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Like everyone else, I wanted to do something Significant yesterday to mark Obama's inauguration. Going to DC was out, of course. With the too-bitter-for-a-baby weather in Atlanta and pre-school pick-up to think about, I couldn't even go to Centennial park downtown to watch the oath on a jumbotron. And the local democrat bar was too smoky for Plum. So at the last minute, I invited some girlfriends in similar straits over for lunch in front of the tube. After dropping LaLa at school, I dashed to the store for an all-American meal -- fried chicken and apple pie. Then we all huddled in our little TV room with three babies and two toddlers and strained to listen to our new leader as the kids cooed, cried, and crashed about the room. Tears were shed as Obama finished his address. We all cheered when W. climbed onto that helicopter. We ate too much pie. Then we rushed through nursings and diaper changes before dashing out again to pick up our big kids from school. 

It was anything but ceremonial or profound, but somehow watching our amazing, brave new president take the oath amongst the baby-filled chaos that is my life at the moment--with other women who like me work part-time, parent all the time, and hoped we were helping to make the world a better place by voting for Obama in November -- felt just right. Even if I wasn't "there," I'll always remember it. 
And I'm saving the front pages of today's newspapers for Plum's baby book so some day, she can see what was happening in the world when she was just beginning hers. 
To new beginnings! 
xoxo
Elizabeth

"You mean Bush is STILL in office? Let's get on with this thing, shall we?!" 
Happy New Year, everyone! Tonight we go to a kid-friendly soiree from which we'll probably be home by 9. Tomorrow, we'll definitely be eating our black-eyed peas for luck and collard greens for money, because, like everyone else, we could use some of both! 
Despite the economic catastrophe, I can't talk the same smack about 2008 that everyone else is because our dear Plum joined us in 2008. So for me, it was a very good year. But like most, I'm eagerly looking forward to a Barackariffic 2009, hopefully full of health, happiness, and lots of good YA novels. (I find lately I crave sleep a little less and the time to curl up with a great YA a little more. Which perhaps means I've officially left the newborn trenches?) 
All the best. Hopefully you'll see more blogging from me in the new year. I'm gearing up for a return to work. Yahoo! 
xoxo
Elizabeth

Plum is seven weeks old as of yesterday. Which means, erm, it's been about seven weeks since I last blogged. I'm loving this two-kid thing. I mean, I am blissed out by my baby and LaLa seems to have gotten past her most recent phase, which made her, frankly, a little obnoxious, knock-your-head-against-the-wall repetitive, and tantrummy. She's back to her sweet, sassy self. And she's in love with the baby, too. 

The only rub is, there's hardly any time to do anything but parent. And do a shabby semblance of cleaning and organizing because I'll go out of my gourd if I don't. (But of course, I don't do a good enough job at the cleaning and organizing which is almost as frustrating as not cleaning and organizing at all. This is a girl thing, according to my husband, who doesn't mind chaos in the slightest.) 
But I'm feeling the tiniest of itches--the urge to write and a new book idea percolating. But since I'm too overwhelmed to do much with that idea yet, I might as well natter a bit here with highlights of the blur since birth: 
� Obama got elected. Whoooooo! And whew! 
� My diaper bag was stolen. Which sucked more than one would expect. I felt creepy and violated knowing that someone was sifting through all my stuff -- wallet, house and car keys, phone, camera containing lots of undownloaded pics of my kids, LaLa's favorite sweater, and one of Plum's tiny little newborn outfits. But after dealing with all the cancelled credit cards and lock changes and such, I've forgotten about all of it. Except the camera, sniff. 
� Plum got baby eczema, baby acne, and an unfortunate bald spot, all in the same week. But with a little hydrocortisone cream and some fast-growing fuzz, she's adorable again. 
� We all got sick, even little Plum, unlike her sister who was born in the spring and sheltered from all germs by her over-anxious parents. Now, LaLa comes home from pre-school, her nose running, and dashes straight to the baby and practically licks her, so in love is she. And thus, Plum has been coughing and throwing up all week and we've been to the pediatrician -- seriously -- FOUR times in the past eight days. But she's finally getting better. And big picture, I think it's better to have a big sister who's so loving that she's infectious than one who can't stand her little sib, don't you? 
� Media tie-in queen Judy Blundell won the National Book Award. Yay!!! And hmmmmmm! I've written my share of media tie-ins. Perhaps there's hope for me yet! (I was also super-proud to see that my Girlfriends Cyber-Circuit sister, E. Lockhart was a finalist. Wowee!!!!) 
� My niece was bat mitzvahed and did fabulously. And there was Thanksgiving, at which I was thankful for too many things to count. 
And on that note, the baby's clamoring to be fed so back to the (happy) chaos I go. 
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Elizabeth

The baby's here, the baby's here, the baby's here!!!! And it's another girl! I'm the mother of sisters! Can you tell I'm ecstatic? And overwhelmed and tired and dazed. But mostly ecstatic! 

There's too much to tell right now, as I'm snatching a moment between loads of Drefty laundry, paying lots of attention to LaLa, and nursing, nursing, and nursing some more. But here are the highlights . . . 
* Perhaps because I was in denial that it would ever happen, I went into ACTUAL LABOR! Last Sunday. Literally hours before I was supposed to check into the hospital to be induced. It lasted about seven hours before Plum popped out in a fifteen-minute delivery at exactly 10 p.m.
* Labor hurts. It hurts just how everybody says it hurts -- so badly that you really can't imagine it if you haven't experienced it. 
* Also, epidurals are made of awesome. 
* Plum (I think I'll just keep calling her Plum in this blog, because I think it's cute, but of course, in real life, she has a name that we think is just lovely and that everybody is already mispronouncing, just like her big sister's name. Jeez. You pick a name that's just a little bit Jewy and people get all verklempt. But we still love it.) weighed six pounds, five ounces and was 19.5 inches long. And she looks JUST like LaLa did, yet also somehow, not. 
* She is SWEET! And she eats! And sleeps! Which sounds unremarkable, I know, but LaLa spent the first few months of her life doing little of either. (She was too busy screaming, you see.) So this seems like a miracle! Of course, whenever we get cocky and declare her the best baby EVER, she gets fussy. Just so we know who's in charge. 
* She is gorgeous.



Yes, that is LaLa holding her. LaLa talks about being a big sister, oh, about once every five minutes. She's REALLY into the baby. She's also a little annoyed with us for disrupting her LaLa-centric world. But, until Plum has the ability to start stealing LaLa's toys, at least, it looks like we've got a good sibling sitch going. 
* Last and least, I am no longer diabetic! I can eat again! Which is good because breastfeeding makes you really hungry. Husband, who is also made of awesome, brought me a Krispy Kreme in my hospital bed the morning after Plum's birth, but strangely, I haven't been on the sugar-gorge-fest I expected. Instead, I'm obsessed with turkey-and-salami sandwiches. (I had to forgo not only carbs throughout my pregnancy, but also deli  because it can give you listeria.) But Halloween, oh it is coming!
Time to feed the baby again! More from girlville soon. . . 
xoxo
Elizabeth

And I mean GREAT! Check out this mega-bump, my people. 

I'm so large and lumbering that I've been completely USELESS ever since I finished my book series two weeks ago. In theory, it's been lovely being on maternity leave before the baby has arrived, but in practice, all I've been able to do is exist in survival mama mode when taking care of LaLa; sleep or read Jennifer Belle books (a recent obsession) or stare into space when she's at school or napping. I mean, I haven't even been able to compose an e-mail, much less a blog. 
But for the past couple days, I've had a burst of energy! I've cleaned out closets! I've finally knitted my almost-baby a hat, complete with eyelets for a girly- or boyey-colored ribbon depending on who we get. I've organized every corner of the house. I've caught up on my so-neglected-it's-cobwebby facebook account. I voted (see below).  I packed the suitcase for the hospital. I helped husband cook and freeze meals. I even considered buying a minivan. 
Uh, yeah, that's when you know you've got to rein in the nestiness. We came to our senses and decided to wait on that one. But I can't say I don't still dream about those automatic sliding doors and a back seat big enough to hold two carseats without squishing the adults up front into back-cramping fetal positions. We'll see. . . 
(This might be a good time--lest you draw any conclusions from my lust for a giant, gas-guzzling progeny-mobile about some of my other choices--to direct you to ²¹²Ô»åÌý. I'm a proud member of both.) 
Anyway, all this nesting is soon going to bear fruit. I had two doctor appointments today and got a date: October 13th. That's the day I check into the hospital to be induced, unless I go into labor first. That's (most likely) my baby's birthday. 
I'm speechless with excitement. Also because my ginormous belly is funneling most of the blood away from my brain. So just stay tuned because in a week or less, I'll have NEWS. And instead of being stupefied by pregnancy, I'll be stupefied by extreme sleep deprivation. But I won't care because I will be a mama. Again. How lucky am I? 
xoxo
Elizabeth

Oh man! I just saw that "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist," based on the fabulously fun  by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan, opens in October, which is also the month that Plum the fetus becomes ??? the baby. 

It would be the height of uncool to take my newborn to this movie, right? Normally, newborns and movies are actually a great combo. The baby (if you play your cards right) just nurses and sleeps through the whole thing, and you get to indulge in a couple hours of Life as Normal People Know It. The first few months are pretty much the only opportunity during your time as a baby mama that you can even attempt to go the movies without having to get a sitter. 
But jiggling my babe in his/her sling while I watch Nick (Michael Cera!) and Norah embark on their badass, wee hours love adventure might be just a bit of a buzzkill for the teenagers sitting in the theater seats nearby, eh? 
Or it could be a useful cautionary lesson, which I like to impart whenever I can: Dudes, practice safe, or no, sex or this could be YOU nerdily toting your baby to the movies in stretchy pants. 
As if Bristol Palin, poor thing, isn't enough of a cautionary lesson for us all. (Think losing your freedom, education, and sanity when you become a teen mother is bad? How about having your mother parade you and your baby bump in front of the world as her own personal political pawn at the same time???) 
Speaking of the whole Palin travesty, which I sort of can't stop obsessing about (and clearly I'm not the only one) check out the crazy-brilliant Maureen Johnson's eloquent  about the situation. Go Maureen! 
xoxo
Elizabeth

I'm having a surreal day over here because LaLa is in SCHOOL! Well, pre-school, and only for four hours until I pick her up at 1:30, but still! She's huge! She has a life of her own now! I mean, I'm home working and she's off at school and I have no idea what she's doing! Well, actually, according to the schedule of "Classroom Rhythms" we got from her teachers, she's having Circle Time right now, before going outside for recess in the safe and ecologically correct "play garden" that I've carefully toured. 

But there's still a tiny aura of mystery around her day. What the heck to they DO in circle time, anyway? It's a slippery slope until LaLa comes home and when I ask her how school was, she drones, "Fine." 
"What'd you do?" 
"Nothin'." Which means she was actually smoking behind the bleachers and cribbing some other kid's biology notes. 
True, such secret-keeping surely won't start for years and years, given that we've been hearing a passionate running monologue for the past two days about LaLa's beloved new chapstick and her new imaginary friend (he's a pirate, but a nice one!) and every other thought (and I mean EVERY ONE) that crosses her busy little mind. 
But, still! My girl's growing up. Like every parent on this day, I'm feeling alternately elated and like I have to put my head between my knees and take deep breaths so I won't pass out from the warp-speed that is baby time. Of course, there's no way I can get my head between my knees because I have this giant fetus in the way, which is a kind reminder that, "Hey, the baby years ain't over by a long shot!" I'm thrilled about that. 
I'm also glad that, when I put LaLa down for her post-school nap this afternoon, she'll probably snuggle into my arms the way she usually does and say, "Mama, hold me like a baby and we'll rock and talk." 
For at least for a little while longer, I get to have my schoolkid and my baby, too. Which is even better than having your cake and eating it, too. And coming from a diabetic, that is high praise. 
Now, I must write and have an adult lunch involving no peanut butter, jelly, spilled milk, or demands that I somehow paste two apple halves back together because "I wanted it WHOOOOOOOLE." Because that's all happening at SCHOOL! Yippee! 
xoxo
Elizabeth

Okay, I'm not going to lie to you--stress levels around my house have been a wee bit HIGH lately. There's really not a lot of time to go before this baby arrives, and in that time, I have to write a whole 'nother book! A short, paperback one, yes, but even that is pretty hard when your brain is being held hostage by your hormones, not to mention your two-year-old, who, perhaps sensing the seismic shift her world is about to undergo, is being just a tiny bit DEMANDING lately. As in, "I want cookies in a BOWL. Not THAT bowl, the other bowl. You know, the OTHER one. No, the OTHERRRRR ONNNNEEE. Um, never mind. I don't want a bowl, I want a BAG. No, not THAT one. . ." 

There are things I want to do before Plum arrives, tiny things really--write some thank you notes, knit a going-home-from-the-hospital beanie, organize LaLa photos--but I'm so huge and addled that these projects seem IMPOSSIBLE. At least without the help of a lot of chocolate which I TOTALLY CANNOT EAT BECAUSE I HAVE GESTATIONAL DIABETES. Which is getting harder and harder to control, btw. 
And I'm still in denial about the fact that I actually have to GIVE BIRTH to this baby. Giving birth, as you might have heard or read, can be a sort of BIG DEAL for which many people prepare exhaustively, practicing breathing and positions and making birth plans and stuff. I, of course, have done nothing because I'm in denial that it will ever actually happen. Yeah, yeah, I know I did it once already but it's still hard to wrap your mind around the fact that an ACTUAL PERSON IS GOING TO COME OUT OF YOUR BODY. It never stops being a little bizarro, no matter how many times you do it, no? Or is that just me? 
Some things have helped. I went to see a nice dietitian last week who said, 'You're not eating enough. You need way more carbs." Yippee! And when I told her I'd done some internet reading about glycemic indexes and thus, had cut low-fat ice cream from my menu plan, not only did she give me permission to eat it (in half-cup servings, of course) she said, "It's dairy! You need the calcium and protein." I lurve her! 
I've also let Diet Coke back into my life. The kind with Splenda, which fetuses seem to prefer to aspartame, and like, only half-a-can a day. Judge me if you will, pregnancy purists. I don't care. My afternoon treat of diet coke on crushed ice makes me SO happy. The baby jumps for joy when I drink it, too. Perhaps s/he likes the bubbles. (Okay, okay, I know it's the caffeine. But hello, this kid is already going to be short and probably kind of hyper and neurotic. It's in the genes. So I figure a little caffeine won't make any difference. ;-) 
What else helps get me through these lumbering, hungry, have-to-pee-every-five-minutes days? Visions of my baby, of course! Not only can I not wait to meet this little creature, whom I expect to be just like its big sister and totally different from its big sister, but I can't help but think--if I can just get through this book, these last weeks of dieting and blood-testing and doctor appointments and yes, even the birth--that I will then take a three month (or so) maternity leave, which sounds an awful lot like VACATION. I know, I know, it's not. I know taking care of two little kiddies is a huge responsibility and can be REALLY difficult, especially when you never sleep more than two hours at a time and, oh yeah, feed your baby with your BREASTS. 
It is no vacation, but it IS an amazing, joyful, crazy time, those first weeks with a new baby. It's also, shall we say, not the most intellectually taxing time in one's life. My priorities will be pretty much boiled down to a few simple edicts: keep myself and my children fed, dressed in clean clothes, and reasonably presentable. Keep house clean, if not pretty. Sleep at every opportunity. Make it to doctor appointments and take LaLa to preschool two days a week. Cuddle, kiss and coo at children constantly. Play with LaLa every chance I get. Try not to neglect Husband TOO much. Everything else--writing, social obligations, making the bed, working off the baby weight, keeping up with the news, having people over for dinner, doing house projects, etc. etc. etc.--will just get put on the shelf for a while, if I kindly let myself do that. 
At this point, I'm more than willing to. And that's what going to get me through these last weeks before, once again, life changes forever. I'm ready. 
Except for the whole giving birth part, of course. 
xoxo
Elizabeth

Every once in a while, Lala will pluck one of my books off a shelf and tromp around the house with it, "reading" a page or two or just crumpling up the cover.

"Oh," I'll say, "you know, I actually wrote that book."

"Oh, you did?" LaLa will say, polite but bored.

"Would you like me to read some of it to you?"

"Nah." And then she moves on to a more interesting toy, like an empty paper towel tube.

Yesterday we had lunch with our friend  and her boys. Laurel gifted us with a brand new copy of her about-to-be-published book,  (which is fabulous, witty, and adorable--you should so read it). I showed LaLa the author photo on the jacket and said, "Laurel wrote this book! Isn't that great?

To which LaLa shrugged, popped in another chicken nugget, and looked at Laurel's son, Mose, with a blank expression. "What's the big deal?" she seemed to be saying. "All moms write books, don't they?"

Maybe some day she'll figure out that, not only don't all moms write books, but all moms aren't crazy-neurotic writers. At which point, I'll either become more glamorous in her eyes, or much, much less!

xoxo

Elizabeth

Okay, I'm at that point with my gestational diabetes where my blood sugar is all over the map, but mostly northward. I swear, one measly, innards-carved-out piece of bread with dinner can send my glucose measurement soaring! Which means I'm cutting carbs in a major way. 

Which also means that all I can think about is food. All. I. Can. Think. About. 
I also have NO energy. But when I try to catnap, visions of parkerhouse rolls and hot fudge sundaes with cherry vanilla ice cream dance before my closed eyes, keeping me up. (At least, that's what was on the menu yesterday.) 
This also happened when I was writing Chicks with Sticks 2. I was pregnant and undernourished (okay, not technically, but sometimes it FELT that way) and the Chicks always seemed to end up EATING. All the foods I couldn't. I still remember writing a stitch 'n bitch to which  Bella brought squishy strawberry Australian licorice. I could taste it! (Oh, durn. Now I can add licorice to my list of forbidden cravings.) 
Now it's happening again. Today, I'm writing a scene that takes place at a horse track. But do I care about the noble thoroughbreds or the sleaze of the betting windows? Nope! It's all about the hot dogs, nachos, and peanuts. Yummmmm. Luckily, the character in the scene is quite the snacker (seems to be a theme with my characters) so it works. 
And happily, I've discovered a new snack, inspired by Sarah Dessen, who blogs about these all the time: deviled eggs! They're so much tastier than mealy old hard boiled eggs and--like all finger foods--fun to pop into your mouth like so much Australian licorice. And each egg has, count it, exactly 1 gram of carbs from the mayo, which counts as a freebie. So I'm free to eat them until I get sick of them to my heart's content. 
Of course, they'd taste even better smushed into a parkerhouse roll, but I'll try not to think about that now. Instead, I have to go write about hot dogs and nachos. That'll help! 
xoxo
Elizabeth