We've moved!

I'm happy to say that the hippies have moved out of the VW Microbus and into new, posh digs. Please change your bookmarks, bloglines, rss, atom, whatever, to reflect the following:

www.gingerleaffarm.com

If you click on over you'll see where you can get new feeds!

Cha-cha-cha changes!

Krystyn is a goddess. But then, you already knew that, right? This kick ass mama has designed me an amazing new website and we’re in the process of making it fly over the next week. If we’re lucky, things will only be freaky for a while. If we’re not, it could get to be crazy good fun. We’ll be transferring the archives over from the old site and spinning around on our office chairs singing, “Weeeeeeeee!” so bear with us, yo. The end result will be totally worth it. Pinky swear.

Sisters share an apple

'Member that?

Lily: 'Member that, Mommy?
Me: What, Lily?
Lily: 'Member when I was born?
Me: Oh, yes. I remember it well. Do you remember it?
Lily: Uh huh.
Me: Really? What do you remember?
Lily: We went to the store.
Me: Hmmm, and then what?
Lily: And then we went on the airplane.
Me: Huh? I don't remember that part.
Lily: I do. It was fun.
Me: Glad you enjoyed it!

Dry run

We took the girls to an egg hunt today at the home of a playgroup friend. Lily had a blast running around with her friends and discovering the little treasures all over the tri-tiered yard. With the swings, slides, kids, food, activity and her ever precious Daddy, Lily pretty much thought she was in heaven. Anya wasn’t quite sure what all the fuss was about and when plopped in the grass mere feet from an egg, just looked at me blankly and then giggled. Maybe next week when we bring the girls over to the big family get together, Lily will be a pro and Anya will at least try to crawl after an egg or two. And maybe, just maybe, Lily will wear an outfit that reflects the correct holiday. I'm not holding my breath on that one, though.

As always, you can check out the photo set on Flickr; just click on the photo below.

She sells seashells...

Yesterday when Mark and I went to go pick up Lily from Grandma’s house, we were greeted at the door by a trail of seashells winding all the way to the kitchen. My mom had given Lily a tiny set of tongs and with them she had plucked the shells from the muffin tin provided and lined them all up. She could identify all the different types and was so proud of her shell train, I though she just might burst.

My teen two-year-old

Lily loves phones and will walk around blabbering incoherently for hours if given the opportunity and a complete and utter lack of a live person on the other end. Mark’s mom will call and we’ll put Lily on the line and there she’ll sit, silent while Grandma does her best to get a response. Lil will smile but won’t utter a single sound.

Until today.

Mark handed her the phone and said, “Say Hi to Grandma!”
“HI!”

WHAAAAA?

We were shocked. And then she said MORE!

“I’m playing in my sand[box]!” A full sentence was uttered! There was even a bit more chatter but we missed it as Mark and I spent the entire conversation mouthing urgently to each other over Lily’s curly little head. We were stunned.

Maybe her new found love of gabbing on the phone has to do with the other shift that she been undergoing. Yesterday at playgroup (you remember playgroup, don’tcha?) she decided it would be delightful good fun to run off. As in, the other side of the building where I cannot find her and think my heart is going to explode in a blinding moment of panic. I even caught her making a subsequent break and told her to stop, but she kept on trucking. Her whole attitude lately has been that of a rebellious teenager. It’s like she’s realized she only has a few more months before she turns three and doesn’t want to miss out on the famed terrible twos.

And Anya? She’s decided that a moment without Mama is equivalent to the END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT. Mark made a comment about how great it must be to be loved and needed so deeply. Yeah, if only it wasn’t so exhausting. Ah well, I might as well enjoy her affections while I can. By my watch, I have less than two years before she turns into a teenager.

something to look forward to...

Tonight, 62 minutes after it turns tomorrow, the time and date will be oh one, oh two, oh three, oh four, oh five, oh six (aka 01:02:03 04/05/06).




Told you I'm a geek.

And so we shop

Lily has an older second cousin who is all about the girly stuff. Because of this little bit of good fortune, we’ve had to buy Lily about three items of clothing her entire life. Recently my cousin pulled out all the 3T’s from her daughters closet and set those aside for Lily. Through some random twist of fait, that bag made its way to Goodwill, effectively rendering my rapidly growing toddler naked. Naked is good in this Hippie house, but sometimes clothing is encouraged.

And can I just say? shopping for an almost three-year-old is a total kick in the pants. I hate shopping for myself, but Lily makes it a blast! I held up dresses and pants and little tops and asked, “This one or this one?” She would thoughtfully inspect each item and hem and haw and then finally say, “THIS one!” We even let her pick out a dress for Anya and now they have matching frocks for Easter (one in pink and one in purple). It was so much fun, I actually felt like a girl for a minute.

At playgroup today I was chatting to the other moms about how much fun we had when one said, “You know, ever since I became a mom to a daughter, pink just isn’t so evil anymore.”
“Seriously! Before Lily was born you’d never catch me anywhere near pink and now I not only put the girls in it but I even have a few items of my own. It’s crazy!”

We gazed at our dainty little pink clad girls as they ringed around the rosey and let the warm fuzzies wash over us. The moment kinda lost its gloss though when I had to yell, “Lily, stop beating on that little boy!”

She may be a girl, but she got game, yo.

Mommy Bloggers

They're saying nice things about me over at Mommy Bloggers. Go set them straight.

ac·ci·dent

I had a margarita with dinner and since I so rarely drink it made my cheeks flush red and my whole body hot. I felt a little silly as we approached the car and when I fell off the curb, it was pretty clear I needed to not drive. Mark took the keys and we headed for home. Traffic slowed down approaching our exit and we started talking about what would have traffic in such a snit at 8pm at night.
Mark: Maybe there’s an accident?
Me: Could be.
Lily: Accidents are funny!
Me: No, accidents are BAD.
Lily: Bad?
Me: Yep!
Lily: What you say, Mommy?
Me: An accident is where two cars… or more. Wait, there could be only one car. Does there have to be a car? I mean, if a plane crashes, they call that an accident. Ummm…
Mark: Having a little trouble there, hon?
Me: [giggling] Hey, I can do this!
Lily: Huh?
Me: Think damage and injury! YEAH! That’s an accident!

Lily: Mommy funny, Daddy.
Mark: Yeah. She’s a scream.

Domesticity report

Housekeeping: While the house isn’t a mess of peanut butter and feathers, it’s not what this panel would describe as “neat” or “tidy.” It is, indeed, average with piles of papers scattered about, kids toys on somewhat hazardous locations, and one rather scary clatter of dishes in the sink. C

Cooking: Out of a total of 21 possible meals a week, Elaine has cooked about seven of them. Points for creativity are awarded though for mircowaving a cake. Turns out that 10 minutes in a microwave safe bowl will produce a beautiful, evenly cooked, delightfully textured cake. The jury is still out on the question if it’s a good idea to have any cake available in this house. B-

Laundry: While the panel would be hesitant to claim Elaine could excel at any domestic task, she does seem to have a handle in this department. Five loads of clothing, sheets, towels and the like have been processed this week as well as the required diaper laundry (two loads). It should be noted, however, that Elaine will not iron a single thing and refuses to even purchase anything that claims to be “dry clean only.” A-

Child care: The baby has been screaming a great deal and the toddler is on a manipulative tear. It is hard to guess who can be blamed for such behavior as the panel acknowledges that children are crazy. Both girls have had one bath this week, are well fed (even if it’s mostly in restaurants) and show no signs of obvious injury or extreme illness (both children do have runny noses). While they are clearly not in any danger in the care of Elaine, the panel would be remiss in their duties if they gave an exceptional grade. B

Spousal care: Fortunately, the spouse in question is largely self sufficient. Elaine must be doing something right if she did, as she claims, receive a spontaneous text message reading, “I love you” today while at the park with the kids. The panel will point out that Elaine’s immediate reaction was to wonder what was broken or wanted. B+

Knitting: the panel is very proud of Elaine as this is a new area of study in which she seems to be excelling. This week showed the start and finish of her first hat, teaching her how to work with both circular and double pointed needles. The hat, made for the younger child, is cute and has surprisingly few mistakes in it. Samples of this work can be viewed here and here. For effort and willingness to learn a new skill, the panel is happy to award an A.

Disposition: This has clearly been a challenging week for Elaine as she has received very few sleep hours. The panel knows better and will, without picking apart the last weeks behavior, simply award an A and avoid the potential bodily harm a lesser grade might invoke. A

Ten-Months-Old

Dear Anya,
I’m having a little trouble with this whole double digit thing. How can you already be ten-months-old? As your first birthday rapidly approaches, I find myself slightly shell shocked, sitting with you asleep in my arms and trying desperately to figure out how you got so big. Already your body drapes across my lap when nursing, no longer the delicate little curl I one gathered into my arms; already you are taking bold chances towards walking and delighting yourself and you sister as you learn how to play. Last night I heard Lily ask your Dad, “What’s Anya doing, Dad?” and we both turned around to find you stuck in the middle of a step stool, belly draped across the step and head hanging down in the arch, reaching for a toy, determined to get it even if it meant landing on your noggin. You simply won’t slow down.



I’ve really been enjoying watching your discovery of the world and the way it moves around you. I can’t seem to tear my eyes from your face as you take in the frenetic movements of the ducks or the rush of the river or the bustle of the restaurant as it moves around you. You sink into the swirl of activity and analyze every bit of it and then turn to see what I think, asking your silent questions and smiling at my encouraging nods. Yes, it’s big and busy and noisy and silly and beautiful and stupid and strange and so many words you will learn as you grow. Some of it will forever be indescribable like the way your sister’s face can shift in such a subtle way that you shouldn’t know she’s thinking of something that scares her, even though you do. That gentle communication between sisters is building more and more every day and I feel so lucky and so jealous; conflicting emotions have just become the norm for me.




On Monday we went to the park and I didn’t want to put you down for fear you’d shovel sand into your mouth at breakneck speed. I finally gave up and set you with the other kids, giving you the opportunity to explore. You didn’t try to eat the sand once and that? That actually made me proud. You crawled around with a shovel in each hand, laughing and shrieking and waving your arms around with such joy, you made me laugh too. I love that you are so comfortable in your own skin and have the freedom to feel each emotion as it occurs. I don’t know when we learn to suppress or delay emotion but I sometimes wish I could just let it happen the way you and Lily do. It would be a mess, sure, but it would be honest. Sometimes I feel like the bit of honesty you and Lily offer throughout the day is the gift that keeps me sane when the news screams of all the crazy shit that won’t stop happening. I’m afraid that without you girls, I could get very jaded, very fast.



But there you sit, on the verge of finding your feet and taking exploration to a whole new level. By this time next month, I’ll likely be tearing my hair out at the park, chasing you and your sister in opposite directions. You follow her around as much as possible now, but I think you’re going to be running off after your own rainbows before I can say, “whoa there”. And that’s OK, kid. Do your own thing, even if it makes me a little crazy. After all, it’s not really about me (despite what I may lead you to believe).

And hey, if you want to eat the sand, just do it while Daddy’s watching you, OK? He’s much less excitable.

Kisses,
Mama

HIKE!

Before Mark and I had these silly urchins in our lives, we managed a small, informal hiking club. We'd get together once a week to hike a local park with friends from our theatre lives which gave us an excuse to have really cool hiking books from REI. We’ve gotten back to the trails sporadically, but not nearly as often as any of us would like. And with this extra baby weight just hanging around... well, it’s not going to loose itself, you know what I’m saying?

So I finally made the realization that if someone was expecting me to be there, I’d actually show up and emailed our playgroup friends. This is where we’ll be and this is when. Show up if you’d like, don’t if you can’t: but we’ll be there!

Today was our first hike and only one other family was able to make it on such short notice. Lily was the trail master and lead us all over the place, ending up at the dam where Van kicked his shoes into the rush of water; only one was able to be saved. Hey, his mom did say that after they left the park they were going to get him new shoes... I guess he wanted to make sure. And wouldn’t you know it, but naptime goes so much easier when the kid is worn out. BONUS!

Anyway, the weather is turning nice. Call some friends and get your ass out there. It’s totally worth it!

As always, you can find a few more photos over at Flickr.

You should see me when I need to pee

This morning I got up and made myself some breakfast and then scooted my booty out the door with Anya to attend a Pampered Chef Party (drastically different from a Pampered Chief party, lemme tell ya). While there I was appropriately dazzled by the fancy, yet functional cookware and even agreed to host a party of my very own. Seriously, I wanted to buy everything. I limited myself to $20, promising myself that when I threw a party I’d get to buy things at discount, therefore appeasing the prone-to-tantrums inner chief chef (or is that chef chief?).

The only thing I ate while there was a bit of fruit pizza and a couple of crackers smeared with hummus. While it was good, it wasn’t lunch and when I got home from my little event just after 2pm I was starving. Mark had attempted to get Lily to take a nap on the living room couch with him, but when I started rummaging around in the kitchen for sustenance, she decided she needed me. Desperately.

I took her off to her room and plopped her in bed, explained that I needed to go get something to eat and left her there to nap. She was not pleased with this plan. I had just managed to get some leftovers out of the fridge when she started wailing and it was at this moment that Mark handed me the baby and informed me he was going to go take a nap*.

Let’s recap:
Lily screaming in her room.
Anya squirming and demanding full attention.
Elaine so hungry she’s ready to do something evil.
Mark’s gonna take a nap.

It was at this point I thought he just might loose a testicle. The right one. NO! The left! He saw that his future wasn’t looking so bright and tried to take the baby back from me, while Lily continued to scream for him in her room. I actually body blocked him, told him to get out of my face before I did cause him to loose something precious and then… I’m pretty sure my head spun around on my neck, I spewed something icky and I started speaking in tongues.

THIS, dear Internet, is what happens if you mess with me while I’m trying to eat. So hand me the pasta, save the children and walk away, pretty boy; it’s in your own best interest.



*To be fair, the nap would have been with Lily, which would have kept her out of the way while I fed. I was more pissed off because that meant he wouldn’t take Anya with him and I needed just a few moments of peace to get some food in me. He’s not all bad, just tinged around the edges like bread left out too long: fuzzy, not nasty through-and-through.

I’m starting to think she’s a little odd

To be honest, I already thought she was a little odd. It’s just kinda fun to collect photographic proof of her oddness. I love her quirkiness, though. To me, it’s a sign that she is self confident and responsive to the inner creative voice that, while it may be talking smack, pushes her to think of the world as a canvas. Dressing herself is creative expression. Stacking coins is site specific art. Coming from an artistic background, I only see this “craziness” as proof that this child of mine has a strong inner voice.

Lake

We took a trip to the lake today so I could be less of a sloth and the kids could feed the ducks. My camera crapped out after a very short time, but I did catch the following fun shots:

do a favor

Mark taught Lily about favors.
“Lil, will you do me a favor?”
“Sure, Daddy!”
“Would you help me pick up the blocks before bedtime?”
“Yes!”

The other night I was getting Lily ready for bed and after I had read her a book (Go, Dog. Go!) and given kisses, I booked it out of there to get Anya to bed. Mark was on a gig, so I was single parenting bedtime. Just as I was getting Anya down I heard, “Mommy! Mommy!”
“What is it, Lil?”
“ummm…”
“Yes?”
“Do a favor?”
“What do you need, Love?”
Softly and with a tiny giggle, “Wiggle your toes.”

Tonight she asked Mark to flap his arms.

Hey, at least her stall tactics are amusing!

Laughing my ass off

blah blah blah

Driving to knitting last night, I got to thinking about some random thing and suddenly found myself on a whole ‘nother freeway. I was going to take the proper exit but it appears I am unable to use my brain properly since I had kids. But hey! I can knit! I finished project number two in record time and put it into the mail for Krystyn before I bothered to take photos (see? Not thinking!). I’m on my third project now, a silly scarf and hat combo for Lily in a funky pink/red/purple variegated eyelash yarn. I’ve redeemed myself and my love for scarves when my husband pointed out something the locals call June Gloom. Now it’s ok for me to make warm stuff, ‘cause it’ll be randomly cold in the middle of the year! Never been so happy about something with the word “gloom” in it before.

Moving on!

I got to see a fresh baby at knitting though as one of my favorite play group mama’s had her second child, a perfect little girl, just one week before. Mom looked AMAZING and happy and baby made my ovaries hurt, she’s so cute. We chatted and knitted and drank frothy coffee-like drinks and then I got to talk theatre with the café owner, as we had just seen the same play.

See why I haven’t written much lately? Nothing to say. I did get tagged by Sarah for a three’s meme, the little punk. Maybe I’ll do it, maybe I won’t. I’m not committing. Besides, what’s the likelihood that I could make my brain wrap around three of anything? I’m just thankful that Lily is taking a nap.

Giraffe crossing

Yesterday we checked out the Build A Bear Workshop at the mall. On a Saturday. In the Mall. Nothing like standing in a long line in order to spend too much money on a bunch of fluff. And my girl? Yeah, she can pick out the most expensive animal offered, without even being able to understand the concept of money. It’s a special talent many claim is inherent in the X chromosome. In fact, later in the trip my husband had a moment of clarity regarding his life with girls when both Lily and I, at the exact same moment, handed him a bag and said, “Hold this.” He stopped stalk still and whispered, “Is this going to be my life?” Yes my dear, yes it is.

It’s always hard to tell if Lily is enjoying a new experience; she’s painfully shy. An unfamiliar person asks her a question and she bursts into tears while flinging herself into her father’s arms. I seriously worry what will happen if she ever gets separated from one of us accidentally. We’re trying to teach her our full names and address and that kind of thing, but even if she gets it down pat, I doubt she’d be able to tell a stranger. I suppose we could always follow the sounds of wailing to get back to her. Mark says we should just get her tattooed.

But she did seem to dig the whole experience, despite crying at the woman who inserted the fluff, crying when directed to pick out a heart, crying when asked the name of her giraffe, crying when shown how to "pamper" the thing, crying when asked if she had fun… sigh. Anya even cried a little, just so Lily wouldn’t feel alone. She hasn't allowed her new friend out of her sight since she first laid eyes on him in the store though, so I suspect it was a hit. His name is Stilts. I suggested Sahara, because I’m a silly girl, but once Mark mentioned the name Stilts she was done talking about the subject, cutting off my next suggestion with, “his name is Stilts, Mommy.” And then she rolled her eyes at me and asked me for the car keys, since you know, she’s 16 and wants to drive. Such a shock to the poor dear when I insisted she wasn’t yet three-years-old.

I think we'll give this whole thing another go in a year or two, when she can actually participate in the experience, rather than cry and cling. Ah well, good times!

I can Knit!

I submit for your approval my very first knitting project: an eight foot long scarf*

I’m already half finished with project number two, which I can’t show you because it’s a gift for someone who reads me. She’s just gonna have to wait, yo.

All I can say is that I may just finally loose my domestic drop-out card! Weeeeeee!

* Can anyone enlighten me as to why a Southern California girl would knit a scarf just before summer? Seriously, I must be daft.

treat

Yesterday I went to Whole Foods (called by many “Whole Paycheck”) and had a little shopping spree. That place has everything and a large percentage of it was Organic. THRILLING, I tell you. I spent a bit too much money, but I was overcome by all the fabulous things housed in that marvelous store. My biggest score, at only $1.99, was Lily’s first coconut. This morning I hacked at it with three different knives and then stuck a straw in the little hole I created in the top. Lily tasted it tentatively at first, but once she figured out that the stuff in there was tasty, I couldn’t get her to let go. After that I went back to the knives and hacked off enough to get the soft flesh out. Lily was less thrilled with that, but tasted some anyway. Totally fabulous treat!

more photos on flickr

My little lunatic

Sorry to leave a depressing note and then go la la la-ing off into the night for a few days. I was determined not to write another annoying/bad/frustrating thing and so had NOTHING to say for days. But last night, Lily gave me something worth blogging, so I am at the computer this fine morning to share it all with you.

I’m assuming you have all noticed the gorgeous full moon the night sky’s been sporting as of late. Here it has cut through the chill and shone so brightly that the sky looked blue when I went to bed at 10pm last night. It’s so beautiful it turned my toddler into a certifiable lunatic. The poor child had an excess of energy pre-bedtime and we didn’t have the heart to cart her off to bed with all that crazy running through her veins; especially since she has picked up the lovely habit of throwing tantrums anytime you suggest she might need a nap or that bedtime is imminent.

But she was tired. How does an (almost) three year old cope with the dangerous mix of pent up energy and fatigue? She ran to the French doors in the dining room, gazed up at the full moon and shrieked, hands up around her head and a little hop thrown in for effect. Then she turned tail and ran across the living room to Mark, throwing herself into his arms for a snuggly hug. Back to the window to shriek and over to Dad for a hug. Shriek. Hug. Shriek. Hug. Shriek. Hug. Et cetera, et cetera. We couldn’t stop laughing, which only fueled her crazy fire. Really an excellent way to settle in for the night; try it, you’ll see.

In other news, I am this close to finishing my first knitting project and I’m already chomping at the bit to start the second. I’ll have pictures when it’s done… I’m afraid I’ll somehow curse it if I show it to you now. In fact, I may have already said too much. Hey, you can’t be too careful when you’re a chronic domestic drop out.

claustrophobic

Am hanging out in a funk lately, overwhelmed by all that is happening with growth and curiosity, dragged down by this cold that will not end. I slept for several hours today in the middle of the day, groggily accepting Anya when she needed to nurse, tucking her into the crook of my arm and sleeping with her nestled in, mouth working at milky dreams and hands stroking my bare skin in an almost motherly way. I feel weighed down and restless; trapped after weeks without any solitary moments. Anya senses my mood and clings to me, afraid I’ll take flight and disappear, making me feel even more desperately needed and claustrophobic. I don’t want to need time away to be healthy. I don’t want to be that mother. I’m suffocating under “should’s” and the intangible dream of what a good mother is and does. I just need some time alone or with some like minded girlfriends.

Thank goodness that tomorrow night is my stitch and bitch where kids nor husbands are allowed.

How do you get your time alone? How do you feel like yourself when caring for everyone else?

Rain day

Thunder rolled in last night accompanied by a health dose of fat raindrops alternating with tiny pebbles of hail. It looks like it’ll be following that pattern throughout the day, although the thunder has moved through the valley and found other people to rumble. My girls are still in their jammies, despite the fact that it’s almost noon. The girls stand at the door, watching through the glass as the hail bounces around on the deck. Lily runs out after each hail installment, plucking up the little gems and rolling them around in her fingers until they dissolve under the heat of her touch. Anya is cranky and finally fell asleep clutching a monster, little grumbles escaping her lips and complaining through her sleep. So far we’ve eaten pancakes, played with Lily’s stickers, put together the US puzzle, water painted, made snacks, mixed beans and chased the dog around and around in circles. Now we’re watching cooking shows and talking about food while Lily runs to her mini kitchen to copy what their doing, “Put dis in the oven, ummm it’s sooo good!” Mark is off helping family with some molding for a newly installed kitchen so I’m on my own today, watching the rain and cuddling with my crazy babies. Even with the wind beating the window panes and the hail making music all around us, it’s a welcome calm after the crazy week.

Ah, a crack of thunder. I guess there's still some rumbles for us.

What, are you kidding me?

This child is going to be wild good fun when she’s two. I just got off the phone with poison control; and then my midwife, because I call her for EVERYTHING these days.

Let me start from the beginning: earlier today I found a daffodil volunteer in my yard, pulled up a couple of flowers and stuck ‘em in a vase. Pretty! Lily thought so too and so pulled one of the heads off and played for a bit before she let it drop on the floor and went about her business. This was hours ago. It’s getting close to bedtime for Anya so I sit down in a chair to nurse her. She falls asleep and about five minutes later starts throwing up. And throwing up. And hey, look at that, some more vomit! That’s when I notice the daffodil head smeared down the front of her vomit soaked jammies. Luckily, she’s still mostly breastfed, so it was pretty easy to spot the solid in the milky vomit. She’s still vomiting while I’m online, looking up daffodils to see if they’re poisonous and gee, they’re at the top of the freaking list! The bulb is deadly! Weeeee!

Luckily, the bulb is still out there in my yard so she didn’t eat that part, just the flower, but I called poison control anyway. It’s been that kind of week. The guy there was cool and said that it looked like I might expect some more vomit, but that’s the end of the line for reactions on something like this. He told me to wait awhile before I give her anything to eat or drink to let her stomach settle and is calling me back in an hour to check on her. If she was formula fed there would be some concern about dehydration, but once her tummy settles, breastmilk should do perfectly and should stay down.

Lily was the kind of kid who didn’t like mess, never put anything in her mouth, was super cautious. Anya, though; Anya really is going to give me a run for my money, isn’t she? Spirits protect us when she starts walking.

Seriously, you're asking?

Me: Hey, I don’t want the baby playing with that.
Him: What, the ax?

Where I babble randomly

I just fed Anya a pancake for the first time (made from scratch and without any butter or syrup on top, of course). She took one bite and grinned wildly, giggling and stuffing the treat into her mouth. I guess the girl likes her some pancakes. Since those top two teeth finally cut and she can now rip at things, I’m being a bit more adventurous with what I offer her. The kid really is crazy for solids.

She’s also started playing peak-a-boo with us recently. She’ll drag a playsilk or napkin or placemat… really anything she can grab hold of, and pull it up to cover her face. Then she whips it down quickly and dramatically, showing us the biggest grin she can gather. The girls are really starting to play together now and that just makes me crazy happy to watch. Lily isn’t always so gentle, but at least she seems to be interested in playing; the hurting is just a side bonus.

We may be moving towards night weaning. Last night Anya only asked to nurse twice and one of those times she was just as happy with the pacifier. Does this mean sleep is in my future? Please, let it not just be a fluke.

We’re hanging out at home again today due to the illness that refuses to leave my family. Anya is rapidly improving since the teeth came in, Lily is getting better as well and Mark seems to be seeing the other side. I however want nothing more than a nap. Will I be getting one? Not likely. I do, however, think I’ll lobby for a shower. It’s only been three days. Crap, I think it’s been at least that long for the girls. Looks like it might be a group shower then. Always fun and entertaining!

Off to wake the husband (he worked crazy hours last night) and see if I can’t get this party started.

OUT OF MY FREAKING MIND

Guess what’s happening, dear Internet.
Come on, guess!
Think, Elaine’s worst nightmare.

THAT’S RIGHT!

Another freaking hive of bees is trying to move into my house! This would be the FOURTH hive in two years. FOUR! HIVES! In TWO years! GAH!

Seriously, what lesson am I supposed to be learning here? What the hell is going on that bees love me and my family so much? If I wasn’t afraid of them, they’d totally be hanging out somewhere else, I just KNOW it.

At least this time, they aren’t between me and one of my children.

Running off to whimper in a corner while I wait for someone from the bee removal company to show up and make my nightmare cease.

EDITED TO ADD:

I’m thinking that maybe if I set up some bee boxes in the canyon, maybe the bees will just go there next time. Is that an insane thought? Anyone know a bee person to whom I can speak?

Maybe it would be helpful if a certain husband of mine closed up the HOLES in the wall as well, but that’s probably just crazy talk.

If that wasn't enough...

So I'm walking back from the kitchen with two big glasses of water for my sick family (all of us are going down now with me working on a sore throat, Lily with 103 temp, Anya in teething hell and Mark coughing up a lung) when I notice Anya holding something in her hand. It looked just out of place enough and small enough that I got down next to her to look, right about the time she started screaming. She was holding a bee. I got her to drop it by shaking her hand while saying, "OH GOD, LET IT GO, WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY, NO NO!!..." etc. You see, I'm allergic to bees. Not the failure-to-be-able-to-breathe kinda allergic, just the wow-who-knew-a-hand-could-swell-so-big kinda allergic, so I kinda panicked. I finally found the stinger in the other hand, which implies my little girl got stung and then reached over and tore the bee off her finger and was in the process of teaching him a thing or two when I found her. You go, girl. Mark yanked out the stinger and we got some ice on her hand pronto. Then I panicked some more and called the doctor and my midwife (who is a holistic heath goddess). Everyone agreed the ice was good and gave me the signs to look for a severe reaction. There's always the worry that when one parent has an atypical reaction to a bee sting that the kid will too. So far no trouble breathing and now she's sleeping peacefully with me checking on her breathing every, oh... two seconds. Mark ran to the store and got the topical Benadryl the doctor suggested so hopefully her finger will look less like a sausage soon. I am calming down (kinda) and hoping that nothing else shows up to mess with my family's health.

Holding a bee... seriously, WHO DOES THAT? Geez. Crazy baby.

Our trip in photos

Click the photo to jump over to the full photo set over on Flickr.

sick baby

I apologize for not giving a post trip wrap up and pictures loaded to Flickr but I’ve been trapped on the couch most of the day by a very sick little girl. If Anya isn’t sleeping fitfully, she’s screaming. Seriously unhappy and unwell. And I just found something very disturbing in her diaper, of which I will spare you the details. Her cough is awful. I’m worried, but not enough to rush her off to a doctor. Those stupid teeth are finally cutting and I suspect that this is all related, but you know how us moms are… we scare easily when our babies are sick. I am secretly paranoid that the Motrin or nose drops I gave her are causing the scary diaper and I’ve damaged her.

Lily is running a fever and coughing as well, but at least she isn’t displaying signs of never ending pain. She and Mark are sleeping in her room right now while I hold Anya and think about the dinner I’m not making. I’m just hoping the grumbles coming from my midsection don’t wake the baby.

Check out Krystyn’s post and pictures. She has outdone herself in poetic expression of our moments in time together. I seriously adore her.

Off to cuddle the baby some more and watch too much TV.

Thirty Eight Years and Nine Months

This month you get a two-fer! Today Mark turns 38 and Anya turns nine months… kinda. She actually turns nine months on the 29th but we’re not having one of those this month, so I’m smashing them together. Hey, I’m on vacation, give me a break!

Dear Anya and Mark,
There is something so final for me about a baby turning nine months. Somehow I got the idea that a baby spending as much time topside as they did in utero means that they’re here to stay. I always take a big breath on this day and squeeze the baby in question, grateful that this amazing child is in my life and looking forward to the rest of their lives, stretched out in front of them like a stunningly vibrant ribbon. And Anya, you are so stunning and so vibrant that I often catch my breath and stuff a fist in my mouth to stop myself from sobbing at your perfect smile. I am overwhelmed by you. I sit and watch the intricate dance of play you share with Lily and feel like I have created a perfect complement to my big girl. You two are so in love with each other and I hope, even when you’re fighting over the petty, dramatic or deadly serious you always remember how deeply you are connected.

And Mark, I couldn’t have known what I would find when I first said yes to your touch. I thought I was just getting a boyfriend and instead I have gotten this amazing coconspirator. Not only are you my best friend but you are the most loving and involved father I could have ever hoped to have for my children. I watch you with the girls and feel like I hit the jackpot. Without you this job would be so much harder and not nearly as much fun. Without you by my side, the winding path of my life would be full of brambles and unexpected holes. Walking the path together I have the fortune of your gentle touch, steering me around the pitfalls or the warmth of your hand as we cross the river together. You make me a sappy, silly person and I can’t stop myself from giggling when I think of all the stories you have brought into my life. You are adventures and funny and you take on the world with such a steady gaze; I never fear the fleabag hotels (Mexico), the unintended homosexual advances (Alaska), your calm in the face of machine gun toting boys (Soccoro Island), or the grumpy passengers on an overcrowded airplane (Canada and this trip). You are the family I have chosen and together we have filled out our clan with two of the most amazing children that there ever were. Thank you.

I can’t imagine my life without either of you or Lily. You people make life Technicolor.

Happy Birthday, Mark. And nine months of life with you, Anya… priceless and astonishing.

Smooches on your heads,
The woman you both call “Love”

Vacationing with my family ROCKS

This morning we got up, had a bite to eat and then sat around waiting for the ducks. The hotel we’re staying in has this cool little tradition where every morning at 11am they roll out a red carpet and about half a dozen ducks make a grand entrance, race along the path at breakneck speed, up a set of red carpeted stairs and throw themselves into a fountain in the middle of the lobby where they attack a platter full of duck food. The people all clap and take pictures and the kids think it’s the best show on earth. Rocking free entertainment, yo.

After all that excitement, we took a walk over to the mall and had Starbucks to warm up after Lily enjoyed the mall fountain just a little too closely. From there we walked a little more while figuring out what to do with the remaining days Mark has off. Tomorrow (Mark’s Birthday) we’re going to try to go check out the Kennedy Space Center and the day after that we’re going to take it easy while romping around Wonderworks, this odd up-side-down building thing with crazy science experiments and stuff. I donno, it looked cool.

This afternoon we hit up Sea World where Lily was bored by the Sea Lion and Otter show and enthralled by the dog and cat show. She also was appropriately awed by the sharks. Now Lily and Mark are getting some dinner while Anya and I hang out in the room so she can cry and throw herself around angrily. Not sure what the deal is, but she’s been so good up ‘till now, I’m just letting her have her moment.

Overall this vacation is making me giddy with glee. Keep your fingers crossed that it’ll keep on keeping on.

Finally got my husband back

Friday night Mark went to work at about six pm and didn’t get back in until after midnight. He had to be back in the hotel ballroom by eight am Saturday and 15 hours later he stumbled into bed. Then he had to be back again at eight am Sunday. By the time Krystyn, the kids and I made it back from the Science Center around four pm, he was dressed, somewhat rested and ready for dinner. I get to keep him until Thursday morning when he goes back in to load out the show, a task that should only take six hours (fingers crossed, yo). At one point in the middle of all this he said, “Now do you see what it’s like for me when I’m out of town?” He must have known that I had images of him living it up and eating in restaurants while I wrangled two cranky kids all by myself. Not so much. Poor guy. I also see why he is feeling so motivated to get out of the business. He had a laundry list of stuff that went wrong and how he had to get increasingly more creative to solve each issue. His ingenuity is hot, btw; but most likely only to me.

As for Krystyn and the kids; we had a BLAST. I’d have pictures to show you but it turns out my camera cable got left at home. All the fabulous photos are trapped in the camera, screaming to be let loose and I have no way to accomplish that. You’ll have to wait. But I will report that Krystyn is just a fun and fabulous and adorable as you thought she was. And her boys are funny, charming, smart, sweet and the kind of kids you just hope grow up and marry your daughters. Lily and Krystyn’s youngest ran around hand in hand the whole time, Lily totally smitten and he tolerating it with style. She adored them, deeply, passionately… to the extent that while she sat on the potty she looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said, “I wanna see my friends now.” So cute.

We can’t wait to see them again later in the week.

Greetings from Theme-land

For those of you who don’t know, we all got up Thursday morning at 4am to catch our flight, only to sit on the tarmac for two hours until they finally gave up on the “navigation” problem and cancelled our flight. We managed to catch an uncrowded flight to Phoenix but had a heck of a time getting a flight to Orlando. Settling for three single seats, we finally managed to get seats together thanks to two very awesome people who gave up their seats in exchange for free booze.

The girls were AMAZING. Anya slept through both flights, clinging to me like a monkey and nursing whenever her ears gave her trouble. I had gathered an arsenal of distractions for Lily and they worked like a charm. She had one small melt down at the end of our last flight, dropping off to sleep about five minutes before we started our descent into Orlando. As everyone filed off the plane they passed by complimenting our perfect children. I think we’ll be keeping them (the children, not those who complemented them).

We picked up our rental car and headed into town, grabbing dinner and then finding our hotel. They had overbooked but the client (remember, this is a work trip for Mark) had let us know in advance so we drove straight there and slept for ten hours straight. Anya only woke to nurse and only a couple of times. It was glorious.

Now we’re in the hotel we’ll be in until we go stay with Krystyn and glory be, it has free high speed wireless internet. It also has a bed I can push up against the wall so no little girls fall out. Nice. And a minibar we can’t afford to even open up. OH, and soap shaped like a duck. How’s that for fancy?

Mark works at 5pm tonight and the girls and I will probably wander around and check out the hotel, finding some dinner and then return to the room to jump on the beds. Tomorrow we get to meet up with Krystyn and her family for a bit. Despite the rocky start, things have been going really well and the kids are freaking awesome. Wish us luck for continued excellence.

Adventures in traveling

Ten days, four people, three bags... that's just crazy talk

There are piles of clothes everywhere: some fresh from the laundry, other hauled out of drawers, small ones, little ones, ones that climb on rocks. The laundry is still rolling, thankfully there is an end to that in site. On my dining room table sits a small stack of keys, notes, checks, my camera and its cable, random bits of paper, lists, a painting Lily and I made, Lily’s teapot… let’s just say it’s a mess. Most of the clothing Mark and I are bringing is packed into a single duffle bag while the girl’s piles have not yet begun to take shape. Mark has spent most of the morning looking over drawings and set plans so that the load-in can go a smoothly as possible. I scrambled eggs and soyrizo together for lunch, heating tortillas and beans to complement and shoving a plate in Mark’s hands as he entertained the crabby baby. Lil is off at Grandma’s house, a gift I am so very grateful for at this moment.

There is still so much to do.

So what am I doing? You’re looking at it.
What’s Mark doing? Just look at this:



He’s going to be so THRILLED I shared that with y’all.

But we have a 6:30 flight which means we need to be at the airport at about 5:00 which means we have to be up around 4:00am (yep, ANTE meridiem… as in way too freaking early to do anything reasonable or legal), so I’m feeling a little crazy and a little vindictive and just a little like y’all better stay out of my way. And holy crap, I just said “y’all” twice and I am NOT from the south.

Sigh.

Must go face the piles of toddler and baby clothes.

Must not start sobbing uncontrollably.

IT’S VACATION, DAMMIT!

Travel plans

We’re getting ready to take off on a 10 day vacation. Mark has a gig in Florida and since one my fellow Mama Says Om mamas lives in that sunny state, the girls and I will be tagging along. While I enjoy being on vacation, getting ready for one makes me crazy. I hate packing, always convinced I’m missing some vital element without which our good times will be thwarted. Mark has to remind me repeatedly that they have stores where we’re going, all will not be lost if I fail to remember underarm deodorant (adding to my list of things to pack). I hate the stress of traveling by air, worrying endlessly of missed connections, overzealous security checks and my girls deciding to melt down on a crowded plane. I’ve never flown with both of them before; unless you count the flight Lily and I took when I was three months pregnant with Anya. Even though I have a wonderful friend who is a super genius pet-sitter, I also worry about my dog, cat, plants and the house (more or less in that order).

But mostly, I make lists. Endless lists detailing every last thing I can think to bring or do before we go. Today I need to return an audio book to the library, pick up cat food, and make a run to the toy store to find a few special items for Lily to obsess over on the plane. I am considering stopping off at a drug store to get some sort of cold medicine for the kids that will hopefully have the effect of knocking them out and keeping the runny noses from being too horrific for the duration of the flight. I’m not one to drug my kids, so I’m struggling with this decision, not sure which way to go. Anya is a bit too young for any of that stuff really, so it’s mostly about Lil.

So, yeah. I’m a little crazy today. I’m trying very hard not to snap at my kids or curl up in a corner with my hands pressed to my ears as though they could possibly hold off the world.

How do you travel with kids? What tricks help you make it through a cross country flight? Seriously, I’m open to suggestion.

20 Things

I used to have this reoccurring nightmare where I’d be driving up a hill and it would get so steep the car would eventually tip over backwards sending us ass over teakettle down the hill. I actually saw it happen once on TV and I haven’t had the nightmare since. The last thing I have to do before I fall asleep is make a bathroom run. If I lay awake too long, I have to get up and pee. This makes it hard to go camping. When I was little, my dad was so paranoid about a house fire that he’d make us do late night fire drills. When I told this to an old boyfriend, he said, “You are such a white girl.” I still don’t know what that means and it’s probably a big part of the reason I left him. I have a noise discrimination hearing disorder, but it’s never been properly diagnosed. Therefore, I often like to pretend it doesn’t exist. My mother and I share a name. Lily and I do too. I miss my brother. I was so angry when I was a teenager that I treated my mom like shit. I finally apologized to her last week. I have a birthmark on my belly that has absolutely no pigment. It looks really cool when I have a tan. I haven’t had a tan on my belly for over ten years. I am terrified of bees. When it’s sunny out, I cannot drive without sunglasses. When I was about six years old, some guy exposed himself to me. I didn’t have a clue what he was up to and it wasn’t until I was a teen that I figured it out. And no, I don’t feel emotionally scarred. I’m not a fan of white walls. Space deserves color; I just don’t have the patience to paint them myself. I haven’t shaved my legs in months and I’m trying to decide if I should bother ever doing it again. I am incredibly self conscious about my body. I don’t want my daughters to be self conscious about their own bodies. I love comfortable shoes and refuse to wear heals. I absolutely adore hats of all kinds. I don’t wear hats of any kind. In high school I fell in love with criminals. In college I was all about actors. In my late 20’s I fell in love with two little girls. Now that I’m 30, I’m starting to learn how to fall in love with myself.

Random Saturday

Time to get caught up on some of the crazy stuff of the past week I haven’t had time to blog.

• Wednesday we went to go check out the new sculpture at the Museum of Modern Art. I had heard about it on public radio that morning and since we didn’t have any plans for the day, we stopped by. Turns out it’s closed on Wednesday’s, but you can see the sculpture garden from the street near the beach. It’s an amazing piece of engineering but it didn’t move me emotionally; still a wild thing to behold. Just down the street is a little piece of beach that has become a big controversy. It’s called the Children’s Pool, but it’s not a place a kid could play. One reason is a lack of thought in architecture: the man made break that curves around the inlet doesn’t allow the cove to wash out well, therefore it becomes very polluted. This issue is compounded by the second reason: seals have moved in and have no interest in leaving. Some local citizens what them out and are willing to pay big bucks to make it happen. Others believe that if the seals want the beach, it was their’s before it was ours, so have at! It’s become a spot for birthing, mating, playing and tourists crowd around the sea wall to get a glimpse. As a Wannabe Hippie, you can guess where my loyalties lie.

• Lily keeps stealing my camera and dropping it or trying to make it grow by spraying it with the hose. I decided to make her one with which she could do whatever she pleases. It’s spiffy. The only problem is that when the clay dried, it pulled at the contact points and cracked it. She loves it, so what do I care?

• Why we're thrilled our neighbors are getting evicted:
  
  
  
  Anyone who would leave their dog outside with a slip knot nylon rope as a leash and shake their fist at the poor thing when it barks too much deserves to get their ass thrown out on the street. ‘Nuff said.

• Today we went to the zoo. There was a Dr. Zoolittle show where they talked about eating bugs. They even got volunteers up to eat them and we all laughed when a toddler shoved it into her mouth the second it was placed in her hand. Lily saw what was going on and immediately started to cry that she was hungry.
  “It’s a bug, Lily.”
  “Want some!”
  And then Dr. Zoolittle said, “Thanks for joining us today, if you’d like to try a bug, come on up!” And Lily went running.
  So she got one.
  And she ate it.
  And when I asked her how it was she said, “MORE!”
  
  One heck of a day.

The muse, she can be one heck of a bitch

When I was a little girl I'd crawl under the covers at night with a stolen flashlight and a library book to read quickly and hungrily, hoping against hope that I wouldn't be discovered. My brother, asleep in the bed across the room was all about music, but I was all words. My parents must have known what I was up to, but they turned a blind eye to my little habit, fostering in me a love for books and stories and the landscape of fiction as it played across my impressionable mind. I devoured books through High School, becoming the Editor in Chief of the monthly school newspaper and living words, layout and action shots. In college I stalked the halls of the Humanities building, reading everything I could find, sitting through lectures on poetry, short story, long fictions, art. I learned so much, it suffocated me a little bit. When I finally graduated with a degree in Creative Writing and a minor in Women's Studies I was so thick with thought and literary rules I couldn't read anything serious for years. And I couldn't write at all. I still managed to read, but it was magazines, popular fluff novels, the occasional short story; nothing that inspired my inner artist; she was just too tired, too slammed by the responsibility of writing well.

Now that I have children, the time I have to read is even more limited. I've been struggling through Wicked reading only a few pages at a time, caught up in the story but continuously interrupted by my nursling who is wild with discomfort now that her teeth are coming in, or distracted by my toddler as she turns summersaults in the hallways. In some ways, I am still on a reading diet: small sips and tiny bites. But lately, I am gluttonous for more. I want to loose myself in the Time Traveler's journey or sink into the life of those suitors of the Little Chinese Seamstress or even run wild on the mountains that Prodigal Summer.

And I'm getting my fill. My secret is simple (and I'm happy to share!): my local library and audio books. These days, I listen in the car while we go from here to there or while sitting in a shady spot, both girls asleep in their seats. I itch to go anywhere, just so I can be taken across the sea or learn more about why American needs a major overhaul. I am falling in love with Barbara Kingsolver and am intently studying her voice: fluid and gentle and like someone I would love to sit and talk to while we work a garden plot. I am finding that there is so much more I need to know and am once again hungry to swallow the words that fill me with action, hope and passion. I am writing again, tenderly getting my feet wet here and on Mama Says Om. I am not creating more than I did in college, but what I am creating is infinitely more interesting and speaks to my own heart.

It's a lot like falling in love again. I just have to hope we never suffer another lover's spat.

MELA says...

Mark: 1am trips to comfort Lily
Elaine: Sore throat
Lily: Gross stuff in the potty
Anya: Evil teeth from hell
All: NO SLEEP FOR THE WEARY

Just waiting until the world looks like this again:

Parenting is like that

After this tirade on the evils of teeth (and a new poop story, this one not so cute), Anya gave me an early Valentine’s present and slept for six hours straight. And here’s the kicker: she did it while I was also sleeping. Of course, I was woken by Lily crying for Daddy about half way through that six hours, but hey at least the baby slept! Weeee!

Now she’s got the teething snots and drooling freak show we all know and love, so my bets are that the evil and decidedly British teeth will make an appearance with in the next few day. Anyone wanna place a wager as to when exactly?

We Kiss

We kiss kiss kiss
in this family
holding each others hearts
and hands
and wetly
loudly
passionately
showing our love for each
and every one of the people
that form our happy mess

We kiss at transitions
We kiss as a welcome
We kiss as we play
We kiss to heal a tiny owie
We kiss kiss kiss
because we can’t help but love
these crazy people we call
family

written for Mommybloggers Valentine's Day Rumble

Teeth are evil AND a brand new poop story!

Anya hasn’t slept for more than an hour for three freaking days. Seriously. SERIOUSLY! She has spent the last handful of nights crying out, arching her back, wiggling and crying loudly (something she never does, btw) all night long. She’ll even sit up, spit out the binky, yell at me until I insert said binky into screaming maw, and then fall over comically, dead asleep. I say comically, but I’m afraid I’m not actually chuckling here. I’m too tired to even snort.

You know who I have to blame?

TEETH!

The two top front ones are messing with her. “HI! Can we come out and look around?” they seem to ask cheerfully (and for some reason, I imagine them speaking in a British accent). “Oh, hold on chap, I’ve forgotten my handbag!” and then they go gallivanting around in the gums for a bit. “Here it is! Now shall we go out?” “Sure thing, mate! Just let me fetch my coat!” I keep finding them right at the edge of the gum and then POOF they retreat. GAH!

So yeah, she’s miserable and I’m exhausted.

This morning, I stumbled upstairs with Anya in hand and, with my face still all smooshed from half sleep, shoved a wiggling baby into his arms. He’s been sleeping with Lily, so he’s getting more sleep on average than little ol’ me. He dutifully accepted that he’d get a late start for working today and let me go back to bed for about and hour and a half of rest. He’s so good to me that when the following occurred he didn’t even come wake me up. Want to know what happened? It’s really good. Seriously!

So he’s sitting on the toilet, like he does every morning, when he shifts his weight and his cell phone falls out of his hoodie pocket, slips through his legs and lands in the poop filled toilet. HUZZAH! He now knows that he will reach into a toilet full of crap for a cell phone. He also knows that it was a good idea to pay for the insurance that will replace your phone for $50 if you do something that stupid. Because let’s face it, even if it does work again, would you want to talk into it?

Classical or Rock n Roll?

Sleep walking

Last night after Lily had gone to bed I heard crying and headed over to her room to investigate. Through the glass I saw her standing in the bathroom near her potty and as I came through the door she started screaming as though, instead of her mother, a horrid beast bent on eating her was coming in. I had been going on the assumption that she "missed" the potty and was deeply unhappy about that fact until I saw the abject terror in her eyes. Scooping her up in my arms I noticed she was completely dry and after softly whispering her name in her ear a couple of times I saw a look of recognition pass over her eyes and she calmed down.

"What happened?" I asked.
She popped her thumb in her mouth and reached for my ear. I waited for her to answer but she just couldn't. She seemed to be searching for the words, but couldn't get a grasp on the whole thing. I helped her get onto the potty and waited for her body to relax enough to pee. By the time she was done I was pretty sure I knew what happened.

"You woke up and you were standing in the bathroom."
"Yeah."
"And you got scared because you weren't in your bed and you didn't know where you were right away."
Nodding now, big wide eyes.
"And then the door opened and you didn't know it was Mommy."
"I cry."
"Yep. But you're OK now. Mommy is here and you're safe and you even got to go potty." I saw that last bit like it's a special treat... hey, I'm tired too.
"Yeah." She sucked her thumb some more and twiddled my ear lazily. I carried her back to bed. "I happy now" she informs me. I only wish I could get over stuff as quickly.
"You are?"
Another nod, this time with sleepy eyes. Within a few moments she was back in the land of nod.

Mark slept in her room that night, just in case she had any other unscheduled trips. My hope is that it doesn't happen again, although right now I am listening to her chatter in her room. She went to bed over an hour ago, so who knows if what I'm hearing is sleep talking or if she's still awake. She got a very late nap today, so it could easily be that later. Keep your fingers are crossed that this doesn't become a nightly event. I'm all for drama, I just prefer the type performed on stage.

Self Portrait Tuesday -- All of Me # 1

Wrapped around my daughter’s sippy cup as I clean up after a day of girls running wild and a steadily growing mess I will never gain control over, I can’t help but consider my hands as I carry things too and from the kitchen. I sucked my thumb until I was seven years old and when I finally quit, I transferred this urgent need for a habit to my fingernails. I have picked, bit and destroyed them for 23 years. There was a brief respite when I returned home from a semester in England. I just didn’t need to do that anymore; that is, until next semesters finals when I gave in to the nervous habit that always hits hard when I am under stress.

And yet, I have always tried to honor this part of me, accepting that it is a weakness that I have not yet overcome. When Mark and I married, we did a hand ceremony, clasping hands and acknowledging what our hands would do for each other through the years of our marriage. Recognizing them for the care they would give, the fights they would emphasize, the babies they would cradle. No matter how much I hate the habit, I have to love the hands. No matter how ugly, they are part of me. And they have always kept me solidly on the ground, feet planted in the muddy soil. I’d never try to be who I’m not with these hands dangling at the end of my arms.

Sometimes I try to hide them or avoid catching the nails in a photo; it’s not always easy to stare a failure straight on. But for the most part, I have come to love my hands and see them as a part of me I cannot deny. I am, after all, not so very perfect. And that’s ok with me.


You can find other self portrait bloggers here.

Swing/Clap/Play

Don't bother to adjust your volume, there isn't any!

Random Saturday

Me: What are you doing? Did you turn up the heat?
Mark: Yeah, it’s cold in here.
Me: So in the house, you’re too hot and want all the doors open but in the car, it’s too cold?
Mark: Yeah.
Me: You are such a girl.


Giving thanks that there are no bunnies in my hair conditioner. You really do have to check labels, I guess. Of course, it mentions nothing about rocket ships, or buffalo wings.


"This is Saturn. See the beautiful rings? They are so spicy and delicious. I love buffalo rings."


We went hiking today in an area that recently suffered fires. Sometimes I forget that we live in a desert, but the landscape today was a welcome reminder. We saw a pair of coyote sisters hunting on one of the ridgelines and watched transfixed as they leapt about and caught some dinner (at least I hope they caught some!). We were surprised by dozens of caterpillars as they raced across trails and roads, heading who knows where. I had no idea they could move so fast! Lily was simultaneously frightened and fascinated by a bridge. It was a nice hike. Click on the photo to see a couple shots from our local desert.

Today...

...Lily taught Anya how to clap.

It is the cutest thing in the whole wide world.

End of story.

Alter Ego

When Lily is acting up or not listening to me, I often call her Lillabeth. It’s somehow easier to sound stern and commanding when exclaiming, “Lillabeth, get your tiny monkey butt over here this instant” than when I say, “Lily, sweetie, come here before Mommy pops your head off your shoulders and starts bellowing like a howler monkey.” Both have their levels of effectiveness and both include a well placed monkey reference, but somehow, I feel more like “stern mom” when I use the name Lillabeth. Mind you, her name is not actually Lillabeth. Those of you in the know are aware that her name isn’t actually Lily either, it’s just what we call her most of the time*. This Wannabe Hippie, she is an enigma, no?

In any event, at my moms house the other day Lil was acting like a howler monkey and so I hooked my legs around her as she ran by (I was sitting, I’m not that cool) and dragged her into my lap, softly intoning, “Lil-leeee” in an attempt to settle her down. You can imagine my surprise when she clambered up to face me, put her pudgy little hands on my checks and informed me, “I’m not Lily. I’m Lillabeth!” and then flung herself off my lap and started doing summersaults.

Edited to add: Lily is what we call her, but it's not her legal name (and most people can't figure out how we got "Lily" from her legal name). But "Lily" is what I holler when I'm trying to keep her from running into traffic. Is everyone OK now? Didn't mean to cause such trouble...

Loving my girls

Kiss and Smack

Kiss: take out the trash
Smack: don’t reline the can with a new bag
Kiss: take down the holiday lights
Smack: except for one strand, left hanging down the wall… going on a week
Kiss: clean up the kitchen
Smack: leave at least one dirty dish sitting in the middle of the counter top
Kiss: put Lily to bed
Smack: forget to brush her teeth
Kiss: install a new shower head
Smack: fail to attach the ring plate… for two years
Kiss: change the baby into a night time diaper
Smack: but forget to put a cover over the cloth diaper
Kiss: Play with Lily and Anya on the deck
Smack: forget to put the gate up at the top of the stairs and allow Anya to crawl dangerously close
Kiss: tell me you love that I’m not into shopping and spending
Smack: make fun of my hand-me-down nursing nightgown
Kiss: tell me you love me
Kiss: tell me you would be lost without me
Kiss: tell me I’m an amazing mom
Kiss: catch your breath and kiss kiss kiss me...

8 months old

Dear Anya,
You spent about one week being happy that you could crawl, joyously roaming around the house and throwing yourself down stairs. You lulled me into a false sense of detachment, allowing me all this time to sit without someone in my lap and make dinner with both arms! Then you noticed that your sister, who had been crawling along with you to show you how to do it, was a freaking biped! And what the heck are you doing on all fours when you could be walking! Back to the unhappiness. Now you drag yourself around the house, crying because your pants are getting dirty (I’m just guessing here) pulling up and standing whenever you can find a stationary object. A couple of times you’ve tried using the dog as a stationary object, which has afforded you a nice collection of bonks. Silly baby. I’m guessing you’re trying to beat your sisters record of walking at 10 months. I swear, I’m gonna have to knock you down if you give up crawling too soon. Cross crawling is vital to brain development and what good is it to be able to walk if you’re too stupid to not walk into oncoming traffic? Wiser words have not been spoken my friend, so shut up and crawl, dammit.

We’ve all had colds in the last week and you’re expecting some new teeth. The snot is impressive but the drool is amazing. The speed at which you can soak a shirt is stunning; I’ve decided you are gifted and have been combing the internet looking for competitions and professional training. We’ll get some money outta this somehow, kido; you can count on me.

The strangest thing this month has given me may be indicative of my impending insanity. I like to call it the phantom baby syndrome. Take today for instance: you finally fell asleep after struggling against me for well over an hour. I waited until you were solidly out and then popped you into the crib just before I had to run into Lily’s room. She was waking up from her nap and was none to happy about it. When we got back to where you were sleeping you’d woken and, just like your sister, this pissed you off. So I gathered you in my arms and sat down to cuddle you back to sleep. Easily distracted by your sis, I managed to forget you were in my arms and looked over to the crib, shocked that you weren’t there. It wasn’t until I tried to stand up to look for you that I realized you were in my arms, fast asleep. I keep expecting you to be one place and finding you right here, in my arms with the shadow of sleep across your face and your gentle breath touching my skin.

Your sister is so wildly independent I often feel like I have already lost her. This phantom baby must be a way to emotionally prepare myself for your separation from me. But I can’t believe you still prefer my arms. I am so enamored of your face, little girl. I want you to be independent like your sister, but I also want you to need me, just a little. And I know I’ll get that. Heck, even Lily has been coming up to me lately, tugging on my sleeve and solemnly claiming, “I want mommy.” She’s allowing me to gather her up in my arms (which are so much stronger now that I have carried a child or two on my hip for two and a half years) and will lean her curly damp head against my shoulder and love on me.

And how can that not make me feel like the luckiest person on the planet? You girls have changed me and for that, I thank you. Hell, you’ve saved me from being a shallow, boring, selfish person. I just couldn’t imagine life without your smile. Thanks for being here.

Love you bunches,
Mama

Speaking of...

I got caught up in a fire theme and made a series of postcards with pastels for the upcoming swap. I learned a valuable lesson about fixative: too much puts a funky coat on your work. Weeee! Good times, this whole learning as you go stuff.

Speaking of fire, does anyone know if it would be a bad idea to use a vacuum to clean out your fire place? Part of me wants it to work as it would be so easy but another part of me is fairly certain it would end up being a disaster. Anyone have a clue? And don’t you all hold out on me just to see what would happen and if I’m idiot enough to do it. Because we all know I’m idiot enough to do it.

Speaking of idiot enough, did I tell you that I’m trying to learn to knit? I have a very ugly bit of kitting I did MYSELF! It has holes and is all funky looking and I started out with like 20 stitches and at one point had over 40, so I thought I’d try to reduce them by stitching through two loops at a time and it actually doesn’t look too bad. I’m getting the hang of it and since I don’t know how to stop, I think I’ll just keep going until I feel like a pro.

Speaking of pros, my brother-in-law is going to be running for State Assembly and he's totally not a con (I love a stupid pun). KICK ASS, I say. I’ll likely end up working for his campaign. He’s the kind of person you want in politics. OK, he’s the kind of guy I want in politics, anyway.

Speaking of politics, I’m getting kinda annoyed at the world and their idiotic stance at ecological conservation. This is largely the fault of Barbara Kingsolver and her book Small Wonder. She lays out such simple truths about how stupid we are as a nation that I’m not only embarrassed to be an American even more now, but I want to start yelling at people in power to DO SOMETHING! NOW!

Speaking of yelling at people in power, we’re going to dinner with my sister and her husband who is… dude, if you don’t know, you’re not paying attention. He may not have power yet, but if he gets elected, I’m gonna be all up in his grill on crunchy granola issues. But I love him, so I’ll be nice about it.

Speaking of… never mind, it’s time for dinner! BYE INTERNET! BE GOOD!

who'd a thunk it?

Just now, found out I was interesting... eight months ago, anyway. Scroll down about half way to see what I'm talking about.

And when did interestingness become a word?

Stuck

After our weekly Chiropractic appointment this morning, Lily really wanted to ride the old elevator (or elegator, if you ask her) down the three flights to the parking lot. It’s an old thing, rarely works and I was surprised by her request since only last week she was afraid of the darn thing. Something told me to take the stairs, but the sparkle in her eyes was just too much for me and so I let her press the button and we climbed inside.

Floor 3
Floor 2
Floor 1

Doors should open now.


Anytime would be great.


“Mommy, I want the doors to open now.”
“Me too, honey, but I think we’re going to have to wait.” I said in a falsely positive and cheery voice. I took a look at the yellow Emergency Alarm button and thought better of it. A loud blaring alarm would not assure Lily that everything would be fine and the baby hates noise above all things. With cheerful voice still at the ready, I grabbed my cell and called my chiropractors office. “Hi Catherine, its Elaine. So yeah, we’re stuck in the elevator. Could someone come free us?” She started spewing apologies and made a break for the building guy.

We danced and sang and told stories cheerfully to distract as the elevator went to the fourth floor, and then the second, back to the third, power went out completely, back to the first and stopped again. I took stock: cup of snacks for Lily, extra diapers in bag, boobs full of milk for the baby, heart rate fast but not in a full panic, now if only I didn’t have to go to the bathroom! Weeeee! We sat on the floor and Lily pointed out how you could see our reflection in the door and in the ceiling, “I see you!”

I thought to myself that at least now I’d have something interesting to blog. It was during this thought that the doors finally opened and Dr. Joe stepped into the door way to make sure we got out before they closed again. Apparently he had been trying to open the thing using brute force, but had only got the outer doors to budge a bit. Then he resorted to doing sprints up and door the stairs, chasing our wayward elevator in its random travels, trying to get it to open every time it paused.

Our total time stuck was only about ten minutes. And I managed not to act like an idiot or freak my children out. Will we be riding that thing again? Ah, no. Thank you very much.

Morning

This morning I took the girls and my cup of Throat Coat Tea out onto the deck to let the girls play in the sun. We’re all sick and I have this odd belief that sunshine makes you better. Anya is so eager to walk, insisting always on standing, crawling only when there is no person or thing to help her balance. It was a beautiful morning, so warm and with a light breeze ruffling my mop top hair, crazy from the lack of a shower this morning. Lily blew bubbles and both girls got filthy on the unwashed deck. I am so tired these days. Mark has been sleeping with Lily after her latest midnight vomit-fest and Anya can’t sleep without thrashing herself all around the bed, practically turning summersaults in her dream state efforts to escape the pain in her mouth. I can’t wait for these freaking teeth to make their appearance. Maybe then I can rest.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Wannabe Hippie!

1. Wannabe Hippie can only be destroyed by intense heat, and is impermeable even to acid!
2. It takes a lobster approximately 7 years to grow to be Wannabe Hippie.
3. The first toy product ever advertised on television was Mr Wannabe Hippie Head.
4. White chocolate isn't technically chocolate, because it doesn't contain Wannabe Hippie.
5. The average duration of sexual intercourse for Wannabe Hippie is two minutes.
6. The risk of being struck by Wannabe Hippie is one occurence every 9,300 years.
7. The porpoise is second to Wannabe Hippie as the most intelligent animal on the planet.
8. The fingerprints of Wannabe Hippie are virtually indistinguishable from those of humans, so much so that they could be confused at a crime scene.
9. Wannabe Hippie has three eyelids.
10. Medieval knights put the skin of Wannabe Hippie on their sword handles to improve the grip!


Thanks to Rude Cactus for the inspiration. And #5 is so not true; I can get it done in 30 to 90 seconds, tops. But #9... I don't know how they knew that. Seriously spooky.

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

Selling it

We have some kick as new merchandise over at the Mama Says Om Store. Click the link to see more of the goods, modeled here by me and the girls.

Poetry Monday #4

Haiku

Cramp! Cramp in my leg
Oh why did I hike to the
mailbox on Sunday?

perfect

My husband is finally home. He doesn’t have another gig out of town until late next month and for that, we go with him. Afterwards, who knows? Maybe no more gigs away from his family. Maybe more than I care to acknowledge. Right now we are flush with touch, smile, support, and comfort, my twin spirit wrapping his strong arms around my big girl or cradling the tiny one off to sleep.

This morning a trip to the beach gave us the opportunity to hunt for treasures from the sea, build sand castles, and watch Maya romp in the channel or chase dogs in the waves. Anya crawling across the sand to chase an errant mother who had run off to take pictures and giggle with Lily at the waters edge. Sand everywhere, down the babies onsie, framing her eyelashes, shoved into her mouth with her own gritty hand. Lily dancing around excitedly in her parrot costume, shrieking with delight at all the dogs tumbling over each other and digging her toes into soft, moist sand, warm at the top layer but cool underneath.

Now I sit and type while Mark and Lily nap. Anya is chatting to and waving a sock around, happy after her own short nap. We both breathe in the smell of wet dog at my feet, salty and dank, sweet and pungent. We have no plans for the rest of the weekend but to be together; the sweetest schedule I could ever hope to keep.