Don’t eat the cookies

When we went up to have lunch with my grandfather last month he had me go through the kitchen and take a few of Grandma’s things. I picked up some beautiful little tea towels she had hand stitched way back when they were first married, a couple of kitchen tools, some beautiful fruit they had canned and two packages of English Tea Cookies. There were packages and packages of English Tea Cookies, some in Tupperware, some in plastic bags, some just sitting there in their wrapping, looking all dejected and sad. He wanted me to take them all but not being a huge fan of English Tea Cookies I figured two would be good.

We got home, opened up the first package a few days later and I had a few. Really not worth the calories if you ask me. Mark pointed out that, like so many things made by the Brits, these were bland and unfulfilling. Mark being mostly British, we felt comfortable with this little slam on those pasty white people. OH jeeze, I just did it again. You all are gonna think I’m a big ol’ xenophobe. I’m not; I just enjoy making fun of people who are different from me. Irate British folk may send your hate mail here.

ANYWAY, back to the point. So I stopped eating the cookies and Mark continued to munch his way through the bag with the aid of a tall glass of rice milk. Sometime towards the end of the bag we found a coupon for a discount on more bad cookies. Let me just say that had we only paid attention we would have realized that we were given fair warning in these two little items on the package:



But no. We didn’t do the simple math. Instead, I found myself staring at this:



That’s right, folks. The expiration date on the coupon does indeed say 12/31/95. Mark consumed most of a package of cookies that had been sitting in my grandmother’s cupboard for AT LEAST TEN YEARS.




Back off, ladies. He’s all mine.

Four Months Old

Do you have any idea how long it’s taken me to write this? Not because I am stuck for ideas or don’t know how to organize my thoughts; if ONLY that were the problem. Instead, every time I sit down to write you wake up and demand immediate attention. Do you not want an update on your life at four months? Because I can accommodate that request, little girl; JUST YOU TRY IT!

Now you sleep. HAH! Obviously threats work very well with you. Marking THAT down in my little book.

What’s up with you, my dear little Anya? You were so easy when you slept all the time. Now you are becoming so much more aware and so interactive. It’s like I finally put the batteries in the nifty new toy. You have been my clingy monkey this month, not wanting to be put down and not always content to simply sit in my lap while I type or read or do whatever random thing I do while sitting. You want to be up, walking, looking at the world and catching everyone’s eye. You’ll stare at someone intently, your brow slightly furrowed and wait until they look at you. Once you have their eyes your face will erupt into a brilliant smile, your body wiggling in happiness that you made them look at you.

You’ve also started really getting into your hands. You stuff them into your mouth, move objects around violently, lay your palm against my chest and them quickly pull your fingers into a fist, scratching me in the process. Fine motor control is not yet your forte. “Hey, look at that toy!” you seem to say, “I can just delicately pick that up and deftly move it towards my… HEY, WHO HIT ME!” It’s funny. Well, it’s funny until that little lip comes out and you whimper in this sweet little high-pitched noise that makes my mommy bits go all kooky. Daddy doesn’t understand how physical it is, this being a mom stuff. He doesn’t get that when you cry it is physically painful for me. Nature, she is a bitch in this way.

The last week or two has been a bit blurry for me. You have a cold and your poor little nose is all snuffly. You’ll be nursing along, gulping quickly to avoid certain death and will pop off dramatically, gasping for air before diving in for more of that good stuff. Who needs a life in the theatre? I’ve got drama, right there at my breast. Sadly, this snuffly nose makes it a challenge to sleep at night and, when coupled with what I think is teething, you are wild in bed. Some day that will be a complement, but right now it’s something that makes me curse in the middle of the night. When I should be sleeping. Quietly. Without any profanity spewing from my perfect lips. I woke your Dad at 6:30 the other morning, handing him your wiggly little form and said, “GET OUT.” Listen carefully, because this is what you are looking for in a mate when you are older, much more stupid and fall so deeply in love with someone you want to see their eyes looking out at you from a tiny perfect face sporting your nose and a deeply brilliant mix of both of your skin tones: your daddy took you in his arms, got the hell out of the bedroom and let me sleep, shower and dress in utter and complete peace and quiet. This, my dear little person, is the actions of a very good person.

Whatever you may think by the time you read this, your dad is an amazing man. So much can change over the years, but that is one thing that I need you to know I believe right now. You’ll find over the years that I’m just a wee bit damaged by what happened with my parents. There is something so fragile about the love between partners and while I cannot ever imagine not being in love with your dad, I know that at the time I was born, my mom could never image not being in love with my dad. And the betrayal of falling out of love is so deep that it can leave a person angry, depressed, hurting in a way I hope you never have to know. It is my deepest wish that you will read this while your dad and I smooch and giggle in the background. But if not… if we have hurt each other and both of you girls in the process, just know this one thing: you were created by parents who were deeply in love with each other. Period. And if that doesn’t fill your reserves in the hard times, I just don’t know what will.

I love you. THAT will never change.
Mama

Lily Eye View

Lily has been taking photos with my old camera and she LOVES this new task. While we have a plethora of shots of the floor, some of the other shots are quite brilliant. She has a chance to be like Mama and capture the world as she sees it, at her level, at her angle, while spinning happily around in circles. She jumps up and down with glee every single time the flash goes off; she shouts out what she thinks was the subject of the shot; she catches the tip of Maya’s nose in a way I’d never consider. Quite frankly, it’s a joy to watch her and her own form of toddler photo journalism.

I’ve set up a photoset on Flickr so I can keep feeding her shots into one place. I want to watch her develop and what better way then to watch how her perspective of the world shifts. Check it out and come back often. I’ve stuck the link under her name on the sidebar but you can get there in a flash by clicking the photo below.

Books with Lily

Lily and I look at Richard Scarry's What Do People Do All Day? while Daddy works on the before-mentioned deck (click on the book to listen):

P.S. I’m not usually so directive when we look at books. I got nervous that she wouldn’t say anything and so got all crazy with the “what’s this?” and “what does the dog say?” prompting. Forgive my insanity.

Blitzkrieg deck

Back from a weekend at my moms while Mark and friends worked on putting a deck back onto our house. It’s been missing for a little over a year and the plan was to have it all laid out by Sunday with just the railings and stair platform to complete this week. We had a rough weekend at moms, with the girls acting like insane little freaks about sleep and no downtime for me. My mom was incredibly helpful, but she had a busy weekend of her own and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome by asking for too much help. I had forgotten how noisy that place is: the floors creek, the laundry room door whines, the door handles make rattling noises, the cabinets slam, the dishes attempt to jump out and clatter all over the place… it’s not so great when you are trying desperately to get kids to SLEEP. So yeah, tired. Meh.

When I got home I discovered what I feared would be the result of the weekend deck blitzkrieg: the deck was not nearly as done as it was supposed to be. Only about a third of the boards were laid and the step from the living room was ½ wood, ½ “look out for the abyss!” I magically refrained from sulking and just told Mark how wonderful he was for all he had done (he is, really). He's trying to get it done this week, but for now I get to be paranoid about Lily falling off the edge (no railing yet) and will have to hike out and around our house in order to reach my bedroom each night while carrying Anya since the stairs require a big leap and are not attached to anything. I am, hopefully, making huge spouse points today as I have scheduled a trip to the chiro followed by dinner with friends, one of whom happens to be a massage therapist and will give him a massage after dinner. The boy is hurting and I figure if I can make him feel good physically, he'll be more likely to finish the job in a timely manner. I say this as he lay sleeping on the floor of Lily's room while she strips herself naked in the crib and throws a wet diaper at him, then hollers for me to come take her to the toilet so she can pee. I just got her back down and told her if she couldn’t be still and quiet I'd have to come back in her room and take Daddy away. He snoozed through the whole thing.

I have a ton of silly photos to share but am just not up to it yet. I am scattered and tired and just ready to vegetate, but it aint gonna happen, girlfriend. Back later when I am a wee bit more coherent.

I think that's the Chinese character for "cute artistic girly pants"

Not a stalker, but I play one on TV!

I love the community we have all managed to develop through blogging and am constantly catching myself starting my sentences with, “My friend ______, who I know online…” I realized the other day how very much I want to be able to stop saying “who I know online” with some of these amazing women. However, not being infinitely wealthy and as the mother of two small children, visiting you all to become “real” friends isn’t such a possibility.

But every once in a while, the planets align and it falls into focus.

Christa (Daphne Blue) only lives an hour and a half away and so we met and fell in love and had a bunch of babies. Wait, that wasn’t me. We did meet and we did fall in a kind of love and we have had many a “girl… girl, no she didn’t!” kinda phone conversation as well as some rocking good visits (and she’s having a baby, it’s just not mine). And my world opened just a bit more.

Stella and I launched the Bitchen Kitchen and have chatted up the phone lines, giggling and saying impossibly brilliant things about the world, our husbands, our children, our choices. If only hurricanes would stop pummeling her region, I’d SO be on a plane to go say hello.

Then there’s Allison with her wit, her knitting genius, her adorable smile, and a genuine sense of caring. She’s one of those people you want to be friends with, even if she’s younger and hipper than you will ever be. She’s throwing a shin-dig at her casa next month and I started to really think about it. I’ve always wanted to go to Colorado. We have a little extra money right now, why not? Feeling like a creepy stalker chick, I asked her if I could come. AND SHE SAID YES. SO! Anya and I will be jumping on a plane and visiting the Blevins. Alas it’s only a weekend and alas I cannot afford to bring Lily, but I get to meet the girl behind the screen! I’m so excited right now, I’m afraid I just might hurt myself.

And so I watch for cheap flights, for a possible car rental, I think of the logistics of traveling with a baby. My community grows and I am alive with excitement, of traveling alone (kinda) and looking forward to greeting another blogging mama that will help me shorten my sentences.

Who will I get to stalk next?

Why I love my mother

Written in my mothers hand on the inside back cover of the book I am currently reading:

While I was reading this book:
Mom’s hospital room roommate Frances on August 10, 2005 said
“I was having one of those damn ‘ziety attacks
… after that woman in the bar called me a fucking bitch.
I just called the ‘curity guard and let him take care of her.”
Mom died the next morning, August 11, 2005. Somehow, it seemed preferable to spending another day with Frances.

My littlest little person

Mark says he always know when I’ve walked into a room if he’s holding Anya, even if he doesn't at first see or hear me. Her little body will go from relaxed and observant to jumpy and reaching. She’ll lean her whole body towards me, bouncing happily and grinning like a little mad woman. It’s not that she is unhappy in his arms; she’d just rather be in mine. “You’re her world, honey. And that’s how it should be” he says as he leans over, kissing me lightly and smiling at our baby girl; our littlest little person.

She is becoming so bright, so bubbly, so alive! When startled, she’ll look for my face and as long as I smile at her, her face will go from alarmed to a full body grin in a moment. Even her eyes smile at me. There isn’t much I can do but smile back, giving her one of those silly open mouthed grins that she’s so fond of, lifting her face to mine so we can bump foreheads, a slight giggle escaping from her soft face.

What I really want to know, however, is why my littlest little person wants to share her beautiful smile with me at five a.m.? Why is five a.m. the time to giggle and wiggle and love on her mama? Why must she shun my repeated attempts to get her quietly nursing, choosing instead to pop up and say, “ah ha!” and touch my face not so tenderly? Why little person? Why must you make Mama even more blurry than she already is? And if you’re going to do this, wake up Daddy too, because if Mama’s not happy why should Daddy get to be? You see what this does to me? You see what kind of person I become when forced to be bright and happy at five a.m.? A well rested mama wouldn’t wish evilness upon her mate for the sin of enjoying his rest.

Children are supposed to make you a better person. And I can unequivocally say that my children have forced me to become a much better person than I could ever have imagined I could be. But a very tired good person, I am. So very sleepy. And not smart enough to get off the computer and GO. TO. BED.

Lily's voice at 22 months

Someone asked for an audio post of Lily and I actually have done one, although my fuzzy brain was thinking it was way before 22 months. In any event, click the sweet little Lily face to hear her talking kitty smack.

PS: date on this one is April 13, 2005

Random things Lily learned today

*Cookies should be sampled at every stage of making, despite Mama’s cries of, “NO, ick, Salmonella! GAH!”
*Mama is insanely proud of her tiny container garden that has managed to live almost one whole week.
*It’s OK to sniff Mama’s rosemary but if you rip the basil apart, Mama is scary.
*Mama may just have a clue what she's talking about when she says, "I wouldn't eat that, jalapenos are spicy hot."
*Mama doesn’t like big hairy spiders. Especially when she discovers she has laid the baby down on a blanket next to a really freaky one… ½ an hour ago.
*Stomp is simultaneously scary and exhilarating. You cannot help but dance around like a freak when they get going.
*Butternut squash is dinner yet dessert! YAY!
*Tying your own shoes is damn near impossible.
*There is nothing you can do when you start peeing unexpectedly. Even if you’re standing on Daddy’s favorite chair, ready to jump off of it at him.
*Daddy is much nicer than Mama about peeing on favorite chairs.
*Roaring at the cat won’t make her run away.
*Unless you also flail your arms and scream, “Go ‘way, GO ‘WAY!”
*Jerking your hand around just as Mama goes to trim a fingernail is unadvisable. Everybody cries.
*Anya enjoys getting hugs, as long as she can still breathe.
*When Mama allows you to take a picture, get as close as possible.
*Mama is just slightly insane.
*And finally, Mama will get really annoyed if you don’t click over and look at her pictures of the tiny container garden. Say nice things and complement her prowess as a gardener. If you don’t, she’ll cry and throw dirt… totally acceptable if you’re a two-year-old. Not so pretty at 30.

Never Eat Shredded Wheat

For most of my childhood I was confused about direction. I just didn’t see where North was, no matter how hard I looked. I was constantly turned around, never knew which direction to go to find the car in a parking lot and was utterly flabbergasted when my brother would, without hesitation, point North when prompted. It didn’t concern me much, what eight-year-old really needs to know where North is? On a walk to the beach, I found myself standing at the edge of the jagged cliffs overlooking the sea, my face turned towards the setting sun and suddenly everything spun into place. To my right lay the drama and high society of La Jolla and to my left the drinking and mayhem of the beach scene and boardwalk. Behind me the entire country buzzed and hummed, steadily growing darker as we moved away from the sun. The compass slammed down on top of this picture, an arrow pointing towards money and for the first time I knew where I was in a way I never had before.

Living my whole life on the cusp of the Pacific, your compass cannot help but point West. For me, orientation isn’t North; rather it’s the cool salty waters of the powerful Pacific. I always know where I am now as long as you can point me in the direction of the ocean. This was a problem for me during my time at school in England. It was hard enough that the country was surrounded by ocean (and yes, they all are, but England is small) but the River Thames had the audacity of snaking through London, throwing me off every time I popped up from the Underground and tried to figure out which way to go. It didn’t matter how many times I’d close my eyes and picture myself on the cliff, I wasn’t going to get it.

But the West keeps pulling me in with the insistence of “home.” We talk of moving away from this town, but I am so in love with the dizzying rush of salty spray against my skin, the sun on my face, the moon rising at my back. I can’t imagine a world where the sun comes up over water. Even when we talk of where we would live other than here, it’s in a state kissing the Pacific.

My daughter has reminded me of why I live here. Why I love the ocean even though I have neglected it over the years. With her toes on the edge of the waves and her screams of delight as her feet sink into sand I am reminded of the greatest love affair I have ever known. I caress the word, turning it over in my mouth, letting it spill ever so softly off my lips and as I whisper “home” my heart is full.

This kid doesn't ever miss a cue!

Click the photo to hear from Anya (audio post, yo).

For those of you who cannot listen, the above audio post gives a little taste of all the "talking" Anya is doing lately. She so cute, I'm gonna go make me an Anya sammich and EAT HER UP.

Alright Already!

I went with Gilmore Girls. My theory was that it was the only one of the three shows that really should be watched in order. I can catch the others when the rerun season heats up. You see how my brain works? Truly a wonder.

10 little questions

Solistella is up to no good again and here I go, falling for her ways. Shoot me a linky in comments if you catch the meme bug and feel like playing. Or just insult my lame memory in comments; I can handle you, PUNK.

Hey baby, what are you wearing?
Blue jeans, “Hey Boo Boo” tee, wool sweater, supergirl underwear, nursing bra (damn sexy, yo), faded black socks, wedding ring and a cute little clippie in my funky short hair. It’s turning cooler now in my little corner of the universe and I have the supreme joy of putting my girls in footie jammies. Weeeee!

What are you currently reading?
Just started: Just finished:
I’m planning to update this on my sidebar on a regular basis, so check it out in the future (if you are so inclined).

Name five songs to which you know all the words.
My memory sucks ass. Not only do I not know the words to many songs but I right now cannot remember what songs may even be in the running. I can get through most of the cheesy kids songs like Itsy Bitsy Spider and ... the other one. See? See how sucky that part of my brain is? Go away.

If you could change anything about your job, what would it be?
I’m currently a mom. Best job EVER.

What's the funniest thing you've overheard lately?
Meh… you’re asking for my memory again. BITCH! OK, well this isn’t that current but at my Grandmother’s funeral last month one of her friends was talking about how Grandma was stubborn and particular when she blurted out, “If you were going do it with Margaret, you were going to do it her way and so she liked it!” In the midst of all that grief I couldn’t help but find this wildly funny and it took everything I could to not revert to a snickering teenager and guffaw aloud.

Are you religious?
I was raised Lutheran with a hefty dose of Catholic coming at me from my extended family. Can you imagine their disappointment that I lean towards Pagan? However, I’m not really into ritual. OK, scratch that, I'm into my own rituals, holding with the belief that those things you create in your life have more power than any preset ritual you could read out of a book. In general I think faith should be an ever flowing, changing, exploration of the world around you, the earth, the higher powers you believe in, etc. I find organized religion to not really allow that flow. I don't want to be told what to believe and how, I just want to figure it out at my own pace.

I am totally open to the idea that everyone's religious leaning is their own choice and HATE when people proselytize and insist only their choice is the only correct one.

What makes you blush?
Admitting to my husband that the sex dream I just had did not have him in it.

Have you ever met anyone famous?
I’ve bought lunch for Tom Stoppard , drove Marian Ross around town, bantered with John Lithgow while he made silly faces at Lily, been insulted by Roger Reese, sat in on rehearsals for The Full Monty and met most of the cast, bumped into Austin Pendleton, Keb' Mo', Daniel J. Travanti, Norbert Leo Butz, Joanna Gleason… it’s a list isn’t it! If you don’t recognize most of those names just accept they’re mostly theatre people. That was one of the fun parts about working for a major regional theatre.

What gives your life meaning?
Like so many of you reading this blog, being a mama is the most amazing thing I could ever hope to be. I also really get off on helping people learn the parenting ropes (i.e. breastfeeding, educating about informed vaccine choices, introducing people to cloth diapers and getting Christa new clients for her kick ass slings.)

Google your first name. How many results come up?
About 28,500,000 hits for Elaine, 18,600,000 for my alter ego Ginger. I’m one popular gal.

Dirty pleasure

Do you want to know what I’ve just been doing? I’ve been making some very hard decisions. I’ve been weighing the options, listening to my gut and going back and forth, not sure which way to go. Do you want to know what these decisions are about? Only keep reading if you are willing to lose all faith in me being a “true” hippie.

Ready for this?

I have just spent the last hour with paper, pencil and internet trying to figure out what television shows I will devote my time to this fall. I made a chart, people. I agonized over conflicting show times. I mean, seriously: how does one chose between the hunky David Boreanaz and his new uber geeky show about forensic science Bones, the wit and witticism of our silly Gilmore Girls and the fabulous uniforms in NCIS with the stoical and still sexy Mark Harmon? They are all on at the same freaking time! We don’t have TiVo, people! What the hell am I supposed to do? Thank goddess the only thing on after this eight pm pileup worth watching is House with the sardonic yet delightful Hugh Laurie (yummy in his own right).

Some days are easy: it’s all crap. Other days throw me annoying glitches with clever little discrepancies like showing Criminal Minds as a nine pm Wednesday show and then listing it on the premiere page as occurring at ten pm on a Thursday. Damn you, TV Guide and your evil inequities! Making me do more research when it's a new show that may suck anyway. Pft!

This is simply too much for me. I need a nap. Maybe I should just stare at my sleeping children or read a good book instead.

Beach

Despite the fact that we live in a beach town, we rarely make it to the actual beach. It’s always so hot and crowded and there is so much sand and the water is COLD. I grew up six blocks from the beach and we went all the time, summers stamped with bogie boards and sweat. I was beginning to think I was just beached out, totally lacking the desire to make an ocean side pilgrimage.

But today. Ah, yes. Today we all trooped over to dog beach and I saw the grandness of the Pacific through Lily’s sweet eyes. She chased the waves, laughing with delight after I showed her how to call them: “Come ‘ere, water! Come on!” patting our legs like we were bringing the dog in for supper. She’d jump up and down and clap “YAY” when a wave came as bided and do a little happy dance before calling it again. We showed her how to form shapes in the sand with toys, a trick she found delightful and surprising every single time the moist sand would hold together, perfectly forming an octopus or hippo. She dipped her toes in the water and fell face first in a wave, disoriented by the rush of water around her ankles, her balance and gravity working against her to bring her to tears, but only for a moment. She was so enchanted with the ocean that she couldn’t admit she had to pee and just stood there at odd angles before finally just allowing herself to pee in the sand while we laughed at her repeated insistence that she did NOT have to go! In a burst of confidence she rushed out into the receding water to her daddy, flinging her arms around him, lifted hands to hands and dangling endlessly when the next wave rushed in; feet tucked effortlessly as she peered down at moving water in awe. A freaking target dog attacked her twice, knocking her to the ground with flailing paws, desperate to kiss her. She cried and shuddered while we searched her for scratches or bites… and then, tired of our coddling, she ran back to the ocean to play. I stood with a sleeping babe at my breast, watching the little girl who was only yesterday this tiny and felt myself flush with pride of her resolve, her independence, her pure joy at something I had written off after so many years. It was as though my eyelids were wiped clean and the beach held a whole new brightness and magic. I just wish we hadn’t waiting until the end of summer to make a visit.

Click the photo below to see our brave explorer in action.

Home. Tired. Done.

We have returned from our little trip to see my Grandfather and our full frontal assault of Disneyland/California Adventures. While we had a blast, I have come to one very important conclusion: taking a toddler and an infant to Disneyland is not the brightest idea this college grad has ever had. We could have had just as much fun, spent far less money and had the joy of sleeping in our own bed had we stayed in our own town and hit up Sea World, the zoo or heck, the PARK. Ah well, lesson learned. We’ll go back again when Anya is around four-years-old. Here’s what else I learned from our trip:

Bringing a toddler and an infant to a retirement home dining hall to enjoy lunch with my Grandfather is like walking through a Grateful Dead concert holding up a big ol’ bag of pot in one hand and some x in the other. You’re gonna get mobbed, but in a slow moving, happy kind of way.

Lily loves to travel in the car.

The presence of a screaming, unhappy infant who likes the car not will invalidate the preceding statement.

While restaurants like The Rainforest Café seem cheesy to us seasoned adults, it is a whole world o’ wonder to a toddler. Unfortunately, it’s also very real and the “storm” that rolls through every 22 minutes can send her flinging into her daddy’s lap where she will cling to him as though the gypsies have come to take her away.

When Lily gets nervous, she doesn’t just suck on her thumb. She attempts to shove her entire hand in her mouth. While this trick will help her vastly during college drinking games, it looked a little manic on a two-year-old. OK, manic but incredibly cute.

While my toddler can be coxed onto a carousel with cries of, “Just like on Mary Poppins!” my infant couldn’t care less about Poppins or assurances that it’s fun. She simply wanted me to get off the damn horse and take her with me.

“It’s a Small World” is annoying. Trying to talk on a cell phone to a lender about why our loan hasn’t funded while floating within the world of those crazy small children is ludicrous… and yet, my husband did it anyway.

Costume characters, while infinitely interesting, are not to be touched. Any attempt by a parent or costume character to circumvent this rule will be met with scowls, looks of suspicion and an occasional yelp. Same goes for goats.

Wearing a nursing tank top with boobs like mine makes me look like I am carrying around a shelf in my shirt. No, you may not set your beer there.

The happiest place on earth is exhausting. True exhaustion can be achieved by only two days in a theme park and two nights without sleep at a hotel. For a while I thought I had a stress fracture in my foot (a trip to the chiro fixed that). My calves are all hurty.

Turning 30 may be exhausting but it sure is fun.

Check out our photo set on Flickr by clicking on the photo below.

New tooth, a happy birthday and see you later

Lily has a new tooth! The first of her two-year molars made its appearance sometime in the last couple of days. We made this discovery tonight at dinner when Lily started scooping ice out of her water and chomping on it with delighted grins and groans. Mark asked her to open up and sure enough, there it be, peaking its little top out of her gums. Everyone talks of the horror that is the two-year molars, but if she takes all of them as well, we are simply the luckiest parents on the freaking planet! Whooohoo!

My birthday was splendid. Lily had given me my gift the day before in this stunning piece of art:

Easily my favorite gift EVER. Bet you didn’t know Lily had four hands. TOLD YOU SHE IS SPECIAL.

We didn’t do much on the actual anniversary of my birth and that was fine by me. First was breakfast with my dad and his wife, with the hope that my sister, brother-in-law and new baby Nichole would make an appearance. They didn’t make it but hell, they have a four-day-old baby so I didn’t actually expect that they would. After that we went back home and put the girls down for naps and spent some time together. Futzed around with the kids in the afternoon, followed by a trip to the park so Lily could get in her swinging fix, building up to the grand finale of dinner at my moms with her wacky neighbors in attendance (“FROG LEGS? Who eats frog legs? I’ve never heard of such a thing!!” And no, we were not eating frog legs, thank you very much).

The cake was divine (spice cake with maple frosting, both family recipes) and since we were eating out on the deck we managed not to set the house on fire when my mom insisted on putting the full complement of candles on the confection. Lily thought the bonfire on the cake was a wonderful thing and insisted on sitting on my lap while it burned threateningly near her curly little head.

Luckily there was not a single burning toddler incident.

We are running off to Disneyland tomorrow after a brief visit with my Grandfather and so I will leave you with the latest batch of cute from the Anya files:

Thankful

Dear M,
Just thinking of you in the aftermath of this mess down in your town. If you are able, just give me a quick shout to let me know you're OK. I'm cool with just one word from you if you don't have time to really write! I just want to know that you are safe. Also, let me know if you need anything.

Hoping you are well.
Elaine

His reply:

Hi Elaine!

Thank you so much for your concern and it's great to hear from an old friend.

I drove up to north of Memphis where my parents moved two years ago from New Orleans. I made it here after a 14 hour drive from New Orleans (normally takes 6-7).

Totally unreal… past few days have been a total blur. I am pretty sure my apartment didn't flood from images on the news. I am on the dry side of that levy break, but my apartment is very close to it. If my windows didn't blow out, or the big tree that is by my back door balcony didn't fall down into my apartment, I should be okay. But I am just pretty much reserved to the fact that I want to move now. It's just incredibly sad.

It's terrifying to even think about how to get to where my belongings are now. I don't know when I will be able to get back to my place actually. My parish is saying they will let people in on Monday to come in and get their belongings, but they have to leave after that.

My boyfriend came with me, and from what we have heard, his home in one of the outlying river parishes is intact with some wind damage, but he has running water. Power hasn't been restored, but the local power company is saying three days for restoration, since his area was spared the worst effect. He lives in Destrahan, which is roughly 20 miles from the chaos that is New Orleans. My apartment is about 5 miles from the
chaos.

Have already sent my portfolio resume to an ad agency in Houston. I think now is the time to maybe look at San Diego. I don't know where my job is going to be as we probably won't have power for a couple months (that’s good estimate) and my boss is good to me, but of course has his own worries. I just do not feel comfortable staying in a city that is going to be reeling from this for years. Half the city is just really gone.

Hate to sound doom and gloom, but that’s the situation, but I am aok, and enjoying the peace and quiet where my parents live up here. Sort of a country setting. Very peaceful.

Will let you know more as I know what is going to happen!

M

Naughty and Nice

I’ve got one shot for the nice ones:



And a whole set for the naughty:



click on the photo above for the whole story

Flirting with fat

I don’t have many opportunities these days to hang out with my girlfriends, but Alora and her family came into town for a visit and so the old gang got together the other night. I left Lily with Mark but brought my little nursling with me and we all met up at Mellissa and Vikki’s. Mellissa is going through a divorce and dealing with all the fun that goes with it while living most of her time up with her new partner up in the Napa area of California. Their divorce is in some ways very complicated and in others frighteningly easy but the bottom line is they are working out the details with astonishing aplomb. Our talk that evening was about our children, our partners, housekeeping… GAH! Housekeeping? Yes, and it was a rawking good topic too, so bite your tongue! At one point Mellissa pointed out what we were discussing and we all had a good laugh when you consider what our topics used to be those of a twenty something singleton (or newlywed in my case).

We did make a trip into the body image realm, focusing on how Mellissa divorce has made her shed weight and my pregnancy has made me gain it. Lucky for me, Mellissa and I are the same body type (she’s my cousin, btw) and she looked at my three-month post-partum body and knew exactly what size I was wearing and gave me a good idea of the path my body would likely take over the next year or so. Her kids are three years apart and so she told me what weaning had done for her weight loss, something I didn’t get to experience with Lily because she was still nursing during my pregnancy with Anya. She pointed out that I would likely be the same size I am right now until Anya is about a year old and can I just tell you that it was actually a relief to hear? I’ve been living with this vague sense of stagnation: don’t buy new clothes, you’ll be loosing weight soon; you better start thinking about dieting, etc. So I was walking around in clothing either too big or too small hating my image in the mirror and feeling horribly guilty about the food I was consuming (despite the fact that I know you need more calories while nursing). With her gentle predictions, I was able to let it go. This is the body I get to live with for now and I might as well enjoy it. She told me I really should make a trip up to where she lives and works in Harbin as the people there absolutely adore the body of a pregnant or nursing mom. “I know people tell me I look hot with my body this thin,” she told me, “but you… you look so sexy. You’ve got something going ON with those amazing curves.”

You see, my friends. THIS is why I like girl time. Men think they need to fix you. Women – those who are close friends anyway – just take one look at your post-partum body and make you feel like a goddess.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going shopping. And I just might stop for a BIG lunch, too!