One good thing about the return of humidity this weekend: it makes Amelia’s hair curl.

Here are a few things that have gotten my proverbial britches in a wad lately:

Clients standing me up for a conference call with nary a warning. I know these guys are important muckety mucks, but I know one of them has a Blackberry. Just send an SOS message if you’re stuck in an unexpected all-day meeting, something along the lines of, “Sorry, must reschedule.” I feel so rejected.

Rude executive assistants who could care less that you have a life and children outside of work. (Not at my company, which is extremely accomodating to parents, but at a client’s.)

And, in a word, spam. My blog has been hit with an amazing amount of comment spam this week, starting on Mother’s Day. Thanks to seeing the program Jennifer at Spaghetti Harvest was using, I downloaded Spam Karma, a donationware program which has been taking a bite out of comment spam since I installed it. So far it’s worked without a hitch and you may want to check it out if you use WordPress for your blog.

And that is it. I’ve got my anti-pukey mojo turned on high, so I’m going to enjoy my day off!

Words that strike fear in the bravest of parents: “There’s a really bad stomach virus going around daycare.”

So far, I am the only one in our house who has managed to outfox the nasty pukey bug. The hubby had it Tuesday. I felt a little queasy yesterday and Tuesday, but I’m OK, so far. Caitlin had it yesterday, but bounced right back. And I mean bounced right back. With sass. Her sass button seems to be stuck in the on position. One minute she was throwing up in the yard (barely made it out of the car) and a few hours later she was riding her tricycle. Really. And today she is super sassy. At one point she threw a fit because I wouldn’t let her ride her tricycle on the back patio naked. (Just ask Mrs. Flinger as she and I were attempting to “chat.”) Amelia woke up with Mount Vesuvius diaper spewage up one side and down the other, but no vomiting. And now my poor mother-in-law has the bug.

I’m going in to the office at 4 to do a phone interview. And maybe drink a beer if I can sneak one in.

I saw her in the bread aisle as I wheeled back through the meat department to pick up the turkey dogs I had forgotten on round one of the grocery store circuit. She was one of the career women I fastidiously kept up with at my first bonafide professional job out of college. A few years older than me, she was a bit higher up on the corporate food chain in a similar department. She was the epitomy of the young successful career woman. She wore power suits. She had long flowing hair. She drove a sleek black luxury car. As I progressed in my career and moved on to another company I would run into her at professional development luncheons and after hours mixers and we would chat informally about work and then later work and kids as we munched on shrimp and sipped Chardonnay. Then I had Amelia and although my career has not necessarily been shoved to the back burner, I’ve cut back on my hours and I no longer feel compelled to keep up with the extracurricular shmoozing and networking that I once deemed important. My lunch calendar is now more likely to be filled with quick trips to Tarjay or grabbing a sandwich with a friend or the hubby. And after hours business receptions? My new “clients” really dig apple juice and animal crackers. So when I saw my peer looking quite removed from the corporate scene, surrounded by loaves of bread and pushing her child in a shopping cart on a Monday afternoon, my first thought was that her child, like mine, must be sick or perhaps she’s now a stay at home mom. But it was kind of nice to see her in jeans and a buttondown shirt and not slingbacks and a tailored suit. I was almost ready to walk over and say hello after all these years but Amelia started fussing and trying to eat my grocery list, her patience level plummeting after being a trooper at both the pediatrician’s and the grocery. That and the fact that I remembered the lima bean size zit on my chin prompted me to make a bee line toward the checkout aisle.

Yesterday Caitlin moved to the 4-year-olds’ classroom at daycare. Although she knows the teacher very well and sees the 4-year-olds on the playground (the 3s and 4s wreak havoc on the same turf), she was super clingy and seemed upset to not go to “her classroom.” She told me several times last night that she didn’t want to “be big.” Her new teacher was wonderful, though, and we took a tour of her new classroom and I got to see the all-important cubby for her artwork. I stayed a few minutes longer than usual yesterday, and when I left the teacher was stroking Caitlin’s hair and talking to her. Although Caitlin won’t be 4 until June they had an opening in the pre-K classroom and her teachers and the director felt she was definitely ready to be with the older kids as she was getting bored with some of the activities and she is soaking up Spanish like a sponge (Dora has some redeeming educational value!) Originally she was supposed to make the move in August, so when I found out last week that she’d be moving up I felt a rush of mixed emotions. This is Caitlin’s last daycare classroom before the big move to kindergarten in a a little over a year. Between that and her upcoming birthday and Amelia finally taking some record-breaking unassisted steps, I’ve been a little emotional to the point of crying over the silliest things. Really, if I’m crying over Caitlin moving up at daycare, what am I going to be like when she starts “real” school…when she goes off to college…when she gets married? I think that’s one of the toughest things about parenting. Learning to let your children grow and learning to let them go. I guess I need to find a good, reliable waterproof mascara.

Caitlin (upon seeing me step out of the shower yesterday):

“Mommy, I like your boobies. They’re big.”

Of course this is the same girl who this morning, while putting on “makeup” (Chapstick) in the car, said “You want makeup mommy? You need some!”

My Mama’s Beautiful Iris

Originally uploaded by blondemom.

I thought I’d share a photo of this beautiful Iris from my mama’s front yard. She has the Midas touch when it comes to flowers. She is a class act and never fails to tell her children and grandchildren how much she loves us and how proud she is of us.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful moms in my family…my mom, mother-in-law, sisters, and sister-in-law…but most of all to my mama, who has been encouraging me, listening to me, laughing with me, and praying for me for 36 years!