The End of Porter

  There's this Jeff Foxworthy joke, where he and his brother are kids and they're wrestlin' and they break their Daddy's Jack Daniels Elvis decanter. The punchline is, "This is why we can't have nice things!" My mom collects stuff like that, she's got her John Wayne collectors plate and such, so it was a running joke in our house while I was growing up.

So, a few Christmases ago, my mom gives me this statue of Porter Wagoner. He's the guy who made Dolly Parton who she is today, he gave her her big break, and is an amazing singer in his own right. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq1kEph-wvs

It was on Matt's desk, and yesterday I found the destroyed base with one little foot, a little purple boot on it, the microphone hanging by a wire, with Porter's hand still grasping it firmly. The rest of the body is MIA. Moxie strikes again. I don't know how or when, but she managed to completely destroy it.

You can probably guess my reaction.

"This is why we can't have nice things!"

RIP Porter. Again. You guarded my kitchen nicely. Hopefully, I'll find the rest of your remains today and can give you a proper burial.
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You can't catch me...

I just had one of those perfect mommy moments.
She was in her room, playing with Cash
and I heard her sneak into the kitchen.
She grabbed a bag of bread off the counter
and was tearing into it when I popped in there and commanded, "back away from the bread."
So she takes off running.
Instead of her normal steady run,
she's just frantically trying to get away from me, zigging and zagging all over the place,
all the while trying to chew through this plastic bag.
She got over to the couch and she throws the bread bag down
and lands right on top of it, as if it were a land mine,
protecting it from me

But I got it

I'm still bigger than she is



I've been a Mom for about 2 months now, and I've been shat on four times. No one told me to check and make sure that the diaper was properly unfurled around her butt or the poop would come streaming out of it like Don Imus' podcast. Twice. No one told me that when she was having diarrhea, I would take off the old diaper and poop would come flying out of her butt and land all over the changing pad, the table, my stomach and the floor, and certainly no one told me that she could puff her stomach up and make the diaper loose and poop would come spilling out of the top of it.

Most importantly though, no one told me that each time, I'd be standing there covered in poop, and she'd laugh at me, so like her mother in love with toilet humor, and I'd start laughing too.

Where, I wonder, has my temper gone? Why do I not explode at this disgusting little quirk? Good to know parenthood really does change you.


That Kid's Got Moxie.


World, meet Moxie. March 19th, at 11:37PM, my little 9lb9oz girl made her debut. Cadence Moxie Henry has arrived.
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maternity leave...

At my job, I'm the only employee. I work in an office by myself, and I've come to love it that way. If I needed a day off to go explore the Greenbelt, or catch a good SXSW day show, or have an extended lunch break with someone, I had the complete freedom to do so.

Of course, my refusal to set hours meant my boss refused to do so either. So, we've had many a row where we'll come out at 10pm and just expect me to stay working as long as he feels like it. But, I've got a sweet position and I don't push the issues any further than I need to let off a little steam.

So, taking all that into consideration, when I got pregnant, I sat down and talked to my boss. There were four albums to get designed, then I could go on maternity leave for a month, then I could start slowly, basically just doing the sales and promotions.

So, after three months of hell, designer issues, color issues, Mac issues, and personality and taste conflicts, I finally get all four albums done, they get off to the printer and are ready today, exactly one day before my deadline.

I'm officially on maternity leave.

Except, I'm not. My boss called me at least 4 times yesterday with pet projects, things that could not only wait a year, but surely could wait a month. Duplicating a jacket design that he's had since 1975, for his personal wear. Finding some autographed contracts and framing them. Apparently, the man is worried "that I'll get bored just sitting around all day, and if i need something to do...." Today, I get more phone calls, wondering if I can write press releases for albums that have already come out, and can I mail off several packages, and while I'm at it...

No. I can't.

It just cracks me up that he would think that I, she of the feet so swollen I almost cried when I saw my friend Kate's adorable heels, would get bored. Today marked the first day in years that I haven't had some pressing issue to take care of. Nothing needs my personal attention. I don't have anything waiting on me, the clock isn't staring at me, daring me to procrastinate just a little longer. I have been trying to keep my hands busy, so I set out to make a sling for my wee one. Yes, I'm babywearing. And if I may say so myself, it turned out lovely. I've included a picture. As for the rest of my time, I am a woman of leisure. I am free.

Bored? My ass!


baby watch 2008

Well, I'm doing this update on both blogs, since there are so many people to cover...

As of right now...no baby. I had dilated to 3cm, and my doctor and I were thinking it would be any day now. That sent me into a nesting fury and Matt and I spent the entire weekend rearranging furniture, doing all of our last minute shopping, sanitizing every surface of the house and pigging out when we were done. I've been shoving down the spicy food with wild abandon, trying to make her come out of her hidey-hole. I went to an awesome Rock Band party, in hopes the noise and activity would draw her out. I figured if nothing else, some nice conversation would be enticing. Plus, I'm having to say "goodbye" to everyone for a while.

So, now I'm at the worst spot. Everything is done, and I'm just waiting. I voted. I got all caught up at work. I'm just sitting here now, waiting for the slightest twinge or cramp in my belly. It's maddening.

I went to my cousin's aunt's house (that sounds weird...) and was playing with her new babies. She had twin boys a few months back. Now, what I loved, besides their supreme cuteness, was the fact that both of them, combined, at birth weighed as much as my baby did a week ago. Two months later, they've hit 9lbs each, so I was holding a baby last night, that was the size of the one in me. Pretty awesome experience.

Then, in the midst of conversation, I said a beautiful sentence. "I alaways love to feed my family that way..." We had been talking about sitting down to dinner, and this seemingly innocuous statement fell out of my mouth. I realized, that the word family had taken on a different meaning to me. No longer was it my mom and sisters and dad and cousins. My family is under my room now. The man who feeds me and gets me ice water and fetches every little thing my immobile ass desires. The daughter at the party in my tummy, waiting to come out and take over the house. The other daughter, in El Paso, sitting on pins and needles, going crazy with anticipation, waiting for her little sister to make her big debut. Suddenly, so much seems so trivial and small.

I made a lot of mistakes in my life, searching for something that I thought I could easily create. I thought if I was funny and charming, and laughed the most, and had cool friends, and listened to the newest bands, I'd fill the huge gap I had in me. And while those things are important, and they're me, and I love that that is what makes up me, I didn't realize the happiness to be found in creating your own family.

Ok, sap time is over. The news is this...I go to the doctor on Thursday to see where I'm at. If I haven't had this child on my own, she's going to induce me on the 14th. So, at this point, we're locked in a standoff of Branch Davidian proportions, except hopefully the ATF won't burn my vagina down. I will of course, keep you guys all posted on the status.


That baby was gorgeous!

So, just had my last sonogram today. I'm a month exactly from my due date, and this kid weighs eight pounds and six ounces. That's EIGHT pounds and SIX ounces. This kid needs a salad.

In any case, we're having a huge baby, and it's happening sooner than expected. In two weeks, I'll hit 38 weeks, then she wants to induce me, most likely. Yay! Baby will be here soon.

In other news, the sweet potato feet. My feet have swelled up to the size of sweet potatoes, and kind of look like them too. I'm undergoing my "pee in a jug for 24 hours and bring it in" preclampisia test, but most likely it's nothing.

I'll keep you all updated!