Wu Tang is for the Children

Celebratory Photo Essay, Rehashed

2007-11-29T14:19:00.000-06:00

Five years ago today, Nate and I were joined in Holy Matrimony.

Here is what I looked like on the outside.

And here is what was happening on the inside.

Due to the circumstances, some of my relatives were none too pleased.

And, if I'm being honest, I'll admit that I was scared as hell. How could I know whether I was making a good decision? That day, I went through the motions, hoping against hope that my family was wrong.

And they were. I couldn't have believed, then, how fantastically happy my life is now.
Thank you for that. I love you.

I'm re-publishing this post from 05. I wish I could post it over at the main blog, because, to me, it is hilarious and sweet. But I don't want to offend my family... That's my brother in-law frowning in one of the pictures. And while I think posting the picture of him on the blog my family reads would be in poor taste, I still believe he disapproves of my marriage and of me in general. But whatever. After 5 years, it's hard to give a shit.

Also, let's pretend that last picture has our whole family in it... I'm too lazy to find a current one right now.

Little Bit o' Crazy

2007-11-18T19:34:00.000-06:00

Hey, dudes. Don't know if anyone is still checking in over here, but I found this slide show of the Creation Museum. It is amazing, in a very unamazing way. If you know what I mean.

My favorites were the signs about dinosaurs, above, but there were some other choice bits about sin and suffering, including a picture of a woman in labor. (!!!) Love it.

Could not pay me enough to set foot in this building with my children. By myself, you could maybe pay me $100,000. But with my kids, no, never.

That is all.
Now must blog at MaiasauraMade.

The Onion

2007-09-10T19:59:00.000-05:00

The Onion comes through with the best Pitchfork Media spoof ever.

Pitchfork Gives Music 6.8

Didn't Quite Pass the Grandma Test

2007-08-18T16:46:00.000-05:00

If you've heard R. Kelly's song Same Girl, you'll enjoy this variation on the theme.

So funny.

2007-07-17T09:46:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm back. Sooner than I expected, actually.

The day after my last post, things improved greatly. Something amazing and strange happened on Friday. We didn't leave the house, yet we spend most of the day apart. I didn't plan it that way, it just sort of happened. First, Simon was listening to a cd of Rudyard Kipling's Just So Stories (do you all know how much we love the audio books in this house? love them!) and I went upstairs with Theo to pick up some messes.
An hour or so later, Simon came upstairs, naked and with some poop on his butt. I told him to get into the bathtub, just as a way to contain the mess, and he asked to take a bubble bath. So he spent the next hour playing in the tub while Theo and I had lunch downstairs. I was nervous about the poop situation I would discover, but it was nothing... glorified skid marks. Phew with a capital P-H.
I think our time apart helped us, but, honestly, I woke up on Friday feeling so much better. Maybe simply writing about it helped. I knew there was a reason I kept this blog around.

We had a great weekend. Some time with friends, some time with family, lots of time relaxing at home.

Because he's a sweetie who thinks of me even when I'm in my own world, Nate borrowed some Harry Potter movies from his sister. I've been listening to the audio books as I craft and do housework, so it was fun to see the film versions. Our verdicts were the same as all that we read online: Chamber of Secrets (#2) was terrible. Everything was over explained and boring. Prisoner of Azkaban (#3), on the other hand, was fantastic. Much more cinematic, attractive, and well-crafted.

I think tonight we'll watch the fourth, The Goblet of Fire. Normally we can't do movies on a week night, but Simon is gone today, spending the night with my mom. That gives us an excuse to watch tv and lounge all night. Theo will be here, of course, but it's easy to forget about setting examples when the little one can't talk. He's a silent witness, the safest kind.

Here's another example of that: in the past, when Simon has been gone, I have gone on huge eating binges. I have bought ice cream, cookies, chips, fries, frosties, etc. and eaten whole packages at once. With Simon gone, there was nobody to see me, no one to set a bad example for or to share with. Well, Theo could see me, but he couldn't say anything later. He couldn't tell Nate to check out the garbage can to see all the treats he missed out on.

Four weeks ago I decided to start going to Weight Watchers meetings, instead of just doing the program online. And I have been a very good girl. No more secret binging, with or without Simon around. I should've done it long ago.

Theo's asleep and Simon's gone, so what am I doing sitting here? I've got stuff to do! Bye bye!

2007-07-13T06:59:00.000-05:00

Off of Cornel West's new album, feat. Talib Kweli.

2007-07-12T15:21:00.000-05:00

It's been a hard week, or two weeks, or three weeks, I can't remember. Simon and I have been butting heads. I'm almost being literal. We are really having a rough go of it. He has presented a challenge, and I'll admit right here that I haven't risen to the call. I am floundering. It's like there are two children interacting, rather than an adult and a 4 year old.

In times past, when I've felt more in control of myself, when my parenting has been more measured and intentional, I have woken each morning with a fresh supply of patience and love. Lately I wake up with a low supply and by day's end I'm on empty.

When we struggle like this, I can't help but wonder how royally am I fucking up, exactly how badly am I screwing up this kid? From that ugly thought it's a slippery slope to feeling crappy about other areas in my life. Before long my head is filled with the loud noise of self-loathing. I convince myself that I'm a terribly mother, wife, friend, and housekeeper. And then I ponder my failure all day long. I only take a break to wonder what it will take to get out of this dark place. But I come up with nothing. Then I slip into it again.

I'd like to be a cartoon, drawn with a thought bubble full of all my self-doubt and fear of failure. The next frame would show me tipping my head to the side, banging on my ear, and letting all my nasty thoughts just fall to the ground. Next frame = smiling me.

But maybe I make things too hard. Maybe it's just that simple in real life, too. Hold on, let me try that.

Okay, no. Didn't work. And now my ear hurts too.

Wanted to check in, but won't be back until the fog clears and the funk passes. You can still find my superficial/happy/crafty self at the other blog, though.

Michel Gondry on MTV Cribs

2007-07-08T22:08:00.001-05:00

Listastic

2007-06-27T14:13:00.000-05:00

Things Currently Stressing Me Out
-Theo's refusal to nap lately.
-Having to keep the recycling bin and the garbage can on the already-too-small counter, because Theo won't stay out of them.
-Laundry in the hamper, laundry in the dryer, folded laundry waiting to be put away.
-My sister and her family just took a trip to The Creation Museum. She has told me several times how we have to go, Simon would love it, it's so cool, etc. I'm just waiting for the day when I'll have to tell her that I secretly love science and believe in Evolution (I accepted Evolution even when I was a firm Christian; to me there is no inherent conflict between the two. When you take the Bible literally, though, there is conflict indeed). This revalation will not be taken lightly. There will be discussions and accusations. Ugly.

Things Currently Making Me Sad
-My dad had a driving test last week and failed. He needs to be doing a lot more work to be making progress in this area, but he is not motivated. It is hard, because loss of motivation is a direct result of the stroke, but if he isn't pushed to push himself, he'll never drive (or work) again. My mom was especially bummed by all this.
-Not celebrating Theo's first birthday in the place where he was born.

Things Currently Making Me Happy
-Watching Bleak House with my hubby. Not a particularly happy story, but it's always nice to find something new that we enjoy watching together.
-Air conditioning.
-A new walkman for listening to Harry Potter audiobooks from the library.
-Successes in the shop.

letting go

2007-06-11T09:21:00.000-05:00

This week Simon is going to a Vacation Bible School at my sister's church. Every morning, for about 3 hours. This is happening because my brother, who lives here in Bloomington (well, Normal, actually) is going to help out at the VBS, and offered to take Simon and bring him back. I accepted the offer because five days of free mornings was too tempting to pass up, and also because I didn't feel like having a conversation about religion with my sister.

This morning as he left, Nate and I were both feeling very nervous, questioning our decision. I know that getting Simon 'saved' is mission critical for my family, and I can imagine the alter calls that will happen during this week of VBS, having been to similar programs myself all throughout my childhood.

Still, I let him go. It was my decision... I guess I'm starting to face the reality that my family are evangelical Christians and that Simon will be exposed to their worldview throughout his life. So why try to keep him away from it now? It's just scary, in a way, to send him out into the world and not be in control of what other people want to teach him.

We might be fielding a lot of interesting questions this week. We'll see.

We had a great day in Chicago on Saturday. For those of you who came out to see us, thank you. For those of you we missed, sorry. We'll catch you next time.

This won't come as a surprise, but, for me, it was still heartbreaking to visit the city but not be a resident. It was especially emotional to spend the afternoon in Palmer Square, eating lunch where Simon spent hundreds of hours running, looking at bugs, drawing on the sidewalks. Those same sidewalks were the ones I walked to get my labor going when I was ready for Theo to arrive. Such memories almost made me cry into the picnic blanket, but being surrounded by old friends kept my spirits up.

It was a nice day, all in all. We need to get up there more. And maybe someday we'll get up there for good.

2007-06-08T07:23:00.000-05:00

Hey, guys, did I lose everyone? Has anyone followed me over to the new blog? I know a few people have seen it, but it seems like most everyone else got lost in the shuffle. One last reminder: New blog, created to support my crafting/etsy efforts, is here. Later, dudes.

Another Reason to Ignore the Laundry

2007-06-04T11:14:00.000-05:00

Here's the deal, readers. I am packing up and moving this operation to a new location. That's right, it's time for a new blog. Why, you ask? Why would I do such a thing? I'll tell you.

This weekend I accomplished the long-time goal of putting up a shop on Etsy.com. For those of you unfamiliar, it is a great site, a place where people sell their handmade goods. I'll be selling various things in my shop. So far I've got eight items for sale there. Lots of people have looked, no one has yet bought. It's okay, though. It's like Christmas every morning when I go down to the computer to see how many people have looked at my stuff, to see if anyone has called my shop a favorite. It is very fun. I am obsessed. Nate is none too pleased, as I'm always on the computer now. He did help me a lot, though, by making the banner and avatar for the shop and new blog. Thank you, babe. I love them.

Oh, yeah. New blog. Here it is: MaiasauraMade. Let me explain, though, that WuKids is not dead. I will still post here from time to time. MaiasauraMade is for all things crafty, creative, innocuous, safe. I'll use the Grandma test, even though my Grandma doesn't have a computer and will never see either of these blogs. If I want to post about something that I might share with my Grandma, it will go on MaiasauraMade. If I wouldn't want her to read it, it will be posted to WuKids.

The new blog is totally about publicity and marketing. If I can get noticed in the craft blog community, it will undoubtedly spell success for my etsy shop, assuming people don't hate my stuff (I don't think they will). I've been lurking around the craft blogs long enough to understand how it works. If you can get your little internet nose into the circle, people will buy your stuff. So that's why I'm starting the new blog.

Like I said, I want the content to be totally safe... nonthreatening for anyone who might stumble by. So you might notice me adopting a slightly different persona over there... hopefully I won't sound so flaky that you guys need to gag.

One more thing. I won't be linking to friends' blogs on the new blog..... I want to keep the personal separate from the crafting enterprise. Mostly to make it a little harder for my family to stumble across this blog. Most of them still don't know about WuKids, and I'd be happy to keep it that way. So please don't be hurt when I don't post a link to your blog. I still love ya.

Sorry for the super choppy post. This is the fastest post I've ever written. I've been working on etsy stuff all morning, and Simon is begging me to play a game. I am officially scatterbrained. I'll try to make posts on the new blog a little more coherent and thought out. Hop on over there, guys, and tell me what you think.

Three Stories from the Streets of Bloomington

2007-05-31T07:27:00.000-05:00

One.
Walking down the street, heading to Carl's for some ice cream. Nate stays home, putting the boys to bed. I'm wearing mom-jeans, my make-up has worn off, revealing my incredibly dark under eyes. My hair is pulled into an unassuming pony-tail. I'm not feeling remotely alluring, especially because this is my second trip for a large chunky shake in as many days. For these reasons, the following scene catches me by surprise.

I'm on the sidewalk, passing by a house with three or four young men sitting on the stoop. I see one of them give me the up-down, I guess he is about 18, Latino. With less than 10 feet separating us, he commences with his cat-call. The close proximity makes it one of the most awkward cat-calls I've endured; the phrases he employs makes it one of the most humorous: "Hey, mama. Where you goin'? Don't hurt nobody. Don't hurt nobody."

Two.
We pull into the parking lot of Kroger. It's hot. Our windows are down. Nate gets out, ice cream and lemonade on his mind. I stay in the car with the boys. Exactly as he gets out of the car, an African American woman pulls her cart up to the van next to us. She's talking in a friendly voice to a friend? spouse? in the front seat. Instantly, her voice changes and she begins harshly admonishing a child who has, apparently, unbuckled his seat belt.

"If you don't get back in that seat belt right now these white people are gonna call the police on me."

I follow her logic, but her son misses it. "Why?" he queries.
"Because I'm gonna beat the hell outta you, that's why."

I don't appreciate being used as part of her threat, but somehow I admire her candor.

Three.
Taking an early morning walk with the boys. Theo is in the stroller, Simon walks alongside. We walk past a plaza that contains a laundry mat and a convenience store. In front of the laundry mat, a man stands outside of a car, a woman stands by the passenger side door. He starts to shout at me. I can't understand one word he's saying. Typically I would ignore someone shouting at me, especially a male. But something about the scene, maybe the woman standing right there makes me think, "Maybe they need help." So I look a little harder, a little longer than I normally would.

But, no, after a few seconds I can tell by the inflection of his voice that he is trying to work some kind of pick-up magic, with a woman who could be his wife or mother for all I know standing right there. I turn my head back to the path before me, ignoring his calls. He persists in shouting at me. I still can't understand what he's saying, but I can imagine. For the first time in my cat-call history, I decide to break silence.

"Hey, man," I say disapprovingly, "I'm with my kids here."

He answers and for the first time I can make out his words. "I LOVE KIDS!" he says.

This response leaves me speechless. I keep walking.

Blogging CSA --- Week 1 Menu

2007-05-29T21:29:00.000-05:00

Here is what we picked up from Farmer Henry tonight: garlic, beets, spinach, radishes, lettuce, bok choi, cilantro, and rhubarb. We also got a CSA cookbook with many ideas on how to eat all this bounty.

After pouring over cookbooks and online recipe sites, here is how I plan to use it all:

Wednesday: Linguini with arugula, pine nuts, and Parmesan (we didn't get arugula from our CSA, but I have some from the supermarket that I need to use up). Recipe from the CSA cookbook.

Thursday: Tofu and Bok Choi stir-fried in peanut oil, served with rice. From CSA cookbook.

Friday: Cilantro-Lime Soup served with tostadas. From CSA cookbook. Also, make Rhubarb Stir-Cake Friday night. From allrecipes.com

Saturday: We're going to Nate's folks' house for dinner. I'll take the Rhubarb cake to share.

Sunday: Leftovers. I rarely cook on Sundays.

Monday: Beet soup with Three Legumes. From Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison.

Tuesday: Grilling out. Marinated chicken breasts and sliced radishes, in a foil pack with garlic, salt, and pepper. Both from allrecipes.com. I'll need to be on the ball and have dinner ready early, so we can head over and pick up our next batch of veggies! Pick-up is 6:30 - 7:30 pm.

I hope to use the garlic and lettuce throughout the week, in salads and other dishes. I don't have specific plans for them, so hopefully they get used up and don't go to waste.

These are all new recipes. If any of them are winners, you'll probably see them in the next Christmas cookbook.

Animal Funnies and PSA

2007-05-29T12:19:00.001-05:00

These are two sites featuring animals that I find amusing.

First, disapproving rabbits. I don't understand it, but I like it. Click on the numbers at the bottom of the page for more pictures and disapproval. Cassie, if you are reading this, please note that this strange page is nestled within a birding blog.

Next, this weirdness. I understand this even less. Most of the captions are in a sort of lingo that was unfamiliar to me. Nate told me they are in leet speak, which from my understanding is a formal term for internet jargon. You all may know about it already, I had to have it explained by my nerdy husband and am still a little fuzzy on it. Mysterious. But funny.

Finally, dear readers, many of you will be receiving invitations to Theo's birthday party in the mail. I want to make it clear that these invitations do not come with an expectation of attendance, especially if you reside in Chicago. Think of it more as a goodwill gesture, a wish. This invitation says we love you and wish we saw more of you. It does not say our friendship will suffer if you choose not to travel three hours just to have lunch with us. Okay? Okay. At the same time, if you do want to come, we'd be thrilled. Since there aren't any games or themed decorations to focus on, I can put all my energy toward the food. The lunch promises to be ridiculous (if you were at Simon's first b-day party, you know what I mean), and hopefully delicious. So you might want to take that fact into consideration.

Weekend Update

2007-05-29T07:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday we had pictures taken with my side of the family. This is a yearly tradition, driven by my mother's insistence that each new addition to the clan must be professionally documented, elsewise they don't count. In years past, we have always gone to JC Penny, Sears, Portrait Innovations, or some equally terrible establishment to have these pictures taken, and always around Thanksgiving. This year, at my urging, we waited until Spring to do the annual pictures. My reasoning for postponing the pictures involved my weight, as I hoped I would be thinner in May. I am not thinner now than I was in November, but, alas, the picture plan proceeded. Along with the seasonal change, we convinced my mom to switch photographers. Instead of the ubiquitous grey canvas background, we went with something more creative, more modern. A family friend has started a photography business, and we hired her for the frightful task of making five little children smile at the same time, or at least look in the same general direction.

The photo session started off well, but quickly deteriorated into chaos, with four little ones in various states of refusal to cooperate. Theo was the only one who didn't resist, but only because he didn't know he was supposed to.

When it was time for our immediate family portrait, I held Theo and Nate held Simon. Simon was burying his head in Nate's shoulder, hiding his face and thereby effectively preventing any pictures from being taken. A host of helpers stood behind the photographer, trying to get Simon to look at them. They pulled out all the stops, jumping, clapping, engaging in dinosaur-related discussions. Nothing worked. Finally, when the crowd had run out of ideas, Nate quietly said, "Simon, remember that show we watched when the bird cleaned up his area and then did a little dance?" Instantly, the face came out of hiding, grinning and telling everyone about the silly bird he saw. Brilliant daddy. Later, Nate told me that the bird idea had been in reserve for a while, he had just been waiting for everyone to shut up.

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

The bird who cleaned up his mating-display area in the rain forest was introduced to us by a program called Planet Earth. I've heard that Oprah gave big props to this show, so we are probably the only ones who haven't seen it already. We finally saw the first episode this weekend, and it was amazing. Our favorite part was the cleaning/dancing bird. There is also a scene in which a herd of elephants, having finally found water after a long, dry trip, swim jubilantly. Beautiful.

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

Today is the first pick-up for the CSA we signed up for months ago. From Henry's Farm we will get a bounty of fresh, organic vegetables. Delish. I'm excited about getting our veggies, but also a little nervous about finding ways to use everything. It would be sad to waste what I expect to be perfectly marvelous produce, and I know it will take some planning to avoid throwing away even one sprig of parsley.

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

As I mentioned earlier, I am no thinner now than I was in November. This standstill has occurred despite my best efforts, a combination of exercise and Weight Watchers. I don't mind exercise. It's hard to find time for it, but I don't mind it. I rather enjoy it. My big struggle is with the food. I love food, and I have a hard time telling myself no.

In the last few months I have been discouraged. I have seriously contemplated giving up, accepting my bigger size, and shopping for some clothes that fit my new, larger body.

But then I think, no, I really don't want to be this size right now. I can be this size when I'm 45, but now? Now I want to get those boxes down from the attic. I want to be a cute and healthy mama. So currently I am engaged in a last-ditch, all-out effort to get this weight off. Nate and I have agreed that as soon as I lose 20 pounds (or fit comfortably into my old clothes, whichever comes first),I can get a new tattoo. Even with this incredibly desirable inky incentive dangling before me, I can't seem to keep spoonfuls of ice cream from finding their way into my mouth.

Since I can't control my eating, my strategy is simply to spend enough calories to override my food intake. Here is the summer schedule: get up around 5:30, pack up the stroller, then snatch Theo out of bed. (He's usually awake anyway). Theo and I walk from 6 am to 7 am, returning just in time for Nate to leave for work. Then the boys and I go to the basement where I do a short (30 minutes) aerobic tape, usually with a weight-training focus. Later in the day, after dinner, I try to expend some more calories, with a walk, bike ride, or workout tape. All I can say is, this regimen had better work fast, as I can see serious burn-out just over the horizon.

My biggest fantasy these days is to go on The Biggest Loser ranch. They've been showing reruns of that show on the Style channel, and it taunts me. I know I'm not nearly big enough to qualify for that show, but it would be awesome to spend a month on the ranch, where losing 5 pounds in 7 days is considered a bad week. Personal trainers and a controlled food environment would make it so much easier, I think. Two or three weeks there, and this whole year-long battle would be over. If only I had a rich benefactor who could send me away to fat camp, all my woes would end. Sigh... a girl can dream, can't she?

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

In Theoville, we have toothage. He was a bit slow with the teeth-growing, I have to say. But he finally has one popping out on the top. It is very cute, and was dutifully noted in the baby book.

Here is a picture of Theo crawling into the play kitchen. He removed the box of toys that was in the bottom compartment, then removed the plastic sink, then crawled in and stuck his head through. Once he was up there, he promptly pulled the pictures off the wall. Pretty humorous, and a perfect example of the kind of hijinks this kid pulls on an hourly basis. He is nuts.

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

We've been struggling with Simon for the past few weeks. There are a couple issues rearing their heads: First, he loves to pester his brother. There is constant, endless pushing, prodding, pinching, squeezing, and toy-snatching. It drives me up a wall, and lately the two words that most often leave my mouth (accompanied by an angry to annoyed tone of voice) are, "Simon, don't...." At the same time, we have had a lot of asserting wishes and voicing opposition. We are not opposed to these two things on their own merits, but when they take the form of a shrieked, "NO! I DON'T WANT TO!!!!!!!" well, then we are opposed. We are both opposed and offended. Something needed to be done.

What we are trying can be called "Good Choice / Bad Choice." We have two bowls, each with ten stones in them. One has a sticker with a happy face (representing a good choice), and one has a sticker with a sad face (representing a bad choice). The stones move from bowl to bowl as good and bad choices are recognized. When all the stones are in the good choice bowl, there will be a reward of a one-on-one outing with mom or dad. So far it is a great tool. It forces us to look for moments of goodness from our firstborn, which, let's face it, can get completely lost amid baby-pummelling and voice-raising. It also gives a solid consequence to bad choices, which is better than relying on our disapproving [read: angry] words only.

Here is a picture of the bowls. It is poor. Forgive me.

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

Also forgive this very long post.

I'll try to balance it with a shorter post later today.

strawberry boys.

2007-05-25T14:28:00.001-05:00

Theo really enjoyed his first taste of strawberry. He had three or four more after this one.

Simon never actually tasted his strawberry. This is an act for the camera. As you've already learned, he's saving such pleasures for when he is ten.

Have a great long weekend, everyone.

xoxo

As promised...

2007-05-24T09:48:00.000-05:00

... pictures. I am a woman of my word.

Theo has picked up this goofy little smile lately. There's really nothing little about it. As smiles go, it's totally over the top.

I love this picture. Nate thinks it's weird that his eyes aren't showing. He doesn't understand my artistic vision.

Here is Simon at his recital. His efforts shifted between singing the songs along with his class and policing the various sources of noise around him. The boy standing next to him was making Spiderman sound-effects and Simon reminded him of what he was supposed to be singing. At one point, Simon looked at me, sitting in the front row, and I silently mouthed to him, "Good job." Even though I didn't make any actual noise, I was shushed by my son.

He had fun. I think he felt very proud.

Theo is enjoying a lot of finger foods lately. He is messy.

Simon has taken up coloring. He used to be utterly bored by this activity, so it's interesting to me that's he's really taken to it now. Always evolving, these crazy kids...

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

Today is Simon's last day of school. So it's the last time I can watch mediocre movies on TBS while he's in class and Theo is napping. Today's feature is Up Close and Personal. I'm looking forward to Simon's summer break, even though we don't have any special plans. Summer vacation means less structure to our week, and that's not a bad thing.

Last night I took my first solo bike ride with Simon in the trailer. We went to the library, maybe 2 miles away. I felt okay. I was a little nervous, and there was a hill that absolutely kicked my ass. I moved up that hill at a snail's pace. I seriously think that, given proper knee protection, Theo could have crawled up that hill faster than I rode my bike. Still, I did it. I don't know if I can make the bike my main vehicle, but I am going to try to use it more and more.

Later, gators.

2007-05-21T18:44:00.000-05:00

Simon is a very picky eater. We try to keep it light. We don't wage war over food. Once in a while we'll tell him that we didn't like ________ (tomatoes, beans, etc.) when we were his age, either. Maybe he'll like _______ (strawberries, watermelon, on and on) when he's older, we'll say. As he watched me eat some grapes tonight, we had this exchange.

-Mom, when I'm ten, I will love strawberries and grapes.

-Okay, great. But, you know, if you want, you can love them now.

-Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!

He's Strong, He's Fast, He's Everywhere...

2007-05-21T10:25:00.000-05:00

He's Theo.

We got an email this morning urging us to blog more often. As I read it, I was trying to figure out what had kept me from writing for the last few weeks. And after some thought, I've decided to blame it on my baby.

Theo has become a serious contender for attention in this house. He still has an extremely pleasant nature, but I don't think I would call him an "easy" baby any more. He climbs too damn much. Mere months ago, I could trust him to go about his baby business as I went about mine. Now he requires nearly constant supervision. Thus, the blog suffers.

Here are a few highlights from the last few weeks, in a convenient list:

- Taking occasional bike rides after dinner, trying to get up the nerve to use my bike as transportation. It's scary, though, since nobody expects bikes on the road around here, and they all drive like bats out of hell. Bad combo. But I still want to try.

-Experimenting with a small grill our neighbors let us borrow. I've made a point of learning to do it myself, instead of relying on Nate. We already fill our quota of traditional gender roles. I didn't want to add the ritual of manly grilling to the list. But we still make some manner of grunting joke every time he goes out to check on the grill.

-Attended Simon's spring program last week. He sang with his class for about 10 minutes, and he did a great job. Moments like that are a perk of motherhood that I didn't anticipate... the overwhelming, face-beaming, heart-singing pride that naturally accompanies such an event. Lovely.

-Nate likes his job. When he gets home at 5, he is awake and happy to see us --- an enormous change from the grumpy, groggy hellos we used to say in the afternoon.

So, a short list. I'll try to be here more often. And maybe some pictures soon. Adios for now.

Last Night with the Boogey Man

2007-04-25T23:28:00.000-05:00

Tonight will be Nate's last time to work the graveyard shift.

After this one last night alone, I'll finally have another adult in the house with me all night. I couldn't be happier.

I am a scaredy-cat. I am afraid to be by myself at night, and I have gone to asleep afraid every weeknight for the past 8 months. Maybe it's because I have never lived by myself, or maybe my parents let me watch too much violence on TV as a youngster, but I can imagine the most horrifying things happening when I am in bed, alone in this big house. Of course, the boys are here, but they don't count. They can't protect me; on the contrary, it is my charge to protect them, and their tragic, grisly demise is always part of my morbid fantasies.

What am I afraid of, exactly? Anything. Everything. Mostly scenarios in which crazed lunatics break down the door with the sole intention of inflicting violence on whoever is inside. I know this is fucked up. I know I should try to get over it. But right now I am fighting mental battles on so many fronts --- trying to lose weight, trying to be a patient and fair mother, trying to be a good person in general --- I just don't have the energy to devote to quelling these ridiculous fears. Instead, I've been waiting it out. I knew Nate wouldn't be on third shift forever. And now I have one more night to be freaked out by every odd shadow, every creaky floorboard. One more night. Tomorrow morning I'll be a very happy woman.

We drove our new car home yesterday. A Chevy Malibu Maxx. (It's actually a 2006, for anyone who cares). Nate did all the research and shopping; I just picked out the color. It's white, in honor of a white Toyota I used to have and drove to death.

Tonight my brother and sister-in-law are babysitting so we can make another foray into the strange world of work clothes. Nate wanted me to come with him so we can pool our fashion knowledge. Even though he'll soon be just another midwestern man in the office, he doesn't want to dress like one. He wants to look sharp, and I say Amen to that.

So, after we buy some more work attire, we'll be ready for this change. We're excited.

Well, we're mostly excited. Nate is nervous about controlling his swearing as he transitions to the office. In the warehouse, workers are free to let fly any colorful expression they can dream up. But Nate suspects the expectations the office will be different. He's probably right. But I know he'll be fine. He can keep it in check in front of our parents and (usually) the kids. So all he needs to do is keep a tight lip for the first couple of weeks, feel it out, and then let loose, with or without swearing as the situation dictates. I predict there will be a fair amount of cussing even in this more glossy environment. If watching The Wire has taught me anything, it's that drug dealers and councilmen alike enjoy a good "shiiiiiiiiiiiiit," now and again.

For my part, I am dreading the extra hour or two of solitary childcare a day. Right now Nate gets up at 4 pm. He's not really awake for another hour, but if I pester him enough, he can help out. But when he starts his new job, he probably won't be home until 5:30 or 6:00 pm. Sometimes later. This fills me with anchor-in-the-gut-dread, as dinner is, bar none, the most hectic part of the day. I'm going to have to get more organized, maybe do some dinner prep during afternoon nap. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but here we go: In order to get the boys to bed at the time I want, I'm going to have to have dinner on the table when Nate gets home. Oh my god, I'm really a housewife now. Just give me some pumps and an apron, and I'll be good to go. We'll see how it all works out... I might have to use the TV a little more than I'd like to get through these additional hours alone.

Third shift wasn't all that bad. We got used to it. I think we adjusted well. There are even a couple things I will miss about it. For example, when it was time to take Simon to school but it was also time for Theo's nap, I could leave him because, technically, someone was in the house (even if that someone was asleep). Now Theo will have to come to and from school with us every time, even though it will cut his nap short and I absolutely hate that.

Also, I have to say it was nice to have someone else in the house all day, who could be woken up in case of emergency. I can only remember one time that I had to wake Nate up. It was the time I discovered piles of shit all over Simon's room. Shit smeared on the floors and walls, shit caked on toys. All of this, but an inexplicably clean little boy. "Simon, what happened?" I asked, simultaneously feeling the urge to vomit, cry, and punch a door frame. "My animals were taking a mud bath." What, I never told you that story? I guess it was because I was trying so hard to BLOCK IT OUT. Anyway, at that moment in time, it was nice to be able to storm into the bedroom and say, "Get up. I'm about to explode. I need help." And, groggily, he came to the rescue.

It probably goes without saying that the benefits of this new normal-hours job will far outweigh any advantages of the third shift job. We are very ready.

It will be great to go to bed without a knot of terror in my stomach. Oh, and spooning with my guy as we fall asleep together. That will be nice too.

Retreat Review

2007-04-25T22:35:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the jokes and suggestions, everybody. I had myself some good chuckles. For the retreat, I decided to stick with the Harper's list of malapropisms, because I wasn't confident in my ability to tell a joke. It turned out that many women at the retreat shared my insecurity. At least half of the thirty attendees echoed some variation of "Well, I just have this list of botched church bulletin announcements because I'm not very good at telling jokes." (Seriously, I love the church bulletin humor. These can make me laugh until I hurt. Is it just me?)

There was one woman, though, who had no trouble telling a joke. Her name is Gwen, and I would guess her at 70. She told us that, for more than twenty years, at 9 am every Saturday morning, she and her mother would exchange jokes over the phone. She had a huge notebook full of them! I absolutely love that a mother and daughter would do that. Love it.

I had a great retreat weekend. Laughed until my face was aching, karaokied to "We Built This City," and "Bust a Move," and kayaked on Lake Springfield.

I'm really glad I went. It's amazing to be surrounded by women of all ages who are all so wonderful, so witty and vibrant. Despite my ambivalence about God, the opportunity to meet such a group of women is reason enough to continue going to church. That's what I learned this weekend. Also, I learned that my boys' childhood will be incomplete if we don't buy a couple of kayaks. They are so fun!

Make Laura Laugh Challenge

2007-04-17T13:35:00.000-05:00

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to send me a joke or short story that is both funny and appropriate to take to a church retreat. Granted, this is a pretty progressive church, but I still have to read this aloud to older, church ladies. So let's keep it appropriate, shall we?

Friday evening I leave for a women's retreat with ladies from church. When we moved down here, I sincerely intended to keep attending the retreats of our old church (in Chicago) as a way to stay in touch. And while I think that idea was nice in its way, I'm realizing that I need to make connections here if I'm ever going to get over leaving Chicago. I hope I can make some friends from our new church and also have a relaxing weekend.

The theme for the retreat is "She Who Laughs, Lasts." We're supposed to bring a "joke or very short story" to share with the group. The all-A student in me wants to bring something really great, that will have everybody rolling in the aisles. I have a list of funny school-work mistakes from Harper's, but I'm open to something better. If you have some time to kill, search the ol' ninnernet and find me something funny! Thanks.

Buying Power and Will Power

2007-04-17T10:46:00.000-05:00

One way in which third shift kind of worked toward our advantage was that Nate could use the car to get to work at night, and then it would be at home with me during the day. But when Nate starts his new job on May 1, I will be stranded. I do want to start using a bike to get around some, but in Central Illinois, you just can't get everywhere on a bike. In Chicago, yes, but Bloomington is simply not a bike-friendly town. Plus, I still go to my folks' at least once a week to keep my dad company, and I definitely need to drive there in a motor vehicle. Thus, at long last, we'll become a two car family.

Nate is obsessively researching cars for me. Generally speaking, I don't have strong opinions on cars, though Nate might disagree with me on that count. It seems like whenever he sets his mind on the best car, I find some reason to veto it (it's not on purpose, honey, I swear). We've finally narrowed it down to three choices. Sometime soon we'll go look at them in person and then we'll be signing away a good bit of our newly earned income. I want a wagon. Not a van. I will never succumb to the pressure to be a minivan mom. That is probably the only strong feeling I have about the kind of car I want. Not a van. And not an SUV. Okay, I guess maybe I do have some opinions.

Yesterday I bought the couch. I absolutely love the frame, but I'm incredibly nervous about the fabric I picked. I could go on and on about the decision process, but I know that's not interesting to anyone but me. Suffice it to say, I agonized over the choice. In the end I went with my first instinct, the one I liked more than all the others, simply on its own merits as a fabric. Now I am nervous about how it will look in the room, and am frantically shopping for rug and curtains that will compliment the couch but not look too matchy-matchy (a process complicated by the fact that my budget for these items is cheap to very cheap, and there's just not a lot of fabulousness to be had in that price range). Basically, I have no idea what I'm doing. Hopefully it will all come together in a way that I like. There's no way Nate will let me buy a third set of curtains in as many months if the ones I pick now end up looking wrong. I'll have to live with the wrongness for a long, long time. Anyway, all decorating concerns aside, we'll have a new couch in 8 weeks. None too soon.

Today my shoulders and back muscles are sore, thanks to two consecutive early-morning Tae Bo sessions. I'm back on the wagon, eating well and exercising, but trying to listen to my body and be more balanced in both areas. I'm also trying not to watch TV. I got some audio books at the library, and I want to listen to those in my downtime instead of turning on the TV. I still plan to watch all of our weekly favorites (Lost, The Office, 30 Rock, etc). But I'm trying to cut out the mindless TV watching --- aimlessly channel surfing, switching between The Search for the Next Doll and Style channel reruns. I have so much I want to do, and TV really eats up my time and energy for getting things done. So far, so good.

Next task for my willpower to conquer is my terrible nail biting. I don't know if I'm strong enough for that one, though. Might have to make a hypnosis appointment. (Funny thing: Nate was staunchly against hypnosis for purposes of weight loss, but for nail biting he thought it was worth a shot. He really hates when I bite my nails.)

Look for me in the self-help section.

2007-04-15T13:07:00.000-05:00

I know I've written before about how much I love a good parenting book. I am unabashed in my reliance on said books, because Lord knows I don't want to parent my kids based on my instincts alone (since my instinct is often to strangle somebody).

Now I am reading a different kind of book, in the hopes of developing a healthy relationship with food. I've been trying to do Weight Watchers since September, and I've lost 25 pounds. That's pretty good. I worked hard, I did it, yea me and all that. The problem is that I gained 50 pounds during my pregnancy, so I still have at least 20 to go if I ever want to unpack those famous boxes in the attic. But I'm stuck. I've been losing and gaining the same 5 pounds for months now. I have a nasty habit of eating really carefully for a few days, a week, or whatever, then going nuts on a carton of ice cream or slamming down a whole pan of brownies. It's incredibly frustrating to realize, week after week, that I have sabotaged myself once again.

I tried to talk Nate into letting me undergo hypnosis to override my binging tendencies. Since he wouldn't go for it, I went to the library to look for some books to help me. I admit I felt slightly embarrassed checking out titles like The Rules of Normal Eating, Why Can't I Stop Eating, and When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies. I just felt like such a typical fat American woman. But maybe, if I can master the ideas in these books, I can stop obsessing about food and just eat in a healthy, moderate way. And maybe I could actually like my body, whatever the scale reads. That would really be turning a new leaf. Healthy, confident, beautiful new leaf.

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

It's amazing how babies change so fast. I had to laugh when I read my last post... not because Theo isn't a good baby anymore; he is, of course. But he's no longer such an easy baby. Probably two days after I wrote that glowing review, he became a climber. And I mean a serious climber, not just playing around on the first step. Suddenly he can climb all the way up the stairs in the blink of an eye. We've had to start keeping the door to the stairwell closed, and this does not please our little mountain climber. We've heard more whining and fussing about the inaccessible stairs than we've heard in the previous 8 months of his life combined.

He's also trying to pull up on anything taller than him. As a result, he's having his fair share of accidents. He tries to pull up on drawers and they pinch his fingers. He tries to pull up on chairs and pulls them down, pinning himself to the floor. Basically, that happy baby who we used to forget was in the room now requires close supervision. Not a bad thing, just a change. One last thing: I mentioned that he was easy to get to sleep, remember? Now he is so in love with pulling up to standing in his crib that he can't get to sleep. Even after he's deliriously tired, he can't stop pulling up. The boy fiends for that vertical high.

So we're learning to live with a climber. He's still the best baby I know.

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

Tomorrow we are going to buy a new couch! Here's a picture. Cute, huh? We are very excited. Our current couch is the pits. Sitting on it does not so much resemble sitting as it does some kind of ancient mind-over-pain meditation practice. And sleeping? Forget about it. We'll be grateful to have some soft cushions supporting our rumps again.

Blog as Baby Book

2007-04-10T09:46:00.000-05:00

I've noticed that Theo nary gets a mention on this here blog. I think he gets overlooked because he's so easy-going. If he kept me up all night and was inconsolable by day, I'd probably complain about it here. As things are, he kind of stays under my "blog-worthy moments" radar.

But this baby is fantastic. Really, he is. He's quick with a smile or a giggle, he's easy to comfort, easy to put to sleep. Basically, anything you could want in a baby, he's got it times ten. Even though I can't properly convey his sweet spirit through this medium, I can at least chronicle some of his latest endeavors.

He is always crossing his feet, whether he's sitting in a chair or relaxing on his tummy. I don't know why, but I find his feet-crossing so utterly adorable; it makes me want to eat him up.

Since around his fifth month, he's been so active, such an explorer. He doesn't do a traditional crawl; he prefers the "army crawl." His tummy stays on the ground, and he pulls with his arms and pushes off the floor with his toes. He can drag his 18 lbs across a room with surprising speed.

Lately he has been pulling up on anything he can reach. Yesterday he pulled up straight as a pin using the dishwasher door for support.

The past few days, if I don't know where he's wandered off to, the first spot I check is the bottom of the stairs. He spends a lot of time there, pulling up on the stairs, carefully getting down, then pulling up again. He's like an athlete in training.

Not surprisingly, since Theo has taken up residence in this nook, his big brother can often be found there as well. Simon doles out an equal amount of pestering and loving. I tend to only take pictures of the latter.

He is a great little boy, with such a winning personality already. I can't wait to see what he's like at 2, 3, 4, etc. It saddens me to think that so few of our friends are experiencing his babyhood. Many of you knew Simon at this age, and yet Theo is a stranger to you (even Celeste, who witnessed his entrance into the world). So I guess I should try to post more about him, to give you a glimpse of his wonderfulness.

Also, visits would solve this problem. Visits, people, visits!

When the third-shift factor is eliminated, in about 3 weeks, it should be easier for us to make weekend trips up to Chi-town. But, seriously, if you aren't already planning on it (see you soon, Seeleys!), you should consider a trip down here. Visiting Bloomington will up your chances of seeing Theo at his best, as babies always perform better on their home turf.

Documenting the Daily Battle

2007-04-09T09:23:00.000-05:00

As a mother (especially as a mother of two), I have always struggled to balance the demands on my time. At countless moments throughout any given day, I am trying to decide how best to spend my time.

Should I play with my boys?

(love the way they're both crossing their toes)

Should I devote time to housework?

(when the dishes in the dishwasher haven't been put away, dirty dishes have nowhere to go)

Can I rightfully spend some time on myself?

(new workout dvd's, which I requested instead of candy in my Easter basket; latest embroidery project)

From reading I've done and conversations I've had, I believe many mothers put themselves last on the list. Not me. For me, the house comes last. The housework is always there, and somehow it gets done eventually, only to start piling up again. Even though it drives me crazy to have a disheveled house, I'll gladly use my free time (the boys' afternoon rest time, for instance) to do some crafting instead of tackling the growing piles of laundry. Is it laziness or self-preservation? I don't know.

Anyway, this morning, even though the kitchen looked like this...

(witness, every last inch of counter space covered in things that need to be cleaned or put away)

...and the laundry looked like this...

(dirty)

(clean, but not put away)

... the winner of the constant battle for my time was Simon and this new toy, a gift for Easter. I had a marble maze toy when I was young, and Nate did too. What about you?
What a great toy. Watching Simon race his marbles with bated breath was far more gratifying than a clean kitchen could ever be.

There will always be dirty dishes. Four year old boys enthralled by physics? I think not.

Hell yeah.

2007-04-08T21:48:00.000-05:00

On Monday, Nate had an interview for an office job at Cat. We went shopping for something for him to wear, because his wardrobe is sorely lacking in appropriate office attire. It took us several hours; the world of suit pants and shirts with collar measurements is completely foreign to us. He felt good about the interview, and we thought we'd have to wait at least a week to find out whether he got the job.

We were wrong about that, though. The call came on Friday. He's in!

This job is going to change our lives, and that's no joke. First of all, we're done with third shift, probably forever. More importantly, the salary for this job will double our income. DOUBLE.

The possibility of a job like this is the reason we moved down here. I still miss Chicago like hell, but seeing Nate so happy after that phone call made me think that maybe we're in the right place. We'll finally be able to get off the dole, which has been generously administered by Nate's parents since we were married. They have been the most amazing people to take money from... completely unconditional in their giving, never any strings or judgement, only assistance. They are fantastic, for many reasons. We're going to take them out to dinner soon to thank them for everything.

On his new job, Nate would like to add this:

"I really make cake, you can call me Duncan Hines"

-Cam'ron

Maybe he'll have to change his moniker from Dow Jones to Duncan Hines.

Send him some congratulations, ya'll.

2007-03-30T10:00:00.000-05:00

I haven't been spending much time in front of the computer lately. We've been stationed on the front porch. We absolutely adore our swing.
And here is some porch furniture we picked out of somebody's garbage. At all times in Bloomington, there is an inordinate amount of furniture set out on the curb. It's weird.

I thought free was the perfect price for porch furniture. This way I don't have to worry if it gets damaged or snatched. We're going to try to eat out here as much as possible.

I FINALLY finished this piece of embroidery for my friend Bonnie. It's only 3 months late.

It was really hard to get a good picture of this. It's a bit brighter than it looks here. The main design (the text and the Luckenbooth) didn't take that long. I decided to add a background design in white, for extra texture and prettiness, and that is what I worked on for the past few months. It took many, many hours. You can see it better in the second picture. Can you see it here? I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, but I don't expect to ever tackle such a big project again. From here on out I'm all about smaller projects and faster gratification.

The next step with this piece is to wash, iron, and mount it onto some matte board I had cut to the correct size. Then I'll take it somewhere to be framed. I am terrified at the prospect of these next tasks. I've never done them before, and I can think of about a thousand ways that the process could go awry. And if I ruin this, it will be a sad, sad day in our house.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Here are a few pics of the boys, just for kicks. Here is Theo climbing into the bottom of his bouncy saucer and getting stuck. You can see on his face that he's just realized he can't move, and he doesn't much care for it. That was a few weeks ago. Now he can crawl through the bottom of that thing like it's as level as the rest of the floor.

Here we have the classic messy baby in highchair photo, though he doesn't look as messy as I remember him looking at the time.
One other thing of note here is the food on his tray. Cheerios, chopped up raisins, avocado, and pineapple. Basically whatever I could find in the kitchen and make into small enough pieces, I gave to him. I would've never done that with Simon. With Simon, I had a very narrow idea of what babies could eat, namely anything that came in a jar or box that said "Baby Food." With Theo, we are trying to expand that notion, with the hopes that letting him try a wider variety of foods from this tender age will influence him to be less picky than his big brother.

And, finally, here is Simon. We had this big red dinosaur blown up and tied to the porch on the day of his party. A few days later, as it deflated, he took to using it as a recliner. Looks comfy, doesn't it?

Potential New Theme Song

2007-03-29T17:09:00.000-05:00

Da Backwudz-"Makin Money Counting Hundreds"

Happy Birthday, Dinosaur!

2007-03-20T10:15:00.000-05:00

We had a beautiful day on Saturday for the dinosaur party. I was so happy with how everything came together; I think it was the best party I have thrown to date.

I spent a lot of time on the decorations. I cut out sixteen of these big dinosaurs silhouettes and then made hats for them. I really love how they turned out. At 1 am Saturday morning, it seemed crazy to be twisting streamers instead of going to bed. But on party day, after a few hours of rest, I was glad I stayed up. Spending a lot of time on decorations might seem silly to some... after all, there are so many other things to do: clean the house, make food, prepare activities. But I willingly invest time in decorating because it pleases me enormously to see the party space looking bright and festive.

Here the birthday boy sneaks some popcorn before the party starts.
This year was the first time I planned a game for the kids, and it was a blast. About a week before the party, I cooked up a batch of homemade play dough. Then I formed eggs around some teeny plastic dinosaurs. I left the eggs sitting on a desk all week, turning them on occasion, so the play dough could dry out. At the party, the kids hunted for the eggs, then took them into the kitchen to the special archaeological exploration corner. There were little hammers and brushes to crack the eggs and clean off the discoveries. The kids loved it. I was excited that it worked so well.

My brother brought this old Halloween mask, and it was a big hit. Click over to Janna's blog and check out the amazing pictures she posted featuring the cutest little dinosaur head ever.

During the week before the party I talked to Simon several times about saying "Thank you" for each gift he received. I'm probably hyper-concerned about this because in my own childhood, on at least two occasions, I remember my mom expressing great disappointment in my level of gratefulness at a party. Anyway, after a few conversations and a quick reminder on party morning, I still imagined Simon would be a crazed gift-opening beast, tearing through each package, tossing it aside, and yelling, "Next!" I was so wrong. He only needed a few nudges to remember to say Thanks, and, more impressive, he let his friends help him unwrap his presents. He didn't have an ounce of "gimme, gimme" or "it's mine" in him. I was incredibly pleased and proud.

Here was the cake, not homemade, but delicious. We forgot to do candles on the cake, so this morning we had some birthday pancakes, candles, and a quick song.

I'm about to mist over now, thinking about my little baby, growing up. Saturday was a great day, and so was today, his actual birthday. And of course days like these make me think of a day four years ago, when the Chicago sky was grey and crying rain, and I was exhausted in a hospital room. Only four years ago, but I was a different person then. Young, scared, and unsure in the midst of transition. In a way I grew up while Simon grew. He began to crawl; I crawled away from a faith that wasn't working for me. He started to take steps that were small but confident; I developed self-awareness and confidence like I'd never had before, not to mention becoming a confident Chicago driver. All this blather to say something simple and completely unoriginal: my life changed the day that baby boy was born. The places he has taken me were ones I never imagined possible. Imagining where he will go in the future is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Future Simon, if you are reading this, I love you, kiddo, more than I can say, and I'll never love you less. Only more and more. Happy birthday dinosaur.

Funk, Be Gone!

2007-03-12T14:40:00.000-05:00

The last several weeks have been long and rather dark. A nasty cold made its way through our house, starting with Theo, moving on to Nate and Simon, and finally finding me. As I said, it was a heinous cold, and it led to our boys having their first ear infections. That's right --- two ear infections at the same time. Those were a couple of exhausting days. Thankfully, everyone is healthy now. And it's spring!!!

I could not be more happy about the seasons changing. I've been in a bad place lately, in a bit of a funk. I know it's been eight months since the move, and you all have listened to me complain about leaving Chicago many, many times. But, for unknown reasons, I have been pining for the city lately. I miss the boulevards, the parks, the air, the light. I feel incredibly painful nostalgia for our old routines... walking to the store, the park, or the library, letting Simon run free in Palmer Square, stopping by Miko's for a sweet treat, driving down Fullerton.

Along with this nostalgia comes some guilt, because, of course, all of these activities involved only one child. I love Theo. Yet I long for the time before he was born. How can I reconcile those feelings? What I miss, I think, is the carefree nature of the days before two children. And, despite loving the heck out of this new little boy, we haven't figured out how to recapture that easygoing rhythm to our days. Instead of walks and frolicking sessions, the days seem to fill up with meals, naps, diaper changes, etc.

There is no doubt that caring for two children is considerably harder than caring for one. But I think part of my problem is that I am not very flexible. Admittedly, I am obsessed with proper naps for the little one. And keeping the boys out past their 7 pm bedtime will put my stomach in knots. But sticking to such a strict schedule doesn't leave a lot of room for the spontaneous family activities I yearn for. I think I'm either going to have to schedule things like family walks, or I'm going to have to loosen my grip on the structure of our days. Or maybe I'll do some of both.

Today I knew we had to get outside. The sun was shining and I think it was 60 degrees or maybe warmer. I rushed around to get everybody ready to go out immediately after Theo woke from his morning nap. I had to pack quite a load of goods... it was 12 noon by the time we left, so I had to pack snacks and drinks for everybody. But all the hassle was WELL WORTH IT. We had an amazing walk. If I'd had a time-lapse camera set on Simon, I think I would've captured him growing a few centimeters, blooming in the sunshine after months of being cooped up. Theo sat up in the stroller for the first time, and babbled happily as long as his chariot was in motion. I felt relieved, elevated, invigorated.

During the funk of the past few weeks, Nate and I talked through my feelings, as is our way. He kept suggesting that maybe it wasn't so much pining for our lost city as it was a nasty case of cabin fever. After our walk today I think he may have been onto something.

Next up: Dinosaur Party! Saturday is the big 4th Birthday celebration. I'll report back, with loads of pictures, for sure.

I Have a Theme Song Too

2007-02-22T18:59:00.000-06:00

My stomach has given me troubles all my life. I remember being hunched over my desk in grade school, feeling like I was going to pass out from how much my stomach hurt. So imagine how delighted I was when I heard "I.B.S." by Cam'ron, a song all about his stomach troubles.

This is especially relevant right now, because last Friday my stomach pains sent me to the emergency room. I was sure I had appendicitis but I guess it was just my gastritis flaring up really bad, or possibly an ulcer. (Luckily I don't have I.B.S. like Killa Cam. Also, the doctors didn't suspect I was a junkie. Basically the only things that Cam'ron and I seem to have in common is our stomachs that hurt, our love of rap music, and our hatred of 50 Cent/Curtis .) The severe pain I was experiencing on Friday night went away in a few hours, but since then I have been experiencing symptoms that I haven't had since I was a teenager. I saw a doctor about my stomach for the first time ever on Monday, and now I have medicine to take for it. I just started taking it yesterday, and I think it has started to help, but I'm hoping it will continue to improve. They say it can take up to four days to totally kick in.

Here's another song, just because I like it.

Recovery as Roller Coaster

2007-02-16T12:13:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was a good day. Long, but good. I was at my parents' house along with my mom and grandma. It's amazing how much easier it is when the work is shared. I helped my dad do his exercises again, which I had been dreading ever since the first time I attempted that task. He was much stronger this time, stayed awake, and gave me hell for making him work so hard. At dinner, he was the most talkative, the most himself that I have seen him since the stroke. I drove back home after dinner, tired but encouraged. After the deep down lows of the previous day, I unexpectedly found my heart's eyes gazing timidly upwards.

Yesterday Nate's mom came over bearing Valentine's gifts for her grandsons. Mere moments before she arrived, Nate and I had engaged in a long discussion regarding Theo's need for new shoes (his little feet keep growing, go figure). We were trying to decide if the best baby shoes ever would fit into our budget. It was quite the back and forth.

Guess what Theo got for Valentine's day??? Right! Beautiful providence.

Simon got this camera, and I'm not sure who is having the most fun with it, him or us. Here are some of his original works to take you into the weekend. Prints available for purchase, contact us for sizes and pricing.

On Comfort

2007-02-14T18:43:00.000-06:00

The last time I saw my family was on Thursday. I spent the whole day there with Theo. For several hours in the morning, I was responsible for looking after my dad by myself. Around lunch time my sister and her kids came over, then in the evening the house really came to life as my mom and grandma arrived (mom had spent 10 hours, round trip, driving to pick her up; it was the first time my grandma had travelled further than the grocery store or Wal-Mart in 7 years), and then my brother and his wife joined the crowd.

The morning was hard, really hard for me, the worst day yet since the stroke. Seeing my dad at home made me realize how much has changed. In the hospital, a hospital bed is inconspicuous. In my parent's basement, a rented hospital bed screamed terrible things to me... sickness, convalescence, immobility. In the hospital, my dad's sleepiness somehow seemed natural. I guess I thought, what else would he do? He's stuck in a bed all day, he may as well rest. I'd probably do the same. Now that he's home, his exhaustion continues and is even growing. Now I can't chalk it up to boredom or the nature of hospital stays. Instead, I have to remember that he's sleepy all the time because he had a stroke. Seeing my dad back in his house, in the basement where he spent so many, many hours of his pre-stroke life, draws such a stark contrast between the new and the old. I see him silent, heavy-eyed on the couch and I remember the dad who used to sit on the couch. Alert, sharp, loquacious.

As that morning wore on, the knot in my stomach grew. I started to learn about myself as a caregiver. There are things I can handle and things I cannot. Preparing food, washing hair, cleaning nails, taking phone calls: these things I can do. I am glad to do them, in fact, especially since the stroke my dad has become very sweet and affectionate. "Thank you, sweetheart." [reaches for my hand and pats it gently] "Thanks, baby." When I can do these little things for my dad, I am helpful, I am useful, I am a good daughter.

In other areas as a caretaker I felt like a monumental failure. When it came time to make my dad do his exercises (things that for most of us seem easy: bending knees, flexing/straightening ankles), I wanted to crawl under a rock and make protest signs that said, "Daughters shouldn't have to do this." Also there are only certain times, small windows, when my dad is allowed to watch television. Most of the time, we are supposed to talk to him, engage him, in order to aid his mind's recovery. Still, when my dad flipped on some soap operas, I couldn't tell him no. I sat there and watched with him, feeling sick. I knew I should be enforcing a better choice, but I was too timid to exert my new authority over him. I think I was a little scared, too, of finding something to talk about if the TV was off.

When my sister showed up around noon, I was so happy to see her. The knot in my stomach slowly released and, fighting back tears, I asked if she could be in charge of the next round of exercises.

The last two weeks have ushered in a new types and levels of stress for our family. I have been gone a lot, and emotional when I am at home. Nate has been amazing, sensitive, not complaining about extra chores or dinner times without me. If he's picked up any vices to deal with the strain, I haven't noticed. Simon has been mostly sheltered from the bad news, but inevitably he has taken note of my absence. There have been a few puking incidents recently, and, while there's no way to know, I suspect stress is the culprit, stirring up his little tummy. Theo is gloriously oblivious, of course.

I have been dealing with the stress in various ways. In the first week of the ordeal, driving to and from the hospital, I found great release in blasting music and alternating between singing loudly and shouting obscenities at other drivers. After a long day at the hospital, I could yell, "YOU'RE TOO SLOW FOR THE LEFT LANE, MOTHERFUCKER!" and feel the tension in my shoulders start to subside.

After the boys are in bed and Nate has gone to work, I watch Sex and the City reruns, as I have been doing for months. Now I laugh more heartily than I used to, and I also cry, cry, cry. Yeah, I'm sad about Charlotte's miscarriage, but it also just feels great to let the tears stream down my face and neck. I dab my nose on my shirt sleeve, not bothering to fetch a tissue until I'm sure I'm finished, certain the moment has passed.

Unfortunately, my greatest source of comfort throughout this time has been food. At the hospital, I made a daily trip to the ice cream shop downstairs, and I munched on the candy bouquets dropped off by visitors. At my parent's house, I had to really hunt for some comfort calories. My mom doesn't keep much junk around. Finally I found half a bag of chocolate chips. I lined them up like marching ants along counter tops and grabbed a few every time my heart buckled under the weight of my dad's condition. At home there are myriad things to choose from, things I normally would eat slowing, sparingly, I now grab 5 of at once (Ghirardelli squares, for instance). Some people drink alcohol. I prefer ice cream.

I know it will sound vain to bring this up as my father recovers from a brain attack, but turning to food for comfort is certainly not helping my weight loss efforts. I'm starting to lose hope that I'll ever unpack those boxes in the attic labeled "skinny clothes," or that I'll ever look in the mirror and see beautiful instead of bloated. That is vanity, yes, but also I fret about the future. I'm afraid that if I don't lose the rest of this baby weight now, and if I continue down this food-feels-like-a-big-hug path, it will have negative impacts on my health. And I don't want that. I want to be around, you know, just like everybody does.

What I need is a new stress release, a new habit deeply ingrained, that doesn't negatively affect my weight, health, or self-image. There are a lot to choose from, and some with which I already have experience. Yoga, for instance, would be a good alternative. The downside of yoga, though, is that it's hard to fit into my schedule. And it takes up too much space that would first need to be cleared of toys and stray Cheerios. What I need is something quick, something I can do any time, something the boys won't notice. Here is my idea: obsessive housecleaning. Like Monica on Friends. When I'm feeling blue, instead of reaching into the cupboard, I can scour the sink. My house would certainly benefit from this type of self-soothing. And possibly my waistline too. Now, how to override my urge to eat and replace it with an urge to clean? Is electroshock therapy the answer here? Acupuncture? Hypnosis? All too expensive. For costs that prohibitive, I could probably just have liposuction and be done with it. Or hire a personal trainer. I guess that's a little more reasonable.

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

Since I started writing this post, I've had some bad news. First of all, my mom is sick. Quite sick. This morning she couldn't stop vomiting and complained of the room spinning. How miserable. One of her neighbors, a nurse, was able to order a prescription to help her, which caused her to sleep all day. My poor mom. No doubt her new role as primary caregiver for her husband has taken a toll on her body. My sister was able to fill in for my mom today, and I'll be there all day tomorrow.

The other bad news is that my dad is not doing well, not improving. He is not responsive to my mom's or my grandma's efforts to help him. He has been refusing to do his exercises or take his pills. We are concerned that he could be depressed, or his personality could be changing, as stroke victim's personalities are apt to do. Either way, it doesn't seem good. After a stroke, the window for recovery is rather small. Whatever improvements are made in a three month period are likely to be the only improvements. That is to say, after three months are up, recovery will probably come to a standstill or a slow crawl. Because of this, stroke victims and their families are in a race against time, working to regain as much ground as possible before the clock strikes three months (that's why I felt so sick when I let him watch TV instead of engaging him in conversation like I was supposed to). So, in a race against time, it's imperative to move forward. Any backward motion is likely to send the participants into panic mode. That's where we are now, except that we try to keep up strong facades for each other. We are thinking of hiring in 24 hour care for him. Maybe a professional can motivate him in ways we cannot and help him get some forward momentum again.

After learning all of this, I felt ill all day. My stomach was like a rock polisher, heavy with worry and churning with fear. Maybe in addition to obesity, I should be worried about developing ulcers.

We didn't have any ice cream, and I knew I would get heartburn if I even looked at another square of dark chocolate. Can you guess what I did to get my mind off my troubles? I cleaned! I did a couple loads of laundry and I scrubbed the kitchen sink. And it kind of worked. I felt a little better. Maybe there's hope for my fat ass yet.

That's good, but I'd rather have more hope for my father.

Snow Day

2007-02-13T14:25:00.000-06:00

It's 7 pm, both of my boys are asleep, I'm watching Gilmore Girls, and eating bon bons. Well, dark chocolate squares, actually.... Ghirardelli's, my favorite.

Simon was supposed to have school this morning, and I was supposed to be the parent volunteer. I got up early and turned on the TV to see if we had school, even though I already knew, just by looking out the window, that it would be cancelled. The scrolling text underneath the local news anchors confirmed it: SNOW DAY! I'm a stay-at-home-mom. Staying at home is what I do every day, so the cancellation should have just meant another day at home alone with my boys. But I guess I'm still under the influence of childhood programming, because a snow day was exciting, invigorating, nearly thrilling. In honor of our snow day we wore sweat pants all day, bumped up the heat, made brownies, watched Nacho Libre, and just generally lazed about. It was fun. It is seriously snowy outside, blowing, drifting like crazy. It's been a long time since I've seen such a snow.

Nate, my third shift manly man, left for work last night and couldn't get back home because of the snow. He stayed at his sister's place all day and will go to work from there tonight. I hope he can get home tomorrow morning, or maybe in the afternoon, after he sleeps. Believe it or not, in this age of constant communication, I have no way to be in touch with him tonight. My phone is broken and his sister doesn't have internet access (I know, right?). Hopefully his sister will let him watch Veronica Mars at 8 pm, and our souls can be connected through our ardent love for television.

Hey, sweetheart, embroidering on the couch tonight won't be the same without your shoulder getting in the way of my needle and thread. Hurry home, baby, but not too fast on those snowy roads.

my kind of town

2007-02-11T21:00:00.000-06:00

Our weekend in Chicago had some ups and downs. We were simultaneously happy and sad to be back in the city. We couldn't help but daydream about how to get back, someday, somehow...

I fear we've become the world's most boring visitors; an afternoon spent with friends featured all four of us falling asleep. Sorry guys! Still, while we were awake, it was great to be with friends. GOD, I MISS HAVING FRIENDS.

Nate partied hardy for two nights, making people's feet happy with his DJ grooves late into the night (er, early into the morning, I guess). On Saturday night he even had a reunion with Jitney, and was welcomed back into the scene with cool stares and head nods, the warmest those hipsters know how to get.

While he enjoyed his celebrity status, I was trying to comfort a sick little boy. What I failed to mention about our sleepy visit is that it ended with Simon throwing up into a bowl of orange wedges (the closest thing I could grab when I heard that ominous sound). He was sick the rest of the night, and that is why we had to cut our trip a little short.

We had planned to attend a 1st birthday party this afternoon, in fact it was the impetus for the whole trip. But after Simon's troubles, we thought we should just head home.

All in all, a good trip. If we missed you, sorry. Hopefully we'll catch you next time we're up. Or, you are always welcome to visit us here. Simply name the date, friends.

Here is a picture of the gift we dropped off for Lily, the birthday girl. Just a box of little pretties, a bit of color, shape, and texture for her wall. I hope she'll like it for a while. I know some day she'll be too grown up for such whimsies.

But that's okay. I had fun making it, and I was glad to give it to it to such a sweet little lady.

We're back in Bloomington now, and it feels like home. But I predict I'll still go to bed dreaming of those Chicago streets.

Goodnight, all.

2007-02-07T20:39:00.000-06:00

My dad is home now.

He'll be getting some in-home nursing and physical therapy.

I have so, so much I could write about the past few days. But it's almost time for the (second) season premier of Lost. And who can concentrate on a cohesive post about stroke recovery when the fate of Benjamin Linus is about to be revealed?

Thank you all for your kind words and well-wishes. I appreciate them very much, more than I can say.

We are still planning to come to Chicago this weekend, to see friends and celebrate a special little girl's birthday. If you live in Chicago and are reading this, I hope we'll see you very soon.

Because I could use a little levity.

2007-02-03T09:05:00.000-06:00

One more dino picture, this time with props. I am going to get some wallet-sized prints of this and use them to make the invitations.

Everyone in this house is wiped out. Nate and I went to see my dad for a few hours yesterday. He was sleeping most of the time. He had been sedated earlier in the day for a test that involved swallowing a tube with a camera on the end. The doctors examined his heart and found a tiny hole. This means that a blood clot could have formed at the site of the fracture (ankle) and traveled all the way up to the brain. Without the tiny hole, it would have stopped in the heart, but the hole would've allowed it to pass over and continue going north. All of this is theoretical, it doesn't mean that the ankle break and the stroke are related, but it means they could be. I doubt that we'll ever know for sure.

We got home last night and put the boys to bed. A few hours later, Simon was up crying, complaining that his "bones hurt" and feeling terribly hot. We got him back to bed and he was up again shortly. This time he threw up all over himself and his mommy. The rest of the night was full of waking up, moaning, rocking, and tummy rubbing. None of us got much sleep, except for Theo, God bless him.

I hate having a sick child, but every time I pass the children's ward in the hospital, I am painfully thankful that my boys are typically quite healthy.

This post isn't turning out to contain much levity at all, except for that picture. Let's focus on those dinosaurs for a while. They are having a fun time.

Diagnosis & Prognosis

2007-02-01T17:38:00.000-06:00

On Sunday, my family went roller skating, part of a birthday celebration for my brother-in-law. The rink was old-school amazing: rainbow colored lights flashed frantically over the floor, loud pop music saturated every inch of the cool air in the room, walls were lined with arcade games, their noisy jingles muted by the pumping bass of the stereo. A middle-aged couple came in with their own skates in cases and glided effortlessly around and around. Chubby, adolescent girls dressed in tight shirts and reeked of insecurity. Young black men synchronized their moves both to the music and to each other. And, my personal favorite, one employee just could not stop dancing, whether she was taking money or pouring cheese over nachos.

I wondered what it would have been like to grow up a roller rink regular, as many of these kids so obviously were. I surely would've been one of the chubby girls, on the prowl for attention.

My dad was a regular at his small town's rink. I lived with my paternal grandmother for 2 years when I first started college and I used to sometimes skate at the same place as my teenaged father. I liked to picture him, much thinner, wearing fitted sweaters and flared jeans, picking up one wheeled foot after the other, maybe racing with buddies, maybe putting on a show for the ladies. On Sunday afternoon, at 57 years old, my dad hadn't retained the skating moves of his youth. Three-fourths of the way done with his first lap, he fell and broke his ankle.

He was kept in the hospital until Tuesday afternoon. My mom took him home and got him settled before leaving to pick up some medication and sweatpants, to fit around his cast. She was gone 20, maybe 30 minutes. She returned to find my dad sitting up on the couch, with his head drooping down, looking sleepy. When my mom finally roused him, she says he looked at her with "nursing home eyes, " meaning they looked glassy and disoriented. My mom struggled to get him to talk to her, and when he did, his words didn't make any sense.

The ambulance was summoned and my parents went back to the ER. Twenty-four hours, a CAT scan, spinal tap, and MRI later, my dad's confusion was given a name: thalamic stroke.

I've spent the last two days in the Neuroscience Critical Care Unit, where faces are long and eyes are red from exhaustion or sobbing. Everyone seemed to be dealing with devastating news. On day one, we weren't dealing with any news at all. Instead we were waiting for tests to happen, then waiting for the results, not knowing what to think or how to feel. When we finally learned that it was, indeed, a stroke, it was a relief to have an answer, something to tell people who called asking about my dad, something to research on Google. Today was a day of answers and hope. The phrase "full recovery" was uttered by the neurologist. This made my mom ecstatic, so I had to be thankful to the doctor for giving her such a boost, despite being slightly skeptical of his proclamation.

Besides his broken ankle, my dad's body is in good shape. Many stroke victims experience loss of movement on one side of their body, but he did not. With each day that passes, he seems a little more alert, a little more himself. He can identify people he knows and some objects. He knows that George Bush is president and that he works at Caterpillar. Today he named all five of his grandchildren. The one question that always stumps him is, "Where are you, Wayne?" He never knows where he is ("Ag Farm." "Autumn trees." "Out in the barn.") It's amazing and unsettling to see his surprised expression every time he learns he is in the hospital. This haunts me a little. When we get to go home for a respite and he has to stay, what does he think when he wakes up? Is he scared or worried? Can he simply accept being in a mysterious place, or does his mind create some kind of alternate reality? Maybe his location doesn't make it to the forefront of his brain over the pain in his ankle and the discomfort of wires and needles. Another thing he loses track of is the reason for the pain in his ankle. It hurts badly, he isn't receiving any medication for it, and he will tell us about his pain. But he's always surprised and a little embarrassed to learn that he broke his ankle while roller skating.

It's hard to see my dad so completely vulnerable, totally at the mercy of everyone around him. But there is a sweetness to his vulnerability, too. I see myself being annoyed in his situation, but he is so calm, so cooperative and patient. A doctor rouses him from a snoring-deep sleep, a nurse asks him for the 10th time today, "What day is it? What month is it? What year is it? What's your name?", a physical therapist commands him to squeeze his hands, raise his thumbs. But he never questions, he never complains. To be in the room with him is at once exhausting and relaxing. His demeanor is so peaceful; it makes all the waiting easier.

In the course of the next few months, the picture of my dad's future will become clearer. Right now there is nothing to do but look ahead. I'm trying not to worry, trying not be be scared. I'm getting ready to meet my father again for the first time.

2007-01-23T17:45:00.000-06:00

This song is from the mostly great (there are a few duds on there, sadly) Colours Are Brighter, an album of music for children. Laura says, "it's my theme song". That's her theme song, not mine.

But it's only January...

2007-01-23T14:47:00.000-06:00

I was 6 months pregnant when Simon turned 3 last March. As I prepared for his party, I reckoned it would be the last time I'd ever have the time or energy for crazy things like sending out handmade invitations or hanging up paper decorations I had cut out myself. Surely I would be frequenting the party store from then on, I thought.

Turns out, I can still engage in crazy party preparations. I just have to start much earlier.

Last night I made hats for these friends of Simon's (can you guess this year's birthday party theme?).

These five are my favorite.

But I suppose it would be rude not to invite the whole herd.

Currently Occupying my Grey Matter

2007-01-22T19:13:00.000-06:00

The blogging has really slowed down, eh? I know, I know. My mental space is pretty fuzzy these days, trying to figure some things out, on top of being completely knackered all the time. Baby Theo sleeps like a champ (thank you, Dr. Weissbluth), but Simon is still doing some uncharacteristic night-waking. I have no idea how to deal with it. I'm not even sure he knows that he's waking up. Last night he came in at 4:15 am (the third time that night) and I decided it was time to get tough. I told him I could not get up to put him back to bed. "Go back to your room, climb into your bed, and pull up your lion blankie, Simon. Mommy can't get up. Go back to bed." After a few minutes of whining, he left. On a hunch, I got up a while later and went to check on him. There he was, 4:30 am, lights on and playing in his room. What the hell is going on? I want to feel certain that this is just a horrible phase, but my confidence fades with each night that my sleep is pillaged by the new habits of this kid. SO TIRED.

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

Yesterday this baby hit the 7 month mark. He is beautiful, inquisitive, responsive, and so happy.
Despite having breastfed him exclusively for over 5 months, and continuing to nurse him as often as possible (read: as often as I can convince him to latch on), my milk is disappearing. Drying up. Going the way of the buffalo, etc etc.
Where did it go? I always thought that it was a simple equation: baby sucks, breasts produce milk. But, believe me, if that equation was mathematically true, I would have milk a-plenty. Instead I've got next to nothing.
My theory is that I lost too much weight. To me, my weight loss has felt painfully gradual, but maybe it wasn't gradual enough for my nursing body.
After trying and failing to breastfeed Simon, I feel grateful that Theo and I have had the success that we have. Still, I know I'm not ready to give up nursing him. I'm trying to decide if I can be satisfied nursing only once in the morning and once before bed, or if I should devote significant time and energy to getting my supply back up. The peanut gallery is open for thoughts from any current or former nursing mamas.

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

With the renewal of my obsession with all things crafty, I'm finding it hard to know how to order my days, how to spend my time. Every day when Theo takes his morning nap, I debate how to spend the time. Should I exercise, spend some quality time with Simon, or get craft-tastic? This is part of why I rarely blog anymore. I'm busy trying to do do do. I feel pulled in 30 different directions at any given moment. I have too many goals, too many ideas for improving myself, my family, or my home. And I can never decide which is most important at the time.

Some good friends of ours recently decided to homeschool their son. I've been guilty of judging the homeschool community in the past, due to interactions with a handful of homeschooling families as I was growing up. But I know that this couple will do it differently. I know they'll do right by their little guy. He'll be fantastically smart and comfortable in his own skin. The thing I still can't fathom about homeschooling is the TIME. The dedication of every minute of every day to one's child. I love my boys. Seriously, sometimes I think my heart will come exploding out of my milkless chest with love for them. Still, I need breaks. And I look forward to school as The Big Break. When the boys are in school, I 'll have so much more time for myself, my interests, my body. Until then, I'll have to struggle to order my priorities, and that's what keeps my mind racing these days.

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

So ends my rambling for this evening. Keep your fingers crossed for Simon's sleep tonight, would you?

2007-01-12T13:53:00.000-06:00

Urrrggggghh

2007-01-12T08:21:00.000-06:00

Goddammit. I'm not sold on the new Blogger, mostly because I've had a lot of trouble publishing photos, specifically posting from Picasa, which used to be fine. I could wait for Nate to wake up and fix this, but instead I'll just post the pictures here.

Sometimes I want to throw this computer. Did I mention that exhaustion tends to amplify my anger? Yeah, I'm not the most patient individual on 4 hours sleep.

A Quick Hello

2007-01-12T08:14:00.000-06:00

Haven't checked in here for a while. I've been both exhausted and busy.

Theo is still not sleeping through the night. Some nights are better than others. Several nights this week I was up with him every two hours. Then last night he had a wonderful long stretch, 11 pm to 5 am. Thing is, even when the baby sleeps well, Simon picks up where he left off. Seriously, it's uncanny. Every single time I'm getting a long stretch of sleep, I wake up suddenly when I feel a presence next to the bed. Simon is standing there quietly. When he sees I'm awake he says, "Mommy, I need to go back to bed." What he means, more precisely, is, "Mommy, get up and tuck me into bed, please." Sometimes I can grunt and pat Nate's (empty) side of the bed and convince Simon to sleep with me, so I don't have to get out of bed. Usually, he wins out, and I get up, take him to his bed, and put his lion blankie over him so he can sleep another few hours before waking me up again.
I could write more about the details of the wee-hour nightlife in this house, but I'm boring even myself. Suffice it to say, between the habits of these two boys, I am tired.
Sleep, my long lost lover, when will you come back to me?

Here are a few pics of what's been keeping me busy. I've been making some collages, something I've always really enjoyed. They won't photograph for shit, but you can get a feel for them, at least. We really need a better camera.

I've been making a lot of things lately, with a goal of taking them to my old (Chicago) church's craft bazaar next December.
I like to have a specific, tangible goal, even if it's pretty far away. It gives me a reason to be creative, helps me make creativity a priority instead of a frivolous pastime. Now if only I could view laundry and dishes as frivolous activities. That would really free up some time to work on what I want to create. I guess balance is important, though.

This last one is for me to keep. It will go above my craft desk to remind me of my aim in making things. My biggest challenge as a crafter is disappointment when I'm unable to execute ideas exactly as I had envisioned them. If I can remember that the goal is just to make things, not to make them perfectly, the process is far more enjoyable. And really, if I don't enjoy what I'm doing, I may as well go back to folding laundry. Or sleeping.

Have a good day, friends.

One Thousand Circles and Happy Feet

2007-01-03T10:37:00.000-06:00

I know, I know, three posts in a day! And with pictures! What's going on here? I should be totally spent after pulling the graveyard shift last night with Theo, but somehow I feel fine. It will probably catch up with me at some point, but until then I may as well keep on keepin' on.

Here is a project I've been working on for the past few days. I saw this idea for making garland out of old greeting cards in an issue of the now tragically defunct Martha Stewart Kids Magazine.

So, with the help of this little Fiskars gadget, I have cut out many, many little circles. This is another perfect project to do while watching TV. Those are my favorite kind, you may have noticed.

Finally, here are my feet, cozy in their new sunshiny shoes. I bought these with some of my Christmas money.

Aren't they lovely? I adore them, and I don't care what the blisters on the back of my heels have to say about it. They just need to be worn in. Then they'll be the most perfect, most comfortable shoes ever. They have to be. They're too beautiful not to be.

Gifts in Harmony

2007-01-03T09:26:00.000-06:00

Here is Simon making use of two new Christmas gifts simultaneously. The easel is from Aunt Jessica, and the paint is from Godfather Paul. The bottle said washable, but these pants would beg to differ.

I swear I did not prompt him to take this Incredible Hulk stance.

I guess he's just a very angry little boy.

Night From Hell, plus The Shirt

2007-01-03T01:53:00.000-06:00

Theo is sick tonight. In keeping with my resolution to get to bed at a reasonable hour, I "went to bed" at 10 pm. It's now 1:40 am, and I have probably been up with my baby 20 times in the interim. That's enough times to not really feel like I have gone to bed at all, but rather am working the night shift, just like my hubby. The only difference is that tomorrow, when he sleeps during the day, I will be "awake," caring for my boys. You'd better feel sorry for me. I know I do. (Also for baby Theo. Poor thing.)

Wanted to show you the completed shirt. When told to "look cool," this is the pose Nate produced. Spot on.

Another shot. Included here so you all can remember that your friend Nate is not a hipster creep, just a normal dude with a wicked awesome new shirt.

Here is a close-up. I'm not sure how well it translates through the computer screen. You might have to come visit us and view this masterpiece in person.
Please do.

All is Quiet

2007-01-01T22:05:00.000-06:00

I love to spend a winter day inside with my family, never leaving the house, lounging around and tackling small projects. This New Year's Day was exactly such a day.

As we stumbled sleepily up to bed last night at 12:04 am, I declared that we had two goals for the next day: Nate was to put together some shelves in the basement, and I was to supply our bed with clean sheets. To my shock and great pleasure, we had both of these things done before 10 am. We went on to clean up many little messes, make brownies, take naps, and watch Lassie. I don't even like dogs, and that movie had me misty-eyed for two hours straight. Anyway, I am happy to start the year with the house a little more in order, a trend I can only hope will continue in 2007.

So many goals for this coming year. I want to read more, craft more, take more video of my boys, figure out who the hell I am and what the hell I believe about life, death, god, etc. Those don't sound too lofty, do they? Well, I'll just have to do what I can, realizing the same goals will probably make it back onto the list next year.

I have one other goal: to go to bed at a reasonable time, instead of staying up for hours after Nate leaves for work. And that is what I am going to do right now.

Happy New Year!

Wednesday Picture Post: Projects and Objects

2006-12-20T09:38:00.000-06:00

Be warned: I'm going to write this post as if you, dear reader, are just as interested in the mundane details of my life as I am. You may not be, and I am prepared to greet your complete disinterest with understanding and acceptance.

This year's cookbooks are finished and in the mail. You should be receiving yours soon, possibly today! Run out to your mailbox, quick! I'm pleased with how they turned out the this year; the pictures of the boys in chef's hats were a big hit with the grandparents.

Here is the gift I'm still working on for Nate. I'm hoping to finish it today during the boys' afternoon nap. It's a t-shirt that I am embroidering with some kind of vintage music equipment. I think it's a drum machine, but I'm not entirely sure.

Here it is next to the picture that I traced to get the image. I know this picture is crap. Here's a link to the actual photo. On the shirt, the papery substance that you see will not be part of the final product. It's a special interface used to embroider stretchy fabrics. You can see I already tore off one corner as a test. I was worried it would mess up my stitches, my precious stitches. But it seemed to work okay. I'm curious/anxious to see how this shirt holds up to being worn and washed. If this project is successful, I foresee a lot of embellished clothing in our family's future.

Next up is my big project this week. It takes a bit of explanation. On Friday we are driving down to visit my grandma, Simon and Theo's Great-Grandma. This will be Theo and Grandma's first face to face meeting.

Grandma is my only living grandparent, and she is special to me for more than that reason alone. I lived with her for two years while I went to school in Southern Illinois. During that time I came to appreciate the depths of her personality and humor. She is amazing and we don't get to see her nearly enough.

Grandma is 81 and lives by herself. She gets around just fine, albeit somewhat slowly. For all of my life, a visit to Grandma's has meant the chance to splurge on her meals. She is a fantastic cook, specializing in food of the calorie-laden, southern-comfort variety. In the last several years, I have noticed that she is more and more exhausted after each meal she makes for us. I have tried offering help, but she generally refuses. I understand that: sometimes in life (especially in the kitchen), when you have a plan, it's easier to do it yourself.

This visit I wanted to give her a break, so I told her we would be cooking all of the meals. The papers you see in this picture are the lists and recipes I have been compiling all week. I had to consider carefully what to make, then make grocery lists, then take note of everything that I could do ahead of time. Tomorrow I will be in the kitchen all day, chopping and shredding and measuring everything possible for these recipes. I find it difficult to cook in someone else's kitchen, so my hope is that preparing as many ingredients ahead of time as possible will make the process at my Grandma's house much easier. Also it should free up more time for visiting.

Because I know you are dying to find out, here is our menu:

Friday Dinner: Curried Quinoa with Carrots and Cashews

Saturday Breakfast: Scrambled Egg Pizza

Saturday Lunch: Beef, Blue Cheese, and Spinach Quesadillas

-Salad with Romaine lettuce, blue cheese, apples, cucumbers, tomatoes, and poppyseed dressing. No recipe for this, just mimicing the salad Colin brought to our last potluck on Kedzie Blvd. Did I miss anything, Colin?

Saturday Dinner: Oatmeal-Crusted Chicken Tenders

-Cowboy Mashed Potatoes

-Brussels Sprouts for People Who Think They Hate Brussels Sprouts

-Yellow Squash Casserole (Grandma offered to contribute this)

Sunday Breakfast: Steel Cut Oats with brown sugar and raisins

-Winter fruit salad

Sunday Lunch: Simple Chicken and Oat Groat Soup

-Cheese-Onion Bannocks

I have a lot of work to do tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to cooking for my Grandma, though. I hope she likes the things I've chosen.

I have another plan to make this trip to Grandma's a special one. We'll be bringing down most of the gifts we got for the boys (minus the ones from Santa; he'll have to visit our house). I thought it would be fun for her to watch them open their presents. She doesn't do any decorating for Christmas, so I bought this little tree at Target. Cheap but fabulous! You can never go wrong with fiber optics. Of course, before our trip, we had to try it out at our house for a few days.

We made this cute garland by stringing pom-poms on dental floss. Idea via the thoroughly wonderful Kiddley.

Because the trip to Grandma's cuts our Christmas weekend short, we had an early celebration with Nate's family on Saturday. Here are a few highlights from under their extremely benevolent tree.

A few months ago I was an antique store with Nate's mom. I spotted this bowl, proceeded to flip out and paw it lustfully, then put it down when I saw the price. Nate's mom is a renowned gift giver. She always knows just what you want, and, true to form, she remembered this bowl and went back for it. I love it dearly.

(In the background are some postcards from Janna that I framed. I love those too.)
Here we have our new mammoth food processor.

And Nate is the blissful new owner of an espresso machine. He says this gadget has a pretty steep learning curve, so he is just a beginner. Maybe by the time we have friends visit in January and February he'll be able to pull a perfect cup of espresso.

We also got the 4 cutest espresso cups on the face of the earth.

Theo's big gift this year was his lovey. I am hoping that he'll become as attached to his lovey as Simon is to his.

Loveys are miraculous healers of boo-boos and hurt feelings, so we welcome this new helper with open arms.

Finally, I captured these moments of concentrated play. Simon hasn't touched this toy for maybe 6 months, so I was surprised to see him meticulously lining up his animals this morning.
You just never know when a toy will come back into favor.

This will be my last missive before Christmas. Have a great holiday, everyone! Love to you all.

More Christmas Music

2006-12-15T15:05:00.000-06:00

Great X-Mas music abounds on the internet this season:

Christmas mix from Snack and C'mish on Lemon-Red- hip hop and dance music in a holiday style

More Chrstmas mixes posted by Nick Catchdubs, and hot holiday tracks as well

Wham!

And probably the best Christmas song you'll ever hear in your life, by the now disbanded
Jitney: WHERE YOUR TINSEL AT?

2006-12-14T15:03:00.000-06:00

Moms Who Need Friends

2006-12-13T14:48:00.000-06:00

It's beautiful here today, sunny and unseasonably warm. I took the boys to the park.

Another mom and her two boys were there. We said hi, then performed the requisite exchange of our boys' ages and names. Hers were 3 years and 16 months. As soon as I told her Simon was also three, she said, "Has he started with the backtalk and the terrible sassy mouth?"

This is my all-time, number-one pet peeve exhibited by parents: talking shit about your kids in front of your kids, as if they aren't standing right there.

One of Simon's preschool classmates has a mother who does this chronically. I only see her and her son for about 5 minutes every Tuesday and Thursday, yet here are the things I know about her kid: he's a bad sleeper, he refuses to participate in school activities, and he is picky about the clothes he will wear. She says all of this right in front of him, to anyone in earshot who will uncomfortably pretend to listen to her. It drives me crazy.

When I realized she was divorced, I decided I should cut her some slack. A single mom, no partner to talk to, possibly no time to spend with friends. These are the situations in which you bitch about your kids. With your partner after they are in bed, with your girlfriends when the kids are watching a loud TV in the next room. When a kid is around, the only things you should be saying about them are glowingly positive, nothing that could be construed as even bordering on criticism.

I'm a pretty live-and-let-live kind of person and parent. You won't often hear me say that someone's parenting tactics are wrong, but about this I will say it: Letting your kids hear you put them down in front of other people is THE WRONG THING TO DO. It's sloppy and irresponsible parenting, it's absolutely emotionally damaging to children. If there were classes required to become a parent, this would be up there on the course outline, right after "Feed, Bathe, Clothe," it would say, "Emotionally protect your children: don't talk bad about them while they're around. Refusal to comply will result in the swift revocation of your license." I'm certainly not saying that parents don't have a right to complain about their children's less-than-charming qualities. You need talk about it, definitely. I'm just saying, proper time, proper place. Come on, people. Find a confidant for this kind of stuff, otherwise you end up blurting it out to strangers at the playground.

Clearly, my interaction with this woman started off on a bad note. The first thing I thought about her was, "Good god, she must not have any friends. She's so desperately eager to talk about the problems she's having with her kid." We kept talking, as we were the only ones at the small park. I told her we've just moved and that it's a big change from Chicago. She said they moved about a year ago, from Colorado. She didn't like it at first, but now the mall is much better than it used to be. Also, Champaign's mall is really good, so that helps.

Okay, so, I don't know if you caught that. She made a direct connection between the quality of life in a certain town and the quality of said town's MALL. Strike 2 against this lady.

Before we left she asked if we could exchange names and numbers. She also invited me to ---What else?--- the mother's group at her evangelical megachurch. Goody.

Yesterday I read a post on Cassie's blog complete with pictures of people hanging out at Colin and Brian's new apartment, which I think is right around the corner from our old place. I saw our friends sitting on a couch and I cried for 10 minutes. I miss having friends. Additionally, I feel enormous regret for not having spent enough time with our friends when they were nearby. At the time, it felt impossibly hard to make time for potlucks, dinners, trips across town. We were happy to see friends once in a while, but in retrospect, and in a friend-less town, I feel it wasn't nearly often enough.

Here's the detailed skinny on the friend situation here. We have a couple of friends in Peoria, which is about a 40 minute drive from here. With two kids to get back home by bedtime, that seems pretty far. Still, I have hope that we'll make an effort to see these people sometime. Soon, please. Here in Bloomington, we have no friends and no leads so far. Neither Nate nor I excel at the art of acquiring friends. Both a little shy, both struggling with bouts of awkwardness, it doesn't come easy. With a few exceptions, all our friends in Chicago were friends from high school or college, places I now see were teeming with potential friends, compared to the barren wasteland of friendships-forged that is adult life.

This lady at the park today was offering friendship, or least a trial period before official friendship. She extended herself to me, offering me personal information and phone number. Will I accept her offer? Let's just say, I'm not imagining many happy hours of playdates. In fact, I'm racking my brain for how to turn her down when she calls to invite me to her megachurch. Am I being too picky? Too judgemental? In my situation, shouldn't I be more open to the friendly advances of another woman?

I don't know. Maybe I'm missing a golden opportunity here. But, seriously, malls and moms' groups? Doesn't sound one bit like my scene.

What I need to know is how to meet some young, hip individuals who are smart, politically aware, up on their celebrity gossip, quick with some witty banter, enjoy a good potluck or picnic, and are up for Trivial Pursuit or Scrabble, or an arty movie. Some should be married, some single, most should not have kids (so they can babysit for us), but a few should have kids close in age to ours (so we can feel some camaraderie). So, basically, I want an exact clone of the group of friends we left. You know, the ones I miss terribly and didn't spend enough time with while I had the chance.

Fuck it. I don't want clones. I want the real deal. I want to go home. I want to see all my friends tonight.

Spreading Holiday Cheer

2006-12-12T15:52:00.000-06:00

This made me laugh until I cried. If you can muddle through the spelling and grammar, I think it will make you laugh too. Keep reading all the way to the end. This is my Christmas gift to you, via Dutch.

Let Them Eat Cookies

2006-12-09T10:43:00.000-06:00

The festivities continue with the baking of our annual Christmas cookies.

We mixed up the dough in the afternoon.

Then we baked and decorated after dinner.
Still on tap we have gingerbread people, cream cheese cutouts, and oatmeal cookies.

During the rest of the year we almost never bake sweets, so the holiday baking is really starting to carry some weight as a tradition.

Speaking of weight, I'm sure these will be very useful in helping me reach my Weight Watchers goals. Oh well. As Bunny McDugal would say, "Tradition is a highly underrated virtue."

At Christmastime, Almighty Tradition must trump the waistline. Better luck next year, pal.

Where the Hell Have I Been?

2006-12-06T19:07:00.000-06:00

Busy, people, very busy. I warned you in my post about embroidery that I would have to take a hiatus, and I wasn't kidding. I am super busy with holiday fun. I never even take an afternoon nap anymore, though I am continually exhausted. I just have too many fun things to do. I will probably disappear again until after Christmas, but I do have some time tonight to update you on the goings-on around here. First of all, SNOW. It is a blast to see snow through the eyes of a three year old. As soon as he woke up and saw the snowfall on Friday morning, he asked if we could go out and play. We had to wait a few hours, until Theo was down for a nap, then we bundled up and headed out into the beautiful winter wonderland. We made snow angels, made tracks, dug holes, drew pictures with sticks, all the classics. It was incredibly fun.
Here is the only picture I have to represent the crafting I have been doing. I love the look of paper chains, but I wanted something that might actually hold up for a few years. So I cut strips of stiffened felt and used a thread and a button to close each loop. I love them. Totally worth the few evenings I spent working on them.

The craft that has most occupied my time is embroidery. I'm still chipping away at the hugely complicated wedding gift I started. Don't know if I'll finish it on time. I'm also working on a gift for Nate. He already knows about it, but I probably won't post a picture until after I've given it to him. I think it's going to be pretty amazing. I hope.
We attended our first-ever school pagent for our son. We'll have many, many more of these in our lives as parents, but that didn't make the first one any less special. I love watching Simon perform. He's so confident and in-the-moment. He never looks around for assurance from anybody. He just has fun and sings. As it should be.
Finally, today, after the snow melted a bit, we tried to make a snowman. I thought the conditions would be more conducive to the rolling of three big snowballs, but I was wrong. We did our best, though, and here's what we came up with. Small can be beautiful, right? Yes, indeed.

You may have noticed an utter lack of my typical sarcastic or cynical undertones in this post. That's because I'm having a really great time getting ready for Christmas. On the day we put up our tree, so many weeks ago now, I knew that this holiday season would be different. Simon is so joyful and excited. I'm trying hard to make choices that add to his excitement and do not detract. In my estimation, these are the kind of things that can build upon his happiness: playing in the snow, making the house look magical, talking excitedly about Santa (something we debated, but decided to go for), letting him pick out small gifts for the people in his life. Things that do not contribute to his natural jubilation: me worrying about the state of the house (I'm not talking decorations here, I'm talking laundry in baskets and dishes on counters), me telling him that we can play in the snow "later, later" (which is my natural inclination), me exhibiting stress about the holidays instead of joy.

I think you get the picture here. My point is that I'm learning that my child's holiday can be as magical as I allow it to be. That means letting go of stress, embracing pure happiness, and taking advantage of every opportunity to have fun. I'm trying hard to do this, and I feel I am succeeding. As a result, my house has gone to the dogs, but I am the happiest I have been since leaving Chicago. Which, you should know, is a huge deal.

Also, in the last few days, I have been reluctantly following a heartbreaking story in the news. I first read about this story in my craft blogs, because this couple was prominent in the craft world in San Francisco. But I believe it has also been in the national news. James and Kati Kim were travelling with their two small girls, en route to visit family, when their car got stuck on an desolate Oregan road. (I can't link to the story because I'm doing this post in Picasa... it won't let me find a link for you). (Here's a link -Nate) They were stranded for 7 days in the snowy wilderness and proved themselves very resourceful by surviving. On the 7th morning, James left to try to find help. Kati and the girls were rescued 2 days later. James was found dead this morning.

I really try hard to ignore tragic stories in the news. Because, honestly? I have enough irrational fears about something terrible happening to my family without getting wrapped up in all the terrible things that are actually happening to people I've never met. Also, I want desperately to avoid mirroring my mother in this habit. She often calls to tell me about someone who died tragically, suddenly, and then says, "We just never know how long we have on this earth." (Not-so-subtle code for, "This is why you should love Jesus, Laura. Because you could die tomorrow and you don't want to spend eternity in hell, do you? DO YOU???")

Anyway, I don't know exactly why... maybe because I am an outside observer of many in the crafting community, who were personally affected by this loss. Maybe because it seems like something that really could happen to anyone, such a goddamn unlucky break. For whatever reason, this story really got under my skin. I feel enormous sadness for this family, I can't seem to get them off my mind.

Although it's not the reaction my mom might want me to have (you know, repent and turn to Jesus lest I burn in hell after my untimely death), I have had a strong reaction to this family's unbelievable ordeal. Thinking about that mother nursing her girls in the backseat of their car, imagining her soft whisperings to keep everyone calm and hopeful, I find myself approaching my boys with great tenderness in our everyday interactions. As I've admitted on this blog many times, my patience can sometimes wear thin. Sometimes I feel as if I'll either slug Simon, throw a chair across the room, or pull out handfuls of my hair in anger. But for the past few days, with this fellow mother on my mind, my inevitable moments of frustration have been softened by gratitude and appreciation for every moment I have as a mother, be it sweet or infuriating.

As much as I hate to think about it, my mom is right: we don't know how much time we have in this life. But my response is not fear. Instead, I am incredibly, enormously, overwhelmingly thankful for the rich life I have had to this point. To spend every day with three people who I love and who love me... this is not a thing to take for granted. I hope I can hang on to this realization even after my heavy heart for this family is eventually lightened by the passage of time. I want to continue to make time for my family and be intentional about creating happiness in my life, our lives. Right now I can honestly say, who really fucking cares if my house is a mess? I'm playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with my son, who happens to be laughing hysterically. I hope that in a month I'm not back to my old mantra of, "This house is driving me crazy!"

To sum up: say a prayer or send some compassionate thoughts toward the Kim family, then give your own loved ones a kiss.

I'm going back into hiding, probably until after December 25. I can't wait to show you all the things I accomplish in the next few weeks.

Be well, friends.

The reindeer remind me of the range/ The icicles remind me of the rings

2006-12-02T16:26:00.000-06:00

I was going to do a post about Thurs. night/Fri. morning, one of the most frustrating days of my life, but instead I'm going to post this new mix that I recorded... just shy of 40 minutes of all Christmas music. We're big Christmas music listeners around here. I'm a recent convert, Laura more of a veteran. Every song is Laura approved with the exception of one. (Hint: she's not a big fan of using belching as an instrument.) Download:

Christmas Snow Plow 2006 Mix

2006-11-30T20:33:00.000-06:00

Barack Obama and Ludacris in Chicago on Wednesday.

2006-11-23T06:31:00.000-06:00

Occasionally you encounter a work of such literary genius that you know, after reading it, that your life will never be the same again. Recently I have read just such a work, and although it has no official title, I like to call it BE ADEQUITE, written by Lindsay Lohan.

Tutorial: Making Fabulous Framed Prints Using Your Child's Art

2006-11-22T12:50:00.000-06:00

I shocked myself by bringing one of my ideas to fruition this afternoon. I guess I'm not all talk! I really like how these turned out, and Simon will be proud to give them as gifts to his grandparents and teachers.

What you need:
-cheap frames. I got these 50% off at Hobby Lobby.
-mats, pre-cut to fit your frames. These are also from Hobby Lobby, about $1.50 a piece.
-pencil
-scissors
-wildly abstract paintings done by your child (or art in another medium)

Grab your mat and move it all around the paper until a pleasing composition strikes your eye.

Then, simply trace around the mat lightly with pencil, and use scissors to cut out your selection.

Now all you need to do is put the mat and the painting in the frame. An optional final touch is to "sign" your child's name. Turn the piece around in your hand, studying it intensely, until you decide on the most pleasing orientation. Write your child's name in small print in the lower right hand corner. I also added the year (SIMON '06).

Again, I think these are so cute. I may be biased as the artist's mother, but I really think that grandparents and teachers will love these. Perfect for the office, the windowsill, or, what the hell, above the mantel.

One idea down, sixty-three to go.

2006-11-22T07:47:00.000-06:00

Sure, this turkey looks harmless enough...

But make no mistake, he has a fierce gobble.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Ridiculously Early Birds

2006-11-21T06:50:00.000-06:00

On Friday Simon and I put up the tree. I used to have a firm policy of waiting until after Thanksgiving to put up the Christmas tree. But the policy was softened after much pleading from this boy. The few hours we worked on this project were some of the sweetest we've spent together in recent memory. Simon was so excited to see each and every ornament, and he would tell me so, with an enthusiastic, "Oh, this is beautiful! Oh, Mommy, thank you for bringing this ornament!"
This is the first year he is really into the holidays as they roll around. His excitement is contagious, and I suddently find myself bursting with ideas of how to make this time special for him. If I can get these ideas out of my head and into real life, we'll make cookies, put together paper chains to decorate the house, and craft some cute gifts for Grandmas and Grandpas. I don't know if all this will happen, realistically. I'm just happy to have someone spurring me on toward creativity and joy. This will be the first year in a long while that I don't experience the holidays as a jaded adult. Should be fun. Thank you, Simon.

2006-11-15T17:40:00.000-06:00

"Ladies and gentlemen, the gangsta Yankee Hotel Foxtrot has finally arrived."

2006-11-14T21:51:00.000-06:00

via Music Thing

New Obsession and Sheer Exhaustion

2006-11-13T12:47:00.000-06:00

Since I am basking in free time, with so little to do on a daily basis, last week I decided this would be a good time in life to learn to embroider. I've thrown myself in with zeal typical of a new convert. This was my first project. It's a teatowel, and the bird's banner says "tasty," which is a term we have been known to employ. It took maybe 3 evenings to complete; I'm not sure how many hours. There is a relaxing rythym to stitching that I have come to crave. I especially love my new hobby because it can be done while watching crap tv. Now that I have started stitching I do not want to stop. Every chance I get, I grab my hoop and needle and go to it. This means that I am embroidering instead of emptying the dishwasher or vacuuming renegade gangs of dried playdough off the rug. It remains to be seen how my new hobby and my house are going to get along. Also, I wouldn't be surprised if there is a blogging hiatus brought on by this pasttime.

For my second project I decided to throw beginner's caution to the fucking wind. I am working on a huge (relative to the teatowel bird) wall-hanging for a friend's wedding gift. All I have completed so far is the date of their wedding, which also happens to be my deadline for this project. It is far more intricate than the first pattern I worked on... I hope I can finish it in time. If I continue with the same frenzied pace as I am working at now, it should be no problem.

While I'm here, I wanted to complain a little about how tired I am. This baby is now five months old. According to some experts he should be sleeping all night now. But is he, you ask? Is he?
Oh, no, my friends, he is not. He's done it a few times, 5 maybe, but for the last month, a "long stretch" of sleep for me is 3 hours. Just to give you an example, here's how our night generally goes. This was last night's schedule: Theo wakes up at 11 pm, just as I'm heading up to bed. We nurse. Up again at 2:30. Nurse. Up again 3:30. Nurse. Up again 4:30. Nurse. Up again at 7 am. During that last shift, though, Simon woke up at 5:30 to pee. He went into the bathroom himself, but I swiftly followed in order to shush him so the baby didn't wake up (Theo's room is right by the WC). Then Simon got up again to poop at 6:15. I was so tired. I found myself dozing off while sitting on the edge of the tub waiting for him to go. When I started awake, I snapped at Simon to "hurry up and push it out!" What??? This is what exhaustion does to a mother. By this time it was 6:30 am, a time when most normal parents are probably starting their days. Instead, I am yelling at my kid to finish shitting so I can stumble back to bed for 30 more minutes.
You may have noticed that I nurse a lot. I know, I know. I understand that he surely isn't hungry all those times. I nurse because it's the easiest way for us both to get back to bed. Some people might say I'm huring myself in the long-run, that I should just try to comfort him or let him cry. But the comforting sans nursing doesn't work because you better believe he knows exactly what's underneath that tank top I'm wearing. The crying doesn't work because I can't sleep through it. And at 3 am MUST SLEEP are the only words I hear.
I honestly think I'm doing everything right... he sleeps great during the day. I take great pains to keep him well-rested, and the night sleeping is supposed to naturally follow. Since it isn't, I of course start feeling like I must be doing something wrong. Where have I failed as a mother? This is one of the things I can ponder while I pull my embroidery needle to and fro.
In the midst of this excrutiating exhaustion, I'm supposed to be shedding the 50 pounds gifted to me by Theo upon his arrival in this world. Losing weight means exercise, of course. I don't mind working out at all. In fact, I rather enjoy it if I have an ounce of energy. With the current sleeping situation, I don't have any.
What I want to know is this: how many calories can I burn by lifting my right forearm while pulling a needle and thread? Can somebody figure that out and let me know? Thanks.

Afternoon Light Is The Best

2006-11-08T19:31:00.000-06:00

My Child, Evil Genius and other random stories

2006-11-07T19:33:00.000-06:00

-----A few days ago Simon was drinking some water and purposely dribbled about 1/4 cup down the front of his shirt. He then asked me to change his shirt, a request I refused out of sheer irritation with the previous act. Simon proceeded to beg for a clean shirt. I assured him it would dry shortly. Ten minutes later, it appeared the incident was behind us.

Simon told me he had to go potty and went upstairs to go by himself. Soon I heard a whiny voice beseeching me: "Mommy, change my shirt! My arms are wet!" Yes, indeed, his arms were very wet.

"Simon, where have these arms been? How did these arms get wet?"

"I put them in the potty."

So, Simon got his clean shirt. Simon - 1, Mommy - 0.

-----I think I mentioned that I'm doing Weight Watchers online. So far it's going pretty well. I've had some good weeks and some bad. I struggle a lot with the snacking bug. One obvious solution would be to stop buying snacks. Trouble is, now that I have a boot-wearing, constantly-hungry working man for a husband, the snacks are a must. For this reason, I went to the store yesterday with a mission: I wanted to buy snacks that Nate likes but I do not. Among other things, I bought some pork rinds.

Nate used to eat pork rinds when we were first married. I found the sight, the smell, and the very idea of them thoroughly disgusting. I belly-ached enough, and he stopped buying them. So when he saw them in the cupboard yesterday, he was understandably surprised.

"Pork rinds? Whoa. What's that about?"

"Well, you know, I wanted to get stuff that I knew I wouldn't be tempted to eat."

"This might be the nicest thing you've ever done for me."

So there you have it: pork rinds as sentimental gesture.

-----Today at Target there was a woman in front of me at the service desk arguing with the cashier about her return. Despite the large sign behind the desk declaring the need for a receipt, she was miffed about receiving her return in the form of a gift card for $5.60 instead of the cash she had paid. She said there wasn't one thing she wanted to buy in that store (really? you don't use toothpaste? toilet paper? deodorant? bread? milk?) and demanded to see the manager.

When the manager arrived, the grouchy lady got the exact same answer. Upon hearing the predictable, "Unfortunately, our store policy is blah blah blah," ol' crochety asked for the phone number of someone higher up. Then she added, "And you'll be hearing from my lawyer about a civil suit."

I think I may have laughed out loud. I love the thought of this woman being unwilling to lose her $5 cash, but willing to pay lawyer's fees to stick it to Target. I'm sure she'll carry through with that threat, and when she does she'll get 'em good.

It's nice to be next in line after someone like that because damn if you don't seem like the sweetest person in a cashier's life at that moment.

-----Every night after Nate gives Simon his bath, they come downstairs to put on jammies. He's nearly always wrapped in a blue hippopotamus towel and, if he is, he'll tell me, "There's a hippo in your house!"

Then we try to put on his pajamas. For whatever reason, this is a real squirrelly time of night for him, and he tends to try to run away from us, in all his naked glory, squandering countless minutes when he could be in bed and we could be vegging in front of the tellie.

To trick him into standing still, sometimes we try to tell stories, stories we make up. It can be difficult, but it helps to involve Simon in the process. That way he is engaged more fully and it gives you a place to start. Last night we asked him what our story should be about.

"About puppies. About big and small puppies."

"Okay. Where do the puppies live?"

"In a basket."

"Do you know their names? Who are the big puppies?"

"Scooby Doo and Scooby Ront."

"Okay, and who are the small puppies?"

"Scooby Pbbbt P. and Scooby Pbbbt Music and Scooby Pbbbt Pants."
note: Pbbbt is a sound made with vibrating lips. sort of like a horse-blowing-flies-off-his-face-noise. you know what i mean, right?

The rest of the story was pretty decent. It involved the puppies being scared by and then befriending a T. Rex. But the best part were definitely the names.

After three times of saying all those weird, spit-shooting names, we were all in stitches. Especially Simon. It was gold, pure comic gold. And maybe one of my most fun parenting moments ever.

Zoom In

2006-11-02T10:47:00.000-06:00

I had to post this cropped version of a photo I posted earlier. Check out that expression. Very cowboy, don't you think? I half expect him to start spitting tobacco.

Thursday Morning Picture Post

2006-11-02T07:01:00.000-06:00

At the now infamous Taylor-Seeley-Hartrich breakfast, I tried, unsuccessfully, to describe this little seat. I thought some clearer pictures would help. It's supposed to help babies learn to sit, I guess, through its supportive structure. Theo really likes it, but not for too long. His little body still gets worn out rather quickly. Overall, the effect of this chair (besides extreme cuteness) is to make babies look older than they actually are, causing parents worldwide to lament the swift passage of time.
Our Halloween was big fun. We had a pumpkin...

...and a cowboy. I don't know if you can tell from the pictures, but Simon's legs are inside the two rear horsey legs. So he's really half-cowboy, half-horse. Sort of a wild-west variation on a centaur.

His costume was a big hit, and Theo also looked cute as a button, though he was seen only by the family. No gallivanting about in 30 degree weather for him.

We traveled over to the grandparents' houses so the boys could be ogled, first to my parents' and then to Nate's, where we spent the night.

At first Simon wasn't keen on the idea of trick-or-treating. But I think he changed his mind once he saw all the hubbub in the neighborhood. He's always been one to want to do whatever the big kids are doing, and this was no exception.

Once we got out there, he had a fabulous time. We tried to coach him on the proper things to say, first "Trick or Treat," then "Thank you." Most of the time he got too excited to get it quite right. Sometimes he would flip the order. Other times, after he got his candy, we would prompt,"What do you say, Simon?" And he would yell, "ANOTHER ONE!!! ANOTHER HOUSE!!!"

I have heard tales of children who systematically organize and save their Halloween candy, making last until next month or next year, depending on the size of their haul. I was not one of these children. Instead, I'd usually empty my huge bag in a day or two. Time has not changed me, and last night I couldn't keep my hands out of my son's stash. I went to bed with a guilty-conscience and mild heartburn from all the chocolate.

[Insert wry closing comment here.]

I put a lot of pressure on myself to end each post with something quite witty. I don't know how successful I am. Anyway, this morning I don't have time to try. You understand.

Keeping My Mouth Shut... For Now

2006-10-30T21:46:00.000-06:00

Saturday we had a truly wonderful morning with the Taylors and the Seeleys. We had to skidaddle promptly at 11:30, and on our way home, Simon spotted a McDonald's. He immediately pulled out all the stops to let us know how much he would like to stop and partake in some of Ronald's famous fare. When he was denied his fast food request, much whining ensued. He was sad, very sad. And I was, frankly, a little annoyed. Not at him, but at one of his grandmothers, who has been taking him to McDonald's more frequently than I would like. We all know how delicious those McNuggets can be, and now, after eating them almost once a week with his gram, Simon can spot the Golden Arches from miles away. Damn those tall, tall signs that are meant to be seen from miles away. They certainly work on my three year old.

My irritation at that moment was the culmination of weeks of concern over Simon and his grandma's McDonald's dates. It's not as if I feed my kid all-organic, sprouted-grain soy smoothies all the time. I feel like I'm fairly relaxed about the food he eats, trying to balance healthy choices with perennial toddler favorites. But let's face it, that shit is not good for you. It's toxic and it's addictive, as evidenced by Simon's desperate demands in the car Saturday.

So here is my dilemma: Do I say something about it? Do I suggest that perhaps Simon and Grandma try taking their business somewhere else? Maybe to a place where his tiny arteries will return home filled with slightly less sludge? Also, maybe somewhere a little less aggressive with the branding campaign? For God's sake, we can't even turn on Sesame Street without a not-so-subtle appearance from the Golden Arches first.

My current standing on the situation is just to leave it be. I love this grandmother more than I hate the thought of my son devouring McNuggets, and the prospect of offending her is not worth the risk.

I have another speak-up-or-shut-up quandary thrown at me from time to time. It involves another grandmother. After Simon has spent any time alone with her, without fail he will come home singing religious children's songs. He tends to sing them under his breath and will sometimes jumble them with other ditties, but I always recognize them because I sang the same songs as a child. I've heard him singing, to the tune of BINGO, "and Jesus was his name-o... and God was his name-o.... and Bingo was his name-o" (that's the jumbling I was talking about). Also, there is a tricky song with a lot of spelling that I've heard him attempt. He doesn't get all the letters right, but once he learns it, this is what he'll sing:
"I am a C
I am a C-H
I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N
and I have C-H-R-I-S-T
in my H-E-A-R-T
and I will L-I-V-E E-T-E-R-N-A-L-L-Y!"

I don't think I've written much about religion here, though it is a common topic in our home. I will give you just a little background, and you can fill in the holes with your imagination, or maybe I'll write about it some other time. For today, let me say this: I grew up as an evangelical Christian. My family members are all conservative, literal-Bible-believing Christians. I used to be a fervent evangelical along with them, but I'm not anymore.

When I got pregnant with Simon my whole world changed. I began to shift from my conservative beliefs into a more progressive model of Christianity, and now I find myself rather ambivalent toward faith in general. My family knows about this change, but I don't think they know the extent. They know that I believe God is genderless and that being gay isn't a sin. I'm pretty sure they would say I have "gone astray," and they might even believe I'm hell-bound. They definitely fear that fate for Nate and my boys, unless they get saved.

Enter the constant 'childrens' worship' music they play for Simon. Every single time Simon comes home from a visit with my family, he returns singing "praise ye the Lord, hallelujah." It seems like they use every opportunity they get to shower him with the glorious TRUTH of the Gospel. The other day he went to my brother's place and was there for an hour, hour and a half, tops. No need to wonder how they spent their time together... Simon hummed the Veggie Tales theme throughout the next day. I can't help but feel like this constant barrage of Christian entertainment is an affront to me and what I believe (or don't believe) now. But I'm sure they don't see it that way. I know they feel they are doing the right thing for his young soul. They'd probably play the same music for any child, heathen parents or no, as it's their mission here on earth to save as many folks as possible from the fiery lakes. I'm not being sarcastic.

This matter is more delicate than the McDonald's situation. How could I possibly approach my family with this complaint? "Hey, will you please stop trying to save my son from eternally damnation?" Bringing up the music would open up the whole wormy can of religious discussions that we all try to avoid. And my mom would be shocked and dismayed if she knew how far away from her path I have turned... that not only do I believe God loves queers, but I'm not sure if I believe in sin and salvation, or even in the deity of Jesus. She would be deeply saddened, and, despite some tension in our relationship, I love her and don't want to hurt her in that way.

The McDonald's and the "Jesus was his name-o" problems both test my skills as a diplomatic family member. Would I like these situations to change? Yes, of course. But right now the bigger goal is to let Simon spend time with his grandparents, allowing them to flourish in their mutual love for one another, and to maintain peaceful relations. That's why I'm choosing to stay mute in both instances. There may be a time when Nate and I deem it necessary to speak up. That time is not yet here.

I think all this also points to parents' impossible task of letting go of their children. I spend every day with this kid, pouring my heart into raising him to be a capable, happy, free person. It's so hard to accept that many, many other things and people will influence the person he becomes. Also, it can be hard to remember that the risk of raising a free individual is that they are free to choose things that you wouldn't choose for them. Like a diet consisting of all fast food, Supersize Me style. Or fundamental Christianity.

It begs the question: would I love my son if he were an obese, spinach-shunning, Bible-thumping, other-religion-condemning born-again believer? Yeah, I think I could and I would. Absolutely.

I don't know if I could take it laying down, though. I might have to teach his kids to swear and slip soyburgers into his Big Mac buns. Then he could lament how his mother is trying to sway his suggestible children with her wacky ideas. I wonder if he would say anything.

Just Because...

2006-10-26T12:25:00.000-05:00

Trashy

2006-10-26T10:36:00.000-05:00

Not long after we moved to this new place, we discovered that we had some neighbors across the street who were noisy. Very noisy. We started referring to them as "the lovers of all things loud." I think I once mentioned their demolition derby car, which they liked to bang on with a large sledgehammer. In addition to the car-pounding, one of their sons had a business setting up bumping car stereos, and this same dude enjoyed playing with an extraordinarily loud remote control car on the side walk. I tried not to be too bothered by these noise-loving neighbors... sure, I had visions of my baby waking up screaming from his naps, disturbed by a thumping bass test or a whining toy car. And, yes, just thinking about their stupid demolition derby preparations waking up my baby was enough to raise my blood pressure and make my cheeks flush in anger. But there was nothing I could do to change the situation. Best just to try to forget about it.

About a week ago we noticed them loading up a pick-up truck. It appeared they might be moving. Could our luck be so good? Throughout the week they continued to slowly empty out the house. After about the 7th load went into the truck, we were convinced: they were really leaving!

The last time they were at the house, they left this massive pile of garbage in the yard. The view from our north-facing windows featured this tableau all week, until this morning when the city took care of the mess.

It took 5 husky gentlemen, a tractor, and a dump truck to clean it up. Thanks, guys. That's much better. We're going to enjoy our relative peace and quiet.

Wednesday LOVE List

2006-10-25T12:03:00.000-05:00

-Simon has started to watch and enjoy Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. I love the songs, I love the gentleness, and I love the trolley, of course. It's a show that really evokes memories of my own childhood, along with Sesame Street. Sesame Street seems to change and evolve with the times, but Mr. Rogers doesn't. It's always sometime in the 1970's there; today Mr. Rodgers visited the set of the Incredible Hulk to show kids that it's all make-believe, akin to his famous neighborhood. It is such a good feeling to know you're alive.

-And it came to pass that in her 25th year, Laura discovered curry. And, lo, it was good.
I have no idea how I missed out on this for so long. I am now a woman obsessed with curry. It can't be too spicy right now, because I am a walking milk jug, you know. But a mild curry is just as delicious as a spicy one. So easy, too. Mmmmm.

-I used to feel some embarrassment over the fact that all I ever read anymore are parenting books. But I've gotten over that. My favorite history professor might shake his head in dismay, but parenting books are what I need right now. And the advice found in this particular gem is getting me through each day. When I am focused on my parenting, every day goes so much smoother. Little battles turn into little experiments, in which I test my new tricks of the trade. I've come to the conclusion that, as a mother, love is not enough; you need tools and skills. And me? Well, thanks to this book, I got mad skillz.

I guess this is a short list. Also, it's almost Thursday now.
I shall away to bed, where I will dream of moving to Spain.

A Little Excitement Around These Parts

2006-10-18T21:55:00.000-05:00

A few days ago a friend of ours revealed that his parents sometimes read Wu Tang is for the Children. I was mortified, not because anything I write here is sacred or private (except to my family, who do not know this blog exists and who, if there is a God, never will), but because of all the naughty words that work their way up through my fingertips and onto the screen. Yeah, I like to curse. A lot. This is a fairly new habit of mine. When Nate and I got married, almost 4 years ago, I almost never let fly a 'hell' or a 'shit.' Now I have embraced a lexicon full of 'motherfucker,' 'jesus fucking christ,' and, a new favorite borrowed from this great show, 'bollocking shitballs.' I bandy about these choice words strictly in the company of Nate and other consenting adults. Never in front of kids or strangers. And I guess that's why I was so horrified to learn that these parents of a friend were reading my potty-mouth blog. I don't know them, yet I respect them immensely for raising a helluva kid. So, after this news, I vowed to curtail my swearing on this here blog.

And I will. Really, I will. Right after I tell you this story.

So tonight Nate and I are sitting on the couch watching our downloaded, commercial-free version of last night's Veronica Mars episode. Just as Veronica is about to spout some witty quip, Nate says, rather nonchalantly, "There's a bird in our house."
Then, with more appropriate emphasis, "THERE'S A FUCKING BIRD IN OUR HOUSE."
We sit there for a few seconds watching this thing fly around our living and dining rooms. It suddenly hits me, it's not a bird. "IT'S A BAT!!!" The situation instantly becomes three times as tense, wild, alarming.
We instinctively move away from the bat and end up huddled in the hallway, cowering under a jacket. We peek out every so often to catch sight of this domestic terrorist and yell, "Oh shit!" "Oh my God! Why is there a fucking BAT in our house?!" "Ahhh! How did it get in here?! Ahhh! Fucking hell!" "What should we do?!"
After a few minutes of freaking out completely, we rally ourselves to our feet. Nate opens the front door and tells me to shut the door that leads upstairs. I think, 'good idea... protect the children.' Then I grab my phone, throw on the jacket we were hiding under moments ago, and go out onto the porch. As I dial my sister's number, I am hopping, trying to keep on my toes in case I have to duck as the thing comes careening out of the door. I call my sister because she has had bats in her basement before. There is a famous family story in which she shoots a bat with a bb gun and the blood splatters, ketchup-like, all over the ceiling. Eww. Anyway, I ask my sister what to do. She suggests a net. We don't have a net. But, wait, maybe it's all over. I can see Nate through the window. He's in the kitchen, bashing the floor with a broom. Repeatedly, and with moxie!
He comes out to say that the bat is dead. I feel terrible all of a sudden. We killed this little creature, and why? It was so small, and probably harmless. Why were we so scared? Plus, it's illegal to kill a bat. And I'm no lawbreaker. Now, Nate, on the other hand..... he was the one wielding the broom, if you'll recall.
Thankfully, Simon was in bed. To witness his parents cowering in fear from one of God's smallest creations would have surely traumatized him for life. Either that, or he would've lost all respect for us.

Hours later, my stomach is still in knots. It was freaky, that's all there is to it. God, I hope we never see another one.

What about you guys? Any bat-encounter stories?

Goings and Doings

2006-10-11T19:59:00.000-05:00

Haven't posted for a while... nothing big to report. Instead, lots of little things.

Tried a new recipe for dinner tonight. Curried Quinoa with Peas and Cashews. It will appear in the 4th annual Christmas cookbook, of course. If not for the fact that my grandma will receive a copy, the caption would be, "Fucking delicious." Buy this book. Then turn to page 534 and cook this shit.

We have made some new friends in our neighborhood, and, even though I still miss Logan Square enormously, it is a small mercy to make connections here. My friend's name is Rufina, and she is sweet. Seriously sweet. So sweet that I suspect she might have maple syrup running through her veins. Her daughter Elizabeth is nearly 3 years old, and she, not surprisingly, is also very sweet. She and Simon have had two successful playdates so far.

Simon is apparently beginning to notice racial differences in the people he sees. Or perhaps he has noticed for a while and is just now beginning to voice these observations. So far, strangely, he only has one description for any person of color he sees: "black man." One day I asked him what he did at school and he said he played with a black man. I wasn't sure what to make of this, as there are no black males in his class. There is one multiracial girl, and, after a bit of questioning, I concluded he must be taking about her.
Then yesterday, as we walked to our friends' house, he asked, "Is Elizabeth a black man?" I said, "Well, Elizabeth is a girl." He responded, "Is she a black girl?" I explained that she has brown skin because her mommy is from the faraway country of Mexico. Persistent in his quest for understanding, he asked again, "Is she black?" I gave him a couple terms to describe his friend: hispanic or latina.
It is interesting to watch his awareness of this matter develop. I don't know if I am saying the right things, or if there are right things to say. What I want to know is, where did he hear the words, "black man"? Here begins the stage in parenting when your children spout phrases and you have no idea where they came from. Fascinating and a little scary. His world is opening up, and it no longer consists of just mommy and daddy.

Yesterday I accompanied Simon's preschool class on their first field trip. We went to Kroger and then to Godfather's Pizza. The secrets of Godfather's pizza were revealed to us. We had a guided tour through the kitchen, dishwashing room, and cooler. Favorite moment: stepping into the cooler and seeing the kid's faced simultaneously change as they noticed the cold. Simon yelled, "Brrrrr!" and they all started giggling. Yeah, that's my kid.

Finally, on a sentimental note, we really miss you guys. Nate and I have experienced the move to Bloomington very differently. We have a hard time understanding one another sometimes. I'm crying because I miss Chicago; he's out taking scenic photos of our new town. I spend the day pissed about having to unpack/organize/decorate our second home in two years; he is happy to be driving a fork lift in a warehouse instead of doing the electronic equivalent of yelling "buy! sell! buy! sell!" all day. The one thing we can agree on about this move is how much we miss our friends. I don't know what our future will bring... we may live here for the rest of our lives, and it may begin to feel like home to both of us. Whatever happens, I know we will always reminisce about our years in Chicago, living in an amazing city, surrounded by great friends. Hope you're all well.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The Funniest and / or Scariest Man I Know

2006-10-02T09:26:00.000-05:00

On the Weight Watchers program, I am allowed a certain number of points per day (the points are calculated using the calories, fat, and fiber of each particular food). Yesterday Nate asked me how it was going, and I told him that on most days I have points to spare. Over the next several minutes he spouted the following quips:

You're the points queen.

If you were a dog, you'd be a pointer.

If you were a basketball player, you'd be the point-guard.

If you were an artist, you'd be a pointillist. And you'd be experimenting with point of view.

Later that evening, he left to fulfill a requirement for Simon's preschool. There is a large, not-for-profit haunted house in town, and participation in said haunted house is the single biggest (and the only mandatory) fundraiser for the school. This being his first time, I thought he might work the ticket booth or flip light switches or something else totally behind the scenes.

Instead, he came home looking like this:

The crazy thing is, with all the work that appears to have gone into this makeup, he said the part he played was minimal. Next time he wants to volunteer for a more extensive acting role. Stay tuned next week for pictures possibly even more terrifying than these.

Developments

2006-09-30T07:49:00.000-05:00

I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I was keeping the same schedule on the weekends as I did during the week, staying up at night and sleeping during the day. Last weekend I tried out changing it up and approximating a normal person's schedule on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and it worked pretty well. Obviously, this allows me more time with Laura, Theo and Simon. Also I can go to church on Sunday with them. Last Sunday was my first time there and I was pretty much amazed at how cool it was. I was sure that I'd never be satisfied with any church we found down here, I was really wrong about that. It's definately quite different than our last congregation, but while that's bad in some ways (the sanctuary doesn't even approach the beauty of the one in Chicago) it's good in others (they are much more on top of things regarding kids).
Waking up in the morning also gives me time to do one of my favorite things: make delicious breakfasts for myself, Simon and Laura. Today it was buttermilk pancakes (from scratch, I don't get down with mixes), Morningstar Farms Veggie Breakfast Sausage Patties (I admit I would have preferred real sausage but we don't keep much meat in the house), a tasty orange, and some really good coffee.
If we haven't already mentioned it, there is a great local grocery called Common Ground downtown. It's basically everything you want in a local grocery, locally grown produce, lots of packaged food that you can't find in the other stores (e.g. kombu), shabbily dressed cashiers that are all either under the age of 30 or older than 65, and a guy with a goatee who works "man" into every sentance he says and asks "where's your partner" when I go there without Simon.

On a wholly different subject... politics haven't shown up on this blog in a long time, mainly because the thing that I was most interested in over the last few months was the Israel-Lebanon conflict, which I pretty much am totally unqualified to write anything about. But I have no problem saying that I think this "detainee bill" (what the news organizations are calling it) is the dumbest thing that the congress has pulled during this Bush term, if not the dumbest thing they've done in my lifetime. And people don't care. It has fallen off of the front page of Google News and hasn't gotten that much traction in the mainstream media... not blaming mainstream media here as much as I'm saying that people just don't care so they're not going to waste time reporting on it. Sad stuff.

If I loved _, then maybe I'd like __.

2006-09-29T19:02:00.000-05:00

Hello, all. In my quest to shed the pounds that accompanied the creation of my second son, I am taking lots of walks. The goal is to leave as soon as Nate wakes up (around 4 pm) and walk for about an hour. Thus, I am spending a lot of time alone with the mp3 player, and I'd like some ideas for new music. Well, it doesn't need to be new, necessarily. During the past 3 years I have missed out on a lot of new music, I'm sure, due to hours spent listening to Raffi and Sesame Street instead of whatever hot new group most other 20 year olds were rocking.

I am a pretty normal, rocker girl when it comes to taste in music... nothing like my weirdo husband. Here are some albums that made my heart go pitter patter in years past:

Interpol (both albums)
Bjork - Vespertine
Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Common - Be
The Streets - A Grand Don't Come for Free
Arcade Fire - Funeral
Cat Power
and, most recently I've been enjoying Bloc Party - Silent Alarm

I hope those examples give you an idea of what I like... like I said, pretty normal stuff. Can you guys give me some ideas of what to download next? Even if something was hugely popular, don't assume I've heard it. Remember, I've been living in a dark hole of children's music for the past few years, so no suggestion will be too obvious.

Thanks.

2006-09-25T20:07:00.000-05:00

We have a vastly updated/improved list of links on the right. Click it up.

Most Fulfilling Conversation in my Career as a Mother Thus Far

2006-09-25T11:17:00.000-05:00

Me: I love you lots.

Simon: I want to watch TV.

2006-09-25T09:40:00.000-05:00

At Tanner's Orchard. Loving the pony ride. Grandpa named this horsey Trigger.

2006-09-25T09:38:00.000-05:00

Oh my god. Someone stop me before I eat this baby.

2006-09-25T09:37:00.000-05:00

One last hurray with the sippy cup. Also, check the shirt. You have never seen such a hip toddler before.

2006-09-25T09:35:00.000-05:00

Gotta love that shy little smile.

2006-09-25T09:30:00.000-05:00

In the realm of obnoxiously noisy toys, this turtle is the least irritating I have ever heard. Its little classical songs have a twinkling sound. I quite enjoy it. Plus, it puts Theo to sleep, so I'd be a fool not to love it.

2006-09-25T09:27:00.000-05:00

Simon and Theo in their favorite hangout, The Dinosaur Cage. The crib was given this name after the Salasaurus slept here during his visit.

A Quarter of the Way Toward My Goal of Becoming a Centenarian.

2006-09-24T19:27:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I turned 25. I got a porch swing, a beautiful letter from my husband, and a Weight Watchers membership. It was a nice day, but surprisingly void of any serious assessment of my life or reflection on age. Maybe my 26th birthday will involve a leisurely afternoon of self-evaluation, but I'm too tired for much thinking this year.

Update on the Big-Boy Cup:
The Goodbye Sippy Cups Ceremony was an unprecedented success. I am a parenting genius. He drinks from a cup now like he's been doing it his whole life. You know, all three years.

Tired

2006-09-19T10:02:00.001-05:00

I got a 4 hour stretch of sleep last night. It was the longest I've had in 3 nights. Theo, for God knows what reason, has been waking up about every hour or hour and a half. In the wee hours of the night, my utterly exhausted mind thinks maybe this would be a good time to throw him out the window. Or smother him with a pillow.

It's probably not his fault, though. Since he's been tiny we've been swaddling him before putting him to sleep, and I'm afraid our plan has backfired. Now he doesn't know how to sleep without being wrapped up as tight as... well, you know, something really tight. A mummy comes to mind. Anyway, we don't have any swaddling blankets that fit him anymore. So I often come back into his room to find one free arm flailing, slapping his face and waking him up. Then I think maybe I should throw the blanket out the window.

Not to worry, friends. With the break of day, my thoughts of infanticide and/or blanketicide all melt away. Daytime is all smiles and coos for Theo, and the past few days have ushered in his first giggles. There is nothing, NOTHING in the world cuter than baby laughter. Oh my god.

Simon is in his third week of preschool. He loves it, and we can see an inprovement in his behavior at home. He is better at entertaining himself, which is really a lifesaver for me. Last week I was the parent-helper in his class, so I got to witness the fun firsthand. My favorite moment was when all the kids started singing the Wonder Pets theme song together. It was clean-up time, and one of the kids said, "What's going to work?"
"Teamwork!" the class all answered. Then they started to sing. It was unbelievably cute. I guess we're not the only ones who love Linny, Tuck, and Ming-Ming.

I have been reading a new parenting book, and it's really good. I'm putting out a strong recommendation to all my friends with offspring. The author's goal is to give parents the skills they need to promote emotional health in their children. So far the focus has been on the way we speak to our kids. I'm learning how to praise more effectively, how to aviod judging his emotions, and how to quell conflict by mirroring his feelings. That last technique is fucking magic. It goes something like this:

Simon: I want to take my lollipop to bed.
Mommy: No, we cannot take candy into bed. You can see it again in the morning.
S: (whine and fake cry)
M: You are sad because you cannot take your sucker to bed.
S: (whine) Yes.
M: You are feeling disappointed that you can't take it with you. You are angry that you can't have it now.
S: (weaker whine) Yes.
M: You wish you could have it now instead of in the morning. You feel sad that you can't have your sucker in bed.
S: Yes. (hands me the lollipop and walks up to bed)

It takes a little time to mirror his emotions, but in the end he makes his own decision about what to do, and we don't have to have a battle. I'm not the bad guy who take his candy away; I'm the loving mommy who understands how he is feeling. It's pretty amazing, and as a result of applying these techniques, my last few days with Simon have been delightful.

Tomorrow is Simon's half-birthday, and I'm going to try a technique that isn't in my new favorite book, or probably any book. We're going to have a little party, then we're going to have a ceremony where we throw away all his sippy cups. We have been wholly unsuccessful in getting him to drink from a "big boy" cup, and I think it's time to draw a line in the sand. I thought a party would soften the blow. Wish us luck.

'tings

2006-09-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

Working nights now. 11pm-7am, so now on the weekends I'm up all night by myself, at least until I get used to the schedule, an then maybe I'll try messing around with it a bit. I'm trying to step up my pretentious/seminal movie viewing game. Watched Man With a Movie Camera and Last Days. I'm really digging this new Gus Van Sant shit, by the way. Didn't see Gerry, but Elephant and Last Days were both fantastic. I guess he's making up for that stupid ass Psycho remake.

So I done did a new song, all by myself. First time I've done that in a long time. Here's some linkage:

Dow Jones "Get Yr Paper Up"

It's my first attempt at a new genre, IJM, or Intelligent Juke Music. While I'm really happy with how the song sounds, I can't say it's a great example of what I imagine IJM to be. Maybe the next song I do will be a better example.

Firstborn

2006-09-05T09:54:00.000-05:00

When we lived in Chicago, getting Simon's hair cut was never a problem. Since we didn't get it cut often, we thought it was worth the splurge to go to Snippets, a Lincoln Park children's salon. They have seats shaped like cars and lions, and the walls are made to look like big trees. Most importantly, there are TV's everywhere, playing Dora the Explorer, The Muppets, or the kids' show de jour. Yeah, no wonder it wasn't a problem.

After moving, Nate's mom tried to take him to get his hair cut in Peoria, at a regular budget hair cuttery. No, sir. That was not happening. There was crying. There was screaming. There was running and kicking. Grandma surrendered, and Simon's mop continued to grow all summer.

Yesterday, after some persistent sweet-talking, I finally convinced him to get it cut. He drove a hard bargain, and before the negotiations were over I owed him a ride on the mall carousel and a lollipop. He looks handsome, huh?

Today was Simon's first day of preschool. He was very excited, and so was I. Here he is, exhibiting the world's cutest tiny turtle backpack.

Look at that face. Ooooo, oooo. We made a cute kid.
A good sign that a kid is ready for preschool, I think, is when you can't get their attention after they step into the classroom. As soon as we arrived, it was like I was no longer there. Bye, mom. I'm busy growing up.

Indeed.

2006-09-04T16:22:00.000-05:00

Bobby D., be proud.

Third Shift, Please Be Kind

2006-09-03T09:51:00.000-05:00

Theo slept through the night last night. 9 pm to 7 am. It was absolutely dreamy. I feel amazing this morning, like I could run a marathon. Or at least walk around the block.
I'm not expecting a repeat performance, though. If there's one thing I've learned from parenting, it's that change is the only constant. I'll just take each night as it comes, and be grateful for any small mercy.

Simon has been watching WonderPets all morning. We don't get Nick Jr., but Grandma Debbie bought 3 dvd's of this, our favorite show. Seriously, WonderPets is the best kids show ever. We all love it. Nate's mom, after hearing us rave about the show, did a little searching online with hopes of furthering her quest to buy Simon everything his heart desires. She found a site, which apparently looked legit, and put in her order. They arrived, but looked curious. No cases. Just three blank discs, wrapped in green bubble wrap. Grandma totally (but unknowingly) bought bootleg discs of our favorite show. And we are so grateful.

Nate is "sleeping in" this morning, after staying up as late as he could manage last night. This is his first attempt to acclimate his body to his new schedule. He starts third shift on Monday night at 11 pm. I got me a real working man now, with steel-toed boots and a union card. We're all hoping that the graveyard shift is a very temporary deal for us. Not the best arrangement for a family. The weekends will be the hardest, as Nate will have to maintain the same sleeping schedule 7 days a week. That means I don't really get a respite all week... I have the same childcare schedule 7 days a week. And Nate will miss out on the extra hours with his family that the weekend used to afford. Instead he'll spend the wee hours at home and alone, the solitary wakeful person in the house. I don't expect it to be too bad. Still, it will be nice to be normal people again, eventually.

September is here, and it is glorious. Have a lovely day, friends.

Cuteness Makes Everything Better.

2006-08-29T08:32:00.000-05:00

Back to Life, Back to Reality

2006-08-28T13:09:00.000-05:00

No, it's not 90's flashback day here at WuKids; it's the day Nate goes back to work and our good friends head back to their home in Kentucky after a week-long visit. It's the first day of my normal life after having had Theo and making the move to Bloomington. I'm finally on my own with these two boys, this time for good, not just for a day or two at a time. It's real and it's a long-term deal.
I've had a lot of help up until now... people going to the grocery store for me, people bringing me water while I nurse. I'm going to miss the special treatment, but I'm looking forward to establishing some sort of routine.
Simon begins preschool one week from tomorrow. I'm exited about my two hour break, but trying to keep a realistic view of what I can get done in that time. Maybe I'll just use it to nap for a while. Hmmm.

I tried to post some cute pictures to make up for the boring nature of this post, but Blogger isn't cooperating. I'll try again tomorrow. Until then.

On Being Your Own Expert

2006-08-26T19:42:00.000-05:00

I ran across this post, and it really expresses how I feel about certain baby books, and about relying too heavily on the "experts." Right after I had Theo, I was so frustrated and confused about which expert to listen to. Now, two months out, I feel much more confident about listening to myself. At first, I was obsessed with having a schedule. I felt like that was the only way I would survive. Now I feel like listening to my baby's cues is the best, easiest, and most manageable way. Moxie's post pretty much sums up my thoughts. And I'm going to subscribe to her blog now. A sleep-deprived mother can benefit greatly from the thoughts of a sensible, well-rested mother. Help me Moxie-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.

BFF

2006-08-26T09:42:00.000-05:00

Baby Feo* Forever.

*This is how my firstborn always refers to his little brother.

Bob Dylan: Good Songwriter, Bad Music Critic

2006-08-24T23:19:00.000-05:00

"You listen to these modern records, they're atrocious, they have sound all over them."

-Bob Dylan

P.S. I wonder what John Cage would think about this complaint.

This kid definately has my DNA

2006-08-23T23:31:00.000-05:00

In the car today, on our way to Wal Mart, a transcript of my convo w/Simon:

(turn on the car, radio is tuned in to WESN [which is not bad by the way])

Simon: What kind of music is this?

Me: Rock music. (Simon has been learning about the different genres of music lately)

Simon: What's this rock music about?

Me: It's about how this guy likes a girl.

Simon: I want to hear rap music.

Me: Me too.

Public Service Announcement

2006-08-19T12:30:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to post about this for a long time. I'm wondering if all you blog readers out there know about Bloglines. Nate and I are the only ones who subscribe to our blog, so I am guessing that our regular readers may not know about this awesome site.

Bloglines allows you to "subscribe" to your favorite blogs. Then, instead of going to each individual blog, you just log into your Bloglines and it tells you who has a new post. That way you don't have to come over here all the time only to discover that we haven't written anything new. It's so easy... I subscribe to 56 blogs. Since Bloglines tells me when they have a new post, I don't waste my time looking at old stuff. It's brilliant. You should try it. If you regularly read more than one blog, it's totally worth your time to go over there and create an account. You can thank me later.

Wu Tang is for the Children

Celebratory Photo Essay, Rehashed

Little Bit o' Crazy

The Onion

Pitchfork Gives Music 6.8

Didn't Quite Pass the Grandma Test

Michel Gondry on MTV Cribs

Listastic

letting go

Another Reason to Ignore the Laundry

Three Stories from the Streets of Bloomington

Blogging CSA --- Week 1 Menu

Animal Funnies and PSA

Weekend Update

strawberry boys.

As promised...

He's Strong, He's Fast, He's Everywhere...

Last Night with the Boogey Man

Retreat Review

Make Laura Laugh Challenge

Buying Power and Will Power

Look for me in the self-help section.

Blog as Baby Book

Documenting the Daily Battle

Hell yeah.

Potential New Theme Song

Happy Birthday, Dinosaur!

Funk, Be Gone!

I Have a Theme Song Too

Recovery as Roller Coaster

On Comfort

Snow Day

my kind of town

Because I could use a little levity.

Diagnosis & Prognosis

But it's only January...

Currently Occupying my Grey Matter

Urrrggggghh

A Quick Hello

One Thousand Circles and Happy Feet

Gifts in Harmony

Night From Hell, plus The Shirt

All is Quiet

Wednesday Picture Post: Projects and Objects

More Christmas Music

Moms Who Need Friends

Spreading Holiday Cheer

Let Them Eat Cookies

Where the Hell Have I Been?

The reindeer remind me of the range/ The icicles remind me of the rings

Tutorial: Making Fabulous Framed Prints Using Your Child's Art

Ridiculously Early Birds

New Obsession and Sheer Exhaustion

Afternoon Light Is The Best

My Child, Evil Genius and other random stories

Zoom In

Thursday Morning Picture Post

Keeping My Mouth Shut... For Now

Just Because...

Trashy

Wednesday *LOVE* List

A Little Excitement Around These Parts

Goings and Doings

The Funniest and / or Scariest Man I Know

Developments

If I loved _______, then maybe I'd like ________.

Most Fulfilling Conversation in my Career as a Mother Thus Far

A Quarter of the Way Toward My Goal of Becoming a Centenarian.

Tired

'tings

Firstborn

Third Shift, Please Be Kind

Cuteness Makes Everything Better.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

On Being Your Own Expert

BFF

Bob Dylan: Good Songwriter, Bad Music Critic

This kid definately has my DNA

Public Service Announcement

Wednesday LOVE List

If I loved _, then maybe I'd like __.