Can you believe it’s been a whole year since we gathered our favorite mom bloggers and started this little venture known as Momversation?

Yep, last November 3rd, we launched our site with our very first Momversation episode, “I Love You, But I Hate Your Politics.”

Ah, we were all so young then, weren’t we?

Since our debut, we’ve had a load of awesome things happen!  We were nominated for a Webby.  Our panelists appeared on CNN and Oprah.  Even Regis was talking about Momversation!  Senator Gillibrand answered your questions about health care reform.  Host Nancy O’Dell joined us for a discussion about birth plans.  And poker player extraordinaire Annie Duke talked homework.  And there were about 150 episodes created!

Thanks to our panelists, guest panelists, guest bloggers, and most of all, you, our community!  We’re so glad you are enjoying the Momversation.  Keep giving us your suggestions, and share your memories.  Our Momversation is your Momversation!

It is the only time they have been quiet since they got home, ostensibly to “let me rest” by the fireplace because I still look like a zombie from the crushing fatigue the swine flu left in its wake. Seriously, what the hell? Haven’t I suffered enough? Everyone is sick of this and of me already, can you please let up? I’m doing jumping jacks in my head because I feel GREAT! but I’m falling asleep on my feet like Prince Valium in Spaceballs. How long does my body need to sleep to feel whole? A couple days? A week? Through January? It’s amazing that I get anything done at all, though today I did finally fix the toilet that’s been out of commission for three weeks. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

Anyway, the kids were all hunched around the screen, asking each other what the password hint meant. “‘Oh no?’ That’s a hint? What does it mean?” It means, “Oh, no you don’t, you sneaky little monkeys.” If Mommy wanted you on her work computer while she’s drooling on the arm of the chaise in the kitchen, she wouldn’t have PUT A PASSWORD ON IT.

Jiminy.

I did get lots of compliments on my weight loss from the other moms at school, and a big laugh from Traci, who once told me, “I’m one minor illness away from my target weight.” I love her. I’m not quite there, but am thrilled with the 22 pounds so far, and am going for fifteen more. I’ve got ten days in Thailand coming up in December, baby, I want bikini pictures!

Wow, one month. I’m so excited. My Guy is in Frankfurt this week, then in Shanghai two weeks from now, and then we take off for Bangkok and Phuket two weeks after that.

Tomorrow marks three months since we met, but it feels like five or six years. We’ve started referring to different events in Earth Time and Our Time. There is some kind of exponential relationship between the two, but we can’t nail it down. So far it’s been a lot like Steve Martin Time in The Jerk.

[Speaking to Marie in bed while she sleeps]
Navin R. Johnson: I know we’ve only known each other four weeks and three days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days. And the third day seemed like a week again and the fourth day seemed like eight days. And the fifth day you went to see your mother and that seemed just like a day, and then you came back and later on the sixth day, in the evening, when we saw each other, that started seeming like two days, so in the evening it seemed like two days spilling over into the next day and that started seeming like four days, so at the end of the sixth day on into the seventh day, it seemed like a total of five days. And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half. I have it written down, but I can show it to you tomorrow if you want to see it.

People, I believe I have found THE most low-maintenance, hangup-free, down-to-earth, easy-to-be-around, fun-to-talk-to man in the world. And he says the same about me. One of us is a liar, you say. You would be wrong.

Our iTunes playlists are surprisingly similar.

There’s only a one-year age difference so we have all the same cultural references. (My ex was ten years older and my last boyfriend was four years older, just enough to be one whole High School off.)

He lived a long time in Michigan, so he’s got that familiar Midwest twang, softened by his native South Carolina cadence. It gets my attention every time, sounding so familiar to my childhood living school years in Chicago and summers in Ohio and Atlanta. There are so many things that are funny only to those who have lived in the South or the Midwest, and doubly funny if they have lived in a wretchedly cold, big city.

We both have “Leadership Secrets of Attila the Hun” on our night stands.

We have identical parenting styles. Think about that. What are the odds?

We are equally happy sitting at home having cheese and crackers for dinner or going out, and we almost always sit at the bar. I love sitting at the bar.

He makes me coffee.

I never get tired of scratching his head.

We’ve seen all the same movies, so FINALLY someone understands when I throw out obscure references or lines twenty times a day.

I can write well enough to make people feel, and he can speak well enough to have a roomful of people follow him off a cliff.

We are matched intellectually.

We are both totally comfortable being in charge, walking into a room, and instantly sizing it up.

He is not intimidated by me, nor I by him. Not for nothing, but we pack a charismatic wallop. So far we’ve only used it on the kids, but to stunning effect.

There are no secrets between us. None. We actually laughed about this the other night, trying to think up things we haven’t told each other yet. It sounds impossible, but it’s true. We’re going to have to wait for a memory jolt for anything fresh to come up.

If things go sideways, we will most likely fall over laughing. There is no freaking out.

We calm each other, completely. Totally. When he’s away we’re both reaching out for a re-set, to have feathers smoothed. All it takes is hearing a voice, sitting, breathing on the phone, knowing the other is there. We’ve sat and done our email and work that way. Swear.

We’ve each come from traumatic splits with three young children in tow. We know that we are not #1 with each other, we’re somewhere between #7 and #8. The children always come first, and we can reconnect on the days the children are with the other parent.

What? Think we’re idiots? Of course we aligned custody schedules so we have the same weekends free!

Motherlode: Adventures in Parenting: Life as a Depressed Parent
By Lisa Belkin

Over at the Momversation this week, Heather Armstrong of Dooce.com is leading a candid talk about depression. She has been extremely open over the years about the postpartum emotional crash that led her to a psychiatric hospital. Her fellow bloggers on the video — Alice Bradley, of finslippy.com, Mindy Roberts of themommyblog.net and Danny Evans of DadGoneMad.com — have been somewhat less public about their suffering, and their conversation about what Bradley calls “being filled with crushing despair” is a moving one. Read more…

Fact: There is no such thing as “excess” candy to a nine-year-old.

My ex said that when read the email to him, he made one of those loud gulping noises.

“Why would soldiers want a bunch of candy? Wouldn’t they get all wired up and shoot each other?”

“They just like to receive things from kids and families because they’re far away and alone. If I was there I would appreciate it so much.”

“What if I sent you a nice letter and 300 lbs of cilantro? [note: my ex HATES cilantro] You should thank me because you could put it in your gun and shoot it at everybody and it would go in their mouths and they would say, ‘You have found my weakness!’ and they would die.”

It was interesting to watch how this episode was cut. We all talked at length on the raw footage. I think I went on for days. It’s the kind of subject that once you’ve opened it for discussion, it is hard to turn off the spigot. Literally, in my case.

I am very grateful to Danny Evans for leading this one, and of course to Heather Armstrong and Alice Bradley, too, for being so open about their depression and giving us hope that it’s possible to get through to the other side, and perhaps even thrive. Or at least tap-dance because, hey, the kids need feeding and raising and loving, and don’t need to see that movie quite yet. I do hope someday, when they are older, they are able to hear about it, understand it, and come to accept it because we’ve taught them compassion and empathy along with the alphabet and how to put a tape in the VCR.

You’ve heard of the phrase, “depression hurts?”  It’s true.  Beyond emotional symptoms such as guilt, hopelessness, and irritability, depression also has physical symptoms, such as chronic aches, fatigue, and insomnia.  It’s not something one can just “get over.”  It is an illness that can affect every member of a family.  That’s why when depression hurts a person, she need understanding and treatment, not judgment.  Guest Danny Evans of Dad Gone Mad and author of Rage Against the Meshugenah joins Heather Armstrong of Dooce in asking, “How do you overcome depression?”

Have you had episodes of chronic or postpartum depression?  How did you handle it?  What’s your advice for moms and dads going through the illness?  Join the Momversation by commenting in one of our related forums:

• Becoming a parent, losing sanity
• Postpartum depression

Please, Whoever is Messing With My Life, it’s not funny. Cut it out.

The last week has been hazy, with the exception of yesterday’s highly memorable trip to the walk-in clinic for screening, at the end of which I was curled up in a ball, shivering and sobbing. No wonder no one wants the unwashed, uninsured around. By the time they seek medical attention, they’re already a holy mess.

I’m currently holed up at My Guy’s for the duration—he’s quarantined himself here along with me and is working from home—trying to stay comfortable, then warm, then cool, then comfortable, then warm, omg is it hot in here, then where the hell is my sweater, are you insane it’s like the arctic circle in this place.

You get the idea.

The screening came back negative with a sixty to ninety (depending on which study you read) percent margin of error—gotta love those false negatives—but both my children’s pediatrician and the doctor I saw yesterday said that almost all the flus walking in with my symptoms are presumed to be H1N1 and treated accordingly. As in, go home and stay there and don’t touch anything. I’m so relieved that both my and My Guy’s kids are with the other parent this weekend. They can have their normal routine and not have to cancel Halloween along with me.

No, I am not handing out candy this year. And I’m certainly not putting out the huge bowl of Honor System Treats after someone took the ENTIRE BOWL OF CANDY before seven p.m. last year. The kids are still all touchy about that.

They are happily ensconced at Daddy’s, my little cheerleader, Pimp Daddy, and Man Eating Shark. I’m dying to see them in their costumes. Note to self: get photos from ex.

This has been another feature brought to you by the Roberts Family Curse.

I thankyew.

  Annual New York’s Hottest Mom Contest For Cougars Over 35 and Kittens Under in Times Square Is your Mom the next Angelina Jolie, Kate Hudson or Madonna in NYC
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The Hawaiian Tropic Pageant might get a new twist as some of the hottest moms in the planet will walk down the zones runway to compete for the Hottest Moms Contest which is sponsored by Radio Station Q-104. There will be a cougars category awarded for moms over 35 and a Kittens for those sexy moms that are under. Hundreds are expected to attend and judge the annual mom-fest which will bring together some of New York City’s finest looking mothers. The Hottest Mom Beauty Pageant will kick off on Thursday October 29, 2009 -7pm on Times Square at 729 7th Avenue in Manhattan.

****Media can schedule the hot moms on their morning show or features in advance  

Yeah, ok. I’ll get right on that.

*delete*

For The Win!

*\o/*

Oh, and later, when I defused a tense situation: “Mom, teach me your wise ways.”

I chatted with my mom while I was waiting at the curb today and eventually noticed that the kids were lounging around the yard, not collecting belongings.

“What are you doing? Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, we were just giving you some talking time.”

I wiped my hand from my forehead to my chin. “Please get in the car and let’s go, or I swear I will beat you blue…”

“What about black?”

“Oh, that will come later, but first cyanosis sets in… the blue once the oxygen is depleted… WHY AM I EXPLAINING THIS? Get in the car!”

Later, in the house, the humming of the Sonic theme song continued, the chatter about dance routines, and “yo mama” jokes went on and on until I could not stand it. “Children, please, I really don’t want to hurt any of you. You know, that used to be less of an empty threat just a century ago.”

“Mom, are you crazy? If we still lived in times when you could get away with beating me senseless, do you really think I’d be this annoying?”