Oh I love that baby
Also I need a decent camera
25 March 2011
24 March 2011
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.
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.
20 March 2011
19 March 2011
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?
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?
15 March 2011
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.
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.
10 March 2011
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.
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.
07 March 2011
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?
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?
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