Positive/Negative

Positives about your baby girl having hair:
Lily didn’t have any hair until she was about a year old. No matter what we put her in we’d get comments on our beautiful baby boy. She could be in a pink tutu and without hair she was just a cross dressing boy in strangers eyes. Since Anya has some hair, we’ve only got a boy comment once. And that was while she was wearing a blue outfit that said “boy” all over it (literally… it was just in really small cursive so I hadn’t realized it until it was too late).

Negatives about your baby girl having hair:
I was changing Anya's diaper when she started screaming in pain and I'm trying to figure out if I poked her or if she has a rash or what, when I look up at her face and realize she has grabbed a clump of hair and is yanking on it with all her might. I had to pry her little fingers off (and she wasn't letting go easy... little masochist) and the whole time she is hollering and looking at me like, "WHY? WHY WOULD YOU HURT THE BABY?"

Positive:
I laughed at her. Long and hard.

Negative:
Bad mommy.

Positive:
Then I emailed Coffeegirl so she could laugh at my infant AND am blogging it so I can remember to make fun of her some more when she’s all grown up.

Negative:
Such a bad mommy!

YAY!

Anya is one month old today. YAY!

We celebrated by going to lunch with a very pregnant friend (Hi Kim!) and after enjoying a bit of breastmilk at the table (Anya, I had the French Toast… ummmm, French Toast) she decided the cute flowery outfit I had dressed her in had to go, so she pooped all over it. YAY! Teach me to put her in cutesy stuff. I have a theory about that, by the way. I made an effort to only occasionally dress Lil in girly stuff and now it’s all she wants to wear. I’m hoping that if I deliberately dress Anya in girly stuff she’ll turn into the ultimate tomboy and resent frills with a passion… just like a girl ought to! YAY!

And now, for your viewing pleasure, I present to you a random collection of items Lily collected and placed artfully on the couch. Click on the photo for a detailed analysis. YAY!

The nutter-fink and the snotty one

Mark is out of town again and so guess what I did to my children? MANIPULATED THEM, THAT’S WHAT! I figured out that if I lay Anya down in the cradle and pull the cover up over her head, she’ll sleep for hours! And yes, she can breathe, here, see:


This is wildly convenient when Lily is dragging me to the kitchen for the next course of her all day snack-o-rama every two minutes (you think I’m exaggerating? I can assure you I am not). Or when she needs to show me she peed in the potty, which is a big deal and does require a bunch of jumping up and down, clapping and yay-ing. Also when she wants undivided attention because she mistakenly believes she’s the only child in this house. I swear, the hour or so today when Anya was actually awake and nursing was when Lily HAD to have my attention. Little nutter. I can’t really attribute all the sleeping to the blanket-over-the-head trick. The poor little boo is still fighting that cold. She’ll be all happy and fine and then start snorting like a piggy, followed by a random projection of snot from her poor little nose. At least it’s clear snot now; it was all sorts of color there for a while. PAR-TAY at her face, let me tell you!

And how did I manipulate my eldest, you might be asking? I told her it was bedtime... about 45 minutes before it was bedtime. Hey, until she can read a clock, this kind of thing is fair game! Especially when she’s driving me up the freaking wall! I’ve learned that I kind of hit my limit around six pm and I can hold out on my own until seven, but God Save the Queen if I can make it to eight without a little back-up. Apparently I’m only good at this parenting gig for a limited number of hours and start to loose my shine, baby. I’m willing to accept this bit of me but I swear, if Mark ever leaves me I’m totally screwed. Heck, if he takes a five day gig I fear for my sanity.

She did manage to get me back by picking up a little habit called LIEING! Seriously, I heard her whining in there and calling for me, so I went to check in on her.

“Diaper?” she asked.
“Do you need a new diaper?”
“Diaper.” She nodded.
“Did you poop?” I asked, thinking no way would she have soaked a diaper after only ten minutes.
“Poop!” She confirmed.

Yeah, there was no poop in there. Heck, there was no pee in there! Little fink.

Ah, but I love my little fink. And the other one; the snotty one. Love ‘em both.

All the cool kids are doing it:


Cheesy grins:

Community

After my parents divorced when I was around nine my mom asked my brother and I if we wanted to stay in our house at the beach or move somewhere less expensive and be able to have more stuff. Or at least, that’s how we perceived the question. In any event, we had gone through such a traumatic change in our young lives we just could not fathom giving up our home as well. So my mom bought a sofa bed, moved into our family room and rented out the master upstairs.

J & R were our first tenets and the ones who stayed the longest. I spent those teenage years of angst, confusion and rebellion with this couple and they helped shape who I am. They managed to make doing the dishes fun, helped me see my mother as a person, and taught me what it is to mourn. Their first child, born while they lived in our home, suffered from Cytomegalovirus (CMV). CMV is a virus that most of us will have in our lives and won’t ever know that we’re infected as its effects are mild to the average adult. But, if a mother gets her first exposure to this virus while pregnant, “80% to 90% will have complications within the first few years of life that may include hearing loss, vision impairment, and varying degrees of mental retardation.” Little J was born with purple dots all over his skin, the first sign of trouble. He was rushed to the hospital and there they discovered what had happened. They were devastated. They didn’t know what to do. For a lot of reasons that I can assure you are very valid, they decided to seek out an open adoption scenario. They found a woman in Northern California who ran a school for disabled children, had already adopted a couple and was thrilled with the idea of them remaining an active part in his life. I remember the day they drove away; I carried Little J out to the car in his seat, set him in and said good bye. I remember feeling like the world was crashing apart and being carried away in a little squalling infant to a home I’d never know. To this day that memory makes me cry. I can’t imagine what it did to J & R.

I do know what it did to me the first time I saw that little pink line indicating I was pregnant with Lily. I knew that R’s exposure to CMV meant I had likely already come into contact with the virus and it wouldn’t harm my child. But the thousands of other “what if’s” crashed in and all I could picture for a moment was this beautiful picture J took or R holding their son, her face trying to smile but her heart clearly shattered all around them, her eyes showing the complete and utter suffering that is a mother loosing a son.

The good news is that this child, diagnosed as one who would likely never talk, walk, hear or see is now an active, bright, intelligent teen that only suffers a hearing loss. That’s it: he’s deaf. Oh, and he plays the violin beautifully. Not "beautifully for a deaf kid," beautifully. Period. He’s doing so well in large part to the resources his adoptive mother provided and for that we are all eternally grateful.

But back to my point. Community. I was blessed to be raised in community and for that I am eternally grateful. I want that for my children. I want to live on a big piece of land with many families; families that I know and love just a stones throws away. I want to wake up in the morning and share breakfast with Coffeegirl and her silly boys. I want to pick tomatoes with Daphne and her growing family. I want to hang diapers on the line with Almost Fey and learn to knit with my cousin and her boys. I want to go to the zoo with KB and her crazy boys. I want to chase Chickenflicken and her three around a lake. There are so many people that we meet in life or even online that create who we are and the community we build for our families. I want that to somehow become alive. Right here. Right now.

So… who wants to move in?

The sling of all slings

Coffeegirl and Daphne_Blue got together and sent me an amazing baby gift. OK, technically they sent Anya an amazing gift as it was addressed to her, but since she doesn’t blog (yet), I’m the one who gets to tell you all about it, as promised.

Many of you know that Daph has her own little shop making pouch slings called Planet Zebes. Coffeegirl found some beautiful fabric and Daphne put it to use by making me one of these beauty’s as well as a diaper pad and zippered wet bag. They will make you weep over their beauty. Don’t believe me? Just you scroll down, sista.

Sling in use with Anya:


Zippered Wetbag:


Diaper Pad:


Detail of the fabric:


Not only are these things freaking gorgeous, but they’re useful too. Just yesterday I was able to nurse Anya (4-weeks-old tomorrow!) while still having two hands available to get Lily into bed for her nap. I felt like a super mom! I’ve never had such beauty and functionality in my life, EVAR. Thanks, ladies. I love you.

Click on any of the photos to see some more shots, including Lily in the sling and Mark using it as well!

Might as well get rid of the mirrors... we don't USE them anyway!

I went to lunch with friends today after taking a trip to the Chiropractors and spending an hour at the park with my girls. Lots of people saw me before I went to lunch, some of them were people I consider friends. None of them noticed or at least told me. Noticed what? you may ask. So I’m standing there when I realize there is something odd against the edge of my shirt and look down to see what I think is a sticker. Not an uncommon thing to have a sticker stuck to me… Lily loves “kickers” and sticks them to anything she can. The dog often is found wandering around with a confused look on her face, stickers tucked into her collar or adorning her sweet fuzzy head. But this has nothing to do with the dog. Upon closer examination, however, I realized this supposed sticker was really the tag for my shirt. My shirt that I was wearing in-side-out. ALL DAY.

Did you know I’m a mom?

If you didn’t already know this, you do now. Only moms and crazy scientist wander around all day in clothing that is in-side-out or backwards. Most other people stop and LOOK at themselves before leaving the house. I might have looked at myself in a mirror if only my morning hadn’t been so chaotic. We were running late for the chiropractors when, as I was hustling Lily out the door, she hunkered down, grinned and said, “I poop!”
“Do you have poop in your pants, kido?”
“No.” And she smiles sweetly as though that stink must be coming from somewhere else. Then she made me wrestle her ass to the ground to change the foul thing. I finally got everyone clean and in the car and was just about to drive away when Anya started hollering like the devil was smacking her ass and calling her Georgia. I tried the power of the binky on her, a little voodoo and singing louder than her, but she wasn’t having any of it. Her poor little face was turning even redder than her normal ruddy complexion and she sounded like her world was ending. So I got out of the car, came around to the back, whipped out a boob and without extracting her from the car seat, popped it in her mouth. This is one of the advantages to having huge knockers. That and being able to kill at 30 paces.

SO IS IT ANY WONDER THAT MY CLOTHES WERE ON WRONG?

At least I burst into laughter (and not tears) at the restaurant when I figured it out and shared with the group. We all had a good chuckle before I skipped off to the bathroom to right myself. And despite what you may think, I’m feeling fine about my day. I’m getting stuff done and both the girls are sleeping right now, so I’m getting to blog. Life is good folks, and damn funny when you let it!

Stay tuned for more “One Happy Family” hilarity, right after this word from our sponsor.

P.S. OK, so I still haven’t gotten photos together for the thing to which I alluded yesterday. You shall all have to suffer a bit longer as I refuse to give you the half story. This thing is freaking beautiful and must have photos accompanying. Just be patient… it’s a virtue and all that.

At the Car Wash

Lily just went through her first car wash while out running an errand with Mark. Here’s the story of it as she told me:

A wash! A wash!
Car [pointing out towards the parking lot and dragging me out to see the freshly washed car] car.
Vooo [while waving hands in front of herself, mimicking the brushes] Vooo!
Daddy, I scared.
Daddy [pats her hands to her chest] no cry! No cry! Is OK.
Vooo [while waving hands some more] Vooo!
Is Ok. [Rubs car] A wash. Yea!

She seems to have enjoyed the experience after her initial fear. I’m sure I’ll be hearing about this event for days. So freaking cute.

Faux Disneyland

Since we’re planning a birthday shindig for Lily over the Fourth of July weekend, we didn’t do much for the big event yesterday. Anya has a pretty icky cold complete with lovely colored snot coming out of her face, so we tried to take it easy. Went to lunch with a friend after a stop at the Chiropractors and then came home to chill for a bit. When Mark got home we made a trip out to the grocery store as we were out of a few key items and I needed a few things for Lily’s cake (because I felt as though I’d be a bad mama if I didn’t make her a cake on her actual birthday). First we ran by Target where we picked her up a hairbrush as she’s been consistently stealing ours to obsessively brush her hair. Now that she actually has some hair, we figured a brush would be a good investment and it made her deliriously happy. We also picked her up a few films: Mary Poppins, Aladdin and Mulan.

Then on to the store. Now we don’t shop at conventional grocery stores that often. We’re kinda health food store people and since we have one not far from us that we adore, we don’t step foot into an Albertsons or the like very often. But, some of the things we needed were more conventional items and since the Albertson is closer and we were rapidly approaching bedtime, we went for it. Turns out we could have told Lily we were bringing her to an amusement park for her birthday and she would have swallowed it, hook, line and sinker that THIS was Disneyland. Bright lights, music, lots of insane color and this fancy ride:



She loved this silly thing and “drove” us all over the store; barefoot, might I add. I don’t know what it was about this cart, but the second she got in, the shoes had to come off.

As for the cake…

I’m no perfect mom. That silly cake didn’t get into the oven until about an hour after the Birthday Girl went to bed. However, she very much enjoyed her cake today. I made cupcakes using ice cream cones as the cups and this thrilled her to no end; although she had no interest in eating the cone. Fine by me, kido; it’s your birthday (or, er… day after your birthday). Here’s her enjoying one of those bad boys:



Overall a splendid, low key day. OH, and I got an amazing gift, but I’ll have to blog about that tomorrow when I have some photos. You’ll just all have to hold your breath until then.

The A, B, C’s of My Favorite Things

Blessingway.

Today my beautiful daughter is two and I wanted to do something to remember who she is at this moment in her life. So I created an A, B, C Favorite’s meme and filled it in with “all about Lily” info. Aren’t I adorable? NO, LILY IS! GET IT RIGHT, PEOPLE!

Favorite Arts and Crafts: Finger painting… except for when the paint gets on her fingers. Then she’ll whine until someone cleans her off. She also enjoys gluing sticks and pasta to paper as well as the old standby of drawing.
Favorite Book: Green Eggs & Ham. She’ll turn the pages and say, “No goat, no boat, no no no.”
Favorite Color: Blue, unless we’re talking clothes, in which case, it’s got to be pink.
Favorite Drink: juice; any kind will do as long as it’s sweet. We water it down big time, but its juice none-the-less.
Favorite Way to Eat Eggs: Lily is a scrambled girl but will steal my over-mediums any day.
Favorite Food: yogurt, cheese (this from the kid who made me give up dairy while I was nursing her because of an intolerance), eggs, cookies (what we call graham crackers), rice, burritos, fish tacos, beans, carrots, frozen peas and corn, ice cubes, granola with rice milk.
Favorite Game: Earthquake: she has a little tunnel thing and she’ll climb inside and roll around saying, “whoa! Whoa!” while you shake it and say, “oh no! Oh no!”
Favorite Holiday: She was enchanted with Christmas at Grandma’s last year.
Favorite Illegal Activity: Turns out that she likes Beer. ‘Nuff said.
Favorite Flavor of Jam: if it’s sweet, she’ll eat itm but she does seem to prefer Strawberry flavored stuff.
Favorite Thing to do in the Kitchen: She can entertain herself for an hour by playing in the sink. We just turn on a small stream and give her a cup or whatever and she can make the biggest happiest mess you can imagine. AND when she’s done, she’ll even turn off the water, thank you very much.
Favorite Fashion Look: Lily is a fan of dressy dresses, layered atop overalls. In fact, her chosen look of the moment is a nice blue swim top with a pair of my pretty Asian inspired slippers… and nothing else.
Favorite Movies: Chicken Run, Brother Bear, Finding Nemo, A Bug’s Life, Jungle Book.
Favorite Number: So far she can count to two and it is my theory that “two” is such a delightful number she just sees no need to continue.
Favorite Object of Affection: her baby doll, creatively named “Baby” an old fashioned Kewpie Doll that was a gift from my grandmother. Runner up: Piggy the Pig, Buddy the Elephant or Blue the Blanket.
Favorite Part of the Body: She is endlessly fascinated by her belly button.
Favorite Quiet Activity: Snuggling with Daddy on the couch while she sucks her thumb and twiddles her ear.
Favorite Reason to go to the Park: “I swing!”
Favorite Song: the one that goes, “la la la, yay! [Claps hands] Me me me, yay! [Claps hands] Ra ra ra, yay! [Claps hands].” Also a big fan of the Itsy Bitsy Spider.
Favorite Time of Day: Lil’s at her best between nap and bedtime. She’s well rested, in good spirits, cuddly and having a blast playing with everything she can get her hands on. Even better if a bath or dip in the kiddy pool is involved.
Favorite Utensil: She’s always loved her fork; after all, in addition to their traditional use, forks are excellent tools for grooming a 60 pound lab. But she still pronounces knife “nice,” so she may be trying to tell me something.
Favorite Vehicle: any type of bus. She’ll see one as we drive along and with a huge grin will say, “a bus! A bus! A bus!” over and over again. As we tried to exit a driveway, a bus pulled over to a stop, blocking our way out. Her response? “A bus, yay!”
Favorite Word: “Myself!” “Yay!” is also heard a lot in our house. So is: baby, jump!, Daddy?, no, Ma-Moe (Nemo), fish, chicken, and (more than you would think) please.
Favorite Xtreme sport: ridding a cart down the driveway… yep, there’s a story here. I’ll tell it some time.
Favorite Yoga Position: Downward Dog
Favorite Zoo Animal: Flamingos, Elephants, Monkeys and Giraffes.

Happy Birthday, Little Girl. Your daddy and I love you more than you could ever imagine.

Did you know...

Did you know that the average toddler makes approximately 300 trips to the refrigerator every day?
Did you know that a newborn sleeps on average 16-20 hours a day, but all of that awake time must occur when your other child needs the full extent of your attention?
Did you know that despite having a closet FULL of clothing, the average toddler must wear the same dress day in and day out and will shriek in pain if it is dirty or otherwise unavailable?
Did you know that even if there are five other blankets on the bed, said toddler cannot go to sleep without the one that is missing?
Did you know that newborn acne is totally normal but still freakishly worrisome to have to look at and think, “nothing to see here.”
Did you know that a dog that needs to pee will scratch at the door in desperation but then won’t actually go out when you open the damn door?
Did you know that if said dog does go out, she will demand re-entry the second you have successfully latched on the newborn and got everything settled?
Did you know that newborns delight in latching on, getting the milk flowing and then popping off to fall asleep while your milk squirts all over the place like a freaking fountain?
Did you know that a toddler can master the art of getting onto the potty, wiping with toilet paper, getting off the potty and flushing without ever actually peeing or pooping in the toilet?
Did you know that within 30 minutes of the house cleaning becoming complete, the average toddler can make it look as though you haven’t cleaned in years?
Did you know we (which is mostly me) can eat a dozen home made cookies in two days?

What have your children taught you today?

edited to add:
Right after I posted this my toddler taught me something else…
Did you know that the warmth and weight of your two-year-old in your lap as she twiddles your ear and sucks her thumb is the perfect counter to a stressful day?
Did you know that the scent of said two-year-olds head, her curls moist from the heat of the day, is better than any perfume you could ever buy?
Did you know that a toddler’s infinite curiosity can be annoying but can also provide endless hours of entertainment?
Did you know that out of 61 women in my online due date club, three lost their babies (one at 37 weeks, one at 42 weeks and one when he was only six days old)?
Did you know that I am one of the luckiest people in the world and if you want to know why, I’d only need to give you two reasons?

It’s been one of those days

Mark's been working way too hard lately, which needs to happen as he doesn’t have much scheduled for July. But… a lot of these gigs are over night, so we don’t get to see each other and I’m kinda on my own. There is absolutely no down time and for me… that can be kinda rough. Add to that my mom’s vacation (therefore no dropping of Lil for a couple of hours) and I’m feeling a little frayed. It’s as though the girls can sense it and pounce when they smell weakness. The two of them were tag teaming me today, one throwing a tantrum just after the other finally settles down after a bizarre crying jag. Poor Anya got over heated during the two hours we managed to get out of the house today and was inconsolable in the car until I could get her home and stripped naked. Her little body was all red and she was sweaty and just pissed off. And Lily just kept needing things. Needing to the point of whining about every last thing and throwing herself down and rolling around, back and forth as though the denial of juice at that exact moment was killing her. I hate whining. It’s just annoying and really sets me on edge, which is probably why she uses it so often!

At least while we were out we met a really nice lady and had fun playing in the court yard of the library after story time. Some photos of my pretty girl, NOT whining.

Father’s Day 2005

I’ve made about five attempts at writing about Mark and his mad skilz at fathering. None of the words I have written come close to describing what kind of brilliant father he really is. So I instead created a photo album of awesome Daddy shots. Click the photo below to bring you there.

Score

Lily has a chore. She feeds the dog, all by “myself.” The following are the steps required for her to accomplish this task:

1. open up the cupboard
2. release the latch of the dog food bin
3. get Maya’s bowl
4. produce two scoops (plus one or two extra pieces, her own special touch I guess)
5. close the lid and latch it
6. close up the cupboard
7. give Maya her bowl and while pointing at it say, “OK.”



She’ll be two on Wednesday and we already have her trained in one domestic duty. I can see how this can only get better.

We’ve got a whole slew of new photos over at our Flickr account. The following is from her interpretive dance we’ll call, “Flight of the Parrot, who eventually decides that drawing on post-it’s is just more fun.”




Click on any of the photos for more Flickr fun.


.

Dude, did you feel that?

California has been a-rockin’ and a-rollin’ lately with a whole slew of earthquakes. I’ve lived here all my life and never have there been this many events all grouped together (well, if there was, I didn’t notice). It’s crazy, yo. Don’t believe me? Go check out the U.S. Geological Survey’s earthquake section of their website. It’ll rock your world… ‘cause I know it’s rocking mine.

Prayer Quilt

The ladies at my mom’s church made Anya a prayer quilt. It has some of the same fabric that's in Lily's!

For those of you who don’t know, a prayer quilt is made by the church ladies and then the whole congregation puts prayers into it, either by placing a hand on it while praying or tying a knot in the strings while praying for the new baby. While I’m no longer a church goer, I adore this tradition; it’s full of wonderful intent.

Something awful and ironic just happened

We were watching Chicken Run when I realized I haven’t had anything to eat yet this morning. So I made… er, eggs. Good source of protein gets me going, etc. I didn’t really think about the fact that I was going to be eating fried eggs while watching chickens fight for their life.

So one of the eggs had something wrong with it. I’m not going to say what, mostly because I don’t really know and don’t really want to know. I just know that when I put a bit of yoke in my mouth, it was just wrong. I lost my breakfast rather quickly while Lily watched me as I stood hunched over the sink and kept asking, “Is OK?” I doubt I’ll be eating fried eggs anytime soon.

In other news, my dog has become agoraphobic. She won’t go outside unless you physically push her out the door and then she’ll sit by there huddled pathetically. We think the coyotes are freaking her out. Last night as Mark left for his gig he noticed the coyotes on the little hill above our parking lot, hunting up some wabbits. They seemed completely unconcerned with his presence. Not a good thing to have happening with wild animals. They should fear humans; after all, we are evil. Just ask any children’s film maker, they will point it out to you in vivid detail. Chicken Run is an obvious example and hey, I have an awful and ironic story about that film. Have you heard it?

Now I just have to figure out how to make the rest of the day so exciting.

play it!

Lily is a big fan of music: the kind you play on the radio, with your hands, singing, all of it. She’s a dancing fool, the sweetest singer and her confidence inspires. She will WAIL on that harmonica with the greatest of confidence, making the most god-awful sound you have ever heard and then pull back, look at you with those big brown eyes and smile as though she has just created the most beautiful music the world has ever heard. She is a virtuoso, a prodigy, a phenomenon of astronomical proportions. She rocks my world.

And, look close, she’s getting freckles on her nose.

Why we really shouldn't spend so much time at home

Two weeks

Today, Anya is two weeks old. Guess it’s about time she gets a bath, eh? Seriously, I haven’t bathed this kid yet. There’s something about that first bath, as though you are washing away the womb experience and starting her new in this world. I never want to do it. I want my babies to be able to smell their birth as long as possible. OK, so that makes it sound like she stinks, but she doesn’t. She just smells… new. Once you plunge them into their first bath and wipe them down with soap, they just seem so ordinary. Water has always been a huge symbol of transformation to me. She was birthed in water (and that was a BIG transition, people) and maybe I’m just not ready for her to enter this next phase. Maybe I’m crazy, but that’s how I feel about it. If she wasn’t getting a huge build up of fuzz between her toes I’d say lets forget the whole thing and see if we could get away with another week or two!

Little Miss Magic

I caught Mark singing to Anya last night as I got ready for bed and ended up hiding around the corner so I wouldn’t interrupt. They were snuggled in bed and I peaked around to see Anya gazing up at him while he lay, propped up on one elbow gazing back at her, one of his big hands resting on her tiny chest. It just about broke my heart listening to that man sing to his new daughter and made me fall in love with him all over again.

Here’s what he was singing:

Little Miss Magic
Written by - Jimmy Buffett
From - Coconut Telegraph

She's constantly amazed by the blades of the fan on the ceiling
The clever little glances she gives me can't help but be appealing
She loves to ride into town with the top down
Feel that warm breeze on her gentle skin
She is my next of kin

I see a little more of me everyday
I catch a little more moustache turning gray
Your mother is the only other woman for me
Little Miss Magic, what you gonna be?

Sometimes I catch her dreamin' and wonder where that little mind meanders
Is she strollin' along the shore or cruisin' o'er the broad Savannah
I know someday she'll learn to make up her own rhymes
Someday she's gonna learn how to fly
Oh, that I won't deny

I catch a little more dialogue comin' my way
I see those big brown eyes just start to lookin' astray
Your mother's still the only other woman for me
Little Miss Magic, what you gonna be?

Yes, she loves to ride into town with the top down
Feel that warm breeze on her gentle skin
She is my next of kin

Constantly amazed by the blades of the fan on the ceiling
Those clever little looks she gives just can't help but be appealing
I know someday she'll learn to make up her own rhymes
One day she's gonna learn how to fly
That I won't deny

I see a little more of me everyday
I feel a little more moustache turning gray
Your mother's still the only other woman for me
Little Miss Magic, what you gonna be?
Little Miss Magic, what you gonna be?
Little Miss Magic, just can't wait to see

It's raining, It's pouring
Your old man is snoring

Well shut your mouth and call me Molly

I have no idea what that title means BUT I do know that today I am wearing my fat pants! Why am I so excited about wearing fat pants you might ask? Because I am only a week and a half post partum and I am wearing fat pants… which are decidedly NOT maternity pants. You see why this is a big day for me, Molly? Who the heck is Molly, anyway?

We had an appointment with the midwife yesterday and Anya is growing good. She was 8lbs, 2oz at birth; 7lbs, 10oz three days after and at 11-days-old (yesterday) she was 8lbs, 1 oz. So you see, breastmilk kicks serious ass. She’s still very red and has a little goopy eye stuff going on, but we can fix that right up with: YEP, you guessed it, breastmilk. I have a tee-shirt that says, “I make milk. What’s your super power?” and you know what I think? Breastmilk is better than Batman and Spiderman rolled into one. Better than the Green Flash, easy. Tons better than those silly Wonder Twins. I think Breastmilk is even better than Superman. SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

Did you know, in fact, that if Americans would just breastfeed their babies until they were six-months-old we’d save 3.6 BILLION dollars in health care annually? THREE POINT SIX BILLION. That’s a whole lot.

My goodness I’m yelling a lot in this post. Must be all the sugar.

Right now Anya is sleeping in the cradle next to me making all sorts of crazy noises and her eyes keep flickering open and lolling around. It’s kinda cute and creepy, all rolled into one. Thinking about standing back and squirting some breastmilk at her while whispering (‘cause I don’t want to wake her) “Get behind thee Satan!” But then she’d probably wake up covered in milk and want to nurse… which can get in the way of eating ice cream. Ah parenting, the sacrifices are always so hard.

The boobie bidness is my fault!

OK, so my midwife didn’t put it that way at all. She pointed out that usually when you see that particular problem happening it’s because the poor little newborn cannot hang on to the massive mama boobie without help. I should be supporting my immense knockers as she nurses or her itty bitty chin will give up and out my nip will slip. So she’s not messing with me or turning evil… she simply cannot stand up against the bodacious mama ta-tas.

Now how’s THAT for TMI.

Nursing woes and cherry pits

I gotta get me some help. I go see my midwife tomorrow, who is also a lactation consultant, and am hoping she’ll take one look at what’s going on and tap her magic wand to fix it. For the most part we’re doing ok; once I get this mighty sucker latched, all is well. But getting her latched… sheer torture. She’ll fool me by opening her mouth really wide (at my insistence, might I add) and drawing in, but will then spit the nipple almost all the way out and then viciously suck it back in… repeatedly. When I am at my breaking point and just about ready to throw something, she’ll settle down and nurse nice. Then she makes up for it with the sweet little milk-drunk face, sleepy giggles and heart breaking coos. Even her farts are cute.

But yeah, this business with the nipple: not so cute.

In other news, my toddler has discovered cherries. They had a big box of them at Costco for nothing and so we picked ‘em up. I had been splitting them for her and tasking out the pit, but Mark thought she ought to learn how to spit out the pit like the rest of us. So he gave her a whole one all the while telling her about the hard part inside she should spit out. She nodded her understanding as she solemnly worked her little mouth and then when it was clear she’d hit the pit, Mark held out his hand and told her to spit it out. Now, any of you who have seen my toddler eat know this: she loves food. She certainly doesn’t want to miss out on any of the experience. Can you guess what she did with the pit? A confused look down at Daddy’s hand followed by a big gulp; yep, she swallowed it. We’re taking bets over who will have the joy of seeing it in a diaper. Please, let it be me.

Episode II: Attack of the Drones

I have few irrational fears, but bees… bees turn me into a little girl. I remember being about eight-years-old and my brother and I were walking home from Church. We got into some fight and so he went to the other side of the street. I was walking along, pouting when a bee landed on the front of my dress. I froze solid and started to cry. My brother kept walking and I think I stood there for a good ten minutes, crying and shaking and hoping it would just fly away rather than savagely attack me with his thousands of busy bee friends. It eventually did and I lived to see another day.

My terror was enhanced when, while sitting on a friends back porch a bee landed in my hand and stung me. I jumped up and ran inside to her father, a French-Canadian named Leo who drove a funky VW truck/van and fixed things for a living. While I cried and thrust my hand in his face, stinger still throbbing poison into me, he grabbed me by the wrist, dragged me into the kitchen, picked up the biggest knife I have ever seen and flicked the stinger out into the sink… all while cursing in French… loudly.

My whole hand swelled up to twice its normal size as I am not only afraid of bees but also somewhat allergic to them.

Seeing “My Girl” didn’t help. Freaking kid gets killed by bees for being stupid enough to poke at a hive. Dumb ass. Still, it affirmed my belief that bees want to kill you and will happily do so if given the opportunity.

Last year in May a hive moved in. I took out a hit and had the buggers eliminated. So not hippie of me; ah well, you do what you can. This March a hive moved into one of our exterior walls and my husband said he’d take care of it. I believed him. Sure, he’s a man and therefore not as likely to do what he says he will do, but these are bees and he knows how very afraid of bees I am. His idea of doing something about it: he got up early one morning and squirted the hive with poison. They cleared out for the day and came right back. He did nothing for the next two months.

Yesterday, we noticed some enhanced activity. They were setting up a new hive, directly under my dining room. At first it was a scout or two; then a few more. I called in another hit and they said they’d be out in the morning. Mark went off for an afternoon gig after putting Lily to bed for her nap. We have a courtyard style house (kinda) and Lily's room is across from the main house. I laid down with Anya in the living room for a nap and awoke to the loudest buzz I have ever heard in my life. Out the window I saw 1000’s of bees, blocking the path to my daughter’s room. Lily was still asleep but the thought of having to walk through that to get to her sent me into a blind panic. I called Mark and started sobbing hysterically. I also informed him of how very pissed off I was that he let this go to this point. Around this time the bee people called back to give me an appointment time and caught me mid-panic. The lady was very nice, explaining to me what was going to happen, that they would settle as the light dropped, that they would not get me, it was OK, etc. I donned hooded sweater and shoes and, as the hive settled down, ran across the bridge (still sobbing) to get my daughter from her room.

She started crying when she saw that I was freaking out and kept asking, “Is ok? Is ok?” I tucked her under my arm and ran her back into the main house, clutching her to me on the couch and sobbing some more. I got her calmed down and set up with some finger paints (while I sobbed some more) then went about doing some laundry (still sobbing) and getting some food together (while sobbing). I cried for a good hour. YOU SEE HOW FREAKING TERRIFIED I AM OF BEES?

This morning the guy came out and for almost $400 he killed the suckers. Mark tried to make it up to me by bringing home incredibly good ice cream last night, but I am disappointed and still just a little pissed off. I get that boys don’t like to do things they don’t like to do and all, but come on. Do I have to become a nagging wife? I really don’t want to be that, but I also want him to do what he says he will do. I know life gets in the way, I know stuff comes up, but really. Honestly.

And now he’s upset with me because I’m upset with him. I just can’t win.

She’s freaking me out

Lily was a pretty easy infant. She had a bout with colic that afforded us hours of crying each night, but that didn’t last too long. She always nursed well, slept pretty well, enjoyed being in the car, always even tempered… a dream really. So, it was only natural that we’d assume our second child would act as the spawn of Satan.

You can imagine my shock at the amount of sleep I’ve managed to get this first week. This kid sleeps in blocks of like FOUR hours. YES, IN A ROW! And you know what I can do with her? I can set her down for a moment, walk away and pee in silence! No screaming as though she is being poked with hot metal sticks. She just lays there and looks around and coos happily at the pretty lights. She’s just so damn agreeable… not at all like I assumed the spawn of Satan would be. It’s quite possible that she’s setting us up big. But for now, I’m going to have to enjoy this brilliantly easy kid.

Oh, and the necrotic flesh fell off the other day; she now has a beautiful, perfect belly button.

The terror and power of the shaman bunny

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Mark’s not working today and so he got up early with Lily and let Anya and me sleep in. I awoke to a sound like a pack of coyotes killing a dog. Since we have a pack of coyotes in our canyon who have been keeping an eye on our dog, I was reasonably alarmed. I slowly set Anya down on the bed and waited. Before long, I heard Mark’s footfalls on the stairs and he busted into our bedroom.
“I need you to get up.” He told me.
“Maya?” I asked.
“Yep. I think she broke her leg.”
“Coyotes?”
“Oh, no. She fell off the porch trying to chase a bunny.”
…
…
…
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, that’s what all that noise was about.”
“I thought the coyotes got her!”
“No. Just a, errr… bunny.”

Apparently the porch was very wet this morning with dew and Maya noticed a bunny across the driveway. They faced off, staring each other down in the stillness of the morning air. Maya’s muscles bundled and, fully committed to the attack she sprang from the porch with deadly intent. At that moment, the shaman bunny reared up on hind legs, reached into the satchel tied around his little bunny waist, threw a paw full of potent powder while hollering out the most deadly bunny spell he knew*. Maya crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain and even pooped herself, she was in such agony. That’s one powerful shaman bunny, if you ask me.

Mark had to carry her back into the house and then came to get me. We ran back upstairs together (careful not to trip on the wet stairs, might I add) and when we got to her, she was lying in a pathetic heap near the couch. Mark started working the leg to see how bad it was and luckily, it’s just a strain. She’s up and around on it now, although favoring it heavily.

The shaman bunny is nowhere to been seen.


*OK, so Mark didn’t actually see the bunny do this bit, but I’m convinced it happened.


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Cloth Diapers and a chocolate feeding frenzy

Switched Anya over to cloth diapers now that she is meconium free. It’s pretty sad how excited I can get over what my child craps in. Her first non-sposie dipe was a Kissaluv size 0. So soft and sweet and fluffy fluff for her butt! Made me happy. Here, look!


I slapped a fuzzy "Toot Sweet" wool cover on it. SEE:


Her second dipe was a Righteous Baby, which are the cutest freaking diapers you have ever seen. Also a little pricy… I own like, two. BUT they are DAMN cute. Just look, ‘cause I know you wanna:


Is that enough cute baby butt to drive you insane for one day? You even get a look at some nice necrotic flesh... ummm, dried up umbilical cord. It's so ready to fall off.

And yes, I know I’m nuts, so you don’t have to tell me.

Speaking of nuts, in snack related news take a lookie here:


This little snack mix includes raisins, peanuts, dried pineapple, peanut butter chips, m&m’s and reeses pieces. Although what you see here in the genre of brightly colored bits: about 95% reeses pieces. Why did they skimp on the m&m’s you might ask? Oh, they did not. I ATE THEM. I sat here and picked out all the chocolate I could find. I see that I let a few escape just looking at the photo. Hmm… clearly I have work to do.

NOTHING TO SEE HERE. Must get back to, um... something terribly important. Carry on.

How to annoy me

Be angry at your spouse.
Yell at me instead.
Yell at a woman who is only five days post partum while she rocks her newborn and tries to corral her pants-less two-year-old.
Refer to the fact that the two-year-old is pants-less as a “problem” when I am already doing what I can to remedy the situation.
Don’t take what little advice I have the energy to give you.

And hey, she’s two; who cares if she isn’t wearing pants!

Baby Face

I’ve been spending all my time falling in love and since I have a camera I’ve taken about a BILLION photographs of Anya. Who has time to write a blog when your hand is attached to a camera all the time? So, I leave you with this (click the photo for more baby face):



OH! And this quote from my Grandfather, spoken to my Grandmother as Anya started to root around for some milkies:

“Give that baby back to her mother, she don’t want them dried up old titties!”

Sisters