Hello.

Boredom? Your guess is as good as mine.

All day long as things happen: the petty, the significant, they all run through my head in the form of written language, like how you'd read about it in a novel or something. Like out of the blue Milo suddenly hollers and then blows a raspberry and drools. And instead of thinking "wow that kid is loud" or whatever, this is what is running through my head: He screeches so loud that the poor dog jolts up from her gleeful dream where all the squirrels of the neighborhood are publicly apologiziong for tormenting her. And just as she's recovering from the screecher creature's ear-piercing announcement of his whereabouts, he blows a raspberry so wet she has to stand up and shake herself dry before finding a different napping spot as far away from the jumparoo as possible. Then I chuckle to myself because I just made it a lot more amusing in my head than it was in real life and bend down to pick Milo up and plant a big kiss on his fuzzy little head to say "hey, kid! Thanks for the inspiration, keep it comin'!" So you see, in my mind I've been blogging several times a day. But it's been brought to my attention that that sort of blogging doesn't really count in real life. So here it is; a forced sit-your-arse-down-and-type-something post.

The only thing I can think to say now that I'm actually typing instead of clicking around mindlessly on the internet is: "geez Milo is growing so fast." For some reason he seems to be growing up faster than Amelia did. Is it normal for it to be that way with a second child? And I've been struggling lately with guilt. That nasty Mama Guilt. Well, there's been lots of different sources for that but lately it's that I feel like I'm missing some of Milo's baby-ness. I know it boils down to just having more in my life this time around, more than when Amelia was a baby. Another child at the very least, more things to distract me and take my attention away from him. (And then of course there's been the fact that Amelia has to now deal with not being the only kid. Which, actually, she has done so gracefully and wonderfully that I am very thankful for. But I still feel bad that she doesn't get the one-on-one like she used to.) Not that it's possible to give both children my undivided attention all the time. I guess I just wish I could. Or something. Or Jackie's rambling again. I have my blog up in another window so I can listen to the playlist and Mack The Knife just came on so it's hard to continue with the gloom and doom while that song is on. Funny how a chipper tune can change one's mood in the blink of an eye. Especially when it's a song about a murderer! What is it about music that connects so deeply and triggers emotions... melody, beat, tune? All of the above carefully put together? "And the four right chords can make me cry" Who was that, Third Eye Blind? Hmm. No, I'm not even drunk. You'd think....

It is late though. I'd better just click "publish" before I re-read through this and decide it's too fragmented with too many tangents and blah blah blah.....

Happy Independence Day!

And here's to getting back into the




of things. Blogging, that is.

(I'd love to gradually decorate my home with independent artists' work, like the print above from carambatack's etsy shop. So special to know a little bit about the peices hanging on the walls around you, even if it's only the person's name and the fact that it wasn't mass-produced.)