Summer's coming soon

I scheduled this post exactly two months ago on a random day that I remembered this song, listened to it, and bawled my eyes out thinking of a certain December.

Then, today, I realized we haven't had much (any?) snow yet and it hasn't been super cold so it's not as appropriate a song choice. But still, it is dang dark out there. Happy solstice to all! It's summer before you know it.

P.s., the video is just from some person of the internet, but the song is by Fountains of Wayne.

Pain

In church today someone gave a great talk about the atonement of Christ and how he took upon him all of our pains, sicknesses, shortcomings, sins, etc we experience. As a metaphor the guy kept using this story of how he had this terrible back pain and how it was healed via a steroid shot in his back (which was also scary and painful, but not as painful or long-term as the back pain).

The last couple weeks I have finally started to feel truly pregnant (obvious bump, baby moving enough to sometimes be seen from the outside, and various aches and pains). This last week in particular, back pain has become my new constant companion. Today is definitely the worst back pain I have ever experienced. Standing up? Yowza. Turning? Ouch. Picking up the toddler and putting her back down? Help me, dear Lord. I tried heat and exercises and I still feel like crap. So there I was, sitting in church, really getting in touch with my back pain and its purpose as the speaker talked about some really smart guy that said something like all pain is purposeful or beautiful or whatever.

And the pain I have, sucky though it is, is nothing like the pain others I have known are going through or have gone through. Truth be told, it's not nearly as bad as the pain of a fourth degree tear I myself have experienced, though it's similar in its persistence. But, while I'm cursing this guy in my mind for choosing such a perfect metaphor, I'm wondering if there is something to that whole getting through pain by experiencing the heck out of it thing. Just examining it, following its pathway through the body, describing it to yourself--making it realer than real so you can then let go of it. Maybe this is a question for Nurse Dave. In the meantime, I am off to google some more remedies.

D-E-E-E-E-E-L

"That spells daddy!"

Ha ha. Just didn't want to forget Little A's earliest "spelling" attempts.

My big girl

The other night, when she had only been using her "big girl bed" for a few days I woke up to Little A's hysterical crying (LCD snoozed through it like the professional sleeper he is) and came in to see what happened. I found her on the floor, looking disoriented and scared. She was shaking as she sobbed.

"M-m-m-mommy. Is it book time?"

"No, sweetheart, it's night-night time," I gathered her up in my arms and she snuggled up to me.

"Should we open the curtains?"

"No. Right now it's time for sleeping."

"Should we turn the yight on?" (y=l)

"Not right now."

"Should we sing the sunshine song?" This is the question that made me melt.

"Of course. Let's sing the sunshine song." I held her tight and sang "You Are My Sunshine" with a couple made-up verses thrown in and she slowly got calmer and calmer.

Then she said, "Should [Little A] sing the sunshine song?"

"Yes," I said and waited for her to do what she was going to do (I didn't know). When she didn't start I sang "You are my . . ." and THEN she started singing and sang every word including "You never know dear, how much I yove you."

It broke my heart.

I love that little girl so much. She IS my sunshine. I'm no perfect mom. Wasn't from the beginning and I'm still not. I get exasperated by her energy. I get so impatient when she goes nuts on one of her favorite books and tears it up. When, on the 4,982nd diaper change of her life she screams and shouts "no, mommy!" and wiggles and wipes poo on the wall, and it's not like we haven't been through this before and I haven't told you why it's important to change your diaper. When all the other kids in the class/at the store/at church seem to stay right next to their parent and listen quietly, but she thinks every moment of life is a chance to scream and run. Of course my getting exasperated doesn't do squat. So my new mom resolution is no yelling at her. I've done it a few more times than I would like in my desperate moments and it gets me nowhere and I am quite ashamed, to be honest.

She IS my sunshine. Though it can be tiresome for me, how beautiful is it that she thinks just about every moment of life is a chance to scream and run? A chance to shout and sing. A chance to grab me around the legs and shout "I yove you, mommy!" A chance to go to the next great adventure, all the while beckoning "Come on, mommy!" (as if to say you don't want to miss this). A chance to win over a new friend with smiles and peek-a-boos and sudden hugging with no warning (we're working on asking "do you want a hug?" still).

The other day we spent a good five minutes making silly, shocked faces at each other and cracking up after singing "when the bough breaks, the cradle will . . .Aaagh!"

My precious and precocious kiddo, I never could have dreamed such a wonderful whole child such as you are. Our family has been so blessed by your absolute radiance. Happy 2nd birthday, my love.

This year's anniversary

We went to see a play at the Shakespeare Theatre on Saturday. It was delightfully rendered and a fun escape, but da-ang if the travel time doesn't seem like a bigger deal when you're paying a babysitter. And today (the actual day) I'm cleaning the house. And I got him some flowers. And I picked a random picture of us to frame from the trip we took to Italy 2 1/2 yrs ago (see above). And we're going out to dinner WITH the child (see earlier reference to babysitting expense).

I'll share a secret with you guys: this is how my face looks in the first trimester with a girl:


Another secret: there are several photos that I look worse in than that one, but I am too vain to share. Luckily, it was not nearly so bad this time with the boy. Anyway, I definitely had to retouch (*cough* de-zit) the pic up top to make it look like I was not suffering from any plagues at the time. I mean, why spoil the memories?

I continue to be happily married and I wish that on everyone (if you want it, that is). A better partner for me, I could not possibly devise.

Quotables to remember

Little A says way too many awesome things right now that I kind of want to never change, but I know they will. Soon. Too bad I can't remember them all RIGHT NOW so I could write them all down. But here's a few:

"I'm gonna carry you d'round." She's really starting to rock the pretend play and this is one thing she will say to her animals a lot.

"You love me, mommy?" The cutest. She is also saying "I love you" all the time with no prompting lately.

"The dele." She is always calling herself this. She has the first syllable of her name confused with the article "a," so I guess she figures you must also be able to use "the." It is hilarious.

"Green Bear and Little Bear--they're all our friends!" She said this on Thanksgiving morning when I first came into her room.

"What should I watch?" As in what video--apparently choosing is getting to be a bit much for her sometimes.

"Would you say doo dee da?" This is just an example. "Doo dee da" could be replaced with any word or phrase, real or made up.

Currently she loves to talk about her "big girl bed," though that does not always translate to sleeping it. Overall, she is not doing too bad with the transition.

Thanks

Have I said this before? One of my favorite things is when I am cleaning up after dinner and it's LCD's turn to give the munchkin a bath. I listen to all the weird, silly things he comes up with to tell her or to play with her and I listen to her giggles and excitement and "love you, Daddy"s as I work. And that is when I realize I live a charmed life. So what if the dinner I made was mediocre at best? So what if Little A has been hell-bent to destroy every last thing in our house lately? So what if my income is on hold (well kind of so what)? So what if I have hip pain and just rounded week two and am moving into week three of a cold? So what if the turkey didn't get cooked in time for our meal yesterday?

I have a couple of strange and wonderful people that fill up my life with so much love, that give me hugs and kisses and make me laugh. I have interesting, supportive, and GOOD extended family. I have some loyal friends and some newer ones, all of whom give me a piece of something I need in my life. And we have leftover turkey that we haven't even tasted yet.

Is it bad to let your toddler sleep on the floor?

After the intrepid explorer learned how to escape the crib yesterday, we put her in a "big girl bed" tonight. But of course she didn't stay in it. She instead knocked on her door (luckily her door is one of the harder-to-open ones in the house so she can't get out yet with it closed) for about fifteen minutes and was then silent. I went to check on her an hour later and barely cracked the door before I ran in to her body lying on the floor. I've learned over the months not to move her if she's sleeping, so I just closed the door and let it be. I feel a smidgen of guilt about this, but I think it might just be a rite of passage.

Edited to add: Okay we couldn't do it all night. I kept asking LCD . . .

Should we move her?
No.
Should we move her?
No.
But, are you sure we shouldn't move her?
No . . . yes let's move her.

All in all, she slept beautifully all night. So this morning I am definitely giving thanks!

SW Challenge 8 entries are up for voting

I almost got to the point where I was too ashamed to post them since I'd been sitting on them so long. But the songwriting challenge is about having no shame. I found an easier way to upload and listen to them too, so check it out, yeah.

Hi baby brother!

I am pretty bad at telling what is going on in an ultrasound picture, but this one -- also Little A's favorite -- is pretty clearly a ghostly baby hand waving. I like it because it's the synthesis of creepy and cute. Little A likes to wave back and say "Hi baby brother!"

Otherwise, November is fantastic

Lest someone get the wrong impression from recent posts. I've had a couple ego blows recently but Little A and I have been digging all the sunshine November has shown us (until today). We've spent many hours playing and basking in its glory and I have loved being her mom lately. Yesterday we went on a little hike, took pictures in the fall leaves, played on a playground, played with leaves and sticks (stick-gathering is her favorite past time right now), and later built a fort in the living room (with lots of help from LCD when he got home).

This was also on facebook but I'm too lazy to upload the others:



I'm pretty sure she's the cutest toddler on the planet.

Sometimes you just feel incompetent . . .

which according to a personality test I once took for work is the WORST feeling for me. (On the flipside, it's probably really good for me, too.)

It helps, though, to have your almost two-year-old say, "You okay, Mommy?" and then offer you some of her beloved macaroni-and-cheese at lunch to make you feel better.

former love life has been replaced by work life

So I haven't been single in a while, which is fine with me. You know, beautiful growing family makes up for the missed fun.

But apparently not completely. The uncertainty and the roller coaster ride of it needed a replacement, I guess. I would think parenting would be sufficient for that role, but I admit the range of emotions of a toddler starts to become the routine after a while.

Enter freelancing. Short-term contracts, negotiating rates, just-when-everything-is-looking-peachy curveballs. Yup that works.

Just got another curveball today and it's making me highly nervous. O ye single life, you are always with me.

Happy Halloween!

Already enjoying the spoils of a fruitful trick or treating experience.

On an unrelated note, several times when we have told someone that Little A is going to be a big sister they have said, "Oh, you already know it's a girl?"

Um . . .

Tomorrow we find out if all those people were accidentally right.

Please don't put your life in the hands of a rock and roll band

This is what came right off the top of my head when I was trying to explain to LCD who Noel Gallagher was. Edit: is. I should say is, huh?

The nineties, you guys. It was a simple time.

What's that?

Little A's new favorite phrase. She says it all day long, whether she already knows the thing she is pointing to or not. I like to vary my answers. "I don't know, what is it?" when I am sure she knows what it is. "Is it a X?" when I think she probably knows/knew but forgot. She always responds to that one with "Yes! It is a X, mommy!" (It's hard to explain Little A's voice if you haven't heard it lately, but she is VERY expressive.) And if it's something totally new I tell her. We have definitely entered the inquisitive age, and I gotta say I like it.

We even went to the library the other day and though she acted just a little bit crazier than any other child there, she did not pull down every book off the shelf! And after about twenty minutes of running around, talking to everyone, playing with the stuffed animals they have, and "reading" through books in 2.5 seconds, she sat down and read two whole Curious George books with me (complete with many instances of "what's that?") and we even checked some out and took them home with us. It's okay, Abz, I think I'm even going to return them on time.

Hurray for learning.

Budgeting 101

This is going to be the most obvious thing in the universe, but I just feel like responding on MY BLOG to the crap I always see posted on facebook (I just don't like getting political on fb). Today, for example, I saw this:


I get their point and it's all well and good. Current budget cuts are inadequate to solve the debt problem. I completely agree, but would go further to say budget cuts of any kind are going to be inadequate to solve the debt problem.

You see, we had this issue in my house, too. Once I quit working full-time and we looked at our budget we saw that we too would go into debt if we did not do anything about it. So, should we slash our auto repair fund? Should we stop saving any money for retirement? Should we make all of Little A's toys out of materials we gather outside? Let her run around diaperless like the kids from the African village in that documentary Babies? Should we never go visit family? Etc. etc.

Well, we decided that though we could reduce the amounts in all of these categories and others, we could not get rid of them completely because they were TOO important. So our only option was to increase revenue. And since LCD was already working his bum off to make ends meet, the responsibility to make the difference fell to me.

Would I like to be able to nap while Little A naps and would LCD like for me to give a thorough vacuuming to the house every day? Sure. But sometimes solvency now and in the future requires that we make more money instead of just cutting expenditures. It's a balance.

Are budget cuts inadequate to solve the national debt? Yes, but so is income/revenue. If the meager underprivileged in society need to give up some of their services then the privileged wealthy are going to need to give up some money. Fair is fair. THE END.

Toddler at Mommy's Dr. Appt.

Had a checkup at the dr. today and brought Little A. She mostly wreaked havoc, grabbing and pulling down everything in sight and shouting "Mommy, get down!" (I was told that all the kids say this) when I had to sit on the table. Finally she calmed down when the dr. let her wear the stethoscope and seemed to be somewhat intrigued when she got to sit on my chest and help the dr. hold the doppler microphone on my lower belly to hear little brother/sister--a precious moment to make up for all the screaming and havoc-wreaking. Then the dr. had her wipe the jelly off Mommy's belly, after which she lifted up her own shirt and said, "Want jelly on there!"

Pregnancy #1 appointment: Time to savor and quietly listen to my precious baby's heartbeat.

Pregnancy #2 appointment: Damage control with the toddler, and oh yeah was that a heartbeat? Cool.

child labor

Could migrant farm worker be in Little A's career path? Maybe so.

Yesterday we went apple picking and of course all the low apples were picked over already from earlier visitors to the farm. But, we had our secret weapon with us. LCD would lift Little A up just about as high as he could reach and we would coach her "No, not that one. A little higher. Okay over a little. Yes! That one! Now reach with both hands and hold on tight. Pull! Pull!" And she delivered every time. The child is fantastic at that "game." Luckily, she loved it. So does it count as child labor when they are having a great time?

Since she was so eager to eat one, we washed one off on the spot and let her chomp on her victory (don't worry--we still paid for the half-eaten apple). So, at least she received her wages, right?

Forget the fancy machinery, just get a (n almost) two-year-old!

Does something have to be done?

At best I tolerate cooking. At worst I loathe it. Okay, sometimes I like baking.

Anyway it is a major stress for me most of the time to figure out what to make for dinner. I make dinner for the family Monday through Friday and half of Sundays. It's fair because I am the one here to get started on it so it's ready at a decent hour. It's the thinking of what to make that may be the worst. I look a ton of stuff up and realize we don't have the ingredients for any of it. We have plenty of food in the house as is well-demonstrated by the husband when it is his turn and he whips up something new and exciting with whatever we have on hand. But I don't think of these things. I have a mental block for cooking.

Hasn't it gotten easier yet? Well maybe. I know how to make more things and I am more competent when I do it. But then I get tired of those things. Or maybe I have six weeks of nausea during which it is especially un-fun (thank the heavens it was only six weeks) after which I can't seem to climb back out of that rut. I know the days when LCD comes home early and cooks I feel to shout hallelujah.

So I should probably get into meal planning or something right? Only, I have little to no interest in it. Maybe if it would relieve my stress it would be worth it, though. I do care about my family eating healthy food and a good variety. And I do think it's totally fair that I should do the majority of the cooking. I guarantee you I don't do that much cleaning so I oughta do something.

I know I sound like the perfect candidate for being a working mom while LCD is a stay-at-home dad, but in reality I love being home with the munchkin. The part where I play with her and teach her things and explore the world with her is almost universally awesome. Maybe I should just focus on getting rich so we can pay someone else to cook and clean? There are so many possibilities . . .

I just can't figure out if this problem really needs solving. We're still alive after all. And I'm happy about 22-23 hours a day so that's not too shabby.

And so it begins

I'm doing a lot of editing this month, some of which is quite intense and science-y. Little A is getting more babysitter time. I always miss her at first when I drop her off and then the time just flies and I'm worried I'm going to be late picking her up. Today she started whimpering when I picked her up to go home because she didn't want to stop playing. We've been wondering when Little A would stop being so sweet and lovey to us all the time (we really are spoiled in that area). So far she asserts her independence but still wants us around and seems to prefer mommy and daddy to anyone else. But, she's starting to get more interested in separate play. It's pretty weird that her babyhood will officially end in two months.

Really I should share some pics of our recent trip to KC. Maybe someday.

the illustration I forgot

Happy Equinox

"My mother groaned. My father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt."
--John Vanderslice

I like equinoxes. Fall because it is the best season we have around here. Spring because it is the end of winter and the beginning of so much hope to me. This year I am especially thrilled for fall because it brings me safely into blessed trimester #2. Also I'm ready to just take my time and enjoy life with that precious/precocious tot-o-mine. She points to my belly button and says "baby in there." And then I hug and kiss her many times. Yes, the whole family (the three of us) is pretty excited for spring equinox, as that is when we are due to welcome kidlet #2. Although I am in no hurry.

We feel ridiculously blessed as the timing could not be better and we are so excited to see our little one become a big sister. I better end this blog post before the crying. Oh ye hormones.

P.s., You may see a reprise of that song early next spring.

Fruit Bats

Recently went to a solid, fun rock show in Lawrence, Kansas. I had seen the Fruit Bats before and I do believe they rocked a lot harder this time. A little less folk, a little more straight-ahead rock, with just a pinch of the silly. Weirdly, the opener (who I guess the Fruit Bats front-man has played with before), Vetiver, played for a longer time than the Fruit Bats and I would describe them as lackluster. Fine, maybe even good, but a bit boring. Fruit Bats, however, were great. Not change-your-life great, but a-good-time-was-had-by-all great. Witness this video release from their new album:

Memories from the mid-00's

Something made me think of both of these things today.

Thing 1, which is funny

Thing 2, which is awesome.

A good egg

LCD just got back from helping some friends rip out all the carpet in their basement post-flooding (their house is about three times the size of ours) and two minutes later the next-door neighbors' teenager knocks and says their basement is flooding and he's out the door again.

I like him.

Sadly, I do fear there is more of this to come as we find out more people we know have had flooding damage (we're fine--I could kiss the dudes that regraded our sidewalk a while back). Worse still, many many areas around the northeast were hit much worse than ours. I guess last week's natural disasters were just practice?

Oh yeah, you music

You would think based on the title of this blog that I spend some time listening to and/or playing rock music. Lately--say the last 21 months or so--you would be wrong. But then the other day LCD was whining about how we never do music stuff anymore and I came up with a project for us--to learn how to play and create our own version of a Beatles song every week. This week LCD picked "Hey Jude," a song most of us have heard a berjillion times. I mean, right?

But do you know that when we were playing/singing it, just about every time we got to the line "Hey Jude, you'll do. The movement you need is on your shoulder," I got goosebumps? Or butterflies. Something. Oh yeah, you music. You poetry.

There's a good chance you've heard the story, but in case not, the legend goes that Paul McCartney was not sure about this line because there's a slight awkwardness to it. "The movement you need is on your shoulder" is just not the sort of thing people generally say. But when he expressed his doubts about keeping it John Lennon told him it was the best line of the song. Based on my goosebumps, he was right. I love it when poetry is empowering without being corny.

Next week I want to learn "Got to Get You into My Life." I think it will be romantic (even though maybe it's actually about drugs--oh the sixties).

P.s., The cute part is that Little A is starting to learn the song. If you sing "Hey Jude," she'll say, "Don't make it bad."

Earthquakes, hurricanes, and worst fears

So there was an earthquake here yesterday. Other than it being a creepy sign of the times it was no big deal. A hurricane coming this weekend could be a big deal for people on the coast. I'm hoping not. But anyway, for me, the scariest moment of the day, week, and possibly year happened yesterday and had nothing to do with natural disasters.

Here's how it went down:

The weather has been so wonderfully mild recently that I left the front door open after LCD went to work (closed the storm door of course) for some extra light. Little A and I ate and after breakfast I let the toddler scamper off to the next room (living room) while I did a little basic clean-up. Then I brought a sippy cup of milk in to the living room. "Here ya go, sweetie." Normally she will run for the milk and say something, but she did not and I was in a rush because I had just remembered somewhere we needed to be so I just left the room, closing the basement door as I passed it. Then I noticed in the bathroom mirror that my bangs looked ridiculous so I went in to wet them down and such. About thirty seconds later I came out of the bathroom and went to collect Little A in the living room, but she wasn't there and the milk was untouched. So I looked around in the other rooms and then I thought maybe she had gone upstairs so I went up there and looked in all the rooms. No kid. Okay, maybe she's hiding, I think, as she has escaped my view before by being behind a chair or something similar. So I start calling her name, running back downstairs and looking behind everything. Then I notice the front door that is still open (storm door still closed). Has she learned how to open the storm door? So I ran outside calling her name, starting to panic, and getting flashes of invented-sexual-predator in my brain. I look in every direction I can think of, it really has not been that long for her to get very far, but I see nothing. I run back inside trying to collect my thoughts. Could a sexual predator have run off with her that fast? Maybe. Now I am screaming her name and dashing around the house when I notice the basement door, still totally closed. I throw it open, run down the stairs, and there she is, playing quietly with her stupid alligator toy and blocks (what? she does not play quietly!). I burst into sobs on the spot and hugged her, all of which upset her a little bit since all the while she had just been chilling. My heart was racing and I couldn't get the image of invented-sexual-predator out of my mind.

Even though most of this happened in my head, it felt very traumatic. Now I wonder how I will ever deal with losing her at the mall one day when she's nine. Later, when the earthquake started and I picked her up and stood in a doorway I felt such relief that I was able to help protect her and keep her safe in that instant. When it was over I told her, "That was an earthquake," and it felt very comforting and parental to be able to say it.

It blows my mind sometimes to think about how mom-like I have become, but what else do you do when something so fragile, complicated, exasperating, and wonderful is in your solitary care most of the time?

Oh, I figured out that she must have already been in the basement when I shut the door, just in case you were wondering.

Le Sigh . . .

Finally, I finally got myself a nice camera (not SLR or anything, just a decent point-and-shoot). It got here on Thursday but I didn't really start taking many pics until today b/c I needed an SD card. So Little A got ahold of it for a minute and there are teeth marks on the corner. Nice.

Two hours later it stopped working.

ARRRRRRRRGH.

I can't even prove I had it since I can't upload any of the photos I took.

Yes I'm sending it to the manufacturer to see if they will repair it. I don't know for sure that it was destroyed by Little A since it kept working for a while, but those tiny bite marks will probably not be earning me any cred.

I'm not mad at her as she is a toddler and it was my job to keep the expensive electronic equipment away, but I am frustrated that the camera I've been thinking about getting for over a year conked out the day I started using it.

Grumble.

Grunt.

My birthday present.

Okay, deep breath and a cute story about Little A before I teeter over the edge of the self-pity cliff into the abyss of loathing.

She is learning to pray and it is super cute. Today she bent her little head down and said "Heavenly Father. Thank you day . . . Papa D . . . Amen!" ("Papa D" has been sick so he gets mentioned often.)

Little A's Catch Phrases

"I hear it now." (often closely linked with "far away!" and said whenever she hears anything out of the ordinary like a siren, train, plane, dog barking, etc.)

"Don't you do that!" (once she said "Don't you do that on purpose" which was pretty hilarious)

"Froggy do it." (also insert any other stuffed animal--basically means mom gets to pretend that the stuffed animal is doing something, e.g. throwing/catching a ball)

"One more!" (said holding her finger in the air--often used as "one more book" at bedtime, though yesterday she used it after we saw a plane fly across the sky--yes the child thinks I can somehow make planes fly by)

"Bye bye Daddy. See you later!"

"Find the woozles!" (still obsessed with Winnie the Pooh, we get our fix via youtube, and currently one of her favorite activities is to walk around outside looking for "woozles")

"Nigh nigh kiss!" (another delaying bedtime tactic, but oh-so-cute)

"Oh boy!" (said like the man in the yellow hat on Curious George)

"I fell down!" (starting to make herself fall down and then look up with a grin to say this--pretty funny)

**added later: "Rococo modern kids!" (can't believe I forgot this one--she is obsessed with the Arcade Fire song "Rococo" and requests it constantly)

I'm sure there are lots more but this is what comes to mind. She's quite the talker at 20 months and starting to be quite hilarious too. It's lots of fun.

Most interesting parenting moment of the day

. . . so far, anyway.

Little A was being a stinker at lunch and throwing food on the floor (she's been doing this for almost a year now but it has slowed down recently as I think she pretty much "gets" gravity). So we went through the same routine as always where she does not get back anything that went on the floor and afterwards she has to clean it up. I'm not sure how much she learns from this, as she seems to think cleaning up is a game, but what is discipline if not consistent repetition ad nauseum?

So first she picks up all the pasta she threw down and puts it in the bowl--no problem. Then I ask her to pick up the string cheese and put it in the bowl too. "No," she says, and tries to hurry away. So I grab her, re-explain the situation, get another flat refusal, and then hold her while she screams and yells "no! no! no!" We continue in this fashion for a minute or two, me telling her what she must do over and over, her continued refusal, each of us getting more and more frustrated, and then my brain starts to work.

What is the goal here?
To get Little A to clean up her mess.
What about putting the string cheese in the bowl?
As long as she cleans it up, the message gets across.

So, I ask her if she would rather put the string cheese in the garbage and I get almost instant compliance. And from then on she's happy as though nothing had disturbed her.

Um.

My guess is that it seemed very wrong to her to combine the pasta with the string cheese in the bowl. It upset her sense of order.

So there we were in the middle of the power struggle and I'm sure it seemed very important to both of us that we win. But Little A doing EXACTLY what I say was only important as far as my ego was concerned. For the lesson to be learned, the methods could easily be modified. I'm reading this parenting book called Kids, Parents, and Power Struggles and it talks about (among other things) how power struggles are really an opportunity to learn from your child and discover what sort of emotions drive them. It was interesting to experience what the author talks about today.

Toddlers are strange little creatures, but I'm finding more and more that there is a weird sort of logic to their madness.

Twinkle twinkle

So the video itself is not that cute because this child does not sit still. But the audio is pretty adorable.

twinkle on the move from emjay on Vimeo.

I'm 33 today

Overall, I would say I'm happy about that. I don't have everything figured out yet, but I feel pretty comfy with myself. Go thirties!

hair cuts

I have been living with a complete and utter lack of haircut for at least six months now (I lose track as I am usually focused on whether Little A looks cute instead). What I mean by lack of haircut is that my hair grew out from a previous decent haircut into a shambles of randomness. The horror. I have some tolerance for terrible hair but it ran out recently and so I made an appointment with my stylist, LCD.

After several false starts (one which I wore for an entire day before I convinced LCD that I looked too much like a cocker spaniel or a Hasidic Jew) we ended up basing the haircut on this:



So the question is, will this look work for me? It's actually too late now to change the outcome, though I did consider that question for about five minutes before proceeding. Then I figured at least it would be a haircut instead of a mess. LCD has the higher quality pics but here's one I just took from my netbook camera:



Not quite as stylish as hers but I think I like it. Still working on styling options. Oh and I will try and capture the mullet in the back later since LCD is very proud of it.

NPR Essay Draft Attempt 1

This may be my only attempt as I should not have done this instead of working, but I have to publish it somewhere since I spent so much of my life doing it. I way overshot the word limit and did not even answer the question. Also it needs more showing and less telling. Yes, yes I know. Anyway, here it is . . .

The question: Has parenthood changed you? Was there a moment or incident that sparked the realization? Tell us about it.

In the early months I found myself describing it in terms of learning to swim. Though I don't remember it that well I imagine there's only so much you can do to prepare to learn to swim. Then when you're actually in water deeper than yourself for the first time, the key thing becomes simply not drowning, not choking on the water, flailing to stay afloat. Eventually you can work on getting from point A to point B via dogpaddle. The progression continues from there and even very good swimmers can still find themselves out of their element from time to time, in rough waters where the basics of staying afloat come into sharp focus once more as the main thing.

The first couple months of Adele's life, the routine was: wake up to her crying, stumble through the darkness, breastfeed her for 45 minutes and then hand off to my husband who would give her a supplemental bottle-feed and then hold her upright for 20 more minutes while she digested and I attempted to sleep, and two hours later repeat. Adele has no major health issues but she was a small baby with a weak sucking reflex early on and she was cursed with acid reflux like her father before her. Not to be left out, I was cursed with low milk supply and mild post-partum depression. Hint: this is the part where we flail to stay afloat.

Now Adele is 19 months old. We survived colic and post-partum depression and every bump since then and now I have on my hands a little toddler whose idol is Curious George. Today she ate part of a pencil, opened a box of bowtie pasta and spilled its entire contents, repeatedly poured buckets of water out of her baby pool despite my parental wisdom "water stays in the pool, not out of the pool," half-fell half-jumped off a couch (cried for two seconds and then climbed back onto that same couch), ran away from every diaper change as always, hit mom in the head on several occasions, danced, laughed, and said "mommy!" like I was the celebrity obsession of a love-sick teenager.

I often think to myself, "I left a promising career I was actually quite good at for this?" In my career I had my challenges and personality clashes and learning curves just like everyone, but I have to admit that most of the time if I did my homework and worked hard I saw success and received praise. Simple as that. I knew parenting would not be as easy as my job, but I did think I could prepare and arm myself with the tools and information I needed to succeed and it would happen in much the same way as it did at work.

I read books, I planned strategies, and I assumed that I would have the natural instinct of mothering the way I naturally excelled at most things in my career. Then Adele came along, laughed at my strategies and books, demoralized and humiliated my instincts. In short, she tore me down and then taught me how to be her mom from the ground up. Somehow in the middle of all that I started to realize what a miracle this parenting thing is and how it is making a new person of me. A person that doesn't already know the answer to anything.And when she says "mommy" in that in-love sort of tone, I think "Of course I left a promising career I was actually quite good at for this."

Now I swim a rudimentary freestyle stroke. And I tell everyone I can not to trust the books. There are no answers. I don't know if I even want answers anymore--that's how I've changed. Read them and use what works, but don't trust them. Sometimes you can't even trust yourself, though you are usually better off trying that. Mainly you have to trust your kid to show you the way. I don't mean give them ice cream and candy all day. I mean try everything until you find what works for them.

I thought parenting was something you planned ahead of time and executed, and yes to some extent it can be and it is certainly important to be consistent in discipline where possible. But mostly I now think parenting is the thing that happens in the meantime while you figure out how to do the thing your child needs. It's spending those agonizing late nights or patiently reading "Go Dog Go" for the hundredth time with all the same pauses and invented sub-plots. It's learning to embrace the fact that a conference call that goes past nap-time is going to get hairy and there's nothing you can do about it. It's breastfeeding your baby in the middle of a crowded metro station on a holiday because you know it's the only thing that will stop the crying. It's understanding that there is going to be so much amorphous whatever now in your life rather than schedules and plans and if-then scenarios.

It's "I once was found but now am lost." I mean, in a way, right?

They got us good

Disney did. Can you believe the Winnie the Pooh adventure is not over??? It's been on backorder for weeks and I just did a more thorough search and its out of stock like everywhere and you can not get it new for less than OBSCENE. Probably because there's some new movie coming out (or that already came out?). Now I gotta decide if I want to pay $30 for a "good" quality used copy.

I feel so lame.

At least we mustered the courage to send it back to netflix. Little A hasn't asked for it in a while so maybe I should just leave it at that. If only it weren't so darn charming.

Just a little stress

Nothing much. But it is amazing the difference between working 15 hours a week from home instead of 10 when you are otherwise a stay-at-home mom. It means more nights of hanging with my laptop instead of my LCD. I think the increased stress comes most from the fact that I could easily be working 20 hours or even more and getting through things faster, offering more services. But time is precious to me. So I do my best, but say "no thanks" much more than I would at a full-time job. It feels strange and a bit worrisome.

But things are good over here. We are much blessed.

A baby or a kid?

Signs Little A is turning into a kid:

-She says "yeah" and "nope."
-She tries to climb trees (as of today).
-Other kids want to play with her.
-Sometimes other moms at the playground refer to her as "the little girl" when talking to their kid.

Signs Little A is still a baby:

-She will still cuddle with her head resting under my chin (when she cuddles at all, that is).
-She may know what to do with most toys, but she will still stick them in her mouth at some point.
-She self-identifies: points to herself and says "baby."
-Sometimes the playground moms call her "the baby."

At 18 months, she is two ounces shy of 20 lbs, and just over two-and-a-half feet tall.

That old nervous feeling

A few minutes ago I started getting this nervous sinking feeling and I wasn't sure why. Then I remembered I'm sharing the bill (four ways) for a show on Friday. I'm not entirely sure how that even happened but I know it has been a long, long time. Thank the heavens I only have to play like three songs. Might need to find a paper back for breathing into . . .

Disney begins to slowly siphon our cash . . .

Little A got a bunch of hand-me-down Winnie the Pooh books and she loves him. So we ordered the classic movie from Netflix to take on our recent roadtrip and a week later we still haven't sent it back.



And so it begins . . .

The movie is quite expensive on Amazon and even ebay, but she loves it and asks for "Pooh" in the most pitiful whimpery voice, while in teething pain no less. And, as it turns out, it is a truly wonderful movie for kids that is pretty much faultless when you compare it to the more recent rehashed straight-to-video princess garbage Disney tries to sell little girls on (if that's your thing, go ahead and love it, but it's not mine). Sigh. We finally found a deal where we don't feel completely humiliated at Best Buy, which is better than continuing to pay Netflix rental fees until the end of time. Now the question becomes do I have the guts to get rid of our current video while we wait for the one which is truly ours to arrive?

Newest tricks

Little A has recently learned a couple new tricks:

1) using her superpowers to do . . . something

Untitled from Vimeo.

2) playing harmonica

Untitled from Vimeo.

3) being super cute (okay this trick is not new)

applesauce from Vimeo.

No illustrations

I am a really inconsistent photographer. Which is probably not fair since I have the cutest child on the planet. But LCD took some photos (still on his phone) and so did other family members.

Anyway we just got back from vacation and had a great time. Little A got so much attention from her 4 girl cousins and she took it in stride. She's like, of course I deserve lots of attention. I mean, I am REALLY cool. We went to the beach and Little A ran into the ocean like a bat out of hell repeatedly. It is a lot of work keeping that child alive, I tell you. Sometimes I'm proud of her for being so fearless but in the moment it often scares the crap out of me. She's learned to tease me by pretending to get ready to jump off the highest point on the playground. Awesome. It was interesting to see her in comparison to her cousins and realize that I am not just some frazzled first time mom (though that may be part of it). She really is more active and fearless than any of her cousins ever were/are (confirmed by Grandpa). Oh, but how I love her.

It's boring to have someone tell you about their vacation with no pictures, so I will summarize:
beach
swamp
history
seafood
family

Then after we got back, LCD's side of the family came over for Memorial Day BBQ.

What a week.

Wisdom

Have I mentioned my brother's advice column? It's often informative and sometimes even sensible, but always awesome. He's a nurse, so basically he knows everything.

Also, speaking of wisdom (mack-truck-no-breakssssuh), we got ourselves a new recording device that you don't need a degree in sound engineering to run. You do need the independent study course, though. Anyway, the music will not be kept down by (my) apathy. It rolleth forth.

p.s., we could use a babysitter in three hours. anyone?

Freelancing/working from home

So it occurs to me that I might actually be able to make this blog useful to someone out there. After all, there are probably quite a few women (or men) that would like to be able to stay home with their babies (at least MOST of the time) but still need to make some money. I can tell you that it is certainly possible to do, but that it is also most definitely not for everybody. Only you know how that statement applies to you--just go with your gut. Also, I have no idea how you would do it without any specialized skills to start with. So, if you're looking for someone to tell you how to make gobs of money mysteriously from the internetz or become an e-bay tycoon from scratch or something of that ilk, I am not your gal. I am a freelance editor and writer because I used to be a full-time employed technical editor and writer. Which is not to say that you have to be a writer/editor to work from home freelance-style (maybe you make a killer wedding cake, who knows?), but since that's what I know best I might talk a little about that.

Anyway . . .

Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to interview myself as if I were myself a few years ago.

Is it worth it? Meaning: is it worth it to sometimes be stressed out staying up late at night working on some piddly project to get the so-called "privilege" to spend all day with a cromagnon being?

For me the answer is a "hell yes." For you? Who knows, we're all different. But here's the thing: three month post-partum me--had she the brain power to answer such a question with anything but "buhhh whaaaa?"--would likely offer an emphatic "hell no." It takes time to get used to such an arrangement. But now, today, I adore the fact that if Little A wants to spend an hour some morning just going through all the books on her shelf we have time to do that. And if one day it takes us two hours to walk to the grocery store and back, since there are so many wonderful things to stop and smell on the way, then why not?

Ok, so how did you get started freelancing?

Hooo boy. Well, firstly I had a master plan. And item number one was amass lots of diverse experience and keep relationships after each experience ends. Three years ago me should actually know this, but maybe she wants some reassurance? By the way, some of my experience was regular employment stuff and some of it was volunteering for non-profits. Also I was lucky enough to have a good chunk of savings due to several years working prior to having the baby and my pretty relentless frugality. This allowed me to be pretty lazy about the whole thing for a while, which was great because I know myself and sometimes I enjoy being lazy. So know yourself and try and get the savings to compensate.

Next, I started contacting all those people I had maintained relationships with. "Hey, I had a baby and am interested in some contract work" with some nice pleasantries in-between. And, I mentioned it to some friends, too. Not in a slimy "want to buy some knives?" sort of way, but just in a "hey, this is what I am trying to do with my life" sort of way.

And so then the work and dough started rolling in?

Sort of-kind of. I got lazy for a while and then got a reality wake-up call as we were looking at out budget and realized I needed to get more serious and more professional. So I created a business website. I took my time and sold myself pretty well on it, I think. Since I was selling my writing, the language had to be pretty much perfect and I needed to come up with a compelling hook. I also gathered all my portfolio materials together, did some more research on standard rates and came up with some, and registered my business. Then, I started contacting people again and directed them to my website.

So how much work do you get?

Not a ton, but that is not my point. And I could probably get more if I wanted to. I just need enough to meet our desired budget and it turns out I can get there in 10 hours a week, or even a little less. Right now I fluctuate (A LOT) but that is my average. And when you consider that I am paying almost nothing for child care (sometimes I drop her at the neighbor's home daycare for a couple hours), it's as if I were working at least twice that (with daycare). We are by no means "rolling in it" but we will be able to replace my car when it dies (with a nice used car) and save a little bit.

What about your relationship with the hubs?

Oh man I sure love him. But, yes, I have to make spending time with him a priority. I will occasionally have serious deadlines that require working late hours and handing off the baby when LCD gets home. That is lame-tastic, but it is rare, thankfully. If that were the general rule, I guarantee you I would get a part-time job so fast. But, most of the time I make nap-time plus his one late night at work my work-time. At some point when the babe starts to get more and more unreliable with nap-time I will have to schedule a more permanent part-time care situation. I am currently looking into swapping with another mom 1-2 X a week to ensure I have time to work and time to hang with my loves.

Well it sounds like everything is wrapped up into a neat little package then.

Sure, until the next dry spell. Or the next kid messes up my schedule. Or this one stops taking naps. But yeah, in general I think we will survive.

Year Two: Rocks, Sticks, and Flowers

Do you remember when I said I was going to rock year two of parenting? Well, I don't know if it's me that's rocking it necessarily but I am loving this second year.

Little A is pretty much non-stop fun. Well, until she breaks something. Which happens pretty much every day. But, hey, it's just stuff.

All day long she labels everything we see with a level of enthusiasm I have rarely had in my life. (Well, actually, in most of my childhood pictures I do have crazy eyes and a wide-open mouth, so the enthusiasm must still live in me somewhere. For now it is expressed through my daughter.) A rock! A stick! Look, a flower! A plane! A train! Eyes, nose, mouth, ear, hair! The playground! Seriously, the playground!!!! (Pronounced "ba-pow.") Daddy! Daddy's shoe! Wow, Daddy's tie! A dog! A bunny! My bear! All day long.

For mother's day she learned to pronounce "mommy" correctly, which was cute and sad simultaneously (b/c "mimi" WAS rather adorable).

That did not go so well

Just got off a conference call a few minutes ago with a bunch of guys I was meeting for the first time who were all talking specialized technical stuff I only have a rather generic background in. Oh, and at the same time, someone was picking up a bunch of casseroles from my house to take to the homeless services center place I usually go to monthly (just my lucky timing). Also my neighbor canceled on me for watching the babe, so she was being occupied somewhat by Curious George, though she came by often to shout at me. The best part of all is that I could not figure out how to make the mute button work on my phone. Gotta love working from home.

On another note, happy 17 months Little A!

So my mile was not exactly a mile

It was more like 2 miles according to mapmyrun.com. The pedometer app I used was apparently for crap.

The good news is I've been running 2 miles. Phew. After that first time I was worried maybe I would be dead soon. Turns out I'm just normal out-of-shape.

Nature Lovin'

as captured by cell phone . . .

This AM's little adventure

We had a simple little adventure this morning that started reminding me of a children's book about halfway through. It was all about trying to get to the store to buy some bananas or "mana" for my little banana fiend and all the obstacles we encountered along the way. I'll tell you more about it later. I gotta work but I just wanted to write this as a little reminder to myself. Hope you don't mind.

fistful of love

I've been thinking of this song lately, because:

a: It's on the running mix I created in 2005, which I have been rediscovering
b: Apparently toddlers really do use violence to say I love you (well, mine does). Just change the words slightly: "I feel that slap to the face/punch to the gut/toy you are whacking me with repeatedly, and I know it's out of love." (By the way, PSA, just because toddlers do it does not make it okay. In fact, most things they do are not okay for grown-ups.)

I love this song, though. It's gorgeous and tragic to the max.

Okay, that was a little better

I ran again. See, I told you I would, internets. This time I only walked at the very end to "cool down." Believe me, my running is not much faster than your walking but I still count it. Feeling like slightly less of a lump today anyway.

I "ran" a mile yesterday

So I did not have too hard of a time losing the baby weight. It was not immediate, but I was back to normal (or at least close enough--we won't talk about belly skin) by 9 months after. Hooray for breastfeeding! NEVERTHELESS, I am in terrible shape, except perhaps for my arms. So yesterday I went jogging for the first time in a long, long time. It is finally light enough outside after dinner (when LCD can watch the babe)! A mile used to be no problem for me (to be fair to myself, there are a lot of hills in this mile and I got just-ate-dinner cramps) but it took me for-EV-er and I had to walk about HALF of it. I can't think of a time in the rest of my life that I have ever had to walk HALF of one stinkin' little mile. I really did not think I would be this weak SIXTEEN MONTHS (!) post-baby. It convinced me all the more that I need to get back into running a few times a week. So, going for a repeat on Wednesday, maybe with slightly better results? I'm hoping that within a couple of weeks I can run the whole time and start to add more distance.

I feel like kind of a loser compared to the women that are back to an exercise regimen a couple weeks after the baby. I won't lie. Baby recovery was not easy on me and my insides and I honestly could not walk without pain until maybe 2 or 3 months after, so I doubt I will ever be one of those women. But still . . . next time I ought to be able to do more (yoga is not enough, it turns out) at least by 6 months.

Anyway, you gotta start somewhere!

Please legitimize me

Or not so much me as the songwriting challenge. We could use a few more votes in the latest contest. Frankly, I think three of the songs for this contest are just about equally outstanding and you should listen to them. I wish I could give one vote to each, but I had to choose somebody.

Oh I love that baby

Also I need a decent camera

Update on "The Brick Fairy"/Emily

Remember when I wrote about Little A's first friend? If not, you should probably check it out here.

Anyway, since those heartwarming moments we have had lots of interactions with the girl, whose name I still do not know. LCD and I asked her to spell it one time with our pathetic rudimentary sign language, but we couldn't figure out what she was spelling and eventually gave up. I recently decided that she seems like an Emily, so I guess that should be her code name. Especially since she has not delivered any bricks to us in ages.

So . . . "Emily" is still Little A's biggest fan in the neighborhood (maybe--the next door neighbors do kind of adore her) and she gets very excited every time she sees us outside. Lately, that is pretty darn often. I never see "Emily" interacting in positive ways with anyone else so I figure her time with Little A is a good thing. I try not to quash it; I really do.

Except sometimes it's unsafe. Little A is all about playing on the playground now, but she is only 15 months old so she needs mucho supervision. "Emily" tends to be all over Little A and often gets between us and I get really anxious and oh yeah sometimes I have to dart in and keep Little A from falling 2-3 baby lengths onto the ground (yikes). And I don't let "Emily" take Little A down the big slide on her lap. I feel somewhat bad about this because I would trust one of our next door neighbors' kids to take Little A down the slide and they are probably a little younger than "Emily," but I still just don't know what she's capable of.

Also, I hate to say this, but sometimes it's plain old annoying. I know; I am a terrible person. But Little A is really into doing things on her own and so I let her when it is practical. "Emily," on the other hand, is all up in Little A's face and grabbing at her all the time. She wants to touch her hands, her face, to hug her, pick her up, etc. I really just want to say "Dude, just give her some space," but she can't hear. And she might not get it anyway. I end up trying to gesture to her to not touch Little A. Maybe that's mean of me.

It's an interesting playground dilemma and I hope we get past this awkward hurdle and Little A's relationship with "Emily" ends up being a positive one for everyone. I want Little A to grow up with compassion, but it would be so much less stressful if I didn't have to worry about my wobbly toddler getting knocked down, manhandled, and even just bugged by the well-meaning special needs adolescent.

On the one hand, this is such a small thing and just one little part of my life. On the other hand, I feel like how I handle this is evidence of what kind of person I am. Am I easily exasperated? (Yes) Am I tolerant? (Sort of) Do I have love for those that are not easy to love? (I try) I know my attitude will one day become my daughter's attitude so it feels important. Hope I don't screw it up.

Alien Invasion!

I have finally posted the latest songwriting challenge entries over
here!

Check it.

Chick Flick Duds

There used to be such a thing as a good chick flick, didn't there? I'm having a hard time recalling them now, but I know there are some romantic comedies I have seen that actually were romantic and/or actually funny, right? Or those empowering sisterhood movies; they had their moments, didn't they? And I'm not talking period films, because those are always automatically better (we recently watched "The Young Victoria" and it was fantastic). It seems like every time I talk LCD into watching a chick flick these days, it is terrible. The characters are annoying, the romance is like eating sand, and I feel slightly dumber after having watched the movie. And I want them to be good--or at least redeemable. When I am in the mood, I am someone who is totally on board with "feel good" moments. I'll eat it right up if it is at all believable.

Somewhat recently we have netflixed:
"You Again"
"The Back-up Plan" (okay fine, this was my fault)
"Leap Year"

all three of which totally fit the above criteria of terribleness. Do I need to abandon the genre altogether?

Winter did not defeat me

this year.

Last year, it totally defeated me. I was the epitome of defeated.

This year was different. Also, there weren't three foot snowdrifts for weeks and weeks through February. So that helped. And my baby still hates staying inside and still fusses about it, but only at about 1/10th of the power of last year. So that helped. And I wasn't fighting postpartum depression. So again, thank you universe. And I could walk without feeling like I would die. So, yes, there are many reasons.

But also I planned really well. I stalked the weather for nice days. And I loosely interpreted "nice days." And we went outside every possible moment that wasn't freezing. And now it is mostly spring. There are buds on some of the trees. And the daffodils in the backyard are set to open any day.

Aaaaaah.

15 months of baby love

Really, we're still counting? Yes.

Today my sweet baby was subjected to ridiculous numbers of vaccines, including the MMR, known widely as the one that causes Autism, except that it doesn't. I know it's ridiculous, but there is a miniscule part of me that still thinks what if? I mean, I believe science and all but it's not like science has never been wrong before. Anyway, she also got a Chicken Pox vaccine, which means no pock-marked rite of passage for her. Some day I can imagine myself telling her about "my day" when kids got chicken pox and nobody got to watch movies in the car.

She was pretty clingy for the latter half of the day, but really sweet about it, giving me lots of hugs and later pointing at the bandaids on her legs and saying "ow" ever-so-daintily. She calls me "mimi" which I kind of want to freeze in time. It is sooooooo cute. She also kept saying "a-bell-a" today as it rained all. day. long.

Here's her teensy tiny stats:
Length/height = 28.5 inches (around 5%)
Weight = 18 lbs 7 ounces (around 2%)
Head = 18.25 inches (around 65%)

I know a lot of people are not huge fans of this stage of still getting into everything and starting to throw little tantrums and let's not forget fussing and crying the entire time you make dinner. But other than the few moments where I almost lose it when she dumps her food all over the floor that we just scrubbed down the night before, I love it. She gives hugs all the time and kisses sometimes and loves to read read read. She climbs on top of me and giggles her face off. We chase each other around the house. She calls me "mimi." She loves to play outside and runs like a wild woman across the grass fields. Basically, it's awesome.

And now I better get back to what I'm supposed to be doing tonight. Not exactly thrilling, but it pays a lot more per hour than blogging.

Memory lane, oh the drama . . .

My brother recently sent me a two-cd "Anthology" that compiles all of the crap recordings I made of myself playing guitar and singing in the early days. By crap recordings I mean "insert blank tape into boom box and press record." Or sometimes, when being really innovative, I would record multiple tracks by putting the first tape into my parent's stereo, pressing play, and then pressing record on the boombox that was strategically placed next to the stereo speaker. That would be how I got to harmonize with myself on some of the songs.

Needless to say, the recordings are laughable, as are many of the songs I wrote, some of which I honestly have no memory of. But there they are, preserved for future generations now. Oh the memories. Reliving my teenage and early college years, I had to face some hard truths, such as:
1) I had NO IDEA how to use a microphone (and sadly I still am not that great). All my dynamic variation makes for some serious screeching from time to time (which I tell myself was not my actual voice but the recording of said voice because I was too darn loud!!!)
2) I was a terrible guitar player (though I thankfully got better as the recordings got later in time).
3) Dramatic much? There was so much feeling in some of the songs with so much simultaneous vagueness. I believe this is what I thought passed for poetry in those days.

Still, there was something about a few of those songs. That pure, raw emotion of a self conscious/self-centered 17 or 18-year-old is kind of beautiful. Also, once we got into "Freshman Year" territory with the songs I got to relive all the incredible fun and drama that year was for me in my life. Oh how I loved that year. I could listen to songs and pinpoint, "Oh this is the one about my 'friend' who was really trying to 'steal' the guy that wasn't quite mine"-- ha ha ha. Or "this song is the only thing I got out of Anatomy class" (and unfortunately it's not that good). Or "this is my love song for that one Canadian guy who later got kicked out of school." So, today, as I had all those old songs swirling in my brain I had this idea. This wonderful, awful idea. Those songs, while a bit over-the-top for my taste today, might fit perfectly into . . . wait for it . . . a musical.

Would anyone want to watch a musical loosely based on my first year of college? Ha ha ha. I'll give you a little taste first. These are the lyrics (inspired by this, actually) that would introduce (and be sung by) the character that would be loosely based on me:

When I call into the night
I don't expect an answer
But I shout out anyway
To calm my nerves and let myself be heard by the stillness

Lifting my arms to the heavens
I offer up a question
And I decide that there may be
Something better . . . than just courteous gestures

Chorus:
And I feel as though I knew something once
That could impact all the silence that is felt
And sometimes I come so near to it that I smile
Because we become better in the end

I think I would either axe or change later verses. Anyway, this musical would have to be more than just the puppy love/friend betrayal dramaz/road trips/staying up all night with hours of conversation/festival of crappy grades that was my freshman year. You know, like throw in a murder mystery or something. Ya think?

Ba-pa!

...is what Little A shouted when I showed her this picture:

For all the photos of herself she just says "baby."

attic of mystery

We just finished our latest home improvement adventure: attic insulation. Oooh and aaah. Okay, we paid someone to do it, but there is still an adventure in it. Just wait for it through a couple paragraphs (if you dare). The sea of foamy pink in our attic now looks quite luxurious and swimmable (is that one "m" or two?).

LCD and I could talk to you about home improvement adventures for probably three days straight. That's how awesome we are. And that's how awesome it is to buy a foreclosed home. How about a brief list of the highlights since December 2008? (December is the month in which we get married, buy houses, and have babies.)

1 Recarpeting in total
2 Repainting except for the basement
3 Tiling the kitchen
4 Refinishing the kitchen cabinets
5 Landscaping the yard
6 Repairing and cleaning the fence
7 Trimming trees
8 Buying a brand new HVAC (Yowzers -- thank you tax credit.)
9 Regrading the sidewalk
10 Repairing drywall in ceiling and part of walls (after an exciting pipe leak!)
11 Replacing some pipes (Hello pipes from 1973! I'm sure we'll meet again!)
12 Recaulking bathrooms
13 Replacing toilet tank
14 Replacing kitchen faucet
15 Replacing light fixtures
16 Replacing shower hardware
17 Rebuilding/Replacing Window Screens
18 Installing ceiling fan
19 Adding attic insulation

Some of these things we did ourselves, others we paid people to do, and some were a combo. And there is more in the minutae of it all, but if you're not asleep yet I'll be moving on.

The attic insulation project ended up being bigger for us than we had planned. Mostly because there was a lot of junk up there. Especially a lot of old, musty, strangely-colored carpet. And part of a stove. And two chairs that I would not trust anyone bigger than an infant to sit on (and since infants tend to fall off things the chairs are pretty much 100% useless). And an old desk. The old desk was definitely the most exciting part of the adventure. One drawer was filled with a collection of those tiny tourist spoons you can buy when you go to Niagara Falls or Baker--home of the world's largest thermometer--California. We also found an illustrated dictionary of . . . SCIENCE! And there were school pictures of two African American kids about age 10 and age 12, wearing 1987ish clothing. Random scraps of construction paper, colored pencils, and highlighters rounded out the treasure trove.

The attic of mystery is no more. It has been replaced by a well-organized storage area surrounded by puffy pink fairyland. Math tells us it will pay for itself in about four years so I guess that means we're sticking around for a while. Or whatever.

Feeling feverish

I keep seeing new baby pictures, announcements, blogs, even "I'm in labor" posts on facebook. Some from good friends, some acquaintances, and a few complete strangers. Congratulations, all you people! Anyway, all the excitement has got me thinking about baby #2. Thus has been my progression since having Little A:

0-3 months: I am never having another baby
3-6 months: Okay, maybe some day
6-9 months: Little A needs a sibling, but if I got pregnant right now I would cry A LOT
9-12 months: Finally getting the hang of this. Think I might not cry too much if I got pregnant now with the next kid.
12-15 months (aka now): Um, okay, so when can we start?

It doesn't hurt that Little A is finally sleeping through the night as of a couple weeks ago. Don't pity me about that, though. It's been totally under control since six months (just one wake-up to eat . . . usually) and I felt really good about how her sleep progressed. But still, I do like the idea of being able to sleep ridiculous amounts of hours if/when I get pregnant, so I am very glad we got to this point. Little A is also so fun now! She's a little giggling monster and she says really cute things.

The only thing that worries me, internet, is having another early winter baby. It's depressing. So, for now, everyone else keep having babies and I'll keep being excited for you.

When you're strange

So, there's a character from the show Lost (in case you don't know) named Daniel Faraday. He's the tortured genius that often has an intense quizzical expression like this:

He's definitely socially awkward, though also endearing. Lately my thinks-he's-hilarious husband has been cracking up on random occasions while I'm speaking and then telling me my mannerisms looks like Daniel Faraday's. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Well you married me, so you must love it.

I've always had a sneaking suspicion I might be a little strange. It comes up from time to time, especially when I attempt to have conversations with female acquaintances that I don't share a lot of common interests with. See, when that happens the conversation devolves into what happened on "The Bachelor" lately or some such thing. I'm not going to pretend I am somehow above "The Bachelor," as I've seen random episodes here and there. I mean it's kind of like a car wreck, right? Desire for Fame (the 18-wheeler) v. Self-Respect (the little Honda that could). But, even if I have seen the latest episode, I just can't muster the enthusiasm needed to have a satisfying conversation about the actual characters/reality stars/whatever. And I often can't come up with an opinion about the supposed "romance" aspect. I mean don't they always fly in a helicopter and then make out? How do I know who's right for who based on that? And I'm being serious here: I will even try--like really hard--to come up with an opinion and I just can't. So, the conversation derails or I say something unintentionally funny (I guess, though I won't know WHY it's funny) and anyway I quickly find myself on the outside watching other women converse.

So, yeah. I guess I'm Daniel Faraday, sans time-traveling or physics genius. It must just be sheer dumb luck that I got married, but I'll take it.

Valentine's Day Outing

I figured this post should be illustrated, but since I've taken no pictures of the subject matter, google images gives us this for "gratitude" (which I feel very much today):
I'm not sure where the painted rock craze started and I'm not sure I care, but this immediately reminded me of the rock I was given in my childbirth class, which I wrote on in permanent marker the words "Get into the sweetness," the origin of which is kind of a long story. Anyway this post is sort of aimed at a friend of mine that had her first baby a couple weeks ago and she knows the story, so I think I'll leave it at that. I think it suffices to say I pictured there would be some sort of zen moment during childbirth in which I rose above the pain, but I do not remember that happening those fourteen months ago. I also do not remember ever getting that rock out of my bag. Whatever. I do remember my beautiful baby.

This post is actually about this morning. This morning was one of the great moments I had pictured as being a part of parenting before I ever became a parent. Today is the first spring-like day of the year. Here's "spring thaw":
Little A and I went outside in regular clothes and light jackets to the common area behind our house. She walked on grass for the first time in her life. We've been outside this winter, but never on as nice a day, so she has normally been in the stroller. So, even though she has been walking for over two months, this is the first time on grass. Next year, friend with the two week old baby, this will be you. Then we went to the playground, again for the first time since she could walk. It was almost like the playground had never existed before since now she can explore it in a new way, not just because of the walking but because of her new identity as an outdoor explorer. Later we splashed in a puddle for the first time, which she eventually sat in and got her pants drenched. Kind of gross, but still awesome, yes? It was kind of like this, except messier. I'm sentimental, I know, but her shoes had never been wet and dirty before. As we walked around the whole area, following the drainage ditch to the other side of the neighborhood, I realized she had never walked that far before. She quickly learned how to walk on bumpy ground. We laughed and played, picked up leaves and rocks and things, and magically they were not stuck in her mouth but just examined, twirled. There is so much little girlness and also just general little kidness in her waiting to burst out.

A year ago it was hard to believe I would ever sleep again, or she would learn how to take a nap, sit up, crawl, walk. Newborn boot camp, amazing and wonderful and miraculous as it is, can sometimes feel like it is forever. I think this is especially the case with winter babies because it seems so long before you can even go outside. Today, when we walked in the house from outside and I took off both of our muddy shoes (and Little A's whole outfit) and then saw them sitting on the mat next to each other, I thought "this is perfect." And, "this day will never happen again," so that is why I wrote it down. Happy Valentine's Day and love to all.



p.s., This picture brings up another factoid: Little A planted her first kiss on a little 13-month-old baby boy yesterday. Right on the lips! Sadly, I was not there to see it, but I was told by LCD that it was the cutest thing ever. She's been a little flirt from the beginning, but what a vixen!

p.p.s, Of course LCD is my #1 Valentine but we've had enough gushing about him around here. He'll get his gushing in private.

Not slowing down for anything

Oh how I wish someone had been able to film Little A today at the mall play area! I myself was busy trying to keep her from getting a concussion. Another day perhaps.

Holy smokes she is a speed demon. A good caption for this theoretical film a la America's Funniest Home Videos (does that show still exist?) would be "outtamyway outtamyway outtamyway outtamyway outtamyway outtamyway outtamyway . . ."

Once she discovered the little play house with the little stairs leading to the little slide it was true love and (to borrow a phrase) she did not stop til she got enough. Round and around she flew, squeezing past all the other children, all of whom were bigger than her. This one poor toddler that seemed to be roughly in the same age bracket as Little A (between 1 year and 18 months) was slowly trying to work up the courage to go in the house while little a lapped her at the doorway a few times in a row. Luckily she was not a bully about it (it's hard to be a bully when you're under the 5% line on growth charts), she was simply a woman on a mission.

I could not persuade her to leave until a very apologetic three-year-old ran smack into her. Yoinks!!!

Recently an acquaintance from church who has more or less watched Little A grow up commented, "She didn't really like being a baby, did she?" And I had to say "Nope. Not really. But she loves being a toddler." I know she's only 14 months old but when that is your whole life it probably seems like a long time. I feel like she's been waiting her whole life to run.

p.s., I reserve the right to still call her a baby since she really still is one in a lot of ways.