Now that Miss Lu is sitting up by herself, playtime is getting much more fun! She will sit for hours on the floor, completely absorbed in her toys and the magic of gravity. It's amazing how the simplest toys are the ones she gets the most joy out of. We have a set of eight "stacking cups" that nestle into each other, but for some reason that tidy little pyramid of organization is intolerable to the 8-month-old mind. Lu takes one look at the neatly-stacked set and, very deliberately (and in one swift motion), lifts them off one or two at a time and throws them aside. And then moves on to something else, until she notices that you have re-stacked them... and then she methodically destroys the stack again.
We went to see the new Star Wars movie over the weekend (thumbs up!). The instant Yoda appeared on screen, though, I thought "WELL! We know what Lucy's going to be for Halloween!" I heard Joel snickering, so I leaned over and he whispered "It's Lucy!" Great minds... Unfortunately I spent the next 10 minutes trying to figure out what I was going to make the ears out of and I missed some plot points. But the movie was still good.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Thursday, May 19, 2005
The Baby!
Criminy, you know what? She is not such a baby anymore. The second bottom tooth came in earlier in the week... she's learning how to scoot herself backward on her hands and knees (and we look away for 15 seconds and HOW did she get under the couch?!?)... she's talking up a storm (I SWEAR she looked at Hobo yesterday morning and said "dog!")... it's going too too fast. Thank you Gramps & Gram Ryan for her new "cell phone" -- it is her favorite toy right now and her whole face lights up when "it's for you, LuLu!".
Yesterday evening she wore 1/2 a Cheerio as a mustache for about 15 minutes. Riotous.
Yesterday evening she wore 1/2 a Cheerio as a mustache for about 15 minutes. Riotous.
Sorry!
I am so sorry it has been SO LONG since I posted... I never actually know if anybody is reading these or not, since Alison is my only regular commenter (THANK YOU AL!), but if you have been checking, and you have been bored to tears by my lack of entries, just know that I was out of town over the weekend and I have been on JURY DUTY all week (I feel the need to CAPITALIZE JURY DUTY because if I was speaking it, I would certainly do so in that extra-loud, semi-incredulous, overly-dramatic faux-Seinfeldesque way I have) and therefore incommunicado.
I feel like "incommunicado" might be one of those things that isn't really a word or means the opposite of what I want it to, but people use it anyway to sound cool and nobody really knows for sure what the right word is in the first place. (If you know what the right word is, please comment and put me out of my misery.) I can think of a couple other words that are sort of like that... "empathy/sympathy," "flammable/inflammable," and "nonplussed."
I had an AWESOME reunion with some high school friends in Chicago* over the weekend. I hadn't seen Nick in about 5 years, and I hadn't talked to Estelle in close to 11 years, and it was amazing just to pick right back up with them. Golly, they are hilarious. It was amazing to reconnect with them and hit it off so well.
*I can say this because we did actually go within the Chicago city limits. I have started referring to where I grew up as "Illinois" instead of "Chicago" since I never actually lived within the city limits and I started feeling like it was kind of misleading to say I'm "from Chicago." And for a while I thought I was cooler than other Minnesotans for being "from Chicago," which was, in retrospect, obviously my bad, and plus I got tired of having to retract my Chicagoness when people would ask if I actually lived in the city when the closest my address ever got was Skokie.
I feel like "incommunicado" might be one of those things that isn't really a word or means the opposite of what I want it to, but people use it anyway to sound cool and nobody really knows for sure what the right word is in the first place. (If you know what the right word is, please comment and put me out of my misery.) I can think of a couple other words that are sort of like that... "empathy/sympathy," "flammable/inflammable," and "nonplussed."
I had an AWESOME reunion with some high school friends in Chicago* over the weekend. I hadn't seen Nick in about 5 years, and I hadn't talked to Estelle in close to 11 years, and it was amazing just to pick right back up with them. Golly, they are hilarious. It was amazing to reconnect with them and hit it off so well.
*I can say this because we did actually go within the Chicago city limits. I have started referring to where I grew up as "Illinois" instead of "Chicago" since I never actually lived within the city limits and I started feeling like it was kind of misleading to say I'm "from Chicago." And for a while I thought I was cooler than other Minnesotans for being "from Chicago," which was, in retrospect, obviously my bad, and plus I got tired of having to retract my Chicagoness when people would ask if I actually lived in the city when the closest my address ever got was Skokie.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Poetrism
OK, listen up people, I do NOT write poetry, as a rule. But I wrote this a while ago, and I just found it, and I really like it so I wanted to share it.
Frosted Donettes
by Meg Gronau
I cannot think of a snack less lovely
Fake plastic frosting
Hardly passes for chocolate
Fake yellow cake
A half-step up from the kitchen sponge
My husband uses to wash the dishes
While I am at practice
Or book club
Or working late
Or shopping
He bought me a package of Frosted Donettes
Printed “August 08” – is that the 8th day of August
Or August 2008? I wonder
He says he was thinking of me
I cannot think of a snack more lovely
Frosted Donettes
by Meg Gronau
I cannot think of a snack less lovely
Fake plastic frosting
Hardly passes for chocolate
Fake yellow cake
A half-step up from the kitchen sponge
My husband uses to wash the dishes
While I am at practice
Or book club
Or working late
Or shopping
He bought me a package of Frosted Donettes
Printed “August 08” – is that the 8th day of August
Or August 2008? I wonder
He says he was thinking of me
I cannot think of a snack more lovely
Monday, May 09, 2005
Zzzzz...
I forgot my "mothers milk" tea (which purportedly will increase your milk supply) at home so I'm drinking "cozy chamomile" hoping it will work as a placebo. The label says it's "so delicate and soothing." It's Monday morning, though, so I'm pretty sure if I get soothed any more, I'll drift off to sleep.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Chinese Jumprope
One day not long ago in the cosmic sense of things, but quite a long time ago in the life of someone who’s under 30, “on” was born.
The day of the week, the time of year, and the geographic location are all irrelevant, though it was probably in Winona, Minnesota, which I have long claimed is some kind of Nexus of the universe, or is it a Lexus of the universe? Well, Winona is certainly not a Lexus of anything, except maybe of smallish cities in the southeast corner of Minnesota. Yes, Winona may actually BE the Lexus of that.
Winona, Minn. is kind of like that “center of gravity” attraction at Knott’s Berry Farm where it’s a house you walk through, and because the walls and floors are tilted funny, they can do optical illusions where you sit on a chair balanced on a wall, or tall people look short and whatnot. Winona is, or was when I lived there, this small little jewel box of buzzing activity and mountains nestled in a prairie state, where it’s safe to walk yourself home from a bar at 2 AM and where phone numbers only have 5 digits. Special things, crazy things, magic things happened there. Including the birth of “on.”
If you’ve ever been in a social situation where suddenly you’re the funniest cat in the room, you’ve been “on.” You feel a little giddy, like you just took a DayQuil, and everything that comes out of your mouth is gold, Jerry, comedy gold. Unless you happen to drool on yourself, though when you’re “on” even a little drool can’t quell your imminent popularity.
The cosmic reverse of “on,” is called, believe it or not, “off.” “Off” can bring down a whole party, and the worst part is, it’s contagious! First one joke falls flat, then the awkward silences start piling up, and suddenly you’re driving home before dessert even started, wondering why you ever thought you were friends with these people in the first place and considering deleting their numbers from your cell phone.
Oh, right, this blog is supposed to be about the baby, right?
Babybabybaby. There.
The day of the week, the time of year, and the geographic location are all irrelevant, though it was probably in Winona, Minnesota, which I have long claimed is some kind of Nexus of the universe, or is it a Lexus of the universe? Well, Winona is certainly not a Lexus of anything, except maybe of smallish cities in the southeast corner of Minnesota. Yes, Winona may actually BE the Lexus of that.
Winona, Minn. is kind of like that “center of gravity” attraction at Knott’s Berry Farm where it’s a house you walk through, and because the walls and floors are tilted funny, they can do optical illusions where you sit on a chair balanced on a wall, or tall people look short and whatnot. Winona is, or was when I lived there, this small little jewel box of buzzing activity and mountains nestled in a prairie state, where it’s safe to walk yourself home from a bar at 2 AM and where phone numbers only have 5 digits. Special things, crazy things, magic things happened there. Including the birth of “on.”
If you’ve ever been in a social situation where suddenly you’re the funniest cat in the room, you’ve been “on.” You feel a little giddy, like you just took a DayQuil, and everything that comes out of your mouth is gold, Jerry, comedy gold. Unless you happen to drool on yourself, though when you’re “on” even a little drool can’t quell your imminent popularity.
The cosmic reverse of “on,” is called, believe it or not, “off.” “Off” can bring down a whole party, and the worst part is, it’s contagious! First one joke falls flat, then the awkward silences start piling up, and suddenly you’re driving home before dessert even started, wondering why you ever thought you were friends with these people in the first place and considering deleting their numbers from your cell phone.
Oh, right, this blog is supposed to be about the baby, right?
Babybabybaby. There.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Quote for the Day
I'm reading Lorna Landvik's Patty Jane's House of Curl and one of the characters says this, and it was really good for me to read today:
"Is it every man and woman's curse to want it all and only get ten percent of it? Or do we ask too much? Are we too selfish to see the beauty of our every days, to revel in our every hours, blinded as we are by what everybody else has?"
Count your blessings, peeps. Life is short.
On a completely different note, I have adjusted my time zone settings THREE TIMES and they are never right. I feel like I'm posting from Madagascar.
"Is it every man and woman's curse to want it all and only get ten percent of it? Or do we ask too much? Are we too selfish to see the beauty of our every days, to revel in our every hours, blinded as we are by what everybody else has?"
Count your blessings, peeps. Life is short.
On a completely different note, I have adjusted my time zone settings THREE TIMES and they are never right. I feel like I'm posting from Madagascar.
It's Not a Bruise, It's a Contusion!
Hi gang.
Guess who grew a tooth yesterday! And on her 8-month birthday too. It's the COOLEST!
"Where is it?"
In her mouth, people.
Just kidding. Bottom right. Her right. Which is your left, if you're facing her and sticking your finger in her mouth.
Guess who grew a tooth yesterday! And on her 8-month birthday too. It's the COOLEST!
"Where is it?"
In her mouth, people.
Just kidding. Bottom right. Her right. Which is your left, if you're facing her and sticking your finger in her mouth.
Monday, May 02, 2005
One Year Ago
This post was originally going to be titled "Eight Months Ago" since it's Lucy's 8-month birthday today. (Can you even believe it? The months are whizzing by my head, like softballs thrown by Upper Competitive League girls against whom I have no business playing. But I do.)
But I have nothing interesting to say about Lucy being 8 months old, and i found this little ditty I wrote a year ago when Joel and I were driving to Chicago for the weekend. Or something.
OK, so it's not quite been a year since I wrote this. But I just found it! And I kind of like it, though like everything else I write, it's unfinished. Here goes:
May 21, 2004
8:19 PM
Just east of Mauston, WI
25.5 weeks pregnant
I told myself I was going to start writing. I tell myself this several times a year, though this is the first writing I’ve done in about 12 months. As they say, starting is the hardest part.
Occasionally, I find myself feeling retrospective about pregnancy and parenting. Though I don’t see how I can be “retro” anything about something I am in the middle of experiencing, or, respectively, something I haven’t even started to experience.
Which is interesting. My sister called me on Mothers’ Day this year. My own mother refused to wish me a happy Mom’s Day, saying I didn’t quite qualify … whereas Jean maintained that I am the only one caring for this kid right now. Which is true, I guess. And really, how can you argue that parenting begins only at birth? From the moment you see those two pink lines on the HPT, you are changed forever. You are instantly protective of your middle region, shying away from balancing laundry baskets on your hipbones (if you are lucky enough to still have hipbones when you discover you are pregnant), instantly eschewing the “sucking in your stomach” reflex of every American woman over the age of 14. The first three months of pregnancy are a quick primer on some of the perils of parenting. Your body is the vessel in which another body is growing, and yet you have no control of how it will go. The risk of miscarriage is so great in the very beginning … and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s a terrifying and beautiful juxtaposition. Some of my friends who have young children tell me how they have to start “letting go” of their little munchkins bit by bit. First, they learn to walk without holding your hand, and the next thing you know they’re paying their own car insurance. But the truth is that the letting go begins right away. All you can do is do your best.
Many of us are control freaks. We were probably the first generation of American women who were raised to believe that we could be whatever we wanted to be when we grew up. And unfortunately, we extrapolate that to mean that we can control every bit of our lives. But you know what? Things go wrong. Cars break down, gutters need replacing. Perfectly good husbands get crabby.
But I have nothing interesting to say about Lucy being 8 months old, and i found this little ditty I wrote a year ago when Joel and I were driving to Chicago for the weekend. Or something.
OK, so it's not quite been a year since I wrote this. But I just found it! And I kind of like it, though like everything else I write, it's unfinished. Here goes:
May 21, 2004
8:19 PM
Just east of Mauston, WI
25.5 weeks pregnant
I told myself I was going to start writing. I tell myself this several times a year, though this is the first writing I’ve done in about 12 months. As they say, starting is the hardest part.
Occasionally, I find myself feeling retrospective about pregnancy and parenting. Though I don’t see how I can be “retro” anything about something I am in the middle of experiencing, or, respectively, something I haven’t even started to experience.
Which is interesting. My sister called me on Mothers’ Day this year. My own mother refused to wish me a happy Mom’s Day, saying I didn’t quite qualify … whereas Jean maintained that I am the only one caring for this kid right now. Which is true, I guess. And really, how can you argue that parenting begins only at birth? From the moment you see those two pink lines on the HPT, you are changed forever. You are instantly protective of your middle region, shying away from balancing laundry baskets on your hipbones (if you are lucky enough to still have hipbones when you discover you are pregnant), instantly eschewing the “sucking in your stomach” reflex of every American woman over the age of 14. The first three months of pregnancy are a quick primer on some of the perils of parenting. Your body is the vessel in which another body is growing, and yet you have no control of how it will go. The risk of miscarriage is so great in the very beginning … and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s a terrifying and beautiful juxtaposition. Some of my friends who have young children tell me how they have to start “letting go” of their little munchkins bit by bit. First, they learn to walk without holding your hand, and the next thing you know they’re paying their own car insurance. But the truth is that the letting go begins right away. All you can do is do your best.
Many of us are control freaks. We were probably the first generation of American women who were raised to believe that we could be whatever we wanted to be when we grew up. And unfortunately, we extrapolate that to mean that we can control every bit of our lives. But you know what? Things go wrong. Cars break down, gutters need replacing. Perfectly good husbands get crabby.
Monday, April 25, 2005
New funny thing she does!
We're feeding Lucy dinner last night: oatmeal, carrots and peaches, I think. She's ravenous, since she refused to eat much of her previous two bottles of milk. Which means that I have exactly three seconds from the time I deposit one spoonful of glop into her mouth, until the next spoonful arrives lipside, before she starts to squawk.
Now, she's always been good about opening her mouth for the spoon. But last night she started, in Joel's words, "taking it to the next level" by kind of, well, trying to open her mouth sideways as well. Urgh! It's so hard to describe. So here's an exercise:
Open your mouth wide (as you would if someone were spoon-feeding you).
Pull the muscles of your lower lip sideways, kind of large-mouth bass-like.
That's what she was doing. I'm not sure if she thought she could get more food that way, or what, but it was soooo funny.
Now, she's always been good about opening her mouth for the spoon. But last night she started, in Joel's words, "taking it to the next level" by kind of, well, trying to open her mouth sideways as well. Urgh! It's so hard to describe. So here's an exercise:
Open your mouth wide (as you would if someone were spoon-feeding you).
Pull the muscles of your lower lip sideways, kind of large-mouth bass-like.
That's what she was doing. I'm not sure if she thought she could get more food that way, or what, but it was soooo funny.
Softbaaallllll!
It was kind of an exhausting weekend at our house. We didn't have any set plans, or even goals in mind (like "re-roof the house" or "paint the bathroom" or "flush the toilet"), and although sometimes this unstructured approach works well, sometimes we just end up waking up Monday morning with sorted piles of dirty laundry and Dorito crumbs between our toes.
One of the toughest parts about spring weekends is the unpredictability of the weather. It could have been 80 and sunny, or it could easily have snowed. Or it could do both, within about three hours. This weekend was kind of sneaky, with the previous week all lovely and warm, and us waking up on Saturday to happy sunshiny... and 35 degrees. Yipes! And Lucy just wasn't herself this weekend -- crying uncontrollably but then refusing to eat... waking up at 4 AM... it just wasn't the same Lucy we've grown to know and REALLY APPRECIATE in the last couple of months. Well, she started the weekend with SIX POOPS on Friday, and it was kind of downhill from there. We think she might be teething or something. Poor hoot. But otherwise she's really an angel. She sat and watched Jean and Joel and I hit softballs at each other on Sunday (only occasionally commenting on our respective swings), and she *did* wolf down anything we tried to feed her that didn't come in a bottle -- go figure.
My good deed for the weekend was taking Hobo and the Watsons' chocolate lab Sonja for a walk on Sunday morning. The first two blocks were the toughest, with Hobo in full-bore pulling mode and Sonja chomping madly on her leash. We did settle into a nice pace, though, until the LAST two blocks when we came upon a ceramic Cocker Spaniel in a neighbor's yard. Holy buckets, for a ceramic dog, she sure whipped Hobo and Sonja into a frenzy. I wound up at the Watsons' front door with one leash around my ankles and my left elbow pinned behind my ear.
So here it is Monday morning and due to the unsettled weather and my aching hips and shins I am wearing the closest thing to pajamas, a decidedly anti-springy black-on-black ensemble guaranteed to make me look as though I've dropped those last 5 pounds of baby weight, which I assure you I most certainly have NOT dropped and I'll thank you not to mention it again.
Softball starts tonight. Can't wait!!
One of the toughest parts about spring weekends is the unpredictability of the weather. It could have been 80 and sunny, or it could easily have snowed. Or it could do both, within about three hours. This weekend was kind of sneaky, with the previous week all lovely and warm, and us waking up on Saturday to happy sunshiny... and 35 degrees. Yipes! And Lucy just wasn't herself this weekend -- crying uncontrollably but then refusing to eat... waking up at 4 AM... it just wasn't the same Lucy we've grown to know and REALLY APPRECIATE in the last couple of months. Well, she started the weekend with SIX POOPS on Friday, and it was kind of downhill from there. We think she might be teething or something. Poor hoot. But otherwise she's really an angel. She sat and watched Jean and Joel and I hit softballs at each other on Sunday (only occasionally commenting on our respective swings), and she *did* wolf down anything we tried to feed her that didn't come in a bottle -- go figure.
My good deed for the weekend was taking Hobo and the Watsons' chocolate lab Sonja for a walk on Sunday morning. The first two blocks were the toughest, with Hobo in full-bore pulling mode and Sonja chomping madly on her leash. We did settle into a nice pace, though, until the LAST two blocks when we came upon a ceramic Cocker Spaniel in a neighbor's yard. Holy buckets, for a ceramic dog, she sure whipped Hobo and Sonja into a frenzy. I wound up at the Watsons' front door with one leash around my ankles and my left elbow pinned behind my ear.
So here it is Monday morning and due to the unsettled weather and my aching hips and shins I am wearing the closest thing to pajamas, a decidedly anti-springy black-on-black ensemble guaranteed to make me look as though I've dropped those last 5 pounds of baby weight, which I assure you I most certainly have NOT dropped and I'll thank you not to mention it again.
Softball starts tonight. Can't wait!!
Friday, April 22, 2005
I wrote this last Friday and never posted it.
...And it hardly seems worth it to post it now. But I'm gonna.
I have The Vapors greatest hits CD in my player at work right now. Who? You ask. You know, the one-hit '80s wonders who gave us the classic "Turning Japanese." Anyway, it's actually a pretty good pop CD! It starts with "Turning Japanese," and features a rousing "Waiting for the Weekend" (perfect for Friday!) and something called "Jimmy Jones" which, with their British accents, sounds like "Jimmy John's" which is a chain sandwich place whose quality products and chipper staff make me very happy.
I have The Vapors greatest hits CD in my player at work right now. Who? You ask. You know, the one-hit '80s wonders who gave us the classic "Turning Japanese." Anyway, it's actually a pretty good pop CD! It starts with "Turning Japanese," and features a rousing "Waiting for the Weekend" (perfect for Friday!) and something called "Jimmy Jones" which, with their British accents, sounds like "Jimmy John's" which is a chain sandwich place whose quality products and chipper staff make me very happy.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
An Exercise In Futility
So Joel's in Atlanta this week on business, giving me the perfect opportunity to prove my Superwomanness. Perfect mom, perfect housekeeper, perfect dog-owner, perfect marketing client service specialist for creative services... I can't wait!
This morning I leap out of bed at 5:23 on the nose, bound and determined to get a fresh start on the day. OK, it was less of a leap and more of a drag, since I'd already hit snooze twice, but ONLY twice and not three times like normal. And I hadn't actually snoozed since the alarm first went off, because Hobo was scratching his freshly-shaven (shaven?) neck and shaking the entire bed in the process. But! Just got to get Lucy and myself dressed in identical pink ensembles and trot out the door!
After deciding TO make coffee (cons: it takes a couple minutes, and there's only me drinking it so it will have to be a very small pot, and I'll have to remember to turn it off ... pros: I NEED COFFEE), and letting Hobo out, and feeding him, and building a bowl of oatmeal with sprinkles for myself, Lucy starts to cry. "Thank goodness," I think, because it means she hasn't smothered in the night, which is always good because it freaks me out a little how she can go from wide-awake at 7:57 PM, to rubbing-her-eyes-with-her-little-fists at 7:59, to placed in her crib at 8:00 and making not a single peep until 5:50 AM. It's just not natural.
So I quick grab the paper from the front walk and then fill up the sink with hot water to wash the dishes with, because I'm Super Mom!! and I let Hobo out again, but there are still some adorable hacking noises coming from the baby's room, so I go in and feed her. These morning feedings are the BEST -- no fussing, no fighting, just businesslike eating. Plus then I don't feel like I have two overstuffed balloons popping out of my chest wall.
It's 6:10 by the time we're done, so I lay Lucy back in her crib (it's still dark in her room, thanks to the quilts we've clipped over the windows because those super-cute dragonfly curtains do NOTHING to ward off sunlight and we haven't had a free moment to purchase proper shades) and turn on her little bubbling musical fishy thing. I hop in the shower, then get dressed and hair-gelled and toothbrushed and I hear the music turning on and off in the crib so I know Lucy hasn't smothered.
"Yo, mom, about this diaper!"
Right! I strip Lucy of her jammies and soggy Pampers and select an outfit that doesn't match mine AT ALL; in fact it barely matches itself, and pry her into it. I haul the exersaucer (her "office") into the kitchen and put Lucy in it, and I realize I have no lunch packed, nor have the dishes washed themselves yet. Strange, and I also have no lipstick on. And it's 6:45, the time I'm supposed to be walking out the door. ARGGH! I cannot imagine how single parents manage. At all.
Anyway, it's Wendy's for lunch for me, and I'm guessing the dishes will still be there when Joel gets back tomorrow. I CAN'T WAIT.
This morning I leap out of bed at 5:23 on the nose, bound and determined to get a fresh start on the day. OK, it was less of a leap and more of a drag, since I'd already hit snooze twice, but ONLY twice and not three times like normal. And I hadn't actually snoozed since the alarm first went off, because Hobo was scratching his freshly-shaven (shaven?) neck and shaking the entire bed in the process. But! Just got to get Lucy and myself dressed in identical pink ensembles and trot out the door!
After deciding TO make coffee (cons: it takes a couple minutes, and there's only me drinking it so it will have to be a very small pot, and I'll have to remember to turn it off ... pros: I NEED COFFEE), and letting Hobo out, and feeding him, and building a bowl of oatmeal with sprinkles for myself, Lucy starts to cry. "Thank goodness," I think, because it means she hasn't smothered in the night, which is always good because it freaks me out a little how she can go from wide-awake at 7:57 PM, to rubbing-her-eyes-with-her-little-fists at 7:59, to placed in her crib at 8:00 and making not a single peep until 5:50 AM. It's just not natural.
So I quick grab the paper from the front walk and then fill up the sink with hot water to wash the dishes with, because I'm Super Mom!! and I let Hobo out again, but there are still some adorable hacking noises coming from the baby's room, so I go in and feed her. These morning feedings are the BEST -- no fussing, no fighting, just businesslike eating. Plus then I don't feel like I have two overstuffed balloons popping out of my chest wall.
It's 6:10 by the time we're done, so I lay Lucy back in her crib (it's still dark in her room, thanks to the quilts we've clipped over the windows because those super-cute dragonfly curtains do NOTHING to ward off sunlight and we haven't had a free moment to purchase proper shades) and turn on her little bubbling musical fishy thing. I hop in the shower, then get dressed and hair-gelled and toothbrushed and I hear the music turning on and off in the crib so I know Lucy hasn't smothered.
"Yo, mom, about this diaper!"
Right! I strip Lucy of her jammies and soggy Pampers and select an outfit that doesn't match mine AT ALL; in fact it barely matches itself, and pry her into it. I haul the exersaucer (her "office") into the kitchen and put Lucy in it, and I realize I have no lunch packed, nor have the dishes washed themselves yet. Strange, and I also have no lipstick on. And it's 6:45, the time I'm supposed to be walking out the door. ARGGH! I cannot imagine how single parents manage. At all.
Anyway, it's Wendy's for lunch for me, and I'm guessing the dishes will still be there when Joel gets back tomorrow. I CAN'T WAIT.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Deceiving the Baby
Well, I guess it starts now and ends with "Really, honey, I WANT to be in a nursing home..." ...the necessary lies we tell our offspring.
Tried to feed Lucy some peas last night. They were delightful peas, really, quite sweet and a palatable shade of green. But she wanted NOTHING of it. I have never really seen her NOT open her mouth for food before, but there she was, determinedly ignoring the spoon poised in front of her adorable little lips. And crying of course, because she could see the box of yummy rice cereal right on the table. So we mixed up a batch of what Joel likes to call "breastmilk cereal" (the phrase has a nice rhythm about it) and then clandestinely spooned the peas into the mixture. And, of course, she gobbled it down in her usual way.
Lucy was, in Joel's words, "up to her elbows in grandparents" over the weekend. My mom and dad came in on Thursday to play day-care on Good Friday, and on Sunday we helped Joel's sister Jamie move into her new townhouse, so Gramps and Gram Gronau got their time in too. It was a fun weekend, and Lucy was a dutiful sweetheart. She even slept through the night last night. YESS!
Tried to feed Lucy some peas last night. They were delightful peas, really, quite sweet and a palatable shade of green. But she wanted NOTHING of it. I have never really seen her NOT open her mouth for food before, but there she was, determinedly ignoring the spoon poised in front of her adorable little lips. And crying of course, because she could see the box of yummy rice cereal right on the table. So we mixed up a batch of what Joel likes to call "breastmilk cereal" (the phrase has a nice rhythm about it) and then clandestinely spooned the peas into the mixture. And, of course, she gobbled it down in her usual way.
Lucy was, in Joel's words, "up to her elbows in grandparents" over the weekend. My mom and dad came in on Thursday to play day-care on Good Friday, and on Sunday we helped Joel's sister Jamie move into her new townhouse, so Gramps and Gram Gronau got their time in too. It was a fun weekend, and Lucy was a dutiful sweetheart. She even slept through the night last night. YESS!
Thursday, March 10, 2005
We just have to do this 12 more times until school starts
Well, we've hit the 6-month mark... 1/12 of the way to 1st grade! Amazing. Joel found a "ticklish spot" on Lucy's tummy the other night -- he *zrbrts* her there and she lets out these pealing giggles. It's awesome.
Had her 6-month checkup yesterday, and here are her vitals:
Head: 16.5" (45th%)
Weight: 16# (50th%)
Height: 26.5" (75th%)
Amazingly, she's showing no ill effects following this round of immunizations. No fever, no crabbies, and she ate and slept just wonderfully last night.
We're really getting to see some wonderful parts of her personality. She's so interested in everything we do now -- last night I was carrying her in one arm and a glass of water in my other hand, and she just stuck her hand right in the water. (Note to self not to carry her and hot coffee simultaneously.) She sits up so eagerly when it's time to eat her "dinner" (rice cereal and carrots last night) and she opens her mouth so wide when that spoon's coming in.
Day after tomorrow, we're leaving for a week in Puerto Rico. I am very nervous about vacationing with Pants at this age -- she's so much more active and demanding than she was in Orlando in December.
Ooops! Gotta run...
Had her 6-month checkup yesterday, and here are her vitals:
Head: 16.5" (45th%)
Weight: 16# (50th%)
Height: 26.5" (75th%)
Amazingly, she's showing no ill effects following this round of immunizations. No fever, no crabbies, and she ate and slept just wonderfully last night.
We're really getting to see some wonderful parts of her personality. She's so interested in everything we do now -- last night I was carrying her in one arm and a glass of water in my other hand, and she just stuck her hand right in the water. (Note to self not to carry her and hot coffee simultaneously.) She sits up so eagerly when it's time to eat her "dinner" (rice cereal and carrots last night) and she opens her mouth so wide when that spoon's coming in.
Day after tomorrow, we're leaving for a week in Puerto Rico. I am very nervous about vacationing with Pants at this age -- she's so much more active and demanding than she was in Orlando in December.
Ooops! Gotta run...
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Things TO Feel Guilty About
So I got the latest issue of BabyTalk magazine in the mail yesterday, and they had an article called "103 Things Not To Feel Guilty About."
Once again, we are bombarded with this culture of entitlement. Maybe we wouldn't be going down the tubes as a society if people weren't encouraged NOT to feel guilty about ANYTHING. Maybe a little dose of guilt keeps us in line.
Some of the "things" mentioned in the article:
#31. Choosing to bottle-feed.
I REALIZE that I am a Nursing Nazi. But I think a little bit of guilt is in order for mothers who do not give breastfeeding their very best shot. Could you have tried harder to make it work? Could you have toughed it out and made it work? I don't think formula-feeders are bad parents, and I know sometimes it's necessary... but I know if I quit breastfeeding today, I would feel guilty. And I think that's all right.
#42. Using a video to keep your baby entertained... so you can shower or eat a little lunch.
Now, I'm ALL about getting some "me" time, even though I spend all day at work. But I feel like I SHOULD have some guilt about that. Today it's one Disney video -- tomorrow, could an hour of CSI: Miami really hurt? See, it's a slippery slope.
I mean, what's next? Don't feel guilty about not using the car seat every single time you drive with your kid? Don't feel guilty about shaking your baby that one time you were REALLY mad? Don't feel guilty about drinking and driving just once or twice? Alls I'm saying is, a little guilt is not a waste of time. It makes us reflect on our actions and keeps us in check, so that we know better or try harder next time. So the next time we have an opportunity to choose one course of action or another, we choose the one that's better for our baby, better for our neighbors, better for society as a whole.
Once again, we are bombarded with this culture of entitlement. Maybe we wouldn't be going down the tubes as a society if people weren't encouraged NOT to feel guilty about ANYTHING. Maybe a little dose of guilt keeps us in line.
Some of the "things" mentioned in the article:
#31. Choosing to bottle-feed.
I REALIZE that I am a Nursing Nazi. But I think a little bit of guilt is in order for mothers who do not give breastfeeding their very best shot. Could you have tried harder to make it work? Could you have toughed it out and made it work? I don't think formula-feeders are bad parents, and I know sometimes it's necessary... but I know if I quit breastfeeding today, I would feel guilty. And I think that's all right.
#42. Using a video to keep your baby entertained... so you can shower or eat a little lunch.
Now, I'm ALL about getting some "me" time, even though I spend all day at work. But I feel like I SHOULD have some guilt about that. Today it's one Disney video -- tomorrow, could an hour of CSI: Miami really hurt? See, it's a slippery slope.
I mean, what's next? Don't feel guilty about not using the car seat every single time you drive with your kid? Don't feel guilty about shaking your baby that one time you were REALLY mad? Don't feel guilty about drinking and driving just once or twice? Alls I'm saying is, a little guilt is not a waste of time. It makes us reflect on our actions and keeps us in check, so that we know better or try harder next time. So the next time we have an opportunity to choose one course of action or another, we choose the one that's better for our baby, better for our neighbors, better for society as a whole.
Lacto-ingestion Parental Summoning Specialist
Joel's being transitioned into a new job within his company. His new title is Key Relationship Support Specialist. Which bumps me out of the lead for Stupidest Title In Our Household. I'm a "Client Service Specialist for Creative Services."
In other news, after three years of solid service in the Gaseous Excrement department, Hobo has been promoted to Quadriped Halitosis Specialist.
In other news, after three years of solid service in the Gaseous Excrement department, Hobo has been promoted to Quadriped Halitosis Specialist.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
You Gotta Have a Fiddle in the Band
So Lucy's been on amoxycillin for a few days now b/c of her bronchitis. She seems to be about a zillion times better -- she's back smiling and making new noises all the time. Anyway, to get the medicine into her mouth with a minimum of spilling, we've been spoon-feeding it to her. She loves the novelty of eating with a spoon, and it's so cute how she opens her mouth so wide with each bite. Usually to feed her, we just sit her in her high chair. We've been using the chair for several months -- the seat reclines way back so she's been able to sit in it since she was very little. Well, recently we've been sitting the chair almost straight-up since she's been getting such good head- and upper-body control. So this morning, she started leaning forward for the spoon! Meaning she's really sitting up, all on her own. This seems like a big milestone to me, because I *think* that once she can sit up, we won't absolutely need a special baby chair any time we want to put her down for a sec.
Also this morning, I was trying to think of a goofy song to sing to Lucy as I was getting ready in the kitchen (so she wouldn't realize I was getting MY stuff ready rather than actually playing with her). And somehow I came up with "If you're gonna play in Texas, you gotta have a fiddle in the band..." well unfortunately those are the only words I know to that song. So I stopped there, and then out of the bathroom comes Joel, booming the next line: "That lead guitar is hot but not for Louisiana man..."
WHAT!?!? Mr. "I Don't Know Any Songs and I HATE Country Music" knows ALL the words to "If you're gonna play in Texas."
Today we're getting rid of the wagon (donating it to, I hope, some reputable charity), which happens to be the car I learned to drive in. Sad.
Also this morning, I was trying to think of a goofy song to sing to Lucy as I was getting ready in the kitchen (so she wouldn't realize I was getting MY stuff ready rather than actually playing with her). And somehow I came up with "If you're gonna play in Texas, you gotta have a fiddle in the band..." well unfortunately those are the only words I know to that song. So I stopped there, and then out of the bathroom comes Joel, booming the next line: "That lead guitar is hot but not for Louisiana man..."
WHAT!?!? Mr. "I Don't Know Any Songs and I HATE Country Music" knows ALL the words to "If you're gonna play in Texas."
Today we're getting rid of the wagon (donating it to, I hope, some reputable charity), which happens to be the car I learned to drive in. Sad.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Life, ALTAFIED
So my company renamed itself ALTAFI (www.altafimarketing.com) and we had the big renaming launch yesterday -- the office was decked out in lime green, and they brought in subs and cake and there were some contests and whatnot. It was pretty fun actually. :) Anyway, the point of this is there was a happy hour after work yesterday at a local restaurant and when I got in my car at 5:30pm to drive home I peek at my cell phone and I see I have FOUR missed calls, which is a LOT, and one new message so I'm dialing in and I can't get the message to play and finally I do and it's Jean saying "Oh hey, someone got shot in your neighborhood just now." So I see that the other THREE messages are from Joel (who was just supposed to pick Lucy up at 4:45 and go home) so I start to freak out and I call home and the conversation went something like:
Me: "Omigod what's wrong??"
Joel: "Oh, I have SO much to tell you! Well Randy Moss got traded..."
Me: "WHAT!?!? I need these stories in DESCENDING order of importance, please. Now!!"
Joel: "Are you at home now?"
Me (forgetting that I had CALLED HIM at home): "You're not HOME!!? Where ARE you?!?!"
Joel: "Well got called into a meeting right at 4, and let me read you this letter..."
(long letter-reading ensues... phrases like "your position has been eliminated, we have a new opportunity for you... should you choose not to accept it, your employment will be terminated...)
Me: "OK, well that doesn't sound so bad. Now who got shot?"
Joel: "Oh, a Ramsey county police officer."
Me: "Like right by our house?? Like can I even get home?"
Joel: "Oh, no, up north of Lake Phalen" (which is like three MILES from us)
Me: OK, so you still have a job, nobody's dead, and you're just sitting at home?
Joel: Right.
ARRGH! Well anyway. He had gotten a little more worked-up about the job thing than was maybe merited -- the phrasing of "eliminated" and "terminated" were just HR mumbo-jumbo (we think), and it's all going to be OK. Phew!
Me: "Omigod what's wrong??"
Joel: "Oh, I have SO much to tell you! Well Randy Moss got traded..."
Me: "WHAT!?!? I need these stories in DESCENDING order of importance, please. Now!!"
Joel: "Are you at home now?"
Me (forgetting that I had CALLED HIM at home): "You're not HOME!!? Where ARE you?!?!"
Joel: "Well got called into a meeting right at 4, and let me read you this letter..."
(long letter-reading ensues... phrases like "your position has been eliminated, we have a new opportunity for you... should you choose not to accept it, your employment will be terminated...)
Me: "OK, well that doesn't sound so bad. Now who got shot?"
Joel: "Oh, a Ramsey county police officer."
Me: "Like right by our house?? Like can I even get home?"
Joel: "Oh, no, up north of Lake Phalen" (which is like three MILES from us)
Me: OK, so you still have a job, nobody's dead, and you're just sitting at home?
Joel: Right.
ARRGH! Well anyway. He had gotten a little more worked-up about the job thing than was maybe merited -- the phrasing of "eliminated" and "terminated" were just HR mumbo-jumbo (we think), and it's all going to be OK. Phew!
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