I'm weaning Ryder, and you wouldn't believe the tremendous amount of guilt I'm experiencing. HUGE amounts of self-imposed guilt. And I don't know why.

Ryder was five months old yesterday ... we've been supplementing with formula for a while, so it won't be a drastic change. He's taking rice cereal, and we'll start vegetables any day now. I shouldn't feel guilty, but I do.

I have mixed feelings about my body being totally mine again. Though I suppose nothing will ever be totally mine again, and I'm so OK with that.

We'll soon enter the next hormonal phase ... then, perhaps the rollercoaster will slow a bit. Holy shit, it has been a crazy year.

Everybody's Changing

You say you wander your own land
But when I think about it
I don't see how you can
You're aching, you're breaking
And I can see the pain in your eyes
Says everybody's changing
And I don't know why

So little time
Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
Trying to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing
And I don't feel the same

You're gone from here
Soon you will disappear
Fading into beautiful light
Because everybody's changing
And I don't feel right

So little time
Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
Trying to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing
And I don't feel the same

Keane

A little late, but I hope everyone had a Happy Easter.

When did it become the unwritten rule that blogging activity only occurs during the week?

Apparently I need some weekend entertainment when the baby is sleeping. Common sense says I should be sleeping myself.

It really appeared over night, and it explains the fussiness in the wee morning hours.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have our first tooth.

When I picked him up after work, Ryder's daily daycare report read: "Congratulations on his bottom teeth. Watch out -- I will bite! :)"

In case I've prompted you to purchase the Gwen Stefani album, it's my responsibility to warn you that it's terrible. Seriously. And the Hollaback song is annoying by the third listen.

I am wishy-washy.

The pressure ... a day has passed, and now I'm not so sure I have anything for you, though I appreciate the encouragement. Just to update, I'm putting the house-buying on hold for the moment. Lots of reasons, but mainly, I have my GUT to thank. Thanks a lot gut, I hate you, and I hope you're wrong.

So, let's start with the babble.

"A few times I’ve been around that track, so it’s not just goin' to happen like that. Because I ain’t no HOLLABACK GIRL. I ain’t no HOLLABACK GIRL."

I've seen her all over the place lately ... SNL Saturday then Letterman last night, and I can't help it (really, I can't), but I love the new Gwen Stefani song.

"Let me hear you say this shit is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S (This shit is bananas) (B-A-N-A-N-A-S)"

I know how dumb the lyrics are, but the beat rocks. Take life less seriously.

Um, yeah, so we actually did go out Saturday night, we just got home in time to catch the second song on SNL. We went to a wedding, then a reception, at which we -- OK I, became one of those people who leaves the baby at home then does nothing but talk about the baby all night long. And yes, I talked about nursing at a table for 10.

I tried to be discrete as I asked question after question of the mother of an eight-month-old. I view her as a fountain of wisdom with nearly twice as much real-time parenting experience than I; it was simply an opportunity I couldn't let pass. Surely you understand.

"They're talking about breastfeeding," I heard one girl whisper across the table, and I immediately flashed her a smile.

There's no time, and today, I'm of little interest to me. But, really, this shit is bananas.

My sense of self is often shaky, but I’m nothing if not dependable. Dependably neurotic -- yet normal by the least publicized definition.

I have stuff for you.

Apparently I like my houses like I like my beans. RANCH STYLE.

RANDOM:

I just corrected a typo after writing "RANDSOM" instead of "RANDOM." I'm aware that RANDSOM is not a word.

Why do people keep coming to my site as a result of searching for pregnant pictures? WTF?

I miss last weekend's weather. This 40-some-odd-degree business makes me cold. And you were expecting a different result?

It's a slow-motion kind of week; the reason why is not entirely clear to me, though it could go back to the previous point made.

I'm committed to attending book club next week for the first time since Ryder's birth, no matter that I haven't read the book. Or that I'm not even aware of the title.

Forgive me if I've said that before, then never showed at Double Dave's.

We still need to file our taxes, and my state inspection is nearly due. However, I did manage to get my vehicle serviced last week (only 7K miles past the dealer recommendation), which included an oil change and the balancing and rotating of my tires. Unfortunately, they ran out of time before getting to the inspection, and I had already arrived to pick up the truck. I didn't much feel like waiting another 30 minutes in the lobby with an infant on a beautiful Saturday afternoon; it had nothing to do with not wanting to make them work past closing time on such a day.

I suppose the to-do list isn't completely in vain, though most things accomplished aren't even on it nowadays.

I wrote this yesterday. It was much colder then.

Juggling seems to be getting more difficult instead of easier. You know how work seems to just build at times? It's doing that. The weekends have never seemed so very short. Perhaps I need a day off.

I talked to a family member last night for 74 minutes straight, not really listening to myself and not much thinking of my words until after the fact. In hindsight, I realize what a snot I must have sounded like. Am I becoming a snot? Maybe I'm just overwhelmed, though that's not much of an excuse.

Things are generally good, and there's very little to complain about, but my head is all over the place. There are demands coming from every direction. I'm being stretched. I hope the result is my being more limber and not my breaking.

Also contributing to feelings of being overwhelmed: We looked at a house we LOVED this weekend. Did I mention that we love it? But we're not buying it. Not yet.

Love is:

There is so much going on, so much on the calendar, that I'm bound to forget something. Something will certainly be completely overlooked. My brain is in overdrive.

Ryder had his four-month check up yesterday and more SHOTS. SHOTS that have resulted in fever for the past 15+ hours. 101.2 at 2 a.m. is bad for me, but much worse for the poor, achy, little pooter-head. At last check (4:15 p.m.) the fever was an even 100 degrees. It's nothing to get excited about -- it's been up-and-down, up-and-down all day long. My parents are truly wonderful human beings. Have I mentioned that?

As of Saturday, Ryder has a new cousin. Maybe. That's a long story. But his name is Hayden Ryan. Same last name as ours. Hayden Ryan is quite similar to Harrison Ryder, no? ("Wha? You mean, just because the first names both begin with H-A and the middle names both begin with R-Y? You think that's similar?," my husband asked with drippy sarcasm.)

So yeah, two HRMs, four months apart. I didn't think that it would bother me. I was wrong; it bugs the hell out of me.

I am posting because today is March 1. HairKnot has existed since March 2004. March to March. Before that, there was Seventh Grade Band (March 2003 to March 2004). The establishment of Luckey Girl and departure of GolfGirl got me thinking of this.

Anyway, check out Lauri's new site when you have a minute.