Interview

The latest bloggy trend is an interview. I thoroughly enjoyed Mrs. Spit's interview (though her questions were HARD) so I decided I'd go for it. Fortunately she took it fairly easy on me.


1. No woman over 35 should wear a mini skirt, yes or no?
Well, before I hit my 30s, I probably would have said NO WAY. But as I've gotten older and become less concerned about body stuff, I guess I'd say if you've got it, flaunt it. But you better HAVE IT. I do not. So you will not be seeing me in a mini skirt.

2. Grapes or raisins?
Can I have both?
I love fresh green grapes to snack on. But I love raisins in my cereal and in oatmeal cookies. I particularly love those pillsbury place-n-bake cookies.
I used to love the ones from the cafeteria at the hospital but one day one of them came with a side of hairball and thus ended our love affair.
(Yeah. I was gagging in the NICU. It was pretty awful.)


3. What's the deal with Icee's?
Well, you see, Icees rule. They're cold and sweet and yummy. They are superior, in my opinion, to Slush Puppies or Slushees because the ice is ground finer. There is something out there called a Tropical Sno which is finer, even, than an ICEE, but they're seasonal and harder to come by.
And of course, the fact that the Icees at the hospital were FREE, well.... there's no contest.


4. In the Toby Award I gave you a few weeks ago, I suggested that you had real courage. How do you feel about courage now?
Hmm. This was a hard one.
Mrs. Spit wrote, "Albus Dumbledore was quite right, there are many varieties of courage. One type is to get up every morning, knowing that it is going to be hard."
And I suppose if that is, indeed, courage, then I suppose some days I am courageous.

But I must say that with the challenges that come with my daily life, I have so, so many blessings to ease the pain.

To me, Mrs. Spit is far more courageous. She lost her precious Gabriel to the evil syndrome that threatened to take Robbie. And she still faces each day with kindness. She still reads my blog every day. She comments frequently. She emails when I'm at my lowest and truly lifts my spirits. She calls me and makes me laugh when I'm sitting in the hospital considering homicide if ONE MORE PERSON wakes my son.

Me, I feel like I'm muddling through complicated circumstances. But I got my miracles. If I were to wallow in self-pity for very long, it would be a slap in the face of all those who didn't get to bring their babies home.

Yeah, sometimes it sucks. I mean, sometimes it REALLY sucks. Sometimes I do wallow. Why, oh why me. Why won't MY son eat? Why won't MY son grow? What did he do to deserve this?

But truly, I'm so blessed. I get to see Robbie smile every day. I get to hold him and hug him and kiss him and smell his sweet baby smell.

I don't think facing those days makes me courageous. I think it makes me lucky.

That being said, I REALLY appreciated the reward and it came in the midst of a good spell of self-pity, so as usual, Mrs. Spit's timing was impeccable. The well wishes and prayers of not just her, but the people who visited on her behalf were beyond wonderful.

But really, I think I'm just an average gal making my way through less-than-stellar circumstances.

5. Describe your perfect day.

This one has required more thought than it should.
I think there are two versions. One is the true fantasy, which would involve a beach, a masseuse, a hot tub and a good book.

But the other is more mundane, but probably more appreciated:

Robbie sleeps in. Wakes and eats well w/o crying.

He plays on his playmat while I manage to shower and eat something.

We play a while.
He takes a decent nap. I join him.

He eats a good lunch w/o crying.

We have good play time in the afternoon w/o any yelling.

At dinner, David takes Robbie w/o having to be drug from the computer and actually interacts with him instead of just sitting with him on his lap.
I get to cook w/o having to stop 13 times.

As we eat, Robbie stays in his swing next to me w/o needing his pacifier handed to hi 25 times and w/o yelling. I get to eat as I want to w/o rushing through to try to get him up before he combusts.

HE eats a good dinner without crying.

We have fun playtime in the evening.

He goes to bed w/o fussing. I go to sleep quickly w/o laying awake worrying about things I can't control.

Oh yeah, and the milk magically flows from my boobs to the bottles w/o having to be hunched over a machine 6x a day.



Voila! Complete.

That wasn't so bad.

And IHO that, I think I'll open myself up for more.

Anyone out there have questions they'd like answered? Wonder how we do something? Miss some history and are confused? Hit me with your best shot. I'll collect questions for a week and make it my project next weekend to get them all answered.


--Trish