The Interwebs have been aflutter over Jon and Kate Gosselin. Who did what to whom? How much of a role did the cameras play in the disintegration of their relationship? Did their greed compromise their judgment as parents and as life partners? Who cheated on whom? It’s easy to point fingers, especially since they’ve chosen to live their lives so publicly.

I have no great sympathy for their claims that the media should back off, respecting their privacy as a family. When you open your life as they have (and as I have on my blog), you have to take the good with the bad. There will be those that love you no matter what. There will be people who will celebrate every stumble and heartbreak you experience. Others will question everything you do. It’s part and parcel of the deal.

In the end, though, what we have is a couple who is ending their relationship in a very public way. Regardless of my opinions about their relationship and parenting choices, I can’t help but watch their faces and see so much that is familiar.

I saw it months ago, the lack of physical contact, the emotional detachment, the harsh words that were only half-joking. They got further and further from each other. Soon, that interview couch could not have been long enough.

Eyes were swollen. Walls were up. The end was near.

continue reading…

Do you know why? I’m moving, and I won’t be ON the internet for three days. I know some of you would have been thinking “I wonder where that weird lame blogger went.” so I wanted to inform you that my [indeed] lame ass will be sweating as I unpack a zillion boxes in our new casa. I HATE moving. I’m going to have to come back and clean our apartment sometime during the week when I hand over the keys to the castle because as I’m packing up our lives I realize that yes, what my husband says is true, I’m pretty much a huge slob. There’s dust bunnies the size of cats floating around here, and I’m glad my daughter is at Grandma’s while I blog pack.

In fact, I’m really pleased with all the help I’ve gotten. Not with the packing oh no, that’s the parental units job and we are peculiar with all our crap, but with child care…the Grandma has taken Paige off our hands several nights so we could pack and clean and get things together without worrying about a box of books toppling over onto our ten month old. Tonight we need to dismantle the crib, and our bed, and whatever else. The pets are freaking out, I’m rambling and well.

That’s it, moving sucks. Tell me moving horror stories so I feel better about my dust bunnies!

As many of you don’t know, we got a house.

By “got a house” I mean we are renting the home of our dreams with hopes to purchase in a year, or two when the economy may, or may not be sucking so much ass. Before I go off on my rant, I’d like to tell you that our new house has a convervatory for growing pot veggies, and citrus trees [which I already ordered] even in the dead of winter! And it’s got a hell of a backyard for the dogs, and it’s got a pond on the outside of the property and it’s got four bedrooms and fireplaces and it’s in the country. Are you drooling? I am.  It’s also within driving distance to a Borders my book store of choice.

But it has a pool, and we have a baby who’s going to start walking any day, and pretty soon swan diving and practicing her breast stroke.  Everyone’s worried…except us. Pools are dangerous but hell so are puddles if you’re a nine month old.  For the record I *DO* plan on taking safety preclusions so my precious little bean doesn’t drown, so why does everyone ask me what I’m going to “do” about the pool. I’m going to swim in it fuckers what do you think? And so will my daughter because she’s basically a little fish. She loves water, especially splashing mommy in the eyes during bath time.

Am I worried about the pool? Well, I wasn’t until everyone started mentioning that she might drown if I don’t install fences and alarms around it.  One person even gave me the following scenario: My daughter wakes up wondering about her favorite toy [which happens to be dangerously close to our pool], it’s early morning and we are all sleeping so we don’t notice her climb out of bed and out to the backyard where she falls in and dies. Talk about morbid huh? I’m all “oh we co-sleep if she even turns over I wake up to ensure she is alive and well…so the chances of that happening are slim to none…” And what IS it with people and the “no shit” advice?

“Oh, you have a pool, are you sure that’s a good thing…she might die”

We have gotten about four phone calls, seventeen emails and forty nine instant messages concerning our chlorinated mecca and it’s annoying me, can you tell?

Hi imperfects! Tracy here (or mommy weirdest, whichever you prefer…) This is my first blog, and I’m pretty sure I should give you a brief synopsis of what I’m “about” before I beg for advice. I’m mom to Paige, who’s seven months old. She hates napping, and garden vegetables. We co-sleep (not because I’m into “attatchment parenting”, but because I simply can’t bear the thought of getting up out of my warm bed at 3am), and she’s got cute dimples. Phil’s my fiannce but I call him my husband because A: it’s easier and B: he will be in two months. He simultaneously drives me insane and makes me want to hug his brains out…we’ve got a Bernese Mountain dog puppy, a strange cat, and we both work from home.

Anyway, here’s the dilemma: Living in New York (and I don’t mean fancy Manhattan, we are talking Staten Island here, land of pizza places and the garbage dump) kind of sucks. It’s expensive, and full of traffic. So we are going to escape…when we first moved into this apartment we were all “oh man it’s so spacious!” but than when had a kid, got a huge dog, and Phil started working from home. His “office” is the second half of our living room. I love him, I swear I do but looking at the back of his head everyday, hearing him open nicorette gum, listening to him CACKLE over some funny “work related thing” is driving me fucking insane. He needs a mancuary. He needs a room with a DOOR…

So, yes like I said in the summer we are renting a house but the decision comes to this my friends, location. His family resides in Staten Island and well, I think they truly believe it’s gods gift to Urbanites. We don’t care what they think…my family lives in New Jersey and being a Jersey girl at heart I’m DOWN with moving to the N.J preferably Morris, Warren, or Sussex county. I want woods in my backyard, I want to hear crickets at night and birds in the morning.

But at heart we really want to take the hell off and move to Asheville North Carolina. It’s our mecca.

The problem: Do we pick up and leave the grandparents missing there only grandchild or do we compromise, move to NJ (which is more expensive, and frankly not as cool) to pacify them so they can come visit? Do I put OUR family first, or think of others? Any thoughts would be great, I’m ready to stop thinking for myself….

(oh and, like how I snuck a picture of Paige in the post? She’s very serious)