Don’t have much time. Work has flowed into my office and now I’m treading water like a m—–f–ker. It’s good. I like knowing there’s plenty to keep me busy and that money will flow my way soon, too.

I have a big ol’ Asher post brewing in my mind and no time to write it down. Must make it a priority v. soon, or I’ll forget what he was like at this stage. I’m trying valiantly to document my children’s childhood, both for their sakes and for mine. I want proof that I did all this. Otherwise it will disappear in a fog of sleep dep.

Our summer is progressing nicely. We have a huge list of fun things to do and we’re slowly making our way through it. Lucas seems busy and entertained. I’ve only turned on the TV one time on a weekday this whole summer!

I had that confrontation with my friend last week finally. I think it’s all gonna be OK. We talked for a long time. Went through the whole history of the issue, explored how each part made each of us feel. It was exhausting, but good, work. I haven’t had to work that hard to communicate in a friendship in a long time. I guess that’s cuz most of my good friends have now known me since I was practically a baby. I’m hopeful that it is survivable now. Before last week, I wasn’t sure that we’d make it through our first problem.

How come I can look in a mirror one day and think, “Cool. I look hot, all things considered,” then the next day I look in the mirror and hate myself for having gained weight? Why is it that my self-perceptions change, sometimes from one moment to the next? Why is it possible to enjoy my meals with gusto, happily indulge in dessert, and then wake at 2 a.m. wracked with guilt about those uncessary calories? It’s constant justification and then self-flagellation in my head. I tell myself that I don’t have to kill myself to loose the 13 pounds I want to lose: It’s been a big, eventful, baby-producing year for me, after all. Then I tell myself that I am not a worthy human being if I don’t discipline myself to eat less, exercise constantly, and look skinny, like a 20-something who hasn’t had kids. I should be back to my size 6 that I worked so hard to fit into after Lucas was about 2.

Asher’s First Comic Strip

Today may be the most successful potty day Asher’s ever had. Since 2 a.m. this morning he has had only one wet diaper. All the other times he’s peed in the potty. I think since around 9 p.m. last night, there have been only two wet diapers.

Lucas is doing well with “pee-free nights.” Since we started working on having him stay dry at night (and stopped using pull-ups) sometime in May, he’s had about 32 pee-free nights. We recently had a run of like 5 to 7 nights in a row with no wetting. He gets stickers for staying dry, and when he collects a predetermined number of stickers, he gets a new toy. He likes being successful and working toward a goal that gets him stuff.

It’s all about pee in this house these days.

That’s what I am today. Super grumpy, in fact. Lucas realized it was a good day to make himself scarce and actually asked if he could go to the babysitters’. Yes, wise son, you may. The midget and I are lying in bed. He’s pissed at me because I’m no fun today.

Nothing in the world makes me long to be childless more than being sick. So hard to give a damn about my kids’ needs when I feel like hell. I want my mommy.

Contraband pics, thanks to Annika’s mom. Yes, his goggles are on upside down.

A few days ago I didn’t have much work except for a long-term project and my regular magazine gig. I started beating the bushes. Now I have offers coming out my ears. The rest of this month looks to be very busy. I’m hoping I can manage it all with Asher by my side. Darn baby thinks he should get all of my attention!

So sorry I didn’t get in touch yesterday! Happy belated birthday.

What? You’re like 29 now right? Not sure, Flonk, but I think I am now the age you were when we first met. My mistake. Please forgive me. You aren’t old after all!

Hope you guys are doing well and making progress on Project Return to Good Places.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Yep, baby Asher has pinkeye. Lucas managed to infect both his grandmother and his brother. Asher’s medicine is an ointment that has to be squirted into his eyes four times a day. The tip of the ointment tube is totally long and pointy and Ian and I are terrified that we’re going to stab the baby in the eye trying to deliver the medicine. I wish the doctor had prescribed eye drops like Lucas had! Asher is rubbing his eyes a lot and they’re goopy.

He also seems to have picked up his first cold. But if so, it’s fairly mild. He has a slightly snotty nose and a hoarse little cough, but otherwise seems unperturbed. He’s still got a mellow demeanor, which is a big blessing.