Did you know that you can seriously give yourself carpal tunnel/tendonitis symptoms by holding a baby for long lengths of time in awkward positions? It's true. I've been holding Julia for inordinate periods of time lately (she's been much fussier than the last few weeks) and my wrists both hurt. Add in my sore neck from keeping her head on my shoulder (that's the position she seems to like best) and I'm a basket case. I mentioned that there should be a parent body conditioning course a few weeks ago and now I'm thinking of designing one. Pregnant parents could practice with those lifelike dolls or sacks of flour or something. Dwayne and Raquel, are you listening?

In her blog, Donna talked a few days ago about (in my opinion, at least) rude questions people ask when they find out you're single and 35. Having been single myself until age 31, I feel somewhat empathetic. Everyone should understand that it's not a bad thing to be single, for god's sake. Seeing some marriages out there should convince people of that. A friend of mine attended a wedding this weekend. At the reception, the bridal couple were too busy arguing to come out to the dance floor for their first dance. And the guests were talking about how both new spouses have a history of cheating on one another. Gosh, what a match made in heaven.

Once you're married, though---daytime TV is for the birds, but I did catch something when flipping through the channels from Dr. Phil. I don't even know Dr. Phil, but I've heard a little about him in the newspaper. (It has definitely paid off for him to be friends with Oprah.) Dr. Phil says that you can't just speculate about getting divorced or run to the courthouse and file at the drop of a hat. He says you have to earn a divorce. Earn it by trying everything in your power to save your marriage first--including a revolutionary thing called "talking to your spouse," counseling, retreats, whatever. I think Dr. Phil is on the right track with this one. (Didn't my husband just say this same thing a few days ago with his blog on the Episcopal gay bishop?)

Doesn't this mean we're meant for each other?

Postscript--I had to stop typing and run upstairs because Julia woke crying. As I warmed her bottle, I held her on my shoulder. And wouldn't you know--she hit me right in the eye with one of her little fists. Parent pain, indeed.