I really SHOULD buy a fire extinguisher.

Well, I am once again employed and my new job really doesn't involve the internet in any fashion, thank the good lord Jesus because we all know what happens when I'm on the internet- I encourage anarchy, lawlessness, left-wingism and heavy drinking. I am very dangerous. I am single-handedly erroding America's good, wholesome family values as we speak.

I have to say again that I feel very... constipated and uncomfortable to have this entire section of my life that I can't write about. I'm thinking of writing to Oprah about it. Oprah, if you're reading this, maybe you should do a show on bloggers who get fired because of their writing and still think that they ought to be able to write whatever they damn well please! Good idea!

So Jason, in all his glory as The Most Distractable Man In America, managed to leave his car running, unlocked, for nine hours yesterday. He has to park and ride a shuttle to his work, and the shuttle was leaving and he was trying to get all his stuff out of the car quickly so he could run to meet it. When the shuttle dropped him off that evening he said he thought, "Man, whose car is running?" As he approached his, he saw the keys in the ignition and the lights on and realized, "Hey! Woops! MY car is running!"

It makes me think of the time that Kristi and I almost burnt down my mom's house trying to re-heat soup. Yes, friends, you can start a fire with cold soup. IT CAN BE DONE. My mom had done the unthinkable and left us alone in the house, and we decided to heat up some beef stew for lunch. We put it on stove and turned it on and then thought, "Hey, we should really leave this red-hot unit and head back to the very back of the house to play Barbies with the bedroom door closed so that we won't know if anything ODD is going on up here in the kitchen!" My dog Poochie came back with us, and about an hour later she was shuffling in circles and looking at us as if to say, "You fucking idiots! We're about to die in an inferno if you don't get us the hell out of here! Do you have any treats?" That's when we noticed the smell of smoke, so we opened the door and the house was indeed totally filled with smoke. We got out fine, and no real damage was done to the house besides a couple of burnt spots on the countertops, but it just goes to show you how stupid smart people really are.

Batten down the hatches, folks; a storm's a comin'.

Well, there's weather in Alabama, which means most people around here are taking cover in their storm shelters after buying out every loaf of bread and every gallon of milk in the tri-county area. This happens three or four times a year- some massive storm system will head our way, and every news anchor and weather person around will start talking about all the devastation and destruction it's going to cause, then all the schools will close, then everyone will go temporarily insane and start driving really badly and buying lanterns, and then we'll get some rain, and then life will go back to normal. Except everyone will be trying to decide what to do with all those bulk packages of peanut butter and batteries they bought.

I don't want to tempt fate here- sometimes we do get some really awful weather that does some really awful damage. But that tends to happen about one out of eight or ten times that we go through all this, so most times it's easier just to assume that it won't be that bad, because it's usually not.

My grandparents' house caught on fire yesterday. I'm not entirely sure about the story, but my dad said that the kitchen will probably have to be completely remodeled. They're both fine, thank goodness, but a little shaken up. They've gone to stay at my dad's house, I guess until their house is fixed, which means dad and Wanda's lives are going to be enriched by the sweet sounds of the woes of constant ailments, and they might want to see if they can fireproof... well, everything.

Miracle growed.

I've got a job interview tomorrow. I hope all goes well. After the interview, I'll tell you guys the name of the company and the names of all the people who work there along with some company secrets and scandals. HA. Just kidding. I'm going to find a much more creative way of getting fired this time, because getting fired because of your blog is SO five minutes ago.

It is so nice to have a semi-tolerable baby back again. The roseola thing definitely made me think seriously about making a sandwich sign that says "Don't have kids because they might get roseola and then you'll want to commit suicide by sticking your head into the garbage disposal." But then I started thinking that it would have to be a big sign to fit all that on there, and I'm pretty lazy, so I decided nevermind.

In other news, I have a whole lot of free time. I mean, there are entire days in which I just try and think of stuff to do that isn't "go to Target" and "clean the house", because you gotta mix it up, you know? It's always a bit of a race to the finish line, because I have to manage to take a shower at some point, and I have to be home by 3:30 for Kane and Jude, so there's this window of time in which I can do other things. Some days we go to the park, some days we ride around and take pictures, some days we see how many different things we can eat in one afternoon, like leaves, bark, dirt, rocks, and fertilizer. Tasty, huh? Maybe that's why Reed grows like a weed- all that fertilizer.

My baby got sauce; yo' baby ain't sweet like mine.

I met up with Kristi and Linnea yesterday for lunch at Bottletree, and it was really fantastic. I had the vegan chili (orgasm) and the roasted red pepper hummus (orgasm orgasm). The weather was just nice enough to sit outside and drink beers and smoke cigarettes and run our mouths. It was a nice afternoon, and something I needed. We all need to spend some time with our bitches sometimes.



Reed and I are both sick at this point. He's been feverish for a few days, so I'm taking him to the doctor tomorrow. I hope he gets better as soon as possible, but he has been SO SNUGGLY for the past few days. We snoozed together on the couch for several hours this morning. It was so relaxing, and I'm sorry that he has to be sick in order for us to share this closeness.

So far I'm just blowing my nose all over the place; I'm crossing my fingers that it won't progress into nasty cough, misery, suicide by codeine cough syrup mode. We'll see.

Baby Tylenol and a dry martini.

We officially have a sick baby. I'm not really even sure what's wrong with him; he had a fever today, but nothing else appears to be wrong with him. He was enjoying biting on his blanket earlier, so I figure it could be teething. He's had a bit of a runny nose, but it doesn't seem like enough to be a cold. But, never fear. He's been totally fussy and pissy and irreconcilably angry just the same. He did spend about an hour today in my lap, rocking in the rocking chair, just snuggling with me, and it felt really wonderful. It was nice to have that closeness for a little while. He snuggled his head against my chest and rested, and I nuzzled my nose into his hair (what little there is).

Jason and I have been considering some amazing and not entirely realistic plans for our financial/career futures. I'm not going to go into it until I'm totally sure what we're doing, but once we figure it out you guys will be the first to know. I mean, right after we tell my mom. And my dad. And Jason's parents and brothers. And our friends. You guys will be FIRST after them.

We have been enjoying the HELL out of the D80. It is a beautiful piece of photographic genius, and we treat it well. It sleeps in Reed's crib. We figured Reed was ready to move to the attic anyway.

Old friends, new friends.

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Originally uploaded by buffpuff.

Stephanie came over for a while this afternoon, which was great because I really had to pee. Plus, now Reed has a girlfriend.

Leopard print pajama pants, pink houndstooth slippers, a black t-shirt that says "I'm your biggest fang!", and a blue housecoat. Very romantic.

Well, it's Valentine's day and I'm at home with Reed, and he didn't even buy me any candy. How rude.

Jason is in Atlanta for three days, so it looks like it will be a very Agan Valentine's here with Kane, Jude, Reed, and me. I'm thinking to celebrate I might get Kane and Jude to watch Reed this afternoon while I was dishes and try to find a place for all the random crap we have piled in random places. Scandalous, I know, but that's how I roll.

This situation is forcing me to choose between a nap and a shower when Reed is napping, and I gotta tell you, napping is ahead by a mile right now. Of course, I've just wasted a lot of my nap time on internetting. You guys are cool and all, but I'm going to bed.

Did you even know how many hours are in a day? I didn't.

Jason will be going to training in Atlanta for three days this week, and he'll be gone from Wednesday morning until Friday evening. I'm a little nervous about it.

First, I'm apprehensive about being away from Jason for that long. We've never spent that much time away from each other. I know that I'm a pansy, but I'll just miss him, you know? Besides, Reed hasn't learned how to make a good martini yet, so that means I'm going to have to get out of bed and make one MYSELF in the mornings, and that is just so MIDDLE CLASS, isn't it?

Plus, just the idea of three whole days without a single break, without anyone else in the house when I have to get Kane and Jude ready for school, or make supper, or clean up, or take a shower, or pee, or totally wig out to some Butthole Surfers while funneling Schlitz malt liquor and snorting cocaine. Just kidding! I DON'T TAKE SHOWERS!

How lucky that I got fired though, right? Jason wasn't going to be able to attend this particular training because there wouldn't have been anyone to take care of the kids while I was at work. But now I don't have to go to work! It's wonderful.

We were at home last night I MEAN TARGET, same difference, and we decided that we should hang some simple drapes up in the computer room over the sliding glass door. We have trouble keeping that room warm in the winter and cold in the summer, because the outside temperature just seeps right in through the glass. So I'm standing there, and I say, "Yeah, but I'm just having trouble thinking how long 84 inches actually is." Jason stands there for a minute, and then says, "Okay, hang on." And then he starts to unzip his pants.

How can I survive without this man for three whole days?

Creeping feelings of humiliation and regret: $0

Inflamed sense of righteous indignation: $0

The opportunity to take a nap: $0

Hanging out with Reed and Jason all day long, taking showers in the middle of the day, doing the laundry, eating lunch at home while dodging flying bits of meatstick, rocking Reed to sleep, drinking coffee in front of the tv, watching Reed rock out to an iPod commercial: Priceless.

I'd like to say that I'm proud of Ehren Watada. I think what he's doing is a good thing. I hope he gets a lot of press so everyone can hear what democracy sounds like; it's a sound that many of us haven't heard in a long time. You can listen to an interesting piece on him at npr.org.

"Hey you might even get a better job because suddenly you are a minority."

I have to take a moment to say I love you guys, you guys who read this. There are some real gems in the comments lately. These are some of my favorites:

Have you considered going with a Martha Stewart pre-lit tree? Not only are they practical and beautiful, but knowing Martha, they are fortified with 17 essential vitamins and nutrients!

No kids. Okay. Got it.

at least i have balls!

Sometimes the best answer is to say something in your head, revel in your own insight and brillance, and then let it stay there until it can be replaced by your next brilliant idea. But then again, how we end up with such interesting blog entries. Anyway, I'm off to reflect on how I too would like to make sweet man love to that guy who hosts O'Reilly (who incidentally is O'Reilly).

I know that I am just some guy on the internet and all, but please seek professional help.

seriously you like mexican food in almost a creepy kind of way.

I could maybe get you out of a constructive possession charge.

I wonder if REAL indians can do math.

Hope all of your readers don't catch Scarlet fever like that little boy did.

Regarding toilet training, hey as long as they don't cross their streams a nuclear meltdown shouldn't happen (unless of course you're trying to close a portal to another dimension and a scary guy named gozer is nearby).

I suspect, however, that if someone can make peeing into a white porcelain bowl fun they could do the same for hanging jackets.

Our dominatrix is named H & R Block, and we totally submit to her every whim.

So tonight, Jason and I are going to get our taxes done. This is just as good as sex and chocolate, okay? We've been waiting for this; we each had two different jobs last year, so we had to wait on not four but FIVE different W2's to come in the mail as one of Jason's jobs involved swapping from one company to another. Slowly but surely they all trickled in, until finally my W2 for my current job arrived in our mailbox yesterday, and Jason and I exhaled together in ecstasy as we dreamed about this computer and this phone and hundreds of other things that we WON'T BUY with the money because it's all going to pay for Reed, a purchase we made without thinking it through and once he started to scream and malfunction we totally realized that the money could have been spent elsewhere. Except the camera- we're buying the camera. We've talked it over and we totally deserve a nice present with all that money after all the shit that 2006 brought our way, and we should have just enough money to get the camera and finish paying for Reed.

Don't get me wrong; 2006 brought a lot of good things, too. But I have never in my life had a year in which so many bad things happened. We had a wreck that really could have been a lot worse, and I am so thankful that Jason and I weren't hurt and that Reed and Kane and Jude weren't with us. BUT IT STILL BLEW, and was the worst wreck I've ever been involved in. Jason's car broke down, like, a million times. Our house payment randomly went up about $150 a month when we barely had the money to pay it anyway. Reed's ceiling caved in, luckily while he wasn't underneath it. We went through three different arrangements for "Who's keeping Reed?" just so I can work at a job where my boss treats me like I'm an idiot, and we still can't pay the bills. Jason took a job where he was promised all this money and prestige and ended up just having to bend over every day for a bunch of rich guys who didn't give a shit about him or his family. And, to top it all off, I was eyeball-deep in a funk for about three-quarters of this year in the midst of all that other shit, so I really wasn't much help at all. There are plenty of people who have it worse than us, and there are horrors in the world that I will never have to experience, but that doesn't change the fact that this year was HARD. I am happy to be starting a new one even if things are still a little mixed up.

And, hey, even if things are totally messed up this year, you will be able to check out some RIGHTEOUS pictures of us falling apart!

Well, it's about time!

So, I've finally broken into the big time! I've got people hanging around and leaving bizarro judgemental comments on my blog. I'M A REAL BLOGGER NOW, MOM! But apparently not a REAL Indian, because REAL Indians can do math. Apparently I am "just as white and unaware of who [I] actually [am] as most of America", since I accidentally typed the words "one-quarter" instead of "one-eighth". That's good to know, because I would have NEVER come up with that one on my own. I must say, it's good to know that I can just stop proofreading, because someone else is taking care of that for me!

So, this is a linky day. First, did you know that Rage Against the Machine are getting back together for Coachella? That's something I'd like to see. Alas, there's no way I'm going to Coachella. I might be able to, you know, maybe go to the gas station and buy some chips though. THAT WOULD BE AWESOME. (Thanks, Snuh!)

Next, a living fossil is found in Japan. I find this to be both creepy and amazing. (Thanks, Caitlin!)

Lastly, I think this girl must be dating all the boys I know rolled into one. (Thanks, Dooce!)

All my relations.

My grandfather's grandfather was a full-blooded Apache Indian, which has at times seemed very far away from me. Having one-sixteenth Apache blood, I've never told people I was an Indian, or really felt like an Indian person. My mother, however, has always felt like an Indian, and has often identified herself as an Indian woman. Even though she's only *EDIT one-eighth EDIT* Apache, she identifies with the feelings of loss, injustice, doom, hopelessness, impotence, and equal parts of pessimism and optimism that come with being an American Indian. I grew up listening to stories about her Indian ancestors, or about other Indians in general, fighting and struggling and just desiring to live. And you know, I can identify with that struggle, with having to try and find a reason each day to keep trying.

I've often thought that I shouldn't say that I'm Indian. Filling out applications or questionnaires where I was asked to check my race, I usually faulter, have to think about it for a few minutes. My mother raised me as an Indian person, and has never thought that I ought to worry about calling myself Apache. I just feel like it isn't fair to American Indian people for me to claim to be an Indian. I've seen people who I know must be white, pale skin and blue eyes and blonde hair, who talk big talk about being Native American, about how "their people" are discriminated against and they're just so tired of it. And when I see those people talking that way it makes me angry, because I just can't help but think that they have NO IDEA what they're talking about. A woman with blue eyes, light skin, and blonde hair who is a nurse in Alabama and is from "North Alabama" will never know what it feels like to live on the reservation, will never know what it feels like to have to choose between her heritage, family, and culture and the possibility of a better life, will never know what it feels like to walk into a gas station and have people automatically assume that she's lazy, or stupid, or an alchohlic, or just inferior, based only on how she looks. It's because of this that I just feel false, like I'm taking something away from people like Russell Means and Dennis Banks and Leonard Peltier and all the other Indian people who have fought their entire lives to try and have a decent life, if I say that I'm an Indian person.

I spoke to someone on the phone a couple of nights ago who I had never spoken to before in my life, and who immediately changed my outlook on all of this. He said that I shouldn't be afraid to say that I'm an Indian person. I've thought a lot about all of the things he told me, and what I've come to is this: it's not about what I look like, and it's also not about other people's reactions or what they think of me. It's about my own state of mind, my own experiences, my own heart, and information that I have to offer to other people who might not even know that there are still American people, some of the MOST American people that there are, living in awful conditions and being completely ignored by their government, that they aren't extinct, or taken care of, or "gone back where they came from" (THIS IS WHERE THEY CAME FROM).

In short, I'm not about to start screaming it from the roof tops or anything, and I'm still not sure that I'm going to answer "Apache Indian" any time someone asks me about my race (I have had a surprising number of people ask me that over the past few years). But I'm not going to be afraid of that part of myself any more, in that I'm not going to try and squelch down the part of me that identifies so strongly with my mom and our heritage. It is the struggle itself, that very thing- the hardships, defeats, fears, and hopes, that gives me the right and duty to own my bloodline, however small.

The proverbial olden days.

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Originally uploaded by buffpuff.

Yes, there was a simpler time than these days, a time when one didn't feel so obligated to wear clothing, or to bathe in the tub, or to keep one's dishes off of one's naked body. Those were the days. And look at my hand! It's as if I'm saying, "Voila! Just LOOK what I can do!"

If you look at my most recent photos on Flickr, you'll see that we are a family full of good-lookin' ladies with NO SENSE of embarrassment or self-control. It sort of runs in my family to be hot and goofy as hell. And it's not just the ladies, either; we are equal opportunity mortifiers.

There are some pictures of my Grandma and Grandaddy, too. Grandaddy died before I was born. I never knew him, but I do feel like I know him, you know? I think he's around a lot. I've never felt like I didn't know him, I just often feel like I wish he was here. It's odd; it just sort of hits me when something good is happening, or when something bad is happening, how much I wish he was here to talk to me or hug me or play with Reed or shake Jason's hand. I hope that my sister and my cousins are thankful all the time that they got to see him, because I never did and I'm envious. Sometimes I just yearn for him to be here, along with a few others who have gone on to better things like my Grandma and my cousin Jenny. I miss them so. But I know that they're together, and one day I'll be there with them.

For now, I'm going to go sit in the kitchen sink and balance a cup on my big toe. That's how I party. Voila!

Stomach bug? More like a stomach... huge fucking insect or something.

Everyone around me seems to be getting sick. I'm afraid that it's slowly but surely creeping up on me, in the night with a hatchet. Next thing I know I'm going to be hacking up green stuff and puking all over the place.

Kane and Jude both brought home notes from school that said that there's a particularly bad outbreak of influenza going around the school right now, as well as a nasty stomach virus. Apparently kids are catching the stomach virus, staying home for a couple of days, coming back to school, and GETTING RE-INFECTED WITH THE STOMACH VIRUS. AGAIN.

Also, when we came back to work from our lovely Christmas break, one of the reference librarians promptly told us how lovely his break was, as his entire family passed around a stomach virus for, like, a week or something. The very next day, he stayed home as he had finally caught it. Then my boss went home early with the stomach bug on Wednesday, and didn't come in at all yesterday.

As a direct result of all these circumstances, I AM WIGGING MY SHIT. I've been Cloroxing the door knobs, the remotes, the cats. I've been sneaking in on Kane and Jude while they're showering, throwing the shower door open, and dousing them with Lysol. I've been forcing them against their wills to actually wash their hands a couple of times a day. My hands have pretty much disintegrated off of my body from all the soap, hot water, and bleach. I am typing this right now with my stumpy nubs THAT'S ALL THAT'S LEFT AFTER ALL THAT SCRUBBING.

But at least MAYBE we won't get sick. I'll trade my hands for that.

Something, something, stuff.

Today is dreary and damp. Methinks rain and storms are supposed to be moving through all day long.

From what I understand, several of my co-workers were awakened in the night by screaming sirens, beckoning them to take cover from the impending tornadoes. I was awakened in the night be a screaming toddler, beckoning me to kiss his ass if I didn't want to pick him up and keep him company at three a.m.

I bought a wireless router last night and SET IT UP MYSELF. Make fun of me if you will, but that kind of stuff is all Greek to me. I felt fairly proud that I even opened the box, it intimidates me so much; the fact that I opened it, hooked it up, and called the support line for help when it wouldn't connect to the internet which resulted in it being fixed and functional is a HUGE STEP towards joining the world of the 2000's, as far as I'm concerned. I hooked up a router. WELCOME TO 2004, BUFFY. HOPE YOU LIKE IT. Who says this girl can't follow directions? NO ONE, 'CAUSE I CAN.

Our Wii is now fully functional, and connected to the internets. If anyone out there wants to be Wii friends with me, send me yo number!

Mama Mia!

I have a sister named Jennifer who lives in Tennessee; she's my half-sister, really. My dad was married once before he was married to my mom, and Jennifer is the daughter from that marriage. She came down to stay with us a lot when we were kids, and now she comes to visit at holidays and in the summer. But now, it's her AND her husband AND her three kids. Jordan is nine (I think), Elijah is seven (I think), and Addi Beth (Addison Elizabeth) is three (I think) (could I use parentheses any more in a sentence?) (I bet I could). I am a FANTASTIC aunt, as you can tell.

Now, given my recent experience with babies and travel, I have to say that I have nothing but respect and awe for this woman, as she has traveled from Tennessee to Birmingham and back with her three children ALONE on several occasions. Before last Sunday, I always thought, "Wow, that must be tough." Now, post-Sunday, I think, "Not even if Donald Trump wanted to give me sixty million dollars. Not even if Oprah wanted to profile me on her show and give me a car. Not even if God told me that I could eat Mexican food and steaks all day every day and never gain a pound. Not even if I could do all three of those things would I make that trip with three kids alone THAT'S HOW MUCH I WOULD NEVER DO IT." You think I'm being crazy and melodramatic? YOU DO IT AND LET'S SEE, THEN COME TALK TO ME.

She's really a fantastic mama. She's one of those moms who always looks cute, and always has a smile on her face until one of her kids makes the mistake of messing with her and then she's ALL BUSINESS, for serious though. She has got the mama voice and all the phrases perfected. At my dad's Christmas dinner, they decided that they wanted to take pictures of each individual family, like a picture of Jason, Kane, Jude, Reed, and myself as a family. So Jennifer spent several minutes trying to get Addi Beth rounded up, and finally bribed her by saying, "What if daddy holds you in the picture? Will you smile and be still if daddy holds you?" The second Addi Beth agreed, Jennifer announced, "Okay, I need all the Johnsons FRONT AND CENTER RIGHT THIS SECOND." And you know what? They came immediately, no questions asked. That's the true test of your abilities as a mother- if you can get three children to stop their three, separate activities in three different locations and do what you've asked with no complaints or questions, you've succeeded in ways that I will probably never experience.

I resolve to kick ass at several Wii games by the end of the year.

We got out replacement Wii console from Nintendo yesterday. I have to say, the folks at Nintendo are very helpful and polite, and our replacement got here FAST. I talked to the fellow on Thursday afternoon, and the console shipped two hours after we talked, and got here within two business days (considering that Monday was a holiday). So THANK YOU, MATT AT NINTENDO, you kept me from freaking out and throwing any parts of my faulty Wii out the kitchen window which I have done before to things (or, let's face it, people) that irritated me.

Being back at work SUCKS. That's all I really have to say about that. My boss could still form DIAMONDS out of a lump of coal if she just put it in the right place.

I am very excited about tax time, because among other things, I'm pretty sure we're going to buy this camera. Jason and I are both really excited about it. Could we use the money for more important things like hospital bills or credit card debt? NO WE COULD NOT BECAUSE I SAID SO.

When it might be a good idea to leap from a moving vehicle.

This has been a really wonderful, if LONG AS HELL, holiday season. We had Christmas at my aunt Susie's house on December 23; we ate yummy comfort food and opened presents. We had Christmas at Jason's brother's house on Christmas Eve, where we ate more yummy comfort food and rushed through Dirty Santa to get home and have a very small, impromptu Christmas Eve gathering of our own. We went to my mom's house on Christmas day and ate even more comfort food and opened presents. We went out to eat at a Vietnamese restaurant on December 26 with a bunch of our buddies, and had drinks after at the Upside Down Plaza. We went to my dad's house for Christmas and food on December 30, where we spent time with my brother and sister from Tennessee and all their kids.

Over the last couple of weeks we got to spend a lot of time with our friends John and Amanda, who live in New Orleans. I'm glad that we got to see them and hang out with them so much. We normally don't get to spend so much time with them, due to our own obligations and the fact that their time is coveted by a WHOLE BUNCH of people when they're here.

The peak of bizarre holiday ideas gone wrong was on December 31, when we drove to Watertown, Tennessee, for Jason's mom's family's annual Christmas gathering. In the three years that Jason and I have been married, I've never made it up there for the Christmas party. Right after we were married, we had just gotten back from our honeymoon and didn't feel like we could afford to take any time off of work and were exhausted from all the getting married and honeymooning. I don't remember why we didn't go the next Christmas, but I'm sure that it had something to do with the get-together being on New Year's Eve (it always is), and our wanting to go to a party here in Birmingham. Last Christmas, we had just had Reed, and I didn't want to travel with a three-week-old baby. This year, we felt like we ought to just go since we'd skipped it so much and none of his relatives there had met Reed. I was JUST A LITTLE BIT FUCKING NERVOUS about taking Reed on his first long car trip; eight hours in the car seemed a little excessive to me. But, besides me and my mother, everyone seemed to think that it was no big deal, so I tried not to worry about it.

We left at about 8:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, and things seemed fine. I drove, and Reed and Jason slept for a little while, and we had a nice time. Reed stayed pretty calm and happy for the entire four hour drive there. We got there, and it was a little hectic running around and keeping an eye on him, but we had a good time. YES, WE ATE EVEN MORE HOLIDAY FOOD, our sixth holiday feast of the season, and it was damn tasty. I had an apple martini and almost fell down in the basement because the step from the house into the garage isn't connected to the wall and no one told me. We hung out with the horses, and Reed said, "That's the biggest fucking dog I've ever seen, no way am I petting him."

We managed to leave by 4:00 p.m., which was perfect timing to get back to Birmingham in order to get Kane and Jude to Mary's house and Reed to Ramey's house and us to a bar by 9:00 for New Year's Eve. At that time, Reed still hadn't had a nap at all, so I thought he might just sleep the whole way home. Jason drove, and the rest of us fell asleep pretty quickly. Around 5:00, we all woke up, and Reed started to fuss and cry. I thought he was poopy, but he wasn't, so he went back in his seat and we pressed on. We cried for the majority of the rest of the trip, until about 8:00. He literally cried for most of the time from 5:00 until 8:00. I managed to make it to 6:30 before I started to cry. I can't really explain what it was like to sit there, listening to him really crying, not just fussing or being irritable, for three hours straight in that particular situation. We were far from home, and didn't really have any option other than to continue to try and get home. We stopped three or four times to change his diaper and mess with him some, and that would calm him down for a few minutes. But within five minutes of being back in his seat he'd start crying again. He had diarrhea, which really helped things along, let me tell you. Having the burning poo on a road trip as an adult is difficult enough; having it when you poop in your pants and can't describe what you're feeling and are forced to be strapped in to a seat must be awful. We tried giving him water, juice, and snacks, playing with him, giving him toys, nothing worked. I was about 50% concerned about my child, about his welfare and his state of mind, and about 50% concerned that I might just throw myself out the window at any given moment. It was the longest three hours of my life, worse than pregnancy, worse than the hour I spent pushing his almost-eight-pound body out of my vagina. There is no epidural for the pain and discomfort of travel, folks. It was HARROWING. By the time we made it home, Reed's face and my face were swollen and red, and we were both stinky and dirty, and I was ready to quit this thing called life and get a heroin habit already.

But, we made it through. I've already been saying, "Maybe next year Reed should stay at my mom's when we go up there. Or maybe we should just have ONE Christmas party at our house and tell EVERYONE that if they want to see us at Christmas, they'll just have to come to our house." I don't know yet. All I know is that I have learned that my instincts should not always be chalked up to fear and paranoia; SOMETIMES I'M ACTUALLY RIGHT.