His Safe Place

In case you hadn't heard, we got a hurricane on the east coast today. It was a non-event in the Boston area, though you wouldn't have guessed that listening to the news (I'll save my rant about how annoying it is that New Englanders have lost their famous resilience). So we were stuck inside all day with a stir-crazy H, which made me a little, well, crazy.

When we saw what a non-event it was, we decided to venture out after H's nap. So we went where any good American goes when the weather outside is frightful but the prospect of their own four walls is even scarier: the mall. And we ate? At the Rainforest Cafe. Shudder.

H seemed to enjoy the spectacle of the place, but he was really tough to settle down tonight. At one point when he cried out from his crib, I asked him if he was scared of the elephants that "came alive" from time to time at the restaurant. He said yes (in his own way, which is more like "da"), and when I sat down with him in his rocker and told him it was all pretend and he was safe with mama and daddy in the next room, he closed his eyes and fell asleep quickly.

How lucky he was to feel the cozy security of his mother's arms as he drifted off to sleep.
How lucky I was to be those arms.

To become a mother is to have these moments -- all the time -- where you feel like you finally understand the meaning of life.

Who Invited Her?

Okay, so to update you, I was so spectacularly not pregnant this cycle that I got my period on the first day of our vacation to Maine last week.

And in case you're yearning for details, while last month's was super brief and easy, like Aunt Flo just decided to stop over for tea and didn't want to impose, this time she was obviously in the mood to put her feet up on my coffee table and have a good long chat. It was like old school awful -- I even had cramps, and if I could have asked for a hall pass to go lie down in the nurse's office with a hot water bottle, I would have. All in all, I was a mess.

When you only go to the beach once a year, this is all really. Freaking. Annoying.

So basically? I feel sort of nostalgic for the days when AF only showed up under the influence of synthetic hormones. Especially since I'm not getting the feeling that having a regular cycle is going to produce the intended result.