Countdown to the divorce-abration!

Remember how I mentioned what a lucky grrrl I am? I have not even begun to explain the many blessings that are a part of my every day. Yes, I am including my parents.

God love them for turning the TV volume up to 47 and getting a little nervous about which space to pull into in a ginormous, empty parking lot, they have supported us through my divorce in many more ways than I could ever completely list. My dad went to every single court date and attorney meeting with me and has pulled out the DSM IV to really dig into our own psychological diagnoses. My mom has spent countless hours debating with me about what I should do with my wedding dress, whether I should respond to upsetting text messages, and how in the world I am going to channel a Heidi Klum-Seal vibe into my next marriage. They've lent me a car for a year. A year, friends. When it was all finally finally FINALLY final, we went out for ribs and champagne toasts. The waitress thought we were crazy. We felt giddy.

Now, we are taking our celebration up a notch. My parents are generously throwing me a divorce party this weekend, partly to help me gather together some of my favorite ladies to cheers to the new life and partly because I am finally bucking up and buying their damn car.

The party will be for ladies only, which caused my dad to only look up once over his crossword puzzle and say how disappointed he was not to get a mani-pedi at the nail bar my mom booked (cue the goatee-framed smirk). The idea was all my mom's and it will have her stamp on it -- pretty, patterned paper plates and a guest list of very sassy women.

We will be getting our nails done, sipping more champagne and delighting in my divorce. I have no idea where the night will lead, but I know it's going to be fabulous. And I will definitely be wearing my wedding tiara, feed myself (cup)cakes (none of that frosting smearing bullshit this time around either), and have a raucous little reception with my grrrls.

Who knows? It might even inspire me to crack open the never-been-used china and crystal and have a divorce dinner party next.

Chime in: Any ideas for the divorce-abration?

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Ohhh, this boy

I didn't share too many details of my birthday, in part because some semblance of intimacy is good (it's OK to laugh, especially since I've cyber-flashed you all so many times). And in part because I was so swept up in my time with my son that I just wanted to be in the moment. Now, as I look back on the photos from that day, I am more overwhelmed than I was even then.

This kid, with his winks and his determination about what kind of gift he would get me, is just so fully himself.

Those hours that we spent at the Real Pirates exhibit at the Field Museum were so fun. I knelt down in front of the displays and read the story of the sunken slave and pirate ship to him and he leaned into me, listening raptly to every single word. He played tour guide through the mummy and dinosaur exhibits, talking and talking and talking about characteristics of plant eaters versus meat eaters and asking questions about which sarcophagus held which corpse. It was, in all of its inquisitiveness, so fun.

But nothing beat lunch, sitting in our favorite spot so we could see Sue. We went back over each of the rooms and compared favorite parts. Then I pulled out my camera and caught these faces, looks that I see many times a day but speak so much more to me because they were taken on that day.

It's not all perfection and buttercream icing. But on this day, it was as good as it gets. It was as he is and as I am and as we are together. This is the quintessential Lil E at four. 

(See the pics after the jump.)

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Lil E explains: The swine flu

I spent the day in swine flu hell. Of course, of course...it could have been a lot more hellish. I was just researching and writing about it. All the live-long day. Since I'd much rather write about periods, boobs and Britney's latest conquest over sugar, it was almost as bad as going on and on about pharmaceutical recalls or flat abs. Regardless, there I was, sitting at my desk with the CDC reports on pigs all day. I am pretty sure I developed a mild cough and fatigue just doing that.

My day reminded me of my brother, not because he is a big old bacon lover, but because he's a reformed vegetarian who now eats chicken but has never eaten pork. Why? Because, as he has always and will probably forevermore says, "I don't dig on swine."

Today, as I updated the confirmed cases count, I wasn't either.

Given the school Lil E goes to and the thoroughness of his teacher and the curiosity he has for all the things I blog about (and why that doesn't include a young Obi Wan or pod racing), I wasn't surprised that he was already well-informed on swine flu by the time I explained to him that is what I spent the day writing about for work.

"Yeah," he nodded knowingly at me, "I know, I know allllllll about swine flu. It's a sickness that means you have to really wash your hands, ESPECIALLY down in the cracks."

So, yes. The four-year old got it. In all the sort of squeaky clean crevices And later, when I teased him about how dirty his hands were after t-ball practice, I told him we didn't want any swine flu hanging out under his nails.

"Mommy," he said defiantly but smiling, "this isn't how swine flu works!"

I asked him to explain how it does work and here's what the kid had to say.

"Swine flu happens when a leeeeetle pig sneaks into your house and snuggles up to you in your bed when you sleeping. And the pig has a leeeeeeetle cough and ACHOO! ACHOO!, the piggy sneezes on you and then POW!, you get the swine flu."

And then there is a pause. The pause that would be silent except for wheels turning inside the brain of a precocious preschooler. I quietly unbuckled the car seat, keeping my eyes on him, trying not to smile as I wait...wait...waited for it.

"Orrrr, the piggy could just poot it up all stinky and you smell it and POW!, you get the swine flu by smelling all that stinkiness."

And there it was. The scent of bacon? The pungence of pork? Whatever it was, it was too much immersion. I was still trying not to smile. And so not digging on swine. Right down to the cracks.

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