Sometimes I’m so wrapped up in dooce.com that anything I had to say before checking out the pictures of the month-old frog baby is suddenly long gone from consciousness. I want to do a lot of things in my life- in fact, the Peace Corps suddenly decided to knock on my door again- but one of them is have children.

Now I consider myself to be a rather evolved woman- just tonight I smacked my friend Jon when he said that one needed estrogen in her system to enjoy “Girl With a Pearl Earring”. I had to point out that I was the one who declared the movie a “yawn fest” even before the rollups began. I am no clothes horse, no shoe hound, and I’ve only read the first “Flowers in the Attic” book and I was like 13 at the time. I am single because I (gasp!) want to be and I am cavalier where many women are precious. But I see a mom playing with her little boy at Jamba Juice, or a mom-to-be with a swollen tummy and dewy skin, or a mom in a hospital with five children constantly checking up on her and I know that one of the things I want to do in my life is have kids. I’m not saying tomorrow or anything, just eventually. I want to have babies and I want them to turn into children and then into adults. I don’t really care if it’s instinctual or social or anything else over which I have no control. I just want it to happen. Someday. Clearly not soon, but soon-ish. Soon on a glacial scale.

That being said, it’s bedtime.

Well, geeze, I never thought I’d have to keep up with Sean as far as sheer volume is concerned. But tonight’s blog is going to mercifully short, as I must be up in less than seven hours to work out, make breffast, and get to the church on time.

I left my mom two hours ago in the care of an angry, bitter nurse who decided to rip off my mom’s BP monitor because he “want(ed) that machine”. No matter that my mom’s BP has been terrifyingly low on my watch, and no matter that the decided to give her her BP meds even though she lost a lot of blood during surgery. Hello, duh, do the math, folks. But all in all, she’s had really wonderful nurses and interns and doctors so I guess I can’t begrudge one angry nurse on the graveyard shift. Actually, I do begrudge him. I told mom to use the “F” word as much as she wanted if he started treating her badly. I know how she likes to swear when people are stupid.

It felt ridiculous to be driving home to Napa with my mom in the hospital three more days, but what else can I do. I have to ride out this week at work and then turn around Monday and explain to my new job that they need to give me the job they promised me rather than the one they’ve decided to lay on me at the last second. But that’s a whole nother story.

I’m exhausted and I miss my cat and I’m broke and my mom is sleeping in a crowded, shared room in a hospital two hours away. But, y’know, spending a day in a hospital reminds me that my life is pretty sweet. It’s hard to even write that, but it’s clearly the truth.