I am undeniably geeky sometimes

That new Star Trek trailer – well, it’s not really new, even! – the one that just says that a new movie is coming? And has Leonard Nimoy speaking the first few phrases of the 'Star Trek' info, plus the first few notes of the music? It gives me chills and lifts my spirits every time I see it.

Yes, it's yet another prequel. But it's a franchise that sorely needs a reboot. I suppose you could argue the same for Batman or Superman, or any of the others that have had the same, but I guess I care more about my little Trekiverse.

J.J. (Abrams), come through for me, baby. I’m counting on you.

(I told you people I was bored.)

little bee

We've officially found Maddie's Halloween costume. I should probably just wait until November 1 and post a photo of her in it, but what the heck. I'm bored at the moment.

Cute, huh?

Lizzy's going to be a princess -- AGAIN -- but this time, the costume came for free. It's something I purchased for a few bucks at a drugstore after Halloween was over last year, thinking she'd like it for dress-up. But it's got a hoop skirt, and she loves it, and wants to wear it this year. Fine with me -- no more boosting Disney's late-October revenue for us! Sweet.

Matt thinks he and I should come up with something for our church's party Nov. 1. He says we were all TOLD to come dressed up. Hmmmm. What to be, what to be ...

young love

Lizzy announced last week that she has a boyfriend. His name is David, and he is in her class.
Apparently, this relationship is SERIOUS, and requited, not like the crush she has had since the start of school on Connor, the boy who lives down the street (but we're not sure where, just that he gets on the bus at the other bus stop) and whom she would spy in the school hallway or the cafeteria from time to time.

David, apparently, acknowledges that Lizzy is his girlfriend, and yesterday wrote her little notes on scraps of paper. Two of them said "I (heart) you I (heart) you I (heart) you," and one said, "Your the best."

It's not so much this early declaration of love that has me a little puzzled and a mite tad concerned. It's that Lizzy seems to be taking it so seriously.

I overheard her mentioning this boyfriend to our relatively longtime neighbor friend Ethan yesterday when he stopped by our house for awhile. I think he must've seen the scraps of paper, and Lizzy endeavored to explain the situation to him.
"Oh -- those are from my friend, David. He's my boyfriend, at school," she said. And then: "Sorry to talk about him to you." The social realization that this might (I suppose?) hurt Ethan's feelings ... wow. (for the record, Ethan didn't seem to care one way or the other. It's quite possible he has his own social dealings at his own school.)

She has explained to me a few other times that David PROMISED -- as many as three times, one day -- that he would play with her on the playground at recess. Unfortunately, sometimes he goes off and plays some soccer game or other in the grass with his guy friends. One day, Lizzy had to tell me the elaborate tale of the unkept three promises, and the resulting fight they got into, and the sadness on behalf of both during music class, and their happy reunion afterward. (Lizzy: "Do you forgive me, David?" David: "Yes." Hug.) She doesn't know where he lives, but he apparently takes Bus 3. Meaning his parents must be from a richer side of the tracks than we are! I hope they don't mind, once they find out. (yes, that was a joke.)

David is now in her reading group, and this delights Lizzy no end. She has repeatedly bemoaned the fact that he does not sit at her table, the "red" table. No -- he is at the "blue table." How can she BEAR it?!

I asked if anyone else in the class is boyfriend/girlfriend. Nope, says Lizzy. She and David are the only ones. I asked if anyone else knows about them. Yes! She says. Everyone knows.

I asked one day, just for fun, if Lizzy gets mad if he talks to other girls. "Of course not!" she said, indignantly. "Why should I? He can have other friends that are girls."

I plan to ask her teacher about all this when I have a parent/teacher conference with him in a couple of weeks. I'm curious to get his take on it all.

Lizzy was in agony the other night because I explained to her, in the midst of one of these conversations in which Connor also came up, that she really couldn't have more than one boyfriend, and she definitely could NOT marry more than one boy(/man). She just wasn't sure she'd ever be able to choose! It seems there are some residual feelings for Connor that she simply can't ignore.

I wonder if David knows.

update

Hi -- obviously, yes, we made it back from our trip. I was going to write much more about it, but now I don't know quite what to say.

We had a good time with family, and I got to see Mom and Dad's lovely and awesome new house out in the outskirts of Chehalis, Wa.
I actually ended up speaking at Grandma's memorial service, which seemed to go fine. A number of people shared a number of touching stories about her, including the amusing tale of how she and I practically broke our necks during a really fast carriage ride (we weren't driving!) through the Siq at Petra, Jordan. I honestly don't know how I held on, let alone my then-82-year-old grandma. She was a tough old bird, to be sure. And a very kind lady. And a wonderful grandma. Someday, I'll miss her dreadfully.
(the photo at right is my mom, my grandma and me at the Dead Sea in Jan. 2001.)

CORRECTION -- that is not the Dead Sea. I cannot recall right now what it actually is -- the Mediterranean? Something like that -- but the Dea Sea does not have waves. Unless it's really really windy, I suppose. Sorry about misleading y'all. It is from that same trip, though.

I enjoyed reminiscing about her, but it kept niggling at my brain that it was such the type of gathering she would have enjoyed, she must be there somewhere. As I said when I spoke, it's still inconceivable to me that she's not on this earth any more. My mind can't quite grasp the reality of that. I was hoping that the funeral and memorial service -- and, hey, staying at her apartment while we visited, and even divvying up some of her possessions with my cousins and family -- would help. But it didn't seem to.

The actual trip there and back was a bit hairy, considering it was the two kiddos and me, but we made it. We forgot Lizzy's car seat, but it's just as well -- these days, your first checked bag costs $15 (on the airline we flew, but most of them charge something), so it was actually a hair cheaper to buy a $25 one when we got there (we'd have had to check it in both directions). Maddie was just about perfect on the whole trip, despite a couple of colossally poopy diapers before we got on planes; typical. Lizzy was not so great at times -- I had planned to rent a DVD player at the airport, but we didn't have time, so the first three-hour flight was quite a nightmare. I fail to see why my newborn should be so much less trouble than my almost-6-year-old; more on that later. I had splurged on a direct flight on the way back, and never regretted it. It also got us back in time to get home and breathe in and out a couple of times before we had to hop in bed for the night. And I've gotta hand it to United -- they've messed me over but good a couple of times in the past, but on this trip, everything went like clockwork. All flights on time; our last-minute seats were grouped together; everyone was very polite and helpful. Thank you for your prayers. They were answered, abundantly.



Overall, I've been quite a bit more tired since coming back to work -- the trip was no help, most likely -- and I find myself inadvertently falling mostly asleep on the metro on the way home. It's been a push -- an unsuccessful push, thus far -- to squeeze in an 8-hour work day and commute in and out in time to get the kids. Let's hope I figure this out before I get in lots of trouble here at work.

So, yeah, Lizzy's been full of 'tude lately. It's probably got a lot to do with being a big sister, and even more to do with the fact that I'm so much less patient and accommodating with her than I used to be. And a bit more to do with her having started first grade, and coming into contact with lots of new little 'tudes and their too-cool little ways. I have to confess, though -- there are times I want her to GO AWAY, and I'm not too bothered about for how long. In some ways, I wish there were a little island I could escape to with baby Maddie where I'm alone with her to soak her up, uninterrupted. I suspect that island was called "maternity leave," and it has since been destroyed. Ugh.


Don't tell Lizzy, but I just ordered her the dollhouse she's been longing for. That's pretty much going to be her Christmas. It'll be fun to see her freak out when she sees it.

I've probably got more to say, but it escapes me now. Also, it's time to shove off for home again.

it's that time once again

I've officially decided what my most-loathed annual task is: Composing a self-evaluation for my boss to slap onto my annual review.
What is the point of this, anyway? What I think of my own progress/performance should have little to do with how I’m evaluated. Tell ME what YOU think. It’s almost lazy on an employer’s part. (it's not something my boss himself requires, I should say; everyone in the office has to do it.)
And it’s ingrained in me not to brag about myself. Not that there’s a lot to brag about this time around: Let’s see. I got pregnant about this time last year, and then I was out for almost three months of maternity leave, from which I returned only to take two days off for a funeral a week later. Yes! Star employee! But I think women are subtlely trained not to build themselves up much. If anything, we’re taught to knock ourselves down to make each other feel better. “No – you’re not fat! It’s ME! I’m the one who can’t fit into any of my clothes.” Taking a compliment is an incredibly awkward exercise. All in the name of empathy and sisterhood.
In any case, I am feeling ill-equipped to brag about myself, especially this year. I feel so foolish sending my boss an e-mail full of my supposed accomplishments. What must he think? I suppose he understands that he’s the one who asked me to do so. And he doesn’t seem to disagree. He gives me good reviews, so perhaps I should stop flagellating myself.
Still. I hate this. When “I survived the past year! Yay me!” is the best I can do … and yet, given our stupid new computer system, it is something.

On a related note: I have worked for this company for 12 years now -- 1 1/2 in Germany, and nearly 10 years here in D.C. Amazing.

weekend

Lizzy, Maddie and I are hopping a plane in a few minutes to go to my grandmother's funeral in Washington state. Wish me luck on this outward-bound journey -- I change planes in Denver. That could be a zoo. I splurged on a direct flight on the way back.
See you all later.

first day back

Well, we all survived it. I can say that much.
When Matt and I dropped Lizzy and Maddie off at day care -- Lizzy for before/after care, and Maddie for her first full day away from Mommy -- Lizzy shed a few quiet tears, and Maddie practically waved us off with a cheerful smile. She appeared to have had a pretty good day -- lots of quiet observation of the other babies, a bunch of little catnaps, and a few bottles of Mommy milk, taken without complaint from a bottle. Not such a bad day, I suppose. No glass-shattering screaming until about 5:30, when the good ladies who work there decided maybe she could use another bottle, feeding schedule or no ... which is perfectly fine with me.
Lizzy seems to have taken to her new friends by day's end, as well.
Maybe I was the one with the greatest sense of shock. Which is strange, because I wasn't away for THAT long! But I could hardly sleep the night before. I felt quiet despair, yet resignation, at returning to the old routine (the job, I mostly love; it's the commute and the prospect of leaving my baby that I despise). And, I guess it was okay. But we're dismayed by the sheer quantities of time it takes to get in and out of the city from here. It's just almost undoable. We might have to rejigger our schedules a bit, somehow.
But I keep coming back to this: We made certain decisions, and we stand by them. We have to consider the entirety of our lives, or at least the next 20-ish years, not just the here and now. Our girls are in a TERRIFIC school system. We live in a beautiful, family-friendly neighborhood, with kind and friendly neighbors. We have a roomy enough house that's been fun to improve in ways large and small. Yes, we could perhaps be in a two-bedroom apartment in Arlington, with a much shorter commute. But we'd go nuts in a different way in that scenario. And we can't suddenly double either of our salaries, or work from home, or get a job out near the house.
So, this is what we have -- for now. And we're making the most of it. But even knowing that doesn't make it easy to wave goodbye to those dear smiling little faces five mornings a week and forge out into the soul-destroying slog that is the D.C. commute. Ugh ugh UGH. Thank God for weekends.
Did I mention, I really enjoyed my maternity leave?!?

this week

I've been thinking a lot about my 90-year-old grandma, and about family, this week.

I suppose that's because Dad called me late Friday night, telling me that Grandma had had a massive stroke and wasn't expected to live through the night.

One might say, by misguided way of comfort, that she's lived 90 great years, and has had a good life. And one would be right. But what I have failed to realize until now, when I've had similar thoughts directed toward other people whose grandparents have died, is that it doesn't so much matter what the quality of the person's life is. The more important fact is, I'm going to miss her.

I have a lot more eulogizing to do, but fortunately, it'll have to wait for a later post. Turns out, Grandma's more of a fighter than the ever-pessimistic doc gave her credit for. She'll never be the same, but she's still with us -- paralyzed on one side, but holding her own without life support machines. The doc's still pessimistic, but I haven't had a 'bad news' call from my parents yet, so there must be hope, or at least stability in her condition.

Needless to say, it's frustrating to be this far away from her. (she's in Washington state, with the rest of my family.) I used to enjoy hanging out with my grandma now and then, when I lived near Seattle. She's a gracious, loving woman, and a tenacious game-player. The same could be said for most of the members of my family. It's not a family gathering without at least one hotly contested game of cards going on somewhere in the house. That's one reason why it never feels like a holiday when I'm not with my family, and always does when I'm with them, no matter what the calendar might say.

I thought at first that I might be spending this last week of maternity leave in Washington state, for Grandma's funeral. I'm certainly glad that had turned out not to be the case. Instead, though, I have two tumultuous transitional periods of life to sit in this week. Whoopee! It's not like I've been reacting openly, but today when I was driving home from the doctor (nothing serious; a consultation about birth control methods, if you must know), a turtle was crossing the road in front of me, and I was going about 45 miles an hour and swerved to avoid hitting it. So help me, if I had squashed that turtle, I would've been a sobbing wreck for most of the rest of the day. (for the record, I love turtles. They're one of my favorite animals. But still.)

Yesterday was Matt's and my second anniversary. Thus far in our union, we've been doing things in as low-key a manner as we feel we can get away with. Recent penny-pinching (two kids in some form of day care! Parts of two mortgages to chip in for! Higher gas prices! You know the tune for yourselves, no doubt) has led us to go to almost no extremes in our observation of things like birthdays and anniversaries. But that's okay, we've decided. It feels better to be wise these days than to feel obligated to make purchases we really don't need.

Things aren't what make the day, and our marriage, special, after all. It seems that, particularly for an anniversary, I'm just not in the mental groove yet, anyway. We got married. That was fun. We have a marriage, and that is special in and of itself. The day it happened seems not to have much relevance to me at this point, other than that it's my favorite time of year. Largely why we chose to get married when we did -- we both feel the same about autumn. Especially here in the D.C. area, where one can once again step outside one's house without being fried (in the sun) or eaten alive by bugs (in the shade). Where one can again hope for an electric bill that won't be too much of a shock (hee!). When one can watch the leaves change color, and contemplate the passing of seasons, and of life, and the fact that one cannot hold too tightly to any stage, even if one wished to.