Yesterday? Serious. Today? Not.

I feel the need to share my excitement at hearing the old NBA on NBC theme song again for NBC's coverage of USA Basketball during the Summer Olympics. That rockin' song was written by John Tesh (!) and is called "Roundball Rock." (Enjoy it here and here.)

You know how a certain smell or feel in the air can bring back a specific time in your life? "Roundball Rock" is like that for me. It just brings back happy times. Watching basketball with my Dad. Playing basketball with my Dad, which I did quite a bit. Larry Bird. Magic Johnson. Hakeem Olajuwon. Marv Albert. Mike Fratello -- the Czar of the Telestrator. Ahmad Rashad. Steve "Snapper" Jones. Showtime. That's also where my crazy love for Bob Costas started. He was the halftime anchor for the NBA on NBC and I've loved him ever since.

Those were good times.

My Head Hurts and I Feel Fine

This past week has been a bit of a roller-coaster.

I've been having severe headaches for about a month now. I finally figured it had to be that my eyesight was, at long last, going. So a quick trip to the optometrist, eye check, get glasses, right? Oh wrong, wrong, wrong. My vision is still 20-15. The doc found I had some swelling of the nerves in my eyes, so he referred me on to an opthamologist. I was worked into one of Andy's kind colleagues' schedule the same day. So hey! I got to have my eyes dilated twice in one day.

All-day eye blurring aside, Andy's insistence that I be checked the same day was very disconcerting. I know Andy. There's just no other way to explain it and he wouldn't have pressed it like that if he wasn't worried. And when he is worried, I am more so.

The finding of swelling was confirmed and the opthamologist referred me to a neurologist and got me scheduled for an MRI the following day (Friday). Cue Geneen freakout. Well, not really, but I did go to bed at 6 p.m. and didn't get up until the next day right before I had to go to the appointment. That's my method of dealing with reality sometimes: Hide.

That night I dreamed of my late friend, Julie. In the dream she sent me a letter from Heaven (it was postmarked with a special "Heaven" postage stamp and everything!). In the letter she thanked me for my friendship and told me she was happy and peaceful in the afterlife. She told me she was happy because she was able to watch over her children always. She also told me "everything is going to be OK." I knew that was a positive omen, but I was still scared.

Next day, ugh. MRI. Little tube. Close quarters. Loud noises. Controlled freaking. Sort of.

In the hour I was in The Tube, I somehow did lots of thinking amidst the racket and commotion. I prayed. I thought of Julie and how brave she had been. I thought of all the hockey players in the NHL who'd had MRIs recently and how they all survived. I thought of Annabelle and the way she laughed and kicked her feet in the pool earlier that day. I thought of Andy and how loving and caring he always is. And my parents and sister. My in-laws. I prayed some more. I sang the Brady Bunch theme song several times over to stop myself from laughing after the MRI tech told me she thinks the sound the machine makes is like "bad techno music" (very true, by the way; though "modern jackhammer" is also apt). I thought of how little the minutiae means in the grand scheme of things. I prayed again. I thought of Frodo and Sam on their quest with The Ring (the mind does wander doesn't it?). I repeatedly thought of the "find a happy place" scene in "Dumb and Dumber." I prayed some more and vowed to be brave. I thought of this crazy story a friend told me about a certain member of the Colorado Avalanche and what a baby he was at the doctor's office. I vowed to be braver than that. And I prayed.

Then it was over.

Skip forward a little. The scans were all negative. No tumors. No lesions. No aneurysms. What a relief! I felt very grateful (and still do). So whatever it is that is causing the headaches is probably not deadly. But the quest for an answer continues.

I have a headache right now. It's pounding and painful, but I don't care. At the moment I feel very blessed and lucky to be alive to have a headache. I was pretty scared there for a while and the foremost thought in my mind was Annabelle. Not for me, but for her. I know I am not the best mother in the world, but I do know she needs me and I want to be there for her. So I am thanking God that the MRI came back negative. Maybe, on Annabelle's behalf, you'll join me in thanking Him too.

And here I go again, getting all cheesy but if you're reading this, I just want to say thanks for being my friend/family (I know in the case of the latter you have no choice, but you know what I mean). Thanks for being a special part of my life. When I was in the little, cramped tube I thanked God for you too.

*hugs*

Husband and Daddy

The lights were low in the dining room. The conversation was loud. As the hostess led us to our table, I feel a giddiness I hadn't felt in a long time.

Andy and I were out for dinner. At a nice restaurant: The kind we used to go to all the time before we had Annabelle. And, while I wouldn't go back if I could, it was fun to be out on the town again.

We passed people celebrating anniversaries, birthdays. Maybe a few people were wheeling and dealing. Who knows? But I felt like I was out on my first date with Andy again.

There were no car seats. No strollers. No Cheerios on the floor. No bibs. No screaming. No fussing (at least not in any recognizable form!).

So this is what it feels like to be in adult company! Wow. Again, I felt giddy.

Holding Andy's hand and looking into his eyes. I remembered. Listening to him talk and imitate a funny commercial. I remembered. And the remembrance was almost shocking: This is my husband. This is the guy I married. Where has he been?

When you have a baby, your life changes in massive ways. Those ways are somewhat anticipated. What you never understand beforehand is how your life will change in the minute ways. How your perceptions will shift. How the ground seems to move beneath your feet as you attempt to hang on for the ride.

And you forget.

"Daddy" is no longer your father. He's your child's. This "Daddy" person looks like your husband and sounds like your husband, but that's where the similarities seemingly end. "Daddy" is a great guy. He's fun and funny and exuberant and loving ... to someone else. And, while I wouldn't have it any other way, I sometimes wish for hugs and kisses and cuddles and sweet, soft voices for myself. Those have kind of dried up since my husband became "Daddy."

Back at the restaurant, Andy was wearing a cute gray sweater. A sweater he knows I love. I didn't have to ask him to wear it. He just did. I asked him to take a picture of us. I didn't have to explain. He just knew what I meant. When I tell him I am lonely. He understands.

That part of my husband has stayed the same, though so much has changed. I don't get to see it very often because he and I are in childcare mode. But last night, catching those little glimpses and feeling like more than just a laundromat and food dispenser, I felt giddy.

And it was great.

A Prod and a Push

Sometimes, I think we need to be prodded. Pushed. Hounded. Whatever it is you call it. Other times, I think not. Very often I find myself saying "yes," when I really want to say "no." Then I feel angry about it.

In my ongoing efforts to "be real" (take that Velveteen Rabbit!), I have decided when I want to say "no," I am saying it. And this week I did. Then I said "yes" on my own. I know you all probably think I am an idiot because these things should be normal, right? But I felt great that I said "no" and didn't let myself be pressured. Afterwards, I said "yes" and I felt good and happy about it because I didn't feel like I said "yes" only to make sure someone wasn't pissed at me.

I have absolutely no idea if this makes any sense. My apologies if it doesn't. The upshot of it is, I said "no." Then I made my own decision and said "yes." I am glad I did too. I had a good time.

In other progress this week ... going to yoga. Just going and doing something -- that's got to be a step in the right direction.

All in all it was a good week. I got out of my comfort zone. I let me be me, mostly (it's a constant challenge). So yay me.

Exercising My Rights

Well, something like that.

Annabelle and I went on a two-mile walk today. I also went to yoga class. I still can't believe I went. In recent years I have been a classic flake. I am amazed and proud of myself for going. I know that sounds ultra stupid. But, so be it.

On the walk I started telling Annabelle stories about her Nana and Poppy and her Auntie Kelly and Miss Jennifer and Miss Amber. While I was rattling on, she cooed and laughed. Me? I got all teary eyed.

Then yoga. It felt great and really cleared my head. I decided to sign up for eight weeks. I am looking forward to it.

The Big One

Well, it's not really The Big One, but tomorrow is my birthday and I am inching ever closer to The Big One. You know, the one where people give you black balloons and put "Over the Hill" signs in your front yard?

I try not to let silly numbers affect me. Yet they do:

• My age.
  
• The number of homeless people.
  
• My weight.
  
• The number of soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.
  
• Money.
  
• The size of my pants.
  
• The number of dogs and cats that are euthanized each day.
  
• How many goals Ilya Kovalchuk has scored this year.
  

Obviously the numbers I worry most about are the numbers that are, clearly, the most trivial. Perhaps if I -- I daresay we -- spent less time on unimportant numbers and more on the other ones I'd be better off. For sure.

More pictures coming up in the Photo Albums

Resolved...

Back in my high school debate class we had the following topic:

Resolved: That the federal government shall institute a comprehensive, long-term agricultural policy in the United States.

For some reason when the thought of New Year's resolutions comes to mind, I always go back to that insanely boring debate topic. Then I think: Promises broken. What kind of a way is that to start the new year? Thus, I am going to write my own team debate-style resolution.

Resolved: That Geneen shall institute a "no more" policy when it comes to a.) feeling like she is a terrible mother b.) feeling guilty for no reason c.) obsessing about her weight d.) being negative e.) fear and, f.) feeling like a nobody because she doesn't -- at present -- have a job that pays in U.S. currency.

I think that is a fairly accurate statement of the goals I have for the year. And, really, I like to think of resolutions as goals, as opposed to some arbitrary, newly instituted life rule that can, and surely will be, broken before the Champagne (sparkling wine?) glasses have been put back in the cupboard.

So here's to a great 2008. (Too bad I didn't adopt a "no more" policy on being cliche, right?)

Cheers! And don't forget our Photo Albums for great holiday pictures.

Adieu

This is not "goodbye" but "until we meet again" ... and I know we will.

For All the Engineers in My Life...

... And there are many.


Sleigh Technology


A reindeer training with a virtual reality flight simulator.

Wii Time

OK. So I just had dinner with the lovely and multi-talented Kerber. How do I know she is so talented? She just kicked my butt from here to next Tuesday in Wii. I beat her twice in bowling, then she apparently had had enough of my domination and proceeded to win every other game we played besides bowling. Hrmph!

It was still fun though.

Mario Party 8 is the way to go!

It was awesome to get to spend some time goofing around with her. She's lots of fun.

Annabelle and Andy will be in Houston tomorrow. Yay! I've missed them.

Another Blue Day

Yesterday friends and family gathered to say goodbye to Julie. It was an emotional day. The weather was lovely. The service was beautiful and her husband gave the most moving tribute to her -- I was crying like a baby.

Looking around at Julie's grave site, I saw many familiar faces -- faces from high school and college. It is always sad that it takes a funeral to gather together all of the wonderful people in your life.

There are so many things I can take away from Julie's far-too-early death. One is vigilance about cancer screening. Two is to live your life every day as if it is your last -- that is not an easy one for me. I tend to linger and dawdle and waste time. For as long as I can remember, I've held up this poem as an admonition to myself. It's hard though...

So here hath been dawning
Another blue day:
Think, wilt thou let it
Slip useless away?

Out of Eternity
This new day is born:
In to Eternity
At night will return.

Behold it aforetime
No eye ever did:
So soon it forever
From all eyes is hid.

Here hath been dawning
Another blue day:
Think, wilt thou let it
Slip useless away?

-- Thomas Carlyle

On the Road ... Again

I'm heading to Houston tomorrow for Julie's funeral. I feel like a transient. I've been traveling almost nonstop since Annabelle was born in March. In the past two months, I think I've been in Atlanta for just two weekends.

The Maple Leafs are here on Thursday. I am going to miss Darcy Tucker, but I have more important things to do. (On a semi-related note: What is wrong with you Miikka Kiprusoff?! You are ruining my fantasy hockey season.)

We close on our house next Monday. I can't believe my dream of a house with a pool (this pool) is finally coming true. When I told Julie about the house, she said, "I can't wait to come swim with you." Thinking about it now makes my heart ache. She believed so strongly that she was going to beat cancer. Julie lived her life with hope and faith. That's a lesson I can take from something that just makes no sense: Never give up. I don't think Julie ever did. When I swim in our pool for the first time, I will be thinking of her.

Remote-ly Amusing

Today I was doing a little cleaning while Annabelle played nearby. We were watching the news when all of a sudden I heard the TiVo's trademark beep. Annabelle was changing the channel. So what number did she push? That's right: 36. She wanted her CNBC Power Lunch. She apparently also wanted to watch it later because she pressed the "Record" button too. And gave it two thumbs up. She's my daughter, but we have very different tastes in programming.

Comfort Here and Above

Four days before I had Annabelle by C-section, Jan R. sent me a story titled, "Never Alone." It's a reassuring parable, that I found very comforting when I was lying on the table in the operating room. As Andy stood beside me holding my left hand, I imagined God holding my right.

Things are bad right now for several of my friends. I think this fable could be of some comfort. *hugs* to all my friends and family.

Never Alone
Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of passage? His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him and leaves him alone. He is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it. He cannot cry out for help to anyone. Once he survives the night, he is a man.

He cannot tell the other boys of this experience, because each lad must come into manhood on his own.The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. Maybe even some human might do him harm. The wind blew the grass and earth, and shook his stump, but he sat stoically, never removing the blindfold. It would be the only way he could become a man.

Finally, after a horrific night the sun appeared and he removed his blindfold. It was then that he discovered his father sitting on the stump next to him. He had been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm.

We, too, are never alone. Even when we do not know it, our Heavenly Father is watching over us, siting on the stump beside us. All we have to do is reach out to Him.

-- Unknown

A Moment of Silence

For Bob Hartley, who took the fall today for the Thrashers' 0-6 start. He didn't deserve it.

What is a Friend?

Do you believe you have to have met someone in person to call them a friend? Please post your comments below. Yes, yes, I know you, my dear readers, and I know you don't like to comment, but I really want to know. So gosh darn it! Click that "comment" button below and tell me what you think. You can do it anonymously if you wish. Don't make me come badger you in person.

Annabelle has gotten so cute. I recommend checking out my photos of her if you haven't done so lately.

Finally, the Thrashers dropped another game on Saturday night. They had victory within sight, but fumbled at the goal line, so to speak. That's five straight losses. Ugh.

Argh!

Oh Thrashers! This is getting ridiculous. Not just losing four of four games this season, but getting shut out 6-0 by a team that had not yet won a game. Congratulations! You now have the worst record in the league.

In other news, Nana and I took Annabelle to The Forum today and strolled her around. She's just too cute -- everyone said so.

Thrashed

Oh Thrashers!

You've dropped three straight games ... and you've only played three games this season!

Marian is hurt, that makes it tough for Slava to carry the entire team on his back, so why not give him a break? If your name is Jim Slater or Ilya Kovalcuk, you're not on the list of shame today. If you are any Thrashers defensemen or Kari Lehtonen (goal No. 1) -- you most certainly are. If I was the coach, I'd make you skate laps.

That is all.

Good Things

I just returned from Houston where I got to see several good friends: Ray, Kerber and Julie. It was so great to see all of them.

First up was Kerber. We had a delicious lunch in the Rice Village at Cafe Chino (yum!). Annabelle joined us and was a very good girl the entire time. Afterwards, I went to M.D. Anderson to see Julie. It was fabulous to get to sit and talk with her. Then Kerber, Liz and Julie's kids arrived. I'd never met her children before, so it was a nice treat.

The next day I met Ray (a drop of golden sun) for lunch at Angelo's. He was feeling kind of down that day, but I think my bubbly personality finally infected him because I am pretty sure I saw him smile before we parted.

After leaving Ray, I headed back up to the hospital to take some goodies to Julie and Brendan, then give blood. As usual, Julie was a ray of light amidst the storm. She's beautiful and amazing and wonderful. I was so happy to get to spend some time with her talking about Britney Spears and other important matters; and meeting her dad. In all the years I've known her, I'd never met her dad. He's a super nice guy. Then I caught back up with Kerber, Liz and Julie and Brendan's kids.

As I sat listening to Liz sing the tooth-brushing song, I thought about how amazing it was that three girls from Clear Lake High are now moms, and lobbyists, and journalists, and, well, incredible women.

Big hugs to Kerber, Liz, Julie, Brendan and Ray. It was great to see you all and be reminded of the wonderful people in my life.

Do You Ever Just Feel...

...Like life is moving way too fast?

...Like you need to stop the ride and get off for a spell?

...Like "when the hell did I become an adult?" and "where did all these problems come from?"

...Like you're the only one who can possibly understand the tangled mess of your mind?

...Like you're a loser?

...Like the world is totally unfair?

...Like you'll never figure out this thing called "life"? And once you do, they'll change the rules anyway?

...Like you're losing it?

Just wondering.

Cheesy

I am going to go and get all sentimental on you. I am just feeling it tonight.

I spent the last several weeks in Houston. I had the great blessing of two sets of grandparents to take the load off for a while. I never imagined, nor could I imagine how taxing parenting can be: Mentally, physically (oh my aching back!), and emotionally (sometimes I think Annabelle hates me -- mainly when she just won't stop crying). So a huge thank you to my folks and Andy's, who took turns spoiling Annabelle while I slept in. Yep, I slept in. I felt really guilty about it, but I did it anyway. Kind of like that piece of cake Andy and I split tonight, but that's another story.

I just wrote a note to a friend from work whom I haven't seen in ages. I was telling him we've had a nearly constant stream of visitors this summer. It's been so wonderful. We've had the grandparents, Andy's cousin Whitney and his Aunt Nat, my cousins from Ottawa (!), all of Annabelle's Aunties: LeeLee, Kelly, Cathy and her uncles: Chuck and Dan. Now we have Mrs. Rayburn (er, Jan, I still can't think of her as anything but Mrs. Rayburn!). Anyway, Nana Jan and her lovely husband, Ken, came to see us and Annabelle. Let me tell you a little bit about Miss Jan.

She is the mom of Ross, a boy who was one year ahead of me in high school and was oh-so-cute (still is!). When I think of Jan, I think about the time my best friend Jen and I were busted for wrapping their house (yes, they lived across the street -- how dumb were we?!). I also think about the time she came over the night of one of the big high school dances -- maybe Homecoming. She said something about how I was "really growing up." I remember being so mortified at the time. Over the years Jan has been a dear friend to our family and we think of her as a part of our family now. And over the years, Miss Jan has become such a treasured friend to me, as well as my mom. The day I got married Jan was in the bride's room with me and my girls. I was nervous. I thought my hair looked like *bleep*. And I'd fought with my dad about said hair a few hours earlier. Anyway, Jan comes bursting through the doors. She's one of those charismatic people who, after five minutes you feel you've known all your life. So she arrives on the scene and within a few minutes she tells a dirty joke and has everyone cracking up. That's one of my cherished memories of my wedding day, along with all the usual ones. Jan is just one of those fabulous women you want to know. I am glad I know her. And I am glad she came to stay with us for a few days.

I was wandering through the house today, cleaning up a bit before our visitors arrived and I was just marveling at all the gifts Annabelle has received. They are far too numerous to mention, but high chairs, swings, a rocking horse, clothes galore! We're so blessed to have been given so much. This is going to sound insane, but when I get depressed, I sometimes think about those moms and dads who live in mud huts and have little to nothing to feed their children. I have no right to feel depressed. I have been given so much and enjoy such bounty in comparison. I should be ashamed of myself for being so self indulgent. But depression just doesn't work that way; but I try to remain mindful of all that I am lucky enough to have thanks to the generosity of others (and, truly, our hard work as well).

Tonight Andre and I went out for dinner (thanks to Miss Jan and Mr. Ken for babysitting). These past six months have been rather tumultuous for us and sometimes I feel like Jesse in "Before Sunset." He describes his marriage as running a small daycare with a woman he used to date. *laughing* I've felt that way A LOT lately. We have not had much free time together and when we do we're too exhausted to talk or, really, enjoy one another's company. So we'll just sit in utter silence, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Collecting our thoughts and conserving energy, I guess. All this is to say that tonight Andre and I went out and really talked. It's great to go out and remember what it is you love about the person you married. I know many of you think Andre is shy and reserved; and he is. But he is also wickedly smart and truly hilarious. He was helping me with a couple of fiction ideas -- and I was jealous I hadn't thought of the things he suggested. I was blocked and he gave me some fantastic ideas. Plus, he knows all my secrets and he'll never tell. So, this is just a big love letter to Andre.

Truly, I am just thankful for friends. For the friends I see a lot; the friends I see sometimes; the friends I don't see nearly enough; and the friends who pop up out of the blue to invite you to lunch or suggest a playdate. Not to mention old high school friends who agree with me about Michael Vick and will yell about it in a restaurant. Sorority sisters who love me no matter what. And even those friends who won't call me back. I have been running on the depressed side of the meter for a while now. It's such a blessing to be reminded of the wonderful people in your life.

Finally, hockey season starts soon. Finally!

So *hugs* to the family, the friends and most of all Andre and Annabelle. (Oh and Slava Kozlov, too. He brings joy and game-winning-goals.)

XOXO,

--G

Counterpoint

I am sorry about my last post. Seems it triggered a great deal of worry. For that, I am apologizing. Not for the post itself. Honestly, I feel that way a lot more often than I ever let on, so, really it's nothing new. I think Kerber captured me nearly perfectly in her comments. My sage friend wrote the following:

I adore both the Kool-Aid drinking, [air popped] popcorn-eating, old-TV- show-watching, depressed woman who won't leave her room; as much as I love my bubbly laughing friend!

A sad portrait? Perhaps. Nevertheless, she's right on the money. I am alternately a very upbeat, giggly, outgoing person and a shy, retreating, anxiety-ridden hermit (who just so happens to love Nick at Nite).

So, I titled this post "Counterpoint" because I am going to make a list of things -- free association style -- that make me happy:

• Annabelle's laugh and the way she smiles at me in the morning when she first sees me.
  
• Friends who badger me into attending Panhellenic meetings with them, thereby forcing the hermit to come out and play.
  
• Dr. Pepper-flavored Jelly Bellys.
  
• My sister.
  
• Taking a long drive while listening to music at a very unreasonable volume.
  
• "Office Space."
  
• Knowing my husband will be in town soon.
  
• Having parents and in-laws who love me: Hermit or Bubbly
  
• XM Radio.
  
• Lying in Andre's arms at 4 a.m. listening to Annabelle babble.
  
• Swimming pools.
  
• Knowing I have friends who know the bubbly Neen.
  
• The following poem, which a friend wrote for me:
  
  
  To know a Neen
  Is a wonderful thing.
  To know a Neen
  Makes me laugh and sing.
  
  
  
• Rush's Hold Your Fire.
  
• Pretty much anything with Chris Farley in it.
  
• Lipgloss!
  
• Every novel by Ivan Turgenev.
  
• Crisp autumn nights.
  
• Talking all-night on the phone with a good friend even though we're 35 and just saw each other yesterday.
  
• Driving through the middle of nowhere Texas and smelling barbecue.
  
• Sam and Frodo's unfailing friendship.
  
• Hockey and all that entails (goalie masks, power plays, fighting, slap shots, goal horns, the other team's penalties, short-handed goals, Marian Hossa, hat tricks, Andre in his hockey jerseys, cold arenas, the Zamboni, break aways, 5-on-3s, penalty shots, changing on the fly, the red light, feisty goalies, shootouts, Darcy Tucker, hip checks, etc.)
  
• Skiing through a deserted glade when someone somewhere else on the mountain cries out in glee.
  
• Sarah.
  
• Dancing With the Stars
  
• Magazines.
  
• My Slava Kozlov card.
  
• Virtual friends.
  
• Three's Company.
  
• Dos Mas (still crazy after all these years!).
  
• Ringing my parents and always hearing the same greeting, "Hi sweet angel."
  

All of the above are gifts from God. I know I have a great deal to be thankful for and I know I shouldn't be depressed. I am working on that...

Probably a Depressing Post

Lots of stuff on my mind and I am not sure how this will turn out, hence the title.

I am in Texas right now. Andre left to go back to Atlanta today and I feel sad. There is no way to explain it, really. Andre and I have been together for so long, it's like I am off balance when he isn't there. It's so cliche, but he's my other half. The PB&J on my bread. My best friend. It makes me sad when we can't be together, even if it is just for a week. Or a day.

His leaving has only compounded the overwhelming sense of depression I've felt lately. I can't put my finger on the reason. I couldn't tell you "why." It's no one thing. I am just feeling really bummed out lately. Kind of hopeless.

Now, don't go getting all worried. I feel like this often, I just don't often write about it. But I have been repeatedly told (and have, on occasion, asserted it myself) that getting things out of your head and on paper (or in cyberspace, as the case may be) can help.

I don't know if it's being back in the place where I once had so much fun. Or missing Andy. Or feeling hot and bloated (thank you Houston humidity for both). Or just being in a general funk.

I look at Annabelle sometimes and think about all the cute things she does. For example, she gives me a big smile every time she sees me. I was rocking her tonight thinking about how happy it makes me to see her smile. Then, in a split second, I was deeply saddened -- almost to the point of despair -- thinking that it won't always be this way. That she won't always smile when she sees me. That someday she will hate me -- like all teens at some point hate their parents. That her sweet smile and bright eyes will be dimmed by the cruelty of this world. It makes me so depressed sometimes I can't stand it.

I don't want her to battle depression like Kelly and I have. I don't want her to know the ugliness, the racism, the look-ism, the greedy, money-hungry awfulness of this world. But she will know it.

That makes me sad.

My Dad's best friend Jerry (RIP) suffered from clinical depression his entire life. He eventually ended his life. I remember how upset my Dad was when he found out. How devastated. And I remember being very angry. Angry that someone would be so selfish and off themselves like that, leaving all their loved ones to suffer. At the time I was a happy, stupid, naive college student and I said some things about people with depression that I now regret.

I used to think depressed people should just get over it. I used to think, "what's their problem?" And boldly state that they should "suck it up and deal."

Then, for whatever reason, I started having issues with depression. I understand now.

Sometimes I think God gave me this burden of depression to wise me up. To show me that I was an idiot kid who had no idea what she was talking about. I know I can't think that way, but sometimes I do. Sometimes I ask "why? Why can't I just flip a switch in my head and get over it? This is stupid!"

I was so naive. Is this my punishment for all the idiotic things I've spouted off about over the years?

I've come to the conclusion that there is no way for a person to comprehend mental illness unless you've gone through it. Because society does not equate depression, for example, to being a medical condition. There is still that stigma attached to it. As if going to therapy is a bad thing. Or something to feel ashamed of.

That feeling is very palpable. I feel it right now. Like I should just hit the "Delete" key and forget I ever wrote this. But, damn it, I am not going to for that very reason. I am not editing. I am not going to let myself feel worse than I already do by imagining what you, my dear reader, must be thinking about me.

If you love me, you will love the depressed me too. If you hate me, you hate me. But, at least you'll hate the real, honest me. Not some "me" that I conjured up for your approval.

OK. I actually do feel better now. Post a comment >>

A Post Script: Happy Songs
See, I told you I needed your list of happy songs. Seriously, I plan to add them all to my iPod. So thanks to Mimi, LeeLee, Kelly, Lila, Kerber, Nana Jan, Andre, Jennifer (of Roswell!) and, of course, the lovely and talented cousin Penny from Ottawa, for all of your suggestions. Have more? Want to add yours? Please, please do...

That Was Then...

Seeing stories about orphans in China. Or children orphaned by war, famine or disease. Or babies just abandoned. These stories affect me like never before. When I was working in news, I read sad things about kids all the time, but it was different then. I wasn't a parent. I see these precious little faces and eyes and I just want to adopt them all.

My Hair, the 'h' Key and More

Oh! On March 7, 2007 I had the most luxurious, shiny head of hair. It's been all downhill since then. My hair is falling out at alarming rates. Hands-full a day. I know this is normal, but it's got to stop before I am bald. Right now it's so thin and limp. Alas! Alas!

Does anyone know where to buy laptop 'h' key? Most of my preliminary inquiries have turned up nothing or have shown me how to glue a key back on. Well, as we know, I can't do that.

Andre went to see that Adam Sandler movie today. He left early. Enough said?

We took Annabelle to an outdoor mall. We strolled her around and collected compliments on how adorable she is. Now she, the cat and Andre are all asleep. I will be joining them soon.

I have this horrible kink in my neck. I can't even turn my head to the left without extreme pain. Lying down hurts too. It's one of those pains that shoots from the neck, down the shoulder and back. Hideous.

Well, that's about it. I posted a few random pictures in the photo albums, so check 'em out.

What I Learned From...

Everybody Loves Raymond.

Yes. I know that is a disturbing thought. Here's the truth. For its entire run, I never, ever saw an episode of ELR. Now, I find myself stranded in a chair holding a sleeping baby (I refuse to put her down and wake her up, so I sit). Sometimes I forget to have a book nearby or the TV is just tuned in to TBS and the remote is across the room. I've watched more ELR in the past month that I am starting to worry that I actually like the show, but that has nothing to do with the story.

The story is this. Andre and I occasionally have this sense of desperation, I think. In which we realize our lives have forever changed. And we are no longer important. Or the most important thing in the world. That's hard when you are as selfish as we are. It's the truth. We both know it. We're not ashamed of this truth. We're trying to change it. Anyway...

There was this episode of ELR in which Ray gets jealous of how much his kids like their uncle. I am still new to the show, so I don't know the character's name, but it's the big galoot played by Brad Garrett. So Raymond occasionally finds the time he spends playing "monster" or whatever with his kids mind numbing. As a new stay-at-home mom, I can feel that emotion. Very much. I firmly and steadfastly believe that staying at home with Annabelle is the best decision for her, but it is hard sometimes. I used to have a job. And, OK, I used to feel a little bit appreciated. A little bit important. I dug the job most of the time. I liked the people.

Staying at home is a challenge for someone who has always worked. Who has always earned her own money. Again, I would not change my decision. I believe in what I am doing. But, yes, it is a challenge.

I do not get paid. So I feel, somehow, like it's not our money anymore. That's been mentally challenging for me. To accept that my job doesn't pay, but it's ultimately more important than any job. It's very hard to let Andre earn the money and not feel guilty when, for example, I want to buy a lip gloss. He's never made me feel like it's not my money too, but I feel that way. That's been the biggest thing.

I've gone a bit off track, but I don't care. I am not going to edit.

What I learned from ELR. Ray was all jealous of his brother and how the kids wanted to spend time with him instead of their dad. Ray kept saying things like, "Going to the zoo is so boring" or whatever, I don't remember. But the upshot is that he was saying that sometimes being a parent can be mind-numbingly repetitive, boring, freedom-killing, etc. Ray eventually is exasperated and asks his brother how he can stand to spend all that time with the kids and he said something I thought was quite profound. And that is this: "It's not about you. It's about them. I don't do it for me. I do it for them."

That, my friends, is the lesson. And, I hate to admit it, but that has helped change my inner dialogue. I tell myself, "this is not about you." It's true. After all those years alone, Andre and I struggle with it not being about us. We're trying though. And, I believe, we are doing a good job. It's a learning process. It's a time of immense change. And it all happened overnight. So it's OK to feel this way. I am letting myself feel this way. So, having read all of this (if you did), please try not to think of me -- or him -- as an ogre. I think I am just stating what the vast majority of older, first-time parents probably feel, but don't want to admit.

I'm keeping it real, yo.