Baby Going

Can I Get A

2010-09-15T21:58:00.001-07:00

WHAT WHAT?

www.heeandme.blogspot.com

I Miss This

2008-11-08T20:14:00.000-08:00

I thought I quit.

I may actually have quit, I'm not going to decide. I just think it's silly to keep writing baby going, when the baby has been replaced by the boy genius T and I live with. Sometimes it hurts to even hear the word baby these days.

Not often, but sometimes. See, we never really made up our minds about more babies. We would flip and flop, go back and forth and ultimately have the universe kick us in our teeth. The universe seems to think that we don't need teeth OR any more babies.

On October 17th I had an endometrial ablation and a tubal ligation. The non-reversible, burn 'em off kind of tubal ligation. My doctor shares the view of the universe in regards to babies and me. She also just wanted me to stop having suckthelifeoutofyou wonder if you need to go to the ER because you may be hemorrhaging periods that I've had for so long. She first suggested the procedure in June and brought it up again September after one of those disgusting, scary ER trips. So we decided to just do it. Okay, universe? WE GOT THE HINT. There are days when I think about never having another tiny person to cuddle and love and get it all the way right with, and there are days when I think about never having another tiny person scream at me for a reason I can't discern at all kinds of ungodly hours. So it goes.

Ultimately, I chose being my best self, my healthiest, strongest self for the two people that make waking up in the morning a great idea. I chose it, and I choose it.

I always will.

Hello, Slacker!

2008-08-22T08:27:00.000-07:00

What? I've been really busy.

The Boy:

Turned three! What the hell? Why does it go so fast? I can't believe how big-boy he is, how smart he is, how funny, etc. He can be counted on to go pee-pee in the potty at least 35% of the time, which is.... um, great. (Zen, I am zen). This summer, he went to a day camp program dubbed "big-boy school," and he loved it. In fact, I don't know which one of us loved it more, but everybody won, all summer long. He is starting pre-preschool on September 8, and he'll be going three days a week. Hopefully the fall routine will be as big a success as the summer one was.

The Author:

No complaints, here. I was able to work out with my old trainer this summer while John was at school which was so good for me. I'm trying to get healthier- I had a little wake-up call this spring in the form of an elevated cholesterol. With my genetic factor there is no way I'll be able to continue abusing food and drink the way I have without real consequences, so I'm really trying to rein it all in. I'm also trying to like it. It can't be temporary for me anymore, so I may as well find a real, workable way to eat. I still have my crazy job, though I'm not loving it quite as much. The store I started in was closed, so I transferred to a new one. It hasn't been long, and I usually hate all change, so maybe I'll love it again soon. I hope I do.

The Life:

All good. We've done so much stuff this summer! We lived at the pool, hit all the local outdoor attractions, saw some baseball games, (not the Cubbies, we're saving that for next summer), took a little city vacation. We're so lucky!

Ringing Endorsements

2008-05-09T18:39:00.000-07:00

Right. So, one month later finds our hero without his cast. He's running around like nothing ever happened, much like he did while the cast was on, really.

I don't know if I would have posted tonight without having the FUNNIEST VIDEO ever to share. I'm not feeling super bloggy lately. Perhaps it's the (mostly) nice weather, or that I am working part time now, and keeping up with the hip kids is so time consuming. I constantly need to sharpen my text-to-english translations, and listen to the intricate details of what happened at the club last night and why. It sounds like I am making fun of them. I am, but only a little, because they deserve it. I truly enjoy working with them though.

We haven't figured out how to manage my time away from the house yet. It seems like we don't have enough time together or enough time to keep the laundry done. I also haven't figured out how to stop adding to our laundry woes by not buying new things with my awesome! discount! Hint: It's not that awesome when it's been abused to the max. I've chalked it up to a steep learning curve, and have resolved to stopityoubigidiot. By you I mean me, of course. There is a lingering disappointment that I remain enamoured of all things material. And that the learning curve has to always be this steep. A fall from that high can kill you, you know?

Good thing that we have plenty of levity: Here is my beautiful, amazing, wonderful and hilarious Rowan. She's making her godmother REAL PROUD.

Boot. Purple. So?

2008-04-03T20:18:00.000-07:00

He doesn't miss a beat, this kid. It's so amazing.

Fractured

2008-04-02T11:56:00.000-07:00

His tibia, that is. He began to walk again late yesterday albeit with a terrible limp, right before our appointment with the ortho. Of course we went anyway. She watched him limp around for awhile, took a look at it and said that while she didn't need an x-ray to tell her what was wrong, she'd do it regardless. She was AWESOME. She instantly put me at ease- we've really been beating ourselves up this week for not knowing if we should push the walking issue, not knowing if we were coddling him, not knowing if his response to pain was entirely accurate. (It sounds really shitty to say that you wondered if your kid was faking it, but here you go: I WONDERED IF MY KID WAS FAKING IT). Sue me. The ortho told me that toddlers don't know how to fake it. They don't know how to limp or quit walking just for effect. So now I have something else to feel shitty about! Whew! I was worried I had run out of things.

So he picked purple from the ring of colors they showed him, and was pretty tough throughout the whole casting process.

He's already walking on it. He rules.

The Sprained Ankle Series

2008-03-26T20:59:00.000-07:00

Johnny sprained his ankle yesterday.

Here he is sporting a big ol' ace wrap and a smile:

We are doing ice and elevation, tylenol and fervent prayer that there are no breaks to his growth plate. I guess that wouldn't become apparent for 10 days or so. Meanwhile, I am reminding myself that his mobility really changed life in a good, good way. It is hard work to carry him around all day.

Not that he WANTS me to carry him, that I have to pisses him off, really. He hasn't figured out a way to get himself around without hitting a sore spot on the ankle, and it obviously hurts a great deal. It would be funny to watch him try to scootch around if it didn't cause him such pain and frustration. I'm glad it isn't broken, and that he didn't fall in a way that would have caused some other, scarier injury- but it still bites, let's be honest. When we got home from the ER last night, I totally thought he'd wake up and be fine this morning. HAH! He didn't. Do I think he will be magically fine tomorrow morning? Why yes, I do.

SHUT UP. It's called survival. There are only so many books we can read , leap pad buttons we can push, and shows we can sit around and watch. My boy likes to run around. This is hard on him.

A blip, but a hard one. Wish us luck.

Fabulous

2008-03-23T21:42:00.000-07:00

Guess what I did?

I GOT A JOB. A JOB, WHERE I WORK, AND THEY PAY ME. I work, at my job where I work.

I'm so freaking excited about my retail job, I could puke. You would puke if you saw my first paycheck, which I got on Friday- but I don't care! I have a job, where I work. Maybe they only sort of pay me, but STILL.

I should have done this such a long time ago. It is so nice to dress in clothes that won't be used as napkins/tissues/garbage receptacles for a whole four (or more)hours, and wear makeup and cute shoes. I spend four (or more) hours talking to other grown-ups. They aren't grown-ups that I have much in common with, because I am OLD but I still don't care. I leave the house, and I'm only in charge of myself! I don't have to take any diapers or sippy cups or tiny trains, cars, hats, strollers or snacks! I get to miss my boy for a little while, and this is a really good thing for us.

Whoo! Hoo!

In other news, it is Easter and Johnny has discovered a deep, unabiding love of jellybeans. His diaper tomorrow may look like an episode of Rainbow Brite. Hopefully I'll miss it, because I'll be busy. WORKING. At my job.

This week T was on vacation, and we had a lot of fun. We painted, cleaned the attic, went to IKEA. What? That is too fun. We also took Johnny to see Horton Hears a Who. He loved it. For about 28 minutes. Then he started whispering that he wanted to go home. He made it for another 30 before the yelling began. Then he leaned forward in the aisle, shouted "Looks at all these guys watching the biiiiig edaphant! That's kinda funny!" Then we left. Maybe next year he'll be ready for movies. It snowed all night on Good Friday, so there were no egg hunts outside for us, but T did hide a few in the house. If they didn't have jellybeans in them, they were a big ol' bust.

I spent a LOT of time cuddling baby Kathryn today. She is like a tiny little Ambien wrapped in an electric blanket. It was the highlight of the day. Tomorrow's highlights will likely include using the new bubble machine that the Easter Bunny brought for Johnny and convincing him that no, there aren't any more jellybeans in the house. Then? I'll be off to my job. Where I work.

Design Flaws

2008-03-07T20:10:00.000-08:00

We went to visit Baby Kathryn on Wednesday after our girlsitting duties were over. I sat in Jon and Ruth's house, looking at all the new-baby accessories, watching them take perfect and loving care of Kathryn and was reminded of what it felt like after Johnny was born.

Then I wanted to send Jon and Ruth to a hotel for two weeks after hugging them both VERY HARD. It is cruel that after waiting for so long to meet the tiny human being you created and carried in your womb you are the only one(s) not able to enjoy it. There is fear, worry and fatigue consuming you, hormones that make you rage and cry, and a nagging little voice in your head asking you why the hell you thought this was such a good idea, again? I told Ruth that in the beginning, I would get increasingly anxious as the day faded. With twilight came THE DOOOOOOOOOMS. Once the night got underway, I was able to soldier on- but that terrible feeling around 5 or 6 o'clock is one I'll never forget. She cried and told me it was like that for her too. I really want her to believe me that it passes but I never believed anyone who said that to me, so there you go.

It is funny, but while it gets so much better and so much easier I don't think the uncertainty will ever go away for me. I don't think the sudden crash into whatthehell land after spending so much time in heywe'vegotthislicked will ever stop shocking me. My buddy and I are really struggling lately. He has big ideas, big opinions and big emotions. There are many tears and much whining. Yesterday at playgroup he spent almost the whole time screaming, kicking and hitting me, jumping on furniture, throwing toys and just being a general nutjob. I should have packed us up and left, but I didn't- I kept engaging in a battle of wills. With my two and a half year old. Because I am wise and mature like that, apparently. We walked home after he kicked me in the gut during his 57th time out in less than two hours screaming and crying the whole way. While he napped, I picked up the chairs I had kicked over, and put the diaper bag back together because I had thrown it across the room. He didn't see me do those things. Cold comfort. Then I sat on the couch and cried my eyes out. For being so angry and so stubborn. For wanting to sit on my butt and talk to my friends instead of giving him the attention he clearly needed. For not trying hard enough to distract him. Oh, for a million things. Next time, we will leave if we struggle for too long. We'll make sure there is a tiny bit of grace in our exit. DUH.

So the challenges of parenting continue. Long past the first days, weeks, months, years. I know my mom and my aunts and uncles will tell me that decades don't diminish them, either. All I do know is that the dooms are gone. I love my kid, and nobody is grading me his upbringing. (Thank Christ).

It is better, it is easier. It is more than my pitiful vocabulary can convey. Wonderful comes to mind. Worth it.

Oh, a million things.

So. Tired.

2008-03-04T07:47:00.000-08:00

In 24 hours, maybe life will be back to normal.

I've been the stand-in for my sister-in-law since she went to Miami on Sunday morning. Johnny and I are staying with her two girls, and coordinating the how and when of their VERY BUSY lives. There is school, dance, volleyball, homework, proper meals, clean uniforms, showers and not a lot of sleep in between.

Johnny is having a ball- he loves his cousins. They have been super sweet and patient with him, too. I have learned that nothing eases the pain of a 6:30 am wake up like the sight of Johnny. He pads into their dark bedroom and can hardly stand the fact that it has been nine hours since he last saw them. "Hi, 'nina! Hi, 'nana! What're you DOING?" They go from grumps to giggles in 15 seconds.

The sleeping situation is less than ideal- we are staying up later than normal and waking up early. But I've decided that it is really good for me to shake it up once in a while. I can get pretty crazy about our schedule, and since we're not headed to NASA or the air traffic control tower at O'Hare in the mornings, so what if we're tired? We'll manage.

My sister in law does this mostly by herself. I've marveled at that fact several times so far this week. She's divorced, and while she shares custody with her ex, he's not very reliable. Hence the frantic, teary call asking if I could do this for her since he backed out. I've also been examining my own motivation this week. L (the sister in law), and I are not friends, in fact we just barely get along most of the time. I love her girls very much. They are great kids. I'm glad to be there with them, though I don't think they are totally comfortable with me. I know they miss their parents, and the familiar routine. Last night when T came by there was a recognizable change in the atomosphere- everyone seemed to exhale finally. I wish he could have been around more, but he has the flu, so he is barely upright.

I remember my childhood and how my own single mom seemed to have a lot of support. I don't think that L does. I'm sad for her and the girls if this is true. Everyone deserves to have a person they can rely on. If it weren't for my people I wouldn't make it for a minute, and I don't have HALF the commitments that L and her girls do. Now, I waste a lot of time and headspace on the fairness of things, wondering if people would do for me the things I do for them. This is a shitty way to live, and a habit I desperately would like Johnny to avoid. L wouldn't do this for me, she wouldn't do it for her brother either, which is a thing that makes me sad. But I would do it for her. I would do it for the girls. I hope someday Johnny will do it for his loved ones.

I also hope that L and I can repair some damage when she gets back. Walking around in her shoes for just this little bit of time has made me realize that what seeems like selfishness is maybe just survival.

On the Day You Were Born

2008-02-27T18:37:00.000-08:00

Here's the big guy waiting to meet Katie. We still didn't know she was Katie, which seems bizarre now.

Utter Devastation

2008-02-22T13:27:00.000-08:00

Oh. It physically hurts me to even tell this story

We recently made some upgrades to our little old computer- more memory and an external hardrive. Now, I'm not the most savvy PC user in the world. I didn't copy my files the the EHD, I moved them all there. All the pictures, the video, the audio. All the resumes, booklists, address labels. All of it.

Less than a month after these upgrades, the EHD exploded. All the moved data is gone.

Gone.

I know that they are just things. I am trying to keep a clear perspective on the importance of JUST THINGS.

More upsetting than the loss of these things, is the total injustice regarding the replacement of the EHD and the data recovery process. Let me tell you, it is apparently really ridiculous of me to expect either. Certainly not for free, anyway.

So, I spend a lot of money, lose all my data, and have NO RECOMPENSE.

That makes my head very hurty.

Oh My, Oh My, Oh Valentine!

2008-02-14T18:09:00.001-08:00

I am exhausted.

There were so many things I wanted to do for Valentine's Day. I made my BFF Jessica's cards, I made crayon hearts, decoupaged cards with cute pictures, made truffles and put them in cute little boxes, made jars full of Hershey kisses, with pretty bows and paper lids. Then, I decided to make the photo lines that I found here.

Whew! I think everything turned out nicely, EXCEPT that all the stuff I put on Jessica's cute cards fell off in the mail. Don't worry, I have since invested in a glue gun.

I stupidly didn't take pictures of all the cute stuff I did. I only took this one:

Love.

Happy Valentine's Day! I'd write more about my misadventures in making things, but my Valentine is impatiently waiting to start "Lost." I shouldn't keep him waiting.

Pretty Little Things

2008-02-09T09:25:00.000-08:00

Dear Jessica Jones, I love you. Reading your site has become a daily ritual of mine. I have recently decided that I want to make pretty things. The problem? I suck at it! I have little to no patience, no real skill, and not a lot of time.

But check this out:

I love them! I made them, and they don't look ridiculous or cheesy! Now, I use the word made pretty liberally, as I downloaded Jessica's pdf file that held the most important part. And mine are smaller than they are supposed to be, I think. I still love them, and want to send them to everyone I know. Or just attach them to every available surface of my home.

It was totally therapeutic. Did you know that there has only been 10 minutes of sunshine around here in the last month? These little cards are really making things brighter for me.

Thanks, Jessica! Let's be best friends!

Things That are Terrifying

2008-01-30T20:07:00.000-08:00

Oh, where to start.

My dirty counters. Thanks, Method!
The practice round of cupcakes for a baby shower next week. My mother referred to them as "cyanotic boobies." Nice.
That I PRACTICE cupcakes. Hey, too much free time! Hey, unfulfilled creative impulse! Hey, WEIRD, STEPFORD SELF. Jesus.
Pamphlet for pre-school. Pre-school. Pre-school? I was just pregnant five seconds ago.

T and I went to an orientation for new parents at a local school that offers Pre-3 programs. There is no public school option, so we are going a different route. The teacher seems great, the room looks very fun and safe. It is all fine. Except, he's my BABY. He's a teeny baby that I want home with me forever suddenly. I'm sure that T and the teacher wanted to either hug me or slug me while I kept talking about how I believe in respecting his limits, and how he'll be a young three and did I mention that he's my BABY, MY ONLY BABY.

Truly, it isn't a thing that will even start for seven more months. I just feel so unprepared. I just think that I need to remember how quickly this time when it was just us, just our routine, just our 3 person kingdom has gone. Seven more months.

Slap me if I wish them away.

Green(ery)

2008-01-25T18:41:00.000-08:00

Here is a not at all posed block tower fiasco for your viewing pleasure.

I'm so bummed out. I have let all my old, toxicish cleaning supplies run out so I could switch to the non-toxic, planet friendlier Method line. I was so excited to clean everything yesterday, using rags instead of paper towels, mops instead of Swiffers. It was cleaning taken to a whole new level- cleaning that would make the world better, too! Yayyyy, cleaning!

But here's the thing. I MISS my pine-fresh poison. It works better, and makes everything shiny and pretty. It allows me to walk into a room and be ASSAULTED by the ammonia freshness of it all. I am not going to rush out and buy the old stuff, I'm going to try and get used to the stuff that I now have. But I'm making the change kicking and screaming, and with not-so-shiny floors, countertops and bathrooms. I'd consider breaking in to my neighbors houses to get a sniff fix off of their Pine-Sol or Windex, but they use the crappy Method stuff, too.

Man, Kermit the Frog had it so right.

GRRRRR.

Always Okay

2008-01-18T18:04:00.000-08:00

I had it all planned out. I was going to write a big ol' whinefest about what a tough slog it has been here at Casa A since October. The miscarriage, the worse-than-we-thought shoulder injury and the subsequent time off T has had to take, the teeny little disappointments that have left fissures and fault lines all over our hearts lately.

But there is this. This time with our family. These laughs and miracles that remind me that not much else should matter. So not much else does.

Everything is wonderful. Even when it isn't.

Are You Ready for Some Football?

2008-01-14T13:02:00.000-08:00

We JUST KNOW that they are going to beat those stupid Patriots. They better, or T may cry harder than that big baby T.O.

This one's for you, Colin and Brendan. Remember when Brendan wished that all hats were Charger hats? Good times, good times.

Snippets

2008-01-13T12:35:00.000-08:00

I wonder if I'll forget how Johnny's vocabulary exploded seemingly overnight this winter. It is amazing how we've gone from isolated words here and there, to full-on sentences. It is mostly wonderful, but sometimes I hear my own words coming from that sweet child's mouth and then I want to DIE.

Last week in the car: "Oh, Jesus. JESUS, JESUS JEEEEESUS." This was particularly fun, as we were in the car with T's Nona.

Yesterday, after a spontaneous walk to the park: "Hi, mama. I fun walka park, sanks!" Of course, before we could hustle out the door to catch the remaining sunshine I tried to put his shoes on: "I too busy, mama."

This morning, while getting some milk out of the refrigerator: "Wow, you strong, mama! Good job!"

Also this morning, as heard over the monitor: "I get up! Mama! Daddy! Turn fan off? Get up? Get up wight now. I so hungry! I so firsty! I SO MAD. Get up wiiiiiiiiiiggggggghhhhht nooooooooooowwwww."

He's really big on telling his loved ones to be careful. "Be careful drivin' Unca Bince!" "Bye, grama! Be careful!"

Far and away though my favorite is what he tells his father after their good-night kiss. "JUICY, daddy!"

He's the best kid!

My Most Faithful Readers

2008-01-07T17:57:00.000-08:00

Here are my favorite guys.

So, starting the better eating plan went off pretty well today. I already feel better, although I wouldn't say no to an entire french silk pie if it magically landed in my lap right now. That may be the root of the problem. There is nothing I would say no to when it comes to the wonders of dessert. I love it, and don't give me that one bite garbage. The last bite tastes the same as the first bite, this is true, but if the first bite tastes wonderful, why stop there? Eat the whole fucking thing, I say- and seconds and thirds if they are available!

So I will omit it entirely for awhile. Making tea is a thing that really helps me out during the first few days of a diet. The physical act of water, mug, teabag, steep and stir seems to distract me from the fridge forage that is a regular, constant activity during the hours after Johnny's bedtime. I know that hardcore WW's will remind me that it is not a diet. What they may not understand is that the alternative is french fries dipped in ranch paired with a chocolate cake shake, so YES IT IS. Will I never be overjoyed to tuck in to a plate of steamed vegetables and a sensible lean protein? Probably not. Will I do it? Why yes, and I'll call it a diet if I want to.

Also helpful is the fact that Johnny and I are back in the swing of things today. New classes began, and we'll be out of the house Monday-Thursday. I always say that I'm done with the Park District classes, but I just need for us to have a full schedule. I don't do well if I have to improvise our days. Left to our own devices, we'd OD on Noggin and wear only jammies. Structure is my friend.

Let us hope that the growling of my stomach won't wake Johnny tonight.

Begin Again

2008-01-05T07:48:00.000-08:00

So here it is, the beginning of a new year, and my butt is bigger than North America. AGAIN. So my resolutions are simple. Simple and often made.

I wish food and I could have a nice, normal relationship, but we don't. We have a love you till it hurts thing going on instead. I'm going back to WW, but I'm also going to concentrate on eating real food, mostly plants, and not a lot.

Tim told me about that theory over a couple of Big Macs at the last crazy club. Ironic! Sick! No surprise that I'm hippo-sized!

I was going to do Medifast this time because I feel totally disgusting and quite uncomfortable, but I don't feel like that is going to help me repair my habits. Honestly I spend half the time thinking that WW doesn't really repair them either, as I'm always scrambling around to find the biggest portion with the fewest amount of points, but it is a better eating plan in the long run.

Oh, I hate that I find myself here again. While I know it isn't hopeless, it sure does feel like the definition of insanity, you know? I hope I feel better after a few days of clean eating.

Happy FREAKING New Year.

Happy New Year!

2008-01-02T20:47:00.000-08:00

It only took me one hundred years to remember how to upload the video that I was never going to get tired of posting.

It may take me a few days to get back into the swing of things blog-wise, but I have resolved to bore the internet on a more regular basis this year. I think it helps me get over my damn self in a more expedient manner. If December is any judge, I need to work on the whole expeditious thing. It got pretty ugly around here this last week. We're working on it.

Here's Mr. Personality. He doesn't bore the internet. He also may dance like Mary Katharine Gallagher, but we love him anyway!

E-I-N-G-O

2007-11-24T07:32:00.000-08:00

I will get sick of posting video approximately never.

Possible Video

2007-11-18T17:21:00.000-08:00

ABC's from Kelly Adreani on Vimeo.

I Don't Like Candy Corn

2007-10-31T20:21:00.000-07:00

Halloween is over!October is almost over! Bite me, October.
T's surgery went well, but there was more damage than expected. Then? Than? I'm so tired I can't even care. In addition to the tears in his labrum, there was a bone spur in his rotator cuff and his biceps tendon was ruptured. What would have been a 6-8 week recovery is now around the 4-5 month mark. The block in his shoulder didn't work, so he had a lot of trouble with pain management right off the bat. The narcotics and anesthesia made him quite nauseous- so lots of pain and lots of puking. FUN!

He feels a little better today, but it is just not in his nature to patiently recover. He is anxious, bummed that it was worse than (again with the then than conundrum) they thought, and he hates sitting around feeling like crap. Which is universal, to be sure- but T NEVER sits down. He's not a sit down and relax kinda guy. Long story short: It should be a FABULOUS 4-5 months.

Johnny had a Halloween party at "school" today, and then we had our neighborhood party here at our house. One gimp and one stressed-out shrew do not a fun party make. Fortunately, we are blessed with a great group of friends and neighbors, so nobody will hold this year against us. Truly, it was a perfectly fun evening. Not our best effort, but perfectly fun.

My mom is in the hospital, but is okay, and will probably be home Friday. She'll kill me if I tell the internet why she's in the hospital, so too bad for you, internet. My gramp is in the hospital too, (this ALL happened this morning) and he may not be okay. I can't even think about that until tomorrow.

Again I say bite me, October.

I just keep moving. I have a million things to do, and if I sit down, I crash. Since about 5:30 Monday morning, I've been more productive than I've ever been in my life. I have to type while sitting down, so I'll end it here to spare a meeting of my forehead with this keyboard. I hope you all got the good candy.

Whine With my Cheese

2007-10-29T17:46:00.000-07:00

T has shoulder surgery tomorrow. So that like, sucks.

Everything is sort of sucking today, really. I'm hyper hormonal, Johnny is flirting with a cold and if the wind blows a certain direction while the barometer rises or falls my feelings get hurt. I realized last week after having spent too many dollars on needless things while simultaneously eating everything in sight, that I'm just pretending my heart isn't broken by the recent turn of events.

You should see me, I've been the BIGGEST trooper in the world. I've smiled, laughed, avoided talking about it, and assured many that everything is good. And I want to smile and laugh, but I need to stop avoiding the subject and be honest. ALMOST everything is good. But what happened stinks, the section of my heart devoted to this baby that wasn't is broken, and I need some time to deal.

I am annoyed that there has been a deal-delay, if you will. I've just been so bummed out for not keeping it all together. It seems to imply that what I have isn't enough since my heart feels less than whole. We all know that is certainly not the case. So I just have to remind myself that this is temporary. I feel sad now, but I won't forever.

(I won't whine about this forever, either. Promise).

Who wouldn't want a package from this UPS man?

Nurtu(red)

2007-10-05T11:43:00.000-07:00

I bought one of those red shirts from the Gap a few weeks ago, before any of this started. I loved the color and thought that it was a perfect description of my life.

There were no surprises at the doctor's office today. No viability, probably not ectopic but they'll have to watch the numbers for awhile. When they asked me to come right in for an ultrasound I did lose it, for the second time since I began to suspect it wasn't going to work out. This time, Johnny saw me. He stood up right away and started rubbing his hands together as he walked toward me.

"Okay, mama? Brush it off. Brush it off, mama." Then he put his big-boy hand on my leg and watched me compose myself. He didn't walk away until he thought I was all better.

With his help, and with the help of the many, many others who keep me nurtu(red), I will be. I will be.

Things and Whatnot

2007-10-03T18:33:00.000-07:00

Of the happy variety:

1. Go Cubs, go.

2. Oh, oh, oh.... YAY.

3. Sunny days spent with a two year old in a good mood. There is nothing better, really.

Of the irritating variety:

1. Exercise? What exercise?

2. Vegetables? Fruit? Whhaaa?

Whatnot:
Diving progesterone. Not doubling hCG. Spotting. The likely ending is not a happy one. We are hanging in there. The thread is teeny-tiny and twisting dangerously, but we hang nonetheless.

The Difference

2007-09-28T18:15:00.001-07:00

I got a new set of results today. They were good, great even. My progesterone had gone from 7.4 to 19.1 in 48 hours. I had one dose of prometrium in my system before the second blood draw, and I'd had my semi-regular acupuncture treatment the night before.

I totally credit the acupuncture.

I started treatment about 2 months ago, I think. My anxiety had ratcheted itself to an entirely different level, and having finally settled on a dose of Celexa that really seemed to work for me, I was reluctant to start messing around with meds again. I wasn't up for more talk therapy- though I love it and think it works- I just wasn't up for it. Acupuncture was a thing I had thought about trying, and after visiting my girls in MI I decided to seriously look into it. Now for me, "seriously looking into" something means that maybe I'll get back to it in six months or so. I think that would have happened here as well, but I went to playgroup a few days after deciding to do it, and lo! Someone brought up the subject of her fantastic acupuncturist. Easy. I got his number, called and set up an appointment.

I loved the actual treatment from the get-go. I told my mom after the first session that I hadn't felt my jaw unclench for nearly two years until that night. The needles don't hurt me, and it is one whole hour spent by my damn self which is magical. I will say that the first four weeks or so were tough. I was really crabby and tense between sessions, and thought a lot about quitting, as it seemed to be making things worse. But I stayed, and I'm so glad. I haven't had an anxiety attack since July. I haven't had a gallbladder attack since July. My periods were getting much more manageable. I started being able to sleep at night. My jaw stayed unclenched. I am different. Calmer. I have felt some nervousness regarding this pregnancy, but if I were going through it without the benefit of acupuncture I know that I'd be nearly non-functioning with the stress of it all right now.

I wasn't using acupuncture to get pregnant. But I do think that acupuncture is a huge factor in this pregnancy. I'm acupuncture's newest, biggest fan.

The News

2007-09-26T12:19:00.001-07:00

Well, it was mostly good news, really. My hCG more than doubled which is awesome, but my progesterone took it's normal-for-me 5 week dive. I'll start prometrium today, and hope that we have caught it early enough.

My mom and T are both famous for their "feelings" and they have a good one about this.

So we'll all blame them if something bad happens, okay?

Jinxed My Ownself

2007-09-25T18:57:00.000-07:00

Due to a lab mix-up, I have no results. Surprisingly, there was only the shortest of meltdowns regarding said mix-up.

But isn't it funny that I let myself wonder if I'd know anything today? I mean funny ha-ha. HA HA HA, Universe! You kidder, you.

I'm really okay. We'll know more tomorrow.

Information Dump

2007-09-24T20:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I want a record of this or not, but here goes:

I am pregnant. Not very pregnant, but pregnant. My numbers are low and I am spotting, so tomorrow's bloodwork results will be revealing. Fuck, I hope they will be, anyway. Now I'm sitting here wondering if I'll know anything more than I do now when I get the news. The not knowing drives me INSANE. I'm amazed by my need for control and humbled by the lack thereof. Humbled and INSANE.

You know it is funny. For a long time, I thought it was the first twelve weeks of pregnancy that my body sucked at. Now, knowing that it is really the whole freaking forty? I confess I'm a little baffled by why this seemed like such a good idea.

So, we are doing the back and forth. Half the time I want this to work out so bad it is scary, and half the time I feel almost greedy. I'm so happy with the way things are! Why tempt fate?

Johnny is sick right now with an ear/eye infection and the barfs, and I suspect that he planned this diversion because he loves me too much to let me worry. What a guy! I told S before the barfing began that I'd take puke over a constantly oozing eye, and I stand by my statement. The oozing eye really has finely distinguished my threshold for gross. When he wakes up with it all matted together and crusty? I long for a poopy diaper or a big ol' heave to take the focus away from the GIANT, OOZY EYE. Seriously, this is the worst.

I have to give the kid props for his good attitude, though. This afternoon, (pre-barf, post first dose of magic, I mean, antibiotics), he ran back and forth about thirty different times between his book cabinet and the bed I was laying on to give me a book. It was all:

patpatpatpatpatpatpat
"Here you go, mama. Okay!"
patpatpatpatpatpatpat
"Here you go, mommy. Keypu!" (Thank-You).
patpatpatpatpatpatpat
"Here you go, mom! Ooookay! Keypu! Welcome!" (The MANNERS on this kid, I swear).
patpatpatpatpatpatpat

It went on for a long time. Long enough to remind me that everything is navigable. Everything.

Quick Link

2007-08-21T19:10:00.000-07:00

Just believe me when I tell you that you ought to be reading this.

Bill Bryson has NOTHING on my brother Matt.

Shocking Photographic Evidence

2007-08-16T12:44:00.001-07:00

The following pictures were all taken on August 16th:

2005

2006

2007

Clearly, I'm feeling a little schmoopy about the kid's 2nd birthday. It just flies by. I don't want to forget a thing. Except for this morning when I was poop-smeared up to my elbow- that can fade with the passing years, I suppose. Everything else? Please let me remember!

The last picture is Johnny's new favorite thing- his "peynano" he can rock your socks off! I like to call him Elton Johnny, but his father prefers Johnny Lee Lewis. Either way, there is a whole lot of shakin' goin' on at Casa A. Strep be damned!

Two! Two!

2007-08-15T22:00:00.001-07:00

I have been meaning to post about Johnny's second birthday for a few days. If to say nothing else but that it always SEEMS like a good idea to turn two. He's sick. Has been since yesterday, and yesterday was like, two thousand years ago, man.

So, his strep throat quick culture came back positive, but the pediatrician would like the regular culture to confirm this before starting antibiotics. Someday I'm sure I'll thank him and his cautious ways, but NOT TODAY. Today, we are enduring Johnny's marathon freak-outs when any pain relief wears off because hey- strep throat HURTS, and probably REQUIRES ANTIBIOTICS.

Argh.

Other than this major bummer, two has been great so far. His party was moved from our backyard to a nearby pizza joint at the last minute because going outside is like wearing a wet blanket that you accidentally set on fire. From now on, all of our parties will be held at said pizza joint and maybe all of the major holidays because not cleaning my house before or after a party is brilliant, why didn't I think of it a long time ago? Here we are, basking in our collective brilliance:

CAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKEEEEEEE. Love. Cake.

Neither of my boys are very fond of the whole present-opening thang. Too many eyes on them.

Gamma + Johnny= BFF

Honestly, despite strep and freak-outs and whether I have to clean the house or not- this has been the best two years of my life thus far. Happy birthday, stinky butt. Here's to many, many more.

Hairte Couture

2007-07-30T19:30:00.001-07:00

Good RIDDANCE, hair.

We've gone from this:

to THIS:

And let me tell you, THIS is magically delicious. I love ponytails but not on my fat head. So, now there is no temptation to try again with the ever elusive ponytail because there is not enough hair and that is good. GOOD! It takes approximately 9 minutes from soaking wet to dry and sleek, with the help of my new flat iron that I would tongue kiss if I wasn't such a wuss about electrocution. I have officially broken up with all Chi products and directed my allegiance toward Sedu. Thanks for the great hair, Sedu!

The next time I try to grow out my stupid hair, slap me hard.

It's Like a Merry-Go-Round

2007-06-27T21:16:00.000-07:00

The good weather really affects my blogging.

That, or I have admitted I have zero to write about that isn't being written about and better elsewhere, so I'm off to try my hand at professional water skiing.

We are having a great summer. See?

T is on vacation this week so there have been trips to a nearby Pirate park, playing in the pool in the backyard, and just general merriment. It is still early enough in the season to be in love with my garden, rather than cursing the fact that it doesn't have a self-water feature. It looks pretty this year, too.

My neighbor and I have grand plans to go all perennials next year, in an effort to stop generating the waste that comes with overuse of annuals. We also plot and plan for rain barrels and pest-free compost systems, when we aren't solidifying our 4 easy steps to world peace. (That is code for drunk and playing bocce in the dark, just to be clear).

I am not pregnant. I was a little sad to discover that today. I would like for Johnny to have a sibling, and babies are looking extra delicious to me lately. With so much to be happy about, the sadness was brief, but still. It is nice to finally, finally, finally know that I would like another child. It is also nice to know that I'm peaceful about whatever WILL happen.

I Love a Parade

2007-05-29T19:27:00.000-07:00

The answer to where my son got all that cute?

Hey, handsome! Cheers.

We had fun at our little suburban version of a Memorial Day parade. I was so relieved that Johnny didn't freak out at the sirens or guns, or the f'in clowns. Uncle Tim would have collapsed into a tiny puddle of WIGGED when the clowns marched by, so that my kid remained stoic is worth mentioning.

Things continue to be terrific around here- Johnny is a whirlwind of object identification and listening to him try out sentences is amazing. He'll take his hat off, throw it on the floor and say, "hat! Where go?" He loves to count, although he has never met a number higher than two, and he learned how to do a cartwheel tonight. Our neighbor Kate (John calls her "Cake" and may he NEVER learn how to correctly pronounce it- her brother Pete is called "Peep," Could you die? I could die!), does a mean cartwheel, and Johnny joined her by raising his arms up in the air, and throwing himself to the ground majestically. Hilarious. Equally hysterical is when he leans down to smell the flowers. He blows a puff of air out his mouth, and says "mmmmmmm."

I wish I were better at recording all of the things he is doing now. I think I am better at just watching. Well, watching and marveling. May the marveling never stop.

2007-05-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

Johnny must not have gotten the memo on Mother's Day. He was up almost all night Saturday, I'm not even exaggerating a little.

He's been having some kind of sleep strike- since about Friday, I guess. He'll wake up crying, I'll sleepwalk down the stairs to rescue him and then remember that I HATE sleeping with him now. He's the opposite of cuddly and gentle, so about an hour after we've started to notcuddle, I walk back upstairs with scratched legs, pulled hair and broken ribs.

Now I'm exaggerating.

T and I were REALLY tired on Sunday, he'd worked until about 2:30 in the ayem, and I'd been up with the night owl for several hours. We had plans to brunch with his mom and BBQ with mine- so there weren't many nap opportunities for the buddy or his parents. I feared that all the notsleeping would result in some kind of yooge, world class meltdown, but we managed to keep our shit together for the most part. T and I almost got in a fight over a bratwurst, but thought better of it. I should think better of posting this photo, but it's the only one I've got to mark the day. Despite using all the tools at Picasa's disposal to blur myself into NOT LOOKING LIKE A MAN, I hate it, predictably.

How did that kid get to be so cute? Let's focus on his cuteness in a little more detail:

I mean, that is some serious cute.

Get Right Back On

2007-05-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you fall off the bicycle?

Right. So, a month (ish) later, we find our heroine avoiding her blog at all costs. Some of us puked, some of us turned forty, some of us got our first haircut ever, all while we were on radio silence. Some of us get freaking cuter and cuter by the millisecond.

The puking did me a huge favor in the weight loss department. Thanks, stomach flu! Will I always get Johnny's stomach flu? This seems to have been the season of stomach flu. Last year was the season of bronchial issues, and now stomach flu. Does that make stomach flu the new black?

Can you break a $50? Can you help me decide if Robert Blake was innocent? Does Mittens have free will? Oh, just watch it if you don't know what I'm talking about.

Is it clear yet that I'm feeling a little rusty?

When I'm feeling really happy, really satisfied with life and the direction it has taken, this is what happens. Who wants to hear about how great I think everything is? I'm sure that soon enough, I'll be back to bitching. For now, I'm at a totally exhilarated, supremely content loss for words.

Hooray for fixed cameras!

Phat

2007-03-20T19:18:00.000-07:00

I don't understand how it can be the end of March. What this means, essentially, is I am going to lose yet another bet with T.

DAMMIT.

It always seems like I have tons of time to get serious about these last 10 or so pounds, you know? When he and I made this bet back in January, I couldn't even imagine how fast April 21st would be here. We bet that we both would weigh a certain amount by T's 40th birthday, (April 21st, duh), and it looks like one of us will and it won't be me.

DAMMIT.

I've been pretty good lately, doing the exercise, counting the points and drinking the water. But then there is cake and St. Patrick's Day and Crazy Club. They all trip me up. I counted last Wednesday and I had eaten 29 of my 35 flex points by 8pm. That is not good. I blame Uncle Tim.

Whatever, T. I may be fat but you will be OLD.

What must it be like to live without worrying if your belly is hanging out? Let's ask Johnny, shall we?

Looks pretty liberating to me.

The Age of Reason

2007-03-07T07:02:00.000-08:00

Last night I learned that my ultra-Catholic, ultra-cool grandmother didn't bring any of her four children to church until they were seven. Seven was dubbed the "age of reason."

I miss her.

I went to church alone on Sunday, and we'll just have to play it by ear as to when or if John will go back with me. It is a lot to ask of a little person, I think.

Speaking of age and reason, I'm finding that it is rough going for John and I lately. He thinks "no" and "stop" are the funniest jokes he's ever heard, and oh BOY does that get on my nerves. The food and cup launching are one thing, and while I hate them, I do realize that they aren't dangerous or potentially harmful. It's the danger and potential harm that gets me all fired up. The oven, the toilet, the stairwell, the garbage can. Our days lately revolve around why it isn't a good idea to dive into any of the above. It is exhausting and frustrating. Or it isn't, depending on my freshness as his mom, the time of day, and the level of caffeine in my system.

I ordered some parenting books. Perhaps there will be some insight.

My camera is broken and I am sad. I did get these cute pictures last week, though:

A definite perk of this stage? The hugs! I get at least 10 a day.

Not much that is cuter than boys in a bath, I'd say.

Good Medicine

2007-02-28T19:43:00.000-08:00

This makes everything in the world okay.

Even the giraffe thinks so.

Oh, Let's Just Call it CAN'T

2007-02-27T19:08:00.000-08:00

Lent is not going well for me so far.

I went to church on Ash Wednesday (surprise Amy Poehler! I AM religious) and really listened while I was urged to reach out, to renew, to reflect and forgive. Well, it always seems like a good idea to reach out, renew, reflect and forgive. Easy? Not so much.

My reaching, renewing and forgiving were recieved a little less than enthusiastically, which is where I always get tripped up. I pull out my mental score card and shockingly, I am always in the lead. I then wait for the other party to catch up before resuming civility. Childishness is a thing I seem to have invented, you know. To be honest, I managed to remind myself to take it slow and continue plugging away. Then I went to church on Sunday and after that VERY SPIRITUAL experience, I am now a little tired of lent. Less than one week in.

I haven't been very good about bringing Johnny to church, see. He wants to spend his time walking around, talking loudly, pooping and crying. If there is eating that is cool with him too. But don't ask him to sit quietly, man- that is not cool. Normal toddler behavior. That doesn't really fly at church, you know? And since I hate the cry room, as it seems like an invitation to bad behavior we scrapped the whole thing altogether when he became as mobile and opinionated as he is now. All of this is to say that he's only had a few weeks reintroduction to Mass. His feelings on church seem to match my feelings on lent currently.

On Saturday we started off at the end of a pew, reasonably. He lasted for the first two readings before the writhing and screeching began. I took him to the back, and my mom joined us shortly thereafter with all of our things. I think I counted two or three dirty looks while all this was happening. We then made our way into the cry room, and I shut the door before he could escape. That was when I heard the loud tongue-click, and whipped around to see some old (Catholic, but still) BAG shaking her head at us and trying to taser us with her eyes. She didn't have a crying child with her, or any child at all and there was plenty of room in the church to sit with the quiet folks. So why sit in the cry room? My mom whispered to me that they couldn't hear the priest with the door closed. Well, all the more reason to not sit in the cry room where there is great chance you won't have total quiet if you ask me, but I opened the door while blushing furiously and had to immediately run out to chase John who did what any toddler new to church would do if there was an open door- ran out.

Then I let him climb the stairs to the choir loft and toddle around up there. I didn't like to do this, because HELLO, invitation to bad behavior sent by yours truly but had no earthly idea what to do with him by then. When I held him from behind as he peered over the loft, I got another couple of head shakes and pointed looks from the congregation. Well. Peace be RIGHT UP YOUR ASSES, thanks.

We left early. I cried. Yay, lent! I told my mother how poorly all my lenten resolutions were going, despite wanting to uphold them positively and privately. I told her I want to give up. I told her that I wasn't made of the stiff upper lip necessary to... uh, be a grown-up who has grown-up relationships. That isn't really what I said. What I really said had a lot more F bombs. I'm pretty sure that what I said boils down to this sentiment, though. I'm a score-keepin' thin-skinned BIYOTCH.

But I don't want to be, so I'll give myself a few more days to settle down before trying again. I know that the reactions of others aren't about me, and people don't need to be judged for not meeting my overblown expectations. I'm not too obtuse to realize that perhaps this lenten season is about me getting over my big fat self and being okay with the fact that plenty of people get along without me just fine. I don't deserve a thank you for wanting to resume a relationship.

I'm still at a loss as to how to manage church, though. I want Johnny to go, but don't need more hassle than I already have. I may just go alone for awhile, or become Buddhist. They don't have lent, right?

The amount on the screen is the number of goldfish and or cookies required for Johnny to behave in church.

Then and Now

2007-02-21T14:28:00.000-08:00

We've gone from this:

To THIS:

In one week. I can't but wonder if it confuses Johnny. He isn't complaining, and neither am I really- it is some great luck to be able to go for outdoor strolls two days in row during the middle of February. I just think it would be hilarious if he asked me where the heck the mountains went one morning, or why he suddenly has to wear a big-ass coat again.

I don't think I've mentioned the sudden prevalence of "no" or "cookie" in Johnny's vocabulary yet. Well, let me tell you, it is a major talking point in our house. He asks me for a cookie at least 126 times per day, and has a fall on the floor FIT when I suggest some water or milk instead.

"Cookie?"

"Oh, how about a little (insert liquid here) instead?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Cry, wail, flail.

Tons 'o fun. Tons. And the way he says cookie makes it really hard to refuse him as it is the dearest, cutest pronounciation of cookie you ever did hear. We haven't had a lot of exposure to either leprechauns or Cookie Monster yet, but somehow he manges to sound like the love child of both while asking for a stinking cookie.

Sometimes, to short-circuit the tantrum I make a big show of agreeing to the cookie, and cutting up some melon or grapes instead. Then I feel like a jerk for confusing him. Ah, motherhood. The guilt that keeps on giving.

All I Ever Wanted

2007-02-18T16:02:00.000-08:00

What a great vacation. The sun really helped, I'm totally prepared to kick the ass of what is left of February and all of March.

There was naked hot tubbing, crazy gambling, excessive consumption of In-N-Out Burger, and lots of laughter.

I have some great pictures, but here is my favorite:

We spent part of Thursday exploring Indian Canyons and it was AWESOME. Clearly, we weren't appropriately attired, but we still managed to make our way around some of the easier canyons. It was all so beautiful.

Johnny was a total party animal, going to bed California time and waking up Chicago time but I wouldn't complain. Which is shocking really, and quite a testament to the restorative power of vacation.

Headwounds, Heartache

2007-02-05T08:54:00.000-08:00

OUCH. This hurts almost as much as Cedric Benson's knee.

Oh, Bears. It was a great season and a big, fat ass-whoopin' you suffered last night. Next year!

Here are some cute fans I know that got decked out for the big game:

Rowan loves URLACHER.

Johnny hates when we all scream and yell for a kickoff return TD.

Here are some geeks I know hanging out on a Saturday night:Johnny and the world's biggest almost-four-year-old play a little Dora.

They played like this for nearly a half-hour. Jason is a very patient guy who seems to not mind excessive drool or arbitrary button pushing.

It was a great weekend, headwounds and heartaches notwithstanding.

Doors and Windows

2007-02-02T19:24:00.000-08:00

Today was not the greatest for being a mom.

First, there was a crossed signal at playgroup resulting in some MAJOR hurt feelings on my part. The full moon and all that it... uh... brings probably played no small part in why I couldn't get my self composed enough before Johnny and I walked into our Toddler Time class. I managed to fake it well enough for the first 15 minutes or so, but then buddy was on the bad end of a push to the chest and ended up splitting his head open on the leg of a table.

Cue the bleeding, swelling, crying and chaos.

Well. I just lost my shit right there in the middle of the freaking Kaleidoscope room. Awesome. I cried- and cried hard enough that I wasn't able to talk for about 3 minutes. I happen to LOVE the mom of the little girl that pushed Johnny. She is wonderful and totally cool. She thought I was crying simply because of the incident, but it was more like a combination of too many incidents in a too short amount of time. I am still hoping, eight hours after the fact, that I managed to convince her of this. I am still wondering if Toddler Time will have to go the way of Open Gym because clearly I am having a hard time learning how to just go ahead and act right.

Yes, my kid was hurt. Yes, I am a little worn down the past few months. But for the love of GOD, to cry in a room full of toddlers and their parents seems so unnecessary.

I love the fact that I take Johnny to so many classes and play dates. I am proud of it. Because it means to me that I am doing a good job. Doing my best. On these gray days and weeks and months when I want nothing more than to hole up in our warm house, watching mindless television and wearing pajamas I do the COMPLETE OPPOSITE because it is healthier for both of us. Because it means I'm not giving up.

I am bummed that even the right choices become tainted by my seasonal affected spirit.

HOWEVER.

I will get up tomorrow and I will try again. Every day I will try again to not let what I know is meaningless be meaningful. I will do my best.

Or, I will call Meredith Viera and ask her to babysit. She can even drink some of our Amstel Light.

Begin Again

2007-01-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

You're still coming here, after all this time?

It's just that winter is taking FOREVER, and I am endlessly gloomy. Who wants to read about that? Faking it is not my strong suit, either. I am hoping that our trip to the desert will give me the solar power I need to get through February. I just know I'll feel like myself again in March, and if not then a big guy and a little guy I know may just demand a REFUND.

Said little guy is the best. Every day there is something new to laugh about and marvel over. He is finally growing hair and looks a little like Peter Boyle due to the crazy way it is coming in. The teeth keep breaking, and the drool keeps dripping. He's grown so much this month- it's wild. He's getting big boyish. He's into Backyardigans, Sandra Boynton, T-ball and bananas.

He puked on me for the first time earlier this month. G and her two boys were there to witness it, and G said later that while she is no stranger to the puking she had never seen quite so much puke in a single hurl. I really think that if she wouldn't have been there, Johnny and I would STILL be frozen in the spot between the dining room and the kitchen where it happened. It was that shocking. G and I now have no secrets- she has now seen me and my kid naked, and she knows that I hide all my laundry in my upstairs closet. She cleaned up the spew, and did the laundry while we cleaned ourselves up. There should be an award for a friend like that.

S also got in on the action during Hurlfest 2007- she brought over the pedialyte AND taught Johnny to puke in a bowl. He didn't puke in a bowl or again that night, but he still will lean over and mimic the puking. S said it was sweet revenge for me teaching her middle son to say "BIG DUMP" every time he filled his diapers. Heh.

We are well into our new round of classes for winter- Tot Rock and Toddler Time. They are fun, and I continue to like the moms I am meeting. They have also given us the opportunity to discover that John is fully terrified by bubbles. Bubbles. He will cower and do the lip pucker eye squinch combo - as though a bowling ball is hurtling through the air at his head rather than.... soap. I can't WAIT to make fun of him when he's old enough. Like, next month.

I have been sick for three weeks or so, and it sucks but that's winter for you. Stupid winter. Why don't I live in Hawaii?

The cute sweaters. It must be the cute sweaters that keep us here.

Nobody's Fool

2006-12-30T21:41:00.000-08:00

We had a New Year's Eve party for the playgroup buddies on Friday. There was eating, drinking, chatting, all the fun stuff- and a countdown at twelve.

Noon, that is.

Judging by the look on Johnny's face, he was not at all pleased that we didn't manage to darken the house to at least give the impression of midnight to him and all his toddler friends. We're a mean and oppressive bunch, clearly.

Tomorrow for the real New Year's Eve, T and I are slapping some ribs on the grill and hanging out with my family. After Johnny goes to bed we'll head to the neighbors for game night. I love game night. I love that I can spend New Year's Eve in pajamas if I feel like it. I love that my neighbors are a fun bunch of folks who live on either side of us, and we get to hang out with them at midnight. Wow, for a second there I stopped my incessant complaining of the last month or so, didn't I? AM I STILL RECOGNIZABLE??

I feel that I need to state for the record that I don't hate Christmas as much as it must sound like I do. I just get stressed out. Stressed out by the shopping, wrapping, planning, hosting and cleaning up of it all. However, I am grateful to have so many family and friends to shop, wrap plan and host for. The cleaning up can bite me, Christmas or not.

I'm grateful that Gramp and Cortney feel better. That Johnny is a great kid who makes my life so fun and joyful more often than not. That my husband is my best friend in the world who makes me laugh hard enough to get hiccups. That G reads all the stupid books I tell her to and never gets annoyed when I cancel our movie date at the last minute. (Or just pretends to not get annoyed). That S is S. What the hell would I do without S? I'm grateful that Matt calls more often than he gets a call back, because I know he gets it. That mom and Paul are so close and think Johnny is just as amazing as we do. Truthfully, I am inundated with love.

This year, I plan to remember that. Always remember that.

Comfort and Joy

2006-12-28T16:18:00.000-08:00

See you later, Christmas! Don't let the door hit you on the ass! Do I say that every year? Why yes, I think I do.

It was fine, really. I'm just bitchy like that. We made it through Christmas Eve without incident, and Christmas Day was really nice and mellow. Johnny raked in the loot, and we are still packing up old toys to donate and making room for the new.

Here he is on Christmas morning, making Elmo laugh and shake for the 10,000th time.

Here he is on Christmas night, shooting the rock with his dad. Really though, he would put the ball right up to the rim and wait for us to clap and cheer before dunking on it. Hambone. He wore pajamas all day, I think. Lucky duck.

Now we are gearing up for New Year's. T had himself some lithotripsy this morning, and Johnny has himself a teensy fever tonight. I have a big fat case of the crabbies. Hopefully, Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway will talk me out of it later. It's shaping up to be a happy FREAKING new year, regardless.

Holidays love me.

New Jammies

2006-12-22T06:55:00.000-08:00

I love Johnny's new jammies. They are ridiculous cute. They say "Sparky's Custom Wheels" and have teeny little motorcycles all over them. My favorite part is the top of the pants where the elastic meets in the back- it says Old Old Navy. Instead of New Old Navy or Older Oldest Navy, right? It is possible that I am too easily amused.

He was dancing the other night while I was taking these pictures. He presses the button on his fridge farm, and proceeds to get down with his bad self.

There is not much more fun to be had than dancing in the kitchen with your cute kid.

Merry Christmas, Bedford Falls!

Thirty Rocks

2006-12-20T16:32:00.000-08:00

Last week, Alec Baldwin called me.

Twice.

Thank you, whoever made that happen (though I'm pretty sure it was G, I won't force her to 'fess up.)

I will watch your new show, Mr. Baldwin. I have been watching. I'm totally smitten. I do have great breasts, especially since my new miracle bra arrived a few weeks ago. Pay no attention to the subtle bruising up and down my ribcage, my nipples are pointing up, which is all that matters, right? Thanks for noticing, either way!

I think that I'm getting a sinus infection for Christmas, which is awesome. Johnny seems okay so far, but has been really digging in his ears and frothing at the nose for a few days now. To add to the misery, I have my period. AGAIN. My new Keeper arrived, and though I have been looking forward to using it, it uh, hurts. I will continue to do my part for the planet and our plumbing, but my goodness- I feel like my OB forgot her speculum in there or something.

I don't want to complain about Christmas anymore, but I'd like to note that I'm just not feeling it. I'm excited to see how Johnny will react to presents and merriment, but that is IT. I've vowed to not even try to put him to bed on Christmas eve, I will instead drink a glass of wine around his bedtime, and let him fall asleep wherever he lands. Boyfriend does not like to miss a party, and we have a big party here that night. Wish me luck, as I am a lover of routine and rhythm.

Tomorrow is our final Toddler Time class for the Fall session. I've signed us up for the Winter/Spring session, along with a Tot Rock(!) class that meets on Monday. Anything to get me out of open gym, right?

Okay, I'm off to listen to my Alec Baldwin messages for the 1,000th time. He is so into me.

Full of Grace

2006-12-12T07:38:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I forgot to write about this until now.

Someone needs to walk me through setting up an eBay account. I have two, nearly full punch cards for the local park districts Monday morning open gym. They are worth $20 each, and since I'm never going to open gym again, I should sell/donate them, huh?

I feel bad about planning to never go again, because Johnny loves open gym. He can run around in the wide open space, find plenty of balls and blocks to throw, and watch the big kids do cool stuff. I love it too, truth be told. It is really nice to spend two hours without worrying too much if Johnny will find a way to brain himself on some sharp corner or hard surface. Open gym is one big soft surface.

But we are never going to go again, because last time we were there I left after almost dying of embarassment. See, I fell. And it wasn't a quiet, inconspicuous kind of fall- it was more like a neon-colored, sound barrier breaking kind of fall. I was chasing one of my three-year old buddies around the gym, and we were laughing and screaming about whether I could or couldn't catch him. I was going to shortcut one of the inflated mattresses to triumphantly catch him, when I caught my foot on the edge and went flying. FLYING. So after 45 seconds of hang time, I (OF COURSE) landed in front of the circle of parents that wears pants without elastic, shirts without stains and is perfectly groomed. I think that one of the dads was leaning against the mattress I tripped over, so I'm sure I knocked it out from behind him, which only served to highlight my stupid, clumsy self.

S tells me that I handled it well. I laid (sprawled) there for a moment, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me forever, and then climbed up and asked Ryan (the three year old buddy) why he tripped me. Everyone laughed, and I moved on. I mean, I moved on outwardly. Inwardly I went over and over and over the incident, wondering why I can't just sit there and calmly play with my toddler instead of running around like a dope, calling attention to myself everywhere I go.

I'm still so embarrassed about it, almost a week and a half later. I cried to T about it, as he bit his lip, dying to be able to laugh at me. I did let him laugh at me, later. Later still, I joined him. But don't you laugh. It isn't that funny yet. Maybe in another week.

Uncle Vince would never fall at open gym. He's far too cool to fall.

Things That Happen

2006-12-10T17:56:00.000-08:00

Man, I really am a grinch.

I usually find that December starts out with the best of intentions: Tree, gifts, the glow of luminaria, falala.

By mid-December, T and I are a bundle of exhausted tension. He works 85 hour weeks instead of his usual 60, and I miss him and immaturely act out. This December is no exception, but we have the added bonus of a sick sister-in-law and a sick grandfather.

Cortney has a blood clot in her leg and several small PE's right now. She feels lousy, and I feel lousy for her. How does an EXTREMELY fit, positive person who regularly chooses to run 26.2 miles in a row for fun deserve this? She doesn't, it sucks. Her doctors think she is going to be okay, and I'm glad. It still sucks.

My gramp had a melanoma removed on Wednesday of last week, and the surgery site became infected by Friday. Well, it's a MRSA infection. SUUUUUUCK. He told my mom today that he thinks this is "the end of him." Never in a long succession of bum-heart incidents has he said anything like that. We're sad. Sad that he's scared, sad that life is finite and so freaking uncertain. We'll be pissed later, especially if Medicare won't let him go home for his 4-week antibiotic therapy. Right now, we're just sad.

Today T and I had a long strategy session. We're going to make it through this stupid fucking month, and we're going to have fun as often as we can. In February, we are going to sit in the desert with our family, play cards, and be glad that my gramp is there with us. He loves the desert. I insist that he'll be there. Never once during that much anticipated vacation are we going to think about how much December fools us into being merry and then pulls the rug RIGHT OUT from under us.

Never even once.

Yeesh

2006-12-02T20:41:00.000-08:00

So, where have we been? We've been getting dressed for the storm. It took us 12 days. We had to wear a lot of clothes to stand outside and look at the snow.

For all of the 10 minutes we did it.

Love winter. Love it.

The Bra, The Best Friend and a Note About My Wardrobe

2006-11-20T16:50:00.000-08:00

Last week there was an independent retailer type thing at my church. It was advertised as "Ladies Night."

Let me tell you, I did NOT act like a lady. I was annoyed when I got there, and promptly downed two margaritas. What followed was loud talking, swearing, and a bra fitting that featured smiley-face stickers that demonstrated where my nipples were vs. where they ought to be according to Frederick or Victoria or The Man. You can be sure I remarked on all of this, and loudly. Why does no one ever tell me to shut up after I drink two margaritas in 20 minutes. Going forward, everyone has my permission to do so.

We also discussed whether or not bringing Johnny to the last WW meeting was a good idea or not. I did bring him, I wouldn't do it again, and he was NOT well-received. Which is okay. The thing is, I simply cannot be objective or rational where he is concerned. I can't even believe that anyone wanted to HAVE a meeting. They should have just wanted to sit around and watch Johnny be amazing. This is a thing that goes mostly unadvertised. Your perspective becomes a little melty where your child is concerned. It seems like a good idea to bring him wherever I go, because I really enjoy him. If you don't really enjoy him? You hate children, hate me, and you are oppressing me. Clearly. If you agree with me on this we are BFF's. If not, see above.

Right. It always seems like a good idea to have two margaritas in 20 minutes.

In other news, I have decided to set up a little challenge for myself. I am not going to buy one item of clothing for myself for one year.

I've been doing a LOT of thinking about this. I have an enormous amount of clothing and accessories. Lately, that is a source of shame. It is an excessive, wasteful, expensive habit. I feel a little sick when I look in my closet these days. So there you go. No clothes and no margaritas.

Really.

Phony Bennett

2006-11-12T08:06:00.000-08:00

I was catching up on my TiVo last night, so I turned on SNL really late. But not too late to catch the Tony Bennett sketch, which was the funniest thing that I've seen on SNL in a loooooong time. It was like Debbie Downer funny. Belly laugh funny. I'm so glad that I caught it.

So let me tell you about these awesome books I'm reading/have read lately:

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle - Haruki Murakami
I have no idea what the hell is going on about 200 pages in, but I don't care. I love it.

The Book of Lost Things - John Connolly
Oh, I loved this book. I could have done without the ball peen hammering that was the last chapter on the Crooked Man, but I still loved it.

Marie Antoinette: The Journey - Antonia Fraser
This is Gabi's fault. We saw and loved the movie so now we must read the book.

Side note: Overuse of word "love?" Check.

The Memory Keeper's Daughter - Kim Edwards
I read it for book club. It was sad.

Elements of Style - Wendy Wasserstein
I love the rug being pulled out from under me. This a wicked send-up, and I'm sorry that the world is minus one Wendy Wasserstein.

Look at the SIZE of that tooth! It's like he stuck a chiclet back there. He's getting the twin now, so he's of super pleasant disposition this morning. Poor guy. At least he didn't leave his heart in Sam Clam's Disco.

Of Falls and Books

2006-11-11T08:07:00.000-08:00

So, this horrible thing happened yesterday.

We were getting ready to walk out the door when it became obvious that Johnny needed both a new diaper and due to an unfortunate Sippy Cup Incident, a new set of clothes. T was outside in the car, not aware of the delay. I took Johnny to his room to quickly change his whole self. I set him on the changing table, as I always do. The changing table at our house isn't really a table. It is a pad that sits on top of one of his dressers, about 3 feet off of the HARD WOOD FLOOR. (Foreshadow much?) His diapers are right under the pad, in a cabinet style section of the dresser, and his shirts are in the bottom two drawers. His pants are in the wardrobe on the other side of the room. Normally I select his clothes before setting him on the pad and have everything at my disposal. Normally I do NOT turn my back for one second on the writhing, impatient toddler who hates being on the changing table for even one millisecond.

Right. Not yesterday, though. He was happily occupied with a toothbrush and a block, so I left his side for a second to grab a pair of pants. Now, like I said, the pants are in the wardrobe on the other side of the room. The room is small. It is about three steps from the table to the wardrobe. I don't say this to make what I did sound better, that is impossible. I say it for context.

While I was grabbing a pair of pants, I heard a rustle-whoosh sort of noise before I whipped around. He was falling. Falling off of the table and about to land on the floor or the spiky leg of the fucking rocking chair that is too near the table and that I have never used.

I don't know how I caught him. I really don't. All I know is that one second he was falling, and the next second I was there, with my arm under his head, neck and butt. He knew that he had fallen and he was pissed. He did that kind of crying without inhaling thing for awhile and I just walked around with him, telling him that it was okay. I lied, in other words. Because yes, I caught him and he didn't hurt himself on the floor or the chair, but he still has a stupid fucking mother that would turn her back on him while he's three feet off the floor.

It may take me a while to get over this one. Expect random, melodramatic posts that mirror the great breastfeeding tragedy of 2005 and the Kids Klub Clusterfuck of '06.

Now is when I had planned on talking to you about books. I am reading some really great books lately. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow when I can hear myself think over the din of GUILT and FAILURE.

Shit.

Circle Time is our Favorite

2006-11-04T07:33:00.000-08:00

Johnny and I started his "Toddler Time" class this week.

I was feeling nervous about it, and thought my fears were well-founded for about the first twenty minutes or so. It seemed like a lot of the parents and kids that were taking the class during the first session weren't into the new folks.

But see, I'm a bitch who is quick to judge and it wasn't really like that at all. People are just shy, and need some time to warm up, geez. We had a nice time and confirmed that Johnny hasn't grasped the concepts of play-doh, crayons, OR "circle time."

The class starts with play-doh time and the kids sit in teensy chairs and roll out gross, disgusting play-doh to be cut into hearts or stars or yellow moons. Once we got situated, John sat there, looking at me as though I were CRAZY to imagine he'd want to sit here, still, when there was so much to check out in this new room. Then he proceeded to alternate eating the play-doh and attempting to club the kid to his left over the head with the rolling pin. When that got tired, he just started flinging the play-doh cutters all over the room. It was fun!

Then there was circle time. Songs, clapping, desperate Johnny-wrangling. Oh, circle time.

Next came free play. This was actually when I decided that we'd come back next week, because by then, all the rest of the new people had arrived, and there was adult interaction. Johnny seemed to enjoy free play, because there were blocks. If there are blocks, my boy will find them, build them, eat them and throw them. Several consecutive minutes of fun, I tell you.

This session, we had to do circle time twice, because so many people missed it the first time. The class had a time switch, and not all the parents were informed. Oh, circle time. Thank god you'll only have to happen once next week.

Then? Dancing. Cute songs with cues to follow. The first few laps Johnny made it, then I had to carry him. Should I work up such a sweat during Toddler Time? Hmmm.

I want to not compare him to the other kids, really. But how do you do it? He's the only one not walking, and he seems to have the biggest beef with being expected to sit still for activities. He's also the cutest and the smartest, so there is that.

I'm glad we're doing it, I like meeting other parents with kids around Johnny's age and I think the structure and interaction are important for him. Bonus factor? The kid took a THREE HOUR nap after the class.

It must have been circle time that wore him out.

Itsy Bitsy

2006-11-01T04:55:00.000-08:00

Johnny was a spider for Halloween. He looked too cute, and was a good sport about it. We didn't trick or treat, but went for wagon rides outside and watched the other kids. Then, with half the neighborhood cheering him on, look what he did!

( I have no idea why my picture layouts are always this hoopty. I know it looks terrible, and I'm sorry!)

Fives are Twos

2006-10-26T07:12:00.000-07:00

I think 30 Rock might be my new favorite show. I like Tina Fey as Tina Fey, but I will watch her as Liz Lemon without too many complaints, really.

And we all KNOW that if there is complaining to be done, I am usually willing to do it.

Last Friday G came over and we hung out for awhile while she crocheted awesome scarves for homeless people. I admired them pretty enthusiastically I guess, because she tried talking me into taking one. And while I have no problem bitching about my new windows or the fact that I can afford to both work out and stick my kid in "Kids Klub" at the same time, I draw the line at taking scarves from the necks of people who live outside in Chicago in November. The depths I will plumb are pretty low, but COME ON.

We also watched Friends with Money and I have been wondering if I act a little too much like the Frances McDormand character ever since.

Then on Tuesday we met Claire in Michigan City, to do a little outlet shopping and catch up. Claire has been talking about us doing this for a while, and I'm so glad that we finally did- it was great to see her and little Miss JD. We had fun and exercised our adventure muscles by making the trip! The Hanna Andersson outlet is brilliant, both for the clothes and the train table that Johnny and Joie had some much fun playing with. Claire also takes the prettiest pictures:

I would love to show more, but they are too awesome for blogger to handle efficiently. Alas.

Race cars are wild, and fives are twos! Happy Thursday.

Poor Poor Pitiful Me

2006-10-20T05:46:00.000-07:00

Regarding yesterday, someone just slap me, okay? GOD.

INJURY REPORT, 10/19/06:

Yesterday, we took Nona to the doctor. Johnny was SUCH a good boy, crawling/walking around the office while being as quiet as toddlerly possible. In the office there were two round tables, about 2 feet tall that held magazines. They were marble topped. John was cruising around them, going back and forth between them when he bit it and landed cheek first on the marble edge of the table.

Yikes. He was pretty bummed out for about 5 seconds, and spent the rest of the day looking like he had a wire hanger wedged in his mouth. His cheek was puffy, red, and sort of pointy. Now there is a bruise that makes him look like a TOTALLY GOTH baby who sports black blush. Luckily we have the playgroup Halloween party on Saturday, so perhaps I'll dress him as Robert Smith, rock.

BEST TOY EVER REPORT, 10/20/06:

My mom bought Johnny this mirror/ball/hammer dealie a while back and he loves it. So far it has exceeded the shelf life of most of his toys with the exception of his baby iPod which he loves and will sit and play with for minutes at a time much to the dismay of my ever present pounding headache. Loud toys=awesome. Both toys are Parents brand, maybe it isn't a coincidence. Anyway, the mirror toy is the best I have found that even the big kids love it.

Satisfied customer!

Okay, I have to go get us ready for school/the elliptical. I'll spend this hour NOT feeling sorry for myself, I swear.

Our Very Stepford Life

2006-10-19T08:22:00.000-07:00

Guess what Johnny did yesterday?

He went to SCHOOL, WHOA.

In an effort to further shrink my ass, I decided to become a member at the fitness center again. It is close, has good equipment, and the weather seems to be conspiring against my walking schedule. It made sense to join. They have a little "Kids Klub" room, and parents are free to drop off their kids for a nominal fee during the day.

We used the service for the first time yesterday morning, and it was completely trauma-free. For Johnny, that is.

I had to force myself to stay upstairs, on the elliptical, for 40 minutes. Then I had to force myself to walk the track and stretch out for another 10. Don't get me wrong, I ALWAYS have to force myself to do these things, just not usually because my kid is downstairs in the "Kids Klub" with a bunch of strangers.

When I got back down there, Johnny was pushing a car around the room, not at all bothered by my absence. The teacher said he did very well.

So why do I have these little twinges of guilt?

It's weird. It's weird to go and pay to work out while I pay someone to watch my kid. It's this weird, privileged little life that I'm living. It's weird that I manage to spend a little money every day, while I'm not bringing much in. It's weird that I pay an organization to advise me on how to shrink my ass through diet. Why can't I do it for free?

What isn't weird is that I'm still searching for that side of meaningingful I talked about all those months ago.

I don't mean to post a series of angsty entries. Most days, I feel great. But there is something missing. Something.

We'll find it.

The Full Monty

2006-10-11T20:15:00.000-07:00

So, tonight I am thinking all of these things:

Boy, that Laura is a bitch. I mean, seriously. She gets enough camera time now, did she really have to go looking for more tonight? I liked her better when Jack Nicholson played her in Batman.
How come no one puts pot in my Burger King? Would it cost more points that way?
Speaking of points, GET ON TRACK, SELF. I don't need to stall out at 20 pounds. There are plenty more pounds to go.
Dear Celexa, I hate you.
Dear psychiatrist, you said it would take a week to adjust to my new dosage. Did you forget to mention how HARD that adjustment would feel? Good lord. I don't know what the hell I'm doing the last few days.
I had to go to a psychiatrist. Yikes, that was hard to do. I feel crazier somehow for having done it.
Everyone should go read this book. It is lovely.

It is a melancholy evening. Cold and windy, and I'm home alone. I think winter is starting. Johnny and I are glad that we have story time to go to tomorrow morning, as it was a really boring day for us. After just two days, we already miss the sun. We should have made plans to go to Florida with my parents next week.

But we're okay. Despite cold, melancholy and clouds- we're okay.

I'm Bringing Crabby Back

2006-10-05T17:46:00.000-07:00

Right now, it is 7:40 pm, and I'm counting down the seconds until I can put the laundry in the dryer so I can put myself to bed.

Any minute now.

I can't leave it in the washer, or it will develop the gafunky smell that I spent most of the spring trying to get out of my washer and most of my laundry. If people could see the things I Google, there would be some teasing, I assure you. More surprising is my success rate with weird googling. Folks talk about ANYTHING on the internet, sheesh. It was Pine Sol that did it finally, for those that are curious. Gross Pine Sol with a load of old rags because I felt too guilty to run the washer while it was empty as recommended by the Google gods.

So, because I am just REALLY LUCKY LIKE THAT, I got my period yesterday, like, early. A lot of days early. I'm usually really prepared for winning the monthly lottery- I set up the Red Tent right on the deck, and T takes over for a week to ten days.

Or I take a lot of Advil and make jokes about what it must look like to leave the scene of my own murder. So when I was super (pleasantly) surprised yesterday, I took two Advil at around 10:00 pm and went to bed.

I mean, I thought I took two Advil. Instead, I took two Advil PM's. Awesome.

See, I have no tolerance for medicine. I can't take Nyquil or Benadryl for fear of becoming Rip Van Winkle, the non-drowsy stuff makes my heart pound and my hands shake. It may be that I'm suggestible, but I prefer to think of it as having a delicate constitution. So last night, while in the throes of Accidental Advil Remorse, I composed fabulous, witty yet heartrending entries in my head and saw tracers on my ceiling. Then I passed out.

Equipped with a rockin' Accidental Advil hangover, I was in NO WAY prepared for today's suckfest of having to be out of the house all day while our new windows were being installed. (Poor me, having to suffer the indignities of shiny new windows, I know.) There were no naps, no properly gated play areas, and not enough caffeine in the WORLD. While it was so great to sleep with Johnny when he was an infant, it is just freaking terrible to try it now. My mom has a crib at her house, and I tried to put him down there, but he was having none of it. So I laid on the couch with him for a while. Well. There was head-butting, hair-pulling, and orifice spelunking GALORE going on. At one point he was pulling my hair with his teeth while one of his baby fingers was up my nose and another was fish-hooking my mouth. It was so restful!

Today, Johnny got one day older. And no laundry was left to stink up the washer overnight. And I have shiny new windows. And the Accidental Advil will be put somewhere out of my unsuspecting reach.

Tomorrow will be better.

A Weekend in the Suburbs

2006-10-01T17:53:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning, after Johnny and I braved the farmer's market with my folks, we picked up T and headed to Fall Fest to look at the pumpkins.

First Johnny had a little splendour in the grass.
Then he writhed around, dying to be put down so he could continue bashing his block against the pumpkins while we tried to take a nice family photo.

Clearly, his evil plan worked.

Sunday morning, my boys kindly let me sleep in. They weren't missing me or anything, as is evident by the joyous gleam in the kid's eye.

Here, we get a glimpse of the joyous gleam in his tonsils, too. Lucky us!

This is not a picture from the weekend, but earlier in the week. Do you know that I have gone a whole year liking only ONE picture of my son and I? Well, now there are two.

Rrrrrrandom

2006-09-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

Somedays I just don't even know where to start.

It feels like we are doing so much RIGHT around here, that the little wrongs can take me by surprise. The kind of surprise that hooks into my middle and drags me back a few steps. Sometimes, I remember last year around this time and shudder. I wasn't doing very well, I was hormone addled, bluesy, angry and ecstatic by turns. I am so protective of the little groove that we've got going now, that any misstep can make me feel like I'll be sent right back onto that merry go round.

Which is a silly waste of energy, so let's not feed that particular monster, huh?

Back to the so much right. Johnny is amazing- he's a whirling dervish of delight, spreading drool and cheer everywhere he goes. He continues to be super verbal, he'll tell you what the doggie says, what the lion says, and let you know when he's all done. He sleeps at night- goes to bed without fuss, and works out his own kinks during the eleven or twelve hours that he's in the crib. He builds blocks, puts donuts on the holder, and drives his little cars all over the house. He's a really easygoing kinda guy, and I love him awful.

He may never walk, drink from a cup OR make the complete transition from two naps to one, but hey, no biggie. I say these things with what I consider to be the proper amount of sarcasm and new-to-this-parenting-gig seriousness. I don't have anything to compare Johnny to, so sometimes perspective can be an elusive thing. Mostly? I just trust that everything will fall into place.

Lately, Johnny and I spend as much time as possible chasing the sun. I am not looking forward to being housebound this winter- I spent the spring and summer getting really good at getting us up and out multiple times per day. When I imagine what we'll do in the cold and snow, I... well, I just think it might could suck. We're out now, catching any and all of the indian summer that is left to us. Storing the warmth and sunlight in our sensory memory. Today at the forest preserve we saw a teeny baby garter snake. I may have transferred my fear of teeny baby garter snakes to the buddy. Sigh.

While fall has NEVER been the season to bring out my best qualities, I can say that having John around both inspires and forces me to keep it together. This has been my calmest, nicest fall in a number of years. And yes, it's true that I have to take a few deep breaths every so often, to avoid the hook in the middle feeling, it's also true that I know every single second of every single day that I'm okay. Everything is okay.

It makes me proud.

What else makes me proud you ask? Well, duh:

It Doesn't Matter

2006-09-20T06:02:00.000-07:00

How ever many times you go through it, it is still such a sad thing to have happen.

And yes, we can be tough, and our humor can be black, dark and shrivelled- but it is still sad.

Even if your best friend just had it happen, and even if she made the FUNNIEST JOKE I'VE EVER HEARD about the whole ordeal, I was sad for her and I'm sad for you.

The world should know that there was a baby for nineteen days.

Nineteen days is long enough to hope, dream, plan and fall in love.

I'm so sorry.

Progress Report

2006-09-19T06:28:00.000-07:00

Amazingly, I've actually been sticking to the weight loss thing. I've lost 18.5 pounds so far, and have half an Olsen twin to go before I reach goal. I feel great- I can squeeze into some old pre-pregnancy stuff, I have more energy, and I'm not starving.

Yay.

Amazingly, Johnny actually ate some carrots last night without spitting them all over himself. I am SO OVER this weird food phase we are going through. Awfully, I think he is really ready to cut out his morning nap- he's up there now, talking to his ceiling fan. It sounds like they agree that the morning nap is like, totally overrated. Thing is, THE MAMA doesn't agree. I am totally in love with the morning nap. When else to shower and guzzle coffee?

I never did talk about the wedding or the pregnancy scare, did I? Well, T and I stood up in his cousin's wedding a few weeks ago now, and the week leading up to the big day I thought I was pregnant. I wasn't. Where I was expecting wild relief and elation, there was confusion and a teeny bit of sadness. WEIRD.

Johnny and I advertise a thing we have in common- we both love his dad.

OMIGOD, CUTE.

LIKE, SO CUTE.

About Last Night

2006-09-14T07:30:00.000-07:00

This seals the deal.

Johnny ABSOLUTELY needs to read that freaking forest book. He has no idea how long the girls in Redwood could have survived on his dinner last night.

There was a beautiful steamed sweet potato,

Lovingly steamed green beans,

and DELICIOUS leftover pork tenderloin all chopped up into teeny bits.

What does the kid do?

(You all know where this is going, right?)

UnBELEIVable. And then, to add insult to injury? He finally decides I'm speaking his culinary language when I break out the BABY GOLDFISH.

There were a shocking few of these on the floor, I assure you.

How else to convey that the only goldfish he'll find in the forest are the ones swimming in the post-nuclear pools but insist he read the damn book? Never mind that there won't be anything BABY about those mutant freaks. Shape it up, buddy or it's acorn mush, white tea and fern fronds in lieu of wipes, you got me?

Wednesday

2006-09-13T06:20:00.000-07:00

Poor Johnny.

He decided to celebrate the birth of Sean's baby brother by getting five shots. FIVE SHOTS.

We found out a while back that we had maxed out Johnny's well care benefits prior to the completion of his first year of well... care. He had a set of vaccinations to go, and two more visits scheduled before the calendar re-set of his benefits. I didn't think it was a huge deal, as there will be fewer and fewer well care visits as he gets older. We'll never be in a position like this again with Johnny. Unless the modern world collapses and we all have to move to the forest, that is. Then he'll be vaccinated with kindling and tree sap. Our awesome pediatrician told us that Johnny could receive the last set of his one-year vaccinations at the County Clinic as a way to defray costs.

I don't know if it was because we had been waiting so long by the time we got in the room or what, but I guess I lost my sense totally. Otherwise, I don't think my son would have ended up getting FIVE SEPARATE, HORRIBLE STICKS in one day. While I held him. Oh, god. I didn't feel comfortable asking for two nurses at the same time, so Johnny could get half the sticks. I didn't feel comfortable asking why the HELL they had to use his arm for the last vaccination. His baby arm. I didn't feel comfortable asking why we had to do all of this now, as opposed to following the schedule. (Johnny was given everything he needed through the age of two yesterday) and now? Now I don't feel comfortable displaying my suburban, naive, sheltered sensibility any more. We are lucky to have the care we have had since the birth of John. We are lucky that normally I feel TOTALLY comfortable harassing the medical staff that have given him that care.

He's mostly okay today. He slept all night, and he's trying so hard to be a happy guy, but his arm hurts- hence the crying every time he puts a little weight on it. Poor buddy.

"Okay mommy, that's enough whining about your premium baby receiving what you consider to be less-than-premium care. Clean the keyboard instead, huh?"

Monday

2006-09-11T06:41:00.000-07:00

I'm mad at Gabi.

I want to sell all my unnecessary belongings, reevaluate my efforts to conserve and die of shame for being a materialistic pig.

I read Into the Forest on her recommendation and I can hardly look around my house today without feeling some massive guilt.

Thanks, Gabi!

Here's Johnny, "helping" me clean the basement and wasting the precious resources of our planet. Geez Johnny, haven't you ever read Into the Forest?

More to come this week. I have to tell you about The! Wedding! and The! Pregnancy! Scare!

But not today. Today I feel quiet. And guilty.

Thanks, Gabi!

His Right Hand Knows What His Left Hand Holds

2006-08-31T19:41:00.000-07:00

I've been noticing all the time what a big boy Johnny seems like lately. Maybe it's his new fall wardrobe, or maybe he is just becoming a (gasp) big boy, but it is wild. He teeters all over the joint, pulling himself up to greater heights, he's taking a REAL interest in the contents of counter tops and table tops and buffet tops oh my.

Um, I think I missed the memo on Child Proofing, Part Deux.

He bends at the waist now to pick something up, rather than squatting. He'll find himself standing unassisted and crash to the floor, outraged to have been unsupported for even a fraction of a second. "Boom!" I tell him. "Bem!" he'll reply, and laugh hysterically. He'll pull books off of the shelves in his room and pillows off of his rocking chair, "Bem, bem, bem!" In the tub at night he'll throw all of the toys up in the air. "Bem!" He'll say. "Splash," I say. "Spas, spas, spas!" They are tiny rubber bath toys that make tiny little spases. So why do I emerge from the bathroom looking like I caught in a downpour? Yesterday he shocked the shit out of me by crawling over to his favorite book. "Mama, Mama" he said. The name of the book? MAMA MAMA. Could you die?

And so I never forget because I love the hell out of this habit: He tools around the house ALL DAY with one item clutched in his left hand. Be it a block or a teething ring, remote or telephone. He must have it at all times. Apparently, it's his gasoline or something.

I was taking a walk with my neighbor last night, talking about how much fun I have with him, how great it is now. She's the mom of five and three year-old kids, and she laughed with me, saying what a huge fan she is of the toddler phase. Consider me a convert. I'm the hugest fan of John Joseph that there is.

Nick to tha Name

2006-08-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

I bought the recent issue of People so I could foster my near obsession with the parenting free fall that seems to be Britney Spears' method of choice.

At one point in the interview she discussed what she calls Sean Preston. I think she said "boo-boo" or "poo-poo" or something like that, but she acknowledged that it changed all the time.

I totally relate. Call me country, I guess.

Johnny has had about 2,000 goofy nicknames since being born. Peeg, Meester, Bugga, Bubba, Googly-Goo, Johnny Joe, Johnny Jay, JJ, the list is endless and imperfect. I had a childhood nickname. One that stuck, permanently. My grandmother started to call me Apple Dumpling when I was really little and I guess it must have taken too long to say, because it was eventually shortened to..... ( I can't believe I'm going to put this on the internet) Dumps. Omigod. Dumps. I have to say, I loved it- it never sounded like toilet humor coming from my gram. But, Dumps? Jesus, that is awful coming from anyone else, you know? Still, it was perfect and charming and so me and her.

I've never been able to settle on our signature nickname. So we switch it up a lot and wait for the moniker that will add up to the sum of us.

Here is the handsome little devil, the player to be named later:

Things to Do

2006-08-23T06:37:00.000-07:00

Man. We are having a ROUGH time at Casa A these days. There are fevers, tears, screams and a general dissatisfaction with the universe. Johnny's pediatrician told us there were two molars poking through the gum line when we took him for his one-year visit. He warned us that there might be some, erm, trouble as a result.

Yeah. Trouble. So here is what we do to distract the buddy from his miserable self:

His new push car. I love it for shorter walks. It's light, easy, and there is the added bonus of watching how Johnny rolls- with one hand on the wheel and one arm out the window.
The wagon. I'm not super confident pulling around the 'hood yet, but we're working on it. He loves it.
Sidewalk chalk. Art therapy. Dusty teething sticks. Whatever works, man.
The swing. My god, he loves the swing.

I am never inside these days, which is fine. I stupidly let myself get sunburned yesterday though.

So, how many more teeth is this kid going to get anyway?

Because it'll be cold soon. Then we're screwed.

Scenes From an Italian Birthday Party

2006-08-20T07:05:00.000-07:00

There is no bottle of red, by the way. It's just a bottle of white- formula.

So the party.

It was baseball-themed, because I must not have enough to do. Therefore it seems like a good idea to get all worked up over invitations and clever props and cakes that match. We had a hot dog cart, peanuts and cracker jacks on all the tables, enough balloons to float a high chair, and great music courtesy of Uncle Matt. He set up his cool iPod and we listened to a constant loop of baseball music- he even had cool organ music downloaded!

Almost everyone came in their favorite baseball attire, there was a bounce house for the kids, and enough food to feed the entire farm league.

Also? It was fun. You know how sometimes it is just impossible to have fun at your own party? Well, this was nothing like that. T and I both had a lot of fun- number 11,068 on the list of ways Johnny has changed us. Thanks, Johnny!

Johnny and Grampa- two of my three favorite outfits, the third being a Durham Bulls jersey, worn by one of our buddies.

He really didn't know how to feel about the singing. Really.

Why did I leave his outfit on? Dumb. Thank god for Oxi, because he will wear that Detroit Tigers onesie again.

One of these kids is doing their own thing. Their own thing meaning cheering for the GOOD GUYS, that is. Johnny was in outfit #2 by then, and not at all excited about the opening of presents.

It really was a great party. Maybe next year we'll have ponies!

Happy Birthday, Baby

2006-08-14T17:36:00.000-07:00

Then:
Now:

I didn't believe it could happen this fast, or that I could love this much. John Joseph is a great teacher.

Zoo! Baby!

2006-08-11T05:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we took John to the zoo.

The Butterflies were very pretty.

The Carousel was warmly received.

The Mama got a nice cuddle.

So did the Daddy.

Overall, three opposable thumbs up.

During the trip, I kept checking up on S, who was in labor with the new baby. At noon, she was dilated to 5. The next time I called at 1:30, her mom quickly told me they were having a baby, and we hung up. I sat there for a minute, crying, and T told me to just go to the hospital. So I took his advice, and even though I was there 10 minutes after the last phone call, I fully expected to have missed the birth- S is an EXPERT baby-birther, you see. I didn't miss it, though. I knew S would have been okay with me being in the room, but the baby was face-up, and she was working really hard. I figured I'd be a distraction. I did stay near the doorway to listen and it was awesome. S sounded totally composed, focused and FIERCE during the last stages of the birth. When I heard the doctor say it was a girl, I burst into tears and shouted "It's Rowan!" Then I walked in to see her and fell in love, instantly.

Rowan Elizabeth A. was born at 1:52 pm, weighing 7 pounds 9 ounces. She is 20 inches long.

I can't wait to take her to the zoo.

To-Do List

2006-08-04T05:25:00.000-07:00

Bachelorette Party- today at 3pm
Bridal Shower- Sunday, 11am
Rehearsal Dinner- Wednesday, coughpm. (Help! I forget what time!)
Wedding- Friday, 3pm
Breakfast with revelers- Saturday, 9am
GET READY FOR HUGE PARTY
John's Birthday Party- Sunday, 2pm

After his party, we switch gears, and get ready for the next wedding, on September 9.

Whoa. Whoa.

Meanwhile here is John's list:

Check out VCR
Poop
Climb stairs
Check out garbage can
Grow more teeth
Hit everything in the house with a block
Be really, stinking cute

T is on vacation this week, so I'm hoping we can sneak in a date on Monday or Tuesday- but I suspect we are both going to be crazily consumed with all we have to do to get the house and yard ready for the party. That means he will stress out about the way the garage and the gardens look, and I'll freak out that I've missed some cobweb, somewhere. I think this week may be a big ol' blur when it's all over. A big ol' fun blur, but still.

When I was taking these two pictures, he kept saying "no, no... no." As in: "I realize I'm not technically supposed to play with the TV/DVD/VCR, mama. I'm still going to do it, though. Can we agree to disagree?"

Sure we can, Johnny. No problem.

Captain Danger

2006-07-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

Seriously.

You hear the stories about the time a parent "turned their head for a MINUTE," and, if you are HUGE ASSHOLE like me, you roll your eyes as soon as the person looks away. You figure that they probably were talking on the phone, paying bills and juggling torches while Junior was digging through the knife drawer. No wonder something bad happened, right?

Well. Consider me a totally reformed, former HUGE ASSHOLE because today it happened to me. I turned around for one second, before we were headed out the door and what I saw when I turned back about stopped my heart. My son was crawling toward me with a huge smile on his face, and a mouthful of blood. A lot of blood. Like, Jaws a lot. Like a scene out of Slap Shot a lot.

God.

I have no idea how he split the inside of his lip, but there you go- he did, and it only took a second, and man I must have aged about 29 years this morning.

God.

Poor little person.

Where I've Been and Oh My God.

2006-07-21T08:11:00.000-07:00

Well, it's just been too hot to post. Or breathe, or do anything. Did you know I'm not pregnant this summer and I'm REALLY GLAD about that? Dear pregnant ladies everywhere- it's too hot to be pregnant! Celebrate some other holiday, and leave Christmas and New Year's Eve out of it, okay? Love, me.

So I have been one of four places in the past three weeks: hanging with my boys, at Weight Watchers, at a voice lesson or working out.

First, what is remarkable about any of this is that way back when I wrote the post about the sex book I had decided that some things needed to change around here. Well. The ratio of me making a big decision/pronouncement on change to change actually ocurring? Oh, not so much in my favor.

This time, it is quietly working out, and I'd like to keep it quiet for fear of fucking it all up per my usual MO. So, quietly as possible, I've lost nine pounds so far, and my voice will be ready for the two places I'm to use it in August. I feel good about these developments, I'm reaping the benefits of living more healthily and now let's just shush up about all of it.

As for the Oh My God portion of things, there are 128 people invited to John's first birthday. Yep. 128. OH MY GOD.

It isn't really our fault, T has 4 brothers, 1 sister and 12,000 first cousins. Most of those cousins really got into the whole "be fruitful and multiply" thing, so when we count a family it has 10 or so members. I know that there will be plenty of folks who can't come, and there won't be anywhere near 128 people all milling around our backyard, but still. That is such an obnoxious number.

T has been on vacation this week, and we took John to the Children's Museum on Wednesday. John had fun playing with blocks and balls that were only slightly different from the blocks and balls that he plays with all day at home. Also, he is cute. Also, we can't WAIT until he can participate more fully in these little excursions because, FUN.

A Failure to Communicate

2006-07-11T08:13:00.000-07:00

The nice thing about spending the majority of my time with a person who only says a few monosyllabic words is the narrow margin of error. We don't have much chance of misunderstanding each other, or offending each other with our conversations. Good thing, because let me tell you, for the last week or so, I feel that I'm full of the WRONG THINGS TO SAY, UPSETTING AND ANGERING PEOPLE EVERYWHERE.

Irritating!

Oh, but let's talk about Johnny who is becoming more communicative and expressive every day. He greets us with a casual "hi!" when we walk into his room in the morning or after naps now. He also uses "uh-oh" somewhat appropriately- (I've tried to explain to him that it isn't really an "uh-oh" if you fling the item across the room on purpose, but he remains skeptical). There are hints of "mama" and "dada" but I don't really believe he knows what those words mean yet. We have this game we play to try and distract him from the PAIN AND AGONY that is a diaper change in our house- I point to myself and say "mama" and then poke him in the belly and say "JOHNNY!" He loves it, and I've noticed that lately, he'll preemptively cover his belly and laugh, waiting for what he knows is coming. It makes me a little melty, to observe each revelation. I shouldn't smugly wonder if he's a genius, but I confess to doing just that.

He's pulling himself up, trying to sofa surf all over the house. He's got six teeth, he REFUSES to hold his own bottle or drink from a cup, he writhes and whines if someone has the NERVE to try and hold him for even a little bit, when he knows he could instead be crusing around, checking things out for himself. He sings when he hears music, an off-key "ha-HAhahahahaHAAAA," he waves to himself with his teeny fingers and laughs, "hihihihihi," he'll say.

I took him to the pool for the first time last week, and after some minor crabbing while adjusting the temperature of the water, he decided he really loved it. He sat in that zero-depth water, YELLING and shaking his baby fists at all the kids trying to tell them to behave, or have more fun, or stop splashing or SOMETHING. He was the only life guard there wearing a swim diaper, I told everyone later.

I don't want to forget any minute of this. Well, maybe the poopy diapers, but that's it, I swear.

Tongue Tied

2006-07-06T11:29:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it through the wedding. I don't know exactly what to say about it right now other than I'm glad I didn't not go.

Here, have some CUTE!

A Point to Prove

2006-06-30T07:28:00.000-07:00

Ugh.

T and I have a wedding to go to tomorrow, and it is causing me all kinds of undue stress. First, there is the clothing issue; deciding which articles of clothing will best conceal your post-baby fat is no small feat.

Then there is the guest list. There will be a bunch of folks there that I haven't seen in a long time. Most of them don't know that I am sane now, a generally happy person living a generally contented life. I was different when I used to see most of these folks regularly- I was flirting with disaster, trying to save a person who didn't want to be saved, who almost talked me into sinking to the bottom with him. It musn't have been very fun to watch, and I don't blame anyone who wrote me off back then.

So to see them tomorrow is making me really nervous. I've been ridiculously preparing for it by buying a new dress, waxing, tweezing, polishing, etc.

And shamefully, I've been trying to get a really cute picture of my son to carry with me in case anyone asks. No ordinary picture will do, you see. It has to be the cutest picture that ever cuted.
I am gross and ASHAMED and trying to USE MY SON AS EVIDENCE OF MY REDEMPTION.

But more importantly, which one do you like better?

Man, I reallyreallyreally don't even know why we're going.

The Post You're Looking For

2006-06-28T21:03:00.000-07:00

If you are Gabi, that is.

Not long ago, I read this entry, and my head almost popped off my neck what with all the vehement nodding in agreement. I did NOT go and read the referenced article at Blogging Baby because I decided that no, no I don't need to feel any worse about this particular subject than I already do.

Coincidentally, right around the same time Kristin wrote about those crazy, nymphomaniac Australians, my neighbor started talking about Heidi Raykeil's book. Of course, my neighbor talked about the book in front of T, who thought that I should REALLY GET A COPY OF THAT, LIKE, YESTERDAY. So after the neighbor and her husband both read it, we inherited their copy. I finished it a week or so ago, and I'm just waiting for the sheets to combust with all the HOT, ENSUING ACTION.

Do you think anyone in my family is still reading? God, I hope not.

T is reading it now, and I hope that we can use it as a springboard for discussions that won't end in us pulling out the giant scoreboard that we keep under the bed, noting who has done more on what day than the other and therefore is the WINNER. Because that? Is not hot. Raykeil talks a lot about the division of labor and it's impact on intimacy. About how loving the teeny tiny human being that you both made can leave little room for loving each other if you aren't careful. About how what used to be easy now requires forethought, planning and determination. She talks about how hard it is to just fucking relax, sometimes, when you're worrying about the baby sleeping, worrying about the precious minutes ticking away before naptime is over. All those things? Also not hot.

I was struck by how little I know about what is to come as John gets older. How scary that feeling is, and how it contributes to all of the not hotness that we are currently suffering from. I stay home with him, and as the days fly by, I wonder what I'm going to be when I/he grow(s) up. Champion stain remover? Fastest diaper change in the (Mid)West? Marathon vacuum runner? Don't mistake me, those are valuable assets to my job. I do not discount them, or the job that I do. I'm looking for all of that with a side of more meaningful in the broader sense, if you know what I mean.

I have become so comfortable here, in the last 11 months. We have our cozy little nest that I continue to feather. I think I've lost myself a little in the process. Okay, I know it. I want to know that I can be somebody's mother AND somebody's wife.

And just someBODY, too.

Gabi and I went to see a play a few weeks ago- partly to have a fun night out, and partly because we went to school with one of the actors. After the show, we went out with her, and caught up. Gabi told her about my blog and she asked me what I could possibly have to write about. "Went to Target today, bought Pampers," she teased, in her very actor-ly way. She didn't mean to insult or deride and honestly, in the moment it was very funny. But later, I wondered if she didn't have a point, there. I mean, I'm not solving the problems of the world, here or anything. Shit, I'm barely making it out of the nest somedays. I'm certainly not placing the proper amount of emphasis on the relationship I have with my husband. All of those things? Necessary. Important.

So, out we fly. We're choking on all these feathers. Wish us luck.

Peek-A-Boo

2006-06-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

Johnny sees you!

As predicted, I have totally forgotten there was any kind of life before crawling. It seems that I've always been chasing John around, deflecting his fingers from light sockets and just generally playing baby defense. He loves cords, lifting the corners of our area rugs and dirty shoes. Safe AND hygienic, that's my boy!

We've done some babyproofing and continue to evaluate our surroundings. The thing is, while I don't want to say no all the time to what is totally appropriate, curious behavior, I also don't want to change every aspect of our home. I know that Johnny needs to learn how to play in a 3-D world, but does it have to contain only soft items with no edges? And by short-cutting the situations where I'd be forced to say no, do I ensure he'll be playing in the oven the minute I turn my back?

Parental philosophical dilemmas are so boring.

Better Than a Band-Aid

2006-06-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

OKAY.

I have started and deleted thirteen sentences here, so far.

Sunday was my first truly wonderful Father's Day. First? Read this. Really, what a beautiful entry, and what a total 180 from anything I ever had.

My father, the guy who donated his genetic material? Not so much with the family devotion. To be fair, I had it better than most in a lot of ways because there is Paul who didn't have to love or like us, who was not related to us, but did both anyway. Paul takes the step out of step-dad. I admit, though- reading Christy's entry does inspire a certain yearning in me that I long to get over, and may never be able to.

EXCEPT.

There is T. There is this person who loves our son so totally and tenderly that I feel old scars and scabs fading all the time. Who heals me by virtue of being everything I imagined a father should be to his child. I could go on, but words can't ever do justice to the amazing relationship between my husband and my son. My heart, my world, and now... my classroom.

I love you, T. Johnny loves you, too. Happy F#$%*n' Father's Day.

Gone in .6 Seconds

2006-06-16T05:19:00.000-07:00

Nowhere in my "What to Expect the First Year" book does it say that at some point, my kid will start crawling so freaking fast that it isn't wise to turn around AT ALL KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE KID AT ALL TIMES, DUMBASS.

I resent that.

Here is what happened yesterday in the space of a millisecond.

That last picture looks nothing like Johnny. He has morphed from the delight of movement, clearly. Right after this picture was taken, I picked him up and he gave me one of his HUGE, OPEN-MOUTHED, VERY JUICY kisses with a lot of nibble. I love those kisses. I love that kid.

Yesterday, he started saying "Uh-Oh" a LOT. He sat in his bath, saying "Uh-Oh, Uh-Oh, UH-OH, UH-oooooooh. UUUUUUUHHHHHH-OOOOOOH. He has no idea what it means, he just likes to say it. Kind of like when George Bush talks about peace, no?

UH-OH.

TARTAR SAUCE!

2006-06-14T11:24:00.000-07:00

So, it only took him about 23 hours to figure out that pillows are no match for his clever mind, to say nothing of his beefy brawn.

I just totally grossed myself out with that last part, there.

Now what? My brilliant plans are foiled, my internet surfin', laundry load changin', quick tooth-brushin' while the baby is awake days are OVAH.

Seriously, not that I was queen multi-task before, but now? HOW, I ASK YOU HOW am I to get things done?

Okay, so I might be exaggerating a bit. I throw him in the backpack when I'm out watering the flowers or doing other gardening stuff. (Dear gardening, I hate you. Dear flowers, water yourSELVES, lazy asses.) I put him in the high chair or pack -n- play when I absolutely have to leave his side for a second- like to relieve my pesky bladder, or to fix some food for one of us. It's just such a change, is all. And ALL CHANGE IS BAD. Why adjust when you can complain is my motto.

We're having friends over for dinner tomorrow night. My house is FILTHY, my fridge is empty and my attitude? Let's not GO there. It will be interesting to see if I can get it all together to my satisfaction with Mr. CrampsMyStyle underfoot.

Because obviously I'm not into taking care of any of it right now, while my pretty one sleeps. I have laundry to change, teeth to brush, internets to surf.

Can't. Sit. Down.

2006-06-13T15:36:00.000-07:00

Why did I want him to crawl so freaking bad?

No, really, why?

I've been itching to write about how things are now at our house, how every thing we own poses some fatal threat to the little streak of flesh-covered lightning that lives here. How I'm so TIRED. I wondered about my fatigue this weekend, about how maybe it meant something else, something sinister. But then John took four hours of naps for three days straight and still slept all night, so I figured that he's as tired out by his sudden mobility as I am.

Or, he was saving up for last night's THREE HOUR TANTRUM EXTRAVAGANZA during the wee hours.

Not that I'm bitter.

I can't seem to find time for fun activities that don't involve crawling patrol, stapling all my furniture to the ceiling in a babyproofing frenzy, or rocking back and forth with my head in my hands while John is sleeping, readying myself for the next bout of babychasing.

Crawling=OVERRATED, BITCHES.

Anyway, I know we'll figure out this crawling business with a modicum of devastating injury. And I'll soon forget that there used to be any other way. In the meantime, there are pillows. LOTS AND LOTS OF PILLOWS.

Date Appropriate Behavior

2006-06-06T06:27:00.000-07:00

Oh my ~~GOD~~ DAMIEN.

It is only 8:31 in the morning and we are already having a day. Johnny has done a face plant on the floor twice, ruined two perfectly lovely diapers and sets of pajamas, and has not stopped expressing his DISPLEASURE with the world in general since about 5:00 a.m.

Awesome.

Maybe there really is another one of those elusive teeth about to come in, or maybe Johnny just won't rest until we see this. I kind of hope it is the tooth, really. I don't like Julia Stiles. Johnny wouldn't like her either, but wait- HE DOESN'T LIKE ANYTHING TODAY, ALL IS WOE, GEEZ.

He did have a really funny moment before I put him down for his morning nap. We finally got a video camera, and I've been recording on and off since we woke up. (Great day to record for posterity, let me tell you.) Well, I figured out how to play the recording back and watch on the little monitor guy, and Johnny thought it was hilarious and amazing by turns to hear and see his ownself. Maybe we'll just spend our day watching him on playback, to avoid any further crabbing.

Wish us luck with that.

Here is the most recent set of cuteness:

Looking at those, it must be easy to think I'm a liar, and that all the kid ever does is smile. Hmm, it MUST be the date!

Not Yet a Woman, Yaddayaddayadda

2006-05-24T21:53:00.000-07:00

I'll just bust right out with it.

I feel sorry for her.

Does this make me a sucker? I mean, I don't think she's a shoo-in for mom of the year or anything, but honestly, neither am I. So color me grateful that there aren't a pack of photographers documenting my every move. My gratitude may have something to do with my fashion and grooming, true- but it also has something to do with the fact that shit happens.

Shit does not happen when it comes to carseats, that isn't what I'm saying. But I think there are a lot of moms who have been there. You're baby is wailing, your instincts are screaming at you to do something. Now. Right now. That something doesn't have to be drive around with your baby on your lap, I grant you. Johnny rides in his seat, facing the rear of our car. He has fallen asleep and pitched forward once or twice. I have in two extreme cases, removed him from his seat for a short amount of time while someone else was behind the wheel. This was not a popular choice. Shit happens.

This recent furor? This one? Dang. I walk out of our house with a diaper bag, my purse, my keys, and my baby in my arms. I haven't tripped, but it doesn't mean I won't ever. I hope I don't, but I also hope that if I ever do we'll be okay and we won't be surrounded by flash-popping jackals either way.

There was a moment last Friday night when I was giving Johnny his bath. We'd eaten dinner over at our neighbor's house, and I had a couple of nervous breakdowns while we were there. I was kind of.... weaving around during the bedtime marathon. In my quest to take the edge off, I had inadvertantly become a bolster is what I'm saying, here. Things like this don't happen often in our house, but they happen. It just doesn't end up in US Magazine.

Britney Spears is young and she CLEARLY undermarried. She is pregnant again, so soon after the birth of her son, she is followed night and day by folks who want to make a buck catching her just being human. Perhaps she should cease and desist on the persistant thong exposure and avoid the black bra, white shirt combo. Perhaps she should check out better concealer. She should absolutely just chew gum or something every time she gets the urge to post a poem on her website. Perhaps we should all give her a break.

It is a long, graceless adjustment for some of us, this mothering business. But we've got our anonymity to protect us. I am so hard on myself, especially when it comes to taking care of John. I can't imagine facing the nation on the parenting choices I've made in these short nine months. Ugh.

Oooh, it's all sudsy up here, now.

And let me go ahead and give you what you're REALLY here for:

DIG the fake smile! He has decided that is the quickest, most painless way to make mommy move the silver box away from her face. Do you think he must know EXACTLY how Britney feels?

I Am Here

2006-05-15T06:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was really nice.

We did morning brunch, we did late afternoon coffee and cake, we did a lot of nothing in between. Specifically, we watched the Cubs lose AGAIN and planted flowers in between. Overall an ideal day, except for the Flubs.

We got home and after the bedtime marathon, I called my mom for our usual evening post-mortem. We chatted for awhile, and then she gave the phone to Paul. "Happy Mother's Day," he said.

"Thank you, we missed you at brunch."

"Thank you for Johnny Joe." (It IS a weird nickname. But I love it. I digress.)

"Your welcome, it was no trouble at all."

"Thank you for all you did to get him here. I really appreciate it."

Over the huge lump that suddenly formed in my throat, I managed to croak, "Thanks, Paul."

We ended our conversation shortly after this exchange, and when I tried to tell T what we had talked about, I ended up snotting all over the couch.

Because it is amazing what this little baby has done. How he makes everything seem new and funny and fantastic. How he makes even the biggest vulnerability bearable, even easy. How he has moved us all, just by being born.

If there is a map of my heart, it is Johnny that tells me I am here. What a great place here has turned out to be.

Closer to Fine

2006-05-09T13:43:00.000-07:00

I think I should clear something up.

Based on the amount of concern generated by a recent post I am compelled to explain my process, here.

Worst case scenario + redundant whining - perspective = my state of mind.

Just sometimes, though.

I am grateful to be worried about, to be loved. And I'm okay, I promise.

Caught in the Act

2006-05-05T05:38:00.000-07:00

Told you! I have to say, this is one of my favorite milestones so far. He loves to sit up and play with toys for a long time, like, 20 minutes in a row. That? Is awesome.

And here is where he makes a liar out of me. I always tell S how freaking cute he is right after a nap. I usually find him doing his half push-ups in the crib, smiling hugely when he sees me at the door. I always tell her that I should have a camera, so the whole world can see how cute that smile looks from between the bars of his crib. So she told me to get a picture of it, duh. Right. Here is how I found him after yesterday's nap. Totally happy, and not at all how I described.

The Damage Done

2006-05-03T07:20:00.000-07:00

I've been taking one of my usual bad attitude breaks.

For a variety of reasons, I am blue lately. Nothing serious, just.... blah. Perhaps it is the arrival of warm weather and the non-departure of the remaining baby weight. Perhaps it is the bad hair. Didn't I go through this last spring? What the hell, hair?

Perhaps it is because Johnny started sneezing and sniffling on Saturday and it is freaking me out.

Maybe it is nothing- maybe it is teeth or weather related. I can't help but to clench my fists and my jaw though, waiting for the shit to hit the fan.

I think that what this really is, this bluesy uninvited feeling that WON'T GO AWAY DAMMIT has to do with how I feel now that we are past the pneumonia. And now that we are past the pneumonia, I realize that I don't ever want to be in the middle of the pneumonia again. The pediatrician told us that there is a 30% chance of this recurring every time cold sypmptoms develop. Awesome. So every time there are sneezes or sniffles we may have to deal with a kid who can't breathe, can't stop coughing, and can't sleep. Of course I'm wondering what happened to make this... happen. Of course I end up wondering if I could have just tried for a little longer to nurse him, it would have HAD to work, and then we wouldn't be in this mess! Here is where I should mention that clearly, I'm not over the bottle feeding. Here is also where I should mention that finding a Johnny-sized hamster ball is sounding better and better to me.

I know that this is dumb. I'm wasting energy and time worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet. I know that it probably isn't my fault. I KNOW that I am lucky, and he's healthy, and we aren't dealing with anything serious. I know that if we do end up in the middle of the pneumonia again we'll end up being okay.

But okay sucks, you know? I'm into perfect. Especially for that little person who I HATE to see miserable. Ugh. I need to quit talking about it now, or there will be tears and whining.

I tried to post pictures of Mr. Sits Up By Himself, but I can't seem to upload. Hmm, bitchy posting and no cute baby pictures? Aren't you glad you stopped by?

Now, A Word From Our Spawnsor

2006-04-21T15:58:00.000-07:00

He's feeling a little better today. His daddy is feeling a little older today.

T, everything is more fun with you. We love you, happy birthday.

Oh. My. God.

2006-04-19T18:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, so no Rotavirus, the doctor thinks that he just had a reaction to going on then off of his oral steriod.

But he does have pneumonia.

We'll look back on this and laugh, right?

You Probably Won't Believe Me

2006-04-18T17:33:00.000-07:00

John has Rotavirus.

It is like we won the germ LOTTERY.

Send booze.