The Linus Letters

the longest 10 minutes

2010-05-28T16:11:00.002-04:00

One fun thing about having a second kiddo is that it's interesting to compare and contrast. "Oh!" I say to myself. So, all children aren't like that ... And, sorry, Lizzy, but that's usually been said with some measure of relief. Certainly not always, but often.
Maddie, as it turns out, is, and has always been, a water baby. Even before she could sit up, she's been bathing in the bathtub on her big sister's lap, and she has never minded being doused with water when it comes time to rinse her hair (what little hair she had back then). I've almost never seen her complain about it in the least. In fact, she's taken to leaning back in the bath and attempting to float, occasionally letting her face sink deeper and deeper, just to see what that's all about. I joke that she and Lizzy are on about the same level, in terms of bravery in the water.
Lizzy, who is 5 1/2 years older, started her young life being absolutely terrified of the water. I eagerly anticipated her day care's first 'water play day,' where they fill inflatable pools with about three inches of water and set the young'uns in there to splash a bit and enjoy the sunshine. (She was probably about 8 months old.) I even left work and took my camera to the day care to witness, and record, the event. What I got were priceless pics of her screaming her little pink head off, wearing a ridiculous baby bikini (I hadn't yet realized that it's best to buy swimsuits early in the season, if you're the least bit particular about what you get). Since then, she has been quite clingy to Mommy in the pool. It's only been the past three years or so that I've been able to talk her into being more interested in pool-type activities. Now, though, she's hit her stride. She loves 'lazy rivers,' and modest water slides (if they're straight, and uncovered -- nothing crazy, now!), and jumping in the pool doing 'cannonballs,' if I will catch her. This year, for the first time, she can touch the bottom of the pool in all parts of our local rec center, which is a serious plus and boost to her confidence. She officially loves going swimming.
And Maddie, oh Maddie -- you can imagine her glee. She gives not a second thought to slipping completely under the water, or crawling out of the pool and hurtling herself into our arms, fully confident that we will catch her. I'm not sure whether to be flattered, or horrified, at her utter trust that we won't let her fall.
There's a little circular slide in the shallowest part of the rec center pool where Maddie can truck around under her own power. She marches her sturdy little legs up those slide stairs and slides down, where we have to catch her because she goes too fast and can't stop at the bottom before going under, again and again and again. She cannot get enough.
The pool, as do many I've been to locally, takes a break at the top of every hour. I'm told it's in the hopes that the kids, if forced out of the pool for 10 minutes, will actually go use the facilities and "keep the 'p' out of our ool," as a sign I saw once said. I wish them luck with that fantasy, but it's a nice thought.
Try explaining this to a toddler, though. All that Maddie knows is, I'm dragging her away from the most fun she's ever had in her little life. And there doesn't seem to be the slightest reason. We're not leaving; we're still poolside, for goodness' sake. So, why can't she go charging back in? She wrestles herself to the ground, out of my grasp, but I still won't let her back into the water. I try to walk her around the perimeter, one eye on the clock to see how much longer I have to deal with my impatient toddler. Time goes soooooo slowly.
But, oh, the fun of going back in when our 10 minutes is up. We just earned ourselves 50 more minutes of fun!!!

you know it's been a long time since your last post when ...

2009-08-10T16:11:00.002-04:00

You can't remember the Web site on which you blog. :) Whoopsie!

We visited the 'free zoo' last weekend (not this past, but the one before that) -- we saw the doggies and the kitties and the birdies and the mousies and the things that are reptilian and the fishies. Even some that were called 'Mickey Mouse' fish because of the markings on their tails!
This particular free zoo is called PetSmart. I suppose in D.C. it's just called the National Zoo. But ours is called PetSmart.
Maddie loved the doggies. She was freaking out, but in a good way, when we stood on the other side of the glass, watching them play (they're not for sale, but there either for obedience class or doggie day care). Lizzy wanted to go in and play with them. But I said we weren't allowed.
Then Maddie cleaned the floor some by crawling around a lot. That girl can scoot! And she is not afraid of much. Except for being torn away from Mommy or Daddy. That's about the only thing that makes her cry. Except for going 'bounce bounce SPLAT' at the bottom of the stairs. But we try not to let that happen more often than once a week or so.
We saw two wee kitties that particularly caught our eye. They were brothers, and really cute. One was a whitish yellow tabby, and one was a gray/black tabby. Matt said we could perhaps adopt them if we allowed him to name them after (cartoon) ninjas. But when I said okay, he changed his mind.

Lizzy had a birthday party this past Saturday. On the way home, she said, "Mommy, why don't WE have a pet? (the people hosting the party have a 120-pound pony -- er, golden retriever). We must be the only family that doesn't have a pet."
"I don't know, honey," I said. "I wish we had a pet, too. But at least we have Maddie!"
That answer doesn't seem to satisfy Lizzy.

In all seriousness, though, little Maddie reminds me sooo much of having a puppy. I even call her 'puppy' sometimes. She smells better than a puppy, though, I think.
She has a little dish that we put food in and put on the ground (sometimes -- hey! We can't hold her ALL the time, and I'm just talking about dry snacks, not dinner or anything), and she started yesterday kind of falling forward and putting her face into it to eat.

Perhaps it's time to find a different term of endearment for her.

opinions, please.

2009-07-31T12:45:00.002-04:00

Okay -- so, sales parties have been, and are, pretty popular these days.
I'm fine with that. They're a fun excuse to get together, and sometimes we even want/need the products involved.
But what do you do if a friend invites you to one that you aren't really all that interested in? I guess the obvious answer is 'politely decline.' Oops. I should've done so, I suppose. But even that feels a little rude, if I have no other reason not to go.
My real question -- is it rude, at this point, to go anyway, if I'm not really intending to buy much, if anything at all? And God forbid I be persuaded/browbeaten (by the visiting sales person, not my friend, I hasten to say in this hypothetical assumption) to get more. We really can't afford it, and we don't strictly need (or even want more of, particularly) this product.
I like this friend -- I'd like to show support for her, and I'm happy to hang out with her in this girly-type fashion for a couple of hours -- but I'm feeling guilty, as if by accepting the invitation and showing up, I'm tacitly suggesting I'm going to shovel some money her/their way. Is it taking some sort of advantage to go to the party and buy very little? Especially at this point, when I've said, 'yeah, send me an invitation'?
What say you, friends? How do you handle this?

quick blast

2009-07-16T14:10:00.002-04:00

I was reminiscing on the way to work this morning about how, this time last year, I stepped out of the shower, sneezed, and realized that my water had just broken and we were ready for ACTION!

And now, here we are, a year later, Mickey Mouse cake pan ready for use (black frosting, though? Someone wasn't thinking through that very well. Oops) this weekend, big girl who took her first few steps last week and insists on practicing and growing, big sis who is really excited about her sister's first birthday, etc., etc. Don't tell Maddie, but we got her a couple of Mickey (and Pluto) stuffed animals for her b-day, and Grandma Connie bought her the coolest pair of shoes EVER -- first big-girl pair! They're pink and sparkly and really flexible and, gulp, really expensive. Thanks, Gma Connie! -- and Grandma and Grandpa Williams sent some beautiful clothes (I assume -- they're still wrapped), and I also picked up yet another Baby Einstein video for Maddie last night at Target (the packaging says all over it, 'intended to be watched WITH your baby' -- har! So, it's NOT just baby crack, for when you're trying to load the dishwasher in peace?), and we're going to bake some cupcakes for her 'class' for tomorrow (though almost none of them is old enough for solid food. Eh, whatever -- the teachers will enjoy it). I'm especially amused by how the Mickey and Pluto have been sitting in our front hallway all week, undisturbed by Maddie.
All in all, we'll enjoy our little girl's special first birthday. I can't believe it's here, and I wish it weren't, but it is, so ... we'll do our best.

Coming soon: Stories from the 'gee, now it's time to wean. I wonder how that's done?' zone...

officially losing my baby

2009-07-09T17:50:00.002-04:00

Well ... a week from tomorrow, Maddie turns 1.
WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Oops, sorry ... okay, I've composed myself again. Mostly.
To add insult to injury ... the lady at day care told me yesterday -- the one who is apparently like a second mother to Maddie, she loves her that much -- that Maddie took a step on Tuesday, and two steps yesterday. As a friend said to me today in consolation, though -- these milestones don't really happen until you SEE them happen! (sniff) (thank you, Liz.) ;)

This child ... is so adorable, and so huge, and such a big eater, and just all that is precious and joy-inducing. I love her so much. I have to say, I have truly enjoyed just about every baby-type bit of the past year. I would even do it again, if I could. (with Maddie. Not with a fresh baby. Too risky! I might not get a nice little mellow one that time.)

We just couldn't love her more.

I can't believe, when Lizzy was this age, I got her only half the time that I now get Maddie. Matt and I were apart, and passing her back and forth. How miserable THAT was. I am so grateful that things are so very, very different this time around.

cousins

2009-07-06T16:02:00.002-04:00

They're so cute! Here they all are during our recent visit to Spokane:

If I were more on the ball, I'd include other photos that I actually took, and perhaps some commentary on the trip, even!, ... but I'm afraid I had only enough will and way to spread them to Facebook, and no farther. Alas.

And one more cousin to come! For the first time, my brother and sis-in-law have let on that it's a girl before the baby's born. So -- eight girl cousins here pretty soon! We love girls. (good thing.) :)

for pop-pop

2009-06-06T13:44:00.004-04:00

Matt's dad sent us a package for Lizzy a few days ago -- some really cute outfits from the Philippines.

Since he's so far away, and the blog is often the best way to impart visual informaton, we'd like to post some photos for him of Lizzy in her new tropical finery.

penny for your thoughts

2009-06-01T14:57:00.004-04:00

You know those moments when you or your significant other does something, and the other person reacts strongly, and you think, "Hold on, now -- am I nuts, or is he?"

We had one of those moments this weekend. I would love to know what others' reactions are to this scenario.

It's pretty basic, and we've all been there -- you see a penny on the floor. Or perhaps you drop a penny, though that's slightly different, so let's stick with, you find a penny on the floor.

Do you pick it up, or do you let it sit there?
There are variables, of course. Is the floor in your own home, or is it on some nice clean carpet in your office, or is it on the floor of a bathroom (eww), or some other sticky, high-traffic area (a sidewalk, a gutter, a coffee shop)? These might be determining factors.

All I can say is, the specific scenario I was in occurred at home, in our kitchen. We were cleaning the house for a church meeting there the next day.

I saw a penny on the kitchen floor, and I pitched it in the trash. I might've put it on the counter to be dealt with later, but it was kind of gooped up -- had some gross sticky stuff on it, the way coins do sometimes. So, I pitched it.

There's some backstory here with my husband commenting previously on 'people who throw money away' -- and he did mean literally -- but I guess at the time I didn't think he meant mere pennies. I mean, who cares that deeply about A (singular) penny?

So I thought to ask him. I baited him with something like, 'are you gonna get on my back about throwing a penny away just now? It IS money.'

He looked horrified, and stricken. 'DID you???' he said. He then dug around in the trash until he found it, and stuck it in his pocket. To be forgotten about and washed sometime this coming week, no doubt.

I dunno. I find that odd. I mean, is it worth my time to pick up a penny -- a mere penny! -- and walk over to my wallet and put it in? Especially if it's goopy?

He's got change sitting around all over the place, as well. Is it really going to ever get taken somewhere and turned in for 'usable' money? To be determined.

I do use pennies. I do keep a few in the coin area of my wallet. It's quite satisfying to pull out exact change now and then, after all.

I think my time in Germany affected me in this way, a bit. The military has deemed it not monetarily sensible to ship pennies overseas, so on base, they round up or down to the nearest nickel during transactions. I LOVED that. I'm so on board with the folks who want to do away with pennies. Let's do away with dollar bills, while we're at it, and go to dollar coins. (I know we have them, but no one uses them ...) I'm all for that.

So. What do you think? Am I insanely wasteful and unappreciative? Or is Matt just a touch psycho here?
Go ahead and cast your vote. :)

parental mistakes, part (however many)

2009-05-18T10:51:00.002-04:00

I had a horrifying realization yesterday.
We've got our one trip of the year coming up next month -- my cousin is getting married in the Houston area, and I had the brilliant idea of talking those heading up the 20-year high school reunion into tacking it onto the next weekend. Two vacations in one! So we'll be gone for 10 days in mid-June. Anyhow, it will be fun, and Lizzy is looking forward with great anticipation to seeing her cousins again for two or three days. I think we could probably leave her behind, and she’d be fine with that, except for missing her sister.
So yesterday. I’m sitting down with my calendar, trying to figure out the two-parents-working nightmare of what to do with one’s school-aged children over the summer, when I realize: I am pulling Lizzy out of the last six days of her first grade school year.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I had no idea they’d still be full steam ahead in the third week of June. Really? Really??
And then they’re not starting up school again until the second week of September. Which, if you ask me, is how it should be, but I was working on the assumption it was to be the tail end of August, as it seems to fall typically. There's two weeks where her whereabouts will be unaccounted for. I've been warned by other working parents that this happens at the end of every summer -- the school-sponsored summer program ends two weeks before school begins. Hoo boy.
I’ve just been feeling not up to the task recently. Things have been falling through the ever-larger cracks in my brain with frightening regularity. Last week, I had to leave work early to get Maddie because, the night before, I’d forgotten to put the milk I expressed at work into the fridge. Yes – I remembered to take the pump to work (check!), with bottles in the container (check!), took the breaks at work (check!), remembered to bring the pump/milk home from work (check!), brought it in from the car (check!), and LEFT IT ON THE COUNTER to go bad overnight. But, lo and behold, Maddie did make it through the day, mostly by compensating by eating ever-larger amounts of ‘grown-people food’ – they feed her WELL at that day care! Pancakes, Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, etc. – and after I picked the girls up, we ran into our neighbors on the way home, who invited us for a fun bike ride. So all turned out well, aside from me once again losing yet more stock with the good people I work with who must think me mentally challenged at that point. (and my point here is, I don’t think they’d be far wrong.)
I just almost don’t trust myself any more. This weekend, we had a complex ‘birthday party for one hour, then leave for soccer game’ schedule worked out, and I remembered all elements necessary (stuff for baby, drinks and snacks for Lizzy, birthday present wrapped, etc., swimsuit, soccer gear) EXCEPT for shinguards. Which I am told by those who play soccer, one should not be without. So we just skipped the soccer game, which was probably just as well, but I felt awful about.
Life with a full-time job and kids is just too much, too much, too much. I know I am among millions of other parents in this same boat. But I still reserve the right to whine about it. :)
Tomorrow morn will mark another attempt to get up at 5 a.m. to register Lizzy for a Fairfax County swim class on Saturday morning for the summer. (which, by the way, she’ll miss the first class of due to my reunion in Washington state.) Then I will get myself and girls ready, drop off Lizzy, and take Maddie to the doc for confirmation of suspected ear infection, and medicine. Here’s hoping I remember all the stuff I need.
Who remembers way back when this blog used to be fun to read? (show of hands) Again, my memory’s foggy, but I seem to recall that it once was.

collector

2009-04-30T16:51:00.004-04:00

Folks, it's that time once again -- Tent Caterpillar Season.

Last year, Lizzy had a blast collecting 'pillars with friends in the neighborhood. She's really excited that the wee guys are back!

We have a tree on the side of our house that we're not wild about -- if it was even planted intentionally, it's outgrown its aesthetic quality, and is just rather tall and weird-looking. Our friendly neighborhood arborist told us what it was a few days ago, and I already have forgotten -- some sort of cherry, I think? In any case, the caterpillars are wild about it. They have set up their little tents all over that tree, and right now the tents are a mass of squirming little fuzzy dudes. It's actually kind of gross. I've very little understanding of the tent caterpillar life cycle, so I'm not sure what they're doing. Not quite big enough to leave the, er, hive yet? We've seen a few that have ventured beyond the tree, but not many. Any day now, though.

Two evenings ago, we managed to find two adventuresome individuals, and Lizzy excitedly had me stick them in her insect keeper thingie that we got her last year. She named them Friday (her 'favorite day of the week') and Chuck ('a cool guy's name'). We swapped out the first Friday and Chuck for a second Friday and Chuck last night so that they wouldn't die during their stay in our house. Or that was the idea.

It's so weird how the driveway/house exterior/fence/etc. is crawling with them for a couple of weeks, and then ... they go away. Where, I'm not sure. But now I know that they're certain to come back next year. Er, unless we do get rid of that tree.

The other thing Lizzy is longing to collect this week are 'kooky pens.' It's the sudden rage of her classroom. They're these stubby little pens that I've seen sold at Borders for four bucks apiece (I now see online that they're everywhere -- who knew) that have a clip -- her classmates clip them onto their belt buckle loops -- and rubbery fuzzy hair and individual names on the back. She borrowed one called 'Romeo' from a friend last night. If I don't come home with a kooky pen tonight, I'm not sure I'll be allowed in the door, as far as she's concerned.

the world is my feeding tray

2009-04-29T14:54:00.003-04:00

I enjoy the babycenter.com updates I receive weekly. They're often helpful. Sometimes, I think they're out to lunch. (no spanking -- ever!!)
But they're usually pretty on target.
I'm enjoying this little bit of encouragement today:

Your life: Housekeeping woes
When you get to the point that the mess in your home is causing you stress, remember these three powerful words: Lower your standards. It's hard to keep up with the cleaning, laundry, and organization the way you did pre-baby, especially once your little one is able to move about and scatter toys all day long.

Which explains the his, hers -n- baby's heaps of laundry (clean, at least) on our dining room chairs right now.

But I'm laughing at the advice because our baby has reached that stage where cleanliness is actually vital. Vacuuming is the one thing that must be done -- if we could, probably a couple of times a day.

We had friends over a couple of weekends ago. They have kids, so they totally 'get it.' Which was handy when the guy (Christian) found Maddie chewing on something -- a leaf, as it turns out. Which had been tracked in on the bottom of someone's shoe, and probably not that day.

In a moment of boredom, she will crawl over to something she sees on the floor, carefully pincer it and bring it to her mouth. Often, it's an errant Cheerio. But a couple of times, it's been a clod of dirt.

Thank the Lord our baby has a healthy gag reflex/choking mechanism. Good gracious.

irresistible lists

2009-04-27T16:58:00.002-04:00

I can't resist lists. They make for such easy blog posts!
This one comes courtesy of one Ms. Erin ...

Copy and paste this into your own blog, if you want to participate. Then, bold the items that you’ve actually done.

1. Started your own blog (duh)

2. Slept under the stars (might have -- but don't remember for sure)

3. Played in a band

4. Visited Hawaii

5. Watched a meteor shower (tried -- can't recall if there were many meteors, though)

6. Given more than you can afford to charity (this one's a judgment call, it should be noted)

7. Been to Disneyland

8. Climbed a mountain

9. Held a praying mantis

10. Sang a solo

11. Bungee jumped

12. Visited Paris

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea (that would be a little scary!)

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch

15. Adopted a child

16. Had food poisoning

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty

18. Grown your own vegetables (technically, I grew beans once as a kid as a school project. But I really shouldn't be able to properly count this one.)

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France

20. Slept on an overnight train Oh, I'm QUITE sure I've done this one. Multiple times! Both on a sleeper train, and ... not.)

21. Had a pillow fight (I think?)

22. Hitch hiked

23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill (Many. But my kids were!)

24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb

26. Gone skinny dipping

27. Run a Marathon

28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice

29. Seen a total eclipse

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset

31. Hit a home run

32. Been on a cruise

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors

35. Seen an Amish community

36. Taught yourself a new language (Taught ... myself? Really? Someone's taught themself a new language?)

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (uhhh ... I feel I should answer yes? But ...)

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person

39. Gone rock climbing

40. Seen Michelangelo’s David (this is one of my huge European regrets. But the line wrapped around the museum, and it was our last day in Florence ... so my friend Jennifer and I spent our 4,000 lira on gelato, instead. But I hear I missed out.)

41. Sung karaoke Hee.

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt

43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant

44. Visited Africa

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight

46. Been transported in an ambulance

47. Had your portrait painted

48. Gone deep sea fishing

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris (nope, just the first level. But I walked that far! Kind of impressive. [?])

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling

52. Kissed in the rain (Does watching Spider-Man or Four Weddings and a Funeral count? Darn. Then, not that I can recall.)

53. Played in the mud

54. Gone to a drive-in theater

55. Been in a movie (only the home variety)

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies (Campfire girl candies, though)

62. Gone whale watching (really want to!)

63. Got flowers for no reason

64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma (and then went to softball practice an hour later. Made the sprints around the bases MUCH more interesting.)

65. Gone sky diving (really want to!)

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp (Ugh.)

67. Bounced a check (not for a VERY long time, I'm proud to report)

68. Flown in a helicopter

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy (Mom will probably tell you that I've saved them all.)

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial (Duh.)

71. Eaten Caviar (mmmm ... maybe. Not sure.)

72. Pieced a quilt

73. Stood in Times Square

74. Toured the Everglades (I was seven, but being in the water with alligators staring at you from water-level leaves a lasting impression.)

75. Been fired from a job

76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London (seen 'em, but not changing)

77. Broken a bone (can you believe, never? as I hastily search for wood to knock on)

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle (speeding? I guess?)

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person (again, seven. Again, lasting impression)

80. Published a book

81. Visited the Vatican

82. Bought a brand new car

83. Walked in Jerusalem

84. Had your picture in the newspaper

85. Read the entire Bible

86. Visited the White House

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

88. Had chickenpox

89. Saved someone’s life

90. Sat on a jury

91. Met someone famous

92. Joined a book club

93. Lost a loved one

94. Had a baby

95. Seen the Alamo in person (I might have when I was a kid. I guess it did not leave a lasting impression.)

96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake

97. Been involved in a law suit

98. Owned a cell phone

99. Been stung by a bee

Second in line

2009-04-18T16:45:00.002-04:00

There are a lot of things to love about having Kid No. 2. For instance, I just popped up into the attic and fetched down four toys -- three of them on the more expensive side -- and now Maddie's playing with them. All for the low low cost of just storing them for a few years.

When we cranked the first one up, the music (insert total plug for Leapfrog products here) made me nostalgic for the many, many hours Lizzy and I spent with the thing. It's a small table that encourages a growing baby to stand. Maddie's a wee bit young for it, but she's trying to pull herself up on stuff already. Mostly, she gets to leaning toward it, then falls into, say, a table leg and bonks herself on the forehead and cries. The cost of learning.

Maddie has no lack of help in figuring these new toys out. Lizzy just loooooooves to play with these toys, in the guise of showing Maddie how they work. We're watching this happen, sort of picturing Maddie never developing at all, learning soon that she can sit back and let Lizzy do all of the work. Ahhh, help. When you want it, it's unavailable, and when you do get it, it's in all too great a quantity.

In other 'news,' we saw the circus today. I was hoping for some stellar scrapbook photos, but the light doesn't allow for much of that. I'll try to see if any of them are worth posting later on. All in all, though, Matt and I are pretty sure that's the last show of any kind we'll see for awhile. Lizzy just isn't that wowed any more. She spent a lot of time being upset that we weren't in the FIRST ROW (we were in the second row, though!), because the FIRST-ROW spectators were taken out to the floor and driven around during one of the manic Disney meets Cirque de Soleil numbers. (this was actually Barnum and Bailey, for the record.) And the people-movers were even shaped like teacups! The injustice!! So, we'll stick with buying necessities for ourselves instead of lavish productions for our spoiled suddenly pre-teen. Oh yeah -- Lizzy has informed me that she's too old for Disney princess stuff. She traded her pink Disney princess backpack for a blue High School Musical-themed pack last weekend. Ahhh, the end of an era.

Until Maddie gets there -- hurrah! I'm already looking forward to it.

Is change gonna come?

2009-04-15T16:09:00.003-04:00

Don't worry -- I'm not suddenly going to do a political post. :) Just business (so to speak) as usual, for this space.

Our joyful little Maddie has always seemed to get a huge kick out of being on the changing table. I don't know if it's the up-close face-to-face with some of her favorite Big People, but she smiles and smiles and loves to interact there. That's where she giggled for the first time, in fact, on Halloween. (and I don't think she was just laughing at my football jersey and the black under my eyes. But I guess you never know.)

These days, though, she's so active, it's become a real challenge to get that dirty diaper off and a clean one on. It feels like I'm trying to change a diaper on a chicken roasting on a spit; Maddie will flip over to her stomach, then her back, and just keep on revolvin'. She loves giving Mommy a challenge, perhaps?

The generally sure-fire weapon in my arsenal has been my long hair. If I dangle it over her face (putting my head sideways), she grabs it and yanks it back and forth, but at least she is thus occupied and holding still, on her back. This also hurts, and puts my face uncomfortably close to the "action," but it works, so I deal.

What I really don't like are the couple of times she has grabbed my hair, yanked my head close and then employed her froggy kick to my chin. This child is STRONG, y'all. Strong and playful, and almost always happy. I suppose I can't get too upset at damage she doesn't even know she's causing.

easter

2009-04-13T15:25:00.003-04:00

Maddie let us keep this rabbit hat on her head for more than 0.3 seconds! Longer than her sister at her age, that is. Yay Maddie!

Wee Maddie has really gotten into the crawling. At least, fundamentally -- she can do it pretty well. Something about her slightly jerky movements reminds me of a mechanical toy. It's just the cutest thing -- like seeing a chubby plastic doll chugging along.
She doesn't really love it, though. It's more a method of convenience. If everyone, or the people she wants (Matt or me), leave a room and she notices and doesn't like it, she'll trek into the next room, looking for us. (but it's not like we leave her for long; don't get concerned!)
When Lizzy learned to crawl, she was everywhere, as I recall. Loving it; testing the new skills to the limit. Maddie seems more of a content child, dipping into the newest skill only when practical.

mourning my lack of dink-dom

2009-03-09T16:24:00.004-04:00

I've been pondering off and on lately, for some reason, a life stage that I didn't experience.
The fact that I missed it is my own fault (obviously, for those of you who have known me for years), and so I'm not blaming anyone. More just wondering what I missed, I suppose.
Because it seems like there's a lot of value in knowing one's spouse for years before having children. I know some people do things "the right way" -- marriage before kids -- and still a kid comes along almost instantly for them, as well. But I rather envy the folks who had a few years between wedding and firstborn.

I recall as a singleton thinking that certain tasks -- a classic example would be, bringing a nice home-cooked dish to a potluck -- should be more the area of the married couple. I'm the single person. I can get away with providing the bag of chips or bakery cookies or easy salad or something. What makes me laugh now is, I give myself the same excuses as a married parent. Hey -- I have no time, right? So someone else will still have to provide the really good stuff. (this example probably speaks more to my general laziness regarding food preparation than anything.) Fortunately for my hypothetical fellow potlucking friends, my husband doesn't subscribe to this theory, and will usually go overboard to provide something fitting.

That's obviously a silly example. More important is the one-on-one time with my spouse. Getting to know him, building common memories, doing a few grown-up things before the decades of kid things descended. Even just one grown-up vacation together, perhaps? A bit of money spent on ourselves, not kids or kid care?

The time spent just feathering the nest would've been nice, too. And planning things slowly, one step at a time ... There are so many projects I would love to dive into -- wedding photo album, say -- that languishes undone in favor of laundry or some child-related need.

I don't really wish I could go back and do many things over again. I truly acknowledge the wisdom that says that I learned from my mistakes. I do feel that I have. But the one thing I wish I could give my spouse that I never really fully will be able to prove to his satisfaction is the gift of knowing that I really, truly 100 percent choose to be with him because ... well, because I want to be with him. And again, thinking back on how things went down, who could blame him for always doubting that? He would have to be stupid to NOT doubt that. Though, by the time we got married (and still), I would not have been with anyone else for all the world.

Marriage just by necessity takes a back seat to the children's concerns. And we've got a loooong road to walk before we're done chasing after children's concerns. Sometimes I wish we'd had a little 'us' time first.

And then my more cynical, sensible self says, perhaps if I hadn't gotten pregnant, I never would have gotten married at all. I know myself. I know the levels of perfection and idealism I put on certain things. Would I ever have actually chosen to marry someone? I'm betting I wouldn't have.
When I think about it that way -- not to mention what a sweet, cool, fun, talented, deeply interesting and conversational guy I ended up with -- how things went down isn't so bad.

I wouldn't for one second say that, in general, a life lived without husband and/or children is a life not fully lived. But I would say for me, I would've felt a deep lack. And regret.
I often truly believe my deepest motivator is the avoidance of regret. I don't know how sound that sort of logic is, but it seems to be the way I operate.

All that said ... I'll be happy with what I have, and try to ignore the little what-ifs that occasionally creep in.

random shots

2009-03-07T22:58:00.010-05:00

Here are some photos, taken within the past three weeks. Just for funsies.

The girls! (on Valentine's Day)

Matt and his (little) girls.

Lizzy and her nearly head-sized meatball from one of our favorite restaurants, Buca di Beppo (where we ate a family Valentine's Day dinner)

Matt and his favorite dessert ("without a doubt!" he says.) (and, yes, he shared.)

Maddie, being her cute and happy self.

A hip -n- hilarious food pattern (prunes, of all things!) that I couldn't resist snapping a photo of.

The view out our front door, last Monday.

A picturesque fire Matt made that day. (note snow still on logs!)

what a great day!

2009-03-07T22:20:00.005-05:00

I just have to blab a bit about what a great day we had.
To start with, I got on the new bike we bought for me a few weeks ago FOUR TIMES. Four times! Matt wasn't even home for a good chunk of today, yet I took four (okay, of varying distances, but still) bike rides!!
The 70-degree weather didn't hurt a bit. I told a couple of people that, to me, this would probably be remembered as the best weekend of the year, weather-wise. Still too early for almost all of the bugs (but they're comin'), nice and warm, but NOT TOO HOT. Really, that's all it takes.
I meant to rave about how great it feels to have a bike again back when we bought it -- three weeks ago now -- but just haven't gotten the chance. I last had a bike five years ago. It was a yellow mountain bike with front shocks that I thought were spiffy. I bought it in Germany, at one of the military bases there. As my dad pointed out, it was probably a bit too big for me. My neck got sore sometimes from riding it -- I had to lean over too far, and tilted my head too much. But I rode it a lot in Germany. There was a back route through spargel fields to the next wee town. Then I'd ride back along a bike path next to the street. How I love Germany for its bike paths. And spargel fields! Sometimes, I could hear a cuckoo who must've lived in a nearby tree when I'd pedal past. A cuckoo! How cool is that.
Anyway, I put a lot of miles on that bike, and liked it quite a lot, whether or not it fit quite right. And then, someone stole it. From my apartment building in Rosslyn. Shortly after I'd decided that, now that I had a baby (and a bunch of baby stuff), it would no longer fit in the smallish one-bedroom apartment I had there. So I put it in the basement, but unfortunately all of the good spots to lash it to were taken by other bikers. (railings, etc.) So I just wound a chain through the frame and wheels, and took the seat off. But that wasn't enough of a deterrent, turns out.
Matt believes he even saw the guy who took it. That's a funny story in and of itself, but it's a bit too un-PC to tell here. Ask me sometime.
Anyway ... I've been mourning that bike ever since. Not the bike, actually; but I've been bummed, and rather bitter (as it was stolen -- stealing is one thing that REALLY CHAPS MY HIDE), not to have a bike for this amount of time. I do invest in a certain amount of self-pity since I've been a mom. Hello -- not much is mine anymore. My body still isn't yet all mine from this last go-round. I don't have much money, even less time, etc. etc. ... okay, enough about that. But I certainly didn't have a bike. And exercise opportunities are painfully hard to come by.
So this tax season, Matt decided that the one splurge we would make would be bicycles, and enough kiddo stuff to make them usable. This took the form of a decent bike from a bike shop for me, and a lesser, but (we hope) still serviceable bike from Target for him. We gave Craigslist a shot for a bike trailer (Maddie) and one of those copilot thingies where it makes the grown-up's bike a tandem of sorts, with a kid seat on the back (Lizzy), but we kept getting beaten out, so we said, you know, okay. We'll just buy them. Ugh. So, we did.

This is the first weekend that we've had all the pieces in place. Out we went! Since Matt had a music practice to get to, Lizzy opted to squeeze into the bike trailer with Maddie, and amazingly enough, it worked. First time out, we went a fair distance, and when we forgot to bring a pacifier and Maddie started squawking (she was tired), Lizzy sang her to sleep. Sweet big sister!
The downside to biking today was, we've still had so much snow on the ground until yesterday (or, in some cases, today) that the ground was still quite wet and squishy and, in some places, muddy. I don't have a mudflap on my back tire, so at one point, I looked back into the trailer to see a big mud splotch on Maddie's cheek. Whoops!
Mighty fine day, I tell you. Tomorrow looks fairly promising, too!

girls and self-esteem

2009-03-04T14:48:00.003-05:00

Man, this stuff starts early.
Lizzy recently got a writing board from IKEA -- it's a nice little addition to the living room, and she finds fun things to do with it. Write messages for visitors, draw pictures and have us guess what they are, etc.
The most recent thing on the board is a line down the middle, and two categories: "Likes Lizzy" on the left side, and "Dosent like Lizzy" on the other side.
When I first saw the sign, the score was 1 to 1. Maddie and I have since voted, making the score 3 to 1. (Maddie told me how she wanted me to vote on her behalf.)
"Who said 'doesn't like Lizzy'?" Matt asked when he saw the board. "She did, of course," I said.
She wouldn't tell Matt why she voted that way. I tried later that night, at bedtime.
"I don't want to tell you," she said. "I won't tell anyone. Some things, I don't want anyone to know."
Also recently, she's been really insistent that we respect the privacy of her bedroom. Which is fine with me, though I do reserve the right to peek in there occasionally for such purposes as to see if she's still taking a (rare) nap, etc. But I try to respect her privacy, for the most part. She can really get mad if I barge in without announcing myself.
I mean, really. She's not even six and a half yet! Where does she GET this stuff??
I've been struggling lately with the balance between correcting my child and boosting her self-esteem. And trying (far too often, unsuccessfully) to model respect for her. But she's been doing a lot of shouting at us lately, and attempting to order us around, and lots and LOTS of interrupting.
What on earth? Is it a stage? Have we already gone horribly wrong as parents? Have we applied too much discipline? Not enough? Sometimes I think one, sometimes the other. Did we wait too long to have child No. 2?
This parenting gig is not for the faint of heart.

note to self

2009-03-04T13:26:00.001-05:00

I never realized how good spicy food feels on a scratchy throat. Seriously! Kind of like a fancy treatment of some kind.
Thank you, tofu curry from the food court!

other notes

2009-03-01T22:17:00.003-05:00

Lizzy has come through a really bad flu the past few days. She stayed home Thursday and Friday, and Saturday we spent seven hours at the after-hours doctor clinic with her hooked up to an IV for most of it. She had been throwing up for most of two days, and was complaining about her stomach hurting, and I got worried. (also, there was a story in the newspaper earlier that week about two local pre-teens who DIED of the flu. Holy cow.) That was, naturally, not the most fun way to spend a Saturday, but I do think it helped Lizzy get better, and I don't know how it would've gone otherwise. So I guess the crazy inconvenience, etc., was worth it.
Work has turned into a giant nightmare lately. I know it's somewhat suicidal to complain about work on the great blogosphere, so I will leave it at, we suddenly have a lot more to do in my department these days. And since my department is small, that's a problem. It means that I'm mostly okay if I work like crazy and try not to worry about being as careful as I'd like to be, if I'm there five days a week. But if I miss a day -- and, these days, SOMETHING comes up most weeks (doc appt., child illness, snow), I am done for. I don't even know what we'll do when someone goes on vacation. (I should note that I'm quite grateful I'm employed, that doesn't seem to be in danger, I still like what I do, etc., so I really have nothing to complain about. I know.) Unfortunately, there's what's being touted as a huge (for the D.C. area) snowstorm bearing down on us -- I see it starting to fall outside -- and that portends absolute catastrophe for work this week. I hate being freaked out by snow. I'd love to be one of those people who enjoys it, but given the current work situation, I do not have that luxury. And I'm rather bitter about it all.
It feels like a real no-win situation, and, you know, I have enough stress right now. But we'll get through the week somehow, and my stock at work will slide a little further, and ... it stinks, but again, I suppose I'm still employed.
And there's always the hope of getting sleep in more than two-hour chunks someday. (which relates to nothing except the resulting addled condition of my brain.) I have faith it will happen. Someday.
Maybe the up side to the snow is that I'll have a concrete situation to point to when (as I've heard will be soon) we're capable of setting up a work-from-home situation. (I said CAPABLE. I didn't say PERMITTED.) And as much as I'd love to work from home a couple days a week, I don't expect that. But how grand it would be to be able to put in, say, a half-day if we're all home because we're socked in by snow.
Ahhh, one can dream.
So, enjoy the snow, those of you who enjoy snow. I'll take some small measure of happiness knowing that it pays off for someone.
But, c'mon. It's MARCH. In VIRGINIA ... Bah.

twister and shouter

2009-03-01T22:01:00.003-05:00

Our little Maddie is a very different baby than she was even two weeks ago. With the babies, it feels like they hit a plateau of sorts now and then, and you think "Huh? Why aren't you (fill in the blank -- eating solid foods yet, crawling yet, sleeping better yet, etc.)" And then, all of a sudden, practically out of nowhere, they start doing something new!
Maddie is now sitting up super well by herself, and figuring out how to get places by sort of falling forward or sideways, then rolling one way or the other or stretching herself out or any non-crawling way to get whatever it is that catches her eye. I'll leave the room for a minute (usually, Lizzy's in there with her, so it's not like Maddie's alone), and I'll come back, amazed at how far she's gotten -- usually stuck in a corner of some sort, but often not unhappy about it. Again, she's not even crawling yet! Though she has started to do a backwards scootch sort of thing. I had to start making sure she was wearing a solid (snap-crotch) top as part of her outfit, because she would get a rug burn on her tummy when the backwards scootch made her top slide up. What a turkey.
She started eating solid foods all of a sudden, too. One day, I tried feeding her chicken, and that was a spectacular success. Today, she ate an entire container of baby food (applesauce/cherries), plus some of a peaches container, from me at home! Unprecedented. She's been reserving that trick for the ladies at day care. And she's been a Cheerios fiend for a couple of weeks now. She LOVES her Cheerios! I've heard it said before, and I'll repeat it: Whoever invented Cheerios, it's as if they did it with babies in mind. Those little pincher fingers learn so well on Cheerios.
All of this new movement has its downsides, of course -- Maddie's now rolling around on the bed, so the fact that we don't have her in a crib is suddenly a real problem. We got out the crib months ago, and Matt has it mostly set up, but naturally there's one piece missing, and naturally it's not something you get get online ... ugh. Lizzy practically skipped the crib stage in favor of a high-sided bed from Ikea. I'm tempted to try the same with Maddie, but this probably breaks all kinds of vital baby-survival rules, so I imagine we'll have to fix or get a crib that actually functions. Drat.
Also -- Maddie has gotten stellar, pretty much as of this weekend, at twisting herself onto her tummy almost immediately upon being placed on the changing table. I have yet to master changing a diaper when the kid is face-down, so I'm at a disadvantage. I think it's suddenly a two-person job, this diaper-changing -- one person to distract one end, and the other to take care of business at the other end.
One last Maddie note. I've decided that if Maddie were a superhero (bear with me on this one), her super power would be a supersonic screech. I believe those of you acquainted with my daughter in person have probably heard what I'm talking about. The difference these days is that she's hitting that high note (or frequency?) FOR FUN. She'll be sitting on the floor, playing, and shrieking her head off. The screech has never bothered me overly, but it makes Matt's head just about explode. I've not seen a baby as screechy as ours. Good thing she's mostly good-natured. But when she shrieks (with happiness) these days, I picture superbabies all over the area (and perhaps dolphins and dogs, as well), pricking up their ears and preparing to lend a super-hand. She's got the communique part down, plus, she can pierce the eardrums of any bad guys! Pretty sweet.
I'd post a photo of the increasingly chubby child, but my computer has decided that it doesn't want to be terribly user-friendly about downloading photos from my camera. Which is a real shame, since that's much of the reason I purchased the piece of crud. I'm still pretty unhappy with the computer situation, but I don't have enough free time these days to mess with it to have it occupy much of my mental capacity for outrage.

our little model

2009-02-18T16:44:00.007-05:00

We had a practice photo shoot with the uber-talented iPete earlier this week. As expected, he pulled out some great effects! Though he had a pretty cute subject to work with, in my opinion.
He said I could share the results, so here are a few shots. Again, that's courtesy of iPete! Photog (and musician, and friend) extraordinaire!

I'm editing this to clarify -- we're not practicing modeling for Lizzy, we're helping Pete launch a second (third? fourth? fifth?) career in child photography! I'm not sure how much 'help' he needs, but we didn't mind reaping the collateral photos that came along with it.

cuddles

2009-02-17T12:49:00.002-05:00

Recently, an old (as in longtime) friend who has a baby around Maddie's age remarked on her blog that around 6 months was one of her favorite 'baby ages' -- they're cute and cuddly, interactive, but not too mobile (and independent) yet. I commented that I was having a hard time with the stage. Missing my newborn, and yet a bit impatient with my child's impatience to be able to amuse herself (by scooting around and getting into trouble).
I think I've changed my mind.
Maddie is such a treat to merely pick up these days. It's like handling a koala bear. She kind of curves herself into you -- until she feels like pushing away a few seconds later in pursuit of something new, that is -- and the top of her head is so soft. She (physically) reminds me of Verne the turtle, from the 'Over the Hedge' comic strip. He's got a little spike of hair on top, and a prominent nose, and cute little fingers, and a poochy tummy, just like my wee girl. As her daddy said, Maddie looks like a cartoon character -- all circles held together with chub.
And she's reaching for us these days, which of course warms my heart. Reaches and rewards with big smiles. Unless she sees me and she's hungry, in which case I get cries. But that's okay.
When we put her on her tummy, she pushes herself way up, and sometimes leans back on her haunches, as if considering the possibilities. It's getting easier to imagine the day she will be scooting around, exploring all on her own.
She's getting more of the hang of the solid food-eating, too. Still not exactly all the way there, but so much better. Not sleeping terribly well yet, either, but I'm dealing.
Big girl, getting bigger.

tonight's dilemma

2009-02-17T10:48:00.002-05:00

A movie of the highest importance -- to one of us, at least -- is released on DVD today.
Also, the first 'America gets to vote' episode of 'American Idol' is on tonight, complete with the loathsome Tatiana.
What to do? What to do?
Do I deny the 6-year-old her right to watch the movie I didn't get her to the theater to see? No way am I staying up late enough after her bedtime to watch 'my' show. Two hours of A.I.? Sounds like a bit much, and yet -- I've GOT to be there!
The Hubby says, no big deal! We have two TVs.
And I wonder: It's bad enough to be the family that will be watching TV all evening. Do I really want to be That Family? The one who is watching two DIFFERENT TVs all evening?
Ugh.

vermin update

2009-02-17T10:44:00.003-05:00

It's now more than halfway through February. Time to take stock of certain things.
I am ready to declare our home lice-free (as judging from my child's bugless, non-itchy hair and scalp) and squirrel-free (as judging by the lack of noises in the attic. And trust me, I'm awake plenty often to have heard them).
May I take this opportunity to simply say,
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

winter of my content

2009-02-12T11:20:00.004-05:00

As I rode home on the metro yesterday, I contemplated the fact that I was slightly annoyed that it was still light out, and I'd been a little too warm all day.
And then I realized, with some shock: I'm actually not tired of winter. I would like it to continue for a bit longer.

I've been conditioned for so long -- living anywhere that I've lived but the D.C. area -- to dread winter, and rejoice as it passes. No more cold, dark days! Time to get back outside and enjoy God's green, thriving, awakening creation!
I used to think of February, and even March, as it's too much of a tease, as being the bleakest time of year.
But here? I'm just too darned hot most of the rest of the year. Especially, what, May through (insert month that seems to occur increasingly later in the year -- September, say?).
I enjoyed the cold this winter. It felt like some sort of interesting blanket about me as I walked down 14th street to work each morning. Cold and alive and stimulating.
Also, I seem to equate 'cold air' with 'clean air'. Germs can't live in cold air, right? Cold air seems to smell fresh and clean. In summertime, D.C. smells (and feels) like one giant armpit.
I think what alarms me somewhat as I come to enjoy winter, and dread summer, more each year is the possibility that this is a sign of age. Is it? Does this mean I'm getting old, as surely as do the gray hairs and longer list of things my digestive system won't tolerate?
If so -- eh. So be it. Right? I can't change it, so I should embrace it. (right???)
And, granted, this winter was quite mild. We had, what ONE snow day? Yes, I'm wishing doom upon myself by saying this less than halfway through February. You can all praise (if you're a student or a teacher)/blame (if you're anyone else) me for the three-day snowstorm we'll surely have late next week.
It surely feels about time to move to a colder, less humid place. Hm ... I bet there are places in Washington state that might fit that bill ... ;)

one way in which Lizzy is utterly unlike me

2009-02-10T15:10:00.003-05:00

My dear little Lizzy, who suddenly seems to be on fast-forward en route to growing up, decided last night that I should set her alarm clock for "whenever she needs to get up tomorrow morning."
Yes, she has an alarm clock, but it's a Hello Kitty clock she's had for years -- basically so we can tell what time it is when we're in her room. We've certainly never used the alarm function before.
Since wake-up time for her is a) whenever she wakes up, or b) 10 minutes before Matt and I are ready to scoot out the door, it's hard to pin down an exact time.
When I realized I was running late this morning, I actually sneaked into her room to set it back 10 minutes. So I suppose, yeah, she does have a snooze button just like Mommy!
Maybe we're not so unlike after all.

Pop-Pop, these are for you

2009-02-09T14:35:00.006-05:00

I think just about anyone else I know is on Facebook, or (in one friend's case) I e-mailed these photos to directly. So, for our family contingent in the Philippines, a couple of cute photos from last week's snow day!

definitely my kid

2009-02-09T13:37:00.002-05:00

Last night, as Lizzy and I attempted to make our week to come a little saner by doing her class valentines in advance, she was asking me how to spell a teacher's name. (she wants to give her extra valentines to her art teacher, P.E. teacher, etc.) She pronounced the name "Ms. Deh-vall," so, not knowing the teacher from Eve, I spelled "Duvall". Perhaps it was the semi-late hour, but I had learned by that time in the process that questions only make her anxious. Pretending to know as fact was the only way to proceed. The poor girl had really freaked out earlier over our not remembering how to spell "Ms. Britney" (Britany? Brittany? Britnee?), a woman who works at her day care. Darned if I can remember the Christmas list that the day care ladies helpfully (and hopefully) set out in December.
My little girl definitely takes pride in spelling things correctly. And I, probably foolishly, take pride in her doing so, as well. I wonder where the "anal" gene is located on the chromosome ...
Yeah, so her teacher has about six assignments due this week, if you count valentines. Thanks a heap, I say! We're even supposed to make a creative box for the valentines to be deposited by Friday. Hasn't that always been the purview of the school? A little class art project? A coworker reminds me that the schools are too busy these days teaching to their tests. Oh, goody. So we get to 'teach' everything else in all our spare time at home.
Matt's been (legitimately) consumed with a music project for the past two weekends, and I'm coming apart a bit, trying to be single mom person. Knowing full well that there are millions (probably) of moms out there who do it all the time, either for lack of spouse, spouse serving in military, spouse with off-hours job, or whatever the reason. And, oh yeah, all the undersung stay-at-home types! All I know is, it's darned tricky, simultaneously catering to the needs of an infant and a 6-year-old. And those bins of clothes that I washed two and three weeks ago, but haven't had time to fold and put away, are making me about cry.
Matt had a birthday on Friday. I got him: A card, and two candles that he requested from Target. Which doesn't even count. I feel pretty bad about that. No cake, or anything! Unfortunately, more of the same is in store for Valentine's Day. At least he has no expectations. Nor do I. We can sit down together and romantically write mortgage payments and checks to the day care, if we want to remember why we don't spend money on each other. :)
Lizzy has had her moments, but I don't know if it's ever been worse than this Saturday night. She just LOST it with me. I strongly suspect a late night the night before had a hand in her behavior; regardless, she was particularly vile. I got my first "I hate you," and lots of slamming doors, screeching and nonstop interrupting when I attempted to say anything at all. She was a mess. I admit, I lost it a bit myself, and we were both out-and-out screaming at each other somewhat. I don't remember doing that with my mom. I don't remember thinking I would live to see another minute if I were to do that with my mom. Maybe my parents are right; maybe we've allowed Lizzy to make too many decisions in her short life. She really seems to think she's in charge a lot of the time. Huh? No, I don't THINK so. We allow you certain input. That doesn't make you a co-parent of yourself, or your sister. Ah -- those battles are mostly to come!
And then, almost in the next breath, Lizzy will be so genuinely sweet, helpful and loving ... I just don't know. Don't know what to do with all of that.
It's interesting to me that Maddie remains impassive through these exchanges. Tension among family members seems to bother her not at all. I recall a baby and wee child Lizzy being rather freaked out when her parents argued. (though perhaps she was older than six months; I don't recall.) For Maddie, apparently, it's all good.
I need to convince Matt to hang around the house more, so his girls don't tear each other apart one day.
Maddie continues to wake me up pretty much hourly overnight. I just don't understand it. Where did my good little sleeper go ... at this point, I would kill for the old three-hour sleep intervals. Heck -- two hours! Two consecutive hours of sleep! Sounds way better than it used to.
The notion that this will not go on forever sustains me. Until then, I remain mostly incoherent, most of the time.
Thank God for strong coffee. And thank God I'm in an industry in which a mistake will not kill anyone. Except those of us who die a thousand small deaths when we see mistakes in print. But, with the way the industry is going -- editors being let go, copy editing being outsourced to India, for goodness' sake -- we might as well get used to it.
I'm looking at my nails -- they're all scraggly and uneven. My hair is a fright. My clothes are unironed -- well, okay, that's always the case. I feel like hanging a sign around my neck that says "Don't judge me -- my kid won't let me sleep."
Ahhhh, Monday.

okay, I'm not THIS bad.

2009-02-03T11:42:00.002-05:00

Avoid Krispy Kreme because of the Ks? Wow. That's just not enough reason for deprivation. Even for the likes of me.
I haven't even read most of this story, but it's already something I have to share. Enjoy, o wordsmiths among us!

Christmas girls

2009-01-07T22:06:00.008-05:00

As expected, we enjoyed some serious cuteness on the premises 'round Christmastime. Here's the proof!

No, that's not how we spell it, but that's all Grandma Williams could fit on the stocking! (we decided collectively that 'Mad' on one side and 'Die' on the other would be in poor taste.)

new year

2009-01-07T16:44:00.003-05:00

That title should lead to some sort of introspective, at least passably interesting post, but I'm sorry to disappoint. I'm more just checking in.
It's not like I've been busy, just without any spare time -- at work or home. Last week, I was home from Tuesday afternoon through Friday with a sick Maddie. That didn't help. So I had to return to work Monday and try to get a week's worth of stuff done in two days. I made a couple of mistakes -- who's surprised? But the edition appears to be getting out today, so that's what counts.
Since Maddie's been better, she's continued the extreme neediness that marked her days of sickness. (she had a not-so-high fever, and was generally not herself. Nothing extreme, though.) Over the weekend, she woke every HOUR to feed and/or be settled back to sleep. I joke not. The past two nights, it's been "only" every two hours, and I can really feel the difference. I'm functional again. Crazy that waking every two hours would seem like relief.
I've decided that her mania is because she needs solid foods. She's having to resort to desperate measures to "feed the chubs," as I say. My, this child is a solid little chunk! I look around at 7-month-olds I know, and they look small and scrawny by comparison.
I'm eager, yet a little afraid, to embark upon solid foods because last time it seemed like Lizzy's day care really led the charge. This time, the day care Maddie's at seems to be hanging back, waiting for me to take the lead. (Go figure, as I AM the parent ...) But again, life feels a little too crazy to be trying ANYTHING new. Yet try we must, this weekend ... a kid who won't take formula has got to be nourished somehow. And the exclusive Mommy days are severely numbered, for the good of all.
I hope to post a few Christmas photos here soon. As soon as I get a moment to myself at home ... Maddie won't even go to sleep by herself these days. She seems to have a deadly accurate sense of whether someone is right there beside her or not, even in her sleep. Can you say spoiled ...

More attempts at holiday merriment

2008-12-19T13:45:00.002-05:00

On several recent occasions, we've taken a break from the usual Connect Four evening action to wonder if there might be a visual holiday treat on television. And usually, there is! We've seen some Santa, some Rudolph, some Charlie Brown, some Frosty the Snowman -- even some Muppets. We have several of these on DVD; I have no idea why it's a thrill to see that they're in the TV listings and make a plan to watch them then instead of just getting out the DVD. A throwback to childhood, when we didn't have a choice? Who knows, but I've heard we're not alone in that foible.

One night, there wasn't a holiday show per se, but some station was showing Home Alone. Which kinda counts. It's Christmastime in the movie, after all. And Macaulay Culkin used to seem festive, before he grew up and got married at age 17 and drove drunk and did drugs or whatever the heck it was that he's done.

I thought Lizzy would get a kick out of the movie, which (for those who haven't seen it) breaks down into Culkin looking cute, doing impossibly grown-up things when his family, who thinks he's a little kid and therefore worthless, fly to Paris and leave him all alone in their cavernous, though tackily wallpapered, home; and the leadup to the big shebang -- Culkin setting all sorts of traps to foil the attempts of two bungling burglars from invading his home. Oops! Did I give anything away there? Sorry for the potential spoiler. The clever-little-kid schtick is a lot more annoying than I remembered, that's for sure.

Of course, the burglars are stupid, and of course they fall for every trap, exactly as planned. But as this latter part of the movie unfolded, Lizzy began to get visibly uncomfortable. Then she said she wanted to stop watching the movie.

Matt and I asked her, why? What is it about this that's bothering you? It's okay! They won't hurt the little boy! He's taking care of himself just fine, and after all, it IS just a movie!

But that wasn't it. She felt really bad seeing the burglars getting repeatedly and rather nastily injured. Burns, falls, sharp broken ornaments on their bare feet -- they were having quite a time of it. And she didn't like to see it.

Matt and I were kind of touched. You just never know how a kid will take something. Poor Lizzy is as sensitive to weirdness in movies as I was at that age, I'm a little sorry -- yet glad -- to say. Sorry, because it means we have to be on our toes, and deal with nightmares, etc. Lizzy talked herself into my bed that night because "what if she has a nightmare?" Yet I'm glad because it means she's thinking of others, at least sometimes.

let the time stamp show ...

2008-12-19T05:06:00.004-05:00

I keep waking in the night to remember little bits of things I want to blog about, but then I don't have time at work. Yes, as I've said, these aren't vital things, but what's a blog for, if not for near-daily non-vital things?
I often, as virtually all moms of infants do, find myself doing tiny ridiculous -- and in my mind, heroic -- things for my baby. For instance, here I am, awake at 5 a.m., when I don't HAVE to be awake until about 6:15. And, well, yes, you have an excellent point there -- Maddie is not, by any stretch, requiring me to blog. However, she IS requiring me to pump just a couple more ounces of milk at odd times. I could let her go a little hungry, of course. "You won't take a bit of formula? FINE! STARVE 'til I get there, kid!", and sometimes it inadvertently turns out that way. But, when she wakes to eat at 5 a.m. and then falls back into a blissful, sated slumber and there's, uh, one side left to go, what's a mom to do but get up, extract a pump from the sterilizer, and pump out the rest for later that day?
The point of this blog post is not meant to be how wonderful I am, but more that I feel a need to have someone SAY how wonderful I am. (no, relax; not you.) I am compelled to relate my heroics to Matt. Not all the time, but often, in the morning, at some point in our commute, I'll casually let drop -- often as he's proclaiming tiredness, which is mean, because it kind of negates his tiredness, since the implication is that it's not due to quite the selfless sacrifice that mine stems from -- how I rose at 5 a.m. to dutifully pump so that Maddie can have her three full bottles. Matt's a pretty good sport about it -- he's never called out this martyr complex, and, in the manner of good husbands, he attempts to muster up some token supportive response. But why do I need to have this exchange?
Worse yet, why do I see this flaw in myself, yet push past the self-awareness and keep doing it, anyway? I guess that's just how small a person I am.

If it's not clear, although the above is strictly true, I'm relaying it in a more whimsical tone. I'm not compounding my issues by heaping self-pity for my immaturity onto my other sins here.

P(o)C

2008-12-18T22:49:00.002-05:00

My new computer? The one I spent my bonus money on, that I was so excited about?
Appears to be a piece of junk.
THIS is why I never owned a computer. Yes, in college, in the early-to-mid '90s, I used a typewriter. Trust me, it was pretty backward then, as well. But I just didn't trust a 'pooter with my precious midterm papers or whatever. I didn't want a crash the night before an assignment was due.
But life pretty much demands a computer, and now I'm kind of exctited about it. Also, I have a hubby around who's willing to help! He's no computer tech by trade, but he still has a lot better clue about the workings of PCs than do I.
And Macs, too. He bought himself one earlier this year. He's still pretty impressed with it. But, alas, the Apples are out of my reach, in terms of price. And I'm not altogether certain I'm 'hip' enough for one, anyway. I'm just barely hip enough for an iPod. Just b-a-r-e-l-y.
So my Dell arrived last week. I've been on Matt to hook it up, so that I could compose my already-late Christmas letter on the thing.
He did. I composed it. But sans printer or internet. These things, you see, don't seem to work.
And tech help is a joke. They, clearly, are trained in the art of misdirection, delay, transfer and blame deflection. It's a technical problem! Not a hardware problem! Hooey.
I don't know whether to exchange or return, at this point. I'm so frustrated. But I have no guarantee that any other (affordable) system would be better.
What to do? Except cry a little. :(

myth preservation

2008-12-17T16:36:00.003-05:00

Last Sunday evening, we rolled out to embark on one of our northern Virginia Christmas traditions: The Festival of Lights. The park service throws up a bunch of lights that cars can drive through. It's kind of neat. Not sure if it's twenty dollars' (and, at times, a long wait in line) worth of neat every year, but tradition's tradition, right?
Or, as Zoe of Baby Blues would say: Maybe tradition is French for boredom.
Regardless ...

We had the Christmas tunes a'crankin', OF COURSE, and as a particular one started up, Matt said to Lizzy: "Oh! Listen to this one! It's pretty funny. You'd probably like it."
I groaned, recognizing the early strains of the song.
So Matt turns it up, just in time to hear, "You may say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandma, we believe."
"Huh?" says Lizzy. Or something like it. And, "What's wrong, Mom? You don't like the song?" as I groaned some more.
"Uhh, never mind," said Matt, as we skipped on to the next song.

So, you ask. When DO we tell Lizzy "the truth"? Uh, ummm, errrrr, I don't know. But not this year, I guess.

Fiiiiiiive goooooolden mooooonths ...

2008-12-17T16:30:00.003-05:00

The wee chubster is five months old today! How CAN this be possible ...
I'm thinking of my little darling more today even than usual. Trying not to stew too much in my sense of the unfairness that someone else gets to hang out with her all day. And then we arrive home in the evening, for the cluster feeds and fussy pre-bedtime.
Oh, but the weekends are sweet.

Yes -- I need to take some sort of photo to accompany this mini-post. But the days have been sliding out from under me even worse than usual for the past few weeks. I've finally composed my Christmas letter (biggest challenge -- containing it to one page), but have yet to, you know, make sure it fits on the printed paper of choice; print it out; address envelopes; mail them. So a lot of folks will be getting theirs late. I have absolutely no confidence that I have many friends' current addresses, either. Did I update them when I received last year's Christmas cards? Or when I received e-mails, letting me know of such changes? Unlikely. How shortsighted of me.
If you'd like to guarantee that you receive such a missive, please comment or (safer, I suppose) e-mail me your address. I'd be happy to spread the love. :)

hunger striker

2008-12-11T12:22:00.002-05:00

I keep hearing about how we're all doing our part to get through uncertain economic times these days -- talking to our kids about how they'll get merely a half dozen unnecessary gifts for Christmas this year instead of the usual 20; that sort of thing.
Maddie appears to be doing her part. Granted, her biggest expense is diapers, but I can't blame the kid; not much she can do about that. A baby's gotta 'doo' what a baby's gotta do, right?
Yesterday, I left only two bottles of expressed milk at the day care. She takes three feedings each day there, but some days I've only got two bottles to give. Production varies, and not according to anything that I can really figure out. Some days, there's just less than others, for whatever reason.
So on those days, the ladies make a bottle of formula for that third feeding.
Last time it happened, last week, she refused it at first, then drank it an hour later, then waited to vomit it all over herself and her chair until just after I'd shown up to collect her -- two hours later!
Yesterday, she flatly refused it entirely. She was peacefully asleep when I showed up, and the ladies told me she hadn't eaten since 1. (it was then about 6:15.)
Sheesh. Stubborn little thing. But I guess I'll save some money on formula this way.

She's been sleeping much more erratically for the past week or so. I suspect it's weather-related, somehow. She seems a lot more congested, and wakes up more, and the only thing she seems to want is to be suckled a little bit before passing out again. It gets really annoying for me when it happens every hour and a half or so. Makes me long for the 'good ol' days' of the every-three-hour feed.
People ask occasionally if she's sleeping through the night yet. To which I reply with a hearty laugh, an eye roll, and a "don't I wish."

The Dark Knight effect

2008-12-11T12:05:00.003-05:00

So Lizzy tells us this morning, very matter-of-factly, as we pull into the day care that also serves as her before-and-after school care, that a girl (her age, as it turns out) told her yesterday that if she didn't get up from the chair Lizzy had just sat down in, she was going to "stab her in the eye with a pencil." Hmmmm. A familiar scene, for anyone who has seen summer's charming blockbuster.
We asked what happened next, etc., etc., and Lizzy says she ignored the girl, who kept bugging her, so she told a teacher about it, who told Lizzy to "tell the girl to chill out." Lovely proactive intervention on his part. And it sounds like the girl didn't chill out. Lizzy says she eventually moved off to somewhere else to avoid the girl.
It's hard to know what actually happened in these instances -- was Lizzy more at fault than she told us, or even than she realized? -- but regardless, Matt and I were pretty horrified by the ghastly quality of the girl's threat. It's one thing to threaten someone; it's quite another to do so in such a graphic manner.
There's a reason we don't watch PG-13 movies with our kid, especially ones that should have been rated R in the first place. If only more parents followed suit. Granted, that's quite judgmental of me. But ... gimme a break with this. Perhaps at least have a conversation with your kid about how a deranged, amoral killer is not a good role model?

Thanksgiving sillies

2008-11-29T22:26:00.008-05:00

We spent Thanksgiving evening at Matt's aunt and uncle's house in Burke, Va. Which is what we usually do, but this year, Matt's dad wasn't there -- he moved to the Philippines about four months ago. Here's some of what he missed!

Matt bought some pilgrim and Thanksgiving-related hats a couple of weeks ago because some friends of his had a "Halloween party" two weekends after Halloween, and Matt wanted to jokingly rub in their faces that this was rather silly. So most of the people at the party wore Thanksgiving-related garb.

He couldn't resist bringing some of the headgear to Thanksgiving. Here are a couple of girls who are willing (or too young to know better, or both) to model it for you!

Our first models are known as 'Lil' Hiawatha' and 'Big Hiawatha.'

Next down the runway is 'Girl Who Wears Two Hats.'

This child was at first unwilling to sign release forms to be photographed with a Pilgrim, but she finally agreed. Paparazzi can be so relentless!

Last, but certainly not least, wild turkeys!

Lizzy killed all comers at Connect Four, by the way. She is one 6-year-old who can bring the PAIN!!!

where'd all my time go?

2008-11-25T13:52:00.006-05:00

My husband, of all people, introduced me to Facebook last Friday, and there's been no looking back. (he's already regretting it.) The blog has taken a hit as a result. It's probably the one thing (well, aside from IMing, I suppose) that makes blogging look like it's too slow at updating me on friends' lives. On Facebook, it's all just too easy. And when I say too easy, I mean TOO EASY.

But Facebook, like other sites of its kind, won't allow people to surf around and check out folks' pages unless the folks say it's okay, and everyone's signed into Facebook and got a page of his/her own. So its usefulness is limited.

So now I've got friends on Facebook who don't visit the blog; friends and family who see the blog, but aren't members of Facebook, so don't see that; and those unfortunate souls who are confronted with both. Let the overlap begin!

In that spirit, here are some photos, which folks on Facebook could see yesterday, taken from this past weekend's church retreat. (disclaimer: Lizzy, Maddie and I were only there for about five hours because Lizzy was puking her guts out for most of Friday night. I do not exaggerate.)

The low point, Facebook-wise, came when Matt was in the basement, on the computer, and I, who had told him I was going to bed, decided after brushing my teeth to check the computer on the midlevel of the house 'one last time.' So he learned of my 'status' through an e-mail automatically sent to him that I was on the computer. We know we're not the first this has happened to, but it does seem distinctly sad when you learn of your spouse's whereabouts and activities, WHILE IN THE SAME HOUSE, through the computer.

Yes, dear. We now ARE those people.

(to my friend Lisa: Yes, this is the adorable outfit you bought Maddie! I LOVE IT. I am sad that, in a month or so, it will likely no longer fit.) :(

mom of the year

2008-11-21T13:36:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting at my desk at work. I just received a phone call -- on the cell phone, no less, which I hadn't turned down the ringer on because I rarely receive calls anyway -- from Lizzy's school.
At least they weren't checking her for lice this time around. No -- this time, she's in the office, crying.

Why, you ask? Lizzy loves first grade! What happened?

Well, the parents were invited to some sort of luncheon today. Some special thing. And Lizzy's parents aren't there.

It seems she thought we were coming, despite the 10-minute conversation we had last week about how we were NOT coming. And everyone else has at least one parent there, naturally (according to Lizzy).

"Please come!" she sniffles into the phone. "I want you to come!"
I explain that, even if I left now, I wouldn't be able to make it before the luncheon ended.
"Yes you can!" she sobs urgently. "Just try!"

You have no idea, gentle readers, how hard I worked to carve out time for each and every stunt of this nature that her day care pulled over the years. I NEVER wanted my kid to be "that kid" -- the one looking mournful in a corner whilst the other kiddies proudly pulled their parents around the room at this or that holiday party. I always felt for that kid. To make matters worse, these parties -- which were, at least, scheduled toward the END of the day, not the EXACT MIDDLE -- tended to end earlier than the kids were normally picked up, so all the kids would go home early. Except that kid.

So, right now, as I type, Lizzy is 30 miles away, crying at school because I'm not there for her special occasion.

I could, and perhaps should, take this opportunity to rant about why the schools feel the need to do this. They require plenty of our time -- parent/teacher conferences at times convenient to THEM; early dismissals before holidays that are padded before and behind with days off; teacher workdays; snow days; etc. Whatever "vacation" I receive at work must go toward covering these, plus days that my children are sick. And I can't just plan an actual vacation around times when Lizzy's off of school, because only one of us in my department is allowed to take vaca at any one time. So, Thanksgiving? Christmas? Spring break? Taken, taken, taken.

I know I should be there for her more. And for Maddie. I love my job, but hate that we have to maintain two full-time gigs to have any hope of keeping this ship afloat. Don't you think I would do it differently, if I at all could?

So now I sit here at my desk, feeling like total crap. And, as Matt points out, this will go down in Lizzy's memory banks as a significant time that her parents WERE NOT there for her. She'll be traumatized, and vow not to do this to her children.

It really just doesn't feel fair.

growing girl

2008-11-19T11:10:00.003-05:00

Lizzy and I took Maddie to the doc on Monday afternoon for her 4-month-old checkup. Lizzy wanted to come to see 'how loud Maddie will scream' when she got her shots. Sounds a little sick to me, but, okay. (she has a half day of school on Mondays, so it was that, or hang out at the after-care place.)

Maddie's such a trooper. She weighs 15 pounds, 5 oz. now, which is around the 80th percentile for babies her age, and her length (forget how much -- 24 inches and some, maybe?) is around the 60th percentile. Her little thighs are so chunky, even the nurse commented on them. ("A nurse's dream!" since that's where they give the shots.) Maddie's such a little sweetheart, too. She does her screaming thing for about 10 seconds, then quiets right down. Does the same for each shot. But then she's pretty okay afterward. Such a lovely child.

After the shots -- Lizzy said she wouldn't like to see that again, thanks. She's quite desperately afraid of needles, but then again, perhaps every kid is -- the nurse said, "Hm, Madeline M----l. My daughter dated a Matt M----l when she was a teenager." I said, "oh-ho-ho REALLY! What's her name??" I must have looked a little too eager to hear about it, because the nurse asked me a series of questions first to ascertain whether it was likely to be the same Matt M. Yep -- same high school, same grad year. So she told me about how her daughter -- whose name I'm pretty sure my husband has never mentioned -- was doing these days, and what she was up to.
Naturally, as soon as I got home, I quizzed Matt about this. "I never dated her!" he says. "I WISH I had dated her! I had a crush on her in middle school! She was SMOKIN' HOT. -- still is, last I saw her!" Okay, okay. That's enough now, mister.

Lizzy's latest craze is playing Connect 4. There's a guy named Mike (a grown-up) at her before and after care center who plays it with her a lot, so we bought a game for our home, and we play her a lot there. It's a great mix of not mind-numbing (think Candyland, or something similar), and something that, quite honestly, Lizzy wins as often as Matt or I do. We're perhaps not trying SUPER hard, but we're certainly not 'letting' her win, either! She's quite the smart one. The game purports to be for ages 7 and up, and she's just turned 6. What can we say -- we simply have a couple of smart, beautiful girls. :) We wouldn't trade 'em, that's for sure.

it's a mystery

2008-11-13T13:12:00.002-05:00

Does anyone watch Monk? It's my new favorite show.

I tried it years ago -- as many as five or six years ago -- and didn't like it much. Thought it was kind of cheesy. But now I love it, and am trying to catch every episode. (I think they're up to 102 at this point.) Isn't that funny, how you can think, "eh," about something one time, then adore it sometime later? I've got 'em stacked 14 deep on my DVR. I'd do an all-day marathon viewing session some Saturday, but I suspect my family would object.

I realized the other day that my three favorite shows are murder mysteries. What is it about a murder mystery that's so compelling? Isn't murder a pretty terrible thing? Does it make the mystery that much better, that the stakes are that high? Or, in our fictional worlds, do we need high stakes to make the solving of the crime mandatory? Murder mysteries in books are fun, as well. That's something I've just never understood.

One of the really great aspects about Monk is its PG-ratedness. It's not something I'd watch with Lizzy around, just because of the murder/criminal aspect, but nor would I worry about her walking in to see something really gory, or to hear an inappropriate word, etc. My other shows (House, Bones and e.r.), now -- totally different story. In fact, over the past couple of weeks, House and Bones have gone the 'two women graphically making out' route. Whatup with that? Is that what we trot out for sweeps week these days? Sheesh. I was really not impressed. I don't even so much object to the lesbian/bisexual plotline as I do to the graphic visual. It feels like someone's trying desperately to capture the '15-year-old boy' demographic. Gimme a break.

Another thing Monk does, that many TV shows do, but Monk's been doing it for seven years, is get a lot of famous guest stars. Not of the Jolie-Pitt caliber, but lots and lots of sidekicks and character actors. Which is fun. And there's a lot of pathos, and story arcs that are picked up again and again. I really like that in a show.

Monk himself is a funny combo of lovable, and utterly annoying. Tony Shalhoub does a great job with him. And I'm juuuust OCD enough to be made uncomfortable by a few of his phobias -- that I sort of share them, too, that is.

Lizzy

2008-11-10T16:37:00.003-05:00

I just read this, from babycenter.com. I've never really heard anyone put it like this:

It's sometimes said that a mom is the center of a 5-year-old's universe, but at 6 she gets pushed aside. At 6, the 6-year-old himself is the center of his universe. You're still apt to get your share of hugs and heart-strewn handmade cards, but don't feel too hurt if this blatant love shifts from boil to simmer.

When I got pregnant with Maddie, and counted forward to see what we'd be in the middle of when she was born, I'm not sure I fully realized all the changes that Lizzy was to go through all at once. It's hard now to separate what's due to starting a new school, and a new grade, and lots of responsibilities (most everything, I suspect), what's simply due to being a little older (some), and what's due to changes within the family as she adjusts to being an older sister, and not the only kid in town (yeah, some, to be certain).

I feel so much less patient with her these days. So easily frustrated. So desirous of her obedience -- wouldn't life be better if she would just DO WHAT WE TELL HER TO?!
She's a great helper, and she does seem to understand and accept most of the changes that come with being a big sis. But she seems to test us AT EVERY STEP. I just don't know why. I'm sure I did the same. It's funny, though -- I remember pulling some of the junk she pulls, when I was young, and yet it seems like my parents had things much better in hand. Did they? Or am I remembering later years? Or am I not remembering it accurately at all? Hard to know.
Then again, my mom stayed home with us -- our lives weren't all one constant rush to the next activity. Ugh, I hate that. I've fallen into a pattern of skipping activities here and there over the past few weekends, rather than making one more push to get to the next thing. It just gets to be too much. And we're not doing that much! I guess the birthday/Halloween parties add up after a certain point.

Lizzy's REALLY been into High School Musical lately. We still haven't seen the third installment -- currently in theaters; we're possibly going with friends, so the mother and I can commiserate as our daughters fanatically soak it all in -- but Lizzy asks to see some of either 1 or 2 just about every night.

Last night, I thought, okay. You want to see a musical? I'll show you a MUSICAL! We popped in The Sound of Music. It's in my genetic heritage to love musicals. My dad, for whatever reason -- when I asked him recently, he couldn't think of an answer -- adores musicals. Certain ones particularly, of course. He sounded shocked this summer when I said I hadn't been to see Mamma Mia!, the movie based on ABBA hits. And I love ABBA! There's just something about having a tiny baby that interferes with carefree outings such as those.

At one stretch, I had to go upstairs to try to get Maddie down to bed. Lizzy watched by herself, and I told her I'd answer any questions when I got back. (there are always questions!)
She was puzzled by the "I am 16 ..." song. 'Was the girl (Liesl) trying to get the boy (Rolf) to kiss her?' she said. 'Uh, well, not really,' I said, then launched into a halfhearted attempt to explain flirting. 'And then they kissed at the end of the song!' says Lizzy. 'But they shouldn't have, right? Were they supposed to?' I said, 'Well, I think she's trying to keep it secret from her dad, so I guess not.' 'Yeah, and if she kisses a boy, she'll have to tell the boy she marries later that she kissed someone else,' says Lizzy, and expounds on this theme for a few more minutes.
Me: "Uhhh."
I liked the moral certainty there. We'll see how long she sticks to it. I'll certainly have to remind her of that mentality when she's prime boy-kissing age. Which is, what, these days? 9? 10??

(sounds of Kate weeping openly at her desk)

camera envy

2008-11-07T10:27:00.004-05:00

I get this funny sense of paranoia whenever I'm going to say anything about Lizzy these days that's a secret (from her) -- as if she might read the blog. Ha! Although, I suppose that day will be upon us at some point ...

I bought her a camera yesterday. Actually, her Pop-Pop (Matt's dad) and my parents bought it. Or the money they sent for her birthday bought it.
Anyway, she's getting a camera for her birthday, which is today, and it's pretty sweet. Yeah, I probably could've bought it cheaper elsewhere, had I done some research, etc., but I'd talked to a guy from Ritz Camera about this awhile back -- I took in Lizzy's 'kid digital camera' to download the photos, and whoa, you can barely get a decent 4-by-6 with the resolution that thing doesn't have -- and he recommended that, next time, I purchase a 'grown-up' camera, and get a replacement policy for it. If she drops it, I can get a new one. Of course, if she loses it, I'm outta luck.

So, this time, that's what I got. She's been borrowing my camera lately, and it makes me nervous. She can have her own to destroy.

Problem is, since mine is umpteen years old (in reality, probably about 4), hers is nicer! Has a way better view screen, anyway, and 8 megapixels. Eight! I don't even know what mine has but it's something pathetic, like 2 or 4. Bah!

It's gonna cause me a little pain, along with the pride, to see her whipping out this sharp, compact camera that kicks the backside of my bit of old technology. Except for my killer zoom. A large part of what I was going for with my point-and-shoot purchase.

You can bet that, if she opens it tonight and isn't exploding with joy, I'm taking it right back. Darnit.
Perhaps it's Mommy's turn to borrow Lizzy's camera now and then ...

Added bonus! She'll be taking twenty thousand photos of Maddie. (The poor baby's going to go blind.) If any of them turn out well, I can fold them into the Baby Pics collection.

The one wrinkle in my plan is in how to limit the number of photos she wants me to develop. Set a limit over a certain period of time? Make her pay out of her own money? (that's the source of another blog entry, probably.)

Suggestions welcome. :)

this 'n' that

2008-11-05T16:38:00.004-05:00

I keep composing blog entries in my head, but never getting (or taking?) the opportunity to type them out. Your loss, people! Real award-winning material here. (yeah, right.)

I have to confess, I am so, so happy that the election is over. Not necessarily about the outcome. Then again, I wasn't a feverish devotee of anyone -- I never am -- and that, I think, is what made me so very VERY sick of this particular campaign. Because, you see, there was a RIGHT and a WRONG candidate. Even more so than usual! Of this, many, many loud people were absolutely certain. And you were an IDIOT if you did not see it THEIR WAY. This certainty gave them the right -- nay, the moral imperative! -- to flood my mailbox, and doorknob, with all manner of literature. (in fairness, both sides, in all races, did this. Profusely.) I just hope none of them were touting their care of the environment, because none of that stuff ever even made it into the house. Straight to the circular file in our driveway. And two or three groups of people (from the same side) visited our home. It was apparently the thing to do if you can't be satisfied with contributing just your one vote. You had to go out and "make a difference." Apparently, that's code for "bothering people in their homes." But I will say, it paid off for said busybodies. Their guy won Virginia, and not by a lot.
So, as I always do, I have quite mixed feelings about this outcome. Extreme relief that it's over, and strong curiosity about where it will all lead. I'm pretty sure it's not a politically paved road to the Promised Land, but I realize I'm in the minority by thinking that.

I had a scare this morning -- the nurse from Lizzy's school called me. I kind of outed Lizzy yesterday when I was at school for her parent/teacher conference. (which didn't inform me of a whole lot; it kind of reeked of 'obligatory meeting'.) I had a few extra minutes beforehand, so I popped into the front office to inquire about what to do if my kid had lice. BAH! Why do I do these things ... a lady chased me down the hall to ask who my daughter was, and I wouldn't tell her, and still, they somehow knew and plucked Lizzy out of class this morning to pick over her scalp. Miraculously, they found only one dead louse. So they packed her back off to class. Woo! Victory is OURS! We did a lice treatment on Sunday, but I didn't think it had worked, because Lizzy was still scratching Monday and Tuesday. I spent some time last night and this morning going through her hair for nits. Guess I got 'em all. Or else the nurse didn't look hard enough. Either way, YESSSSSSSSSSSS.

Yesterday was unfortunate in another way (and I don't mean the election) -- one of my nightmares came true, and I forgot to take my breast pump to work. I'm not sure I can adequately 'express' (HA! breastfeeding humor!) the horrors of that situation. Let's just say, I worked only a half day, then got home, and pumped 9 1/2 oz. I'll also say this -- ouch.

In other postpartum fun, my hair's been falling out for about a month now. I find it everywhere. I've fished it out of poor Maddie's diaper a few times -- nothing like, er, flossing your newborn -- and she keeps grabbing it and getting it wrapped around her fingers. Naturally, the bathroom is a disaster area, where hair is concerned. I've always been weird about hair; once it leaves its home on the body, it freaks me out. I'd rather see dirt on the floor or counter than hair. Don't know what that's about. So it's pretty yukky. I spend half my time in the shower just running my hands through my hair and collecting giant clumps.

Thanks for reading this far. You are indeed brave souls.

In a moment of extreme insanity, I signed Lizzy up for Monday/Wednesday night swim lessons. I was in a panic to get her into this class by the time she turned 6, as that was the age recommendation. Poor child is older enough as it is than the other kids. Weird thing is, it's working out great! She looks forward to it, it's a pleasant little evening at the pool, and Maddie's reasonably well behaved, and we get a treat from Wendy's on the way home. Then we swing by the bus stop and pick up Matt, so he's able to stay at work a little late those nights.

Speaking of commuting home -- it's about that time.

I am undeniably geeky sometimes

2008-10-24T16:38:00.002-04:00

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

2008-10-24T16:19:00.003-04:00

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

2008-10-22T16:08:00.002-04:00

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

2008-10-20T16:33:00.004-04:00

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

2008-10-17T14:19:00.003-04:00

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

2008-10-11T06:31:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-06T21:57:00.002-04:00

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

2008-10-01T23:12:00.002-04:00

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.

baby bigger

2008-09-25T14:07:00.003-04:00

I've begun to accept the fact that Madeline is definitely getting bigger.

I was in denial for awhile. I'd ask people who hadn't seen her in a week or two, or even a month, if she seemed to have grown. Inevitably, they would say she had ... sob!
It's not like I want her to have some sort of developmental problem. I just want to keep this baby, well, a baby! I'm having a lot of fun with her. It's new baby territory for me.
Her little noggin especially seems to be growing and firming up. Those soft spots have all disappeared, except for one.

As I've told a couple of people: I want her to stay the same squishy little newborn she was at first until the very moment I hand her over to strangers at the day care a week from Monday morning.
From that time on, I want to think of her as grown up and practically self-sustaining. So my guilt won't be quite so profound.

in two weeks

2008-09-21T22:23:00.005-04:00

... I return to the workday routine. Alas!
It's been a great maternity leave. I was honestly not quite sure if I'd live through another maternity leave. The last one was unbelievably challenging. The sleep deprivation! The colic! The sub-freezing weather and tiny apartment! Not to mention the dramatic adjustments that a baby naturally necessitates. But this time ... it's been a lot different.

A lot of things are the same, but my life is already structured around being focused on kids. It's not like I'm sacrificing that much to 'start over.' And hoo boy, have a lot of things -- all the right things -- been different!

Matt and I joke that Madeline is a made-to-order baby, right down to her greater resemblance to -- and preference for -- her father. Well, perhaps preference is too strong, but she really seems to get a charge out of him. Her face lights up into the most delighted of smiles when he holds her. They really have a connection. He was the first one to figure out that we could 'talk' to her -- she's always been a cooer, and if we coo to her, she smiles big and often coos back. If her tummy is full and she's in a good mood, that is.
But I digress. She's a sleeper -- just like we wanted! She's a great latcher-on and eater, and doesn't spit up much -- just as I hoped for! She's quite healthy, which is of course wonderful. And we thought it would be fun to have a dark-haired flavor this time. Matt's mom keeps declaring that she looks like 'Matt in a dress.' I'm falling short of inflicting that description on her, but there certainly is a strong resemblance! And people are starting to say she looks a lot like Lizzy, too. It's those Maisel eyes.
Anyway ... it's been such a treat, getting to know her. It's going to be so hard to hand her over to someone else for 11 hours a day. ELEVEN HOURS. I don't think we ever left Lizzy for more than nine. Just the way the commute works out -- Maddie's day care will be close to our house, whereas Lizzy's was closer to our jobs -- but it just seems wrong. It's just tough to leave them, period. Don't get me wrong -- I have the highest respect for stay-at-home moms, but I'd quickly go insane if I was one -- but it's just tough nonetheless. You have to do what you have to do, I keep telling myself.
Two more weeks. Just two more weeks ...

Bonus photo -- we allowed Lizzy to decide when we went to the local, but very well-known and well-attended, farm's fall festival. Her school bus passes it twice a day, so she had its 'grand opening' date reinforced often, and thus she wanted to go this weekend. So we did, despite having only two hours on Sunday afternoon to do so. It's been an annual tradition of Matt's and mine since Lizzy was 11 months old -- long before we lived so close to it.

I ran around getting as many photos of the fam as I could with the dying camera battery I'd brought, and only realized at the end of the day that the lens had a huge smudge on it. Whoops.

If you pretend I'm the goat, it's a family photo!

gratitude

2008-09-16T22:20:00.002-04:00

Things I'm particularly grateful for today:

* Running water in our home. Running through the pipes, that is. Particularly our now-functional toilets, and the ability to easily wash my hands in the sink. (imagine doing all those diaper changes, and you can see why hand-washing is a desirable thing for me just now.)

* A husband who is willing -- nay, eager! -- to take a day off work and attempt to install a water heater himself, thus possibly saving us about seven hundred dollars.

* An appliance repair guy who will do house calls that start as late as 8:45 p.m. and run until 11:45 p.m. Even if he was a jerk.

(Matt and his brother did a great job installing the water heater, but the soldering part was just a bit beyond them. No shame in that, methinks. Also, we needed an expert eye on the a/c unit, so it was just as well that the repair guy hit two things at once. It still saved us a few hundred bucks over a repairperson doing the job from the beginning.)

* A husband who really loves me, and who is worthy of loving in return. Even when we might not like each other for a few days now and then.

* Last, but foremost, two precious, darling little girls -- and their bedtimes.

weekend of water

2008-09-14T22:41:00.004-04:00

Yep, we just can't get enough water 'round here.
But first -- what the kidlets were up to. Somewhat water-themed, as well. Sort of.
Lizzy had her first soccer encounter/practice/game on Saturday at 1 p.m. The under-6 crowd has a half hour of drills, then they do a very light scrimmage for a half hour against another team. They'd never met before, and in fact, the coach had an unavoidable conflict and was unable to make it to the event himself. It's low key, is what I'm saying.

Lizzy's team is purple, and was asked to vote on a team name. Front-runners were "purple grapes," "purple dragons," "purple girls" and "purple princesses." Matt and I liked purple dragons, but we weren't allowed to vote. The winner: The purple princesses! Or, princesses for short. You can only imagine how weird it is to cheer on the princesses on a soccer field. As apropos as it might, in fact, be. Just more to tease her about when she's a teen.
She sure looks darn cute in her uniform, though! She and her soccer-loving dad posed for me, as you see.
So, after we'd trudged about 10 minutes up a gravelly path from the parking lot (we had the far field, naturally) in the late-summer heat, Matt and I turn to each other and say, "Hm. Did you bring anything for Lizzy to drink?" Cue the water break ... and we had to tell her that we had nothing for her. We are the world's worst parents! So I tore out to the nearest gas station for drinks. I cannot believe we forgot drinks. My line is, hey -- I can keep track of the needs of one person at a time. That person used to be me. Then it was Lizzy. Now it's Maddie ... yikes.
With about five minutes to go, Lizzy decided she had to use the bathroom. Which was an outhouse near the parking lot. So, we just left. No point in walking there, then walking back. Apparently, she told her dad at that point that she wanted to quit soccer. She didn't like it. She'd changed her mind within about 10 minutes, though. We figured she'd find the actual physical exertion portion of the sport (is there any other?) fairly challenging. She doesn't exactly like to move much. Quite like her mother (at that age), in fact. She told us that she overheard someone saying, "Hey, Lizzy's good!" She was pretty stoked about that.
Matt had her out in the backyard doing games and drill-related activities for at least an hour on Sunday afternoon. She'll be our little star princess yet!

Today, our church had a baptism/dedication service for Maddie and C.J., our almost equally young neighbor. Man -- did we ever get a photo of the two of them together? I don't think we did. Bummer. But the lovely and talented Ms. Stacy got lots of photos of them separately -- I hope to post one or two of Maddie here soon. We borrowed a lovely dress from the Stavs for the occasion. Maddie managed to cry and scream her way through at least half of it (the occasion, not the gown). That was unfortunate. Other than that, though, it was a blessed time. Thanks, church community, for all your support. Easy to say, but it comes from the heart. We love all of you, and we're so, so grateful for you all.
Lizzy also dressed up today, and sang a little song during the service about family as her contribution. Here they are, in their regalia:

What appears to be a huge smile on Maddie's face was exactly that. She's been quite smiley lately! Not for insignificant events such as, say, her baptism, but, you know, when only one or two people are looking. Argh. (and no, it's NOT just gas pains! It's not it's not it's not.)

They say troubles come in threes. We had our second and third basement flooding events this evening. The a/c unit has been leaking for the past, oh, week or two or so. Matt's shoved a bucket under a pipe that's dripping, and emptying the bucket every few days. Except that we emptied it Friday or Saturday, and it was full -- and leaking -- again today. Whoops. So, we called for professional help.
While Matt was down looking at it, the water heater burst and sprayed its contents all over the closet. So we bailed water for an hour or so until the thing ran out. Then we called yet more professionals.
Then Matt decided he and his brother could replace the water heater himself -- and, why not? Fix the a/c unit too. That fun will commence tomorrow. I'm a bit skeptical, but what do I know? I guess if you have to call a plumber, might as well have a go yourself first. Should be entertaining, anyway. Maybe I'll do a pictorial of the proceedings.
I just don't know what's with all the pipes and things going wonky down there recently. And they all waited for the father in law to leave. Lucky him!
In other house-related news, we're having the chimney sweeps over tomorrow to clean and inspect. And we're getting roofer guys to fix the roof where the fool squirrels are getting in. Quite a sizable hole up there, we're told. Four hundred dollars' worth of repairs should do the trick!
Cue my usual rant about home ownership.

shots (heard 'round the world?)

2008-09-11T10:14:00.003-04:00

I'm about to take my sweet little smiling baby in for her eight-week checkup. That means four shots in her chubby thighs. One of the most miserable moments for a parent? At least at the newborn stage, quite possibly. Yet I am a staunch supporter of vaccinations. So it's a necessary evil. Kind of like vegetables and (I believe) spankings. No fun for either party, but a must-do.
What amuses me about it this time around is that Lizzy is quite disappointed that she won't be there to watch. Not 'to support my sister' or something -- to WATCH. She expects me to take her out of school early, or let her stay home the whole day, so she can go!
When I explained that this was quite impossible and would not be happening, she said, "Well, that's okay. You can just take a picture, I guess."
Strange child.
I found out yesterday that Maddie did NOT get put into my insurer's system, as I had carefully ensured would be the case by my many calls to my HR dept. I think we have it all figured out by now, but let's hope I don't get there and get told that I need to pay hundreds out of pocket for these shots. That would certainly make it doubly painful.
The baby's fussing now -- no doubt anticipating great pain to come -- so I must away! I've been offline for about a week. I'm feeling chatty. Maybe I'll jump back on later to discuss my thoughts on such matters as Ruby Tuesday's new ad campaign, and the belts in my closet. You can't wait, I'll bet!

Sissy stuff

2008-09-03T10:31:00.004-04:00

My little helper!

the first day (of the rest of her life)

2008-09-02T13:55:00.005-04:00

Maddie and I packed Lizzy off to first grade this morning. Whoa!

I've been feeling a lot better about this stage of life since we went to her school's open house last Wednesday afternoon. It's simply a tremendous school, and the kids and teachers alike seem really sweet and nice. I'm sure there's devilment in every school, or every area where people come together, but as far as mommies can expect, it's a great place to be.

As you can see, she chose her trademark 'two unmatching patterns' look for her first day. Hey -- why change things up now!

So I'm sitting here hoping that, despite her refusal to eat more than three bites of cereal this morning (at her day care, they provided a breakfasty snack at 10 a.m.), she made it until lunchtime (11:15) before expiring of starvation -- or worse, whining about being hungry! Also, that she managed NOT to scratch her head so much that alarm bells rung in the minds of teachers and school nurses. Yes, parents, feel free to hate me -- we did treat her hair (and bed, etc.) for lice on Saturday night, but she's still scratching. Forget cockroaches -- lice are the REAL survivors of the apocalypse! We plan to treat her again this weekend, as the directions suggest (second treatment a week to 10 days later).

Also, the kids have this seven-digit student code that they're supposed to remember to access their line of credit for lunch. I'm serious. We plugged in some lunch money on the computer last week, and she should be set for a couple of months. So stealing lunch money now, I suppose, consists of swiping someone's number. Which I sincerely hope doesn't happen. It's all so ... so ... so the year 2000 now! Not the days of dinosaurs, as when I was a kid. Man, I drank so much chocolate milk in elementary school, I've been soured on it ever since. Those were the days.

Here she is, getting on the bus. *sniff* My girl's growing up so fast ...

cuteness at the Sears studio

2008-08-29T18:24:00.006-04:00

We went a-studioing today. Here is some of the crazy cuteness that ensued:

Those girls just kill me. They just KILL me. Once they start teaming up against their parents, we will be powerless to resist.

hairy dilemmas

2008-08-29T08:49:00.002-04:00

We've been having lots of drama over the past couple of weeks regarding Lizzy's mane.
The trouble with tresses started when she arrived home from school one day with what looked like totally ratted-out hair. She was asleep, and I assumed that Matt had had the windows down, and then her head slid around on the seat.
We didn't wash her hair that night, and by the time we did, it was in unbelievable condition. I had to keep applying handfuls of conditioner and running my fingers through it again and again, while she screamed "NO! NO!" and Maddie shrieked in the other room (Matt was trying to pacify her while I dealt with Lizzy's hair). If we were still in an apartment, I'm convinced the authorities would have arrived by the end of the shower.
Afterward, I sprayed copious amounts of detangler into her hair and combed it out. Problem solved! Except, it happened again (to a slightly lesser degree) the next day. What on earth?! This has never happened before. What was different?
Parenthood feels like an exercise in problem-solving so much of the time. Often when one's child is too young to verbalize its symptoms, but a good deal after that stage, as well. This time, I realized somehow that, irony of ironies, it was the detangler itself that was the culprit. I'd used this brand before (rhymes with, ahem, Schmanteen) with success, but this batch, for whatever reason, was stickier. But not enough so that I noticed when I applied it. So that junk got tossed.
This week's issue is ... I'm almost afraid to say what I suspect. But Lizzy's been scratching her head vigorously all week, and I'm concerned that it might be *wince* LICE. I haven't heard anyone at school or church say there's an outbreak, so I don't know where it would've come from. And on the eve of first grade. Not great timing.
I've halfheartedly looked through her hair a couple of times, but a) I'm not sure what I'm looking for, besides some kind of little bug, which I haven't found, and b) I kind of don't want to find anything. But the scratching continues. I'm scratching my head a little more these days, as well, possibly psychosomatically.
I'm not entirely sure what to do at this point. I know there are shampoos, and fine-tooth combs, and much washing and bagging of sheets and pillows and mattresses, and I'd soooo like to not bother.
It's odd to me that the baby herself is supplying the least drama around this house these days. (knock on wood) (prayers that it continues to be so)

just when you think you're making it ...

2008-08-26T13:56:00.003-04:00

I've been grateful recently that, in what feels like an incredibly debt-ridden, not-so-wealthy stage of our lives, some expensive things that could go wrong with the house(s) we own, haven't. And then I feel anxious for having thought that, as if I'm going to jinx us. And then I feel as if I lack faith for worrying about 'jinxing us,' and not relying more on God's provision, regardless of circumstances. And then I remind myself that God's not the one who decided to take on some of the debt we have. So why would I pin anything on Him, anyway?

The basement -- which, as most of you probably know, we just 'recovered' from Matt's dad last month -- is one of those things I'm anxious about. It seems like a lot could go wrong with the lowest point of one's house. The homes in our neighborhood, to my knowledge, have either a basement or a crawl space. So it's rather important for that pump to keep workin', because we all know the nightmare of flooding in a home.

It hasn't rained recently, so imagine my surprise when my foot lands with a *squish* on the basement carpet at the bottom of the stairs. Okay, who spilled something??? Must've been water, because I don't see a discoloration on the carpet. But then I looked a little closer, and realized, with a sinking feeling (figuratively), that the moisture was coming from underneath.

That was Sunday -- right before we had guests coming by, no less -- and we still don't know what's up. Matt and his brother have pulled back the carpet and are trying to keep the carpet and pad dry with towels and a dehumidifier, and Matt's planning to tear into the wall tonight or tomorrow in the hope that it's a broken pipe, and not a crack in the foundation. Which, need I say, would be catastrophic? I don't even want to think about the expense/effort/sacrifice that would be required in that instance. As Matt put it, "we wouldn't have a basement any more."

Here's what it looks like in that corner right now:

Here's hoping it turns out to be something relatively minor. And relatively cheap.

Woe is Wii

2008-08-20T12:56:00.003-04:00

Matt procured a Wii Fit for us -- he's been talking about it for probably a couple of months. It's pretty cool, as I've heard. Also, humiliating, as I've also heard.
The clever little balance board takes your weight, and you key in your height and the weight of your clothes, and your age, and it tells you exactly how sad a mass of goo your body is. We had "fun" figuring it out last night. I'm technically obese -- hooray! Right now, my body is about 30 pounds sadder than it has ever been (non-pregnancy-related). And that 30 pounds lighter is no testament to a fit body, either.
I realize that now counts as pregnancy-related, but the fact that I haven't lost any weight since about the first week and a half after I had Maddie is a great concern. What have I been doing? Sitting like a lump in front of the television, but also -- BREASTFEEDING! It just isn't working quite as magically as it did the first time around.
Maddie's protesting that she's been put down for 10 whole minutes, so it's time for me to get over myself and go get her. Ugh. And, well, take a walk, I guess. Darn the brutal Augusts of the D.C. area. :(

another take

2008-08-20T12:50:00.003-04:00

Here's a fresh photo of baby Madeline, upon request, taken just a minute ago:

She seems to be feeling better than she did on Monday, so I'm hoping colic remains merely a paranoia for me.

uh-oh

2008-08-19T14:15:00.010-04:00

(I don't know why this is all underlined, and I can't figure out how to fix it ... sorry.)

Could we be entering ... the colic zone? (cue Twilight Zone music)
My sweet little girl disappeared yesterday, and a tiny screaming monster took her place. Ugh.
I think she was having some tummy troubles. I sure hope they're temporary.
I told Matt and Lizzy about it when they got home, and Lizzy suggested that maybe Maddie was tired of watching the Olympics. Cute, kid. Real cute.
Madeline is also breaking out, as I told Matt, "like Atari in 1977." Yes, and I'm actually pretty proud of that joke. The curse of baby acne. So she looks AND sound miserable.
But, in general, we're doing fine. I just hope and pray that the screaming jags aren't to be a regular thing around here.
And now, if I can get them to work, here are a bunch of more recent photos of the fam.

Lizzy's having fun with Daddy down in his new 'studio' (back corner of the basement). We found a nice futon on Craigslist for the studio, and he's got his new music-making computer down there, and his brother's drum set and his guitars ... it looks quite impressive. Lizzy enjoys laying down some drum beats from time to time.

Daddy love!

Lizzy thought this was cute -- that it looked like Maddie was waving. I think it looks like she's drowning. Big sisters! Hmph.

I've gotta repeat something Lizzy said recently. She said, "I wish I were Maddie." When I asked why, she explained that she's so little and cute. I said, "You were a cute little baby at one point! And you still are cute!" She said, "Well, she's got one thing I didn't have." (what's that?) "A wonderful big sister." I love the lack of modesty. But, she's right!

The two of them sleeping next to each other is, while a mite dangerous, about the cutest thing I've ever seen in this world.

still chuggin' along

2008-08-02T22:00:00.002-04:00

I was reminded yesterday that I haven't blogged since my boast that, basically, it was 'so far, so good.' Yeah, well, things are still good, but that kid loves to snuggle on Mommy's chest! And all the 'guest chests' left town last weekend when my parents' weeklong visit came to an end. I am learning to put her down, but I don't entirely want to, either. We have a good time snuggling, my Maddie and me.

We had a great time while the grandparents were here. As usual, it was really hard for me to see them leave, after they've been such a help and support in that first new-baby week.
Grandpa Williams got us all hooked on the Tour de France, of all things -- we're all suckers for athletic competition on TV of all weird kinds (excluding golf and auto racing, that is, but almost everything else) -- and we went on a few outings. That Sunday -- Maddie was three days old, or four, if you count Thursday (since she was born at 3 a.m., after all), Matt and I took her to see The Dark Knight. I don't know if it was my 'mother of a newborn' mentality, or the fact that I had to leave at, oh, about the time any self-respecting movie would be over, anyway, to change a very poopy diaper, or what, but the movie seemed like one of the LOUDEST I'd ever seen. And, really, too dark. C'mon, now. It's a comic book character, for pete's sake. Must we overdo the psychotic element to quite that degree? But, again, in fairness, I was a bit distracted, and I did miss a few minutes in there somewhere. I've gotta give it a thumbs-down, though. Iron Man still rules this summer, as far as I'm concerned. Maybe I'll give it another try when it comes out on DVD. Then again, maybe not.

Mom, Dad, Maddie and I went to Harper's Ferry on, uh, Wednesday, I think? So she was a week old. Dad's into the Civil War history stuff, so it was fairly enjoyable, though it's far more geared toward the cheesy tourist population than I recalled from my last visit there. Pretty place.

On Friday, we took Lizzy and Maddie to the local air and space museum -- the one at Dulles. Lizzy gave it a "I didn't like it; I LOVED it!" review. Not sure what she loved -- perhaps the ice cream she stole from me at the McDonald's eatery there? or the Astronaut Barbie? -- or maybe it was actually the planes. In any case, cool museum.

I was out and about in Alexandria and D.C. for the day with Maddie this past Tuesday. It feels a little like being a celebrity. Or perhaps accompanying one. This feels especially odd, coming as it does so soon after being heavily pregnant, when I felt like more of a freakish oddity than anything. Now, I've got people coming up to me with adoring looks for the baby, questions about her age or tales of their own offspring, and looks of shock when they hear how young she is. It would seem that some people don't believe in taking their babies out of the house until they're at least three months old. "And how are YOU doing?" they'll often ask. Uh, I'm fine. Except for this infernal D.C. heat. That sucks, but it would do so regardless of my physical condition otherwise. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate it here in the summertime? (I don't care for the winter here, either, but I digress.)

So, oh yeah, the baby. She's doing well. They're so 'not quite human' at this stage, it cracks me up. More like funny little pet mammals of some other species. She'll do this thing when she's trying to convey that she's hungry (besides crying, I mean) where she'll open her mouth really wide and shake her head back and forth really fast. Or, if someone's holding her, she'll head-butt them repeatedly in the chest. She likes her FOOD, darnit! Give it to her NOW!

She's still an 'eating and sleeping and peeing and pooping' champ, except, oddly, late at night. It seems to take her until close to midnight to settle down for another good sleep. She suddenly turns ravenous, and wants to feed repeatedly. I try explaining, with less and less patience, that the breasts will not suddenly swell with milk after having just been drained, no matter how much one attempts to drain them again. I'm about at the point, against the midwife's advice, where I'm considering having formula on hand (haven't given her any yet) so she can have a bottle on these particularly hungry-seeming nights. It just doesn't seem right to try to get her down with an (apparently) empty stomach. But I took her to the doc on Friday, and she's up to nine pounds, so she's gained back what she lost, and then some. Hooray! This breastfeeding thing is actually working this time around. My faith in the human design is (at least partially) restored.

I'm finding it hard to have patience with Lizzy these days -- now there's an unexpected shocker, eh! Yeah, I know. It's so (again, brace yourselves for a revelation) different, having more than one. I just feel like telling Lizzy to go away and leave me in peace a lot of the time, but how fair is that? She deserves some attention, too. Matt decided to stay home from work on Thursday, and I was filled with a wee sense of despair at the idea of my solitude being thus intruded upon. Clearly, I haven't been at this maternity leave thing very long. Shouldn't I love the idea of the rest of my family being around? It's great some days, but on other days, I have to admit, I'm really enjoying the quiet time with my newest daughter.
All in all, she's a pretty cool little mammal.

piccies

2008-07-18T17:19:00.008-04:00

Sorry about the delay. It's been a 'not five minutes of opportunity' kind of day.

We're all doing pretty well. Maddie decided that she wanted to try to feed ALL NIGHT LONG, which will probably be great for prompting milk production quickly, but not so great for Mommy. So I'm hoping (for no good reason) that this upcomnig night won't be the third almost entirely sleepless one in a row. Ugh.
Lizzy would hear her crying in the middle of the night and come downstairs and find us, wherever I had stolen away with the baby so that she wouldn't wake up her big sister. But Big Sister insisted on helping. "I don't mind!" she'd say. "I'm getting some good sleep!"
Come on, milk production -- and bring a sleepy, sated baby with you.

Here are some photos that Stacy the Baby Whisperer (and super photographer, along with her many other skills) took yesterday -- about 12 hours after Maddie was born. Isn't she a little doll!

welcome, baby M

2008-07-17T18:15:00.003-04:00

She's here! She's here! Madeline Claire was born this morning (Thursday) at 3:06 a.m. She weighs 8 pounds, 10 oz, is 21 inches long and has short, dark, likely curly hair. Awww -- just like Daddy! She appears very healthy and responsive, and -- most importantly to Mommy -- appears to be VERY mellow, and LOVES to sleep. I don't quite know what to do with a child like that, but I'm looking forward to finding out. She was made to order! Oh, and she even latches on well. Such a perfect little package.

We're all doing pretty well. Matt's ably filling the role of SuperDaddy, martialling the forces here at home. He's giving Lizzy lots of opportunities to be a special Big Sister helper, and chances to bond with baby sis, not to mention making sure all Mommy's needs are met, and if that weren't enough, he and Uncle Nick are still moving everything all around the house to rearrange, now that we have the basement back. Grandma Connie is helping a ton by amusing Lizzy and generally doting on her granddaughters. Matt's threatening to scrub the place from top to bottom in advance of my parents' visit next week. Which they insist we shouldn't do, of course, but Matt likes to run a clean ship, I guess.

I know I should be sleeping right now, but it's just too weird to take all those naps during the day. Perhaps after another mostly sleepless night, I'll get with the 'sleep when the baby sleeps' program!
I'm feeling okay. I knew what to expect, post-birth, this time, and that helps so much. I've got the 'spayed cat' feel from the stitches, the crampiness from the breastfeeding kicking my uterus back into shape, and the weirdly still-huge gut, but aside from those fairly minor things, all is well.

It's so neat to be a mom (again). It's so wonderful to feel settled in this role, and to know that there is nothing but joy surrounding this situation. To add something wonderful to our family, instead of starting something that we didn't really know what to do with. God is so incredibly kind and merciful. Who could deserve these sort of gifts?

--------------------
(what follows contains a 'too much information' warning, especially for the male types among us)
--------------------

As for the childbirth itself ... apparently, I cannot pop out a kid without the use of castor oil. Okay, it's not SO bad. I took it late enough in the game -- not sure if it was that, or the enema shortly before, that finally kicked my body into gear -- that there wasn't a lot of, well, stuff all over the place when the kid arrived this time. Later yes ... the big difference this time around, aside from time of day, was that I pushed for only nine minutes. And when that pushing stage started, BOY. It was more sudden (though greatly appreciated) than I could imagine. It took the midwives, and my poor sleeping husband (I think he grabbed about three hours that night while I was having those increasingly wild contractions), by surprise. I recall being a rather wild banshee for those nine minutes, as well, not nearly the chilled-out character of last time. The difference between ages 30 and 36? Or just how fast it was happening? All I know is, I wanted that child OUT. And out NOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW.
They tell me that when her head came out, she looked to one side, then the other side, then lifted her head up and looked all around, as if looking for the proper exit. "Pick a side, little one!" I heard the midwives say. (I guess they're supposed to turn to one side and kinda slip out the rest of the way that way, to get one shoulder out at a time.) I thought to myself, "No worries, little one. Your big sister is going to LOVE telling you exactly what to do from now on ..."
So both my kids like to make dramatic entrances, it sounds like. (Lizzy came shooting out through the air, the umbilical cord acting as a bungee cord. So I hear.)
All I have to say is, whatup with this natural birth crapola? If I were doing it again -- which I am NOT -- I would embrace an epidural as my best friend. When I said this to my friend Stacy, she said she thought all moms said that in the days after the birth ... and perhaps that's true. All I know is, it makes me want to shudder to think of those dark hours right before she was born. But, I survived. As women tend to do. And the literally hours of stitching me back together afterward -- I was serving as a sort of training ground for one of the women, it appeared -- were no treat, either.

Yes, we had enough food for the midwives! :) Much of it didn't even get opened, but the mini-quiches from Costco were a big hit. I highly recommend them.

This same friend Stacy, the Baby Whisperer, and her wonderful husband Mike visited with their rockin' camera this afternoon. She got some incredible photos that I hope to share a couple of here soon.

Thanks so much for all your support and encouragement, everyone. Much love to all of you who keep up with us here. We can't wait to share our littlest charge with you!

lil' no-name

2008-07-16T12:42:00.001-04:00

Oh, and I can't find our baby name book. And we still haven't settled on a name.

Yeah, we ARE that lame. Is this a second kid, or what??

please pray for contractions...

2008-07-16T12:35:00.003-04:00

I'm hanging out at home. And still, no contractions! :( I'm about to take a walk to see what we can get worked up here.

We did go out to breakfast, but then Matt's mom called (she's keeping pretty close tabs on us these days) and she told us she was home with a headache, and since she was Lizzy's ride home from school, we just came back home from the restaurant and Lizzy will hang out here.

Matt and Uncle Nick just took Lizzy to the pool to work off some of that energy. She has been reacting rather strangely, and perhaps predictably. The news of the impending baby seems secondary -- perhaps even tertiary -- to whatever she's been into at the moment. "Mom, you may be sitting on the toilet (amniotic fluid issues -- sorry, tmi), but COME WATCH ME PUT ON A PUPPET SHOW!" Hey, listen to me play the piano! Watch me strike the keyboard harder than I know I'm supposed to! Etc. Argghhh. That adjustment from only-childdom might be a struggle.

So, when the boyzz and the girl get back, I'm gonna drag Matt out into the July heat for a stroll through the neighborhood. See what we can get worked up here. I'd tell you what else the midwife recommended (you might remember it from an earlier post), but it would make me blush. Eeek.

D-day

2008-07-16T07:49:00.003-04:00

Yep, it's my due date.

And, oddity of oddities, it would appear that this precocious baby is going to appear today! Also, it chose to start things off at about 7:15 a.m. (water breaking as I got out of the shower), giving Mom and Dad a full night's rest beforehand. Already more merciful than Big Sis was as an infant.

Yet, no contractions, so the dreaded spectre of Castor Oil looms. Not that the birth center has said that. Not that I've talked to them. I got their answering service, and the guy said he'd page the person on call, and I didn't know if I was supposed to hang on or hang up, so I hung up. C'mon - don't make me THINK right now!

So it could well be awhile. Matt's angling to go to Bob Evans (breakfast place), then drop Lizzy off at school.

Man, this timing's awesome. Regrettably, there were a couple tasks that didn't get completed at work yesterday, but they weren't problems that were under my control, so ... sorry, coworkers! And best of luck to you.

So let me go get packed, and grab that Baby Name book, and we're going to hit the road soon (or not? rush-hour traffic?) and see what we shall see.

Toodles!

discouraged

2008-07-15T12:29:00.003-04:00

I'm feeling a bit down today on this baby business.

I kinda thought yesterday that things were starting to happen. And perhaps they were -- perhaps I was having those early contractions that eventually help set everything in motion. I was excited. I was pumped. I was ready. I was a little bummed that The Great Zucchini might be missed, but, frankly, I was mostly okay with that.

But, no. I awoke this morning, as usual -- and many times throughout the night, as usual -- and no major action had been worked up to, despite dreams of "should I call the midwives now? Should I call the birth assistant now? What's the weather like? How close are we to rush hour?"

I do realize that the due date, as sketchy a designation as that is in the first place, is tomorrow. I'm not even really DUE yet, quite. But I guess I'm ready now. And I've been on my guard for weeks -- leaving the office by informing my colleagues what will still need to be done on my behalf should I not return, etc. The up side of that is, they're always happy to see me in the morning.

But I'm to the point now where I wonder -- I really do wonder, as illogical as it is -- whether I will ever give birth. Perhaps not. Can the body re-absorb the baby? Maybe it can. Maybe this little squirmy monster in my belly will just disappear. I hope not, but ... maybe.

It seems like (s)he's ready, too. There's restlessness afoot down there. And I think the baby's moved down considerably over the past few days. No longer does my stomach feel like it's at the back of my throat, and there's a weird, empty-ish, squishy part right below my sternum.

But who decides when the baby will come? Not me, and, it would appear, not him or her. The right release of chemicals (but how do they know)? No one really knows.

I think, if the baby's not here by Friday, I'm done with work. I was going to stop after this week, but I think I'll tack on Friday, as well. Why not. I'll sit and stew at home instead of doing so at work.

I'd really like to see this baby now. I'm ready. It's official.

taking a poll

2008-07-14T14:43:00.002-04:00

Or is it a vote, if there are only two options ... hmmm ... I'm not sure about that.

Anyhoo -- if the baby hasn't shown signs of appearing by tomorrow night: Should I play Matt one game of ping-pong? Give him the best chance he's ever going to get to beat me, in my heavily pregnant state? (sorry, dear, but you KNOW it's true.)
We get our basement back as of 7 a.m. Tuesday morning (but who's counting), and Lizzy and I are looking forward to lots and lots of Ping-Pong. I think Matt's got music studio dreams dancing through his head for that back-corner bedroom-like area.

All in all, I don't wish to be ungracious -- we wish the father in law the best in his retirement and travels and all -- but ... woo HOO! A basement once again. :)

nothin' doin' yet

2008-07-13T20:24:00.002-04:00

In case anyone was wondering ... it's Sunday evening, and I perceive no labor-type action.

I'm also hoping that by typing this, I can tempt Fate to act in the middle of the night, since that's when these things seem to happen ...

tough crowd

2008-07-11T12:28:00.002-04:00

On the way home from work/school a couple of nights ago, Lizzy said quietly, "I'm feeling sad."

"Why?" I asked, immediately assuming that it was because she has to sit in the back seat of our practically a/c-less car for a couple of hours a day. That would be enough to make ME sad.

"There's nothing much to look forward to," she said. Actually, I can't recall her sentence verbatim, but that's what she meant. Nothing on the horizon that seemed exciting.

"WHAT?!!" I shrieked in disbelief.
"A baby brother or sister?
"Getting our basement back (Tuesday) -- endless games of Ping-Pong?
"KITTIES?
"Your Grandma and Grandpa Williams visiting in a couple of weeks?
"Going to your friend Ethan's house a couple nights from now?" (she is always clamoring to do this when we drive past on our way up the street in the evenings.)
"First grade?
"Then Halloween?
"Your birthday?
"Then Christmas?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "I forgot about those things ... but Halloween is kind of a long time away," and her face fell a little.

Geez. What do we require around here, semi-monthly trips to Disneyland? I'm thinking the rest of this year holds plenty of excitement, even for a discerning 5-year-old.

um ...

2008-07-09T16:10:00.002-04:00

I don't even remember what I was going to blog about today. That's pretty much how things are going. I'm hanging in there, yes. But, good land, child -- come soon, okay? Getting to work and back each day is as monumental a task as I remember it being the last time around. And this time, the commute's longer, and the evenings are a little more demanding.

Today is apparently 39 weeks. The due date's been tossed back and forth so much, I don't know what to believe, but since July 16 is the earliest (and most recent) one I've heard, let's go with that. And I had best not go late. At this point, I'm wondering just how much MORE painful Pitocin could possibly be than your garden-variety natural labor ... Hmmmm.

Lizzy has informed me that The Great Zucchini (he's a funny guy who does magic! One time he put a tissue in his mouth, and pulled out a rainbow!) will be appearing at her summer program next Tuesday, and she just has to go. She just about burst into tears when I told her I couldn't really guarantee that.
Her younger sibling -- upstaged even before birth by The Great Zucchini.
Typical.

Also, at this point: We really, truly have no idea what we will be naming the baby. Not even secretly. I thought we had sort of settled on something, but it appears, no. Which is fine. I had reservations about that choice, as I have had (and so has Matt; hence, no name picked) about everything we've come up with. Nothing hangs together as being "just right" for very long.

So, don't give us too much guff when you hear whatever it is we've come up with. It'll probably be a result of me, exhausted and sweaty, looking over at Matt and saying, "Well, what does (s)he look like?" And it'll be Petunia Forsyth, or something similiarly grotesque.

Here's to Shakespeare and his disregard for names.

nesting

2008-07-03T16:04:00.003-04:00

I've heard that preggers folks enter a so-called "nesting phase" right at the end. Getting those last, at times really wacky and overboard, preparations done before the baby arrives. Doing things like scrubbing bathroom tile on hands and knees, rearranging the garage; often it's stuff that the baby couldn't possibly appreciate, or need, once it got here.

I don't recall doing much nesting -- mostly just freaking out, probably -- before Lizzy's arrival. I did bang out a scrapbook that I'd been working on, the weekend before she came (five days late, so if she'd been on time, I wouldn't have accomplished even that).

This time around, it feels like we're more prepared. It helps greatly to have an actual extra room for baby stuff, instead of a "junior one-bedroom apartment" like last time (for which I was properly grateful at the time, it must be said). Still, I'm setting my goals low.

That's probably due at least in part to the fact that I'm utterly paranoid the baby will come at any second. Well, let me amend that to, its imminent arrival will be heralded at any second by my water breaking; the more dramatic the setting, the better.
I had a friend who said she'd carry a pickle jar with her on the metro during her late pregnancies. If her water broke, she thought the embarrassment would be lessened if she threw down the pickle jar, so any mess would be accounted for by broken glass and pickle juice. And pickles, I assume. I'm thinking that might even make things worse, but that was her theory. I'll just let random metro strangers think, hey, that hugely pregnant gal's water broke. And hope I'm not sitting on a seat next to anyone at that time. Because, ewwwwww.

Anyway, I'm not asking much of my weekends these days. I believe my goals for last weekend were roughly as follows:

Purchase a few receiving blankets. (I thought we had some, but Lizzy had confiscated them all long ago to use as dolly blankets.)
Wash receiving blankets.
Do a bit of other laundry.
Go to Costco; buy stupid food supplies for self-catered birth.

Yep, that was about it. But I accomplished all of those tasks! Yahoo.

My husband, on the other hand, has become near-maniacal in his quest for "productivity." Not for me, thank goodness! but for himself. The man pitched in on a manly, deck-building service project for church, cleaned the kitchen very thoroughly, then fretted the next day when I dragged him around town doing other errands. It didn't feel productive ENOUGH, you see, to be driving around.
So instead of seeing Wall-E that afternoon with Lizzy and me, he stayed home and ... steam-cleaned the shower stall in the master bathroom.
He is a man obsessed.

Yesterday, he said something about having blurry vision. "Maybe it's pre-eclampsia!" I said. (that's one of the symptoms the midwives always ask me about on my weekly visits.)
He was quite confused. I guess I'll have to slow down on those "spousal sympathy pains" jokes.

My goals for this coming weekend:

Return library books, which are due on Saturday.
Do more laundry. (this one's only a must because I have so few clothes that fit!)
If I'm feeling crazily ambitious, I might just crack out the bottle purifier and breast pump and re-familiarize myself with how they work, while I'm not quite so sleep-deprived ...

Yep, that's about the entirety of my list. Matt will probably build Rome in a day, or something.

Week 37 checkup

2008-06-27T11:34:00.002-04:00

Had its share of not-great news and weirdness.

For one thing, last week, I appeared to have gained two pounds in the previous two weeks. Hooray! Insane pregnancy weight gain finally tapering off. However, this week, I gained ... five pounds in a week? Hmmm.
I just don't care any more. It makes no sense whatsoever.

A couple bits of unfortunate (not horrible, just less than optimal) news: I'm beta strep positive. An IV for me during labor. Not entirely sure what that's going to mean, but it sounds like decreased mobility. Making yet less sense for me to go to a birth center located an hour's drive from my house, as opposed to the local hospital.

Worse, the baby appears to be in a posterior position. (not the same as breech: Head's down, but facing up instead of down; more pressure from baby's skull on my pelvic bone as it moves down.) Now I'm re-running a conversation I had with my sister in law about her very long, painful back labor with (I believe) niece No. 2. She said my brother had to apply counter pressure to her back with every contraction, leaving him looking almost more exhausted and sweaty by the end than she was. Well, at least Matt will have something constructive to do this time, I suppose.

While I'm being grumpy, I might as well vent about one other aspect of this birth center business. Now that I'm certainly in the home stretch, I'm thinking about all those last-minute things -- install the baby car seat; pack the overnight bag; etc. And with a load of baby wash tonight, that will all be done. But there's one expectation by the midwife and the birth assistant that I'm really not sure how to effectively meet, and it's making me a bit resentful: I'm expected to show up to the birth center with enough food for two meals and snacks for those ladies, and of course the hubby and me. (as if I'll want to eat. I don't remember eating last time. Then again, the active part of the labor was fairly short.)

I do appreciate that these ladies have a really random, uncontrolled work schedule, and it might be a bit hard for them (not to mention potentially dangerous) to take even a few minutes to grab food en route to a birth. But doesn't that same standard apply to me? Yes, I can put some trail mix in the trunk. But other suggestions of things that would be greatly appreciated for their health and grabbability in the midst of a potentially long labor are:

Cheese/crackers
Fresh fruit
Gatorade
Bottled water
Quiche (I've heard this suggested more than once; 'also great for breakfast!')
Pasta dishes

Let's envision the scenarios, shall we? The simplest, and most probable, one is this:

I spend lots of money and time running around getting frozen casseroles, mini-quiches, trail mixes, fresh fruit, and drinks that I stash at my house. (and that perishable fresh fruit stash will be rather tricky to maintain.) I go into labor at my house. I grab all these goodies, stuff them in the trunk and zoom off to the birth center. All is taken care of.

Alternate scenario: I go into labor nowhere near my home (at work, en route to or from, at church, what have you). I then choose, depending on apparent progression of labor, among a) heading straight to birth center; better safe than sorry! b) heading home; gotta get those goodies to make sure these ladies and I can keep our strength up! or c) risking stopping somewhere to re-purchase said goodies, while in labor, on my way to birth center.

There is a Whole Foods within a few blocks of the birth center, but it's only open during the day, and who's gonna make that run over for refreshments? The father to be? Who, it looks like, might have his work cut out for him during this labor anyway? Heh. I can call him while he's standing in the produce section and tell him if it's a girl or a boy. Grrrrrr.

Am I overreacting here? Does this seem a mite ridiculous?

I'll do my best. That's all I can do. I never realized that birthing at a center involved catering as well as pushing out a kid.

in defense of my trade

2008-06-26T14:49:00.002-04:00

My boss passed along the news yesterday that a fairly prominent newspaper in California was outsourcing its copy editing ... to India.

I still can't quite wrap my head around that.

And then, on my way home on the metro last night, I chance to read this column by a guy at the Post whom I consider rather innovative (for a columnist, that is). Check it out!

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/06/19/AR2008061902920.html

theology

2008-06-25T17:30:00.002-04:00

Lizzy had one of those experiences at the pool last weekend that's kinda tough for a parent to watch.

But before that, we had her first swim lesson! Pretty basic stuff, though the instructors did a great job leading their pods of little kids around the (very) shallow area, getting them to have fun while they learned/practiced some basic blowing bubbles into the water, kicking, pulling themselves through the water with their arms, etc.
Much to Lizzy's disappointment, other kids awaited their lessons after hers ended, and we couldn't do any sort of open swim right away. So we went home.

Lizzy had made a little list that she put in a special little notebook holder of the things she wanted to get accomplished that day. Things like "take a walk, play with friends, get ice cream, go to petting store." (we like to go and watch the doggies who are there for doggy day care. Hey, it's free entertainment. Except for the Dairy Queen nearby.)

After she'd added, and crossed off, "Have lunch," we headed back to the pool. Matt stayed home this time and did manly things around the house. I was happy to sit indoors, on a bench, and glance at the library book I'd brought from time to time -- Lizzy was pretty happy to swim and play on her own, as long as Mommy was paying attention now and then.

So she scampered and paddled about happily for a little less than an hour. This pool ousts the kids for 10 minutes every hour (the explanation I heard was so that they'd be more likely to use the bathroom, and keep their "P" out of the "ool,", but it's a pain), so we decided that when the whistle blew, we'd leave. I noticed a few minutes before that, that Lizzy had appeared to make a couple of friends.

When the whistle did blow, she came up to me, looking a little mad and upset, and told me that those girls, whom I had thought were playing with her in a friendly fashion, had been calling her a "baby" and saying she must be "one year old." Interestingly, the girls didn't appear to be any older than her. Lizzy said they'd cut in line when she was at the top of the kiddie waterslide -- Lizzy likes to carefully look over the edge to make sure she's not going to slide down into anyone, and I suppose one of the girls chose that opportunity to go past her -- so Lizzy made sure they heard about it as soon as all were at the bottom. Sounds like the girls didn't much care to be told off in that way, and followed her around and made fun of her and wouldn't leave her alone until the whistle blew and everyone had to get out.

I told Lizzy that she should tell me when someone's bothering her like that. That I was sorry they had been that way, but perhaps they didn't like the way she was telling them what to do, even if, yes, they were probably in the wrong.

With Lizzy's recent (or not? maybe ongoing?) history of bossiness, I'm trying to convey that, yes, others will do silly or ill-advised things, but it's not really our job to tell others how to act.

She was really quite mad at these girls, and kept saying that she hoped their parents somehow knew how they had been acting, and they would get in trouble; that they would have a horrible day for the rest of the day; etc.

I said, "Honey, you can't control what other people do, but you CAN control how you react. There will always be mean girls around; it's not fair, but it's true. Don't let them have control over you by letting them upset you. You've got to shake this off now, so we can have a good rest of the day. And remember what this feels like, so you don't ever hurt others this way."

"Besides," I continued, "Mean people eventually get what they deserve. Do you know why? People won't want to play with them or spend time with them if they don't treat others nicely."

She stopped to consider this, then said, in a rather annoyed, resigned voice: "That sounds like something God would say."

Trying not to laugh, I said, "Well, actually, I bet God would say that we should love our neighbors, and be nice and kind even when other people are being mean to us."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I think he would say both those things."

Lord knows I need to take my own advice. This morning, I just about lunged at a self-important, dark-sunglass-and-suit-wearing guy who told me I couldn't use the crosswalk at 14th and F (making me wait FIFTY SECONDS until the light changed! Horrors!) because "someone's about to come out of the Willard." "Oh," I responded. "Well, I'm sure that's very important." "Hey, I was nice to you," he said. I sat there for about 48 seconds and fumed, then, right before shoving off (slowly -- I'm quite a tank these days) I shot back, "I think being POLITE would be KEEPING THE CROSSWALK OPEN FOR PEDESTRIANS."

Oops. Good thing Lizzy wasn't there.

(almost) all set

2008-06-23T15:51:00.002-04:00

This weekend, we got our baby junk down from the attic and took a look at what's survived the past five years or so. It's nice to see that some lovely, fairly pricey things that our friends gave us when Lizzy was a babe appear ready for another round. Lizzy herself helpfully tested some of the things -- the bouncy seat, the infant carseat, a musical blanket play area thingie, for instance -- with her dolls to make sure they were fit for use. If I weren't so loath to walk up and down our stairs, I would've fetched my camera and gotten some cute photos of it all.

We (Matt and his brother) shoveled out the third bedroom, which has until now been a computer room/Matt's closet/dumping room for some stuff we didn't quite know what to do with, and set up some baby things there. Grandma Connie bought us a nice changing table and bassinet, and we have the toddler bed in there as well, because we don't know what else to do with it. We're going to hold off painting or anything of that level of ambition until we can see for ourselves what flavor of child we've been blessed with.

Lizzy and Matt have declared us "ready," and both of them independently said it'd be great if the baby came tomorrow (which is now today). I vote "not QUITE yet," though with each passing week, I care juuuust a little bit less about being able to work through my boss' planned vacation weeks, etc.

Lizzy told me Sunday that she'd had a dream that the baby had been born, that it was a girl, and that she had successfully held it without dropping it. When I asked if the baby had had a name in her dream, she said, "Yes -- either Lila or Penelope." Though Matt and I haven't come up with a name for certain, it's a fairly safe bet that those two are not in the running.

about four weeks to go

2008-06-18T17:26:00.002-04:00

Supposedly, of course ...

And I'm caught nicely between "Can I HONESTLY make it through four more weeks of this?", and "there is NO WAY I am ready for that kid to come yet."

Lord, your timing, please. Because I'm not even sure what would make the most sense.
Just not quite yet ... not quite yet.

the graduate

2008-06-15T13:55:00.009-04:00

Lizzy's great kindergarten teachers staged an elaborate graduation for their 11-kid class on Friday. The families watched from a tent while the graduates (lined up in front of us, in little mortarboards and blue gowns) sang songs, recited poems and the like.
You won't believe this, but I took a few pictures! :)

Here's their cake. What I found hilarious was how we parents carefully cut pieces around the kids until we absolutely had to break into that section. (Lizzy's on the far left in the bottom row.)

Good cake, too! Good ratio of frosting to cake, and nice and sugary. Added bonus -- it turned your mouth blue. (yes -- I'm still pregnant. I'm currently quite obsessed with frosting, and seriously considering asking Matt if we can celebrate my birthday with cake 2 1/2 months early. No presents -- just cake. Hey, maybe cake BOTH times!!!)

I love this next shot because I can see two little Lizzy expressions at once!

The teachers had written a little essay on the back of each child's paper that told what they wanted to be when they grew up. Lizzy? She wants to be "a mother of six -- three boys and three girls." I wonder if this is an only-child thing ...

This next one, obviously, is Lizzy receiving her diploma. They really went all out!

And once a kid has a diploma, well, you KNOW what he/she's gonna do with it:

Here's the three of us, right after the ceremony. I'll try to avoid mentioning the phrase "water weight" overly much:

After we had snacks there at the day care, and cake, and watched the slide show that my husband and I put together, we went to a local park and had a barbecue and swam. (if you're curious, no, I did not swim. I sat in the shade and felt self-conscious about my Wonder Bread loaf-sized ankles.)
We also could've played mini-golf, but the siren song of the water was too much for the kids to resist. God bless the dads! They played endlessly and interchangeably with the kids.
Matt told me in the midst of it at one point: (something like) "I wish sometimes I were a boy daddy." He did have a blast, throwing those boys around and being semi-strangled by them.

Here's a cutie lineup!

feedback questions

2008-06-11T16:06:00.002-04:00

One of my little features department tasks in our weekly magazine is the collecting and positioning of the week's feedback replies. Basically, I (with help from coworkers) think of inane, but innocuous, questions to send the reporters for their humiliation -- or so they think -- forcing them out into the world to interact with (one would hope) our readers, overseas. They grab passersby and ask the questions, take down the answers, take a head shot of the person, and send these goodies back to me.

Granted, they're generally quite lame, along the lines of, "What's your favorite hobby?" or, "if you had one million dollars to give away, what worthy organization would you choose?" I know ... zzzzz. Sometimes we make it relevant for an upcoming holiday and ask something like, "What was your favorite Halloween costume as a child?"

I'm about to compile a new list of questions, so I sent out an e-plea to the bureaus to help me come up with stuff. Part of the idea is, hey, reporters! If you dislike the questions so much, help us think of better ones!

One of the reporters sent back some ideas that had me bursting with laughter this morning. I don't want to type them here, rendering them Googlable, but if you're interested, let me know and I'd be happy to pass along the list. I found it quite hilarious. Unusable, but hilarious.

spousal science

2008-06-10T12:17:00.002-04:00

The spouse and I are in the process (still? or is this lifelong?) of learning when to listen to each other, and when not to. I mean, I'd like to think we always listen; but, well, when do we believe in the greater wisdom of the other and take the proffered advice? Or believe the offered fact?

That may not even be what's coming into play in this most recent anecdote.

What happened is this: Yesterday morning, we left the house late (even for us!) en route to kicking off another workweek. Searing hot already, at 8:30-ish. And our car's A/C has been reduced to a trickle.

Needless to say, we were all pretty out of it. I forget exactly how this conversation got started. Oh yeah -- I mentioned that if Matt had any plans to do anything for his dad, this coming weekend was Father's Day. Matt said, "What? I thought Father's Day was yesterday!" Which sent me into immediate freakout mode. At first I thought, noooo ... but I'm so losing track of days recently -- I base things on a) how many days until Matt's dad moves out of our basement (meaning no offense to him; that's simply when a lot of home rearranging takes place), and b) how many days until my due date, not what's actually stated on the calendar -- that it COULD BE POSSIBLE.

"I talked to my dad yesterday! And didn't say 'Happy Father's Day'!" I wailed. "Nor have I mailed off his gift! It cannot be!"

"Well, I told my dad 'Happy Father's Day,'" Matt said. "But didn't do anything else. He did seem surprised that it was Father's Day."

Then I felt horrible for not having acknowledged the day's import to Matt in any way! I am a terrible wife and mother!

I sat there for a few seconds, weighing what was more likely: That Matt was right, and I had missed Father's Day, or that I had the correct sense of schedule in my head after all. I simply wasn't certain.

Then Matt spoke the words that set us both straight: No. It cannot have been Father's Day. If it had been, Lizzy's kindergarten would most surely have acknowledged the event with some sort of fanfare for the dads.

At least the day care has its act together, even if we don't.

oh baby

2008-06-06T17:30:00.003-04:00

I had the dreaded June 5 "July babies meeting" from 7 to 9:30, in old-town Alexandria, 30 miles from my home, last night. Which was a GIGANTIC pain, though I suppose it was fairly useful. I think the main point was, "if you feel you're going into labor, AT ALL, CALL US!!! in bold and underlined three times. Okay. Will do. With some really bizarre slide show/film/discussions thrown in there.
A touching example, not for the squeamish: If you're bleeding too much immediately after, er, birthing? passing? your placenta, and your baby isn't into the suckling thing yet, your husband can do it! Because nipple stimulation is necessary to make the uterus contract the necessary amount to stanch the blood flow! Yes, okay, I just lost 18 of 19 of you. And, no, I would never ever do this, not with other people in the room. I will bleed to death first. So, you get my point with the earthy gore. And lots and lots of episiotomy discussions. Apparently, first-time laborers are scared out of their minds to have one. When you get there, trust me -- YOU WILL NOT CARE, if it gets that kid out of you.

I was amused to note that almost all the women had their husbands in tow. I suppose that makes sense. I think that Matt's suffered through enough Bradley classes, and one real-live birth!, to be given a break. Also, someone had to put Lizzy to bed ...

So, I got home at 11:35 last night. On a weeknight. Had to wait on two late-night metros, endure a bunch of drunken Nationals baseball fans, etc., etc. I hate it when I have no evening, and get to bed quite late to boot. I've been comatose today.

I did note, as I was strolling around before the meeting, that the birth center is, in fact, a block and a half west of the bar/grill where Matt and I first met (doing karaoke). Awwwww!

I do so love old-town Alexandria. It's so lovely, in that genuine, yet kinda touristy-fake, real old-timey Virginia sort of way. Adorable buildings; brick walkways; gas lanterns; pineapples poised over entryways; etc. It's probably the one place I've consistently taken visitors. Not to the White House; not to, um, whatever else we have here in D.C. that I used to know about; but to Old Town. It's that cool to me. Lots and lots of good memories.
Here's hoping that one more is about six weeks away!

there are tornadoes outside,

2008-06-04T16:54:00.001-04:00

and stuff, but what I have been most shocked by this afternoon is that the Five Guys in the food court downstairs claims today that their fries (well, potatoes) were grown in Moses Lake, Idaho.

Unbelievable.

what Matt's been up to

2008-06-03T12:43:00.003-04:00

His latest project -- a shed in his mom's backyard. Where we lived until a year ago January.
Ridiculously cute, eh? It matches the townhouse. Built from scratch, as every good Maisel project is!

And he's got a nasty sunburn on his back to show for it, as well...

34 weeks

2008-06-03T07:37:00.004-04:00

A good friend encouraged me to be loud and proud to be myself, not one of these frustratingly dainty little pregnant people who look totally like themselves, except with a volleyball under their shirts. So, in the spirit of self-acceptance, I present to you this photo of myself, taken last night by my 5-year-old daughter (which is why it's angled up considerably, perhaps heightening the effect?), looking more like someone who's gained 50 pounds over the course of the experience and was a little overweight to start with:

Yes, I have six more weeks to go (in theory). No, I'm not sure how it's possible to get MUCH bigger, but I have every confidence that a way will be found. Supposedly, the baby weighs about four pounds now. Since Lizzy was 8 pounds, 2 ounces ... oh my. Yes. A ways to go.

The good news is, from the vanity perspective: The ever-increasing belly minimizes the also ever-increasing thighs, upper arms, double chin, etc. ... There's some work to be done here after that baby arrives. We have big plans to have located and procured a Wii Fit by then.

summer entertainment

2008-05-25T22:12:00.003-04:00

This is the time of year I make it a priority to get out and see movies. Back in 'the old days' -- pre-kids, I suppose that means, and especially during the summers I wasn't dating anyone, or the boyfriend lived in a different town, or whatever ... I would go see a lot of art-house movies by myself. But these days, I have time and freedom for only so many a year, and frankly, my brain is mush. And I also can't take the morally ambiguous, pathos-heavy ones any more, be they ever so well done. So it's big blockbustery stuff for me.

Thus far this summer, I've seen three -- I thought I'd give you Kate's perspective.

First, Iron Man. If I haven't already said so, this movie ROCKS. For so many reasons. Pretty much, you just have to see it. I'm betting it will be the best of the summer. (I have some hope, but not too much, for The Dark Knight - the first Batman movie was awesome, but Heath Ledger as the Joker is NOT doing it for me in the previews. But perhaps I'll be surprised. I'll also add that Hancock is starting to look rather interesting, as well. These movies both come out on or after my due date, though, which means I don't know how long it'll be before I can make it to them. Unless I take an infant, to a matinee. Hmmmm...)
I'd never even heard of Iron Man, the superhero, before the hype machine cranked up for this movie. I'm no Marvel Comics addict. Though there's nothing at all wrong with that. Low expectations do tend to help. Though this movie would meet high expectations, as well.

Second: Prince Caspian. Now, no one loves the Narnia books more than I do. Really. Not possible. And I'm not one of these purist types who flies into a million pieces if a moviemaker deviates from the book by a smidge (I'm looking at you, Potter fans). I recognize this sometimes makes for more compelling viewing, as opposed to reading. And I liked the first movie.
However ... this one didn't quite do it for me. It's hard to say why. One likely reason -- it was my least favorite book. Just not all that. The Pevensies go back to Narnia. And there are a few compelling thoughts about faith and God sprinkled here and there. That's it. The end. Well, and the revelation that there are other 'ways into Narnia,' which I don't quite know what to do with. But if you want killer Middle Earth-style battle scenes, and special effects, it begins and ends with the Lord of the Rings trilogy. This series suffers greatly from having come after that one. I do realize that it's possible/probable that the only reason the movies were green-lighted (green-lit?) was the smashing success of LotR. The next book/movie (Voyage of the Dawn Treader) will be either utterly killer, or hopelessly cheesy. I'm crossing my fingers for the former. I like the casting of the younger Pevensies best, so I won't be sad to see the eldest two go. It's already got that going for it. No White Witch, though (I don't think). Tilda Swinton absolutely rocks.

I just got back from the latest Indiana Jones movie. Disappointing. It's even worse than you think a movie about a 'Kingdom of the Crystal Skull' will be, believe it or not. Well, it's not terrible -- none of these movies was terrible -- but so not Indy at his finest. It's actually not even interesting enough to be terrible, come to think of it. I mean, the second movie was what I'd consider terrible, and those images of eating baby snakes and monkey brains, and still-beating hearts ripped out of chests, and the sheer horror that is Kate Capshaw, is forever burned into my brain. This latest one, surprisingly, was less than stellar not because Harrison Ford has one foot in the grave. That all played just fine. And they do some cool stuff with the new addition -- Shia LaBeouf. Who is my personal favorite 'far-younger-than-me actor that I secretly love for some random reason.' Though my mother in law thoroughly cured me of that recently by remarking, when I told her that he reminded me a lot of Matt: "Oh, really? I've always thought he looked just like Nick" (her other son). Yeah. No more Shia lust for me. Done. Bleeaaahhh.
But I still can enjoy the actor -- he does his slightly goofy, comedic, sometimes black sheep thing very well. And he did it well here. They had the usual cute little comedic touches that Indy movies do so well. I also adore Cate Blanchett, but they didn't ask a whole lot of her. But the storyline? oh MY. I don't want to spoil anyone, but I will say that if I wanted sci-fi, I'd watch one of my Star Trek DVDs. For pity's sake, people.
George Lucas, I'd love to say you have failed me for the last time, but you have your finger in so many cinematic pies, you're a hard one to avoid.

I dunno about this place sometimes

2008-05-20T05:35:00.002-04:00

I am never up this early!
Why am I up this early today? Well, I wanted to MAKE SURE Lizzy got registered for a swim class at the local rec center.
I wouldn't have even dreamed of the necessity of getting up at 5 a.m. for this task. But stumbling upon the registration site a week or two after the first day of registration didn't work so well last time. Actually, it did -- I got her on a wait list, and our name came up, but she decided that the second-level class sounded too scary. Given her tendency toward shyness in new (especially slightly scary, to her) situations, it was probably for the best that we gave up that spot.
But, she'll be 6 in November, and this level 1 class was only good through age 5. So, with Matt's agreement to escort her to class -- they begin four weeks before my due date, and last for eight weeks -- I planned to sign her up for a summer course that starts in June.
Amusingly enough, the one thing that got me stuck on rising early for this task was Fairfax County's "Don't worry! Don't lose sleep over registering your kid -- HA! Actually, everything but the aquatics classes remains open for registration after the first day. By the way -- did you know we start registration AT 5 A.M.?!!?!
Heck. Pregnant people can't sleep, anyway.* So I found myself awake and staring at the clock at 5:13, and thought, what the hey.
By the time the computer graciously allowed me access to a registration page, it was about 5:20, and I was sweating a little. Just the fact that the site seemed to be crashing due to high volume was blowing my mind. Or was it our computer?
Nope. It's the site. When I got in, NINE of the class' TWELVE spots had been spoken for. Are you SERIOUS??? By the time I paid and logged out, it was 10. And I don't think the 10th was Lizzy. Granted, it's a Saturday morning class, the only time we (and probably many others) could make it.
Well, we're in now, boy! And the lesson is reinforced; if the game is competition, or getting your kid in a program of some sort, don't mess with the parents in Fairfax County. Yowzah.

* This has to be God's/the body's slightly harsh way of preparing us for those sleepless nights. Seems like SLEEP is my ideal preparation for months of sleeplessness, but hey. Not up to me, apparently.

still my baby

2008-05-06T15:23:00.002-04:00

Overall, this pregnancy's been okay. I'm still not yet feeling like I've been pregnant forever, and will be pregnant forever; instead of thoroughly bemoaning my beefy self, I'm mostly just averting my eyes; tiredness has not been a big problem. (I can remember with Lizzy, there were days at work I just wanted to crawl under my desk and take a nap. I think I even tried it, one time.)

There are things I miss, though. Now that the 'hint of summer' season is upon us -- at least, occasionally -- I could really go for a margarita. I'm much more of a summer alcoholic drink kind of person. But it's not that big a deal.

I miss doing active things, not that I have much opportunity for them these days anyway. It's a bummer, though -- recently, Lizzy's gotten into actual sports! Not in an organized fashion yet, but she's got a little pink baseball mitt, and she enjoys playing catch. She's always had a good little arm on her; now we're working on the catching part. She's getting the hang of it. And our neighbors have a (lowered) basketball hoop in the street, which she likes to try using sometimes. She tells me she made one a couple of weekends ago. I'm so proud just to see her try and try, and not get too frustrated. I wish I could lift her up and help her make one up high, as she'd like me to do. But I've explained that I'm not supposed to lift her these days, and she understands. She's been very good about it.

I didn't realize what I'd miss the most, though. Those times of picking her up and holding her are like nice, long cuddle-hugs. She still gives me hugs, of course, but when I'm kneeling down (no easy feat in itself these days) and she's all wiggly and ready to go onto the next thing, it's definitely not the same.

I carried her into the house a couple of weeks ago from the car. I know I shouldn't have, but she'd fallen asleep, and Matt was busy with something else, and I wanted to try. I got her upstairs without too much drama. It just felt so good to have her in my arms, her holding onto me, trusting me completely.

I'd never before really appreciated the power of touch. I remember occasionally missing that after a relationship would end -- that I didn't have anyone with that comfort factor any more. No one to hold hands with and whatnot. I'm really dreading the age -- coming soon -- when Lizzy is too big a girl to want to be tickled and held and hugged a lot. I remember lots of times, my mom wanted me to come sit on her lap, and she attempted a little cuddle, while I inwardly rolled my eyes and put up with it for a few seconds. I don't remember how old I was -- is Lizzy there yet?

Thank goodness that another hapless little babe is on the way for me to torture in similar manner. I'm not ready to let go of those years quite yet.

work

2008-04-30T17:34:00.002-04:00

Sorry I've been so quiet. (if, in fact, that's a bad thing ... yeah, yeah.)

The job has been wild for the past couple of weeks, and promises to be so right up until the minute that baby pops out. Right now it's because we've just begun using a new computer program to design our pages and do everything else we do here at the newspaper, and wow, could I go on and on about how not-fun it is. I am not the techno wizard that some others are. I have not the brain for instant comprehension of these matters. And so, do I work harder to compensate? No, I pretty much curl up into a ball of denial until the very moment I have to begin work on said new system. And then I cry inside. A lot.

Our department was the first to 'go live,' by virtue of our weekly deadline as opposed to daily for the news side, and we just successfully put out our very first magazine in the new system -- yay! This was due mostly to the Herculean efforts of my boss and coworker, for which I'm not proud. I will say that it's tough when I'm told I need to find three hours for a repeat glucose test, and the kindergarten thinks it's mandatory that I attend a graduation planning meeting, a 'summer program' planning meeting and a parent/teacher conference at around this same time. And when our stupid commute situation doesn't really allow for me to linger extra hours.

Okay, enough about all that. Just wanted to explain the relative silence on this end.

'normal'

2008-04-23T19:26:00.001-04:00

At the end of a fairly crappy day at work, I come home to a phone message that the three-hour glucose test indicated that all was all normal.

Whew.

the music of the night

2008-04-22T14:32:00.002-04:00

I've been looking forward to tonight's episode of American Idol for as long as I've known about it. If you're at all intrigued by this show, particularly the train-wreck appeal, I highly suggest you tune in tonight.

It's Andrew Lloyd Webber night, people. I just don't know how much more beautiful it gets than that. And I'm saying that after having seen Dolly Parton night, and Mariah Carey night.

My only regrets are that there are only six singers left, so only six ALW-penned performances; and the dramatic, full-throated singing options likely mean the end of my favorite potential Idol, Brooke.

THIS ... is excellent escapism!

too MUCH sugar, apparently

2008-04-21T15:31:00.002-04:00

I took a glucose tolerance test on Thursday afternoon. Apparently, I failed it. Not by a lot, I'm told, but by enough that they want me to re-test -- this time, for three hours.

So, tomorrow morning I'll be sitting at some random office on K Street for three hours, not having eaten anything since the night before. I wish there were a way to communicate to the wee (unborn) child that, yes, I know you're squirming around because you're hungry, but, no, I'm not allowed to give you anything just yet. Except that blast of sugary glucose drink. I hope my innards survive the thrashing.

In the grand scheme of things, even if I do turn out to have gestational diabetes, I suppose it's not that big a problem. But I'm feeling a bit mopey about it. I just don't want to have to deal. Let's just get through the next three months in a normal-type fashion and get the show on the road, people.