Mom Icon Survey to the Right...

Alright. Here are the suggestions from you all on a possible maternal deity (from the 70s mind you) for personal worship. Let me know what you think. Feel free to explain your answers in the comments section. And in the meantime, here's a photo of me at my maternal best and Misho appearing rather freaked out by it. As you can see, I need a protege.

The Night That Made Misho Smile...

Ever seen a look of satisfaction quite like that before? Thank you Obama for helping us catch the elusive Big Foot!

I'm so happy I could squeal. And have been for the last 24 hours. It's starting to hurt.

Despite the look of happiness and balance above, little guy is still on a rather rigorous sleep strike. I have easily aged 5 years since this weekend. It appears that Mr. M does not like it when I tend to my own affairs such as peeing, tooth brushing, showering, sleeping, breathing, or eating the occasional piece of stale bread. I feel like a hostage with Stockholm syndrome. I've chosen to fall in love with my captor to avoid the deep rooted madness that is hovering around my head like a horse fly. Seriously, I never thought I could be brought to the brink of crazy quite like this. I've brought in reinforcements; Nonnie is here and loaded Mr. M up in the carriage and they're off to Guam or somewhere near there. In the meantime, I'm slipping in a quick blog entry, and checking in on poor Ellen Degeneres who must be so friggin pissed that California has proven itself so backward and bigoted. I mean the other half of California that I never met when growing up there. Cruel and unnecessary.

In the meantime, cheers to my sweet sweet crush Obama and a year where I don't feel the urge to say I'm Canadian to seatmates on international flights.

Shelby

vote, do it, or I'll be angry

...and while we're at it, vote for the guy I want. The Big O. He is splendiforous. He's a mighty mighty man, whose hand I have had the pleasure to shake. I could go on, but I am going on very little sleep and sanity so my words are few and probably in the wrong order. Mr. M regressed a bit. One too many doctors visits with an unfortunate chest xray. Little M is fine, but he's got a bout of the latent TB. Nothing horrible - no trips to Tuscon wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket for recovery. But still, a bit anxiety producing. Especially for him. It's 1am and I just got him to sleep...and he had one eye on me the whole time.

I have some lovely blog entries lined up but finding the key board in my sleep deprived state is challenging.

For now, here is a random photo of the boys getting their music on. The Jam to be precise.

This Demeans Us Both...(the search for a smile and the ultimate mother icon)

I've heard the call for more photos! Here's our man dressed in his reptilian finest, with a look that does not hide his opinion of the whole affair. Finding photos of Misho smiles is like searching for Big Foot. I swear to god they exist (he does it often!), others have seen it, but some said it was another baby in a Misho suit (the zipper was exposed).

So in the meantime, I will start sharing the plethora of sour faces that we've captured on film, and there are a number of them.

The Transition of Misho is going well. Well...well and then not so well at times. This poor little one has been dropped into a cold bucket of new smells, sounds, and sights. My family is loud. If any of you are reading this, don't deny it - most family affairs are boistrous events where you have to aggressively vocalize to get into the game. Misho was used to very sweet smelling, sweet talking, respectful nannies who cooed lovingly at him at low volume. Sometimes he looks at us like we're a bunch of uncivilized beasts. I think I actually heard him refer to us as "white trash", but then again it could have just been a gurgle.

Transitioning into motherhood is another to-do all together. Sometimes, I'm sweet smiles, kisses, and lollipops, ready to hold my son for hours while I shower him with smooches and nibbles. Other times, I'm hiding in the closet, rocking back and forth while he launches into his third hour of crying, thinking about when a respectable time would be for the first glass of wine.

I'm looking for a mom icon, a muse, a figure of divine motherhood that I can emulate and pray to. Now, before we start mentioning mother figures of depth (Hindu gods, unmentionable actresses who are way too friggin fertile), I'm going back to the time and source that makes me most comfortable - TV moms from the 70s.

Here's who I'm working on so far:

Anne Romano - aka Bonnie Franklin (One Day at a Time) - single mother extraordinaire from One Day at a Time - I'm not single but this little lady had pluck and a fine looking bowl bob.

Carol Brady - aka Florence Henderson (The Brady Bunch) - kind of an obvious pick, but any woman who could smile incessantly around 6 children and invent the mullet is someone to look up to.

Florida Evans -aka Estelle Rolle (Good Times) polyester pantsuits and a no nonsense attitude. Florida is currently in the lead in my book.

So my friends, help me find my diety of motherhood. Mama needs a mentor. And I promise that once chosen, I will post a picture of me dressed as this new muse; hair, attitude, and all. Leave your suggestions - I'll tally up the results and set out a poll.

In the meantime, please help the mother of this lost little boy find some direction...

Gnomes and such in Ethiopia

Most of you know about my often debilitating fear of gnomes. I believe gnomes are tiny, nasty little creatures that run havoc with our lives (refer to entries of July and August 2008). Well, just imagine what could have been running through my mind when I ran across a virtual "gnome-fest" at the Sheraton in Addis Ababa. I thought for sure the adoption would have been halted and we would have been arrested by the Ethiopian authorities for some unknown reason. Luckily, nothing of the sort happen, but I was able to capture the pure gnome magic on film. I've also added a few shots of random Ethiopian priests we found tucked away in the church caves of Lalibela. I believe they were the antidote to what could have been a unmitigated gnome-generated disaster. Enjoy.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Zombie Baby

Mr M is demonstrating some weird ass behavior. It's all very fishy. I found a post it in his onsie with my blog password, and some notes jotted in Amharic. There may be some sort of conspiracy going on. He's really jet lagged, so take what he puts out there with a grain of salt.

Additionally, he has recently taken to sucking, eating, or devouring my face. I'm thinking he does this with love, but there is a look in his eye that says, "hey lady, I could take off your cheek in one bite." He's either so in love with me that he could ingest me whole OR....he's a zombie baby. David is banking on the latter.

Caught in action. It starts off as an innocent cuddle, and then....well...please see below (not for the faint of heart). By the way, this is me with absolutely no sleep, so do not send this to Perez Hilton for commentary about my lack of personal care & style.

A letter from Mishamo Inc.

Dear Shareholders (and those with vested interest in Mishamo Incorporated),

This open letter will provide an update on the current state of affairs for the company of Mishamo Inc. As with the rest of the US economy, our portfolio has entered a bearish market of intense fluctuations and seemingly unexplainable changes. For instance, I, as CEO of Mishamo Inc., at one time lived in a comfortable room with 6 or so other CEO's who were fed, diapered, and bathed on a regimented and predictable schedule. This schedule has been abruptly altered, against my will. It appears that I have been victim of a bloodless corporate takeover by two new board members, and abruptly taken to a new headquarters in a land that I know not much about. The aforementioned schedule seems to have been completely disregarded and no longer applies to my clock and parameters of time. Additionally, I'm often required to pose for repeated photos with these said board memebers; individuals that I do not know, nor do I know if they have any vested interested in my work or the interests of the company. I often have strong, vocal opinions, and wish to share these opinions with those who I believe should hear them. I am now often shushed, repeatedly, and bounced around in a swaying and/or up and down like motion, like this will change my perspective or create some sort of comfort and stability in this time of great flux. Moreover, my daily meals have taken on a duller and blander taste and texture. Gone are the days of spice and pungency; replaced with gruel that supposedly is good for the lining of my stomach. I strongly feel this should be my decision, and yet, I am silenced.

I write to you, not for pity, but to alert you to the intense shake up of the basic foundation of the company. I implore you to check in repeatedly to assure that these new drivers of the organization have my best interests at heart, and understand that I still do and will forever lead this company into glory. I am more than willing to adjust to change - because as someone I never read once wrote: if you do not change, you will die (or something like that). I for one, want to thrive. So, with your help and support of the new regime, I feel that this may, in the end, be a win-win situation. Only time will tell. In the meantime, I refer to the photo below:



Yours in service,
Mishamo French Pehlke, CEO
Mishamo Incorporated