Answers

Have you tried Yahoo Answers yet? It's awesome. It's a forum where you can ask any manner of question and anyone can answer. I am not a big asker but man, am I suddenly an expert on everything when it comes to answering. My know-it-allism knows no bounds! It's really a blast. So far today I have told a woman that her boyfriend's baby is not "behind" because she is just starting to crawl at 10 months, I rewrote a sentence for some high school kid, and helped someone whose avatar is a thumb with the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit. All this, before 10:30 a.m.!

Yah, it's slow at work. And due to certain factors that I shan't write about from here, my will to pretend to care has wavered. Yes, I have found myself in the asylum and the inmates are most certainly running the joint.

Mary turned one. Naturally, she has an ear infection on her birthday, so we celebrated afterwards. We gave her a tickle me Elmo. The TMX. Toys have model numbers now, apparently. Anyway, this Elmo is technology's greatest triumph. He doesn't just laugh. He guffaws... he is actually the definition of the most hated internet speak: ROTFLOL. He rolls around and smacks the ground as he laughs. But most amazingly, HE GETS BACK UP. This, my friends, is a glorious time in which to live!

So, I wrote Mary a first birthday letter, just as I did for her marvy sister. I do share:

Mary-it’s your first birthday! I don’t get how you can already be one-it seems like you just got here. When Annie turned one, it felt like we had had her for ages but you still feel so new. Maybe it’s because you cried less than Annie or because I wasn’t working for most of your first year or because I worried that I might not get to have you. Whatever the reason, you are still a new surprise for us all, even after a full year.

Though your sister taught me many of the lessons I needed to survive a baby’s first year (namely patience, patience and more patience), I learned a lot from you, too.

You have been my little kangaroo baby, hanging on me for a year now. For the first 5 months you slept with Dad and me in our big bed. It was easier that way as there were no cold walks downstairs to fix you a bottle and cuddle you in the family room when you awoke crying. Since you breastfed, I simply nursed you back to sleep. Because of this I never suffered from the sleep deprivation that makes having a new baby so hard. This helped us like each other more, I think. You still breastfeed-my little baby bird nursing off to sleep or into wakefulness. I am not worried about this ending, our bond has been long formed and you are ready to let go, I think.

Always a mom’s girl, my little bean, but you are never out of smiles for everyone else. You were such an early smiler-and it wasn’t just the gassy grins, either. You smile and bounce as you seek out the attention from Daddy, Ryan and Annie and you smile and bounce when inevitably this attention comes your way.

Though you look more and more like your sister as the days pass, you are really such a little YOU. You are so consolable, regardless of what upsets you, but when you are upset you make it very clear. You love to laugh. Love it. Giggle diggle we say to you. You love swings. You love eating. You love when people talk to you (but you sly girl, you act like you don’t as you bury your head into my shoulder trying to conceal your obvious smirk). You love your bag of tricks, both new and old: clapping, waving (and now saying “bye bye”), standing, stairs, combing your own hair, it’s all so much fun.

There is something about you that I don’t really have a handle on yet. I feel like you still have a lot to show us as far as your personality goes and I can’t wait to see who you become.

Another word about the kangaroo

I have withheld some history regarding myself and the kangaroo. Here's what: I have from time to time found kangaroos sexy. Now before you judge, go to yahoo and in the search box type in "kangaroo photos". Peruse the photos of kangaroos. Notice the smoldering looks. They see the camera; they see through the camera. They see you and they want you, baby.

As you do.

I am not into beastialilty. This all started when I worked for publisher A. We published a new grammar book and in it was a stock photograph of a kangaroo, in repose. I looked at it, then looked again. When I found myself looking a third time, I brought the picture over to my friend Ms. Berg and asked her, "um, do you think he's kind of hot?". She had to admit that yes, the kangaroo was rather hot. Later Ms. Berg cut the photo out of the book and presented it to me framed. I kept it on my desk until I left the job and later, even though I needed a frame that was just that size, I couldn't remove my kangaroo boyfriend.

I say "he" but I don't know. How can you tell? There was no pouch but the picture wasn't shot from an angle that would have shown the pouch anyway. And what does it matter if this kangaroo, nay all sexy kangaroos, are male or female? I'm not gay but I'm not like, going to date them. I'm just admiring another species. In a sexual way.

I am presuming that male kangaroos don't have pouches. Maybe they do, decorative ones that serve no purpose, kind of like nipples on men. Or maybe kangamen are very involved in the rearing of the babies and actually use their pouches like their own built-in baby bjorns.

Boing.

Why Kangaroo Life?

When I was pregnant with my second daughter, I was trying to learn as much about breastfeeding as I could. I kept coming across this unfamiliar term: kangaroo care. As I understood it, this was a certain kind of mothering that involved just kind of strapping the baby on and keeping him or her as close to you as possible, with the boob available for snacking. The concept was a little too hands on for me, but the idea stuck with me, especially when Mary was born and became my pal joey; in my pouch as much as I'd allow. But it's not just Mary I carry with me, I thought. Aren't all of our pouches sort of overflowing with the things we carry? Aren't we all just a bunch o' kangaroos?

Friendships, family, memories, friends...the older I get the more I carry. I am not sure what the capacity is for a pouch but I started thinking that if I don't empty mine I might lose some of it. So this is my blog, here for safe keeping.

I imagine what I will mostly write about is what weighs me down the most which also happen to be the things that make me hop. Yeah, I don't get that either. Boing.