Weird Al is back!

There are many of Weird Al Yankovic's parodies stored in my childhood memories. Some of the ones that come to mind are "I lost on Jeopardy," "Yoda," "Eat it," and "Girls Just Want to Have Lunch." And he's always had a special place in my heart because my dad, well, sort of looks like Weird Al with the glasses and all those curls. He even was Weird Al for Halloween one year.

But Weird Al is back. And I had to share this because I laughed and laughed. And I honestly don't know what song he is parodying here, but it doesn't matter. The video, the lyrics are just so darn funny.

Afraid to commit

I've been wanting to get back into the shoes of the old Mother in Chief...the spunky writer taking issue with public figures and corporate America when parents--especially moms--are given few options when they want to pursue a family and a career.

I have several--well at least a couple--posts just floating around in my head. Even though I'm a little tardy, I'm ready to rip Michael Noer a new one over his marriage and career opinion piece in Forbes. But something is holding me back. Probably the time-commitment-thing. I used to blog daily way back when I just had one kid and no book to work on. And even then it took a lot of time and effort to write. Ahem, to write good, entertaining, smart stuff.

So I hold back. Afraid to jump in again. Afraid to start and then stop. I just don't like being a quitter. So, if I never start, I guess I'm not being a quitter, right?

Traveling with two

I decided to brave the airports with two kids so that we could go visit our families on the east coast. When leaving San Francisco, I didn’t have to fold my stroller. They just took it over to the side and examined it for explosives and dangerous water bottles. But the Atlanta airport was not so friendly. How exactly are you supposed to fold up your stroller to get through airport security while holding a baby? I ended up setting Baby in Chief on the table. Fortunately he’s not big enough to roll off, and Toddler in Chief is a good listener so he stayed right by my side. Once I got through the metal detectors, the only table-like structure was the one with the rolling conveyor belts. I clearly couldn’t put him on that, so I just stood there and wondered what to do. Eventually one of the security personnel came over and told me I needed to move because I was blocking the aisle. But TIC and I didn’t even have our shoes on yet. Finally, I was able to talk the security guy through the process of opening my stroller and we were able to move all of our crap to another table out of the way. Good times all around, and I can’t wait until I have to transfer planes in 40 minutes or less on my way back home.

Because the Giants didn't make the playoffs...

Can you blame Baby in Chief for being so upset? Actually he was very happy in his Halloween costume until he started to ponder its deeper meaning.

Back to work

I don't think I've heard the words, "Get back to work," since I was 16 years old and I worked at Sunny's Restaurant. That directive was most frequently hollered my way when I was trying to avoid washing a drum of frozen, bloodied chicken wings. I want to wretch just thinking about it. Well now I'm saying it to myself. I've procrastinated enough and I refuse to let 2006 go down in the history as the worst year of my life. I won't use anymore lame excuses to avoid working: my kid's in the hospital, I fell down the stairs, I had a baby, my kid's in the hospital again, my husband was hit by a car while riding his bike. Wah. I want this year to be a year of good stuff too: I had a baby, I started to work--again.

Besides, my whole tag line was beginning to seem a little far-fetched and off-kilter: "Driving to playgroup, but driven to work." Not! Yes, I've been driving to playgroup and the museum and friends' houses and to the store, but work? Um, I think my position was downsized and I was escorted out of the building after I handed over my badge. Then as I drove home, I realized I was left with nothing but diaper duty and a longing.

Enough, I say!

I'm not going to an office or to a punch-clock or to lunches with coworkers. I'm writing my book, the book that's been floating around my thoughts for months, years. There, I've said it. And now I will do it. I even put my glasses on for other purposes than looking the smart-girl part while out on the town. I've done actual research. And I am setting goals and deadlines. It feels good. Sure I'm on the honeymoon, but I plan to ride it out until my loins and my brain are sore. And then hopefully I'll keep going. Because that's what you do if you want to succeed, if you have drive. And I'm driven, even if my drive was on hiatus for a bit. So MIC, "Get back to work!"

I love being an expert

Few things perk me up and make me hold my head up higher than eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, followed by an invigorating walk and a venti soy latte. One such rarity is a little undeniable, indisputable prestige. Last week's dose came when my mug (and giant belly) landed the premiere spot on my photographer's web site. And this week's dose comes via an online magazine's article on starting a mom blog. In addition to being the perfect parent, now I'm an expert on blogging as well.

Ah, fame, fortune, my name in pixels. Who says you can't have it all?!

Fear, illogical fear

How I long for a nice anonymous, boring life with nothing but the laundry and a three-year-old's tantrums to piss me off.

I don't want any hosptial staffers to know us by name. I don't want anymore exciting ambulance rides. And I don't want to be afraid of what might happen next. I'm just sick of it. Everyday I worry that my son will get an infection that his weak immune system won't be able to battle. Everyday I worry that his heart will get worse and he'll need that transplant sooner rather than later. Everyday I think of the hollow life I will have after we lose him. Everyday I worry that my husband won't come home from riding his bike. His most recent crash landed him in the ER just four hours after we got Toddler in Chief home from the hospital last week.

Have I been afraid all my life? Or do I become more afraid of things as I get older? Am I more jaded? Am I just more of a realist? Or have I just seen too much tragedy to feel safe, cushioned? Fear. Illogical. Fear. Mostly, I think I'm just tired of seeing the people I love hurt and banged up. I know that my son's health problems are not the same as my husband's bang-ups, but I just can't take it anymore. I feel like my head is going to explode worrying about people, worrying about things that I cannot control.

I shared my fears with Father in Chief, and he listened with compassion. And being the logical and rational guy that he is, he set about to fix my fears with knowledge. He emailed me some statistics about how safe road cycling is compared to other life activities, and how the benefits of cycling outweigh the risks of cycling. I appreciate the effort, but that doesn't change how I feel. Feelings aren't logical or rational. If only it were as easy as reading a few thousand words on the topic. If only there was some pill I could take or salve I could apply. Maybe I've just been through too many emotional blenders this year to be able to step back and brush off the illogical, emotional mind-fuck that life is playing on me.

If only I could rewind my life back to when my biggest problem was who is going to walk the dogs. I'd be well-rested, physically fit, and emotionally stable. And my boobs wouldn't be quite as saggy either.

TIC hospitalized

For the 15 of you still reading my very slow moving blog, I wanted to let you know that Toddler in Chief was admitted to the ER on Tuesday afternoon before being transferred by ambulance to UCSF. After a couple of days of trying to diagnose the problem, it seems that he is having complications from his surgery this past March. You can find more details and updates here.

It really was just 15 minutes

I guess my kind of fame is very short lived. Almost as soon as I posted about my Internet fame, it was gone. Easy come, easy go. Good thing I saved a copy locally. Sadly the copy I saved is just a fraction of the actual photo. The real version has much more sky and weeds, etc. Ah...it was nice while it lasted.

I'm practically famous

One of my biggest regrets from my first pregnancy is that it wasn't properly documented. Sure we had the mandatory monthly belly snapshots taken in our living room. But I wanted to have real portraits done. And yet I didn't manage to get my act together enough to actually do it. Then I got another chance--I got pregnant again. We already know that second kids are destined to a life of hand-me-downs and that they get significantly less one-on-one time with mom and dad. But this second kid will have something his big brother doesn't have--very cool pictures of him in my belly. Not that he will care about that at all.

Yes, that is me and my eight-month-pregnant belly featured on my very talented photographer's web site. Ah, fame is just a web site away.