Uppercase Woman

Stupid Vanity

So, Saturday I took Tori to the pool for a few hours. From 11am to 2pm. And while I lathered Tori up repeatedly in 60+ sunblock, did I do the same for myself?

No.

Why not? This is so stupid I want to hang my head in shame.

Because I wanted to get a bit of a tan. Why? Because of BlogHer.

I've seen a gazillion posts about people losing weight, getting new shoes, and doing other various things to prepare for the convention. Me? I decide to go for a "healthy glow" and end up with fucking sun poisoning. I feel like crap and I can't wear a bra without severe pain. Now, instead of looking all relaxed and bronzed, I'll be a peeling ugly mess at the convention.

I am, officially, AN IDIOT.

PS: Please skip the skin cancer lectures. I KNOW. I already said I was an idiot.

_____________________________________

Please regale me with tales of vanity that backfired on you. As I lay about and moan while popping ibuprofen like a lunatic with my boobs all akimbo, I will be able to laugh and enjoy your misery as well. And thank you in advance. :D

4th of July: Video Post

I'm sure you'll find this fascinating, but here is our family's celebration of the holiday. Includes parade, dinner, and fireworks -- all under three minutes. I promise plenty of Tori clips are mixed in there. Enjoy! :)

July 4th, 2009 from Cecily Kellogg on Vimeo.

Things I've Been Meaning To Mention That Are Of No Particular Importance

1. Tori has gotten much, much better. We're not sure if it's the attitude adjustment on our part (which has been a biggy) or that she's had a major breakthrough developmentally related to language. Dudes, this kid can TALK. One night on vacation as I lay in bed with her trying to get her to sleep she did -- literally -- an hour long lecture on everything from what happened that day to a variety of stories about her stuffed animals. She's been talking, and well, for ages, but now she can really speak AT LENGTH. And how.

2. Sarah has another show. It's already been up for a month or so but it's running through August so if you are in the Philadelphia area please stop at 21st and South Streets to admire the amazing photography of my very bestest friend. And, of course, buy lots of her stuff so she has money and stuff.

3. I would have thought this was obvious, but a bunch of folks have asked, so... YES I AM GOING TO BLOGHER AGAIN. It's in Chicago this year and I'm leaving in three short weeks. Whee! Yes, Sarah is going with me again too although she'll be out being a photographer during the day and I'll be at the convention seeing a bunch of people I adore. I won't do one of those braggy "omg I'm gonna see such-and-such famous blogger" posts (mostly because for me the awesome part of the conference is the conversations in quiet corners that happen -- Military Mama, I'm talkin' about you) but I will say this: after five long years of online camaraderie and friendship, I am finally going to meet Julia in person for the first time. I may spend the whole weekend hugging her tight, so if you see a hot blond at BlogHer with a short, fat redhead attached to her leg, that would be us.

4. Speaking of conferences... have I mentioned that I'm a speaker at the awesome new Type-A Mom Conference? No? Oops. Sorry. I am. I'm a super psyched. I hope you can all come, it's gonna rock da house. Seriously, check out the speakers. DA-YUM I am humbled by their company.

5. Um, I also had another column up over at Alpha Mom. Yeah, it was like two weeks ago already, but I totally forgot to mention it with vacation and all. Sorry. Check it out now, if ya don't mind. It's funny. I think. 

That's it, I think. Is there anything you forgot to tell me? :D

Farrah and Women on Television

When Charlie's Angels was on television the first time, I didn't watch it. Our TV died when I was about five years old (in my memory, it was smack in the middle of an Easter Bunny special too), and my mother chose to not replace it. I think this was mostly good for me, because it turned me into a big time reader (which I still am today). The only issue I have with it was that I always, always lost at TV Tag (did you play that as a kid? You had to shout out the name of a television show when the person that was "it" tried to get you and then you froze and were "safe"), and now as an adult I cannot ignore a television screen when it's in my view (for instance, if I'm at a restaurant that has a TV where I can see it I won't hear anything being said at the table because I get totally drawn to the TV like a moth to a flame; I can't tune it out).

(There were a lot of parentheticals in that paragraph, weren't there?)

But I do remember the hype about Charlie's Angels. Because my mother commented on it. As a 1970s feminist, she was absolutely disgusted with the show and its premise: three "sexy" women detectives that answered to an unseen male who sent them routinely into dangerous territory. I can certainly see her point, but I think she missed out on the absolutely revolutionary nature of the show: it was the first time a television show featured smart, independent, ambitious young women fighting to utilize their talents in their careers (after all, they tried to all be cops but were stuck behind desks because it was the 70s, after all).

I've been thinking about that since Farrah's terribly sad death last week at the hands of a rather brutal cancer (seriously, I can't think of a worse way to go than anal cancer). What I remember most about Farrah Fawcett isn't her Charlie's Angels role (I think it was only a season or two, right?) but her 80s comeback when she starred in two very revolutionary roles in the  movies of Extremities and The Burning Bed. I watched Extremities after I'd fought off my own would-be rapist in the winter of 1986, and was profoundly effected by the movie. Watching Farrah quiver and softly testify in the courtroom scenes in The Burning Bed was amazingly memorable too; to this day I can picture those scenes.

Since Charlie's Angels, there have only been a tiny handful of shows that have centered on women characters; there was the fantastic Cagney and Lacey (how much do you love Sharon Gless and her chain smoking character on Burn Notice?), of course. Kate and Allie. I'm sure you can all remember a few more. But they have been few and far between; while many shows now feature the one strong, smart, complicated woman (Mariska Hagartay in Law & Order SVU, for instance), until very recently the airwaves remained dominated by men.

I was struck while I was thinking about Charlie's Angels and the legacy of that show with just how many shows I am personally watching (and invested in) right now that have women stars. Not just women, either, but messy and complicated and emotionally fascinating women. I'm talking about shows (all of these are on the air right now) like The Closer with Kyra Sedgewick (I loved how she carried around her dead cat's ashes this week while solving a huge crime and facing down not only her boss but her husband and the whole FBI). Then there is the unbelievably awesome Saving Grace starring Holly Hunter. Not only are those two shows STARRING women but they are also executive produced by the stars. And there is the new Hawthorne, starring Jada Pinkett Smith (the weakest show on this list by far, but I have hope, and it fills the hole left by ER just a bit). Kudos to TNT for featuring these shows.

There's also In Plain Sight, which I fucking love because it not only features the amazing main star as a federal marshall but two other remarkable actresses in lead roles as her sister and her mother. Then there is the new show starring Edie Falco called Nurse Jackie, and of course there is Weeds (which I'm not loving so far this season, but I stand by the show).

I think each of these shows owe a debt to Farrah Fawcett and the rest of the cast of Charlie's Angels, even if the television networks were (are) all a bunch of sexist idiots by taking this long to get to this point. You'll also note that all of these shows are on cable, and NOT the big three (or four) networks; we still have a long way to go.

But I'm grateful for the strength showed by a blond praised only for her "California" beauty and mostly ignored for her immense talent. It's making my summer far more entertaining--and empowering. Rest in peace, Farrah. And thank you.

Food, Health, and why YES I'm still in a good fucking mood

Tomorrow at the ungodly hour of 7:30 am Charlie is getting an ultrasound of his gall bladder. Why? Well, he had a handful of super painful abdominal "attacks" that may be related to gall stones. (Or, as he likes to point out, pancreatic cancer.) While we've been waiting for the test, one of the ways he's been trying to treat the problem is by following a low-fat diet for the first time in his life. It's worked very well and he hasn't had an attack since he started keeping his fat content down to about 40-50 grams a day.

That might seem like a lot of fat, but in truth, we had developed some VERY bad habits as a family. Slowly but surely our diet went this way: okay breakfast, possibly okay lunch, then some fucking crap for dinner. Take-out or fast food or pizza. Then, without us even realizing it, Tori went on a food strike and one of the few things we could get her to eat regularly was a Happy Meal, and suddenly, we were eating fast food a couple days a week for both lunch AND dinner.

I know.

Tori stopped her hunger strike ages ago but we kept on eating the crap. Until my birthday (April 26) which was the last day either of us had any fast food (okay, not true -- I ate Taco Bell once since then out of desperation one night but I kept it somewhat healthy).

It's quite possible that Charlie's stomach ailment was, basically, Super Size Me syndrome (we'll know more after the test tomorrow). I didn't realize how much the food was making me feel generally crappy, because we were staying generally active and I also didn't gain any weight (I know! I can't believe it either). But I did. I felt CRAPPY. My digestion was off, I felt sluggish and tired all the time. It sucked.

Since my birthday, we've drastically changed our diet as a family. Both of us have started incorporating lower fat food into our diet. This was easy for me, I'm an old hand at moderating my food intake, but was all new to Charlie. He frequently marveled over the fat grams in some food item ("Did you know these Cheese Danishes have 35 grams of fat?!"), and couldn't believe how many grams of fat he was eating a day (more like 40-50 grams per meal instead of per day, plus a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before bed).

In typical male fashion, Charlie's dropped nearly twenty pounds and is now weighing what he did when we first started dating (with a little help from a stomach flu in the spring). Fucker. Heh. I've also lost about twenty pounds, but you can't really notice it on me yet (maybe if I manage to drop another ten). Charlie both looks and feels better, and so do I.

The only thing we haven't yet been firm about adding to our routine is exercise, but that has changed in the last week. Since I've felt my antidepressants kick in, I've felt very motivated to GET OUT AND DO THINGS, and I keep dragging Charlie behind me in my wake. We've been walking every evening for about an hour (it's not a long walk, but with Tori, it takes a while because the whole world is just so DARNED FASCINATING AND MUST BE EXAMINED IN MINUTE DETAIL), plus our hiking and swimming (at the pool I've been taking the time to go do some laps in the deep end). I feel sure that we are on our way to a much more healthy, active life style.

The funny thing about the dietary changes is that never, not once in all the years I've been with Charlie (17 years this November, holy fucking crap) have we ever changed our food as a FAMILY. In the time we've been together I've ballooned up in weight four times and lost it three; once with drugs (not recommended, very very expensive), once with a rigid weigh-and-measure-every-morsel-plus-no-white-flour-or-sugar diet, and once with Giant Weight Loss company counting points. All those times I ate alone, eating food I made for myself, while Charlie ate his normal food and chips and cookies. Doing it as a family is not only easier; it doesn't feel like I'm dieting. (It doesn't feel like I'm dieting because, well, I'm not; I'm just eating more low fat, which is not the same thing at all.)

The funny thing is, of course, that healthy eating begats healthy eating (sorry about the begats lately; perhaps it's a new favorite word). The more healthy food I eat, the more I WANT. The more likely I am to just not consider crappy food as an option. Combined with my new found exercise enthusiasm, well, it's no wonder I feel like a new person, eh?

We still do take out; but we stick to things that are lower fat (Vietnamese, for instance) and make better choices. I am cooking more, which is great, and we've found some pre-packaged foods that are healthy and work for us when we don't feel like cooking. It's been great.

I'm not sharing this to brag or anything like that. I just feel like my life has turned around and I wanted to share it with you all. Spring has sprung in Cecilyville, y'all. It's kinda fucking awesome. Wish Charlie luck tomorrow and think good thoughts, will you? :)

Depression: Flipping The Switch (and 23andMe contest winner, at the end)

So, as of today, I have been taking a low-dose of antidepressants for 29 days. And dudes, it’s like someone flipped a switch in the last few days. It's unfuckingbelievable.

A bit of this is also related to vacation, of course. Unplugging from the internet is a really fucking good idea; I don’t think I quite knew how much time I was spending on it. Since I’ve been home (we got home Friday afternoon), I’ve closed the laptop quite often and turned my attention to other things. So there’s that. When Charlie and I went hiking alone (well, with the dog, but sans Tori) on Wednesday, that was another awakening. It was like we woke up from our parenting coma and remembered who we are. WE ARE HIKERS. It is our favorite thing to do together. Boy, how we’ve missed it these last five or six years (my exercise restrictions during ART and pregnancies made us lose our habit of hiking). We’ve resolved to have my mother babysit during the day once a week or so and skip the movies and go hike instead. So there’s that too.

But honestly, right before we left for vacation I felt the veil lifting. And then mid-week (while I had my fucking period, because OF COURSE I got my period on vacation), it was like the sun was suddenly shining – ON MY SOUL. (Sorry. That is a sucky metaphor, but it’s just true, damn it.)

I didn’t notice until we got home. Saturday morning I woke up with the urge to DO something. Within an hour of waking up, the four of us (Charlie, me, Tori, and the dog) were on the trail at the Wissahickon, an awesome place for a nice walk. We hiked about three miles (Tori needed a shoulder ride the last half-mile or so), stopped somewhere for a healthy lunch, and then came home for Tori’s nap. When she woke up, WE WENT TO THE POOL. Busy. Active.

Dudes, this is how I ALWAYS used to be. Before I began infertility treatments, I used to get up, go for a two-mile walk with not only my dog but also the neighbor’s dog, come home, shower and THEN go to work. I’d go to the gym at lunch. Then on weekends we’d be up and out of the house to either go hiking or camping, weather permitting. Never a dull moment. About once every ten days or so, I’d collapse on the couch, refuse to wear a bra, and watch television all day.

But then it flipped. After the infertility treatments and losing the boys, I was not wearing a bra and watching television all day all but ONE day in ten. Then I went back to work and I tried to reclaim my old life but the whole year between pregnancies was like walking through waist-deep mud; my therapist at the time was sympathetic to my desire to not take medications (stupid, stupid, STUPID of me), and felt that my depression was “situational” rather than “chronic” so she didn’t push me. Then there was the pregnancy with Tori, and in the haze of early parenting and working outside the home I didn’t really feel any need to reclaim my life, or really any awareness that I needed to (and perhaps, at that time, I didn’t NEED to).

But now, three years later, I’ve been feeling itchy. Really, I’ve felt itchy for a year. Last summer we didn’t do much (except that failed attempt to own a place in the mountains, a very bad attempt to get our old life back), and I just do not want this summer to go by in a haze again.

Watching Charlie’s attitude completely transform after taking his antidepressants was a revelation. His anxiety is reduced to normal levels. He’s eating healthily (related to a health scare, but still). He’s dropped nearly twenty pounds, and I fully believe part of that is related to the decrease in cortisol he has because he's not so stressed out all the time. He has far more patience for me, and for Tori, and even for the dog.

I wanted that to.

So off I went to see a therapist, and she said, DUDE YOU TOTALLY NEED MEDICATION and I was relieved. And now, I cannot believe the difference. I wake up energized and rested. I feel focused and relaxed at the same time. I feel happy. Most of this really energized and relaxed stuff has happened in the last five days or so, right about when you’d expect to start seeing some response to the medication.

But I just feel like I’m back in my body again.

Yesterday I got up with Tori at 7:30am. Normally, I’d give her some breakfast, turn on PBS Sprout, and doze on the couch for an hour before even contemplating doing anything. Often, we’d all still be in pajamas at lunchtime if we didn’t have to be anywhere. But yesterday we got up, she ate breakfast, then we built an 11-foot alphabet puzzle. Then she played some video games on the computer with my help. Then I was bored, and I said, “Let’s go for a walk!” So we got dressed, grabbed the dog, and went for a nice long walk. We were out for two hours. I got back at 11am, and Tori played with her toys for a bit before having lunch and taking her nap. I ate a ridiculously healthy lunch (seriously, it was crazy) and rested a bit myself. Then after dinner, I went for a walk AGAIN with the whole family. I didn’t yell at Tori at all; I mean, I still had to discipline her a few times but I didn’t feel at all frazzled while I did it, just relaxed and in control. It’s amazing.

I feel like ME. I feel like the old me. I used to be a get-up-and-go person, not a drag-my-ass-behind-me person. It’s AWESOME. Let’s hope it’s not just a vacation induced fluke. I really hope I get to keep this level of energy. I like feeling good! And I’m trying to not resent the fact that I didn’t do this five years ago. I feel good NOW. Time to make use of that NOW.

Damn. Maybe I will turn into a fucking happy ass Mommy Blogger after all. Heh.

____________________________________

It's time to announce the winner for the free DNA testing from 23andMe. Dudes, if I could, I'd give each of you a test. Some of the comments were so compelling that I really feel horrible I only have one to give away.

I did not pick the winner; I used a random number generator to do so. And the winner is...

Kim! (kimba1030 at bigtelephonecompany.net). Kim, I'll forward your information to the folks at 23andMe and let them get in contact with you to discuss the free kit. 

If you didn't win, I AM SO SORRY. But you do have the chance to get $50 off a kit RIGHT NOW. Go to 23andMe, order a kit, and enter this code to get the discount:

Code: 7VFTNW

It's only good for the first ten folks that buy a kit in the next two days. Again, I wish I could give everyone the discount too. But if you are interested, now is your chance to save $50.

Congratulations to the winner!

Hi, we're home!

Oh hi! How are you? I think that might have been the longest internet absence I've experienced in years. Whoa. I did check in with the iPhone but the signal was inconsistent so it got annoying after a bit. But we are glad to be home! We enjoyed the trip quite a bit, but it was also nice to be back in our own bed. Here's a brief photo summary of the vacation. :)

Sadly, on the way to the "cabin" (a four bedroom, two full bath house with fully stocked everything -- these guys ROCK -- plus a hot tub barely qualifies as a cabin, frankly), I hit a deer. THAT SUCKED. I still have nightmares about a chipmunk I hit eight years ago, so you can imagine how I felt about the deer. We weren't driving that fast, and I didn't hit her hard enough to deploy the airbags (or even lock the seat belts) but I hit her right in the hip with the passenger side corner of the car. I saw her cross again after I hit her and she was limping. ARG. Here's the damage to the car:

Sigh.

We were greeted at the house by a big-ass moth. HUGE. Beautiful, too. It made Sarah so nervous that her photo of the moth is blurry because she was shaking. Heh. That's my hand in the photo.

Tori very much enjoyed the hot tub even though we had to keep taking her out for five-minute cool down periods every twenty minutes or so which she totally didn't get. I also enjoyed the hot tub (another photo of Sarah's).

We managed to keep her busy enough that she slept GREAT in the "big bed" that was in her room. Thanks for the tips on Facebook and twitter, folks; we pushed it up against the wall on one side and then put pillows on the outside of the bed and she never fell out. Perfect. AND she transitioned back to the crib at home no problem. (Whew.)

 

On Wednesday, Charlie and I left Tori with Sarah and family and headed out to Skyline Drive for a short hike with Bubba (also known as Hammer the best dog ever, TM). While it was only 2.4 miles long, it involved 835 feet of climbing, which we didn't discover until after we'd done the hike (we would SO not have started out the hike if we'd known how much climbing was involved). It totally rocked. Charlie and I really enjoyed chatting on the way up, we had a lovely lunch at the peak, and views are always better when you hike to them. It really reminded us how much we love to hike, and showed us that we can still do it. Here's the view from Compton Peak (mile post 10.4 on Skyline Drive).

 

The hike wiped poor Bubba out though. He is not the dog he was, poor old guy.

Thursday we checked out the "lake" that was part of the community the "cabin" was in. It was VERY small, and while looked a bit swampy at first, turned out to be a lovely place to swim. Tori LOVED it. Sarah and family left Thursday night, and Charlie and I ran around the cabin naked after Tori went to bed just for fun. Heh. Then we drove home, which was hellish thanks to CONSTANT construction on I-95, and came home to the news about Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. Sad.

We still feel a bit like we're on vacation, so here's some bonus shots. After we got home yesterday Tori needed to run off some energy so we let her play in the sprinkler...

Today we woke up and decided to enjoy a local hike before lunch. After I trimmed Tori's bangs and totally did NOT fuck them up. Heh.

Tori managed the first two-and-a-half miles of hiking but then needed a lift. Daddy obliged.

Now Tori is napping, I'm blogging, and later we're headed to the pool. What an awesome and relaxing week. How was it for you?

The Habit of Complaint

Years ago, when I had just finished being part of a group of people helping to organize a recovery conference, I realized I needed more help in my personal recovery than what I was getting from meetings that dealt strictly with my personal addiction. I needed help with the way I was in relationships, in how I dealt with other people, and with my family. The truth was, even though I'd been sober half a dozen years, I was still pretty crazy and I was a prickly, irritable, judgmental BITCH.

So, with a bit of resentment and trepidation, I began attending a second recovery program, one that helped me work on the issues that I have that are related to my family history of alcoholism (my father, my mother's father, my husband) instead of my personal alcoholism. I learned a great deal. I realized that the disease of alcoholism had poisoned everyone in my family, even those that didn't drink, and that we all sick, co-dependent and had firmly entrenched controlling behaviors and mechanisms. We'd used all of those behaviors to cope with the side effects of alcoholism (or some of us learned them from others), and for me, I realized that the time had come to shake off those behaviors because I simply didn't need them anymore.

My "mentor" at the time gave me some very simple instructions that have become very important to me. First of all, she told me to quit rolling my eyes. EVER. You cannot imagine how hard this was, because I was the heavy-sigh with a big eye roll QUEEN. Then she told me that I was not allowed to complain about Charlie to my girlfriends anymore; if I had a problem with Charlie I was allowed to talk to her or Charlie about it ONLY.

Her point was the complaining created more complaining, and that complaining manufactured its own level of unhappiness. If I set up the dynamic with my girlfriends that all we talked about was how awful and annoying our significant others were, we were always highlighting their bad side and never thinking about what was good and honorable and lovable about them.

It was hard. But I did it. And the worst part was, when I didn't complain about Charlie to my friends, they also didn't complain about their partners. It was me, instigating it, and me perpetuating it. I was creating my own negativity and unhappiness.

The change was a good one. It helped me fall back in love with Charlie, and it gave me a new freedom that was wonderful. I wish I could say I've held to that rule perfectly; after all, a lot of difficult times have happened since those early years in that program (you know, infertility, losing the twins, having Tori, etc) and I might whine a bit to Sarah now and again. But overall, I no longer dominate conversations with other women by complaining about Charlie.

Now, I dominate conversations with other mothers by complaining about Tori.

In my last post, I wrote a bit about our continued struggles, and I've gotten... well, let's just say it got a response. I've had several emails and comments worrying about how hard it seems to be for us as a family, and how much I complain. Some folks were kind about it, and some folks were harsh.

My reaction was swift and immediate: I was defensive. I shot off angry emails. I moped and ranted to Sarah and Charlie. I couldn't sleep for thinking about it, I kept turning the comments over and over again in my head, and smoldered with anger.

Finally, last night, after another series of emails with someone, Charlie and I started talking about it, and I really tried to get to the root of why I was taking these emails so personally. I felt like I work hard to maintain a balance on this blog about how awesome Tori is, even when I complain about how challenging she is-- hence my defensiveness. But with confronted with someone asking me what I would do if I were forced to remove the labels from Tori of "head strong" and "challenging," what would I do? How would that change our relationship?

While there's nothing I can do to take away those descriptive terms about Tori -- they are facts -- I can, however, look at the act of complaining again. It's true, when you see me in person, I complain about how challenging I find mothering Tori. In fact, in the last few days, it's gotten to such a point that I was comparing parenting her to that scene in Office Space. You know, where the guy says, "Each day is worse than the day before it, so each day is the WORST DAY OF MY LIFE." I felt like each day was the WORST DAY of "dealing" with Tori.

And it hits me, last night, that I'm doing it again. I'm making myself deliberately unhappy by constantly complaining. Last night at a party at Sarah's house, another mom (a mom with three boys, two of the twins) said to me, "Tori is so GOOD!" and I scoffed. I scoffed!

I am such an asshole.

So Charlie and I decided last night that we are going to STOP the complaining.* (Charlie also realized that he complains about the dog, who has suffered mightily too with the constant rain and no walks.) We've decided to step away from our habit of unhappiness, and try to see if our relationship with Tori changes as a result.

We shall see.

But thanks again, folks, for making me look at myself.

________________________________________________________

Tomorrow morning we leave as a family (including the dog!) to go spend five days and four nights in Northern Virginia, near the Shenandoah National Forest. We're staying at one of these spots, which have amazing deals for mid-week stays. Sarah, her husband, her daughter and a friend will all be joining us, so we should have a really great time. BUT. We will NOT have internet access! (Ye Gods!) So posting from me will be sporadic at best. If you keep an eye on me on Facebook or my Twitter stream (which is in the right hand column of this blog) you might be able to see the occasional photo or update since I will have my iPhone. :) Have a great week, everyone!

*I will not become a sickly sweet happy mommy blogger, though. I might do a monthly post about the dark side of parenting just to keep balanced, but I will temper it. M'Kay?

It Turns Out Tori Really IS a Princess

So I have good news and bad news, but your personal perspective is going to determine which of the two things I'll mention now is which. Heh.

This is my last post for 23andMe *sob!*. I've loved working for them, and I've learned so much about not only DNA and science and stuff, but also about problogging and how to do it right. So I'm grateful that I had this opportunity.

The other news is this: remember all you folks that desperately wished you could take the 23andMe spit test and learn all the cool stuff that it's in your DNA? Now's your chance! I am excited to announce that 23andMe is sponsoring a contest on my blog for a FREE test! This is $399 value. All you have to do is leave a comment telling what aspect of the testing interests you the most and I will then RANDOMLY select a winner on June 29th. So you too can win a free DNA test from 23andMe! Here are the contest rules and regulations. PLEASE READ THEM before entering the contest.

So. The princess thing. Moving on.

Tori is in this... phase now. I know I often write about her stubbornness and her lack of cooperation and how frustrating she can be, and the thing is, well... she keeps getting worse. I know, I know, SHE'S THREE AND IT IS GOING TO SUCK FOR A WHILE. But lately she just is resistant to everything; getting her dressed in the morning is pretty much a war. I haven't been able to cut her nails, comb her hair, or brush her teeth in days. She's filthy and refuses to bathe, and I'm too tired and have been too sick to insist.

Combine this phase with a sudden burst of clinging to Mommy all the time, and newly discovered fears and anxieties, toss in the worst fucking spring/early summer I have ever experienced weather-wise (why oh WHY is it 60 degrees and rainy EVERY FUCKING DAY?), then mix in Tori's daycare ending about ten days ago and you've got some stressed out parents and a filthy, furious, determined child.

It's been AWESOME.

So imagine my surprise when I got an email the other day from the good folks at 23andMe telling me that they are offering "improved ancestry features" thanks to a partnership with the International Society of Genetic Geneology (ISOGG), and it turns out that the new information says that Tori REALLY IS A PRINCESS?

So what does it mean? (This is where I sound like I know a bunch about science, but rest assured, I do not.)

Each of us have descended from someone somewhere, right? Well, the group that you are descended from is your "Haplogroup" and is usually a bunch of letters and numbers (my maternal haplogroup, for instance is H6a (a subgroup of H6) and means, basically, I come from Europe. BIG SHOCK.

However, the new data offered as part of this partnership provides more specific information about paternal lines. Sadly, since I don't have access to my father's DNA, I didn't learn anything more about me and my family lines, but Charlie's group changed and gave some much more specific info. Charlie went from being just a plain old R1b1b2 to being a R1b1b2a1a2f. Like, wow, right?

To give you some context, Charlie went from showing his Haplogroup as being primarily of Irish descent to suddenly being IRISH ROYALTY. No, seriously. Here's a quote from the history of his Haplogroup on the 23andMe site:

Researchers have recently discovered that a large subset of men assigned to the haplogroup may be direct male descendants of an Irish king who ruled during the 4th and early 5th centuries. According to Irish history, a king named Niall of the Nine Hostages established the Ui Neill dynasty that ruled the island country for the next millennium.

Northwestern Ireland is said to have been the core of Niall's kingdom; and that is exactly where men bearing the genetic signature associated with him are most common. About 17% of men in northwestern Ireland have Y-chromosomes that are exact matches to the signature, and another few percent vary from it only slightly. In New York City, a magnet for Irish immigrants during the 19th and early 20th century, 2% of men have Y-chromosomes matching the Ui Neill signature. Genetic analysis suggests that all these men share a common ancestor who lived about 1,700 years ago. Among men living in northwestern Ireland today that date is closer to 1,000 years ago. Those dates neatly bracket the era when Niall is supposed to have reigned.

So, it turns out my crazy, fierce, challenging and filthy daughter is actually an IRISH PRINCESS. Here's more info about the King she's descended from (okay, it's not proven that Charlie is actually one of his descendants -- just some folks in his haplogroup are-- DON'T USE YOUR SILLY SCIENCE TO SCREW WITH MY PRINCESS THEORY).

Dudes. Do I have to sign her up for Irish Step Dancing now? Cause that whole ballet thing yesterday didn't work out unless you think me sitting on the floor with Tori in my lap the whole class was good. Sigh.

Anyway, that is that. Thanks to 23andMe for being so awesome and including me in it's amazing group of mom bloggers. Don't forget to comment and enter to win the free DNA test from 23andMe!

The Day I Was Bor-Ing

We lie down on the big bed, snuggled together, and Tori says, "Tell me the story about the day I was bor-ing."

I say, "You mean the day you were born?"

And she nods, her pacifier handle flapping a bit. I think, again, how it's time to move on from pacifiers, but I once again leave it alone.

I take a deep breath and start the story.

"Once upon a time," I say. "Mommy and Daddy really, really, really wanted a little baby girl. But they tried and they tried and they finally decided that they needed some help. So they went to see a doctor, and the doctor worked some magic, and then, when Tori was a tiny, itsy bitsy thing -- so small that you couldn't even see her -- they put you in Mommy's belly."

I then place my hand under her shirt.

"Inside Mommy's belly you grew and grew." Here I make my hand into a fist under her shirt until it mimics a pregnant belly.  " And one day, about eight months later, you were ready to be born so we went to the hospital and the doctor took you out of Mommy's belly!"

She pauses, and mumbles around the binky, "And then they gave me to Daddy?"

I say, "Yes, then they gave you to Daddy and he said, 'Oh my goodness! This is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen!' And then your Godmother Sarah took a picture and cried about how beautiful you were."

I take a deep breath, thinking once again, about everything I'm leaving out. The boys. The nightmarish years of infertility. The desperate drive to the hospital while I bled through my clothes and two towels the day she was born. The numb terror I felt as the hospital gurney was rushed down the hall to the surgical suite for my emergency c-section. The long, dark, horrid eight hours that passed before she was finally handed to me for the first time.

"Finally," I say. "Finally, they brought you to Mommy. And your Mommy was so happy she could hardly breathe. She held you, and she kissed you, and she said, 'Oh my! She's so beautiful!"

Then I smile, and Tori starts to smile too. "Then!" I say. "I kissed your fingers!" (I kiss her fingers). "I kissed your toes!" (I kiss her toes). "Then I kissed your belly! And your forehead! And your chin! And your elbows! And your knees!"

As I madly kiss her everywhere, she shrieks with laughter. When we're done, she snuggles closer. And I think to myself, I wouldn't have the story be any other way.