My son has a goal. This is good, something I would want for him, the ability to set and attempt to reach goals. Wonderful! I can add this to his list of attributes...My smart, talented, beautiful and now goal-oriented 3-year-old son. If only his single goal in life were not to see how many times he could say my name in a 24-hour period, I could die a blissfully happy woman.

I know you think I'm exaggerating but I'm NOT. His teacher (daycare provider, caregiver, you pick) has told me that he'll lapse into calling her "Mama" several times throughout the course of a conversation! I've tallied his current record at 10,285 times a day. With "Dada" a close second.

I have discovered an underground cult. They could be your sister, your bus driver, that little old lady innocently clipping hedges across the street. They are...bum ba BUM...coupon clippers! The advent of the Internet has opened up wide new avenues to those who before simply dutifully clipped the coupons their families might need that month. Today you can visit entire websites geared towards the sale and trade of that priceless commodity, the coupon. At first I gaped, then I scoffed. Now...I trade. I'm a blatant abuser of the Sunday paper's insert, and if I see the word "FREE" my heart does a little hop-skip-jump. Newsprint gold. Invaluable on the open market. I remember a commercial about some guys in an Internet cafe, trading stocks and bonds or something, and the one guy has to warn the other to duck, because there is money flying in the air over their heads. The virtual trade. Well, ladies and gentleman (not a typo, I think there's maybe ONE guy out there doing this), you may want to duck again, because the coupons are FLYING, baby.

I can just imagine when my children are older and asking me about "back in the day," I can tell them about that thar new-fangled thang called the Intry-net and how I used to trade coupons across the country to keep them in name-brand diapers and bath soap. I'll be one of the Google Generation, a proud Ebay parent and a WebMD-certified Dr. Mom. The more I think about it, the more I realize just how heavily I rely on the Internet. Which begs the question...What did we do BEFORE said Internet?? Did we really wait til family functions to brag about our kids? Did we really wait til the 6'o'clock news for our updates, or even, crazily, the newspaper the NEXT DAY? Ludicrous to think how stale that news seems when compared to the instant gratification of CNN.com. But the dinosaur we call the common newspaper survives for what I believe may be one reason, and one reason alone...that damnable coupon insert.

I'm so sad. I'm weaning my baby, who may very well end up being THE baby, since he may be our last child. Ask me on a peaceful spring day, when the breeze is blowing just right and everyone is fed and rested and happy, and I will gaze off wistfully into the distance and say that we don't know if we're "done," that another would be really nice, maybe a girl...Then come back another day, when one is inexplicably crying and the other is actively trying to crawl inside my butt while the third starts a bonfire with the classic literature I've bought him and I will scream NEVER AGAIN! This is too many right NOW!!

So I am in the process of weaning, which currently means my left boob is 3 times the size of my right one...Good times. A blocked milk duct is JUST how I wanted to spend my final days of breast-feeding, thank you God. I'm considering a mastectomy...I won't need them anymore, right? SO doth protest.

I sincerely hope the average passerby can't tell one boob is dramatically larger than the other. I suppose I should enjoy these last days they are large at all...Once I am truly done, finito, with breast-feeding, these puppies are going to be SHOT. I'll need a WonderBra 5000 and a commercial lift-truck to get these guys anywhere in the NEIGHBORHOOD of perkiness.

So this is the trade, my youthful body for 2 beautiful children? Its worth it...Most days.

Hmmm, back up and running, are we now Blogger? Excellent.

I think I'll have some people over on the 24th for SO's birthday...Actual birthday falls on the 28th, but who wants to party like its 1999 on a Wednesday? So I'm thinking cookout, since the weather's lovely and everybody loves our ribs...I say that as if we come together in beautiful symphony, he the melody and I the harmony as we whip up some masterful creation and rub the ribs with spices picked from our organic herb garden...In actuality it is Open Pit. On grocery-store-bought pork ribs. But SO is a master at the grill, flipping and slathering and looking good in general with his button-down shirt blowing in the breeze. The grill is his domain, and he rules it like...a ruler. Of manly things.

So would it be wrong to ask him to grill at his own party? Its something he enjoys, but also a bit of work, sort of like sex so I'm going to say no, no it wouldn't bother him a bit.

Our get-togethers are always successful when I just call friends and ask them to "stop by." When I go to the trouble of making out invitations and making food (or food arrangements, rather) and cleaning and whatnot, people's baby-sitters mysteriously fall through, people forget the date...How silly. Maybe there's something about informality that attracts people. Whatever...That's what I'll do.

We'll put the babies down to bed and drink wine and practice the lost art of karaoke and tease each other mercilessly...We seem to be at our best when we're entertaining. And who wouldn't be when filled with good conversation and good food? Mmmm, ribs. 24th it is.

Talked to my friend Tiffany yesterday evening...The woman is insane. She's got more guys lined up than a strip club opening and she still isn't happy. I tell her I am dating vicariously through her (what is more fun than being young and single, be-bopping about the clubs and whatnot?). She always laughs and tells me SHE is jealous of ME. To have the man, the family, the home life...How funny that *cliche alert* the grass always looks greener on the other side. Of course I'm happy with where I am, I just think, how fun! And she looks at her life and thinks, how irritating! I just want to be settled down. So there we are. The Great American Stand-Off. We need a reality tv crew to follow us around and document this bizarre twenty-something angst, including our chats late into the night where, God forbid, we start laughing and may or may not end up peeing our pants. Ahhh, just like the old days. At least I can say I have holdover pregnancy incontinence. Don't know what her excuse is. Tiff, you know I love you dearly.

So today is the last day of school for Alden...Report card time! I used to dread this time because if my parents deemed my grades unworthy of a summer off, they would just ground my ass for the whole 2 months. Its so hard to find that balance, somewhere between not making the mistakes our parents made and the Cleavers. Somewhere in the middle is that ideal childhood, the one NO ONE you know had. We're trying our damndest here, cut us some slack, kiddos.

Well I'm off to check out other blogs. Will my blog be wildly successful, a runaway hit (Coming to a link near you!) or are 25,000 other bored working mothers rambling exactly the way I am? Methinks the latter. Have a wonderful day, faithful readers (ha) and I'd like to take this opportunity to raise my coffee cup and toast the arrival of summer! Wish us straight A's.

Good morning! Welcome to my very first blog entry. I am at a time in my life where I've realized a) I feel a burning need to WRITE and b) everything that's anything is online anymore, so why not start here? Pen and paper seem so...Archaic. Even typing in a word processor format leaves much to be desired. I don't claim to be the most tech-savvy person out there, so I Googled "blog" and here I am. Now I feel so...Interactive. SaWEET.

I've wanted to write...Forever, it seems. And have been brainstorming for years now. I'll get my story line together...Any day now. And then I realized...I have characters! There is my significant other, soon-to-be fiance (fiancee?) any...day...now. Then there is his son, who resides with us, Alden. Also doing their part to fill up our tiny house in the city are my sons, 3-yr-old Spencer and almost-4-month-old Julian. We make for a ragtag clan, the five of us...Ooo, what was that show? Party of Five. Shoot, I should have titled my blog that. Damn. Yes, I swear, no, not in front of my kids...I have this crazy idea that I can be both a mother and a person with her own identity. A swearing, blogging, neo-hippie momma. Stand back.

So here it is, my first entry. Once I hit "publish post," is there any way to take it back I wonder? I hope this is the first of many entries...I feel I have so much to share. The daily antics of my children, my work (think Office Space), and of course a dramatic look at the inner workings of one male brain...My significant other, who, God love him, can be the most confounding creature. Stay tuned...