I was going to liken reading to a gateway drug but I didn't know how. It's not like you start with novels and end up homeless witth encyclopedias.

I was thinking back to when I was single, and how afraid I was of always being alone. Being alone in the now meant I was going to die alone down the road.

Alone was nice in small sips, but generally feared. Now I long for huge gulps of alone. I guzzle it when I can.

I’ve been reading a lot lately, which is good and bad.

Good, in that curling up in a big chair with a book is one of my favorite things in life. And I had set reading aside for a long, long time. It's so easy to let it drop from the priority list. Because there are so many things to DO, and if you're reading, it doesn't seem like you're doing anything.

You know what I mean?

Bad in that my husband sometimes feels ignored – mainly because I am ignoring him - plus I personally am more interested in reading than preparing or eating dinner. But I can’t exactly read while Jordan is playing because believe me, I have tried. Whatever Mama is holding that diverts her interest from him is to be targeted, and if possible, absconded with.

I thought the Kindle, being grey and without flashing lights, might be subtle enough for me to get a little reading in here and there. Not a chance. He knows where my attention is, even if he’s on the floor next to me playing with blocks.

So, I start the reading after he goes to sleep, and then Nick comes home and I’m still reading and sometimes he wants to chat and I want to read. Sometimes I put down the book and spend some quality time with him. And sometimes I try to engage while still sort of reading, which satisfies nobody. Sometimes he has work to do, and so we are both in the same space, doing our own things, and it works out nicely.

Monday I was in a hell of a mood, and when Nick called on his way home, I didn’t even give him a chance to ask what I thought about dinner. I said, “I’m sitting in the red chair. I’m eating popcorn and reading a book and drinking wine. It is exactly what I want to be doing.”

He had empanadas on the way home. He later commented that I was difficult to interact with that evening. Perhaps because I did not want to be interacted with.

I cannot save the reading until we are going to sleep. I am dead tired when it’s bedtime. And anyway, I could be compulsively gambling or having Internet sex instead so really, in the scheme, this is mild.

Actually, I’m not sure why I’m justifying. I suppose because doing something just for yourself, when there are chores you could be doing (because when are there not chores you should be doing?), seems so very indulgent. And when you don’t see a lot of your spouse during the week, it seems like you should just want to drop everything when he comes in the door.

But how often do you get to be alone? Like, all alone? Do you miss it?

Pockets are key. Although I always feel like I should have something intriguing in them. Don't you think?

It is so very rare that I go to work in an outfit that I like, head to toe, and one that I feel good in.

Most work days, I've realized, I wear some version of the same thing. Black, grey, or khaki pants. A T-shirt and cardigan or sweater set. Material varies with the season. Boots or sandals, depending on the season.

Sometimes it's a new sweater. Or shirt. Or pants. But they're practically indistinguishable from the old ones.

Usually I look presentable. And, with the exception of some oatmeal blobs or other Jordan-breakfast detritus, I'm typically clean. So there's that.

I used to expend outfit energy when I went out in the evening. And I went ohttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifut a lot. So I would wear my fun clothes, think about accessorizing, really make an effort to look attractive.

Except, of course, for this one terrible date, where I was clearly trying to look less attractive because I was wearing my glasses, and anyway, why didn't I just go ahead and tell him what else was wrong with me? (Asshole.)

But we rarely go out. We stay home in comfy clothes. And the end result is, I rarely feel like I look remotely attractive.

I look dressed. But only because I'm not naked. I never look like I'm dressed well.Which is why I totally had to document today. Because it is spring! And I feel great in my outfit! I am wearing one of the pretty dresses from my Target spree! And super cute high-heel sandals. I am tall! And nicely dressed! This makes me happy!

OK, yes, I look totally weird when I take my own picture, but I really wanted to show you the cool detail on my new dress. Also, and even better, it has pockets!

Of course you encourage your child to be himself and feel good about it except sometimes you want to yell JUST STOP BEING SO...SO...YOU

There's this bizarro parental amnesia that happens to me every night while I'm asleep and every day while I'm at the office.

I wake up excited to see him. And I go home excited to see him. At the end of the workday, I can't wait to get home and see my boy. I can't wait to see his sweet little face, to kiss his chubby cheeks.

Somehow, in my mind, it's all more sparkles and puppies and rainbows than it actually is in real life. Because toddlers are opinionated and nay-saying and opposite-direction-running. And they will try your last nerve.

But I'll be damned if I don't fall asleep thinking how cute he is and hurry out of work all excited to swoop him up and give him a big kiss.

I met Betty and the boy in the park last night after work.

I arrived and my mom said that they'd lost his new hat. We successfully owned it for approximately four days. He likes to take it off and throw it out of the stroller. Nick had found it in Rock Creek the day before, but yesterday, no luck.

So, I don't know if you've ever tried to do anything systematic like search for a hat along a specific path with a toddler. If you have you know that it's kind of impossible in that you say, "Let's go this way!" And your toddler response by running the opposite direction.

When you run after him and pick him up, he might kick and scream, yelling, "Aaaambulance!"

Because of course, every siren to him is a potential ambulance, and ambulances are to be sought out. And if DC is full of anything, it's sirens.

Plus the shrieking of "Ambulance!" really means "PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN, WOMAN! I'M RUNNING AFTER SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT."

He punctuates it all with the flailing leg kickkickkick!

Our entire walk home was like this. Until we spotted the number code lock thing on the fence of an apartment building.

"Ooooh! What's that?"

"A lock."

"PHONE!"

"That's not a phone, honey. It's a lock."

"PHONE! Hello?" He proceeded to press numbers, repeating hello every few seconds.

This went on for a good 10 minutes. Until it was really really time to go home. At which point he tried to escape into the shrubbery, giggling gleefully.

Finally, kicking and screaming, I carried him home, up the steps, in the door. And left him with Betty, poor woman, while I went back to look for the hat.

As soon as I was out the door, I called Nick.

"Hello?"

I hissed at him through clenched teeth.

"I CANNOT STAND YOUR SON HE IS MAKING ME CRAZY AND I JUST CAN'T STAND HIM RIGHT NOW." (He's always HIS son when he's driving me crazy. Also, when I am very worked up punctuation seems superfluous.)

"I'm sorry, honey."

"I AM VERY TIRED AND HE MAKES ME TIRED AND ALL OF THIS IS MAKING ME EVEN MORE TIRED AND WHERE IS HIS FUCKING HAT?"

"What is he doing?"

"HE'S BEING HIMSELF."

Spending more deliberately

When you need to cut your expenses, what do you do?

Basically, I'm trying to spend less on random shit so I have more to put towards some specific things. And be more mindful and deliberate about how I spend.

We make enough to cover our monthly expenses. But we have some large extra expenses lately, and what I want to do is allocate more of our monthly money rather than our savings towards them.

Because as it is, after putting towards retirement, we spend what we make. This is OK, in that we're both very responsible, and neither of us has ever outspent what we've earned.

But I know it's possible for us to take out of one pocket to put into the other, which is my goal here.

I know that we buy things we don't need, and spend money in unnecessary ways.

There are some things that aren't needs that aren't negotiable, so I'm considering them needs. Like, I can happily eat a peanut butter sandwich for lunch every day - and pretty much do - but Nick would be really unhappy if he did that, and so for him, buying lunch every office day is a need. Even though technically it's not a need.

So.

I was reading about money-saving strategies, and this was one of them: take yourself off email lists from stores. Then you're not confronted daily and weekly with ooh, new shoes! and 20% off today only! kinds of things.

And I, as you know, I am one to click! And feel like I MUST HAVE whatever it is! Because look, free shipping!

I've been unsubscribing from email lists like a fiend. I said buh-bye, Old Navy. Buh-bye, Gap. And Ann Taylor. And Nine West. And Children's Place. And and and and and.

Now that I've started, I realize how many of these emails I get. It's kind of astounding. They're nearly all clothing or shoes, for Jordan or for me. And I can always justify a purchase for Jordan. And shoes. I'm really good at justifying shoes.

Hell, I'm really good at justifying whatever I reallyreally want.

So I am trying to limit what I buy to things we need. Or a must-have kind of thing. Not a "must have because it's 30% off"or "ohh, but it's orange!" No.

I just started this yesterday. And not being math-y or spreadsheet-y, it's not my strength. I've always stayed within my limit, but I've never tried to be particularly deliberate in allocations.

I'm kind of curious to see how this goes.

Happy Mother's Day!

So, I always think that my life lacks glamor and intrigue and that I should seek them out.

And then, when given an activity option, like when Nick asked what I might like to do for Mother's Day, I choose IKEA. To get a play mat and shelves for Jordan's room.

I wasn't being self-abnegating. It was genuinely what I wanted to do.

In other words, it's my own damn fault I lead such a prosaic existence.

Nick gets all clenchy when you mention IKEA so he offered to watch the boy while I went. And I will tell you that I strolled around all by myself like I hadn't a care in the world, and I might be shopping at Armani instead of this huge-horrible-take-over-the-world retailer, and it was so very nice.

(I bought some lingonberry jam to feel more European. And who says College Park isn't exotic, anyway?)

Then I rounded a corner and a father was dropping his son onto one of the display beds, and his son was giggling wildly.

And immediately, I needed to go home. To hug the boy who made me a mama.

I hope you've spent the day exactly as you've wanted. Hug your mama if you can, hug your baby, and give yourself a huge hug from me.

Happy Mother's Day!

Lisa