I’ve made a rather horrifying discovery about myself today.

You know that smile, the polite one you give a co-worker in the hallway at work or to a total stranger as you stroll through the park? It’s supposed to say, “Hi! Hope you’re having a pleasant day and I acknowledge you!” I caught a glimpse of mine today and it didn’t say that.

Nope.

It said, “HI! I’m damaged and would like to stalk you! Will you be my mother?”

I would post a photo of me doing the face but then my readership truly would become non-existent and well, I’m needy and can’t cope with that possibility.

Why hasn’t anyone pointed this out to me? I mean, it probably would have made me ball up in a corner and rock back-in-forth in shame, but COME ON, PEOPLE! I’ve been frightening small children with that evil little grin turned grimace turn PSYCHO KILLER, qu'est que c'est (ba ba ba baaah, ba ba baaaah ba ba ba, baba).

I’m off to stare at my image in the mirror and try to come up with something less threatening.

Say Cheese

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Originally uploaded by gingerlane.

This is the face my daughter makes when you ask her to smile. Cracks me up, every time.

My daughter is brilliant.

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Originally uploaded by gingerlane.

I spent ten hours at work today, got scolded by my husband and drove home way too fast so that I could see Lily before she went to bed. As soon as I walked in the door, Lily jumped off the couch and went running into the dining room, indicating I should go there too. She climbed up on the chair and pointed at something. She and Mark had glued sticks and pasta to construction paper in one of her first artistic projects. He had told her that when Mommy got home, she could show them to me. And she did. She had remembered. Thus, she is the most brilliant 22-month-old on the planet.

Sandbox mayham.

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Originally uploaded by gingerlane.

Lily and the Myles get acquainted.

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Originally uploaded by gingerlane.

The Myles helps with some yard work.

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Originally uploaded by gingerlane.

Barely a boo-boo.

My daughter got stung by a bee for the first time today.

OK, she stepped on a dried up, dead bee and the stinger broke off in her foot and I don’t even think she got any of the nasty evil venom stuff. She wasn’t pleased with the whole ordeal but was easily distracted when I stuck her in her happy place: the bath. Now she’s got a little tiny red spot.

So, does that even count as a bee sting?

Come together.

So we all got together, KB, Daphne and our families. And lo, it was good.

Well, it actually started off a little crappy and by that I mean the weather. For some reason, I was feeling very responsible for the fact that water was indiscriminately falling from the sky; likely because these people had agreed to come south so that I would have as little driving to do as possible (what with being the eight-months-pregnant chick that has the insane need to pee the second I get in the car). When we arrived at the park we discovered that Lily’s diaper had leaked, all we had was a pair of shorts to change her into and so, she was now wet, cold and we had failed as parents to provide her with suitable attire. Enter KB and a pair of the Myles pants and we were saved! Yeah! Lily had also spent the night before waking to cough and call for her daddy, so I was a little worried about the fact that we were letting her loose in the rain. I should have just invited everyone to our house to start with but was reluctant to have them do any more driving. After an hour of sitting in the rain (and look, now Lily’s pants that were borrowed from the Myles are soaked because she went down a wet slide, wha-who!) we all packed up and headed more south to sunshine and my house.

We all had a blast once we weren’t worried about the weather. We let the kids loose on the sandbox and playhouse, both huge hits. Myles helped Mark rake out the future site of the hot tub (yes, I said hot tub), the dog was suitably obnoxious and licked some of the amazing deviled eggs Daph made, Brian gave us some music and movies, it was all good. We ate too much food and yet, had enough of a chicken carcass for me to give my first go at making chicken soup from scratch (hey, that’s BIG in my domestic drop-out existence).

KB and Jason are wonderful people, fun and intelligent to talk to and so warm and caring. The Myles is just as cute in person as he is on his mama’s blog. Daph and Brian crack me up on a regular basis and are just the most honestly nice people you’ll even meet. Their daughters are adorable, generous and sweet. You couldn’t ask for a nicer bunch of folks to come visit your home on a Sunday.

I’ll get some photos posted as soon as I can.

The people who made me who I am.

As I was walking into work today I started thinking about my mom and dad. First of all, I have amazing parents. My mom is the kind of mom I strive to be to my young children. I feel very lucky to have been raised in such a loving and caring way and look back fondly at the photos of Matt and I, half naked and covered in paint swipes as we sat outside somewhere with paint brushes and large cardboard boxes “decorated” with our own creative vision. My dad always treated us with respect and as though we were equals. Don’t get me wrong, he was DAD when he needed to be, but he chose to use that power for good, rather than evil.

I have a couple of memories that freeze in my mind at certain times and for me, they paint who my parents are. There is a photo of my mother, from before I was even born, with her long hair and shy smile. I see the young woman my dad originally fell in love with in that photo and while I think I only saw it once, it’s stays with me. Another shows us with heads close together as I point at something in the distance and my mom is watching me discover my world, this amazing look on her face of love and pride. I see her on our couch, laying down for “just ten minutes” after a long day at work, followed by school, followed by coming home to teens who didn’t appreciate her. My mom got her Masters while working full time and raising us alone and I know it was HARD.

My favorite image of my dad is from those days following my parents divorce when he would pick us up for Wednesday night dinner. He used to take us to Round table Pizza and one night “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones came over the juke box. I see him wagging his head back and forth and pounding his fists on the table, singing the words. I should have been embarrassed (I was a teen, after all) but instead I saw him as this guy… not my dad, but a guy who loved the Stones and loved pizza and well, loved his kids. Sometimes I see him as the man I once walked in on as he cried in his bedroom, and am still amazed that he let me sit and talk with him rather than chasing me out of the room because of some inflated sense of pride.

My parents are good people and I love them deeply, despite any flaws they think they have or I think they have. I make fun of them both, here and elsewhere and sometimes choose to vent my frustrations at them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love and respect them. I know how CRAZY some families are and feel very lucky that at my core, I have two parents that love me madly. I like who they are and who they have helped me become.

From my mom I get the unique talent of reading into what people say. We both do it and neither one of us likes to admit it. She says, “Oh my” and I read into it a whole speech about indecency and decide I know what she thinks of me. I say how I feel about something and she decides that I am making a direct comment against her. Why do we do this to those we love? I don’t know.

Of all the posts I have written, I just hope my mom reads this one. Because she thinks I don’t want her at the birth of our next child. She thinks I’m banning her because I’ve asked her to be with my daughter. She doesn’t realize how deeply I need to know that Lily is cared for and how passionately I feel that she is the only one who I can trust for such a task. I thought I explained it to her, but I don’t think she believes me. I think she believes I made all that up to make her feel useful. I need her to know she is wrong. I need her to know that I need her. I just need her in a different way than I needed her when Lily was born and I am sad that she thinks this need is less. It’s time for us to actually talk to each other rather than make little comments and then decide what the other is saying. Now I just have to figure out how to do it without turning into an obnoxious teenager.

Injustice

A friend called me today because one of her best friends has had her children pulled by DCFS and is panicking. Here's the story as she told it to me:

Her nine-month-old son had a cough ongoing for a couple of months and after trying to treat with Chinese medicine her acupuncturist suggested she take the child to an MD to get a chest x-ray for pneumonia. She did and the MD found a fractured rib, called DCFS and her kids were taken (she also has a four-year-old daughter). The state is now claiming that she has put her children at risk by not immediately taking him to an MD, not vaccinating her kids, breastfeeding a nine month old, and co sleeping with her children. They are claiming he daughter is depressed and want to put her on meds (duh, she's been separated from her parents, of course she's depressed) and her son is regressing (he's had four ear infections in the last month of custody, chicken pox, is loosing weight and is no longer walking). She is being told that if she admits guilt she'll get her kids back and that if she won't, she'll never see them again.

We don’t take Lily to well baby visits and have treated the few illnesses she’s had with non-traditional medicine. She got a nasty eye infection once and when we were unable to resolve it with alternative meds we called an MD and had it taken care of with prescription meds. Much like these parent’s actions.

We believe in delayed and selective vaccination because our research has showed it to be SAFER than routinely injecting your child with the massive amounts of toxins included in vaccines. I know too many people who have suffered through vaccine injury and I’m not willing to take that chance with my daughter at this age. Now that she’s getting older we’ll start doing some vaccines but not likely the fully recommended course.

Breastfeeding a nine-month-old should not be an issue. The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) recommends at least one year and the World Health Organization (WHO) recommends at least two. The AAP has even made some noise about coming into alignment with the WHO and recommending two years, but is still under massive pressure from formula companies. Even if she is exclusively breastfeeding this child (meaning, no solids) she is still not guilty of harm: a child can be fully sustained on breastmilk alone for the fist year of life. Just go talk to La Leche League (LLL).

Co-Sleeping is a world wide practice that has been the norm for YEARS. It’s only in the last century that cribs have become the accepted norm in the US. Sharing sleep with your baby has been proven safe when done correctly (don't drink, smoke or take drugs, for instance). In fact, some studies show that babies that share sleep with their mothers suffer lower incidents of SIDS. I remember Lily spitting up one night and starting to choke. I was able to quickly respond to her needs by waking up and flipping her before she could aspirate any spit up. Having her sleep between the two of us made life easier as I could just nurse her in bed and not have to run off after her many times a night. Had she not had a shift and needed to sleep alone after the first year, she’d still be sleeping with us. I know many people who share sleep with their children and I don't know ONE who has had a bad outcome becuase of it.

Many of these things are part of what is commonly called Attachment Parenting (AP). It’s practiced wildly by caring, attentive parents all over the world. It’s a respectful and fulfilling way to parent that honors the child and the parents. It has been shown to raise respectful, secure and smart kids and there is no way in HELL that what this mom is doing is abuse. If she’s guilty of abuse than so are we and quite frankly, that scares the crap out of me. It should scare the crap out of all of us.

I don’t know what I can do for this mom but am tapping into my AP networks to see how she can get her children back home where they belong. I am asking for prayers/thoughts/whatever you do for this family. I would lose my mind if Lily was taken from me in this manner. I can only imagine the hell this family is enduring. It breaks my heart.

It’s long. Deal.

Maya woke me at 4:30 in the morning with the characteristic sounds of a dog getting ready to heave up something delightful. Mark and I have both become amazingly adept at leaping from bed and maneuvering the offending animal onto the tile floor to ease in clean-up. I’ve been known to fling the cat while still half asleep if she even thinks about depositing a hairball on top of my sleeping form. Maya, at about 65 pounds, isn’t flingable, but I was able to spin her upper body around in time. She threw something up that was not the dog food we give her, so I guess our little lab is a great and mighty huntress now. I climbed back in bed and had this bizarre moment where I looked down at my belly and thought for a moment, in my half-awake fog, that I wasn’t pregnant and had to grab at my belly and feel around for the baby in a slight panic. I read for a bit, just in case she decided to go a second round and then turned out the lights to settle back to sleep.

To sleep.

Perchance to dream.

Uh, no. I lay there for about three hours trying to sleep but never really getting there. I heard my MIL get up and so, sent the dog upstairs for her breakfast. I heard Lily chattering herself awake and the sounds of Heidi getting her up and changed. I watched the light creep into the room and the kitty race around like a freak; all from a haze of half sleep. At about 7:30, when I should have been getting up for work, I feel into a deep sleep and had the most bizarre dream.

I often dream of my teeth breaking and fishing piece after piece out of my mouth while sobbing. This, I believe, has to do with a horrid car accident I was in as a teen on a trip down to Mexico. My best friend at the time was sitting in the back seat with just a lap belt and the impact of the crash swung her head forward, smashing her chin into the back of my seat and breaking her jaw. While we were being tended to by the nuns from the mission nearby, Misty was in shock and kept asking me over and over again, “Where am I? What happened? Why are you crying?” Then she stopped and told me there was something in her mouth. I held up a shaking hand and asked her to spit it into my palm. She deposited several of her teeth into my hand, all in fragments. This has, understandably, been showing up in various scenarios throughout my dream world ever since… although it is always my teeth and never again has it been hers.

In any event, the dream started with my teeth breaking and me trying to get to my mom, who lived in this ratty apartment in a very urban area. And my mom wasn’t my mom, but this skinny shrew who chain-smoked in the bathtub and thought I was a whiney little bitch (my mom is NONE of these things, just for the record). My brother was living in this dank, dark apartment as well and was a total freeloader jerk without his wife or son. It was like the nightmare version of my family. My mom flushed my teeth down the toilet and for some reason I had wanted to keep them. So I left, returning to work, I think and started walking through the city – which was very San Francisco-ish with steep streets and row homes. I ran into this middle aged Japanese guy in a business suit who I apparently knew and he was telling me how he wanted a photo next to a street sign that read: “Assassin Street.” He wanted this photo because he had just assassinated Pavarotti the night before and was very proud. I cannot remember who his next “target” was, but I remember wondering if I should tell anyone.

I continued along Assassin Street and at the top of the hill this makeshift temple had been erected in the middle of the street. There were all these homeless, hippie types at the temple, building it up out of boxes and scrap lumber and a Buddhist monk sitting on a platform in the middle of it all. “Is the path clear?” I asked as I tried to pass. He nodded and I climbed the stairs and tried to pass through. This is when I was tackled by a dwarf who claimed he was “just a slave” but wanted me to sit on the futon and stay for the talk. Next door was an abandoned building and I knew that lots of homeless people lived there. I remembered someone telling me about this one guy who lived there who had really screwed up eyes. One was puffy and half closed all the time and both were cross-eyed. I had been told that he was a photographer of some brilliance, but his true passion was to become the captain of his own boat and sail the Caribbean. This very same man sat down next to me and we started to talk. Just before I woke up I was thinking how incredibly pompous he was and was trying to figure out how to get myself out of talking to this guy.

Apparently waking up didn’t quite get me out of the dream. I pushed myself awake, noting that it was 8:30 and I’m usually at work by nine. On the sheet next to me, I noticed a crumpled little speck, which on closer inspection I discovered was a small crushed spider. A look in the mirror showed me that he probably bit me on the face. Gahh! In stack contrast to waking at 4:30 and thinking I wasn’t pregnant, this morning I woke feeling insanely pregnant. I rolled into the shower, stumbled up the stairs to feed myself and cuddle my happy toddler and then got myself into the car for work. I spent the next couple of hours in a surreal fog and am just now getting myself together. I feel like writing this all out is pulling me from that odd half space and I am starting to be able to function like a normal human being. Was this from last nights purple cow perchance? Or did the spider have mystic powers? If my face swells up and falls off, I say you can all blame it on the spider.

Ode to a purple cow.

During the end of my pregnancy with Lily I remembered my favorite treat from my childhood summers. We used to go to this family camp every year and we’d hike into town one day to the soda shop. I would always order the same thing: a purple cow. It’s a very simple treat, just a float made from vanilla ice cream and grape soda. I looked forward to that trip every year and would just about lose my mind with joy if we made it up to Julian (the little town) on an additional trip, begging my dad for a stop at the soda shop. My parents were wise enough to keep the recipe from me and fostered my belief that this was only place a purple cow could be had. Smart parents. I only felt slightly betrayed when I realized how simple this wonderful treat really was to make.

While pregnant, I never once sent Mark out in the evening for a craving until this memory flooded back. I sent him out at 9pm (a totally respectful hour to send your husband to the store, might I add) to fetch me the needed ingredients for my craving. I had one every night for the last trimester. Who’d a thunk my baby would end up having a dairy allergy and I’d have to cut ice cream out of my diet after she was born.

It’s a lovely perfect thing that my pregnant self just seems to need. I don’t have them when not pregnant and it only seems to be a third trimester craving. I’m guessing there is some deep psychological meaning to all of this. Rather than analyzing it too much, I’m just going to enjoy a delicious glass of ice cream and grape soda. Cheers.

Just showing off my beautiful man.

Fun with household "pets."

Guess what I found in my living room today? A freaking centipede! I nudged it into the middle of the room with the remote control, took a shoe and pressed down as hard as I could AND IT JUST KEPT GOING. So then I smacked the crap out of it with said shoe… it lived. My MIL was not thrilled and between the two of us we captured the wounded creature in a jar and I had the pleasure of looking at it up close. Nasty looking little thing. Oh and most of the stuff I read about them says they are about an inch and a half long. Um, NOPE. This bad boy was at least four inches. I’m going to save it to show Mark when he gets home on Wednesday but doubt it will live that long. I don’t know how it got into my living room and am totally freaked out that it was here at all and yet, have always been oddly fascinated by such things. Do you have any idea how fast those things move? It was wild. And it’s got this wicked looking tail at the back end and pinchers up front that apparently cause quite a bit of pain and swelling. I’m glad Lily was already asleep.

Guess what else I found in my house today: a rabbit’s foot. Nope, not the variety you find in a cheap store that you rub for good luck. We’re talking a full foot… with tendons and red bloody muscle attached. I stopped in my tracks and went, “oh.” MIL was terrified of the centipede but somehow, bits of bunny did not cause her pause. She took care of it for me as I was trying to keep my lunch down and then went out to the yard and found the head and some other random parts. Maya was very proud of herself and was just waiting for me to tell her what a good dog she was for catching such a creature, killing it, eating about 80% of it and then bringing me proof. I’m a bad pet mom and haven’t congratulated her yet.

Someone want to tell me why this kind of excitement is reserved for when Mark is out of town and my MIL is visiting? She must think we live very interesting lives. And for the record, the rabbit bits happened first but I was so excited about the centipede that I didn’t blog ‘till that happened. The rabbit still makes me just a little nauseated. And just so I don’t forget the rabbit incident, the dog has the most wickedly awful farts to remember it by. Bonus! It’s gonna be fun sleeping in my room tonight!

Other bits of fun from today:
Lily had a repeat of the freak out from yesterday and I got to watch this time. I started singing the three verses of “Hush Little Baby…” I actually know (is there a verse mentioning the "five-and-dime" or am I on crack?) and that finally calmed her down. I also broke out the rescue remedy and am hoping that helped. Putting her to bed was also a triumph of song. She was freaking out (like she does every night, Pinky) because she didn’t want to go to bed, so I started singing some random made up bit over and over again. She let me put her in her crib and leave the room singing and didn’t make a peep of protest. She just went to sleep. Does anyone know how amazing that is? Anyone? Seriously, I think I’ll be getting some sort of medal or something.

An old man disapproved of what he clearly thought was my permissive parenting style at the Souplantation today. Ummm, bite me little old grumpy man. You don’t know jack crack about the way I parent and unlike you I don’t see my child having fun as a sign of bad parenting. And hello, THREE of her grandparents were around the table and they weren’t concerned so just piss off, Wilber! You don’t have the right to do the “bah-humbug” hand wave and tell me that my child was going to get hurt if I don’t control her. Unless you're the one planning on hurting her it’s none of your DAMN business. Grrrrr.

Time for bed.

May there be no centipedes or bunny body parts in my bedroom. Aho.

My daughter is strange.

I just hung up with my MIL who is helping care for Lily while Mark is out of town on a gig. I hadn’t had time to check in with her all day and figured it was about time. Here’s what she told me about what Lily had done today:
Around two o’clock she went down for a nap without a squawk. She was out for about forty minutes when she suddenly screamed! Heidi went booking it in there to find her not really awake but with eyes open and thrashing around dramatically in her crib. Heidi plucked her up and Lily fought being held but didn’t want to be back in her crib, no way, no how. So the two of them go cruising into the main house and Lily, still sobbing, decides she must eat. OK. Sure. So Heidi lets her pick out some yogurt from the fridge, gets her into her chair, sets her up with a bib, opens up the chosen yogurt, sticks a spoon in it and… WAHHHHHH! More screaming; as though the world is ending, screaming. Heidi gets her out of her chair and Lily throws herself across the room to the window looking out on the pepper tree (which, btw she told me a whole story about this morning), and wails some more. Heidi said Lily finally worked it all out of her system and then took little tiny, one inch steps all the way back to her Grandma who was waiting patiently for her at the stairs. And then she was fine.

Only thing we could fathom is that she had one heck of a nightmare and it took her a while to work through it. She’s never done that to Grandma Heidi before and a little part of me was like, “See! See how she’s insane sometimes?” She’s such an angel around people who are not me and usually reserves such behavior for her dear mommy. I also get all the hitting, kicking, pinching and biting. Us mamas are lucky, because you know why our babies do this kind of thing? Because they know that no matter what they do, we will love them. So with us, they push the limits. With us, they see how far they can go before we show them the boundary. We map their world and dammit, sometimes it hurts. You know you are loved and trusted when your toddler takes your face in her sweet, grubby little hands, strokes your cheeks while whispering “nice” and then gently and tenderly leans into you and BITES YOU ON THE FREAKING NOSE.

She is SO styling.

34 weeks (almost there!).

Things I just don’t get:

Republicans: I’m sure there is some logic to their point of view but as someone who grew up the child of hippies and who has spent my entire adult life working in the arts, I just can’t figure those people out. I do find it interesting that historically, while republicans are in the white house the NEA enjoys better funding than when there is a democrat in there, but don’t know yet what that means. Of course you could easily argue that the NEA is not exactly a liberal organization, so maybe that has something to do with it.

Religious zealots: I get passion. Hell, I like passion. But passion about religion kinda freaks me out. Do these people realize that they are making up their own versions of what someone put down on paper FOREVER ago, in another language, that has since been translated, maybe or maybe not accurately? And they take this as the literal “word of God” and get all smug and self righteous and in your face. I have nothing against the cool Christians who do their Christian thing and don’t try to tackle me on the street with literature and screams about hellfire and damnation. But those who feel they need to “save” me just because I believe differently then they do… I just don’t get them.

People who HATE living in this country: OK, don’t read this wrong. I think dissent and questioning authority is always a good thing. Our society would never move forward unless there were those that found fault and worked to enact social change. I’m all good with that. It’s the people who whine about how their lives suck and the country sucks and the president sucks AND THEY DIDN’T EVEN VOTE that I cannot stand. I figure if you don’t vote than your whining rights should be in instantly revoked (unless you’re under 18). And if you really think this country is so awful, I say go on! Get out. Go see how you like it elsewhere. Canada is right up the road and Mexico is nice this time of year. Give it a whirl and see if it makes you happy. Quite frankly, I feel pretty damn fortunate to be living in this country during this time in history. My rights and abilities as a woman are pretty freaking amazing when you see how it is in some other parts of the world.

Haggis: really, do I have to explain this one?

How we haven't already suffered a fiery death of the freeway: I don’t see how there aren’t more of them. Have you been on the road with a freshly licensed teenager? Have you experienced road rage? Have you SEEN the way some people drive? How are we not all dead?

SUV’s: OK, I gotta be careful here because I actually drive a mini version of an SUV (RAV4) and I have a lot of friends who drive the full blown types and I’d rather not piss anyone off. But unless you are actually carting around six kids and the dog, while making trips to Costco, on dirt trails, in the snow then tell me what you need a gas guzzler like that for? They are too big, don’t brake well, are terribly uneconomical, don’t hold together well… I just don’t get it. Someone please enlighten me; I am willing to learn.

The Sense of Entitlement so many people seem to have: Ummm, whoever said it would be easy and life would simply hand you all you ever wanted without working for it? Yes, people should be able to get what they want but they should have to work for it. Don’t whine about being broke when you own a home you cannot afford a car that is socially and economically irresponsible, go out to eat every night of the week and spend thousands of dollars a year at clubs and bars. It’s an unreal expectation for life, folks! Slow down and get there on a reasonable schedule!

How I turned into a curmudgeon: Seriously, I’m going to start standing out at the mail box, scratching my ass and yelling at all the kids to “Stop having all that fun!” anytime now. Did I seriously just rail against SUV’s and self important idiots? I believe all of that! I do! Does that make me a curmudgeon? Well, if it does than I guess I should just embrace it and move on, before this post gets so long you all have to write posts about how you don’t get people who write LONG ASS posts. Bahh!

Wanna hear what we sound like?

Swim doesn’t have to suck!

Lily now looks forward to swim class. If you say, “Lily, are you going to go swimming today?” She’ll nod her head, big smile on her face and head for the door while saying, “yeah, yeah!” She’s excited when she gets there, heads straight for the pool, loves watching the kids jump in, urging them on with cries of, “Jump! Jump!” and giggles. She is eager to get into the pool and float around with Daddy or Grandma and now only cries when the instructor comes to dip her. The funny thing is, she’ll see John Paul coming, hold out her arms so he can pick her up, get dipped and then give him a high five… all while crying. She actually seems to be enjoying it, just seems to feel as though it’s mandatory to cry at him. My mom is going to sign her up for another session and we’ll keep it going. I, however, will continue to stay away. I only have so much resolve.

Have you ever had to pee so badly that even while you are peeing you feel no relief and only find yourself repeating (in your brain, not aloud… ‘cause that would be weird) “I gotta pee, I gotta pee, I gotta pee …”?

Ah, the joys of pregnancy!

'Cause I'm a dork!

GAME!

Things that need to happen before this baby comes topside:

DONE: Buy homebirth supplies.
DONE: Set up birth pool (might as well get some fun out of it with Lily).
DONE: Blow up the birth ball (oh, more fun with Lily!).
DONE: Organize diaper supplies and see what we still need (covers!).
DONE: Go through baby clothes and pull out needed items; launder the suckers.
* Select a pediatrician that doesn’t suck eggs.
* Buy and assemble dresser/changing table for our room.
* Buy changing table topper (contour style) and covers.
* Build/install shelf for diaper supplies in our room.
* Find/install dimmer switch to shelf.
* Put the small TV in the bedroom for the late-night-won’t-sleep-mamas-going-insane-and-needs-to-zone-
out-on-bad-late-night-TV evenings. Cable would be nice too. OH, and a VCR!
* Make enough freezer food to feed a small African nation.
* Go see a movie or two in the theatre with my husband.
* In fact, a couple of date nights would be brilliant.
* Rest.

Back from the cold desert.

Ken and Mary got hitched this weekend and so we took the trek out to Phoenix to witness the event. The drive usually takes about five hours, unless you are traveling with a pregnant lady and a toddler. Add an hour for each and you have our approximate travel time. Here’s some photo and commentary from our travels.



One of the rest stops we peed at (and yes, I will pee in a port-o-potty if need be, I’m over seven-months-pregnant and will stop at nothing to empty my bladder) had a little hole full of fire ants. Lily was fascinated with these little creatures and if I had been in charge I would have scooped her up and ran like HELL away from the freaky little biters. But since Mark was watching her they chose instead to throw sticks in the hole and watch as the ants worked together to pull the things out. They had a blast.

Shortly after that stop, Lily became very restless and so we decided to let her friend Piggy drive.



He did rather well and only ran us off the road two or three times (but who’s counting?). If nothing else, it made Lily very happy to see the little man take such position in the world.

We got into Phoenix at about eleven at night and without a hotel reservation had to head towards the wedding site and see what we could find around there. By this point I had a raging cold and was producing more snot than should be allowed. Lily was sleeping soundly while I sang a song about my eyes feeling like little black coals in my head. We finally found a Hampton Inn… which was booked solid. But the nice lady behind the counter was kind enough to give us some phone numbers and before long we were checking into a Days Inn. Cheap AND the room was nice. Lily woke up and ran around like a freak in the room for a bit before we wrestled her into the king size bed and held her down until she passed out again. Let me just tell you one thing, sharing a bed with a toddler in a king size is VASTLY different than sharing a bed with a toddler in a queen. I couldn’t even find that child and my husband was in another country he was so far away. She still managed to grope at my face and drive me slightly batty until I turned my back on her. Unfortunately my cold had me waking every hour or so to drink water, shove Kleenex up my nose and yes, pee. Lily had us up and hungry fairly early and we called my sis and her hubby to meet up for breakfast at the Cracker Barrel. We don’t have Cracker Barrel’s in California and my goodness it was yum. And by that I mean there was LOTS of it. I like food.

Back to the hotel for a nap and then off to the wedding site. Now here’s something interesting: Phoenix is in the desert, which is where they keep all the heat. IT WAS COLD. Clouds, wind and rain off in the distance. Cold. Lily started out in her cute little yellow dress and ended up in an extra pair of pants, sweater and jacket. But there was a playground nearby and THAT was all she needed to be happy.



Two skinned knees later (this was before the pants when she was just wearing the shorts) and she’s still happy. See:


And just look at this if you wanna be overwhelmed with cute:


We made it through the actual wedding ceremony with only one meltdown which was quickly halted by the wedding planner swooping over with crackers in hand to distract her from the horror that was the dropped cookie. Brilliant woman. Afterwards we were blessed with the presence of Cristianna who was our flower girl at our wedding five years ago. She has grown to an amazingly wonderful nine-year-old who Lily instantly fell in love with. The two spent a great deal of time off at the park and Mark and I had moments of enjoying each others company like real adults rather than monkeys.



OK, so she looks scared, but she actually had a blast with her new friend. Cristianna carried her all over the place… tough little girl, if you ask me.

Everyone was gathering over at the Bride and Grooms house after the wedding to drink themselves silly but Lily and I ended up crashed out in the hotel room. Mark went alone and enjoyed some time with friends he doesn’t get to see very often. I enjoyed some sleep in between waking every hour or so to drink water, shove Kleenex up my nose and yes, pee. Another Cracker Barrel visit in the morning and then we hit the road once again to get our butts back to my comfortable bed and air with some moisture in it. Phoenix may have been uncharacteristically cold but it was quite characteristically dry. She did pretty well on the trip home, thanks to Mark’s computer acting as a DVD player, me sitting in the back seat with her and some books from KB.



This shot was taken right before she decided to smash her feet inside the book (something that is outrageously funny, if you ask her) and rip a page. She enjoyed some nice board books after that little feat (HA, a PUN!). Am happily home now where I can post any word I want from my own computer in my very nice living room with my freaky dog running around in my very own yard and waiting for my very own cat to come and try to take over my lap. It’s good to be home. Even if the dog just ate about a pound of homemade playdough. Now that’s gonna be pretty on the way out!

Internet whore.

I'm checking email at the library and here's what I found funny:
1.) I have 8 minutes left
2.) ChickenFlickens site is disallowed (your mouth, girl!)
3.) Coffeegirl's site looks FUNKY
4.) OneHotMama, one of my favorite online chat groups, won't come up at all. IT'S NOT PORN you library natzis!
5.) Can I spell check?
6.) Down to 7 minutes.
7.) I've got only a 1/2 hour left before I need to go pick up my daugter. I'm in the beach and THIS is what I chose to do with my time?
8.) I want to comment on people's sites but am afraid to.
9.) FIVE minutes left (was there some sort of freaking time warp?)
10.) If I don't go now, you'll never hear from me again.

The family is running off to a wedding in another state so I won't be around (unless I find a library). The stalkers may have my house, I just don't care anymore.

2 MINUTES! AGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

Just checked on the post and you know what they did? They removed certain words! Can you see them: whore, porn, (and you're not going to believe this one) girl.

I'll check back before we hit the road!

Would this be totally wrong of me?

Sometimes when random people ask me when I’m due, the evil side of me is tempted to say, “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Even my doctor was like, ‘Listen, I can hear a heartbeat’ or, ‘See your baby waving at you on the screen!’ I mean, I’m just big boned and have some gas, gah!”

OMG OMG OMG OMG!

Just saw two of the trailers for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and almost wet myself with joy. Who’s gonna watch Lily so we can go see it? Any takers? Seriously people… I must see this movie on the big screen. ‘Nuff said.

“Budder?” Dog bites and swallowing cars.

Lily has a new word and my GODDESS do we hear it often. She’s discovered butter and thinks it’s the best thing ever. I think she’d eat if off a knife if we allowed her. She wanders around the house playing with toys and randomly shouting “Budder?” She’ll repeat this request until someone shows up with something slathered with butter. Cream cheese is also “budder,” in case you didn’t know. And she’s starting to bust out with the two word sentences now. Guess what they most commonly are? Guess! OK fine: “More budder!” or “Budder, please!” Are you starting to get how important butter has become to her life? Luckily for us, she's a pretty skinny toddler so we just go with it. She can use all the fat she can get.

In other news, Lily has received her first dog bite. We went to a friend’s house last night and she discovered one of the squeaky dog toys. She thought it was a blast to make it squeak over and over and over and over… The dog just got a little too riled up and when she failed to throw it he jumped up and nipped her in the back. She was shocked at such behavior, as was the dog owners who immediately let him know he was a bad dog and locked him in a bedroom upstairs. Lily had nothing more than a small scratch (which our hostess dutifully cleaned with a bit of hydrogen peroxide) and a slightly wounded bit of pride. I was incredibly calm about the whole thing (despite my recent hormonal attacks) and spent more time soothing our hosts as Lily got over it after a hug and quick cry. She actually missed the dog once he was banished, so she seems not to be scarred for life.

Final thought for the day (or post, really… who knows what I’ll come up with later in the day): yesterday I ate a lemon bar and inside of ten minutes it felt like the baby was doing a jig. At one point it felt like s/he was running a little matchbox car around in there and I thought, for just a moment, I could see the imprint of little wheels zooming across the backside of my belly button. I have no idea how the bean got a car in there but am hoping that it was just something I swallowed while in the midst of one of my pregnant lady feeding frenzies. At least the kid will have something to do.

This face makes it all worth it.

A little perspective and wing hair to boot!

Lily slept in until a little past 9am this morning (8pm by her internal clock I suppose, but dammit, I’ll take what I can get). I had planned to go to bed early last night thinking she’d have me up with the sun again, but with the time change didn’t really get to bed until about midnight. I woke on my own before her, went upstairs and fed the dog, checked email, relaxed a little and just enjoyed the quiet. It was a little overcast this morning but already getting hot so I opened up the windows and doors and enjoyed the breeze flowing through our nifty little house. In essence, I got some perspective after some deeply needed rest. I may be human again.

Oh, and my husband arrived just as I need to leave for work and refused to tell me where the camera was when I started giggling at his hair. It looked so silly I thought maybe one of the drunken revilers had attacked him in his sleep, giving him wings. Seriously, WINGS people. His hair was doing this amazing, swooping, THING. I’m so sorry he refused to tell me where the camera was hiding; it would have been so satisfying to post that here. He’s obviously a very bright man.

Lily was thrilled to have him home. Just before he was to return I took her into her bedroom to get her dressed. She resisted my plan until I pointed out that if she put some clothes and shoes on we could go wait for Daddy in the front yard. She raced to the window, pointed outwards and said “Daddy!” about a bzillion times. Seriously, I counted. The timing gods were with us as I got her into clothes, walked her through the house, opened the front door and LOW AND BEHOLD there was Daddy pulling up in the truck. She looked up and gasped like I was a magician and then started giggling like a… well, like a little girl. She probably peed herself with joy. That child loves her dad.

And so I am in a better mood (didn’t I say that would happen?) and can’t wait to see my man after I’m done with work. If I’m very lucky he may still have the wing hair AND will have left out the camera.

Seriously, all I do is complain these days... run while you still can!

Am having a total crisis of faith. Mark is away this weekend and am feeling so low and tired and pregnant. I can barely keep up with L, how am I going to do this with two? My temper is way too short, I keep falling asleep only to awake to some "crisis" Lily is melting down over (like, the dog moved two inches to the left... that level of crisis). I am emotional and feel crappy and I'm only at week 32, so I have two more months of this. I keep bursting into tears (over things like the dog moving two inches to the left... see!). I just plopped my baby in her crib and walked out despite her cries because I just couldn't take another minute of... ANYTHING. And now I'm bawling again.

Is this just pregnancy while mothering a toddler or is there something WRONG with me?

Wait, don't answer that. No matter what you say, I'll just start crying again.

And you know what? Give me 24 hours and I'm going to feel completely different. HORMONES CAN BE EVIL!

The awful awfulness.

I went to swim class with Lily. It was hell.

I don’t even know that I have the energy to share all of this with you. I met my mom and step dad there around the time her lesson was supposed to start. We got Lil into the required TWO swim diapers and my mom took her over to the pool. Little bit of crying, but she got over it when splashing started up and I put my feet (and, it turns out, a large portion of my skirt) into the water as demanded. We played for a bit and then I went over and introduced myself to the instructor John Paul (seriously, the guys name is John Paul). He told my mom to put Lily in her lap to show her that this wasn’t play time, but lesson time and she needed to get used to paying attention to what we wanted her to do. OK. I can dig that. I had no hope of going in as nothing I owned even resembled a bathing suit that would fit on my ever expanding, amazing prego body. So, my mom gets her in and the screaming/crying winds up. I foolishly think, “Hey, maybe if I go over by the edge, she’ll chill out a bit.” Wow that was stupid. The second I came into range she threw herself into a whole series of contortions, doing whatever she could to get away from her Grandma and into my arms. John Paul showed up to scold me and before he could, I pointed out that I clearly was not helping the situation and would go sit with my step-dad like a good little mommy. The screaming really took off, but now with repeated screams of “MY!” (if you haven’t read the toddler dictionary below, that’s her word for me). My step-dad chose this moment to make a joke. “Next stop, Auschwitz.” OK, that is darn funny, but here’s what happened. I was sitting there doing my best to contain my hormonal crazy mommy instinct. I had almost successfully put up the wall when he made me laugh. Instead of laughing like a normal person responding to humor, I started this odd little giggle that I realized was about to dissolve into sobs. I guess you open up one emotional path and the rest think it’s time to play catch. I didn’t want Lily to see me cry: 1)because I didn’t want her to freak out more thinking that something really was wrong or 2.) because I didn’t want her to think, “HA! It’s working, look at her melt down!” So I booked it out the front door bringing my cell phone with me. I immediately burst into tears and called Mark while he was on his way to the bachelor camping party thing. I told him I wanted nothing more than to fling myself into the pool, snatch my baby away from my mom and run off to a very DRY part of the world where, with frequent sponge baths she’d never have to see water again. He talked me down some, but told me it was up to me to pull her from the class. I could still hear her screaming, but it was winding down. I called my cousin Tiff (not home) and then my girlfriend Vikki. She kept me talking and distracted while I alternately sobbed and rambled. By this point I couldn’t hear her fussing at all anymore. My step-dad finally came and got me, announcing “It’s all over now, you can come back.” I dashed back in to find her getting changed by my mom and knelt next to her kissing her head over and over and stroking her face and trying not to sob anymore.

Mom and I talked and she assured me that when I went away, Lily actually had moments where she seemed to be enjoying herself… or at least forgot for a moment she was supposed to be pissed off. We decided that it was OK to keep going to the classes as long as I didn’t go until she enjoyed it. I also encouraged her to take Lily into their hot tub as often as she wanted. It took a lot of talking to get to this point and a lot of energy I just don’t have today. I am exhausted and she fought me about going to bed and I am way to tired to be writing all this down, but dammit, you all have become a very cheap form of therapy for me and I needed to get this OFF of me. Some day, my posts will be interesting again and maybe even funny. For now, you all get to read about my emotional crap! Whaa who!

Off with my head! I mean, off to my bed! What time is it?

Would you like a little cheese with that WHINE?

Lily didn’t sleep well last night and Mark ended up sleeping with her. She was up at 5:30 in the freaking morning and spent the morning whining. Mark was a little grumpy as well from not getting much sleep and trying to get all his stuff together for this weekends camping trip. He’s off getting his teeth cleaned now and then will rush back to leave. I was supposed to be taking Lily with me to a talk on Homeopathy, but due to the lack of sleep she crashed hard right as I was getting ready to leave. Then the damn dog came racing into the house covered up to her pits in mud and runs across the idiotic white carpet someone was stupid enough to install. Lily has another swim class today and I don’t have anything even resembling a bathing suit so I can’t go in with her without being the scandalous naked pregnant chick. Mark is taking the camera with him so no swim photos. I’m tired and cranky and have to go trap and hose down the freaking dog. And as much as I love my beautiful daughter I am not looking forward to a whole weekend of caring for her solo when I feel this tired and HUGE. I know, I’m not that huge, but I’m feeling like a HUGE pregnant lady this week.

And I have to work on Sunday. And despite the fact I have reminded Mark twice, I am paranoid he will fail to set the clock forward and show up here late, making me late to work. I mean, come on, it’s a freaking bachelor party camping trip; he’s gonna be a drunk bastard all weekend with a bunch of other drunk bastards. He deserves the opportunity to get stupid for a while, I’m just being a big ol’ freak.

WAHHHHH!

OK, tantrum done. How’s everyone else doing?