It's "Thank Your First Commenter Day"! Pass the wine!

Many thanks to Neil for coming up with this way of spreading a little thanksgiving before the actual holiday. His challenge? Find the first person who ever commented on your blog and thank them.

My very first commenter to that post I wrote back in October of 2006 is the barely known blogger (heh) who goes by Mom 101. In response to a post in which I recounted how a drunk boy told me I was "practical", she wrote:

Okay that is like the single worst thing I think any guy could ever say to a drunk woman in the bar. I mean, "wanna do it in my trailer?" would probably be better than that!

For what it's worth, practical is not the first thing I think of when I think of you. I think of you in that bleeding heart halloween costume in 92 (eek) and how I thought to myself, now THERE'S someone I could be friends with!

Thank you for this Liz.

I'd also like to send a big thank you to the first person I don't know outside of blogland who commented on my site: Daisy from Compost Happens who wrote this on my second post titled "Homeschooling Hiccups". She wrote:

The best way to raise a reader is to read. Keep reading to her, showing her that books are wonderful and fun and contain stories that rock. When she's developmentally ready, she'll go for the phonics lessons.

Two posts in, and I was already worrying about my abilities to homeschool. Sounds about right. And, heck, guess what! She was spot on with her advice.

To everyone who has ever visited this blog, who has taken the time to comment, or email, or send me a Tweet, thank you, thank you, thank you. You warm my heart.

--------

Know what else warms my heart? New England Mamas is back! Come and check us out! The digs look the same but we put out some tasty new treats for you all. Enjoy!

Fashion mamas? I'm on my knees

I don't spend a lot of money on clothes. 99% of what I own comes from Old Navy, Target, Kohls and Payless. I don't think I'm "cheap", I just have a hard time spending loads of cash on any single item of clothing, my wedding dress included.

There is a good reason for this. I am a klutz. I spill, stain, rip and stretch everything I own.

I was reminded of this, painfully, last night.

A year ago, I went beyond my comfort zone and splurged big time on a pair of worth-every-freakin'-penny jeans to wear to a "Black-Tie-and-Denim" fundraiser.

I've worn these jeans maybe a half-dozen times since, reserving them for special nights out instead of days sitting on the floor playing Legos.

And, oh, how I love these pants. These are the kind of jeans that make you understand why people pay so much for good denim. They shave off 10 pounds instantly, never pinch around the waist and are so soft, I'm surprised I haven't worn a hole in the thighs from rubbing my hands up and down them.

But, minutes after stepping out of the car last night for date night with my husband, I did this:

I didn't cry. I know they are jeans, not my wedding ring or even anything sentimental. But, I did wimper. A bit. And, then I went to the bar and drank a lot.

My husband, trying to cheer me up, announced I should put a big patch on the rip and "own it"! I am thinking maybe red embroidery thread to close it up. If I were 20 years younger, I'd rip more holes in them, bleach a few patches and call it a day, but I'm not 22 anymore.

So, c'mon fashionistas, help this poor mama salvage her favorite jeans. Otherwise, I'll be afraid to ever spend over $25 on a pair of jeans again.

Shook

Shook is how I feel when I hear that someone who radiates life is struck down in the prime of her life.

I'm too shook to really write much except to say that she's been on my mind since I heard the terrible news.

She has such a long road ahead but so much to live for, especially three beautiful children.

Fight hard, Anissa.

You can learn what happened and read updates here.

And, if you can help her family get through this, please click on the link in my sidebar.

Worry

I've sworn off of Twitter and Facebook for the week, which means that all of the little chatter in my head has just been bouncing off itself instead of finding a home in 14-point type (confession: I have no idea what size type is used on either website).

It's been a stressful week. Fairly Odd Father has had some heavy things happen at work, and the kids have been taunting me with "I'm getting sicker!" vs. "I'm getting better!" on alternate days, but never on the same days.

On Wednesday, I brought Jilly to the doctor to check out her never-ending cough because the day before she had gone pale and tired, falling asleep on the couch at 10am. We had also heard of a friend's son who was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia after having H1N1, so this information was rattling around in my brain as I watched her nap.

The doctor listened to her lungs and proclaimed it was not pneumonia. Just asthmatic wheezing probably triggered by a virus. Well, hot damn! That's like being told your flight will be landing on time after all, but you'll be going to an airport 1,000 miles from your final destination.

Then, the doctor looked at Belly, slumped in the chair and coughing. He listened to her lungs and said she was making "bronchial sounds", and I should make sure they don't get much worse. Awesome. So, last night, guess who was up half the night listening to her firstborn cough her head off, thinking "is this worse?". I'd bring her in to the doctor's today to have him check her lungs but. . .

D woke me in the middle of the night to tell me he had thrown up all over his bed. And, he wasn't kidding. I even have to wash his dozens of stuffed animals. His lungs sounded fine on Wednesday, but how about giving him a little intestinal distress for kicks?

The irony of all of this is that the doctor was able to vaccinate the three of them against H1N1 while we were in the office on Wednesday. Good thing that will keep them healthy this winter.

It's good to have foraging friends

I don't normally eat things I find growing outside.

Those black berries? Will kill you.

See these mushrooms? Don't even touch!

But, on a recent hike with three other families, I dined al fresco on things we found outside. Things I never, ever would have put in my mouth before.

And it was good.

First we found Hickory Nuts. These round green leathery things just fall out of a (stop me if you know this) Hickory Tree (the Shagbark Hickory in our neck of the woods). The cover pulls away and there is a hard tan nut inside.

Hard tan nut

You just crush the nut with a rock (or, um, your foot) and eat the nut meat inside. We were all like little rabid squirrels trying to get the edible stuff out of the crushed shells.

Then, one of the nature-smart moms looked across the field, pointed and told us to "go!". So, we went.

Everyone gathered around the bush with the silvery green leaves.

faces swirled on purpose; my friends don't really look like this

This bush had Buffaloberries all over it. They were red with little yellow dots on them, like speckled jelly beans. They were sour and yummy and plentiful. We ate them like hungry bears.

aren't they gorgeous?

I may not be able to live in the wild for a week, but I did appreciate learning a few new things. Although, I don't care who I'm with: I'm never eating a mushroom we find in the woods.

Finally, of all the cool things we learned, my favorite is this:

My little boy just loves big, furry caterpillars.

So far, so good

D says "C'mon, we're going to be late!"

This week, my five-year-old, "never-spent-a-day-in-daycare/preschool" son started school.

And it was good.

He hasn't yet balked at rushing out of the house a few minutes before nine (all you school veterans can smirk at me here), and there are no tears at drop off.

And other than quite literally throwing his coat at a teacher when he needed help putting it on, he seems to have behaved himself in the classroom and on the playground.

I think we made the right decision.

A cowgirl, a witch and a pirate walk into a bar. . .

NO, I didn't bring the kids into a bar. . .although I was mighty pleased that a couple of neighbors had "adult beverages" for us Trick-or-Treating chaperones. I think perhaps this should be a tradition: offer the adults a little treat of their own while you are handing out the Smarties and Butterfingers.

My little cowgirl, witch and pirate had a mighty fine time too.

Although watch out for that cowgirl---someone jumped out of a bush to scare her, and she drew her pistol at them.