Quieting my brain

Ever since reading Eat, Pray, Love I have been desperately working on "quieting my mind". Maybe it was because before reading that book I either never realized that your mind running at 5000MPH on a regular basis isn't "normal" or that it was possible to stop it.

I'm failing at part two.

My brain is the flipping energizer bunny.

Years ago, when David Faustino was still cute and Christina Applegate was still young, I remember watching this episode of Married...with children where Kelly was learning so much about some things that she forgot BASIC things, like her name.  I don't remember the particulars of the show, but at one point they were saying that Kelly's brain is "like a pitcher of water, when you fill it up and up, some of it is bound to overflow.."

Thats how I feel these days. My mind is overflowing with worries about BPA, rice rationing in the US, inflated gas prices, kids, working, mastitis (OMG THE PAIN), nursing, solid foods, nursing necklaces, Yo Gabba Gabba (THERES A PARTY IN MY TUMMY. SO YUMMY! SO YUMMY!), birthdays, mother's day, points in food, food, nutrition, beach weather, hot, cold, house, dog, Outlook, clients, IM, excel, Twitter, cameras, pictures, who the hell is walking up to my house... huh? What was I talking about? Oh, hi.. how are you?

She works hard for the money

I technically "went back to work" this week. I say "technically" and use the handy dandy "" because I'm still working from home, and not really full-time, but about 100 hours a month. Which is nice. VERY nice. I picked up a new agency to freelance for plus my old friends came back for more. So, after my "maternity leave" and months of desperately trying to figure out what the hell I want to do with my life, I'm revving up and consulting again.

And let me tell you how nice it feels to use my brain to figure out something other than what to make for dinner.

So Friday I actually had to go to an all day meeting and planning session for a new account. The meeting was actually a hotel down by the airport and I knew that I was going to be gone the majority of the day. Barely thinking straight, the night before it donged on me that I should probably pack up my pump to bring.

When I get to the hotel in the morning, I explain my "situation" to a woman at the front desk and ask if they happened to have a place where I could go and pump. Maybe a private bathroom I could use? Of course they didn't, but she suggested that I use the bathroom on the first floor because "No one ever really goes in there".

3 hours later I excuse myself from the meeting and head down to the first floor. When I walk in I notice that the only electrical outlets are right by the sink in the middle of the room. They do have a little seating area, but no outlets on that side of the room. I walk back outside and go into the sales and catering office and ask again if there is someplace private I may go. Once again I'm told that "No one ever goes into the bathroom across the hall." Whatever. Fine. I'll make due.

Anticipating that I may not have my own private lactation station, I brought along my "hooter hider". Realizing at this point that any milk leakage onto my pretty lavender silk shirt would be quite embarrassing, I decided to take off my shirt (I had a tank top on underneath) and fold it nicely on the counter. I start to pump and within the first 5 minutes had 3 different people walk in.

Hurrying the process. I'm finishing up and drop one of the pumps on the floor. As I bend down to pick it up, I knock my shirt off onto the floor, and onto a big glob of liquid soap, which, you know it, was right over the boob area of my shirt.

Swweeett.

The things we do for love...

*eta

*edited to add:

1. Thanks to Annie (the former "Ann from Sudan" who is now really now technically "Annie Kitale (Kenya)" but not for too much longer because she is saying ADIOS to the Bush and coming home for a few months until she figures out her next adventure which may be in Sydney, which may make me sad that we will not be there adventuring with her.)
2. Thank you to my SIL Heather for being the one to go into Barnes and Noble and purchasing the SVH books for me to re-read! Fab bday present! (Oh, did I not mention it was my bday Monday? Yea. Blah. 33. Blah)
3. Tell me how hard I rock - I've lost almost 10lbs on WW over the past 3 weeks. Of course, I probably put them all back on this weekend of drinking little Sofia's by the pool at La Costa and chasing them with chips and guac. Because really, after 2 glasses of sparkling wine (drank with a straw! Sounds white trash, but really tres chic), who really cares if you're fat? Right?

An 8 year old's obsession with Jessica and Elizabeth

I think it was 3rd or 4th grade when I was introduced to the Sweet Valley High series. I remember reading that first book and being instantly obsessed. Desperately wishing I had an identical twin and wishing that I lived someplace as cool as Sweet Valley and since it was the height of the teen-driven 80's, wish SO BAD that I was in High School and drove a Fiat. I actually may go as far as credit my love of reading to this series. I do believe that they were the first books that I seriously DEVOURED - sit all day reading type thing. I even remember doing a book report on one of them using my Barbies as the twins in my 3-D diorama.

Now, these books have been updated to be more "relevant" to teens of today. Sigh, somehow its not that same if Elizabeth keeps a MySpace page instead of her diary..

But one question. Am I totally lame if I read the new versions.. just for old time's sake? I've totally held off on buying the Gossip Girl series! At least SVH has that special place in my heart.

"Parenting without a net"

I spend a lot of time thinking about my mental state and trying to find the stem, or trigger, of my anxiety. Why do I sometimes just wake up one morning and expect the bottom to fall out right then and there?

Our friend Kurt passed on this article to me earlier this week. He passed it on to Jason and I because the woman who wrote this piece also had a child who had Kawasaki Disease, and since it's such a rare illness, we are often sent news stories where it is mentioned. But this article hit me a little deeper.. it spoke my feelings.

“Other parents worry about the worst,” she told me, “but they don’t really believe it could happen. We know better.”

We know better. That was it, exactly. We parents throw everything between our kids and danger: bike helmets, seat belts, vaccinations, tooth sealants, self-defense classes. We are creating the illusion of safety as much as anything else, weaving a kind of magic circle of protection. Like all illusions, once broken it can never be made whole again.

The doctors passed my feelings on as postpartum depression - I guess a catch all for depression/anxiety within the first year of a child's life (Lucas was only 9 months old when he was diagnosed and treated for KD). But now it makes sense. It makes sense that when Zoe was born so small, my brain IMMEDIATLEY went to the worst place it could - because I've been there before.