I forgot to mention that the LBWWMTDASADFFIHAOTAC didn't come to my house on Halloween. Or if he did, he came while we were making the rounds. And by "making the rounds" I mean shamelessly using our children to collect candy for ourselves. If he had come, he would have gotten a recycled mini Hershey bar that we collected from our neighbour earlier in the evening. It seemed to come with an extra gift of some random pet hair. Perfect for the LBWWMTDASADFFIHAOTAC.

What was the worst Halloween candy you saw this year? When I worked at a school, we used to dump out all of the leftover Halloween candy (and recycled candy) on a table in the teacher's lounge. Talk about a feast. The key was getting there at 8 a.m. or all that was left were the recycled candies like a half-opened tootsie pop or someone's old Christmas candy (yes, we actually got a square of Christmas chocolate this year--and I'm thinking that this baby is left over from the last holiday. And the worst part--Josh ate it!). Is this done in every office across America or are teachers the only people eating leftover chocolate after rolling out of bed?

On a side note about blogs, since everyone is participating in NaBloPoMo and pulling out their best thoughts, it made it freakin' difficult to choose just four entries to discuss this week. Seriously, there is a blogging feast of words happening. Pick a random blog from my blogroll and enjoy a new perspective on the world.

At the Unachievable Double Lines, the twins were taken to their four month check-up. I found this post interesting on two levels. (1) she mentions how difficult it is not to compare twins--especially as a new parent who is witnessing differing times for milestones. It fit nicely into my theme--okay, two posts--about comparisons this week. And (2) she confirmed something I've thought for a while. Every mother cringes (and some cry) when their child receives an injection. But I think stirrup queens reflexively think about their own injections when they hear their child howl. And you can't help but have your heart break when you reenter that memory and think about how your poor baby feels being jabbed--even if it is for the sake of vaccinations. Everyone please wait while I don my white lab coat and psychoanalyze myself a bit further and then project all my feelings onto others. Anyway, Unachievable, I'm glad the twins passed with flying colours and that visit will be just one of many times that your kids will make you look like an idiot by doing precisely what they refused to do for you for weeks on end at home :-)

My heart is going out to Beth right now at Prop Your Hips Up Afterwards. I really wanted to write something sensitive about the PICC line. I wanted to write something that would cheer her day and give her support and help her remember that she is such a little engine that could. But all I could think of when I saw the photos of the PICC line were...holy vomit. As a fellow stirrup queen who was still vomiting up until the day she delivered (in fact, the car behind me on Georgia Avenue got treated to a little show when I realized I was out of disposible cups a few days before the twins arrived), I'm sending a virtual Zofran to Beth. In honour of Himself, her husband, who made an extremely amusing acronym for their clinic using the letters from SNATCH (check the side bar of her blog in order to read the full story), I propose that everyone go post on Beth's blog and give her new and creative meanings for the acronym PICC (beyond the obvious "Please, I Can't Chew". Curse words acceptable. Get creative). Now scootch. Go over there. And then come back here and read about this next blog.

Because it's a very beautiful tribute to Manuela and loss in general and how we mourn each other's losses as a community. No stirrup queen should ever stand alone. Ms. Dooneybug (since her husband is Mr. Dooneybug) writes about reading Manuela's blog and feeling that she "mourns so much for her and I don't even really know her and am not a regular reader of her blog. It sort of overwhelms me." I really struggled whether I should write about this post because she didn't link to The Thin Pink Line because she felt as if she didn't have the...right (is that the right word?) to mourn because she wasn't a regular reader or one of Manuela's troops. I hope Dooney doesn't think I'm a bitch for writing about it here. It really wasn't my intention to make anyone uncomfortable. But I think that not only does she have the right to give support to a fellow blogger and stirrup queen, but she has a duty. We are all in this crappy little boat and the only way it's going to stay afloat is if we lend each other these types of words every once in a while. Manuela (like all the stirrup queens who have suffered a loss as of late) needs to know that we all have her back. Because we do have her back. I think "Z" said it best in her comments: "The loss of a child is an unbelieveable and unbearable thing. We, the parents, can feel so many emotions all at once. One minute we need to be held and talked to and the next we just need everyone and everything to go away. It's difficult for everyone...friends, family as well. Just let her know you're there whenever she needs someone. Even though I don't know her or have never read her blog, my heart goes out to her." I just thought you summed up what so many people feel when they read about loss in the blogosphere, Dooneybug, and the post shouldn't be whispered.

And ending with a beautiful post about loss...My Journey Towards My Little Miracle has two posts this week about the aftermath. I was holding my breath towards the end: "the silence in the room when we didn't see the flicker of life. The look on my doctors face. Feeling like I was underwater and in slow motion as my doctor explained that our baby was gone." And smiled through the earlier memories of "the day I began to crave sweets again. When I always needed a nap and this one day I wasn't even tired." I'm so sorry, Sunny. These were gorgeous posts. I wish you were pulling out maternity clothes too.