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.