Team Mates

I have a friend who desperately wants to learn Ebay. As it turns out, she's a published magazine writer. We've been spending Wednesdays helping each other fine tune our crafts while our kids run wild in each other's backyards. I'd like to say that I've had this kind of focused support from the men in my life, but it seems to be a woman trait: this getting down to business while wiping butts, feeding cats and making sure we don't forget to send in the taxes. I'm not gay, but if I were, I would be a lot richer thanks to the power of female organization.

A big internet hug out to Cecelia who about to go into labor any day now. Her belly has dropped more than the stock market and she is in that fun stage of "Am I having labor pains and is that my water breaking" or "Are they just Braxton hicks and I'm peeing on myself?" Let's all wish her lots of luck. Labor isn't easy, but it's also do-able with the right attitude. And she better know I'm here for her when she needs a break. (That 'ol women partnership again.)

Speaking of breaks, thanks to all my girlfriends who took turns sleeping over while Rex was in Indianapolis. There was Anna Banana, a neonatal nurse who regalled me with stories of 1 pound bambinos and reminded me how lucky I was to have these two healthy munchkins. There was Topanga T who left her pit bull at home to come to my place, paint my hallway, rearrange my furniture and clean my floors. And of course, there was Cecelia, who I refrained from repeating Anna Banana's horror stories. Then again, Cecelia is about as big as a watermelon now, so there's little chance her swollen belly is carrying a one pounder!

Today I'm taking my mom for a walk and then lunch for mothers' day. I was going to do it tomorrow and then I realized I'm a mom, too, so I'm being selfish and taking myself, and my computer, out to breakfast tomorrow while Rex is on rugrat patrol. I've got to rethink how I'm writing these queries and get down to brass tax. It's hard to rearrange my thought process, but if my three year old can be taught that throwing clothes down the stairs is very counter productive, I suppose I can learn something new, too. (It's so hard, though, and I have this creeping feeling that it would be easier to pound my hands and feet on the floor, prostrate and scream "Nooooo! I can't do it! I can't I can't I caaaaaaaaan't!"

* Pictured: Pipsqueak at 22 months. Like how her dress matches my blog background? That was planned - I'm just that organized.