Title

So I decided to change the title of this blog. The old title felt outdated. It was a remnant from times past, from my days as a graduate student studying German lit., and I felt like I needed a change. I'm not sure I'll keep this current title, but I like it for now. I sing this song to Luke on a daily basis, and so much of my day is directed at Luke, that it feels like an appropriate title. Sometimes I forget that I am a separate being from Luke, and I think that's a good thing early on when Luke and I were finding each other's rhythm. I was inspired by a post at Sweet Juniper yesterday about staying at home with your baby/toddler. This non-self proclaimed stay at home dad calls himself a professional daydreamer, and I like that.

In case anybody still checks my blog, "Look! I've posted!"

Okay, so it's been almost an entire year since I've posted anything here. I really wanted to get rid of the lovely belly shots that come up every time I look at my blog, which admittedly isn't very often.
So, here is my "welcome back to blogging post", although I still can't guarantee much, not with a 6 1/2 month old crawling around my feet. I had a boy. His name is Luke, and he's incredible. At first I didn't know what I would do with a boy, and now I don't know what I would do without him. He's very cuddly, and he doesn't really cry. He yells whenever he wants something or needs us. He also growls and makes other scary noises. He sits up, eats, sleeps, poops, and giggles a lot. He doesn't miss a trick.
In other news, Zoe, the family dog, died this past Sunday. She was almost 11 years old and had a very good life. It's still sad. I'm 400 miles away, and it still makes me cry. No more walks and howls when I walk through the door. She was Ashley's dog, so I like to think that the two of them are together again.

Here's to hoping I can post more often.

Ups and Downs

Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my blog. Today I started my new job as a group supervisor for an afterschool program. There are good things happening, and it's all so emotional. I feel like I'm coping, though. I always keep in mind that the opposite of depression is not happiness, but resilience.

Etepetete

It's pronounced 'ate a potatah', like the way a Bostonian would say 'potato'. (At least that's the way my husband says it when he tells me "his ont keeps her potatahs and her khakis (the ones to her Chevy) in the bottom cabinet draw"). It's German for "overly particular", which I can sometimes be. I spent way too much time thinking of a title for this blog. I had ideas ranging from "Grimacing Violet" (suggested by my husband) to "Nocreativetitlewhatsoeverforthisblog", which could be a German word from the looks of it. So anyway, I'm only overly particular about particular things. For instance, I'm particular about the water droplets in and around the sink (I don't like them there). And I'm particular about putting too much hydrogenated soybean oil and high fructose corn syrup into my mouth, the noise volume in our living room when the Red Sox get a run (although I'm also secretly happy when they win and the Yankees lose), how I fall asleep, how hot the room is, my friends, and how often I can run. The bad news is, where my neuroses end, my husband's pick up. I'm not too particular about the cleanliness of my car, but he has what some might call 'auto-hypochondria'. It's a chronic condition that never lets up. The tires need constant caressing. We listen attentively for noises which remain unidentifiable and cause fits of hair pulling and never-ending trips to the mechanic. I am, however, grateful for my safe and smoothly-running car. I'm also grateful for my husband's ever-expanding patience and support when my particulars turn me into a particularly moody, vengeful, no-longer-able-to-produce-coherent-words wife. I'm more than happy to be called a grimacing violet.