I took Allie to tumbling class tonight. It's just her fourth half-hour class, but she already is doing better than the first night (which is when I last took her), especially at things like the stretching exercises they do at the start. I can't help laughing at her, though. She still waves at me, or whoever is her attending parent, about every third minute, and if I happen to not see her, she calls me to notice and wave back.

She's gotten better at waiting her turn without asking every other minute when it's going to be her turn. That skill should stand her in good stead when she gets to school. I think her favorite part is the trampoline--well, sorry, little girl. We ain't getting one for home. Too dangerous at almost any age. Your mom has seen too many TV news programs about nasty injuries.

On another subject, a huge congratulations to Dwayne and Raquel, who are having a baby girl. I still don't know when, though, because Dwayne has never written me back with an answer to my due date question. I am thrilled for them. Babies rock (no puns, please). And now I must be off to get mine into her crib. She's sleeping peacefully on the couch (don't nag me by e-mail, she can't even begin to roll off yet). Pleasant dreams to you all.

I took Julia to the doctor for her two-month checkup today on what is her two-month birthday. She's tall! Who'd a thunk it. She's in the 90th percentile of babies her age for height but only the 50th percentile for weight. Julia now weighs 10 lbs., 9 oz. Hard to believe some babies weigh that much at birth (like my father-in-law, for instance).

Julia also had to get three shots. I guess that's better than Allie, who had to get four shots at this age. They've come up with some new and improved vaccine that combines something or other, so now "just" three shots. I remember when Allie got these, I spent at least a few minutes going over the vaccine information sheets, checking what the side effects could be and informing myself on what she had gotten.

Today, I don't even know what Julia got (I was changing a poopy diaper while the nurse was telling me) and I'm not planning on reading the sheets unless she's acting weird. Yet another of the "disadvantages" of being a second baby. At least she gets the advantage of parents who are a lot calmer about anything odd she does.

As long as Julia doesn't get sick, she doesn't have to go back to the doctor until she's four months old now (when she'll get three more shots). Kids these days get 21 shots before the age of two, believe it or not.

Allie did go back to the doctor before she turned four months old--she was in daycare for a grand total of two weeks before she got sick for the first time. Julia should be better off that way--our current daycare just has Allie and our provider's own 7-month-old son. Julia gets to start going there next week Wednesday, my first day back at work. Not looking forward to it, needless to say.

Today is Monday and the first day in 10 that I haven't been with Allie for a majority of the day. Last week our daycare provider was on vacation, so I had both girls at home alone with me for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. It's too bad, because the days went just fine, but I don't think I'm cut out to be a stay-at-home mom.

I wanted to be able to read something for 10 minutes or 30 minutes or spend half an hour on the computer and I couldn't do that, at least not without having Allie watch way too much TV. I think things will be different when Allie and Julia can play together, but right now, Mommy is Allie's primary playmate at home. Allie's a sweetie, but she can be a little tiring when it's nine hours at a crack.

My sister Claudette is off on her honeymoon this week (one week after the wedding week) in San Francisco, which is where Greg and I also went on our honeymoon seven years ago. It's a beautiful city and I'm sure she and Mike will have a wonderful time.

Greg and I also visited the Napa Valley and the Winchester House in San Jose (I believe) when we were there. The Winchester House is the house that they kept building on for 20 years or so because the owner believed that would keep the ghosts of those killed with Winchester guns from haunting her. It was cool--you see things like that on shows like "Ripley's Believe It or Not" and it was fascinating to see it in person.

My mom called this morning and said that Claudette and Mike are visiting Alcatraz today. That's another place you see on TV and then to see it in person--- Here's wishing a steady ferry ride for the honeymooners--the bay at San Francisco can get really choppy.

And if those two are anything like Greg and I--by the time they leave on Saturday, they'll be heartily sick of sourdough bread. Give me a good baguette anytime!

I had a follow-up appointment at the eye doctor today and my eyes are going to be OK. I haven't worn my contacts for a week and a half, except for 12 hours on the day of the wedding, and that helped a lot. I guess my blood vessels are looking a lot more normal, and I've got a new prescription for contacts that's just a little different than 2 years ago. Thank god. I repeat, thank god. I am, however, a reformed contact lens length-of-time wearer. One week wear schedule, OK. Two day wear schedule, OK. I don't care how much I spend on contacts, I'm following the wear schedule.

I told the optometrist that I blogged about how everyone should follow their contact lens wear schedule and she was very pleased. She said she needs to get online herself and post something about the dangers of overlong wearing of lenses, and asked me what I could have been told to keep me from wearing my lenses so long. Hmm--maybe that I could seriously damage my eyes? Golly--that would have been enough for me. I, and she, put some blame on the manufacturers of the new multi-purpose solutions. You don't even have to rub contact lenses these days if you change your lenses often enough, but she says no one ever reads the fine print on the boxes and so people go ages with each lens and just throw them in the case at night.

Well I, for one, am reformed.

My husband was right with his news message about weddings meaning pain, but his list was short compared to the actual injuries. Let's see----

The bride had big marks on her feet the day after the wedding from her strappy sandals.

The maid of honor woke up the day after the wedding with a horribly stiff neck.

The wife of one of the ushers got stung by a yellow jacket when the party bus that the wedding party was on stopped at a site for pictures.

The best man injured his back when the bride sat on his knee for the garter ceremony, to the point that he can't feel his legs (he was going to see a doctor yesterday).

The groom woke up with a stiff neck the day after the ceremony.

The youngest, cutest flower girl (guess who) has nasty sores on her feet from her cute ivory shoes, which she kept on the whole time she boogied (she was up until 11:30, three hours past her bedtime).

Another bridesmaid hobbled around the day after the ceremony from wearing new dress shoes all the previous day.

The wife of another usher fell twice on the dance floor (yes, drink had something to do with it).

Despite this list, the wedding really was fun. Not as fun as mine and Greg's, of course, but fun. Congratulations, Claudette and Mike. By the time we all recover, it'll be time to celebrate your first anniversary.

If you wear contact lenses, please read this. If you don't, feel free to check back another day.

I went to the eye doctor yesterday for the first time in two years. I am pretty diligent about things like going to the dentist every six months, getting a pap smear every year, and getting my eyes checked every two years.

The optometrist commented that my eyes looked kind of red and I told her I had a newborn and that I didn't get a nap yesterday. She checked my right (dominant) eye and my prescription had changed slightly, no big deal. Then she checked my left eye and there's a big change. My astigmatism is much worse, my prescription has changed at least four levels, and she couldn't get me to be able to see 20/20. She said the blood vessels are enflamed and that it's affecting my cornea.

The reason--I've worn my left contact lens beyond the recommended wear schedule. Yep, that's probably the only reason that I may have caused permanent damage to my eye. At the very least, I'm going to have to change lens manufacturers, because my old lens manufacturer doesn't make lenses in as high a prescription as I'm now going to need.

When I originally started wearing toric contact lenses (those made for people with astigmatism) ten years ago, I cleaned my lenses with this fizzy process every day and religiously cleaned them for enzymes every week. I could wear my lenses for three months before changing them. Then suddenly the manufacturer changed the box, and my three-month lenses became one-month lenses. As I told the eye doctor the last time I was examined, I didn't believe anything about the lenses had changed besides the manufacturer wanting you to buy lenses more often, so I continued to wear each lens for three months.

The eye doctor two years ago never told me there might be a problem with that (he's no longer with the office, by the way). Times changed with cleaning solutions and processes and the enzyme tablets are really outrageously expensive, so when they came out with multi-purpose solutions that say you don't have to enzyme anymore, I jumped on board. The newest solutions even say you don't have to rub your lenses when cleaning them anymore (I still rub them to clean them anyway). The problem is that I stopped doing enzyme treatments and continued wearing my lenses beyond the wear schedule.

If you wear your contact lenses beyond the recommended wear schedule (and I bet all of you lens-wearers reading this do), please check with your eye doctor to make sure that's OK. They can give you some guidance. Sure, you might end up spending more on lenses, but you could avoid serious eye damage.

As for me, I need to stop wearing my lenses immediately and wear my glasses, at least for a week. The doctor said I can wear my contacts for the wedding on Saturday, so I'll probably wear them for a few hours that day. I have to go back for another appointment and I'll find out more about what damage I've really done.

This concludes today's cautionary tale. You only have two eyes, people. Take care of yourself.

Ohesotte nani? What is the meaning of my bellybutton?

That's Allie's favorite phrase from Daddy's new Japanese phrase book. She picked the book up because it has little sketches of funny men in it and she asked me to read her what it said. Greg was laughing at me because I'd read something that wouldn't make sense to a literal 3-year-old mind and then try to explain to her what it meant. Most of the time I'd just say, oh, that's a silly one. The above phrase is from the Zen section. It's funny, but it doesn't make too much sense to a literal 38-year-old mind either.

Allie is going to be gorgeous this weekend at my sister's wedding. She has an ivory satin dress with an organza overlay and a big satin sash. It has two satin roses at the raised waistline and a satisfactorily-swishy skirt (I say that because we put it on Allie briefly this weekend and she swung the skirt around and around). I remember doing that with dress skirts when I was her age and even older. She has ivory dress shoes and she'll wear ivory hose (as soon as we find some that fit). Thank you, Nana, for all your work on this outfit. Allie is going to beat the pants off the other flower girl in the cute department (sorry to Amanda).

No, I'm not dead, nor is Greg. We've both been out of town. I got home first and haven't had time to blog what with being a single mom until he got home today. No offense to single parents--god knows I have all the respect in the world for them, but sometimes being a single parent must suck. Not having another adult to pass the crying kid off to--that would be really hard on any kind of regular basis. Lucky for me, I just had two nights of it.

Julia has decided that her fussy period of the day is going to be in the evening, between 6 and 8:30 or so (if we're lucky, and it doesn't start at 3). This is a real shame, because that's when Daddy primarily sees her and he's beginning to think she's a demon. Honestly, she has the potential to be a sweet little girl. She's smiling now and she really looks at you, which is cool. She just needs to realize that sweet girl potential, preferably before her parents go nuts.

Lots of things have been happening--the bachelorette party (details of which will remain verbal only, sparing my mother who I know reads my blog), Allie's first tumbling class (she did great, except that she kept asking me when it was going to be her turn), Allie's first visit to the dentist (she did fine, but she needs to stop sucking her thumb--big surprise). I'm too tired to write details on any of this right now, however. You'll all have to wait to be enlightened (I know you're all holding your breath right now).

I decided to tidy up our mudroom, which contains a washer, a dryer, a hamper, a bench which was so full of stuff that there was no way anyone could ever sit down to put shoes on, and a garbage can. I also emptied out the cabinets over the washer and dryer and rearranged everything or moved it to where it really should go in the house, etc. As an example, why were two beanie baby lions that Allie got when she opened her bank account three years ago in these cabinets? God only knows.

I found out that Greg currently has seven pairs of gloves just in this cabinet in the house. His total glove count doesn't include the three closets in the house where he has outerwear, other possible glove locations. I had five pairs of gloves/mittens, and Allie had three (but I know she's got at least two other pairs in her room). In my defense, I got three pairs of black gloves for Christmas a few years ago, but we're still poster children for conspicuous consumption. No, on second though, not poster children, because I don't think we're atypical. Most people probably have five to seven pairs of gloves.

And don't even get me started on coats. I didn't dive into the coat closet in that room yet, but I know for a fact that I own at least 12 coats, probably closer to 15. Greg recently brought home two new coats, so I know he has at least 15 and possibly more. Isn't that insane? I pass by our local dry cleaner every fall, who advertises the "Coats for Kids" charity drive, and I think we really need to do something. In fact, we have donated coats in the past to St. Vincent de Paul's. But I think it's time to get serious. And you?

Sermonizing over for the day. Thank you very much.

My sister is getting married on September 20th and I'm standing up. I met with a seamstress (there's an old-fashioned word for you) yesterday to get my bridesmaid's dress tailored. Maybe I should call her a tailor? Doesn't seem right for a woman, and I'm as big a feminist as some and a bigger feminist than most.

Fortunately for me, she knows her way around a bridesmaid's dress. I took Industrial Arts in middle school instead of Home Ec and I can barely manage to sew buttons on, myself. Actually, I can sew buttons on, but they usually don't stay on very long. Greg is better at it than I am, which he would be happy to tell you when he's in the mood to send a minor knock at his wife.

My bride-to-be sister is having a bachelorette party this Saturday, which I am planning to attend. Does this mean I need to visit an adult bookstore for an appropriate gift? Believe it or not, somewhere we have a gift certificate to Selective Video, our local "dirty-goods" shop. It's my husband's; you'll have to ask him why we have it. I don't mind so much visiting an adult bookstore, it's just the embarassment of buying something--you want to tell the clerk that you're buying the 10-inch dildo as a gift for a friend, really, and you're not just saying that because you're embarassed.

Ask me sometime about the time I visited an adult bookstore with my mother-in-law. God's truth.

Pig and I went to the vet yesterday. She hates going to the vet (big surprise) so I had gotten the cat carrier out a few days ago, thinking maybe she would forget about it if it sat around like furniture for a little bit. Yeah, right. I guess when it came time for me to put her in it, I was acting a little too casually like I wasn't even thinking of taking her to the vet, because she immediately sequestered herself beneath our bed, which is about the only place in the house that you can't just reach and grab her from under.

Pig is normally a very docile pet, but we spent a good five minutes with me poking her and her hissing and even growling from under the bed without any success on my part. I finally got her to come out by poking her with the ironing board (I'm sure you can appreciate the visual here) and off we went to the vet, which thank god is very nearby (everything is nearby is this town).

She was evaluated and got her feline leukemia shot in about 7 minutes. I think it took me longer to get her and Julia inside the building in their various carriers than the actual exam. Pig is in fine health for a 10 year old kitty, and now we shouldn't have to go back for a whole 'nother year. Thank god.

Stand by--next week Allie is going to the dentist for her first-ever visit. I have a feeling my narrative on it could be similar.