Do I look ok?
Let me wipe my eyes and face again. Do you know that the only thing in my office that I had to wipe my face with was a disposable sesame street bib from my purse?
Is my mascara running?
Ok. I feel better. Now I can talk about it.
I had a two hour crying in my office meltdown this morning.
I was blissfully working (or reading blogs, one or the other) and my boss called to say that she had a real problem approving my leave for the 21st. El husbando is going to be TDY and my inlaws will be in Michigan and its the first day of school, so my parents are not able to take the boy. So, that leaves me. But boss is stuck on the fact that it is the first day of school and I get her point, I do. And I know in my heart that she didn't mean to hurt me when she asked if there wasn't anyone else I could leave him with. And I'm proud that I didn't cry until after I hung up.
But, I did. And once the tears came I couldn't stop them. I couldn't figure out why it was bothering me so much.
I thought I was better, but I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach and even after R offered to watch him, because she's home on Mondays anyway, I still couldn't stop myself from crying.
When I was on my way home, I realised why. This is the first time in all of my motherhood that I felt there was a barrier between me and my kid. It was the first time that being a working mom socked me in the stomach and it sucked, big time. I'm so used to just taking time whenever I need it to be home with him, and that has been special to me. My way of getting a taste of being a SAHM and being able to work, too.
My boss signed the leave form, and she wasn't meaning to be mean, and frankly I think this had more to do with my own weird issues about working and being a mom and wondering what my role is when el husbando is doing such a great job at home, blah blah blah. But, man, I am drained from crying.
I think I'll take him to R's. She's great with him. He loves her and he can play with Z. I could stay home, because my slip is signed. I don't know what I'll do yet. I've got three weeks to figure it out.
Tomorrow we're going to Knotts Berry Farm. The weather has finally relented a bit. It was actually less than 80 in my house last night and today and its less than 80 at work and when I went shopping it was less than 80 in those places, too. Woohoo. Yesterday, our breeze returned and the humidity abated, and it actually sunk below 100 and I think we all wanted to just go outside and stand in it. We were there procaliming "Isn't it wonderful! 97! isn't it lovely! Its so cool! I need a sweater" ok....we didn't go that far. Well, I am wearing a short sleeved sweater....
I couldn't believe Allison was voted off of So You Think You Can Dance last night.
I'm rambling. Give me a bit, I may pull myself together yet.*
*Never mind, I have to tell you about my freak out from last night first.
Liam hadn't been outside all day. Inside he managed to get a mosquito bite. On his earlobe. They seem to love his earlobes. I was freaking the hell out. There was a sentinal chicken two blocks from us found with West Nile. Of course I was telling myself that the very same mosquito that bit that chicken flew two blocks and snuck into my house on the belly of a dog and bit Liam on the ear and now he was going to contract a horrible disease and I would lose him when I'm just getting to know him. It was awful. Rachel, I know you understand how this is. But, I thought of you and your post yesterday and I am trying, really I am, to not have fear.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Oh! I know what I wanted to write about.
Months ago, a student came to me and told me that my husband was cheating on me.
Oh, go on. You believed that? I didn't.
I don't know what possessed this woman that I barely know to tell me that she saw my husband with another woman. That seems to be information that should come from someone that I'm on more than a first name basis with. I was looking over her shoulder for a camera from that ueber-objectionable show Cheaters on the WB. (More on how loathesome I find that show later. If I have the time or the inclination).
Anyway, not for one second, while I stood there open-mouthed at her audacity and the idiotic half-hidden grin that she was sporting, did I think that el husbando was cheating.
My husband? I said
Yes.
Him. she says. right there, as she pointed across the room to S.
I laughed literally out loud. Until my stomach hurt. Bent over in two.
That's not my husband. I tell her.
But he had your baby with him.
No, that was his baby.
And she had the nerve to look disappointed.
People often make assumptions about us. I mean, not to get all When Harry Met Sally on us, but I don't know why people can't just assume that a male and a female are friends. Good friends. Those that know us well know that it isn't just S and I that are friends, but that our mothers, our spouses and our children are friends. They just see the two of us (if my parents aren't around, cause they work here, too) and jump to conclusions.
Sometimes I think it is funny, but that one just irritated me to the core. Do you know why? Because she seemed to think that the possible break-up of a marriage would be funny. I can't even begin to tell you how vile that I think that is. Marriage vows are a sacred covanent with the couple and God. I did not undertake mine lightly. I waited until I was in my 30s to find my soul-mate, and the one who would carry me through my life.
For me there is little so sad as the dissolution of a marriage. I'm serious. The news, and daily life, are often full of announcements of divorce and literally every single one causes me physical pain. I know that some marriages need to end, and I applaud the people that get out of them, but I firmly believe that most of those are marriages people had no business being in in the first place. I get angry by how lightly marriage is treated these days. People trip off and get married, as if it isn't anything more than a weeklong reservation at a resort. They know they'll stay a short time, enjoy it while it lasts and then leave.
Or when people head into marriage hoping that somehow that ring will change a person's personality so drastically that marriage will be blissful when dating has been hell.
What are people thinking?
But it is because of this kind of thinking that has made others view marriage as a spectator sport--watching by the sidelines, taking bets, and filming television shows like Cheaters. I do not understand how this could possibly be entertainment.
It side-steps the whole issue of how painful it all is for the people invovled. I have never met a person whose marriage fell apart, or who stayed in an unhealthy or unhappy marriage, who did not suffer deeply from it.
We might as well throw them in with Lions and cheer by the sidelines.
Oh, go on. You believed that? I didn't.
I don't know what possessed this woman that I barely know to tell me that she saw my husband with another woman. That seems to be information that should come from someone that I'm on more than a first name basis with. I was looking over her shoulder for a camera from that ueber-objectionable show Cheaters on the WB. (More on how loathesome I find that show later. If I have the time or the inclination).
Anyway, not for one second, while I stood there open-mouthed at her audacity and the idiotic half-hidden grin that she was sporting, did I think that el husbando was cheating.
My husband? I said
Yes.
Him. she says. right there, as she pointed across the room to S.
I laughed literally out loud. Until my stomach hurt. Bent over in two.
That's not my husband. I tell her.
But he had your baby with him.
No, that was his baby.
And she had the nerve to look disappointed.
People often make assumptions about us. I mean, not to get all When Harry Met Sally on us, but I don't know why people can't just assume that a male and a female are friends. Good friends. Those that know us well know that it isn't just S and I that are friends, but that our mothers, our spouses and our children are friends. They just see the two of us (if my parents aren't around, cause they work here, too) and jump to conclusions.
Sometimes I think it is funny, but that one just irritated me to the core. Do you know why? Because she seemed to think that the possible break-up of a marriage would be funny. I can't even begin to tell you how vile that I think that is. Marriage vows are a sacred covanent with the couple and God. I did not undertake mine lightly. I waited until I was in my 30s to find my soul-mate, and the one who would carry me through my life.
For me there is little so sad as the dissolution of a marriage. I'm serious. The news, and daily life, are often full of announcements of divorce and literally every single one causes me physical pain. I know that some marriages need to end, and I applaud the people that get out of them, but I firmly believe that most of those are marriages people had no business being in in the first place. I get angry by how lightly marriage is treated these days. People trip off and get married, as if it isn't anything more than a weeklong reservation at a resort. They know they'll stay a short time, enjoy it while it lasts and then leave.
Or when people head into marriage hoping that somehow that ring will change a person's personality so drastically that marriage will be blissful when dating has been hell.
What are people thinking?
But it is because of this kind of thinking that has made others view marriage as a spectator sport--watching by the sidelines, taking bets, and filming television shows like Cheaters. I do not understand how this could possibly be entertainment.
It side-steps the whole issue of how painful it all is for the people invovled. I have never met a person whose marriage fell apart, or who stayed in an unhealthy or unhappy marriage, who did not suffer deeply from it.
We might as well throw them in with Lions and cheer by the sidelines.
A Blog About Totally Random and Unrelated Things
To answer Nap Queen's question about the air conditioning. We don't have A/C. We have an evaporative cooler, which kicks ass (usually). Here in the desert, evaporative coolers work really well, are *cheap* to fix, and don't cost the upwards of $400 a month that our friends' A/Cs cost them in the summer.
But, there's one major downfall of the evaporative cooler and that is that when it is humid, it doesn't work all that well. And the last three weeks have been humid.
But, it wouldn't matter if we had A/C. The one at work hasn't been working properly in a week. The doctor's office we went to yesterday for Liam's 18month had one that seemed to be on its last legs. Everywhere is hot, hot, hot.
And there's that whole "power" thing. Conserving power during peak hours. Set your thermostat for 82 or whatever it is that they're recommending. Power up. Power down. Power out.
Its really starting to suck around here.
But, not as bad as it did for some guy who had a car accident at the intersection where Liam's doctor's office is. Some poor 22 year old kid hit a power pole. Yeah, sucks. Sucks for the people who had power out from it.
But, how was he to know that that power pole would take out the air traffic control station and that all of the airports in Los Angeles would be shut down for hours, ruining probably millions of people's travel plans?
Oh, and about So You Think You Can Dance. We didn't go. My poor mom just wouldn't do it. Plus there is no seating-- it is standing room only, and since we're both under 5' tall, we probably wouldn't be able to see a thing.
But, who are our favorites? I'm partial to Donyielle since she's a hometown girl and went to the very college where I work. But, I also Loves me some Benji and Ivan.
That's all the randomness I've got for now. But I reserve the right to type more later.
But, there's one major downfall of the evaporative cooler and that is that when it is humid, it doesn't work all that well. And the last three weeks have been humid.
But, it wouldn't matter if we had A/C. The one at work hasn't been working properly in a week. The doctor's office we went to yesterday for Liam's 18month had one that seemed to be on its last legs. Everywhere is hot, hot, hot.
And there's that whole "power" thing. Conserving power during peak hours. Set your thermostat for 82 or whatever it is that they're recommending. Power up. Power down. Power out.
Its really starting to suck around here.
But, not as bad as it did for some guy who had a car accident at the intersection where Liam's doctor's office is. Some poor 22 year old kid hit a power pole. Yeah, sucks. Sucks for the people who had power out from it.
But, how was he to know that that power pole would take out the air traffic control station and that all of the airports in Los Angeles would be shut down for hours, ruining probably millions of people's travel plans?
Oh, and about So You Think You Can Dance. We didn't go. My poor mom just wouldn't do it. Plus there is no seating-- it is standing room only, and since we're both under 5' tall, we probably wouldn't be able to see a thing.
But, who are our favorites? I'm partial to Donyielle since she's a hometown girl and went to the very college where I work. But, I also Loves me some Benji and Ivan.
That's all the randomness I've got for now. But I reserve the right to type more later.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Hot....dying....Hot....
113.
Humid on top of that.
Dying.
How long can this go on?
I had other things to say, but all the thoughts have melted out of my head and into the carpet.
I may have to scrape them out. They were all I had.
Humid on top of that.
Dying.
How long can this go on?
I had other things to say, but all the thoughts have melted out of my head and into the carpet.
I may have to scrape them out. They were all I had.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Blue Hair and Beach Babes
Some pics from the recent weekend.
Liam's Blue Head from his sandbox sand.
Liam's hair every time I put sunscreen on his head. (Shoulda done those two together and had a blue mowhawk...)
Me and Liam and a strange woman in the ocean with a fish eye effect on the photo.
And Liam on the boogie board
8,756,983
That's the number of people that I think were on the beach with us yesterday.
We thought, oh, we'll go to the beach. They're going to have a record high of 86. Its going to be 110 million + here, we'll take 86.
Sweat was literally dripping in my eyes. Damn thunderstorm hanging overhead, but never breaking. The only relief was actually being in the Ocean. Except for the 4,598,652 children brought in with the tide each time, literally hitting your legs as if you were a bowling pin and they were a ball.
Liam didn't like the water this time, but it may have been the congestion of people that made him not want to be in it.
But, we did have a great time. The boys loved the sand, as always, and Liam fell in love with the useless boogie board. He stood on it, put the cuff over his wrist and smiled and laughed with glee. He probably stood on it and walked on it for two hours or more.
Isn't it funny how two babies can make the most miserable conditions joyful?
We thought, oh, we'll go to the beach. They're going to have a record high of 86. Its going to be 110 million + here, we'll take 86.
Sweat was literally dripping in my eyes. Damn thunderstorm hanging overhead, but never breaking. The only relief was actually being in the Ocean. Except for the 4,598,652 children brought in with the tide each time, literally hitting your legs as if you were a bowling pin and they were a ball.
Liam didn't like the water this time, but it may have been the congestion of people that made him not want to be in it.
But, we did have a great time. The boys loved the sand, as always, and Liam fell in love with the useless boogie board. He stood on it, put the cuff over his wrist and smiled and laughed with glee. He probably stood on it and walked on it for two hours or more.
Isn't it funny how two babies can make the most miserable conditions joyful?
Sunday, July 23, 2006
The Plan that Went to Pot
As you may know, I'm like the Pied Piper dragging people to our downtown. Friday night they had a street festival downtown. Same street as us, up five blocks or so. So, everyone met here. I invited like 12 people, 9 of us ending up going. I wasn't feeling well before we left, but, dammit, the downtown rarely has these events and I'm the one always pushing for them (and for us to actually go to them), so I walked down there. Off we went with the boys in the wagon and all of us trudging along in the heat. 103F at 6:30 pm. We get down there and I'm feeling more and more awful. They get kettle corn, funnel cakes, all kinds of yummies. I can't even sit near people with food and then it hits. I run down the street to where the porta-potties are and puke up my guts.
Yup. I got what Liam and el husbando had earlier this week.
Puking in a Porta Potty is one of the most disgusting things I have ever done.
When I had cleaned up the porta potty and myself I got back to where everyone was sitting and they told me that the newspaper had just taken a lot of pictures of the boys. I missed it!
I tried to push through, but only 20 minutes in I decided I just couldn't do it, and we walked home. I felt so bad about ditching out.
Then I spent the night with one of the most violent stomach bugs I have ever had. I remember sitting in the bathtub in scorching hot water in an already hot house thinking that I didn't want to get pregnant again because I could never- ever-ever feel sick to my stomach again.
It was weird. I felt so awful that it was like the dementors from Harry Potter had gotten hold of me. They're supposed to suck out any ability to feel happiness or joy from a person. Well, whatever that bug was did that to me. I couldn't imagine myself ever well or standing up again.
But, it was only a 24 hour thing. Thank the Good Lord.
I don't think they printed the picture of the boys in the paper. I'm so bummed about that. But, since I'm feeling so much better, we're all headed to Santa Monica Beach to soak up some sun and play in some waves!
Hope this plan goes better than Friday's...
(Yet again, blogger won't let me upload pics.)
(bah on you blogger)
Yup. I got what Liam and el husbando had earlier this week.
Puking in a Porta Potty is one of the most disgusting things I have ever done.
When I had cleaned up the porta potty and myself I got back to where everyone was sitting and they told me that the newspaper had just taken a lot of pictures of the boys. I missed it!
I tried to push through, but only 20 minutes in I decided I just couldn't do it, and we walked home. I felt so bad about ditching out.
Then I spent the night with one of the most violent stomach bugs I have ever had. I remember sitting in the bathtub in scorching hot water in an already hot house thinking that I didn't want to get pregnant again because I could never- ever-ever feel sick to my stomach again.
It was weird. I felt so awful that it was like the dementors from Harry Potter had gotten hold of me. They're supposed to suck out any ability to feel happiness or joy from a person. Well, whatever that bug was did that to me. I couldn't imagine myself ever well or standing up again.
But, it was only a 24 hour thing. Thank the Good Lord.
I don't think they printed the picture of the boys in the paper. I'm so bummed about that. But, since I'm feeling so much better, we're all headed to Santa Monica Beach to soak up some sun and play in some waves!
Hope this plan goes better than Friday's...
(Yet again, blogger won't let me upload pics.)
(bah on you blogger)
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Ba-Boom!
We had a huge thunderstorm tonight. It was more lightening than I've ever seen in my life. We also lost power for an hour or so. The good thing about it is that its finally more comfortable now that the sky got that over with. Its actually cool. Well, its 80 or so, but it feels so nice.
Tomorrow the prediction is 109. I may have mentioned before that in over a month we've only had three days below 100. I have had it with the heat already. This is usually what August and early September are like for us. Is it going to stay this hot for two more months?
Last night we went to the Ice Cream Social at my church. R and Z were there with our family. Yet again people thought that the boys were twins. Every time we take them out people think that. Its so funny. R and I just shake our heads and say, "nope. not even related." Then people just shake their heads in disbelief. "I could have sworn they were twins," they say.
The next few days are busy, busy here. Street faire on my street tomorrow. Saturday family birthday gathering and Sunday the beach. I'm already exhausted from this week.
Nothing else to say. I'm tired, irritable and hot. You really don't want to know more than that.
Tomorrow the prediction is 109. I may have mentioned before that in over a month we've only had three days below 100. I have had it with the heat already. This is usually what August and early September are like for us. Is it going to stay this hot for two more months?
Last night we went to the Ice Cream Social at my church. R and Z were there with our family. Yet again people thought that the boys were twins. Every time we take them out people think that. Its so funny. R and I just shake our heads and say, "nope. not even related." Then people just shake their heads in disbelief. "I could have sworn they were twins," they say.
The next few days are busy, busy here. Street faire on my street tomorrow. Saturday family birthday gathering and Sunday the beach. I'm already exhausted from this week.
Nothing else to say. I'm tired, irritable and hot. You really don't want to know more than that.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Mockingbird
My bird Libby died this morning. I cried all the way to work.
But, that is unrelated to my story today.
I have this uncanny ability to remember positive comments from my work in school almost word for word. 15 years ago in a zoology class in college, my professor said of my lab notebook, "largely an excellent notebook with few weaknesses."
Those kinds of things stick in my head. That is why I'm glad to report to you that my most critical member of my thesis committee said in an email today, "You have a good handle on some good material."
He also said in his notes on my work, "Neuroscientific perspective....Good. I like your treatment of this aspect."
Those things are like gasoline in my thesis tank. Propelling me forward. He says he's looking forward to reading more. He was so enthusiastic that he thought about it some more during the day and sent me some links to some brain research and some other studies to look at. I have had zero energy in my thesis well these days, but I have been refueled. For awhile I had lost confidence, thinking perhaps I had taken on a topic that was too much for me. No more.
Liam is a little parrot these days, too. We had one of the best laughs the other day at Kmart. We were buying some plastic storage tubs, and I had gone to Kmart specifically because I knew that they had some in pink. They were high up on the shelf, and el husbando and I were taking down the whole stack in order to get two from the top. Liam holds up his hands, with such a look of concern on his face and yells, "Whoa-whoa-whoa...whoa!"
Hilarious.
And now when you put on your shoes, he looks at you, waves and says, "bye." I guess we only wear shoes outside these days. Its too hot to wear anything if you don't have to.
But, that is unrelated to my story today.
I have this uncanny ability to remember positive comments from my work in school almost word for word. 15 years ago in a zoology class in college, my professor said of my lab notebook, "largely an excellent notebook with few weaknesses."
Those kinds of things stick in my head. That is why I'm glad to report to you that my most critical member of my thesis committee said in an email today, "You have a good handle on some good material."
He also said in his notes on my work, "Neuroscientific perspective....Good. I like your treatment of this aspect."
Those things are like gasoline in my thesis tank. Propelling me forward. He says he's looking forward to reading more. He was so enthusiastic that he thought about it some more during the day and sent me some links to some brain research and some other studies to look at. I have had zero energy in my thesis well these days, but I have been refueled. For awhile I had lost confidence, thinking perhaps I had taken on a topic that was too much for me. No more.
Liam is a little parrot these days, too. We had one of the best laughs the other day at Kmart. We were buying some plastic storage tubs, and I had gone to Kmart specifically because I knew that they had some in pink. They were high up on the shelf, and el husbando and I were taking down the whole stack in order to get two from the top. Liam holds up his hands, with such a look of concern on his face and yells, "Whoa-whoa-whoa...whoa!"
Hilarious.
And now when you put on your shoes, he looks at you, waves and says, "bye." I guess we only wear shoes outside these days. Its too hot to wear anything if you don't have to.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
"I'm not going to get all 'clubbed up...'"
...my mother says to me on the phone.
My birthday gift to her backfired. You see, I was going to take her to see a taping of So You Think You Can Dance. We love this show. We even call in to vote. So, I thought it would be a great gift.
I got the electronic tickets yesterday and they said "Hip, Club attire required. Will be enforced."
My mom's voice got all small and sad sounding and she says, "I'm not going to get all clubbed up"
Inside I was laughing, because I'm not exactly sure my mom knows what hip, club attire is these days. But, I think I know what she was imagining. I think the only people she's ever seen ready to go clubbing any time recently were my brother and sister in law. They go to Goth and Industrial clubs in Hollywood, or at least they used to. So, you can imagine how *they* look when they're "clubbed up" I wonder if my mom was imagining she'd have to wear vinyl and thigh high boots.....?
Anyway, I'm not even sure *I* know what they want from "Hip, Club Attire" so we're not going. It was so sad. She said, "I even vote. I watch every episode."
I think I'll try Dancing with the Stars in its next season. Maybe they'll attract an older, more genteel crowd...
My birthday gift to her backfired. You see, I was going to take her to see a taping of So You Think You Can Dance. We love this show. We even call in to vote. So, I thought it would be a great gift.
I got the electronic tickets yesterday and they said "Hip, Club attire required. Will be enforced."
My mom's voice got all small and sad sounding and she says, "I'm not going to get all clubbed up"
Inside I was laughing, because I'm not exactly sure my mom knows what hip, club attire is these days. But, I think I know what she was imagining. I think the only people she's ever seen ready to go clubbing any time recently were my brother and sister in law. They go to Goth and Industrial clubs in Hollywood, or at least they used to. So, you can imagine how *they* look when they're "clubbed up" I wonder if my mom was imagining she'd have to wear vinyl and thigh high boots.....?
Anyway, I'm not even sure *I* know what they want from "Hip, Club Attire" so we're not going. It was so sad. She said, "I even vote. I watch every episode."
I think I'll try Dancing with the Stars in its next season. Maybe they'll attract an older, more genteel crowd...
Monday, July 17, 2006
He Can Dance if He Wants To
Even if he's been puking up his innerds.
My boys are both sick. Liam launches vomit like it has rocket fuel in it and it reaches new heights every time. Every time it also manages to cover me in a coat of sick.
But, he deals with it with a light heart. He was just dancing and singing and scrunching up his nose. Happy as a Clam. Until it came up again. Then, once he's cleaned up, he's pushing the buttons on his Little People Farm and dancing to Old McDonald.
I'm not so lighthearted and quick to song. I haven't been able to properly suds m'self down and have had to quickly swipe at myself while I have him in the bath. I've also, once they're asleep, got to strip the slipcover off of the futon and throw it, the towels and my clothes into the washer as well as wash the carpet and scrub the wood floor. Because Liam feels absolutely fine inbetween the sick launching, he wanders all over the house---0delighted, dancing and happy.
I'm tired. And yet I am happy. I am the comforter, the nurturer, and the nursemaid. I feel so useful. Even if I'm just stripping beds with sick on them.
I am Mom.
My boys are both sick. Liam launches vomit like it has rocket fuel in it and it reaches new heights every time. Every time it also manages to cover me in a coat of sick.
But, he deals with it with a light heart. He was just dancing and singing and scrunching up his nose. Happy as a Clam. Until it came up again. Then, once he's cleaned up, he's pushing the buttons on his Little People Farm and dancing to Old McDonald.
I'm not so lighthearted and quick to song. I haven't been able to properly suds m'self down and have had to quickly swipe at myself while I have him in the bath. I've also, once they're asleep, got to strip the slipcover off of the futon and throw it, the towels and my clothes into the washer as well as wash the carpet and scrub the wood floor. Because Liam feels absolutely fine inbetween the sick launching, he wanders all over the house---0delighted, dancing and happy.
I'm tired. And yet I am happy. I am the comforter, the nurturer, and the nursemaid. I feel so useful. Even if I'm just stripping beds with sick on them.
I am Mom.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Momma's in the House!
'Scuse the no make up and sweaty head of hair. I've been playin' like a kid today...
Happy Birthday!
Its Grandma's birthday, so what did she do?
Got this. (and yes, of course, the sand color was my choice).
Happy Birthday my mummy...and thank you!
And Indoor Fun, Too...
We got this Alligator tunnel yesterday at Target on clearance for $13. Liam LOVES it. I've since popped up the Dora playhut so that the tunnel goes into and out of it. We played there a bit before our outside fun. Have some pics from that, too, later. Didn't get any good waterballoon pics as I was busy chucking them at el husbando. Too bad 25 waterballoons don't last very long...
Oh, and, as you can see, Liam did a little "reading", too.
Feelin' HOT HOT HOT
S'posed to be 110-112 today.
I'm ready. This morning I made vanilla pudding popsicles and they're freezing in the freezer. In the sink is a bucket full of water balloons filled and ready to go. The squirt guns are loaded. The sprinkler is in place. I've got sunscreen, a hat, and cameras (of course).
Waitin' for the boy to take a nap so that he'll be all happy-like while we play.
Yesterday I went to this site and got a coupon for a photobook from photoworks. It is such a great deal! You only pay for shipping (shipping is less than $5). Well, theoretically. I added some pages, so I paid shipping plus three dollars for some extra pages in the photobook, but that was my choice. I think the coupon is good until the end of July, so if you don't have time for scrapbooking--or if you just want a photobook of your kids---I highly encourage you to check it out. It was fun!
I like that some of the layouts let you add text. I'm going to do some of these as Christmas gifts and I think I'll include more text in those layouts.
I'm going to carry mine around to torment people with pictures to go along with my Liam stories.
Oh, can you see them rolling their eyes now?
I'm ready. This morning I made vanilla pudding popsicles and they're freezing in the freezer. In the sink is a bucket full of water balloons filled and ready to go. The squirt guns are loaded. The sprinkler is in place. I've got sunscreen, a hat, and cameras (of course).
Waitin' for the boy to take a nap so that he'll be all happy-like while we play.
Yesterday I went to this site and got a coupon for a photobook from photoworks. It is such a great deal! You only pay for shipping (shipping is less than $5). Well, theoretically. I added some pages, so I paid shipping plus three dollars for some extra pages in the photobook, but that was my choice. I think the coupon is good until the end of July, so if you don't have time for scrapbooking--or if you just want a photobook of your kids---I highly encourage you to check it out. It was fun!
I like that some of the layouts let you add text. I'm going to do some of these as Christmas gifts and I think I'll include more text in those layouts.
I'm going to carry mine around to torment people with pictures to go along with my Liam stories.
Oh, can you see them rolling their eyes now?
Friday, July 14, 2006
So Clean You Can Eat Off of It
Nope. Not my floor. My uterus.
I know what you're thinking. Kether, for all that is good in the world, please don't tell me about your uterus. But, as I've said before, if you can't complain about your menses on your blog, where can you?
Oh. You mean that stuff isn't for sharing?
Anyway. Seven days of AF. Seriously. Seven days. That surface probably hasn't been so barren since my D&C. And you know what they say about fertility after a D&C, so I've got my fingers crossed.
It has been over a year since we began not not trying. Back then when I said we were not not trying, I think I really meant that we were trying because I fully expected to get pregnant shortly thereafter. Afterall, we had decided to start trying right after we got married and we conceived the baby that couldn't on our honeymoon. 3 months later I got a positive pregnancy test with Liam. I had labored under the assumption that I get pregnant easily, but I guess I was wrong. I'm hoping, as I do every month, that this month is the right month, but I am also hoping that I don't rush this along. I want to enjoy it. What if this is my last pregnancy? We would like three, but you just never know, so I want to savor the experience. I don't want to wish it away because I'm in a hurry, so I'm really working on trying to put into action that belief. Its harder to do than say.
I know that my fertility story is nothing compared to other people's struggles. When I think of that, I am ashamed of myself for allowing myself to get down about it. But, then I think back to the blogworld's discussion of the Pain Olympics a few years ago. This isn't a competition. It is about me and my life and what makes me sad. Even if I may be being silly.
I know what you're thinking. Kether, for all that is good in the world, please don't tell me about your uterus. But, as I've said before, if you can't complain about your menses on your blog, where can you?
Oh. You mean that stuff isn't for sharing?
Anyway. Seven days of AF. Seriously. Seven days. That surface probably hasn't been so barren since my D&C. And you know what they say about fertility after a D&C, so I've got my fingers crossed.
It has been over a year since we began not not trying. Back then when I said we were not not trying, I think I really meant that we were trying because I fully expected to get pregnant shortly thereafter. Afterall, we had decided to start trying right after we got married and we conceived the baby that couldn't on our honeymoon. 3 months later I got a positive pregnancy test with Liam. I had labored under the assumption that I get pregnant easily, but I guess I was wrong. I'm hoping, as I do every month, that this month is the right month, but I am also hoping that I don't rush this along. I want to enjoy it. What if this is my last pregnancy? We would like three, but you just never know, so I want to savor the experience. I don't want to wish it away because I'm in a hurry, so I'm really working on trying to put into action that belief. Its harder to do than say.
I know that my fertility story is nothing compared to other people's struggles. When I think of that, I am ashamed of myself for allowing myself to get down about it. But, then I think back to the blogworld's discussion of the Pain Olympics a few years ago. This isn't a competition. It is about me and my life and what makes me sad. Even if I may be being silly.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Who Am I?
The other day I was on my space reading the profiles of the other Kethers. They were all hip, all cool, all punk rock and stuff.
I sat there thinking how very old I felt.
I felt the need to email them and tell them I used to be cool. I used to think about cool things like philosophy. I used to listen to bands that were out there on the fringes. I'm a Violent Femmes girl from way back. I used to fit my name, the name of the Sepirot.
But I'm older now. I no longer have to wear all black and prove something to the world (though I must admit that usually you will finding me wearing at least some black). I no longer have big dreams of being a famous scientist or writer. I am trying to even put my desires to keep up with the Joneses to bed.
I am comfortable and at home wearing my jammies and playing airplane with my kid.
I can read biographies or books like Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events, watch reality tv, and take up scrapbooking as a hobby without feeling like I have to justify myself.
Or can I?
Do we ever really know who we are? Are we ever comfortable with who we have become?
When I first started my blog, It was called Who Are You? and it began with a quote from Alice in Wonderland that goes like this:
"Who are you?" asked the Caterpillar
"I, I, hardly know sir, just at present" Stammered Alice "At least, I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."
I have always felt like Alice. A little too small for one world, a little too big for another.
I always feel as if my true self was made of several other selves stitched together. This is becoming more and more evident when I look at my bloglines. There in black and white are a lot of elements that could be used to define me. There are the mommy blogs, divided into two different groups: There are the very religious, stay at home mommies who live lives governed almost entirely by their faith. I love these blogs. They bring me closer to my faith, and they make me yearn to make my home a heaven for my family. Then there are the 'other mommies' those who work, or don't work. Those who may have beliefs different from mine(sometimes atheist), and families different from mine (like seven children!) , and sometimes lives a lot like mine. I love these blogs. They make me feel a comraderie. A lot of these children were born around the same time as Liam. I've known a lot of these women since my miscarriage and I've followed a lot of their pregnancies. Sometimes I feel such a kinship because we're going through the same things Then there are the vintage homemaking sites. Women who may or may not have children, but who pepper their homes with vintage antique shop and ebay finds. Those who love faded linens, chippy paint, and vintage china. Those women who also care, like I do, that their dishtowels are cute. These women are quirky like me, and I'm sure there aren't many who 'get' them. But I do. I'm sure they're viewed as crazy as I often am because they lean more toward the whimsical and happy than the sophisticated.
Then there are the avant garde blogs. The people who are out there somewhere sipping martinis. Those edgy people, or the literati . The people who cuss, think big thoughts and live large lives. Some of these appeal to the more rebellious and edgy part of my nature, and some to the dreamer who used to want to put a stamp on the world.
And then there are the house blogs. I just added 14 more sites to my bloglines to follow more old house rennovations. Most of them are relatively small houses, like mine is, and it is so comforting to follow other people's rennovation woes. It is nice to know that other people have a to do list three thousand miles long, and little budget with which to address it. And its lovely to see the results of hard work, and a lifetime of hope and belief.
Each time I read a blog, I feel that little part of me sparked. Each infuses me with a sense of self, when I think That's like me! If I read the edgy blogs, I feel more edgy--I get snarkier, and channel my inner punk. The Vintage ones make me want to shop, see my home in a new light. They are full of pictures, and they make my heart happy. When I read the mommy blogs, I know in my deepest heart that Liam is the best thing I've ever done. When I read the rennovating ones, I want to delve into another project. When I read the religous blogs, I know in my heart that my home needs God as a living presence. These are all me. At least the me of today. I wonder what the bloglines of tomorrow will bring.
I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I may have been changed several times since then.
I sat there thinking how very old I felt.
I felt the need to email them and tell them I used to be cool. I used to think about cool things like philosophy. I used to listen to bands that were out there on the fringes. I'm a Violent Femmes girl from way back. I used to fit my name, the name of the Sepirot.
But I'm older now. I no longer have to wear all black and prove something to the world (though I must admit that usually you will finding me wearing at least some black). I no longer have big dreams of being a famous scientist or writer. I am trying to even put my desires to keep up with the Joneses to bed.
I am comfortable and at home wearing my jammies and playing airplane with my kid.
I can read biographies or books like Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events, watch reality tv, and take up scrapbooking as a hobby without feeling like I have to justify myself.
Or can I?
Do we ever really know who we are? Are we ever comfortable with who we have become?
When I first started my blog, It was called Who Are You? and it began with a quote from Alice in Wonderland that goes like this:
"Who are you?" asked the Caterpillar
"I, I, hardly know sir, just at present" Stammered Alice "At least, I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."
I have always felt like Alice. A little too small for one world, a little too big for another.
I always feel as if my true self was made of several other selves stitched together. This is becoming more and more evident when I look at my bloglines. There in black and white are a lot of elements that could be used to define me. There are the mommy blogs, divided into two different groups: There are the very religious, stay at home mommies who live lives governed almost entirely by their faith. I love these blogs. They bring me closer to my faith, and they make me yearn to make my home a heaven for my family. Then there are the 'other mommies' those who work, or don't work. Those who may have beliefs different from mine(sometimes atheist), and families different from mine (like seven children!) , and sometimes lives a lot like mine. I love these blogs. They make me feel a comraderie. A lot of these children were born around the same time as Liam. I've known a lot of these women since my miscarriage and I've followed a lot of their pregnancies. Sometimes I feel such a kinship because we're going through the same things Then there are the vintage homemaking sites. Women who may or may not have children, but who pepper their homes with vintage antique shop and ebay finds. Those who love faded linens, chippy paint, and vintage china. Those women who also care, like I do, that their dishtowels are cute. These women are quirky like me, and I'm sure there aren't many who 'get' them. But I do. I'm sure they're viewed as crazy as I often am because they lean more toward the whimsical and happy than the sophisticated.
Then there are the avant garde blogs. The people who are out there somewhere sipping martinis. Those edgy people, or the literati . The people who cuss, think big thoughts and live large lives. Some of these appeal to the more rebellious and edgy part of my nature, and some to the dreamer who used to want to put a stamp on the world.
And then there are the house blogs. I just added 14 more sites to my bloglines to follow more old house rennovations. Most of them are relatively small houses, like mine is, and it is so comforting to follow other people's rennovation woes. It is nice to know that other people have a to do list three thousand miles long, and little budget with which to address it. And its lovely to see the results of hard work, and a lifetime of hope and belief.
Each time I read a blog, I feel that little part of me sparked. Each infuses me with a sense of self, when I think That's like me! If I read the edgy blogs, I feel more edgy--I get snarkier, and channel my inner punk. The Vintage ones make me want to shop, see my home in a new light. They are full of pictures, and they make my heart happy. When I read the mommy blogs, I know in my deepest heart that Liam is the best thing I've ever done. When I read the rennovating ones, I want to delve into another project. When I read the religous blogs, I know in my heart that my home needs God as a living presence. These are all me. At least the me of today. I wonder what the bloglines of tomorrow will bring.
I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I may have been changed several times since then.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Blig Bloggity Blog
I got nuttin.
Its still hot, and still over 100 every day and I think I'm getting used to it. When I went outside earlier today, I breathed in the hot air and noticed the familiar smell of fire season. I hadn't even noticed the haze of smoke. I have no idea what was burning today, but it was relatively close.
Every fire season I can't help but be brought back in time to the Highway 41 fire near San Luis Obispo in college. That fire burned for days and eventually burned something like 50,000 acres. At that time, I lived in an Apartment Complex called Mustang Village right off campus. For a few days as the fire burned the sky would turn the strange orange-red that it does during a huge fire. The glow behind the ash in the sky is rather beautiful. The fire hovered around us, and ash rained on us as if it were snow. Every day the sky seemed to sink lower to the floor as the air grew thicker and thicker with smoke.*
Then one day our power went out. Soon after there was the proverbial knock at my door and an officer said that I had 15 minutes to get out. I collected my random assortment of animals, threws my photo albums and a suitcase full of mismatched clothing (I had to pack in the dark) into my car and took off. Then I discovered that my tank was near empty. I couldn't get gas. Not only could I not get cash anywhere, but the gas stations weren't operational because there was no power.
I remember the cars stacked up on the freeway, and I remember the newcaster on the radio saying to watch out for deer and bear on the freeway trying to find their way out of town. I couldn't drive far, so my parents said that they would drive three hours and meet me somewhere. We picked a 7-11 parking lot because it was just off the freeway and we all knew where it was. I got there, and was waiting in my car when the 7-11 management told me I had to leave. Even when I told them why I was there. So, I picked a random hotel also off the freeway and called my parents.
That hotel was so kind. They were working off of a generator and so the light was limited. But, I remember that they took me in, gave me something to eat and comp'ed a room for me. They even let me take my cat up to the room.
I remember my parents wanted me to travel home to them, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave because I was glued to the television. It was the first time that I realised that I had a home away from my parents; I had grown up, and I was an adult.
You would think that as an adult, I took a less away from that experience. You would think that I have an evacuation plan. You would think that my tank always has enough gas to get away with. You would think I always have some cash.
The answers to those questions are no, no and no. We also don't have a home disaster plan. Living here in earthquake country, I should have a plan. But, I don't.
I'm going to go make one.
*I wrote this post yesterday, but today as I was reading For Laci (a book by Laci Peterson's mom) she described this fire, too. It was a very memorable time.
Its still hot, and still over 100 every day and I think I'm getting used to it. When I went outside earlier today, I breathed in the hot air and noticed the familiar smell of fire season. I hadn't even noticed the haze of smoke. I have no idea what was burning today, but it was relatively close.
Every fire season I can't help but be brought back in time to the Highway 41 fire near San Luis Obispo in college. That fire burned for days and eventually burned something like 50,000 acres. At that time, I lived in an Apartment Complex called Mustang Village right off campus. For a few days as the fire burned the sky would turn the strange orange-red that it does during a huge fire. The glow behind the ash in the sky is rather beautiful. The fire hovered around us, and ash rained on us as if it were snow. Every day the sky seemed to sink lower to the floor as the air grew thicker and thicker with smoke.*
Then one day our power went out. Soon after there was the proverbial knock at my door and an officer said that I had 15 minutes to get out. I collected my random assortment of animals, threws my photo albums and a suitcase full of mismatched clothing (I had to pack in the dark) into my car and took off. Then I discovered that my tank was near empty. I couldn't get gas. Not only could I not get cash anywhere, but the gas stations weren't operational because there was no power.
I remember the cars stacked up on the freeway, and I remember the newcaster on the radio saying to watch out for deer and bear on the freeway trying to find their way out of town. I couldn't drive far, so my parents said that they would drive three hours and meet me somewhere. We picked a 7-11 parking lot because it was just off the freeway and we all knew where it was. I got there, and was waiting in my car when the 7-11 management told me I had to leave. Even when I told them why I was there. So, I picked a random hotel also off the freeway and called my parents.
That hotel was so kind. They were working off of a generator and so the light was limited. But, I remember that they took me in, gave me something to eat and comp'ed a room for me. They even let me take my cat up to the room.
I remember my parents wanted me to travel home to them, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave because I was glued to the television. It was the first time that I realised that I had a home away from my parents; I had grown up, and I was an adult.
You would think that as an adult, I took a less away from that experience. You would think that I have an evacuation plan. You would think that my tank always has enough gas to get away with. You would think I always have some cash.
The answers to those questions are no, no and no. We also don't have a home disaster plan. Living here in earthquake country, I should have a plan. But, I don't.
I'm going to go make one.
*I wrote this post yesterday, but today as I was reading For Laci (a book by Laci Peterson's mom) she described this fire, too. It was a very memorable time.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
I'll be there for you
Friends.
I have recently started to notice the absence of friends in my life. Sure, I've got a lot of people I gab with. And they're friends, sure, but not the kind of Friends that I feel I'm missing. Not the kind of six-friends-who-meet-at-the-coffeehouse kind of people. Not a sisterhood.
By my late highschool years and college years, I tended to have more guy friends. In college, the people I hung out with were *all* guys. I don't know if it is because I grew up in a neighborhood full of boys and had a brother, but I was always more comfortable with the guys. My best girl friend in highschool and I had an ugly falling out (over what I can't remember), and I think that left a lasting impression on me.
By the time I got my job, I was one of the youngest on campus, and I worked with people I'd known a large portion of my life since my mom had taught there since I was a kid. So, I made a lot of friends with people twice my age. And I did grow close to them. My matron of honor at my wedding was my mom's age. But, that's just the thing, I ended up with lots and lots of moms, but no sisters.
In truth, it didn't bother me until I got married and had a baby. All of a sudden I had a craving for other young moms to be friends with. I'm surrounded now by younger people at work, but they're all guys. S and I are very close, like brother and sister, but that doesn't fill that space. In the last year his wife and I have gotten closer and I've been really thankful for that. Sometimes I forget that she's ten years younger than me because we're at the same place in life right now--raising babies five months apart, rennovating houses, dealing with crap at work. Last year I even got her scrapbooking with me and my other friend who is a CM consultant and has a boy 9 months older than Liam. And I've learned something--having friends at the same stage of life as you is important.
And it also means that Liam is growing up with boys whose families I know well. Very well. Like family. We're not only linked at our generation, but our moms all know eachother, too. It is like a big, extended family. As I watched Liam and Z play on the playground today, I could see them a few years from now kicking a soccer ball, or playing baseball together. Sitting side-by-side in front of video games. My heart relaxed when I sat thinking that I'd be able to drop him off at his friends house, and not worry about what was going on in that home. It would be a home of the same values, and pretty similar parenting style. It would be a home full of love, kindness and fun. A safe home where parents are involved.
**
By 7:30am this morning we were at the park with Z and his parents. That's practically the only time you can take a baby to the park. I don't understand why they don't have shades over the playgrounds like they do in Scottsdale (well, I do...because Scottsdale has a boatload more cash than we do, but still...). I was struck at the playground by how quickly they're growing up. Liam climbed on the equipment by himself. He slid himself down the slide, played in the sand, and walked S and R all over the place, dragging them by the hand. He and Z were so happy to see eachother and have playmates. It is only a matter of time before they're chasing eachother all over....
(bah. Blogger won't upload. I'll do it later. I had pics...)
I have recently started to notice the absence of friends in my life. Sure, I've got a lot of people I gab with. And they're friends, sure, but not the kind of Friends that I feel I'm missing. Not the kind of six-friends-who-meet-at-the-coffeehouse kind of people. Not a sisterhood.
By my late highschool years and college years, I tended to have more guy friends. In college, the people I hung out with were *all* guys. I don't know if it is because I grew up in a neighborhood full of boys and had a brother, but I was always more comfortable with the guys. My best girl friend in highschool and I had an ugly falling out (over what I can't remember), and I think that left a lasting impression on me.
By the time I got my job, I was one of the youngest on campus, and I worked with people I'd known a large portion of my life since my mom had taught there since I was a kid. So, I made a lot of friends with people twice my age. And I did grow close to them. My matron of honor at my wedding was my mom's age. But, that's just the thing, I ended up with lots and lots of moms, but no sisters.
In truth, it didn't bother me until I got married and had a baby. All of a sudden I had a craving for other young moms to be friends with. I'm surrounded now by younger people at work, but they're all guys. S and I are very close, like brother and sister, but that doesn't fill that space. In the last year his wife and I have gotten closer and I've been really thankful for that. Sometimes I forget that she's ten years younger than me because we're at the same place in life right now--raising babies five months apart, rennovating houses, dealing with crap at work. Last year I even got her scrapbooking with me and my other friend who is a CM consultant and has a boy 9 months older than Liam. And I've learned something--having friends at the same stage of life as you is important.
And it also means that Liam is growing up with boys whose families I know well. Very well. Like family. We're not only linked at our generation, but our moms all know eachother, too. It is like a big, extended family. As I watched Liam and Z play on the playground today, I could see them a few years from now kicking a soccer ball, or playing baseball together. Sitting side-by-side in front of video games. My heart relaxed when I sat thinking that I'd be able to drop him off at his friends house, and not worry about what was going on in that home. It would be a home of the same values, and pretty similar parenting style. It would be a home full of love, kindness and fun. A safe home where parents are involved.
**
By 7:30am this morning we were at the park with Z and his parents. That's practically the only time you can take a baby to the park. I don't understand why they don't have shades over the playgrounds like they do in Scottsdale (well, I do...because Scottsdale has a boatload more cash than we do, but still...). I was struck at the playground by how quickly they're growing up. Liam climbed on the equipment by himself. He slid himself down the slide, played in the sand, and walked S and R all over the place, dragging them by the hand. He and Z were so happy to see eachother and have playmates. It is only a matter of time before they're chasing eachother all over....
(bah. Blogger won't upload. I'll do it later. I had pics...)
Friday, July 07, 2006
Greetings from Doggie Daycare and a Post you Can Sink Your Teeth Into
It used to be that whenever I needed to potty two dogs, two cats and a baby would follow me in. Sometimes a husband was added to that motley crew. But the past week the bathroom has been very crowded indeed. Monday and Tuesday we babysat my brother and sil's dogs (a pug and a teacup chihuahua). I wish I had gotten pictures of them. I'm not used to a dog that can sit on my shoulder. After they went home, we got my grandma's chihuahua mix while she's in the hospital. (She's suffering some ill effects from a bad case of bronchitis).
Liam is enjoying the extra pets around. And last week he got to play with my Nana's poodle. Its really sad. Liam sees lots and lots of dogs, but rarely another kid. We're going to the park this weekend with R and S and baby Z, so that will remedy it a little. We went to baby Z's first birthday a few weeks ago and Liam so badly wanted to play, but Z wasn't feeling well on account of some molars that seem to have attacked his mouth, and the other child was nap-less and didn't feel much like socializing, so Liam had to entertain himself. He was very interested in Z's new toys and every time R opened one, Liam was right there to snatch it from her. Everyone thought it was so funny. I have a picture of Liam surrounded by Z's toys. There are even two boxes perched on his lap. I felt badly at first, until everyone reminded me that N did that at Liam's party and that it was just natural curiosity. It was rather funny.
By the time they were in the pool, though, they cheered up quite a bit and so I'm hoping we'll get some more pool time with the two of them together. Liam's getting to a stage where he really needs friends....or a Brister.
the story about Z at his birthday reminded me, though. Liam's still only got 6 teeth. I am continually amazed at what he's able to eat with those 6 teeth, but I worry about him not being able to chew so I'm fearful about what food I give him. I smoosh veggies and beans with a fork. I cut up cherries until they're practically just juice. I freak out if I think he took too much pasta.
I know that his teeth are getting ready to come in. I can see those lumps, and the drool that Rachel has talked about. But, I just get so nervous.
What do your kids eat and do you worry?
Liam is enjoying the extra pets around. And last week he got to play with my Nana's poodle. Its really sad. Liam sees lots and lots of dogs, but rarely another kid. We're going to the park this weekend with R and S and baby Z, so that will remedy it a little. We went to baby Z's first birthday a few weeks ago and Liam so badly wanted to play, but Z wasn't feeling well on account of some molars that seem to have attacked his mouth, and the other child was nap-less and didn't feel much like socializing, so Liam had to entertain himself. He was very interested in Z's new toys and every time R opened one, Liam was right there to snatch it from her. Everyone thought it was so funny. I have a picture of Liam surrounded by Z's toys. There are even two boxes perched on his lap. I felt badly at first, until everyone reminded me that N did that at Liam's party and that it was just natural curiosity. It was rather funny.
By the time they were in the pool, though, they cheered up quite a bit and so I'm hoping we'll get some more pool time with the two of them together. Liam's getting to a stage where he really needs friends....or a Brister.
the story about Z at his birthday reminded me, though. Liam's still only got 6 teeth. I am continually amazed at what he's able to eat with those 6 teeth, but I worry about him not being able to chew so I'm fearful about what food I give him. I smoosh veggies and beans with a fork. I cut up cherries until they're practically just juice. I freak out if I think he took too much pasta.
I know that his teeth are getting ready to come in. I can see those lumps, and the drool that Rachel has talked about. But, I just get so nervous.
What do your kids eat and do you worry?
Thursday, July 06, 2006
The Last of the Sheep
Yesterday my day started with a workshop on how to read different types of texts. I was talking to them about how you approach texts from the Social Sciences differently than Mathematics and Science or Literature, for example. One of the sample texts that I used was a very short essay by Langston Hughes called Salvation. In it he describes when he was a little boy and the country church had a special day to call the little sheep unto the fold. His aunt talked up this day for weeks, "You're going to see Jesus!" she would say. "You're going to see a bright light and you're going to come to Jesus!"
On the appointed day all the kids were hopped up. They sat in the hot country church on a special bench and waited to be called to Jesus. Children were hopping up, excited, and running to the front proclaiming that they had seen him. They had felt the hand of God and they were saved.
Toward the end only Langston and his friend remained. Langston was beginning to worry because he hadn't seen nor felt anything and the atmosphere in the church was getting frantic. His friend caved under the pressure and ran to the front, but Langston sat there for a very long time, trying desperately to feel God.
In the end Langston caved, too. I imagine it was very hard for that poor little boy, with his aunt and other church women standing over him and crying, asking why he wouldn't come to Jesus. That night he cried, too, because he felt so guilty about lying about feeling the Lord.
The back of my brain was mulling over this little essay the rest of the day. While I was busy answering questions, and talking about reading, and opening and unlocking doors, this little essay hung on a "hook in my brain" as my Nana would say and germinated.
Later that day I had another workshop. There was only one attendee, one who I have gotten to know this summer. We were able to have a more intimate session together because she was the only one, so when we got to interpreting Literature, we got to talking. She has recently started back for her GED after 15 years of a meth addiction. She is a new Christian. Well, practically everthing in her life is new. When she "woke up" from her meth addiction, she found that all of a sudden she had responsibilities. The house hand't been properly cleaned in years. The kids had no discipline. Their finances were a mess. She had no job and no HS diploma. And she had the yoke of a new religion.
Can you imagine the bravery it takes to face all of that all of a sudden?
Our conversation found its way to the Bible, because that the Literature she is currently trying to read. I started to shift in my seat because I am no Bible scholar--even though both of my parents teach Bible study, I am embarassed to say that I have never chugged my way from beginning to end (though I have been working through it this year).
I chose two stories that I know relatively well, and that I thought she might have already read. The Prodigal Son and the one with the workers in the field.
We summarized those stories and then I talked about how they meant that no matter when to come to God, your reward is the same. Grace. Salvation. Eternal Life. Even if you were the last in line on the very last day. How amazing is that?
She started to cry and I could tell she was trying not to burst out right there. She had never gotten that out of those stories. I think she all of a sudden really and truly realised how much God loves her, and that all of those 15 years are erased now that she's come to God.
As I was sitting there I thought of that little Langston Hughes swinging his feet on the bench and waiting for a moment like this woman was feeling right then.
We continued to talk and she said, "Do you know what scares me about being a Christian? You know that story where the rich man has to give up everything he has and follow Christ? What if that happens to me?"
I have to admit that very same story has recently scared the proverbial poo out of me, too. What if God asked me to walk away from Liam? Could I do that?
We continued to talk about her education, her faith, her commitment to a new life and I told her how proud I was of her for taking all of this on.
When I was driving home I thought and thought about these experiences today. I thought about how quite often we wait for, no....Let's be honest....we expect some experience like Langston Hughes was expecting. We wait for the bright white light of God to descend on us from heaven. We wait for his hand to reach through the fluid wall of sky that seperates us, and touch his hands to us and achieve miracles. We expect to vibrate from his touch and we expect to have the physical sensation of faith. And when we don't get it, we feel let down and abandoned by God.
In truth, I have never had that experience Langston waited for. There are moments when I feel His presence, and I think that's what brings me to tears in church sometimes. But mostly when I feel God it is in quiet ways. In peacefulness when I feel I shouldn't otherwise have peace. In hope that doesn't leave. In gratitude. I don't think I'd ever really appreciated the quietness of God's presence until I was thinking about this same thing a few weeks ago.
At that time I was thinking about how we as believers often expect to live our lives unschathed. We expect that because we believe, we should be spared from the pain that living inflicts. We expect traffic to part, doors to open, jobs to be handed to us. We expect to be blessed in all that we do.
But we don't really know what blessings are.
So it is easy to disappoint us.
But, then I started thinking about it, and comparing my relationship with God with my relationship with my husband. There is never a moment when I doubt that D loves me. Even when he's irritated or mad. We don't live our lives in passionate embrace. He doesn't rub my back every second of the day.
But, once in awhile he will pass me by and kiss me on the neck, or touch my hand, or ruffle my hair as he walks by. Those quiet reassurances of love mean the world to me.
God is the same way. He is always there, and always loving us. He isn't constantly offering us tokens of his love by making our lives easier. But once in awhile he'll stop by to ruffle our hair and reassure us of his love. It is those passing blessings that we quite often miss.
And why should we live our lives unscathed? Christ sure didn't. He stood on a mountaintop and questioned his Father. And he took a beating that surely would have killed me, before he went onto that cross for either of us. Christ's road wasn't easy. Why should mine be?
When the student and I were talking about this, I think I saw relief on her face and I was sitting there thinking that she'd already given up her riches--her meth addiction. That would have been a huge thing to leave behind, and very scary.
Today when I saw her, I told her I'd been thinking of her. The more I think about it, the more happy I am that the first is the last and the last is the first, because I think everyone is going to get there before me.
On the appointed day all the kids were hopped up. They sat in the hot country church on a special bench and waited to be called to Jesus. Children were hopping up, excited, and running to the front proclaiming that they had seen him. They had felt the hand of God and they were saved.
Toward the end only Langston and his friend remained. Langston was beginning to worry because he hadn't seen nor felt anything and the atmosphere in the church was getting frantic. His friend caved under the pressure and ran to the front, but Langston sat there for a very long time, trying desperately to feel God.
In the end Langston caved, too. I imagine it was very hard for that poor little boy, with his aunt and other church women standing over him and crying, asking why he wouldn't come to Jesus. That night he cried, too, because he felt so guilty about lying about feeling the Lord.
The back of my brain was mulling over this little essay the rest of the day. While I was busy answering questions, and talking about reading, and opening and unlocking doors, this little essay hung on a "hook in my brain" as my Nana would say and germinated.
Later that day I had another workshop. There was only one attendee, one who I have gotten to know this summer. We were able to have a more intimate session together because she was the only one, so when we got to interpreting Literature, we got to talking. She has recently started back for her GED after 15 years of a meth addiction. She is a new Christian. Well, practically everthing in her life is new. When she "woke up" from her meth addiction, she found that all of a sudden she had responsibilities. The house hand't been properly cleaned in years. The kids had no discipline. Their finances were a mess. She had no job and no HS diploma. And she had the yoke of a new religion.
Can you imagine the bravery it takes to face all of that all of a sudden?
Our conversation found its way to the Bible, because that the Literature she is currently trying to read. I started to shift in my seat because I am no Bible scholar--even though both of my parents teach Bible study, I am embarassed to say that I have never chugged my way from beginning to end (though I have been working through it this year).
I chose two stories that I know relatively well, and that I thought she might have already read. The Prodigal Son and the one with the workers in the field.
We summarized those stories and then I talked about how they meant that no matter when to come to God, your reward is the same. Grace. Salvation. Eternal Life. Even if you were the last in line on the very last day. How amazing is that?
She started to cry and I could tell she was trying not to burst out right there. She had never gotten that out of those stories. I think she all of a sudden really and truly realised how much God loves her, and that all of those 15 years are erased now that she's come to God.
As I was sitting there I thought of that little Langston Hughes swinging his feet on the bench and waiting for a moment like this woman was feeling right then.
We continued to talk and she said, "Do you know what scares me about being a Christian? You know that story where the rich man has to give up everything he has and follow Christ? What if that happens to me?"
I have to admit that very same story has recently scared the proverbial poo out of me, too. What if God asked me to walk away from Liam? Could I do that?
We continued to talk about her education, her faith, her commitment to a new life and I told her how proud I was of her for taking all of this on.
When I was driving home I thought and thought about these experiences today. I thought about how quite often we wait for, no....Let's be honest....we expect some experience like Langston Hughes was expecting. We wait for the bright white light of God to descend on us from heaven. We wait for his hand to reach through the fluid wall of sky that seperates us, and touch his hands to us and achieve miracles. We expect to vibrate from his touch and we expect to have the physical sensation of faith. And when we don't get it, we feel let down and abandoned by God.
In truth, I have never had that experience Langston waited for. There are moments when I feel His presence, and I think that's what brings me to tears in church sometimes. But mostly when I feel God it is in quiet ways. In peacefulness when I feel I shouldn't otherwise have peace. In hope that doesn't leave. In gratitude. I don't think I'd ever really appreciated the quietness of God's presence until I was thinking about this same thing a few weeks ago.
At that time I was thinking about how we as believers often expect to live our lives unschathed. We expect that because we believe, we should be spared from the pain that living inflicts. We expect traffic to part, doors to open, jobs to be handed to us. We expect to be blessed in all that we do.
But we don't really know what blessings are.
So it is easy to disappoint us.
But, then I started thinking about it, and comparing my relationship with God with my relationship with my husband. There is never a moment when I doubt that D loves me. Even when he's irritated or mad. We don't live our lives in passionate embrace. He doesn't rub my back every second of the day.
But, once in awhile he will pass me by and kiss me on the neck, or touch my hand, or ruffle my hair as he walks by. Those quiet reassurances of love mean the world to me.
God is the same way. He is always there, and always loving us. He isn't constantly offering us tokens of his love by making our lives easier. But once in awhile he'll stop by to ruffle our hair and reassure us of his love. It is those passing blessings that we quite often miss.
And why should we live our lives unscathed? Christ sure didn't. He stood on a mountaintop and questioned his Father. And he took a beating that surely would have killed me, before he went onto that cross for either of us. Christ's road wasn't easy. Why should mine be?
When the student and I were talking about this, I think I saw relief on her face and I was sitting there thinking that she'd already given up her riches--her meth addiction. That would have been a huge thing to leave behind, and very scary.
Today when I saw her, I told her I'd been thinking of her. The more I think about it, the more happy I am that the first is the last and the last is the first, because I think everyone is going to get there before me.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
The Auntie Addiction
I am sitting here waiting for tomorrow to come. Why? Because tomorrow will be CD1 (God willing) and that means we'll be 11-15 days closer to trying again. I have told myself again and again that I was not in the ttc game this month. Dh was gone during the O time, and I haven't been checking, counting or anything like that. I don't even have tests in the house. This month I just wasn't playing.
So, why do I still have that sniggering little bit of hope that is pointless to have? I mean really, what is it about my brain that wants to torture me like that and hold onto hope where there should be none? When I didn't even invite hope. When I had no plan to hope at all.
I think its because in a way you become addicted to the whole ttc thing. Once you start, you can't help but let your life spin out of control around the trying to conceive axis, to divide the world by your luteal phase and AF and the two week wait. Even during pregnancy it is hard to give that up. When you think about something every day of your life, and when it seems like everything in your life hinges on it, it is very hard to give up that feeling that it gives you. Even when you have that thing that you have been chasing.
So, I'm looking forward to tomorrow. When AF will show her ugly-ass face and I can start this whole thing all over again and have a reason to be expectant, hopefuly, nervous, and dividing my month into twos.
So, why do I still have that sniggering little bit of hope that is pointless to have? I mean really, what is it about my brain that wants to torture me like that and hold onto hope where there should be none? When I didn't even invite hope. When I had no plan to hope at all.
I think its because in a way you become addicted to the whole ttc thing. Once you start, you can't help but let your life spin out of control around the trying to conceive axis, to divide the world by your luteal phase and AF and the two week wait. Even during pregnancy it is hard to give that up. When you think about something every day of your life, and when it seems like everything in your life hinges on it, it is very hard to give up that feeling that it gives you. Even when you have that thing that you have been chasing.
So, I'm looking forward to tomorrow. When AF will show her ugly-ass face and I can start this whole thing all over again and have a reason to be expectant, hopefuly, nervous, and dividing my month into twos.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Happy Fourth
We started our 4th of July by going Cherry picking. The orchards are about 15 minutes from us in a beautiful valley. On the way we passed by a ranch that had a herd of Bison, so I stopped and took a picture of them. Liam loved cherry picking. He didn't take too many cherries from the tree, but he got a lot of ripe ones that had recently fallen on the ground. He would pick them, and then come over to the bucket and put them in carefully. I was really suprised and how quickly he figured out what we were doing. Enjoy some pictures! (and an extra one from last year).
Monday, July 03, 2006
Controversy and Sleep
I was a lucky new mom. As soon as Liam was 13 weeks, he was sleeping through the night. Sure, once in awhile he'll wake up screaming his head off, but within 10-20 minutes we're able to get him back down and it doesn't happen often.
Liam goes to bed fairly late, and therefore wakes up fairly late. In the past it was not unusual for him to be up with us until nearly 10:30 and then go down easily. I can see you all freaking out already. She lets that baby stay up past 8?
But, we had no problems with sleep or behavior, so I figured, WHY NOT? Its not like he has to go to school. And when he was still crawling he took three regular naps: midmorning, afternoon and an early evening one. It was working for us. Liam was getting the sleep he needed and we had no problems getting him down. I'm a big believer in "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." So, I didn't read books, and I didn't look for ways to get him down earlier.
Now that he's walking and running and climbing the furniture, though, there has been a change. I think his body is trying to figure out when to sleep. Sometimes I think his naps are collapsing into a longer midday one, sometimes it seems he wants to keep all three or just two a morning and an afternoon. He's also started to gradually get tuckered out earlier and earlier. I'm hoping to let him find his natural sleep rythym.
What has changed is that after 8pm I cannot leave his sight. He is happy as a clam and playing and joyful unless I get up to leave and then he freaks out. He follows me around. He cannot stand to think that I'm going to be anywhere that he is not. And that means I can no longer just lay him in his bed and hope that he'll self-soothe, which he used to be so good at.
So, I made a decision while we were in Arizona and I was rocking my little Lemur to sleep--clearly he needs me. He needs me to help him sleep at night and he needs me to be with him in the evening. I'm listening to this, and to my heart, instead of all the book knowledge in the world. Everyone has an Opinion. Cry It Out. Attachment Parenting. Whatever. I made a firm decision last week to parent from my heart. My heart says that if he has a need, I'm going to meet it.
The rocking to sleep thing has helped. He doesn't need it every night, but there are some that are worse than others, and those nights he snuggles deep into my lap, pressing his head under my chin and making the same snuffling noises that he made when he was brand new. I can feel whatever stress he has melt as he relaxes in my arms and I can literally feel that tug of energy between my heart and his. There are some things only a Momma can provide. I think its that tug of energy, that connection that you can physically feel that he's been craving on those nights when I rock him. And there is nothing in the world like knowing that I'm the one that can give it to him.
There were a few moments last week where I questioned if this was right. Am I making him codependent? Does he need to find a new way to 'self-soothe'? Am I crazy? He's only a year and a half. There is time to make sure he's a productive, independent member of society. There is nothing wrong with being one and needing your Momma.
I have every faith that he's going to be just fine.
Liam goes to bed fairly late, and therefore wakes up fairly late. In the past it was not unusual for him to be up with us until nearly 10:30 and then go down easily. I can see you all freaking out already. She lets that baby stay up past 8?
But, we had no problems with sleep or behavior, so I figured, WHY NOT? Its not like he has to go to school. And when he was still crawling he took three regular naps: midmorning, afternoon and an early evening one. It was working for us. Liam was getting the sleep he needed and we had no problems getting him down. I'm a big believer in "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." So, I didn't read books, and I didn't look for ways to get him down earlier.
Now that he's walking and running and climbing the furniture, though, there has been a change. I think his body is trying to figure out when to sleep. Sometimes I think his naps are collapsing into a longer midday one, sometimes it seems he wants to keep all three or just two a morning and an afternoon. He's also started to gradually get tuckered out earlier and earlier. I'm hoping to let him find his natural sleep rythym.
What has changed is that after 8pm I cannot leave his sight. He is happy as a clam and playing and joyful unless I get up to leave and then he freaks out. He follows me around. He cannot stand to think that I'm going to be anywhere that he is not. And that means I can no longer just lay him in his bed and hope that he'll self-soothe, which he used to be so good at.
So, I made a decision while we were in Arizona and I was rocking my little Lemur to sleep--clearly he needs me. He needs me to help him sleep at night and he needs me to be with him in the evening. I'm listening to this, and to my heart, instead of all the book knowledge in the world. Everyone has an Opinion. Cry It Out. Attachment Parenting. Whatever. I made a firm decision last week to parent from my heart. My heart says that if he has a need, I'm going to meet it.
The rocking to sleep thing has helped. He doesn't need it every night, but there are some that are worse than others, and those nights he snuggles deep into my lap, pressing his head under my chin and making the same snuffling noises that he made when he was brand new. I can feel whatever stress he has melt as he relaxes in my arms and I can literally feel that tug of energy between my heart and his. There are some things only a Momma can provide. I think its that tug of energy, that connection that you can physically feel that he's been craving on those nights when I rock him. And there is nothing in the world like knowing that I'm the one that can give it to him.
There were a few moments last week where I questioned if this was right. Am I making him codependent? Does he need to find a new way to 'self-soothe'? Am I crazy? He's only a year and a half. There is time to make sure he's a productive, independent member of society. There is nothing wrong with being one and needing your Momma.
I have every faith that he's going to be just fine.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Chatterbox
Liam's vocabulary is taking off. Usually, he picks up a word right after we say it, but he doesn't use them all. He does have a huge list that he does use, though.
Today I wrote down as many as I can remember him actively using. They are:
hi
uh oh
ow
thank you
push
whee
hot
cold
all gone
shoe
duck
quack
Pooh
Train (choochoo)
baby
DaDa
Nana
cracker
ball
bubble
no
again
numa
dog
cat
cow
up
car
bye bye
hat
teeth
eye
ear
two
one
three
"E"
"O"
boat
book
out
flower
bird
more
yellow
pool
nemo
tongue
color
wow
nose
tree
All of that and no Mama. I think there are more, but that was all I could think of at the moment. I had him look at some pictures to jog my memory. While I was making the list I pulled up a picture of me holding him and I'm wearing a huge mexican sombrero. I point to the hat and he says, "hat." I point to him and he says, "baby" I point to me and he looks at me and then points at him and says "baby." Oh, well. I think its an unbelievable list. I am amazed every single day at the words that keep coming out. Maybe it is because his mama is such a chatterbox...
(entirely unrelated, but because I'm afraid I'll forget to email this to parties who will think it is funny...I guess I'm feeling like all my friends around me are pregnant....because I had a dream that Penguin was pregnant. Take that hysterectomy, eh?)
Today I wrote down as many as I can remember him actively using. They are:
hi
uh oh
ow
thank you
push
whee
hot
cold
all gone
shoe
duck
quack
Pooh
Train (choochoo)
baby
DaDa
Nana
cracker
ball
bubble
no
again
numa
dog
cat
cow
up
car
bye bye
hat
teeth
eye
ear
two
one
three
"E"
"O"
boat
book
out
flower
bird
more
yellow
pool
nemo
tongue
color
wow
nose
tree
All of that and no Mama. I think there are more, but that was all I could think of at the moment. I had him look at some pictures to jog my memory. While I was making the list I pulled up a picture of me holding him and I'm wearing a huge mexican sombrero. I point to the hat and he says, "hat." I point to him and he says, "baby" I point to me and he looks at me and then points at him and says "baby." Oh, well. I think its an unbelievable list. I am amazed every single day at the words that keep coming out. Maybe it is because his mama is such a chatterbox...
(entirely unrelated, but because I'm afraid I'll forget to email this to parties who will think it is funny...I guess I'm feeling like all my friends around me are pregnant....because I had a dream that Penguin was pregnant. Take that hysterectomy, eh?)
And We're Back
I've been sitting here pondering what to write. It seems while we were on our mini-vacation I was narrating the whole thing in my head, knowing just how I would relate all of the events to you. But, I think along the way what used to be my brain melted in the stifling heat and leaked out of my ear and onto the carpet in my car. Or that could be the soda I spilled. Nonetheless, I haven't any witty way to tell you what went on.
The drive wasn't too bad across the desert. I had thought it would be. I even trained Liam to get used to being sprayed with a squirt gun in case we needed to cool him off during the drive. But, the purple and green gun had stayed where it was, nestled between the parents up front because we hadn't a need to use it and it seemed mean to just spray an innocent toddler strapped into a seat with no reason. I think the reason for our good fortune was that it was overcast, so there was no sun blazing in through the yet untinted windows. Just a searing heat outside, but because of the lack of direct sunlight, the good old A/C did its job well.
Staying with Nana was, as it always is, extraordinarily relaxing. We swam in the pool. We went to the Rainforest Cafe, where Liam was so enamored with the place that he blew kisses to our waitress. Her heart melted, and I thought that we wouldn't have to leave a tip, seeing as how Liam had done it for us. I lost that fight.
The plan was that my cousin was going to bring her boys over (one almost three years and one five months) and they would play, and then we would go to my favorite place of all time Organ Stop Pizza. But, she couldn't get their naps coordinated, so when she came we almost immediately had to leave. It was such a pity because our poor Lemur was so excited to see other children. Have you ever brought a new puppy into a house with a big dog? Have you seen that wide-eyed look on the puppy as it followed the more annoyed big dog around the house? That's what happened. Liam literally pushed me out of the way to follow K around. K, on the other hand, looked at Liam with exasperation and said, "What have you done with the trains?" "Do you know where the trains are?"
I found them before we left.
(Incidentally, Liam is recently obsessed with trains).
Once we all got to Organ Stop Pizza, the boys weren't really able to play or get to know one another because it really isn't a place where you can talk.We were a bit disappointed because they didn't dance excitedly like they did last time. I think it was because last time we were in a dark corner and they couldn't see the organ, the lights, or anything else. this time we were right up front and they both stared with wonder. When we went to leave, Liam tried to pull us back inside and threw a minor tantrum (all two minutes before he promptly fell asleep in his car seat).
Back at Nana's Liam played her organ, and it was amazing to watch. If you could see it, you would see that he looks like he knows what he's doing. He carefully pushed keys with all his fingers instead of banging his hands, and he leaned over to change the various sounds.
We also went to the train park. He was thrilled and spent the entire time on the train saying, "Choo Choo" Just last week a train was a "beep beep car" and now its "train, "choo choo""
Incidentally, he also started saying Dada appropriately. At first it was "Dada no" but no seems to have dropped off.
The only problem was that Liam had no access to the "Numa Numa Dance." He was singing the song to himself most every hour of every day. Once he went in and got the wireless keyboard and brought it out to us and said, "Numa. Numa." Ufortunately, Nana has webtv and can't play flash videos, so I had to sing offkey all weekend for him.
One moment melted my heart. A moment I will never forget. He looked at my Nana in the kitchen. She is almost 90, and pointed at her and said, "Nana" and when she leaned down to see him, he kissed her.
It was filled with moments like that. Moments that let my heart relax and my weary body release some tension. And also, after the oldest and the youngest were in bed, it was filled with skinny dipping.
Could I ask for more?
The drive wasn't too bad across the desert. I had thought it would be. I even trained Liam to get used to being sprayed with a squirt gun in case we needed to cool him off during the drive. But, the purple and green gun had stayed where it was, nestled between the parents up front because we hadn't a need to use it and it seemed mean to just spray an innocent toddler strapped into a seat with no reason. I think the reason for our good fortune was that it was overcast, so there was no sun blazing in through the yet untinted windows. Just a searing heat outside, but because of the lack of direct sunlight, the good old A/C did its job well.
Staying with Nana was, as it always is, extraordinarily relaxing. We swam in the pool. We went to the Rainforest Cafe, where Liam was so enamored with the place that he blew kisses to our waitress. Her heart melted, and I thought that we wouldn't have to leave a tip, seeing as how Liam had done it for us. I lost that fight.
The plan was that my cousin was going to bring her boys over (one almost three years and one five months) and they would play, and then we would go to my favorite place of all time Organ Stop Pizza. But, she couldn't get their naps coordinated, so when she came we almost immediately had to leave. It was such a pity because our poor Lemur was so excited to see other children. Have you ever brought a new puppy into a house with a big dog? Have you seen that wide-eyed look on the puppy as it followed the more annoyed big dog around the house? That's what happened. Liam literally pushed me out of the way to follow K around. K, on the other hand, looked at Liam with exasperation and said, "What have you done with the trains?" "Do you know where the trains are?"
I found them before we left.
(Incidentally, Liam is recently obsessed with trains).
Once we all got to Organ Stop Pizza, the boys weren't really able to play or get to know one another because it really isn't a place where you can talk.We were a bit disappointed because they didn't dance excitedly like they did last time. I think it was because last time we were in a dark corner and they couldn't see the organ, the lights, or anything else. this time we were right up front and they both stared with wonder. When we went to leave, Liam tried to pull us back inside and threw a minor tantrum (all two minutes before he promptly fell asleep in his car seat).
Back at Nana's Liam played her organ, and it was amazing to watch. If you could see it, you would see that he looks like he knows what he's doing. He carefully pushed keys with all his fingers instead of banging his hands, and he leaned over to change the various sounds.
We also went to the train park. He was thrilled and spent the entire time on the train saying, "Choo Choo" Just last week a train was a "beep beep car" and now its "train, "choo choo""
Incidentally, he also started saying Dada appropriately. At first it was "Dada no" but no seems to have dropped off.
The only problem was that Liam had no access to the "Numa Numa Dance." He was singing the song to himself most every hour of every day. Once he went in and got the wireless keyboard and brought it out to us and said, "Numa. Numa." Ufortunately, Nana has webtv and can't play flash videos, so I had to sing offkey all weekend for him.
One moment melted my heart. A moment I will never forget. He looked at my Nana in the kitchen. She is almost 90, and pointed at her and said, "Nana" and when she leaned down to see him, he kissed her.
It was filled with moments like that. Moments that let my heart relax and my weary body release some tension. And also, after the oldest and the youngest were in bed, it was filled with skinny dipping.
Could I ask for more?
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