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.

New Songwriting Challenge Up

Thoughts on SOTU

So, I mostly liked the speech a lot. And I thought the follow-up speech also made some good points, despite being delivered in a rather condescending way. Here are some thoughts I have an hour or so later as it's starting to sink in:

1. Obama's speech writer(s) is/are still awesome.
2. Rep. Ryan's forehead is insane.
I honestly started to just watch his forehead I was so mesmerized.
3. I agree with Obama that at this point we should focus on reforming the health care bill, not repealing it (and definitely not unless they have a viable replacement--that would be completely asinine).
4. I agree with Ryan that the deficit/debt is the most important issue and that Obama may be trying to do too much.
5. That said, Obama's ideas for investment are spot-on if and when we can afford them.
6. I do not fully trust either of these dudes, but Ryan's smugness turned me off more than Obama's wild-eyed dreaming. I really don't like smugness in others, probably because it reminds me of my least favorite thing about myself.
7. I don't quite understand the phrase "spending freeze" in the case of the federal government.
8. I also don't understand how lower taxes and lower national debt are compatible.
9. All things considered, I actually feel slightly more confident that our elected officials are not going to let the country completely go to hell than I was before tonight, so I guess that's a win for everybody.
10. My biggest hell yes moment was this, from Obama's speech: "Every day, families sacrifice to live within their means. They deserve a government that does the same." Seconded by this a minute later: "I'm willing to eliminate whatever we can honestly afford to do without. But let's make sure that we're not doing it on the backs of our most vulnerable citizens."

I have more reactions/ideas, but this is as good a stopping place as any.

New to my rekkid collection

I've been slowly but surely adding to our record collection. I recently found this used record store and my awesome husband got me a bunch of LPs for Christmas. Then, right after Christmas we went to the store to try and get rid of some of the random records we had inherited from the same coworker of LCD's (all hail her name--except I can't remember it) that gave us the record player. So, little a and I have varied our listening to include other pop/rock albums than just Thriller. In case you didn't read my post of like a million years ago, we do still have a random collection of world music.

One of the records I picked up in our most recent jaunt:



I honestly was not sure why I had ever heard of this band, but I knew I had. Plus, little a needs more exposure to lady rockers and at least their lead singer is a woman. It turns out they sing a really annoying song from the eighties that you may have heard called "I Know What Boys Like." However, there is more to them than just that song. Not a lot more, I'll admit-- but more. I am still undecided as to whether I like them on the whole, but they are kind of fun new wavey punky and this song (embedding was disabled on YouTube, so I guess you have to really want it to go all out and click) I personally find to be completely charming.

It reminds me of some more recent indie female vocalists that have the cutesy talky little girlish thing going on, but with a dash of Joan Jett attitude.

Oh, fun fact I just found out googling these guys. The album I have was never released on CD. My vinyl copy would be a collector's edition . . . except that it got released on itunes a couple years ago.

OK, so it was worth it...

Six seasons of LOST in about six months, that is. LCD and I bonded trying to understand what the heck was going on. And, even though there were lots of little annoyances along the way, there were also lots of things that were brilliant, funny, touching, heartwrenching and just plain cool. The ending was about 99% satisfying to me, though I did wonder if it would be less satisfying to others depending on . . . well some stuff (I don't want to give anything away to people like me that did not see the show during it's TV run). I loved the vast majority of the final episode and did in fact bawl like a baby through sections of it. Ah, sweet catharsis. I'm trying to get LCD to read The Brothers Karamazov with me next for our joint enlightenment project. I already know what happens in that book but it HAS been a long time and it is a candidate (he he) for my favorite book ever.

What to do with nine six-year-olds

My new "calling" (aka job) in church this year is to teach the six-year-olds. They really are awesome kids, but there are NINE of them and not a one of them is the quiet type. So far the class goes:

chaos
order
chaos
order
chaos
order
brilliant insight! who are these kids?
chaos
order
chaos
order
chaos
order
what is this child yammering about?
uh...
wait, is she still talking or did I just pass out?
chaos
order
chaos
order
wow, they get it!
order still!
and . . . chaos
order
chaos
or- no wait, more chaos
phew, their parents are here to get them!

When I get to the end I am left wondering "did I do that right?" But, hey, I figure they're still alive. How bad could it be?

Five Years Ago Today...

It was an unseasonably warm Friday, the 13th of January, and I had plans to hang out with a friend I had known for a few years who I didn't normally spend that much time with. Still, he was the kind of guy I could call up every few months and ask if I could borrow his PA equipment, or if he wanted to go to an open mic with me, or to come over for game night, and he would almost certainly oblige unless he was genuinely busy. He was also the type of guy that would never come empty-handed to a party. In short, he was "good people."

When he got to the house to pick me up we stood around outside for a while, basking in the surprise gift of summer in January, and talking about how perfectly the weather matched with the eeriness that is Friday the 13th. In the car, he had cheesy 80's music playing out of a tape deck and I think I made some crack about how eerie it was that we had been transported back in time. We had fun that night just being normal. We ate donuts, which he paid for and I wondered for a brief second if we were on a date, but, seriously? Donuts? That cost a dollar? Not a date.

Then we went to the pool hall/club/joint his friend's band was playing at, where he also paid for a table. Hmm. I beat him at pool on a technicality and soon the band was playing. They played danceable tunes and I like to dance so I was kind of movin' in my seat when random dude comes up and asks me to dance. I looked at my friend as if to say, "Are we on a date or what?" and received a shrug, so I got up to dance with the guy. And, yes it was awkward, but I made it work and soon my friend joined us on the dance floor and it got back to normal again. And we had fun. Everything was shiny and happy and NOT nervous.

I remember chatting constantly on the way back in the car and the feeling coming over me that this is definitely a date and I started to feel excited. I told him about Antony and the Johnson's and how he had to come inside and listen to this one song when we got back. And he did. And we talked about doing this whole thing again sometime. It was the most comfortable sort of happiness.

Come to think of it, I've still got that comfortable happiness. Dang, I'm lucky.

Shame me all the way to the clearance rack

I know new year's resolutions are so eleven days ago, but I have one that's been sort of percolating under the surface (picture a bog here with a little hiccupy bubble) that I keep squashing back down (with a rubber mallet, maybe?) because--well--I'm a little embarrassed. It's not as important as my goals to write more fiction/music or get in shape or focus more on spirituality or even to have more fun, but it might help a bit in the confidence-to-make-things-happen department.

You see, I want to be more stylish. Yet, I still want to maintain a very reasonable budget. I'll be honest: I want to spend very, very little but get away with it by making good, classic choices and using interesting but versatile accessories.

There, I said it. The shame. Anyway, pointers are much appreciated if anyone stylish happens to be reading this. I'm not above garage sales, thrift stores, and the like. I've just had a hard time finding much in my size in the past.

Back to Livin'

This year's theme. Not exactly brilliant, but that's exactly why it's so necessary. I feel like the bulk of 2010 was a throwback to my first year in grad school: ten. years. ago. Yeah, I'm old. But to be fair to myself, I was a 22-year-old grad student.

How was it like grad school? I learned a lot, failed a lot, grew a lot, felt like giving up a lot, and survived, ready to kick some serious ass in year two. And, as it turns out, I rocked year two of grad school, so I expect to do the same with year two of parenting, in which I branch out and start livin' again. That means more creativity, better health, more playtime, and more confidence of course. Also, Little A is going to be cake this year.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

OK, gotta go.

Baby's Best Friend X 2

Little A had the time of her life chasing my parents' dog around over Christmas. He's the perfect baby dog since he's sweet, old, and very experienced with kids (having gone through Little A's four cousins' assault). Every morning she would wander around looking for the dog calling "woof, woof" (well, minus the "f") and excitedly point at him over and over, shouting "dog" (minus the "g") when she found him. I'm kind of sad for her now that she doesn't get to see him every day anymore, but not sad enough to go out and buy a dog or anything. Here she is rocking her new party dress with the old guy.


Her other best friend chose her. Here she is:

Cousin L, my brother's three-year-old, spent a lot of time following Little A around, hugging her and speaking to her in a high-pitched voice that I'm guessing some older folks couldn't even hear. Actually, I'm kind of looking forward to being too old to hear it myself. She was a very attentive cousin and very sweet and Little A endured well the invasion of her personal space. In fact Little A's eyes lit up when we saw this picture and she said something sort of almost approximating Cousin L's name.

Little A also got in some playtime with Cousin K, who is only 6 months older than her, though they did not quite become best friends due to their competition. Maybe next time.

Solstice Again

I swear it is always winter solstice. Okay, not really. Only on winter solstice do I feel that it is always winter solstice. In fact, I was sure that I had posted a winter solstice blog for every year I have been blogging; that's how sure I was that solstice was omnipresent. It turns out I only referred to it twice since 2004 and only once did it have its own post. In both posts I referred to it as a "hopeful" time, I think in order to convince myself. Otherwise I would probably call it Depression Awareness Day. But, I am completely okay with saying things are cool in order to convince myself that things are indeed cool. How about:

1. "Fake it til you make it"
2. "Be the change you want to see in the world"
3. "Smile and the whole world smiles with you"
4. "Hope is believing despite the evidence and watching the evidence change"

Snappy as they are I like these quotes because they give you something to do when it seems everything's gone to hell. Hey, at least there's more sunlight every day now. Bonus points if you know who said any of these without googling.

And now . . . Christmas!

See you guys on the plane. We will be the ones with the screaming baby. Would you like to borrow my ipod loaded up with the top 25 songs of the year, via All Songs Considered? Sorry, dude, that's as loud as it goes.

LCD's Rock and Roll Show!

This post is empty because I wasn't there, due to illness. Boo hiss.

Flashback December

So the other day, the baby and I were listening to my "It's a Cool, Cool Christmas" cd and this song--of all songs--made me tear up:

Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas by Eels (This link is weird, but I'm too lazy to find a better one)

(By the way, hyperemotionality is apparently a side effect of having babies. And of getting older. So, it's not my fault that "E" really got to me.)

Let's just say last Christmas with our wonderful/fussy/sleepless newborn was tough. I can certainly imagine tougher Christmases, but for us it was hard enough that we declared December 26th a do-over Christmas day as we had not managed to do a single thing to celebrate Christmas on the 25th. Later that week we found out little A had acid reflux and colic (whatever that is) and it all started to make sense.

December, so far, has been the month of flashbacks for me. I'm remembering the beauty of my precious newborn and I'm remembering how agonizing that first month was. But, also, it was kind of sacred in a way. I feel like my whole being was carved out from the inside to make room for this new mommy person.

Anyway, this Christmas is gonna rock.

Also, LCD wants me to share this song with my many readers as well:

Cakeface

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3

We survived the year!

I felt like today was a little microcosm of the last year. Maybe that's not the right way to explain it. But anyway, our lovely babe's behaviors and experiences seemed to follow the pattern of the last twelve months all in one day. Words are failing me because I'm tired and I have no blogging pride.

The first couple hours today were rough. The poor baby has a cold, has been constipated for a couple days and is cutting some new teeth. She spent a lot of the time crying in the morning. It was reminiscent of the newborn Little A. Except for the part where I skillfully met her needs, distracted her when possible, and held her calmly when there was nothing else to do. I have a year of round-the-clock experience, so--you know--I'm pretty good now.

By the end of the day she was having so much fun. It turns out she L-O-V-E loves cake. She absolutely destroyed her piece and experienced her first sugar high, which--I'll be honest--is not that different than her normal everyday behavior. She kept crawling up and down the stairs and then returning to the living room to open each of her gifts, walking like Frankenstein across the floor from the stairs (it's hilarious). She was totally into the decorations and balloons (new word alert: balloon = boo) and she got very excited about one of her toys:



In case you missed it, she really really really likes dogs. Good pick, person that is not me. Man she is so cute. I love her so much. In case you care I am planning to post some pics and videos later after I get them all uploaded and such.

Yes, we had an anniversary

Since I already posted the mushy stuff and wrote a 4 page letter re: the details of how we met for LCD (since his memory of such things is for crap), I think I can keep it simple and say that I feel ridiculously lucky that I am in one of those marriages that actually got even better after the baby was born. I foresee year four continuing the trend of getting better all the time*.

I am thrilled that I get to keep him forever.


* It occurs to me that year two of dating was sort of excruciating at times (when it felt like all our foibles were under a microscope) and that may be why marriage has been so awesome.

Babies are funny

Yesterday, Little A pointed at my cell phone and said "baby" (her newest word, I think). At first I started to say, "Actually sweetie that's a phone," but then I looked at my phone and noticed there was a picture of her as my wallpaper. Har har. She is a baby after all.

Let it be known that babies generally know what they are talking about. So, instead I said "that is a baby. I know her. Do you know her? Is that Little A?" No response.

So Little A knows that she is a baby. But, does she know that she is her? Hmmmmmmm . . .

On another note, one year ago today was my official resignation from my job. I can't believe it's been a whole year. No wonder the money is running out (hahahaha . . . le sigh).

Thanksgiving Post

I feel like I owe the universe a Thanksgiving blog this year. Though one of the harder years to date, this year has been so jam-packed full of blessings it's not really even fair. I'm sort of overwhelmed with it all, actually, and I've got to get back to that turkey, so I'll just pick a few:

My husband: He is my true love. He is a better daddy than I had ever imagined my children would have. He is my best friend. He is the one that made that last post possible as he was with me every step. When I felt depressed and helpless after I had our sweet babe, he was the only person I could talk to without feeling like I had cotton balls in my mouth. I could say every word and I knew he heard it. I have thought often about how challenging the newborn time was but that I would rather have ten colicky babies than have to trade for a less supportive husband. (UNIVERSE that is NOT a challenge--totally cool with #2 being an angel baby.) Never did I expect I would be so blessed in the man department. He should probably get another dedicated post next week when we turn three, but I will try not to gross my 3-4 readers out too much.

My ANGEL baby: Okay so she may not fit the common description of angel baby = EASY and content, but she is absolute fun and sweetness and delight. She shows me every day how fantastic it is to experience everything around us. One of her most frequent words recently is "wow." She has so much love in her. She smiles at almost every person she sees. Everyone is her friend. It's contagious too: I find myself smiling at strangers. I wish it could stay that way. She is JOYFUL. She also teaches me how to be a mom. I wasn't sure I was ready when she came (though I was very excited), but she has made me ready. She is an incredible gift.

--BREAK for FEASTING ---------------

The feast was wonderful. Everything went well. The turkey was flavorful. The twenty bazillion hour gravy was very tasty but salty. The sidedishes everyone brought were superb. And the cranberries were maybe the best part. (Side note: I made cranberry cream pie and had a bit of a fit the night before during the crust rolling which I hate and am terrible at. My husband promised we could buy a crust next time. Of course then we ate the pie and homemade crust is so delicious. Maybe next time LCD can try rolling the crust?)

-----------------------------------

More thankfulness:

Insight: Not mine, usually, but the insight of others has made my life so much better this year. For example, my sister-in-law that I very rarely talk to, packed up and sent her electric breastpump (don't worry, it was the Ameda, which is the only one that is really considered okay to use and pass on) with my Mom when she came out last December. Boy, did I need that thing. And how about my younger brother that just rocks at keeping things in perspective and sharing little bits of wisdom almost every time I talk to him? Or whoever it was that mentioned what kind of sippy cups worked really well for their kid? Once my daughter learned to drink out of one there was finally hope for her not being constipated all the time, poor babe. These are just a few random examples. I feel like I have lived by the insight of others this year.

Is there more?

The year in milk production

In a couple weeks I earn my golden ta-tas for one year of service. I'm sure plenty of people will think this comparison is ridiculous but I feel almost like a deployed soldier. Motherhood itself is very much an "in the trenches" activity--or it can be. How a mommy feeds her baby, specifically, seems to be such a personal thing and a journey of self-discovery for so many of us mommies. I would never judge any mom that ended up making different choices than I did re: what to feed her babies (assuming it's relatively healthy of course), but for me I feel like I've really earned the right to say "I can do hard things."

For some moms, maybe breastfeeding was the easy part. For others maybe it wasn't the thing for them or they weren't able to do it--I guarantee to you that I would not have managed it if I had gone back to work full-time as I am not a good pumper. I know for some, their journey of self-discovery includes them having to make the gut-wrenching decision to stop trying to swim upstream, that it is best for their baby and family to formula-feed. But, this is my blog, and for me breastfeeding was both very difficult AND the right thing to do.

At the hospital the nurses said, "You're doing everything you're supposed to. I don't know why it's not working. Just keep trying, I guess?"

Then the one lactation consultant said, "You may just not be able to breastfeed."

But the other one said, "You've definitely got something (colostrum) in there. Don't give up. Try this," and then she would forcibly shove my newborn's face against me and MAKE IT WORK. She was kind of nuts, but she was also the one that gave me hope. I needed that hope when I was waiting 7 or 8 days for my milk to come in (for the uninitiated, that's late).

Next came the endless (baby) crying and the doctor saying she had lost more than 10% of her birth weight and we would have to supplement after feeding. Oh noes. The books I read said supplementing was the beginning of the end for breastfeeding. I was, of course, distraught. It's very easy to become distraught when you are a new mom.

Well, not so, says the lady two weeks shy of the one year mark for breastfeeding (ahem: me). Sometimes your baby just needs a little extra help to live. And sleep. And grow. You might still be able to feed them 80-90% of what they need (or maybe not, but you gotta do what you gotta do).

So marathon feedings, and colicky baby, and acid reflux, and supplements (first after every feeding day and night and eventually consolidated), and mastitis x 2, and mommy's depression, and squirming, wriggling, distracted, and how-could-I-forget biting baby, and how can it be worth it? How can still waking up at 5 am every morning for the early morning feed be worth it at this point? I'll be honest: possibly the biggest motivator this whole time has been the fact that I am cheap. We only ever had to buy two things of formula (hooray for free samples), so score one for the cheap lady. And yes there is that magical moment at 5 am, or 2:30 am if that's when she's feeling it, when the baby smiles at only her mommy while the world sleeps, and that is pretty neat too. Okay it's really neat.

I recently read an article about how breastfeeding moms need more support to be successful. There's no doubt it would be a lot easier for would-be-breast feeders if pumping at work was encouraged rather than simply allowed (and then only if you can make it fit into your meeting schedules, etc., and oh yeah possibly in the bathroom stall). And if lactation consultants were covered by insurance and easy to find (maybe at the pediatrician's office!).

But the bizarre thing to me about the article were the angry comments from one mom to another. This first year of new baby is hard enough without the judging, or the even more prevalent judging the judgers (huh?). I try to just ignore this oddly vindictive/defensive back-and-forth and focus on the fact that I did what I thought I could not and I am a stronger person and mom for it.

I think just about every mom can say that about something. I am sure that my own mom can. She can also say that she stood by me as I became a mom for the first time, during the fumbling, no-sleeping, clueless, helpless, energy-sapping, scary time post-hospital and pre-sanity return. I wonder if that was a "hard thing" for her. Maybe after raising four kids nothing is hard anymore. In any case, moms are awesome.

I sure hope I can be an awesome mom. Maybe little A will tell me so in about 31 years.

Mind: blown

I just found out someone I know now also knows a lot of the same people I knew twenty years ago! For the last nineteen years I have been wondering how my first fake boyfriend has been doing since he moved away when I was thirteen (he happened to have a disease that can drastically shorten your lifespan). It turns out he is doing fine. It might be weird that I care so much but I am actually thrilled to hear this.

One of his sisters was actually the first person I knew of that had the name of my now-daughter. Yup, the seed was planted a long time ago. I feel like everything has come full circle and am waiting for the final cosmic whatsit to hit the fan.

The Cap'n

To remember: My little babe called every animal at the farm/park we went to a "dog." She also gets so excited every time she sees actual dogs when we are out and about. She will continue to point to the spot we last saw a dog and say "dog" long after it has moved on. For some time she has been calling all round objects balls. At Halloween every time we saw a pumpkin she would point like a wild woman and say "ball! ball!" She is so excited about life. Oh, "ball" is also usually the first thing we hear her say when she wakes up in the morning. So maybe she dreams of them? Let's see: loves dogs, dreams of balls. Pants when excited. Maybe I gave birth to a puppy instead of a baby.

I love her.

I love November

I was expecting to hate this month. I get really anxious about the darker days and being stuck inside, especially considering how depressed I was last winter ( = clinically so). But it has been lovely so far: sunny and not too cold and just beautiful and crisp with autumn all around us. I have played outside with my baby the last three days in a row and plan to keep it up. Also... baby swimming lessons started! And we are hosting Thanksgiving and I'm excited to get my hands on a turkey. I feel like we've just mooched for the past many years and I spend most of Thanksgiving standing around like a doofus. Not this year. Oh yeah, and who could forget HP7? Finally, I am thinking about little A's first birthday. We're not really doing a party but it just feels like such an accomplishment to have survived the year and have a happy baby to show for it. She's so happy lately!

Here's hoping December, January, and (ugh) February can keep being awesome.

Ker-splat

She's learning how to walk. What a battle it is. She's got chin scrapes, bumps on her forehead, random red spot under her eye. Poor baby. But she battles on, with that enormous head of hers. Okay it's not that enormous--it's just above average. However, her body is now like 10th percentile or so. Basically, she's got a 12 monther's head on a 6 monther's body. So . . . bonk. Bam. Ker-splat.

Here's another picture just for fun:


I'm sneaking in this last one several days later because I don't think we've showed off her teeth yet. Ta daa:

My brother is awesome

Sometimes it has to be said. He is currently sharing his 2007 spoken word/musical Christmas album online at his blog real love. real muscles. Since none of them are traditional Christmas songs or stories you can listen to them now without being sickened. I recommend "The Time I Fell Into the Toilet on Christmas Eve." He is "in the studio" working on a 2010 Christmas album; I'm sure it will be a fantastic soundtrack for this year.

Oh beware that the song "Its Christmas" can remain stuck in your head for months. You may want to wait on that one.

It's just the way I -role

That may be the dumbest pun ever.

I have recently volunteered to be in charge of organizing a bunch of women (now that I think about it I'm not sure why we can't invite men too--I'll get on that) to prepare hot meals for a homeless/unemployed/what-have-you services center once a month. It's really not a big deal and I really dig being at least somewhat involved in the community. I was much better at it when I was single and childless. Especially when I was underemployed and pennies away from becoming homeless myself. So I'm trying to get back to that part of myself. Meanwhile, I am learning a whole new genre of cooking known as the casserole.

People cringe at the word and I'm pretty sure it's considered all kinds of lame and 1950's housewife, but there is a time and a place for everything. And lest ye be confused I am at best an "adequate" housewife, so I don't think LCD is going to stop cooking West African, Indian, Thai, etc. anytime soon. I had made maybe two casseroles in my life before this new development, though I'm headed for number four in about a week. The thing is it's actually kind of awesome how stinkin' easy these things are. Gourmet they are not (generally). Nor are they interesting and ethnic. But I find myself actually getting excited to try a good macaroni and cheese recipe. Yes, this is what I am becoming. Pretty cool, huh?

This month we are making one of the longest-lived American casserole recipes in existence: The Tuna Noodle Casserole. My friends, we are talking about pasta, canned tuna, and peas as the main ingredients. You better believe I am making one for the homeless people and one for us. Peas are by far my baby's favorite vegetable and here is a chance to really make them sing.

A year from now I may or may not be the Casserole Queen. I'm leaning towards "may not" buy I'm leaving "may" out there as a possibility. These days anything is possible.

into the spirit

Kinda spooky, eh?

Here it is on the porch.
This is what we do while the child sleeps. I also cut myself with gigantic knives, that's how good I am (don't worry--not serious).

communication

I know this is mostly a mom-blog now, but I don't really care. Babies are far more fascinating than most jobs, politics, tv shows, craft projects (ha ha--like I do craft projects), etc. forever. We did make the most delicious butternut squash soup last night, though, so we are appropriately fall festive in case you were wondering. Oh man, it was good. Stole the recipe from this woman at church.

But the topic for today is communicating with babies. Ignorant me, I thought I would definitely know when little a said her first word. Did you see the episode of Modern Family where Lily keeps saying "mama" and her gay dads have a meltdown and then it turns out she is just repeating what a doll says? Yeah, and she just crawls around silent the rest of the time saying nothing.

That is not what happens.

Little a talks constantly, so it's hard to know when she is really saying a word. If she says "babababa" all the time, then she picks up a ball and says "ba," did she just say ball? If she says "mamamamamama" all the time and when I say "Do you want to come with mama?" she repeats "mama," did she really just say mama to mean me? And if she says it when she's tired and cranky but she doesn't actually look at me, does it mean she wants me or does it just mean "Hi, I am tired and cranky?" It's all about the context clues, I guess. She definitely says something close to "bye bye" (though really it's somewhere midway between "ba ba" and "bye bye") and she often waves her hand when she says it, but does she really get that she is saying "goodbye" or "I'll see you later?" I guess if I have to pick her first word it probably is "bye bye" and if I have to make the call I do think she really is saying "ball," but the jury is still out on both "mama" and "dada," both of which she says often enough and sometimes at appropriate moments, but it is unclear whether it is on purpose.

The cool thing, though, is no matter what she actually says I am getting better and better and telling what she means. Often she'll point or just look longingly at something and when I get it for her she gets a big grin on her face. Success! We have basic cave man communication. It's different than just reading her signs. It feels much closer to talking. Sometimes I can even get HER to do stuff, which is the truly amazing part. I can say "give that to mommy" the oft-loved "no, don't touch" or "get the bear" (pointing) and it actually happens. I think she is happier because of all this, because we sometimes get each other.

Feel free to share anything on babies and communication, if you want.

all of THE sudden

Almost five years into our relationship and I still get made fun of by LCD for saying it "all of the sudden" instead of "all of a sudden." I will never change and I am not sure whether the giggles and/or ridicule will ever stop. Note to LCD: If you think you're ever going to shame me just because I say a phrase the way I learned it at age 4, you can kiss my butt. I will also continue to say kiss my butt.

This is the stuff awesome marriages are made of.

Please vote in the songwriting challenge

But not for me. Unless you really think my song is THAT awesome. See, I'm a little worried that there may have been a biased vote or two in the current songwriting challenge and I want to be sure that the winner (maybe me) actually deserves it. So we need more voters that are not going to just go straight for the pity/friend vote. You guys won't coddle me, right? Yes, I'm talking to the three of you.

Anyway, check out the music over at songwriting challenge

And I'll be honest: the entries are not really as good as usual. But they're not too bad either. And there are only five of them!

Thanks, kiddos.

Life with 10 month-old...

rocks. Seriously, all the newborn colicky crap was worth this time hangin' with my sweet, fun, social butterfly. Last night we went to this delicious Afghan restaurant down the street and she made friends with absolutely everyone there. She even got one of the waitresses she had been eyeing to come pick her up by holding her arms out toward her. She freakin' loves almost everyone. (If she does not love you, I'm sorry. Either you are evil or the whole thing is completely random.)

She has all kinds of fun new tricks to entertain: clapping, hugs, waving bye-bye, (sometimes even at the right time and ba ba is morphing into an understandable "bye-bye"), high-fives (okay, a little coaching needed), and she laughs all the time. I haven't hung out with babies a whole lot in my lifetime, but she is definitely the most energetic and social one I have seen in a while or maybe ever. And yes this means a LOT of chasing her around. A LOT. Seriously, she almost never stops and plays in one place. But I will take the chasing, gladly, over the hours of crying from yestermonth. If only I could permanently fix her pain-in-the-butt (literally) digestive system, it would be pretty much constant joy. Oh well, opposition is necessary in life. Oh, and I think we might just have our drummer. She loves hitting things with other things, especially with sticks and stick-shaped objects. When we head to the basement she always wanders over to our drum set and starts banging on the bass drum.

Columbus Day photos...

We went to Homestead Farm


to go apple picking


and find the perfect pumpkin.


The baby hung out in the pumpkins for a while, examining the choices, playing with ladybugs

and watching daddy take pictures.


When we got home we decided to enjoy the fruits of our labor. We also made a pie that was pretty tasty.

And if those pictures weren't cute enough for you. Look at my sweet laughing baby:

Can you see her two tiny teeth? They aren't quite all the way up yet but they are enough to sort-of kind-of bite into an apple.

Yes, I was going to stop blogging, but it is too good a way to chronicle things. Instead, as a start, I am disallowing myself from reading blogs of people I have never met.

I think I hate Glee now

It was funny and cute at first and Jane Lynch was great. But, each time I drag myself back to Hulu to see how the show is going, it seems worse. The most recent Brittany Spears-a-thon was maybe the most ludicrous plotline I've ever seen on a single episode of a television show. The vast majority of the musical numbers were supposed to be Brittany Spears fantasies on nitrous oxide? Actually that makes it sound a lot better than it was; that could have been clever. But it wasn't. Just a bunch of rehashed music videos. Gag. Intersperse a few teenagers/adults acting weird and pathetic and controlling (and not in sympathetic ways) and you have a serious waste of my time. Maybe I need to ditch TV again completely. Except Community. And maybe 30 Rock.

That baby on the plane?

The one who fussed or cried most of the flight with that pathetic/dramatic oh-the-world-is-ending-whimper whimper? That was our baby. She was so so tired but just could not find the right position to sleep in. Believe you me she tried everything: on mommy, on daddy, on both, scrunched up, stretched out, on her tummy, on her back, on her side, legs hanging off the seat, head hanging off the seat, and every variation in between. Also there was that low fever she had, controlled somewhat by the Mexican Tylenol. She had two new little teeth to show for it. Aren't you proud, random stranger?

And anyway, isn't she cute?





See, that makes it all okay.

Everything is Sentimental

Seriously. I mailed off my quarterly estimated taxes today and it was like "Wow. I am Self Employed. How did I get here?" [insert ruminations and ponderings]

Yesterday, Little A and I went on a walk in the early evening. It was the most perfect day ever: one part early fall crispness, one part late summer eve warmth, blue sky with feathery clouds breaking across it, zero humidity, much ahhhhhhh. It was a long walk.

As we walked I started to think about her as a teenager. Then I thought about myself as a teenager and how I wasn't very good at it. I spent most of my time waiting for it to be over. To my credit I did stop this habit once I got to college. College I loved and embraced as the first thing that had felt real in a long time.

But, this is not what I want for Little A. True, there was some benefit to me being more or less the impartial observer through my teenagedom. I learned a lot; I wrote it down, my life "wrapped up in books." But then again, when I actually HAD to do something instead of just watch and wait, I behaved quite stupidly. Behaving stupidly is definitely a rite of passage and Little A is welcome to it, but . . .

Mostly I just want her to live her life. I want her to be okay with who she is always.

I JUST WANT HER TO FEEL OKAY.

I was pushing her in her stroller and remembering this one thing I did as a adolescent that I am ashamed of to this day. I didn't have any trouble avoiding the obvious pitfalls: drugs and sex and what-have-you. But I managed to be insensitive, crass, and disrespectful to a peer in a damaging way that may have affected him for the rest of his life. It also may not have--I just don't know. What I do know is that when I was thirteen a girl in the lunch line told me I was "so not pretty" and I never forgot it. Not that I have a complex about it, but it's there. So something I did when I was thirteen could have had the same result. I wrote a hurtful letter one time, partially because I had been hurt and partially to look funny and cool to others, but I took it too far. This was almost twenty years ago.

I should have been better than I was then. I really should have known. I had been smart enough to know how to hurt people and how to be hurt.

So as I pushed Little A yesterday I hoped that she could be better, stronger, more confident in herself so that she never felt the need to put anyone down. To disrespect them.

But when I thought about it some more, I realized that maybe shame is a gift. Perhaps if we can feel shame it means we can feel love. As long as we know what to do with that shame it could be a good thing. As long as we can make something better with it. I mean there has to be a reason I have been remembering this one moment in my life so much at the same time that my capacity to love has been increasing.

When I look at my daughter and see the road of her life spread out before us I know I want to be there with her through all of it (okay, meaning the childhood part). I want to hold her when she feels the sting of rejection. I want to show her what we can become from what we are. Even if what we are isn't so awesome all the time. Mostly I want her to live courageously.

Yes it's very sentimental, but such is life.

SICK

Everyone in my family (yes I'm talking about three people) has been getting sick lately. Today it's both me and the bebe. So, naps for everybody! Just hopin' we're all cured for the upcoming trip.

getting it right

I finally participated in one of those political polls/surveys over the phone tonight while getting dinner ready and frankly it was fascinating. I had kind of a hard time with it because I'm a moderate mostly and all the questions were either/or. I found myself saying things like "well, it's not the simple." Or "both of these answers are wrong." I would even start to explain myself and then realize the person I'm talking to is more or less a specialized telemarketer. They're just reading the questions on the screen in front of them. "Can I do a write-in answer?" I asked once. Most of the time the woman would just repeat the question when I said anything other than a one-word answer and I'd either say "fine, I'll just go with X" or -- a couple times -- "I guess I just can't answer this question." I know it's just a poll, and of course they have to keep it simple to make any kind of statistical sense, but I could not help feeling just a little . . . cheap. Is that weird? It's probably a personal problem.

After the straight political section they asked me a whole lot of questions about the role of religion in politics and I think I had an even harder time. One question was whether I think what makes a person religious is a) their faith and beliefs or b) how they live and what they do. I was floored that this was even a question. "Definitely both," I said. "In exactly equal proportions." She just sighed and repeated the question. "I'm sorry but that's the best I can do." If I wanted to get into it I could say that if you truly have faith you will live it, but this is a multiple choice test--no essay questions--and faith without works is dead.

So then after dinner my daughter and I went upstairs for bathtime and while I was filling the tub and looking away from her for a couple seconds she unrolled half a roll of toilet paper and was just so excited that I couldn't help but laugh. After the bath we hung out in the hallway and she stood and held onto the bars of the gate at the top of the stairs and shook it and looked at me, smiling. I started to laugh and she started to laugh and then we were both laughing harder and harder because it's contagious. And later we both sang in the car on the way home from a baby shower. Then last of all I carried her upstairs for bedtime and she clung to me with ferocious affection (she's starting to really *HUG* now) and I patted her back and leaned her head onto my shoulder and kissed her goodnight and laid her down and said I love you. Then I came into the office to write this, about how I love being a mom and how I'm really starting to get it right.

If she were an embryo, she'd be born by now . . . or something

So. This baby has now spent more time living in the world than living in my uterus.


And while she's got a lot more learning to do about living in the world -- the last week has been a non-stop festival of "No, don't eat the plant(s)" including our second call to poison control -- I can definitely say that she l-o-v-e loves this place. She is a born explorer.

You know that phase everyone always says "isn't it the best" about? The one where the baby can sit and play with toys but is not mobile yet? Yeah, that did not happen in our house. Before she was able to sit on her own so that I felt like I did not need to sit behind her or right next to her she was lunging, reaching, rolling across the room -- aka exploring! Within days of her having the back muscle strength to sit on her own she was also army crawling. So yeah, "what phase?"

Now she's everywhere you don't want her to be. But she is the most fun ever.

I have recently become pretty sure that little A's personality type is the "spirited" baby. People have written many books to teach you how to parent such kids, and I may make use of them sometime, but for now I think she is doing a pretty good job teaching me. She's quite awesome at it.

From the beginning she was a lot of work for us. Of course since she's the first I just thought, well I guess babies are hard work--even moreso than I thought. Then we started getting these comments all the time: "Wow, she is really active," or "She's really excited/fussy/interactive/loud right now, it must be nap time/feeding time, right?" or "Is she always like this?"(answer: only when she's awake). So, I realize now that not every baby is so everything all the time as her.

And, though I have spent some time being a wee bit jealous of people whose baby sleeps through the night at two months, rarely cries, does not get into everything constantly, or even waits to show interest in crawling, etc., I love her so much for who she is (which is not any of those things). She is so much fun and interactive and such a charmer and I feel like she already knows herself. It's so cool to just watch her sometimes. The very thing that is pretty challenging about having kids is also the most wonderful thing: you just can't know what you're going to get. This baby is who she is. My job is to respect that and channel her energy for good. I actually feel very lucky to have this job. It is fascinating, inspiring, faith-affirming, and endlessly rewarding.

Edited to add stats for archival purposes or whatever:

The little shrimp is 26.5" tall (20%) and 15 lbs 11 oz (10%). She wears mostly 6-9 month clothes now but most are pretty baggy on her. She checks out on most of the milestones (crawling, standing, cruising) but they asked me at the Dr. if she plays pat-a-cake, which unless she taught it to herself is pretty unlikely. Haven't really been working on the all-important pat-a-cake skills so I suppose I'll have to step it up. Or give up as a mom.

eShakti: ridicul-awesome or meh?

So I ordered a dress. And I like it okay. Yup, just okay. I had read a bazillion random blog-reviews of eShakti and most of them were just so so glowing that I got really excited. But still in the back of my mind was a bit of doubt as I had seen the pics people took of themselves in the clothes and on average they were kind of ... well ... lackluster. Not bad, but just okay. However, the gushing. Just so much gushing I figured the pictures lied and people were just bad photographers.

On the plus side, the dress fits and it is pretty unique. I had them add sleeves and everything, so it's potentially one-of-a-kind. Oh yeah, back up a bit. That's the whole thing with eShakti. You can have them custom make clothes to fit your measurements and you can even customize sleeves, length, and sometimes neck style. A lot of the patterns they use are really stylish too, including some Anthropologie knock-offs. Anyway, it's a very, very cool concept. $70 for a tailor-made dress that maybe no one else has ($60 for off-the-rack sizing 0-26). Oh, and that's just the retail price. They have sales and a $15 off coupon. Definitely worth the occasional splurge, no?

I think where things go a wee bit wrong is in the fabric quality. The one I got just doesn't quite lay right and it's coarser than I thought it would be. So, fine for a summer-sun-dress-chillin'-on-vacation sort of thing, but not for dress-up when you want to look really swell. By the way, it's possible I just chose the wrong item. Perhaps "day dress" really does mean "yeah, don't try wearing this anywhere fancy and definitely not for a night out." If so, it's my problem.

Anyway, I'll post the pictorial tour after I get LCD to take some photos. I am keeping the dress as it will be useful sometimes and I can't get all my money back since it was tailored.