with my sister in law

Kitchen chemistry with Saba

Snowy pottery at my favorite store in Santa Fe