Anxiety

Good Joo has spent much of the last month being very anxious about numerous things. This isn't really anything new, but it seems to have hit GJ hard recently. Perhaps it's A getting beaten up by neighborhood kids, or A getting into the one supposedly good public school after GJ and hubby just forked over $6000 for private school. Maybe it's the drama about where to put the new baby (a girl by the by), or how plans NEVER seem to work out. Perhaps it's GJ's hubby randomly questioning "so are we gonna do it" during a serious conversation about that fact that GJ ate an ENTIRE box of Lucky Charms in 24 hours. Oh and 5 oatmeal cream pies. And a Coke. Maybe it's the fact that GJ HATES her newly reupholstered Pottery Barn chair. Hates it. Or perhaps it's the fact that GJ's basement looks like something out of Haiti. The promise that the new baby is going to ruin our current EVERYONE is sleeping through the night in their own room excitement. That GJ will have two kids in diapers. So there.

INVINCIBLE or Something Like It

Bad Joo is, as the Italians say, fragile. So fragile, that motherhood is causing her weenie little wrists to bow oot like a kid with a bad case of rickets, if rickets affected only the left wrist; and passers-by regularly offer to accompany her home to the adult foster center.

Because of this pathetic weakness, Bad Joo suffered broken wrists and all manner of other joint injuries in her youth, much to the chagrin of Good Joo. You see, Good Joo always wanted a broken arm. And a retainer. Sure, the retainer was easy enough. Watermelon Jolly Rancher? Check. Paper clip? Check. One instant retainer. The broken arm, however, was a whole other animal. And it was a much coveted animal.

Perhaps it was the golden draw of the arm sling, but for years Good Joo tried to break her arm by slamming it in car doors, bedroom doors, refrigerator doors, hitting it with a hammer, and asking people and heavy draft animals to jump upon it. This Joo is not making this shit up, except maybe the part aboot the beasts of burden. And the amazing thing is that IT NEVER WORKED. She never broke a mother fuceing thing.

And so, this Joo reminds that Joo that despite the fact that this pregnancy is wearing her like a bad suit, she will get through it. She's strong like that. INVINCIBLE EVEN. Or something like it.

Good God

Can you stand it? Now if only you could smell it. And yes...that is chocolate all over her face. When your throat looks like that you get to eat whatever you want. Gross.

Love and Strength to Good Joo

In the house now shy of at least one pair of T&A, Good Joo is laboring under the weight of a growing C/D, whilst hoisting B aboot and caring for a recovering A. Since the vomiting of scabs by a five year old would in and of itself be cause for extra good thoughts to be sent GJ's way, Bad Joo is doubly proud of Good Joo as she is enduring all of this sans husband. Mr. Good Joo has chosen this time to go on a brotherly adventure that will likely involve beer and the photography thereof. Those of you friendly with him on Facebook know of what I speak.

So, Good Joo, this Joo sends you much love and reminds you that you are a fabulous mother doing a fabulous job.

This Sucks Balls

Bad Joo is back at work. And Bad Joo hates this. M, however, is perfectly content. M is perfectly content, because M is being sat upon by his beloved Gramma (The Incision) and his dear Aunt-Kelly-Nanny. And, this Joo's wonderful employer is allowing her to work only from noon until 6, with the rest of her work time being completed in flex time. In short, this Joo is VERY LUCKY.

Still, those six hours away from M are the most excruciating hours of this Joo's life. This Joo has even inquired after the possibility of a neurological epidural in order to lessen the pain of separation. To date, the only thing that has helped Bad Joo ease into this transition is the knowledge that the sticky minutes she spends furtively pumping breast milk in the corner of the conference room like some kind of bad boob junkie will result in a healthier baby M. And those fifteen sticky minutes (why didn't anyone tell this Joo that breastmilk was hot-sticky-sweet-from-its-head-to-its-feet-yeah) allow Bad Joo to think about baby M and at least pretend she's connecting with him. La SNEEF.

Bad Joo doesn't know how the rest of you working moms do it. Do tell! What are your tricks?

Cinq

Oh A. You are 5 now and mostly adorable when you are not pouting, whining, crying, suffocating Gonny or hurting your sister. You are thoughtful and kind and such a good friend. GJ loves that you cried during the Haiti telethon and that any type of animal rescue commercial puts you over the edge. GJ can't even wait until we watch Whale Wars together. Then your dad will really be into us. You were so very brave for your surgery and even though your breath smells like there is a dying skunk in your throat, GJ loves you all the same. Happy Birthday to GJ's first born.