mamaloo

Happy Birthday, little Froggie

One year ago today, this is what we were doing:

I will always remember my first glimpse of you. The doctor performing your birth poked you over the curtain as soon as you were born, so I could see you. You looked exactly like this picture except you were screaming (rightfully so). I'll always remember that first glimpse. I had no idea what you would look like, and then suddenly there you were.

You and I spent your first days, just the two of us, in the hospital. It was instant love. You slept in the crook of my arm. You "got" breastfeeding right away. You slept easily and never cried, until they took you away from me to the nursery to weigh you. They told me it would take fifteen minutes but they kept you for over an hour and the nurse got snippy with me when I called them to say, "bring him back NOW." It was very late and I did not want to fall sleep without knowing where you were. You were crying at the top of your lungs when they brought you back. As soon as you hit my outstretched arms, you stopped crying. You knew who your mama was.

We really didn't know what to expect when we brought you home. We'd never had a second child before, only your brother. But you were nothing like your brother, you were YOU. You were your own self.

We were unprepared for the wealth of joy you would bring us. I called you "our little joy-bomb," because you were, a little joy-bomb going off and spreading your joy around, constantly. In those first weeks and months that most mothers of newborns are exhausted empty shells of their former selves, I was enjoying my new motherhood. Because you allowed me to.

Your brother, on the other hand, wasn't entirely sure we had not made a huge mistake. But he was willing to tolerate you. You were mostly just background for him and that was good enough.

Today, you two are great pals. You are a perfectly adoring little brother. You don't mind providing the audience for your divalicious older brother. That's what's so great about you.

And now, sweet Froggie, today, you are one year old! No more a baby, you are becoming a little boy.

Thank you so much for coming into our family. Thank you for your cheer and easy-going ways. Thank you for your joy and your affection and your sweet self. Thank you for you, little Froggie, and happy birthday.

Whatever works

Some kids take their lovie to the park. Other kids take their tricycle, or their comic books, or their superman outfit.

Our kid? Takes his humidifier. Otherwise known as "steam".

Steam is very important to take to the park, you see. Obviously! You never know when you're going to need a little humidity.

When you stop to smell the flowers, steam is there for you.

That plane in the sky? Don't worry--nothing a little steam can't handle.

"Did you see how steam handled that? Whoa!! I told you, steam is bad-ass!"

"I pledge allegience to steam!"

"Whatchoo talkin bout, steam?"

And for my next post, blah blah blah

This layout is a little weird. I'm testing what it does when I post a new post.

Tonight, I am dreaming of ocean property, of running away, of entire days to sleep. Sunshine and fragrant air and tickling breezes and soil that grows stuff without even trying.

Nowhere to be, no time to be there, and no end in sight.

Keywords: solitude, rest, relieved-of-duty.

A girl can dream.

Work in progress

time for new look and feel. i've been diddling the styles for way too long tonight and now i'm going to bed. stay tuned for fine tuning.

An Exuberant Life

Damn, these children exhaust me.

But they also inspire me. They just enjoy everything so much.

Sanity: The Gift that Keeps On Giving

In our little household, we needs all the sanity we can get. For this reason we are leaning towards not moving right now. Yeah, we're paying a few hundred bucks over market to live here. I'd love to get into a cheaper rental that we could settle into for a year or so and have a bit more bottom line to work with, but there's this other thing and that is that I'm feeling pretty fragile at the moment. All my feathers are in limbo, I can't feather my nest until we commit to one and it's really bugging me. I think what we need most right now is not moving, being here through the summer and landscaping the yard and just trying really hard to relax. I think we're almost sure we're gonna give that to ourselves as a little gift.

You know you're on a parent-date when

Your outfit is determined not by fashion but by what was clean.

You consider your inch-and-a-half heels "high" and, although you will never cop to it, you find them difficult to walk in.

On your way out the door, you notice and remove from your purse a weeks-old string cheese and two Gerber baby spoons.

You "apply" your makeup in the car. Which means you dig out the dregs of the lipgloss you keep forgetting to replace with the stick of the lollipop you keep in your makeup case for bribery.

At the bar, you blank out when the bartender asks, "what'll you have?" it's been so long since you ordered a drink.

There is absolutely no chance of running into somebody you know.

You keep smelling baby poo, even though this is technically impossible.

While you were getting wasted in college, the rest of the room was in the hospital getting born. This includes the band.

The glass your second drink is served in (in your own defense, the drinks are vodka martinis) through no fault of your own (mm-hmm) is returned to the bar in three pieces.

(E's interjection: When retrieving said glass pieces from the floor, your immediate and only thought is that "kids could get hurt." Then you realize everyone's over 21 and wearing shoes.)

You are relieved when nobody offers you a third drink.

You are yawning and clock-checking before the headliner even hits the stage.

3191

If you have not yet checked out 3191 (it tops the list to the left there), I heartily encourage you to do so. 3191 is a "visual blog" -- no text, just daily photographs taken by two friends each morning, 3191 miles apart. They do not coordinate the photos in any way, they each simply photograph their morning and post. Yet the photos are invariably and amazingly complementary to each other, and they're always serene and simply beautiful. It's like a little visual breath, each day.

Please hold

I have nothing to say, really, but figured you're all tired of looking at dental floss and I'd better get that off the "front page."  Not a whole lot going on, we're kind of in a holding pattern as we decide (ugh) whether or not we are staying here in our perfect but terribly overpriced rental, or God-forbid MOVING in five weeks. Believe me, I do not want to move. The last move almost did me in. But it is true, we are paying more or less a mortgage payment here and that's depressing. We have resolved that either we'll find a better rental that is significantly lower in price, thus making the hell of moving worth enduring, or, we'll stay here and just suck it up for six more months. Financially, I am willing for the former although emotionally and physically I am praying for the latter. Well not praying really but you know what I mean.

The first weekend that we figured out that this moving decision was looming and not in the distant future like we'd like to think, we looked on Craigslist to see what there was to see. I found the ideal rental. No really, the IDEAL rental. It was several hundred dollars less than this one, in a great neighborhood, walking distance to three households that we know and love, had a great landlord and the backyard, oh the backyard. An artists' studio connected to the house by a breezeway constructed of vintage windows and doors on hinges that opened! A huge tree. A drive-in gravel parking area, gated. GATED! With small children, being able to drive into your own yard and gate up behind you before letting them loose is no small thing. Two baths, one with a clawfoot tub with windows (E's fetish). BUT. It was a Victorian. With the bedrooms up-stairs (steep ones) and a vintage Wedgewood gas stove. And old sash windows probably crawling with lead paint. And if you've been reading here for a while you'll know we just moved from a Victorian with bedrooms upstairs and a vintage gas stove, and lead paint, because of those very things (among other reasons). Sure, you can make any house work with baby proofing and the like, but it has been really really nice NOT to have to be on guard so much in our own home. The rental really tempted us, we absolutely love appealing outdoor spaces, and so we thought about it hard but had to pass. What a shame but you know, being balanced is a good thing. In the past we'd have fallen in love with that house and yard and despite reservations we'd have moved in anyway. Instead we were honest with ourselves. No more Victorians. They are lovely and if E and I had no children, well then yeah. But we are living for these boys now, and our housing has to reflect that. So the search continues.

In terms of me, I've been really reclusive and probably not too healthy (mentally) -- no cause for alarm, I mention it only to explain why I'm not blogging much. Just totally blah inside. Hurry up sunshine, I need more of you.

PSA

If you never thought you'd hear the words "this floss freakin' rocks!" come out of your mouth, do yourself a favor and buy this kind next time:

It has a whitening toothpaste in it. In the floss. Doesn't that make perfect sense? I've been using it a week and my mouth is so clean, I like want to suck my own face!! My gums are doing push-ups!! And I swear it's whitening my teeth. Just forget about carrying a toothbrush around with you, keep a pack of this in your purse or pocket and you can be mint-tingley fresh all day long.

I don't even work for them or anything.

Seriously addictive (of all things) floss! Who knew?