I was caught totally unaware that it was De-lurking Week. This is the week for all of you who read this, but don’t normally chime in to say hi and let me know you exist. If I had as many comments as I do visitors, I’d have over a hundred comments a day.

I’m not asking for anything too crazy – if you’re shy, a simple hello works fine. If you want to tell me a little more about yourself, go for it. And if you want to tell me what you’d like to see me write about, I’d be happy for the suggestions. See? All friendly and happy and non-threatening.

Tomorrow I’m going out of town for the weekend. Without Cordelia. I can’t decide if I want to cheer or cry. It’s a long weekend of sleeping in, going to the bathroom without an audience, eating meals without sharing, and shopping leisurely. But it’s also a weekend without that smiling face, those playful curls, that warm little body sitting on my lap, and the constant exclamations of “Hi, mommy!” She would come with me, but we all remember how traveling to Chicago went last year.

So I will be leaving her at home, and hoping that she will manage without me and won’t miss me too much. And while I will revel in sleeping past 6:30am each morning, I will still be calling at least twice a day to talk to her on the phone.

Since I’m still getting over the new year’s ick, I think it’s time for a meme. Kate tagged me to come up with five things you don’t already know about me. I’ve done this once before, and I can’t even remember what I wrote, so I guess this time I’d better dig deep to think up some juicy tidbits to make it worth reading.

Five Things You Didn’t Know About Me (pre-mommy days):

1. I’ve been “kidnapped” once in my life, and nearly kidnapped a second time. The first time wasn’t technically a kidnapping, since it was by my father, while my parents were still married, but just after mom asked for a divorce. I was a year old, so of course I don’t remember any of it, and the entire ordeal lasted a day or two. The second time was when I was eight, I think, and it was a stranger trying to kidnap me as I walked to my babysitter’s house from the community pool. It was a very scary experience, and changed the way I thought about people. I can tell the story one of these days, if you’d like.

2. I am an uber klutz. In fifth grade, I broke my arm because I was late for my patrol stop. Fifth graders were allowed to serve as crossing guards for the other kids, and that morning I was running a little late, so I took off running for my assigned intersection, carrying my pole with the little crosswalk flag on the end. Back then, the poles were long poles – I’m one of the reasons the State of Ohio shortened the poles. As I was running, somehow the pole got caught up in my legs, and I crashed down onto the sidewalk face-first, with my very heavy bookbag falling forward onto my head and left arm. My mom didn’t think I was hurt, but took me to the hospital just to be sure. Turns out, my arm was broken, and I had to go back to class that day and tell the entire class how I broke my arm. It was humiliating.

3. I was clipped by a British billy-club once. I spent a summer in England going to school, and it happened to be the same summer for the Euro ’96 soccer tournament. Arguably, the most famous game of that summer was England vs. Scotland. It was the first time they had played each other in many, many years, and my friends and I watched the game at the local pub in London. After Scotland lost, there were reports that the Scots fans were gathering in Trafalgar Square and rioting, so of course I grabbed my camera and decided to go be a part of the action, just for fun. (Note: my friends thought me crazy, and did not tag along. They were the smart ones.)

When I got to the square, it was a sea of people in kilts and tartans, many drunk, a few belligerent, but most in a cheerful mood as they climbed onto Nelson’s monument, held up the Scottish flag and sang songs (I have great pics of this, but they’re not scanned yet). Then the police arrived in riot gear, and things turned ugly. By that point, the police had surrounded the square, and no one was allowed in or out, so I was trapped with them. A few of the belligerent ones started throwing beer bottles at the cops, and in return the police would occasionally rush the crowd in a line, hitting everyone they could. I didn’t run fast enough one of the times, and was barely hit in the back by one of their clubs. Not hard enough to do damage, but it did sting.

4. The song Summer Nights from Grease caused me to get into a car accident once. Aaron and I were dating at the time, and we really enjoyed singing duets from musicals while in the car for long drives. When this song came on, we both really got into singing the parts, and so right at the best part of the song (when all the background singers are singing along as well), neither of us noticed the car in front of us suddenly stop to turn left until it was too late. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, which prevented major damage, but we still hit the car with a solid thump. Thankfully, there was no visible damage, and insurance did not need to be notified.

5. The very first time I ever got drunk was not by choice. I was 16, and a friend was throwing a New Year’s Eve party, with her parents gone for the night. I had gone to the bathroom while she and my other friends were mixing up the punch, and so I didn’t see them pour all of the alcohol into the punch. Now, you should know at this point that I really like punch. So as I took a drink from the first glass of the night, I thought it tasted funny and asked them what was in it. They, of course, realized just then that I had never had alcohol before. “Have you ever had pineapple juice,” they asked. “No, not really,” I replied. They convinced me it was the pineapple and other tropical juices I was tasting, and I believed them.

Many, many glasses later, I was drunk, and seriously flirting with a guy over 4 years older than me. And I barely remember that night, save for the pictures everyone took. Nothing scandalous happened – my clothing remained on, and I only got one kiss from the guy, but it certainly took me out of my shy-girl shell. It’s one of only two times in my life when I’ve ever had so much alcohol I didn’t remember everything – the other time is a story for another day.

So, was that interesting enough to keep your attention?

Today is January 5, 2007. Here in Ohio, the normal high for today is 36 degrees F, and the normal low is 21 degrees F. Snow or ice is common at this time of year.

Today’s high? 61 degrees. The low? 52 degrees.

And it’s been like this for weeks. Two days before the New Year, I was driving around without a coat, with the windows down, basking in the sunshine. One day, the local news reported that the high for the day was higher than the daily high for Arizona.

The grass is greening again. The robins are either still here or back from the south, some plants are beginning to bud, and nature herself can’t figure out what season it is.

I have to keep rotating the same outfits in Cordy’s wardrobe because it’s too damn warm for her winter clothes. Had I know we were skipping winter entirely and going straight to spring, I might have bought her less sweaters and fleece pants and more light cottons.

I’m not saying I want a Colorado blizzard or anything, but how about something a little more, well, winter-like? I enjoy a little snow now and then (especially on days when I don’t have to drive in it), and wearing warm sweaters, wrapping up in blankets by the fire and drinking hot chocolate are all part of January to me. I grew up in this area, and this is the warmest year I can remember.

So for those who say there is no such thing as global warming, I say stuff it. I want my winter back.

Nothing like a stomach bug to start off the new year right. After 12 hours of vomiting, and 36 hours of gently convincing my stomach to keep food down and gradually climbing out of bed, the worst is over. I’m down 8 pounds after the whole ordeal (my maternity pants are suddenly falling off of me), which combined with the 3 pounds I’ve lost overall since becoming pregnant means I might be heading for a stern talking to by my OB this month.

Naturally, I hoped to wake up this morning feeling better, and I did, at least as far as my stomach is concerned. But I now seem to have developed a massive head cold overnight. So. not. fair.

Baby #2 seems to have weathered it all OK. I was a bit worried at first – I didn’t really feel any movement at all yesterday or the evening before, but today I felt a few twitches to let me know she’s still OK.

Any real thoughts on resolutions for the new year were pushed out of the way by ponderings of what I did to piss off the gods of health. If I were to come up with any resolutions, they would be to perform more random acts of kindness this year, and be a more upbeat person, all in an effort to refill my karma meter, which has clearly strayed into the red zone judging by what I’ve been dealing with lately.

In the meantime, I must work on breaking my dear, sweet toddler of her newest habit. She’s somehow picked up the word “help” and now, whenever we do something she doesn’t like (such as tell her “no”), she will cry out, “Help! Help!”

While harmlessly annoying at home, this new game is no fun at all when out in public. Like when we’re out shopping, and we walk past the toys without stopping to let her grab them, and she yells “Help! Help!” to everyone passing by.

Or imagine trying to order food at a drive-thru, while your toddler is drowning you out in the backseat, yelling, “Help! Help!” as if she’s being kidnapping. Yeah, that happened today. As I was driving home, I wondered if the drive-thru attendant was copying down my license plate to call the police on me. So if I disappear for a few days, know it was all Cordy’s fault for crying wolf.