... said, "Madelyn, do not lap up the dog's water."
... heard, "Dad, I think I want to blow something up."*
... had a phone to each ear, a breast fully exposed with a small kidlet attached to it, two timers ringing and a partridge in a freaking pear tree.
*Okay, so she was talking about the bag of balloons Tom bought for Mad's birthday party. You know, the ones where I told him, "Hey, we didn't remember to get balloons. Can you grab a few while you're out?" In my mind, "helium-filled" and "tied with a pretty ribbon" were unnecessary descriptors based on the last four birthday parties held around here.
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Madelyn Rocket Frog Turns Four
Madelyn turned four a couple weeks ago. Can you believe it? Four is so much older than three, don't you think?
There were a few similarities between this year's party and last year's. In case you don't remember, we had frog cupcakes then.
We also had them now. (Yeah, I know "had them now"... it is what it is.)
You see frogs, right? (All smiling Muppets... er... frogs were done by Grandma Margaret. As usual, the nonplussed frogs were created by yours truly.
I got the recipe here, although you can see mine bear little resemblance. The main difference, aside from the chocolate is that my pan was apparently 9 X 9. The extra inch in each direction meant less cookie on top. As far as I'm concerned, this is a serious win.
Like the pine cone bird feeder. Okay, so you made dozens of these when you were a kid. In my sheltered (ha!) life, I only learned of them when Grandma Margaret recently said, "Hey, I was thinking... "
Pine cone, peanut butter (just go ahead and accept now that the kids are all going to stick that spreader back into the peanut butter after licking it off... yes, even your beloved Princess Smooshy Face) and birdseed. Use a pipe cleaner to make a hanger and put it on the tree in your yard.
Ours are buried in the full foliage of one of our plum trees, but they are already needing to be reseeded. The birds are happy.
Hand- and fingerprint trees are a lot of fun. (Bailey's is a weeping willow.) Be sure to tell the kidlets that it's not chocolate, even if it looks like it could be. I've said it before, whoever invented washable inks and paints is my favorite person. In the world.
No campsite is complete without a tree and a roaring fire. (I cannot stress how much better that fire looked in real life. Same for the tree. No matter how schmancy the camera, sometimes it just comes down to operator skill... or lack thereof.)
Madelyn, giving me her latest "Oh, you're taking my photo?" look. Bonus: A little Fynnie in the lush landscape that is our perpetually awesome backyard.
Last year at this point, Madelyn looked just as excited. And then we gave her ice cream and she passed out. Over the course of the past year we have taught her about breathing exercises to calm herself and that ice cream should be enjoyed slowly with small bites. Although she and I did buy ice cream for the party, it never made it out of the freezer. What?! She didn't even notice.
Not that Madelyn didn't make my heart jump into my throat anyway. Why she threw her head... and hair!... forward while blowing out the candle, I'll never know. But she didn't catch on fire and we did not find any other reasons to seek specialized medical treatment. That, my friends, is a successful party!
Fynnie may or may not have gotten hold of three or four cupcakes. All we know for sure is that we found three of them sitting outside with the frosting and candy faces eaten away.
This, my friends, is Fynnie's thinking face. Ask her a question and this is what she will do. Usually while saying, "Um..."
I'm pretty sure she's planning her next party. Not to worry, Grandma Margaret is all over it!
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
And Then I Had To Do the Creepy Dance
My birthday was a week ago Friday. Get this: Tom realized ahead of time that my birthday was going to be on March 23 this year. (And you go, "Whaaat?!?" and I go, "I know, right!?!")
Unlike previous years that have included thewell thought out last minute trip to Target for a greeting card and some Tic Tacs, he began plotting and scheming and, you know, being aware well in advance.
He took the day off from work, so I did, too. We took the girls to IHOP for breakfast and then spent the morning shopping. Okay, sure, it was for sheets and frames for Madelyn's room. Ask me how much I care? I don't. Then we drove down the hill.
We took the train road. We stopped for sunflowers. I tried to snap a few photos, but it was too windy in the pass. After wrangling a few sunflowers off their bushes, I headed toward the car.
I noticed a little green bug on one of the flowers. Brushed it off and searched for others before taking the flower into our car and giving it to one of the girls.
Got 'em all! Whew!
Turned to the second flower and saw this:
What's the big deal?! Allow me to magnify for you.
Which of my daughters did I almost give that to?
Gah!
So, yeah. I set the flower on the hood of my car, snapped a couple photos, flung that flower off the car and proceeded to do the creepy dance.
Did you do it, too?
Unlike previous years that have included the
He took the day off from work, so I did, too. We took the girls to IHOP for breakfast and then spent the morning shopping. Okay, sure, it was for sheets and frames for Madelyn's room. Ask me how much I care? I don't. Then we drove down the hill.
We took the train road. We stopped for sunflowers. I tried to snap a few photos, but it was too windy in the pass. After wrangling a few sunflowers off their bushes, I headed toward the car.
I noticed a little green bug on one of the flowers. Brushed it off and searched for others before taking the flower into our car and giving it to one of the girls.
Got 'em all! Whew!
Turned to the second flower and saw this:
What's the big deal?! Allow me to magnify for you.
What the hell is that?!?!
Which of my daughters did I almost give that to?
Gah!
So, yeah. I set the flower on the hood of my car, snapped a couple photos, flung that flower off the car and proceeded to do the creepy dance.
Did you do it, too?
Monday, March 19, 2012
Lost in My Daughter
Madelyn's fourth birthday is coming up soon. I am working on a photo book for her. It's not easy to fit four years of energetic and happy and studious life (make no mistake, she's watching!) into one book, but I'm trying. It's even more difficult when a certain someone who is not me, but who is the only other adult living in this homestead, has taken the old photo cards out of the monitor stand, where they had been since I owned a digital camera, and put them who knows where. (I don't mind them being moved, especially since we don't use the monitor stand anymore. But can they all just go in one place that someone here remembers?)
Slightly sickening feeling when I remember pawing through some things he had set aside for recycling and trash a couple years ago. In with the box from my first digital camera was a disk for it. Once upon a time there were probably five or six such disks that captured much of Corey's youth and Tom's and my early years, but I only have that rescued one.
*Ohm*
On top of those disks, almost all of which predate even my pregnancy with Madelyn, I was missing the card from her first six months at home.
I have a code for a free photo book. It expires soon. More importantly, Mad's birthday is coming up right after that! And I have another coupon code that should cover any extra pages I might need in order to make four years fit into one book. That coupon expires tonight. (Yes, I should be working on it now. I know!)
Tom and I had a brief discussion that... well... here's my status update last night:
Happiness is having your husband find the photo card that has Madelyn from about two weeks to six months old. (Let's not talk about the open-mouthed stare I received when I pointed out that he had said he'd look for it a month ago. Or the rude remark he made about how I shouldn't go "tearing up the office" right before he went in and tore up the office and banged things around for half an hour. Aaand, since we're not talking about certain things, let's also not mention that I had already pulled the disk out of our desk, but thought it was something else and let it sit there, only popping it into the computer because he handed it to me along with the disk reader.) Happy, happy.
So yeah. Tom handed me the disk I had located and it turned out to hold 1624 photos, almost exclusively of Mad's early days. That's a lot of photos. A lot of memories. And yet, I needed more.
Why? Because my old camera had crapped out about a week before Mad's arrival, and we didn't replace it until she was a couple weeks old. Everything we have from those intervening weeks are crappy, but much loved cell phone shots.
The good news is that I've been pretty generous in sending photos to both Tom (at work) and his mom. The better news is that they are both hoarders photo savers. (They're really not hoarders. Well, his mom is really not a hoarder.) (I wouldn't even be putting disclaimers in here if it weren't for the fact that one of his good friends reads this blog. Shh.)
One week before my due date. Six days before her arrival.
Her very first photo, taken when she was about 20 minutes old, gray, grunting and giving Daddy the stink eye. I held her for a few minutes that went by way to quickly. The next time I would see her would be another rapid few minutes in the nursery before she was taken to NICU, and after that, it would be a photo taken by the nurses; she was covered in electrodes and little gold heart-shaped stickers and tubes. Add to that her blonde hair (in the photo from the nurses) and it's no wonder it felt surreal. Speaking of her head, do you see how it's perfectly round? That's because my kids like to stay up in my ribs until the last freaking second. You would never guess that I'd been in labor 36 hours before she shot out!
The first time she got to eat, she was almost a day and a half old. I look at my nails and remember getting the manicure so my hands would look nice in photos. Who knew those photos would be taken in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and that my hands would be holding a bottle of mostly formula and the couple tiny drops I had been able to pump?
Part of me thinks this is the first time Tom got to hold Madelyn. But there was a period of an hour or two when she went to the regular nursery for monitoring. He went with her and I hope he got to hold her there, too. Do you see the way their eyes locked? I have a few photos like that. Immediately after her birth, she was taken to the isolette to be worked on by the respiratory team. Although she had ingested meconium and one lung had collapsed, our Mad-A-Girl hollered. My mom, Corey and Nance could all hear her even though they were on the other side of a glass door with a room in between us and them. But as soon as Tom walked over and said something to her, she stopped crying and looked at him. (If only that worked so well now!)
Out of all the photos, this is the one that surprised me. How do I not remember that she had a feeding tube? Even looking at this photo and comparing it to my memory... it just doesn't match up. Even though I have followed Miss Elimy's story, my memory was never jogged.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Celebrate Good Times, C'mon!
Mad wanted ducks and frogs, chocolate cupcakes and white and a spoon for her birthday party.
I admit these frog cupcakes are rather pitiful. I found the best frog cupcake toppers, but Tom decided "we" should make these instead. In the picture we'd found online, the green candy stayed in a smile. Ours would hardly stay bent at all. When I tried putting a very bent piece on one cupcake, it dragged the frosting down until the frog looked even more grim than the others.
Corey said these look less like frogs and more like green French people. Vohoho!
Oh, and what they lack in style, these cupcakes made up for in ability to stick to the paper. I don't say I completely forgot to put oil in the batter. I say I made fat free chocolate cupcakes.
The same lady who made these perfect ducks was the maker of the frogs Tom said we shouldn't buy, because "we" could make our own. (Our order was perfect and shipped a lot more quickly than I'd expected. Not only that, but since we'd purchased the candy for the frogs at an overpriced mall candy shop, the cost savings for doing it ourselves was $3.)
Banana nut muffins cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. Um, yes please!
I am just so relieved that Tom didn't insist we make duck cupcakes, too. Oh, I found an adorable ducky cupcake.
But I also found a blog that showed exactly what my ducks would look like, should we attempt such a feat. I think the fact that the writer calls her sister-in-law's (I believe) effort "mutant rubber ducks" speaks to the horror. You can check that out here.
When the kids arrived, they hunted for butterflies. The butterfly nets had one "catch" in it and the kids had to find the matching prey. Good thing Grandma put the butterflies out and not me. I envisioned them being spread high and low around a couple of rooms in our house. She put them all in one tiny little section. The kids are two, so easy finding and matching is different for them than for me. Note to self.
This little lovely is still on the wall.
Critter tree. For looks. We are using it for Easter, too. Just as you see here, only without the balloons. It may also become our Cinco de Mayo tree. Arribe!
Making caterpillars in our weed-ridden backyard. Check out those short sleeves. It was a balmy 53 degrees in the sun. With wind. Jackets were brought out shortly after this.
Lots of activities to do, but what's better than digging in cement-like clay?
Each of the kids had a pot and a selection of veggies to choose from. Samantha and her mother opted for an ambitious looking watermelon plant. I am not kidding. That's what she called it (the mother, not the child). I love Valeria. She's from the mommy group I was in when Mad was born. We were the rare group that had nothing in common aside from our babies. Valeria is from Belarus and a model. Now she's working on her own clothing line. I can be counted on to not wear makeup, accessories or, often, shoes and a bra. Somehow we make it work.
Mad got some great gifts. Apparently people felt like they could help us furnish our barren abode house at the same time as they celebrated Mad's third birthday. She received a puppet theater and a table and chairs.
Safety is important. We were all happy to read this on the box.
Not as happy to see this on each and every chair. At least they won't pinch!
And now for the dramatic conclusion...
Right after this was taken, Mad seemed to have a seizure. Thank god my mother-in-law was there. Her nursing skills, speed and calm exterior helped us all cope a little better.
Yes, she's seen a doctor. He said it could've been a seizure or she could have been holding her breath from all the excitement. Waiting on a neurology referral. Yes, that's a ridiculous thing to have to wait this long for.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Party Planning
Tom decided he'd like Mad's third birthday party to be WordWorld themed. Or The Wiggles. I have never really disliked a kids' show until seeing a few episodes of The Wiggles. Granted, they have some catchy tunes, but they also... okay, they're just weird. And they're not my kind of weird. Ugh!
More importantly, do we have to have commercial themes? We did get her a musical Elmo balloon last year (the music piece lasted five or six months longer than the balloon itself... an excellent investment in Mad's eyes), but are we really the type of people whose parties match up with television shows? We may as well shop at WalMart, catch Bieber fever and start teaching Mad that Hannah Montana is an excellent role model right now.
*sigh*
Margaret and I did a little birthday decoration reconnaissance Monday night. Stopped at a home decoration store rumored to have butterfly nets for cheap. When you're looking at a dozen kids, they weren't that cheap, and for some reason, the more appropriately sized small ones were twice as much as the large ones.
Went to the dollar section at Target and found the small ones for a buck. Along with some frog slippers and a frog magnifying glass. Have I ever mentioned Mad's unswerving adoration for frogs? I do find it ironic, since my dad insisted on calling me Froggie from age 11 to probably 19 or 20. It was cute for about three minutes. People loved to gift me with frog statuettes, stationary, stickers specially printed with my "name." Beginning at age 22, frogs were given away, donated or tossed with every move. I moved four times that year alone.
It's probably inevitable, Mad's frog love. She also loves ducks. They do not have quite the same luster as fwogs, rather they are fwogs' pond buddies and, as such, held in a position of esteem.
Behold part of her collection of frogs and ducks:
The other morning on the drive to Grandma's, I asked Mad, "What do you want to do for your birthday that is coming up?"
"I need chocwet."
"Yes, honey, that's because you're my daughter. What do you want to do?"
"I need chocwet and white."
"You want chocolate cake?"
"Yeth."
"And white cake?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Do you want a cake or would you rather have cupcakes?"
"I ravviveler have cupcakes!"
"Chocolate cupcakes and white cupcakes?"
"Yeth. I need chocwet cupcakes and white cupcakes. And a spoon. And ice cweam."
One thing I love about my girl, that ability to separate the needs from the wants.
Today we made more progress in the party planning details. There's a cupcake bakery that recently won Cupcake Wars. Margaret pulled the address for me so I could check 'em out. I asked Mad if she had any particular decorations she wanted on her cupcakes.
"Yes, ummm... I want fwogs."
"Anything else?"
"And ducks. And fwogs and ducks."
In case that wasn't clear, this evening she explained the whole situation to Tom. Covering her bases, don'tcha know.
Tonight Tom made invitations that feature a frog who is a complete unknown in the world of children's television. Or probably any television. Printed on duck yellow paper. Has some cute wording. I gave it a fun font. More of a garden/pond feeling than a theme. At our house in the desert. All is well. (Yes, I am dying to go all "ducky" here, but a modicum of restraint, people!)
More importantly, do we have to have commercial themes? We did get her a musical Elmo balloon last year (the music piece lasted five or six months longer than the balloon itself... an excellent investment in Mad's eyes), but are we really the type of people whose parties match up with television shows? We may as well shop at WalMart, catch Bieber fever and start teaching Mad that Hannah Montana is an excellent role model right now.
*sigh*
Margaret and I did a little birthday decoration reconnaissance Monday night. Stopped at a home decoration store rumored to have butterfly nets for cheap. When you're looking at a dozen kids, they weren't that cheap, and for some reason, the more appropriately sized small ones were twice as much as the large ones.
Went to the dollar section at Target and found the small ones for a buck. Along with some frog slippers and a frog magnifying glass. Have I ever mentioned Mad's unswerving adoration for frogs? I do find it ironic, since my dad insisted on calling me Froggie from age 11 to probably 19 or 20. It was cute for about three minutes. People loved to gift me with frog statuettes, stationary, stickers specially printed with my "name." Beginning at age 22, frogs were given away, donated or tossed with every move. I moved four times that year alone.
It's probably inevitable, Mad's frog love. She also loves ducks. They do not have quite the same luster as fwogs, rather they are fwogs' pond buddies and, as such, held in a position of esteem.
Behold part of her collection of frogs and ducks:
Allow me to introduce you to some of her friends. Back Row: Duck, New Frog, Backpack Frog, Other New Frog. Front Row: Another New Frog (sometimes known as Fynnie's Frog, which Mad reclaims as often as possible), Little Green Frog (AKA Original F.R.O.G., this is the dude that started the craze... ahem... for Tom... before Mad was born), Duck and Frog Blanket. (Not pictured because she's sleeping on him right now: Big Green Daddy Frog and a collection of fuzzy and rubber ducks, but no, not fuzzy rubber ducks.)
The other morning on the drive to Grandma's, I asked Mad, "What do you want to do for your birthday that is coming up?"
"I need chocwet."
"Yes, honey, that's because you're my daughter. What do you want to do?"
"I need chocwet and white."
"You want chocolate cake?"
"Yeth."
"And white cake?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Do you want a cake or would you rather have cupcakes?"
"I ravviveler have cupcakes!"
"Chocolate cupcakes and white cupcakes?"
"Yeth. I need chocwet cupcakes and white cupcakes. And a spoon. And ice cweam."
One thing I love about my girl, that ability to separate the needs from the wants.
Today we made more progress in the party planning details. There's a cupcake bakery that recently won Cupcake Wars. Margaret pulled the address for me so I could check 'em out. I asked Mad if she had any particular decorations she wanted on her cupcakes.
"Yes, ummm... I want fwogs."
"Anything else?"
"And ducks. And fwogs and ducks."
In case that wasn't clear, this evening she explained the whole situation to Tom. Covering her bases, don'tcha know.
Tonight Tom made invitations that feature a frog who is a complete unknown in the world of children's television. Or probably any television. Printed on duck yellow paper. Has some cute wording. I gave it a fun font. More of a garden/pond feeling than a theme. At our house in the desert. All is well. (Yes, I am dying to go all "ducky" here, but a modicum of restraint, people!)
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Milestones
Today, March 1 two things became irrevocably true.
One, Fynnie got her second tooth. Perhaps that's why we were up from 2:30 to 4:00 this morning, although she seemed perfectly happy.
Two, I must now say, "... when I turn 40 this month." Last year Tom threw a surprise party for me. To make up for the god-awful birthday of 2009. More than one person insinuated last year that I was "39 again." Dude! Today one of my coworkers said, "Is that all you're going to be?"
Apparently she meant that in the because 40 is so young sort of way (most of the women I work with are at least 50). Or that's what she tried to explain after hearing me gasp and seeing my mouth drop to the floor.
Not that mere weeks from 40 is old or anything, but today I borrowed a magnifying glass from my dad and Margaret so that I could do some paperwork at the office. We have to cross-check students based on this exceedingly long series of digits. Turns out I can't see much difference between 3, 6 and 8. Or 4,7 and 9. Okay, yes, sometimes I get 5 and 0 mixed up with other numbers. But 1, that I can handle, no problemo.
One, Fynnie got her second tooth. Perhaps that's why we were up from 2:30 to 4:00 this morning, although she seemed perfectly happy.
Two, I must now say, "... when I turn 40 this month." Last year Tom threw a surprise party for me. To make up for the god-awful birthday of 2009. More than one person insinuated last year that I was "39 again." Dude! Today one of my coworkers said, "Is that all you're going to be?"
Apparently she meant that in the because 40 is so young sort of way (most of the women I work with are at least 50). Or that's what she tried to explain after hearing me gasp and seeing my mouth drop to the floor.
Not that mere weeks from 40 is old or anything, but today I borrowed a magnifying glass from my dad and Margaret so that I could do some paperwork at the office. We have to cross-check students based on this exceedingly long series of digits. Turns out I can't see much difference between 3, 6 and 8. Or 4,7 and 9. Okay, yes, sometimes I get 5 and 0 mixed up with other numbers. But 1, that I can handle, no problemo.
Monday, July 05, 2010
Seventeen Years
Today is Corey's birthday. It's so hard to believe that 17 years ago I worked so hard to bring him into this world. We bonded instantly. When I saw him in the nursery a few hours later, I knew him.
He has been by my side through some pretty great highs and pretty awful lows. Some of those highs and lows he brought about himself. Some of them I brought into our lives. Throughout it all, he has loved me as strongly and deeply as I have loved him.
He has caused me to laugh, to cry, to lose sleep, to scream at the top of my lungs and to sit quietly in wonder. He made me become a woman, a person who isn't afraid to question everything to make the best decisions I can.
The only thing I've done longer than I've loved him and been his mama is to breathe.
He has been by my side through some pretty great highs and pretty awful lows. Some of those highs and lows he brought about himself. Some of them I brought into our lives. Throughout it all, he has loved me as strongly and deeply as I have loved him.
He has caused me to laugh, to cry, to lose sleep, to scream at the top of my lungs and to sit quietly in wonder. He made me become a woman, a person who isn't afraid to question everything to make the best decisions I can.
The only thing I've done longer than I've loved him and been his mama is to breathe.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
I've Got My Mind On the Cake and the Cake On My Mind
Tom's birthday is coming up on election day. I figure we'll probably do most of our celebrating on Sunday next week. Since this is one of those times in life where everything is due to be paid for or must be bought in the next two months (like two car insurances, a dresser, bedding, Maisy's chip registration, etc.), I'm thinking low-key and homemade.
I have been searching the web for cake recipes that don't involve yellow cake mix or shortening. How someone can label their cake "scratch" and then start off with a box is beyond me, frankly. More like itch than scratch.
It took me the better part of an hour, an hour during which I considered calling Bossy Betty for advice. Here's what I've put together, mostly with the help of Wilton (something I think I might have heard of once, but I'm guessing everyone who bakes knows them well), and also with a little help from Hannah over at honeyandjam.com:
Butter Cake
Raspberry Filling
Raspberry Frosting
Here's my question. Tom loves raspberries, but do you think it'll be too much raspberry goodness going on? I had considered doing a lemon frosting instead (assuming I could find one that doesn't involve egg yolks or shortening... guh!).
I have been searching the web for cake recipes that don't involve yellow cake mix or shortening. How someone can label their cake "scratch" and then start off with a box is beyond me, frankly. More like itch than scratch.
It took me the better part of an hour, an hour during which I considered calling Bossy Betty for advice. Here's what I've put together, mostly with the help of Wilton (something I think I might have heard of once, but I'm guessing everyone who bakes knows them well), and also with a little help from Hannah over at honeyandjam.com:
Butter Cake
Raspberry Filling
Raspberry Frosting
Here's my question. Tom loves raspberries, but do you think it'll be too much raspberry goodness going on? I had considered doing a lemon frosting instead (assuming I could find one that doesn't involve egg yolks or shortening... guh!).
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Fun Times and Celebrations
We had Madelyn's birthday party on a Sunday. Remember my original plan for a small party? How does 27 people (plus us) grab ya? Ah, I'm not complaining. The first 20 were family. Seven sounds practically rational.
As Mad had napped earlier in the day (whew!), she had a lovely time and was pleasant to all. When Luke Skywalker dared to walk away with the stool from her art desk, she simply said, "No pwease," and it was returned immediately. Yes, Lukie may still be traumatized from his own birthday party the day before (they're birthday mates... someday Heather and I will just combine our efforts), when he dared to sit in his own car with Mad. She screamed so long and loud that I took her on a walk and then a drive. I pondered calling Tom from my car and telling him to just meet me at home until I realized that my phone... and purse... were still back at the party.
***Note to self, maybe save those no-nap-having, first-haircut-getting, my-new-bed days for weekends when everyone isn't having parties.
When it was time to open presents, Madelyn was at her art desk drawing furiously. I wasn't sure she'd come over to open presents, since she still doesn't really care about them. However, she does care about bows.
As Mad had napped earlier in the day (whew!), she had a lovely time and was pleasant to all. When Luke Skywalker dared to walk away with the stool from her art desk, she simply said, "No pwease," and it was returned immediately. Yes, Lukie may still be traumatized from his own birthday party the day before (they're birthday mates... someday Heather and I will just combine our efforts), when he dared to sit in his own car with Mad. She screamed so long and loud that I took her on a walk and then a drive. I pondered calling Tom from my car and telling him to just meet me at home until I realized that my phone... and purse... were still back at the party.
***Note to self, maybe save those no-nap-having, first-haircut-getting, my-new-bed days for weekends when everyone isn't having parties.
When it was time to open presents, Madelyn was at her art desk drawing furiously. I wasn't sure she'd come over to open presents, since she still doesn't really care about them. However, she does care about bows.
Daddy opened presents with an occasional Mad-assist. The gifts she received were lovely, mostly non-plastic, and useful. Mama likes them as much as Mad.
The moment everyone was waiting for was nearly upon us. Cake! We had one for Mad with a penguin, which she liked (though not as much as her stuffed one from Grandma's house).
And one to announce the baby's sex. (Have I mentioned the gender cake plan? If it's blue inside, we're having a boy; pink, a girl.)
But before we got to that, Tom set up an old "foolproof" gender predictor test on our couch. He put a spoon under one pillow and a knife under another. I came into the room and sat down on one of the pillows. According to the knife under my pillow, I am having a boy. One of my friends, Dayna, was thrilled. Her son, Seth, is about five months younger than Madelyn. She is almost due with her daughter. If I were having a boy, she and I would be swapping clothes.
Dayna tried the gender test (Tom set it up again while she was out of the room) and it said she was having a girl. Probably made her feel secure that we're having a boy. I think she was pretty stoked at the idea of getting all of Mad's old clothes. I would be. Girlfriend's going to be passing down 15 good-sized boxes of clothes. Probably more than I've owned in my whole lifetime!
Here are some of the peeps just before the gender cake was cut. Dayna, her husband and son are sitting at the table (yes, it's still the small table because, no, the big one still isn't finished... argh!). My dad's standing right behind Tom.
Here's the cake (as if you didn't already know):
Let's see what Dayna thinks about the color of the cake, shall we?
Way to conceal those emotions, girl! (Sadly, I didn't get to see Dad's reaction, but I know he's happy.)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
My New Favorite Sound
... is the silence after a houseful of people have left.
It's been a lovely weekend. Yesterday's class was preceded by an hourlong trip to the bookstore by myself. Yes, I might have spent my time reading an entire People magazine for free because it annoys me that the website has pop-ups despite my blocker, but guilt be damned, I'm glad I did it (or as glad as I can be for reading that crap). I also looked through some of David Sedaris' books that I haven't yet read. I liked "When You Are Engulfed In Flames" and loved "Me Talk Pretty One Day," but the new (to me) stuff didn't hold my interest.
After the class we drove back up here and took the kids and ourselves out to dinner. I have vague recollections of the last time that happened. The weather was consistently warm then; that's as close as I'll come to narrowing it down. We had a lovely time, and Mad wasn't any more difficult out than she is at home (which is saying a lot... she's an easygoing kid). However, she did try to get the server to bring more milk many times. She got to use that same cup this morning and it was fun to watch her remember where it had come from. As she's losing her baby words, her facial expressions are also becoming so much clearer.
Last night we stayed up late. Tom did the grocery shopping after dinner. My first big hint that something was up was that he'd bought six bags of tortilla chips. Now I did request that he purchase enough food to last the entire week, and we do live with a teen boy, but that wasn't quite what I'd had in mind.
I went to bed around 11:00 and awoke at 2:00 AM to the overwhelming scent of something lemony. Turns out he was downstairs shampooing the carpet. We've lived here 11 months and have cleaned the carpets four or five times. I don't think it's an unreasonable amount in either direction, but the fact is the carpets get cleaned right before something is going to happen (except for when Maisy went through that phase in November). I didn't figure out what the aroma was until this morning when I took Mad downstairs and saw all the furniture was sitting in the kitchen.
Tom came down and we put the furniture back. He started doing some deep cleaning, but declined my help. Normally I'd honor his response and "dutifully" go upstairs and take a nap. This time I cleaned the bathroom downstairs and washed some windows and the slider screen. By the time I finished, most of the rest of the work was done, too. It was still only mid-morning, but Mad wanted her nap. Once she went down, so did I. Tom had some mysterious errands to run and Corey had a friend over to play video games. Kind of a nice way to pass the time on a Sunday, I have to say.
When he returned home, Tom said I had to get showered and dressed and be ready to leave by 2:00. In the meantime, he had another errand to run.
I sent a text to Nance to say I was thinking about her. We had been in the midst of a meeting at Starbucks the other day when an elderly woman walked by and Nance broke down. Checking in on one another is normal for us. Shelied said she was at her mom's signing more papers (the home is in escrow for the second time this month... keep your fingers crossed).
In keeping with his family traditions, Tom wasn't home even by 2:10. A few minutes later my mom walked in. She could tell I wasn't expecting her (maybe it was the way I said, "Something is up, but don't tell me"... I'm subtle like that) and made up some cockamamie story about just coming up for a visit. On a Sunday, when she's got church in the morning and in the evening. On a spring break weekend, when the pass is filled with hundreds of thousands of cars returning from Vegas and the river. And with her recent knee problems that are exascerbated by driving.
The doorbell rang and it was Nance and a small crowd of people, including Tom. Apparently they'd all met up where Tom had ordered the cake and had come over together. I almost cried when I saw them. If they had been the only people to show up today, I would have been a very happy girl. But the doorbell kept ringing and people kept arriving. The last few times I suspected it might be one of our smokers or the kids just playing around with me, but it never was.
There were gifts, but none were as special as what Tom had done. However, my second favorite has to be the one from my dad and Margaret. We have talked about the cravings I've had with this pregnancy and about what a hard time we have finding decent cranberry juice. Neither of the places we shop carry Ocean Spray's straight 100% cranberry juice. Dad's gift? Cranberry juice, lemons, tomatoes and salt. Between that and the cake, I could be set for the next week! I might not have any teeth left, but I'll still be smiling.
Once everybody left and Mad was in bed, Corey invited his friend back over. I felt bad he'd had to leave earlier, but I thought we were going somewhere. Tom and I played gin rummy and had a picnic dinner on the front room floor. It was perfect.
It's been a lovely weekend. Yesterday's class was preceded by an hourlong trip to the bookstore by myself. Yes, I might have spent my time reading an entire People magazine for free because it annoys me that the website has pop-ups despite my blocker, but guilt be damned, I'm glad I did it (or as glad as I can be for reading that crap). I also looked through some of David Sedaris' books that I haven't yet read. I liked "When You Are Engulfed In Flames" and loved "Me Talk Pretty One Day," but the new (to me) stuff didn't hold my interest.
After the class we drove back up here and took the kids and ourselves out to dinner. I have vague recollections of the last time that happened. The weather was consistently warm then; that's as close as I'll come to narrowing it down. We had a lovely time, and Mad wasn't any more difficult out than she is at home (which is saying a lot... she's an easygoing kid). However, she did try to get the server to bring more milk many times. She got to use that same cup this morning and it was fun to watch her remember where it had come from. As she's losing her baby words, her facial expressions are also becoming so much clearer.
Last night we stayed up late. Tom did the grocery shopping after dinner. My first big hint that something was up was that he'd bought six bags of tortilla chips. Now I did request that he purchase enough food to last the entire week, and we do live with a teen boy, but that wasn't quite what I'd had in mind.
I went to bed around 11:00 and awoke at 2:00 AM to the overwhelming scent of something lemony. Turns out he was downstairs shampooing the carpet. We've lived here 11 months and have cleaned the carpets four or five times. I don't think it's an unreasonable amount in either direction, but the fact is the carpets get cleaned right before something is going to happen (except for when Maisy went through that phase in November). I didn't figure out what the aroma was until this morning when I took Mad downstairs and saw all the furniture was sitting in the kitchen.
Tom came down and we put the furniture back. He started doing some deep cleaning, but declined my help. Normally I'd honor his response and "dutifully" go upstairs and take a nap. This time I cleaned the bathroom downstairs and washed some windows and the slider screen. By the time I finished, most of the rest of the work was done, too. It was still only mid-morning, but Mad wanted her nap. Once she went down, so did I. Tom had some mysterious errands to run and Corey had a friend over to play video games. Kind of a nice way to pass the time on a Sunday, I have to say.
When he returned home, Tom said I had to get showered and dressed and be ready to leave by 2:00. In the meantime, he had another errand to run.
I sent a text to Nance to say I was thinking about her. We had been in the midst of a meeting at Starbucks the other day when an elderly woman walked by and Nance broke down. Checking in on one another is normal for us. She
In keeping with his family traditions, Tom wasn't home even by 2:10. A few minutes later my mom walked in. She could tell I wasn't expecting her (maybe it was the way I said, "Something is up, but don't tell me"... I'm subtle like that) and made up some cockamamie story about just coming up for a visit. On a Sunday, when she's got church in the morning and in the evening. On a spring break weekend, when the pass is filled with hundreds of thousands of cars returning from Vegas and the river. And with her recent knee problems that are exascerbated by driving.
The doorbell rang and it was Nance and a small crowd of people, including Tom. Apparently they'd all met up where Tom had ordered the cake and had come over together. I almost cried when I saw them. If they had been the only people to show up today, I would have been a very happy girl. But the doorbell kept ringing and people kept arriving. The last few times I suspected it might be one of our smokers or the kids just playing around with me, but it never was.
There were gifts, but none were as special as what Tom had done. However, my second favorite has to be the one from my dad and Margaret. We have talked about the cravings I've had with this pregnancy and about what a hard time we have finding decent cranberry juice. Neither of the places we shop carry Ocean Spray's straight 100% cranberry juice. Dad's gift? Cranberry juice, lemons, tomatoes and salt. Between that and the cake, I could be set for the next week! I might not have any teeth left, but I'll still be smiling.
Once everybody left and Mad was in bed, Corey invited his friend back over. I felt bad he'd had to leave earlier, but I thought we were going somewhere. Tom and I played gin rummy and had a picnic dinner on the front room floor. It was perfect.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Suspicious Mind
My birthday is coming. (Note: That should not be read like you're announcing the arrival of Paul Revere.) I have a "thing" about my birthday. I was going to tell you the hows and whys, but remembered I'd written it last year. The how and why is less interesting than what made me write it all down, but you might want to check it out: Family Tradition.
This year I have tried to guide my husband into remembering that he's not the only one who likes to have a nice birthday. Dear god I hope I have neither harassed nor harangued, but after last year I might still feel a little justified. It hasn't been easy to keep his mind off himself as he's still going through an all-about-me thing (could this be the start of a midlife crisis?... do people still have those or was that only in the 70's?).
In any case, I have either been successful or not. Today I received an email from a good friend saying she can't come up to see us this weekend because she's working a satellite launch. I suspect that Tom may have arranged for a few people to come up, which would be fabulous. However, it's entirely possible that Jo really meant to send that email to her male friend named Shannon; it's happened before. I sent a reply saying she must have had us confused again. I sent another email linking her to Bossy Betty's Bad Mystic Cat (which is awesome). She replied to that and to the earlier link I'd sent so she could check out Hank's reason for not watching cable news (equally awesome, but NSFW or children), but nothing about this weekend. Hmm...
In any case, I'm hopeful that this year's birthday will get rid of the bitter taste of last year, whether my suspicions are true or not.
This year I have tried to guide my husband into remembering that he's not the only one who likes to have a nice birthday. Dear god I hope I have neither harassed nor harangued, but after last year I might still feel a little justified. It hasn't been easy to keep his mind off himself as he's still going through an all-about-me thing (could this be the start of a midlife crisis?... do people still have those or was that only in the 70's?).
In any case, I have either been successful or not. Today I received an email from a good friend saying she can't come up to see us this weekend because she's working a satellite launch. I suspect that Tom may have arranged for a few people to come up, which would be fabulous. However, it's entirely possible that Jo really meant to send that email to her male friend named Shannon; it's happened before. I sent a reply saying she must have had us confused again. I sent another email linking her to Bossy Betty's Bad Mystic Cat (which is awesome). She replied to that and to the earlier link I'd sent so she could check out Hank's reason for not watching cable news (equally awesome, but NSFW or children), but nothing about this weekend. Hmm...
In any case, I'm hopeful that this year's birthday will get rid of the bitter taste of last year, whether my suspicions are true or not.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Sisters By Birth
As you might know, my family motto is, "Putting the F. U. in fun," which I consider to be at least one step beyond "Putting the fun in dysfunctional."
As a child, I grew up with my brother (same mother and father), (step)sister, and stepbrother. My sister has always been one of my best friends. Her (*sigh* okay, our) brother has been a source of wonder and chagrin.
Down the road about 80 miles, bio-dad and his wife (my "Wicked Stepmom," whom I adore... and who is another of the best women in my life) raised my two half sisters.
Eventually my mom and dad divorced and, as Dad is wont to do, he remarried pretty quickly. Margaret has two daughters that I sort of think of like stepsisters almost. Anyway, I think of their kids as my nephews and nieces.
You'd think a girl like me wouldn't need any more siblings, right? Well I think I've got room for more.
When we were expecting Madelyn, Tom and I took a prepared childbirth class together. The instructor, Pamela, was phenomenal. She also teaches a new mommy group after the babies are born. Two of the women from my childbirth class were in the same group. (Okay, so three women, but one was only there once and we were all... including Pamela... relieved when she didn't return.) It was nice to see familiar faces. Pamela strongly encouraged the mommies to meet for lunch afterward each week. Some of us did. Five of us continued to meet for months after the five-week course was complete. We are still in contact, although some more than others. We're an odd mix, because the only thing we have in common is our babies.
Think I'm kidding? Here's a summary of each of them:
Lauren celebrated her 21st birthday during the mommy group class. She's from New York and away from all of her family for the first time. Very private, unfortunately, she dealt with a serious case of postpartum depression. She just had her second child and except for a confirmation through Jennifer that everyone was doing well, we haven't heard anything.
Next up is a Jennifer, who came to class with her expensive sunglasses on each day, as though it was too bright in the building. She has established a mommy group through her church and doesn't really hang with us anymore. My heathen beliefs and attitudes could very well be the reason.
Third in line is Valeria. Valeria, from Belarus, is a former model. She used to work for Disney doing something with costume design. Now she is working on her own fashion line. Valeria and her husband were in our childbirth class. She and I are on the cusp of friendship even though she is a germ-obsessed (seriously... she put hand sanitizer on her daughter's hands because Sami put her hands into her own water cup) mom who can't fathom letting her daughter sleep in her own room. "It's so far." (Uh, it's less than 30 feet away and you have a video monitor.)
Last up (in order of preference) is Heather. Heather is the mother of Luke Skywalker. Yes, I'm serious. I, the least sci-fi person on the planet, have sister love for someone who named her kid after a character from Star Wars. Heather and her husband were in the childbirth class, too. Nobody really hung out and chatted there. Tom saw them arrive at the hospital while I was laboring. Girlfriend arrived three hours after us and delivered four hours before us and I still like her.
On the surface, we don't have much in common either, except that Luke and Mad were born on the same day, mere yards apart. Her approach to dealing with feelings and emotions is much different than the way I tend to move. For example, feelings and emotions are important to me, but not necessarily the driving force in decision making and interacting with others.
Maybe it's that we both come from crazy families. And that we are both talkers. That's probably enough right there. Whatever it is that forms our bond, it seems to be getting stronger.
Yesterday I found myself consulting with her about Madelyn's birthday. Last year we did a huge housewarming/Mad's first birthday bash. It was way bigger than I'd wanted for her birthday, but I didn't want to deal with two parties. We scheduled it pretty quickly, not thinking about the fact that we might be interfering with their plans.
Once we decided, then Heather and Richard got to choose their date for Luke's party. And do it around the other babies' parties, too. After all the way-too-big parties were over, the mommies made a pact that we wouldn't do that to ourselves next year. We agreed that private parties with family and then a small get-together where the kids draw names would be better for everyone.
Two days ago I made the mistake of asking Tom an open-ended question.
"Got any thoughts about Mad's birthday?"
"Yep. I think we'll keep it small this year."
"Yay!"
"So the family..."
(The family, not our family. Okay, that's 24 people.)
"... and some of our friends. And of course, Mad's friends. She should have some people her own age."
So a "small" party is approaching 40 people. Yes, he is crazy, thanks for asking.
I called Heather to commiserate and to see what her plans were for Luke. She is going to see if she can stick to our plan better than I could. I'm pulling for her.
She was surprised when I asked her to figure out Luke's date first, but to me it only seemed right. I feel like we're related and our kids have the same birthday.
As a child, I grew up with my brother (same mother and father), (step)sister, and stepbrother. My sister has always been one of my best friends. Her (*sigh* okay, our) brother has been a source of wonder and chagrin.
Down the road about 80 miles, bio-dad and his wife (my "Wicked Stepmom," whom I adore... and who is another of the best women in my life) raised my two half sisters.
Eventually my mom and dad divorced and, as Dad is wont to do, he remarried pretty quickly. Margaret has two daughters that I sort of think of like stepsisters almost. Anyway, I think of their kids as my nephews and nieces.
You'd think a girl like me wouldn't need any more siblings, right? Well I think I've got room for more.
When we were expecting Madelyn, Tom and I took a prepared childbirth class together. The instructor, Pamela, was phenomenal. She also teaches a new mommy group after the babies are born. Two of the women from my childbirth class were in the same group. (Okay, so three women, but one was only there once and we were all... including Pamela... relieved when she didn't return.) It was nice to see familiar faces. Pamela strongly encouraged the mommies to meet for lunch afterward each week. Some of us did. Five of us continued to meet for months after the five-week course was complete. We are still in contact, although some more than others. We're an odd mix, because the only thing we have in common is our babies.
Think I'm kidding? Here's a summary of each of them:
Lauren celebrated her 21st birthday during the mommy group class. She's from New York and away from all of her family for the first time. Very private, unfortunately, she dealt with a serious case of postpartum depression. She just had her second child and except for a confirmation through Jennifer that everyone was doing well, we haven't heard anything.
Next up is a Jennifer, who came to class with her expensive sunglasses on each day, as though it was too bright in the building. She has established a mommy group through her church and doesn't really hang with us anymore. My heathen beliefs and attitudes could very well be the reason.
Third in line is Valeria. Valeria, from Belarus, is a former model. She used to work for Disney doing something with costume design. Now she is working on her own fashion line. Valeria and her husband were in our childbirth class. She and I are on the cusp of friendship even though she is a germ-obsessed (seriously... she put hand sanitizer on her daughter's hands because Sami put her hands into her own water cup) mom who can't fathom letting her daughter sleep in her own room. "It's so far." (Uh, it's less than 30 feet away and you have a video monitor.)
Last up (in order of preference) is Heather. Heather is the mother of Luke Skywalker. Yes, I'm serious. I, the least sci-fi person on the planet, have sister love for someone who named her kid after a character from Star Wars. Heather and her husband were in the childbirth class, too. Nobody really hung out and chatted there. Tom saw them arrive at the hospital while I was laboring. Girlfriend arrived three hours after us and delivered four hours before us and I still like her.
On the surface, we don't have much in common either, except that Luke and Mad were born on the same day, mere yards apart. Her approach to dealing with feelings and emotions is much different than the way I tend to move. For example, feelings and emotions are important to me, but not necessarily the driving force in decision making and interacting with others.
Maybe it's that we both come from crazy families. And that we are both talkers. That's probably enough right there. Whatever it is that forms our bond, it seems to be getting stronger.
Yesterday I found myself consulting with her about Madelyn's birthday. Last year we did a huge housewarming/Mad's first birthday bash. It was way bigger than I'd wanted for her birthday, but I didn't want to deal with two parties. We scheduled it pretty quickly, not thinking about the fact that we might be interfering with their plans.
Once we decided, then Heather and Richard got to choose their date for Luke's party. And do it around the other babies' parties, too. After all the way-too-big parties were over, the mommies made a pact that we wouldn't do that to ourselves next year. We agreed that private parties with family and then a small get-together where the kids draw names would be better for everyone.
Two days ago I made the mistake of asking Tom an open-ended question.
"Got any thoughts about Mad's birthday?"
"Yep. I think we'll keep it small this year."
"Yay!"
"So the family..."
(The family, not our family. Okay, that's 24 people.)
"... and some of our friends. And of course, Mad's friends. She should have some people her own age."
So a "small" party is approaching 40 people. Yes, he is crazy, thanks for asking.
I called Heather to commiserate and to see what her plans were for Luke. She is going to see if she can stick to our plan better than I could. I'm pulling for her.
She was surprised when I asked her to figure out Luke's date first, but to me it only seemed right. I feel like we're related and our kids have the same birthday.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Sixteen Years
... ago this night, I was in labor with my son. Around now the second epidural was finally starting to do its magic. Yeah, I saw fireworks that night, just not the ones anybody else saw. Except maybe that screaming woman a few rooms away. Jeez!
Just after midnight, my beautiful, perfect son was born. Bright-eyed and completely interested in all the loving faces surrounding him. That was such a long time ago. It was yesterday, too.
Here's a little tidbit you never knew about him. Aside from a Gameboy Advance, Corey's never owned a gaming system. He's had to go to friends' houses or have them bring their systems to our place (or Grammy's, as the case may be). He's been saving up part of his allowance to get one. I checked into it. Turns out, he's about 1/3 of the way there. Just for the freaking system. No games.
A week or so ago Corey decided he wanted to go to Medieval Times for his birthday. When you make a decision like that a week before your birthday AND said birthday is on a holiday weekend, chances are nil (as it turns out) that any of your friends will still be available. Or your favorite cousin.
Tom and I would have gone with him alone, but that wasn't cool enough, apparently. So he's requested dinner at Claim Jumper. Now that place can be expensive, but it's got nothing on a dinner show for five people. So all of the money we aren't spending at Medieval Times is going toward an XBox 360.
I told Corey that all the local stores are out of stock right now.
I checked on Amazon.com and we can get a used one (you should have seen the wrinkled nose!!) for $100 less than retail, and it can be here on Tuesday. Or we can get a new one shipped to us from Best Buy and it'll be here in 10 days.
I told him I didn't know if that's 10 days from today or 10 days from tomorrow (what, with today being a holiday and all) or even 10 days from Monday, since a lot of places aren't open on Sundays.
Shall we start counting the lies? I, who never lie to my son, even when the truth really hurts have told no fewer than half a dozen lies over the course of the day today.
I mean, the online ordering stuff is true. Except that I do know the one from Best Buy would arrive on the 14th. Other lies of the day include:
I can't wait for tomorrow even more than he can't wait. My quandary is this: Do we give him the gifts in the morning and lose him to the TV all day? Or wait until we're at the restaurant? Which is... oh, about 45 miles from here. Part of me wants to wake him at 12:24 AM like I used to do before he was a surly teen, love him up and then give him his gifts.
Just after midnight, my beautiful, perfect son was born. Bright-eyed and completely interested in all the loving faces surrounding him. That was such a long time ago. It was yesterday, too.
Here's a little tidbit you never knew about him. Aside from a Gameboy Advance, Corey's never owned a gaming system. He's had to go to friends' houses or have them bring their systems to our place (or Grammy's, as the case may be). He's been saving up part of his allowance to get one. I checked into it. Turns out, he's about 1/3 of the way there. Just for the freaking system. No games.
A week or so ago Corey decided he wanted to go to Medieval Times for his birthday. When you make a decision like that a week before your birthday AND said birthday is on a holiday weekend, chances are nil (as it turns out) that any of your friends will still be available. Or your favorite cousin.
Tom and I would have gone with him alone, but that wasn't cool enough, apparently. So he's requested dinner at Claim Jumper. Now that place can be expensive, but it's got nothing on a dinner show for five people. So all of the money we aren't spending at Medieval Times is going toward an XBox 360.
I told Corey that all the local stores are out of stock right now.
I checked on Amazon.com and we can get a used one (you should have seen the wrinkled nose!!) for $100 less than retail, and it can be here on Tuesday. Or we can get a new one shipped to us from Best Buy and it'll be here in 10 days.
I told him I didn't know if that's 10 days from today or 10 days from tomorrow (what, with today being a holiday and all) or even 10 days from Monday, since a lot of places aren't open on Sundays.
Shall we start counting the lies? I, who never lie to my son, even when the truth really hurts have told no fewer than half a dozen lies over the course of the day today.
I mean, the online ordering stuff is true. Except that I do know the one from Best Buy would arrive on the 14th. Other lies of the day include:
- "I'm not going to Target."
- "We're not getting it today."
- "I don't know if you can get Halo2, too, just yet."
I can't wait for tomorrow even more than he can't wait. My quandary is this: Do we give him the gifts in the morning and lose him to the TV all day? Or wait until we're at the restaurant? Which is... oh, about 45 miles from here. Part of me wants to wake him at 12:24 AM like I used to do before he was a surly teen, love him up and then give him his gifts.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Baby Goat
When Tom and I first started hanging out, we did a lot of hiking in the local mountains.
***I always assumed hiking was done in the mountains until we went on a "hike" (walk, really) to the highest point in Wisconsin.
I've never been exceptionally steady on my feet, so leaping from this stone to that was never my gig. Tom, however, loves it. And he's good at it. In fact, I don't know if I've ever seen him fall. The occasional stumble, sure, but that's it. Tom said it's because he's part mountain goat. Ask him which animal he'd be if he could and it's a mountain goat.
Madelyn has definitely demonstrated her two-sided heritage. The first time we brought her to this home, she mastered the stairs. It's been two weeks and today she insisted that I hold her hands so she could walk up them. Of course the stairs are nearly as high as the length of her legs, so she has to swing her straight leg all the way around to the side and then up and over, but she did the whole flight.
We've unpacked 30 or 40 boxes, but we still have several sitting around here and there. One was in the living room, probably blocking her access to the wiring behind the TV stand. It's a regular banker box. Madelyn started figuring the thing out yesterday. Today she managed to climb up and have a seat. As Corey and I were debating whether I should let her do such things (you can guess where the protective big brother stands), it looked like Mad was going to fall right off because she was trying to sit down where there was no box. But she moved and we cheered. I was pointing out that we have to let her test things out or she'll never learn. Then, for reasons we'll never know be sure of (I'm guessing "testing gravity" was in there somewhere), she very slowly leaned all the way over to the side.
Mad's got a scrape on her temple. Mama, Daddy and Brother all had their hearts in their throats. And Brother spent the next half hour or so glaring and not talking to Mama.
Madelyn will be one in exactly one week. I can't even believe it. I looked on my MySpace blog to see what I'd done on this day last year. Tom and Corey set up the crib. I organized some of my belongings well enough that Tom made files for me, and we swapped out bookcases in our room, from an extra large that might fall on the baby (we had a cinderblock wall in the bedroom, so we couldn't anchor it) to a smaller one that held all of the books we'd gotten from a shower at work.
Here was my last line of that blog: I guess that’s enough for one very pregnant day. I can’t believe we’re into the single digits now. Eight days... and really, today’s pretty much over. I really can’t wait to meet this person!
***I always assumed hiking was done in the mountains until we went on a "hike" (walk, really) to the highest point in Wisconsin.
I've never been exceptionally steady on my feet, so leaping from this stone to that was never my gig. Tom, however, loves it. And he's good at it. In fact, I don't know if I've ever seen him fall. The occasional stumble, sure, but that's it. Tom said it's because he's part mountain goat. Ask him which animal he'd be if he could and it's a mountain goat.
Madelyn has definitely demonstrated her two-sided heritage. The first time we brought her to this home, she mastered the stairs. It's been two weeks and today she insisted that I hold her hands so she could walk up them. Of course the stairs are nearly as high as the length of her legs, so she has to swing her straight leg all the way around to the side and then up and over, but she did the whole flight.
We've unpacked 30 or 40 boxes, but we still have several sitting around here and there. One was in the living room, probably blocking her access to the wiring behind the TV stand. It's a regular banker box. Madelyn started figuring the thing out yesterday. Today she managed to climb up and have a seat. As Corey and I were debating whether I should let her do such things (you can guess where the protective big brother stands), it looked like Mad was going to fall right off because she was trying to sit down where there was no box. But she moved and we cheered. I was pointing out that we have to let her test things out or she'll never learn. Then, for reasons we'll never know be sure of (I'm guessing "testing gravity" was in there somewhere), she very slowly leaned all the way over to the side.
Mad's got a scrape on her temple. Mama, Daddy and Brother all had their hearts in their throats. And Brother spent the next half hour or so glaring and not talking to Mama.
Madelyn will be one in exactly one week. I can't even believe it. I looked on my MySpace blog to see what I'd done on this day last year. Tom and Corey set up the crib. I organized some of my belongings well enough that Tom made files for me, and we swapped out bookcases in our room, from an extra large that might fall on the baby (we had a cinderblock wall in the bedroom, so we couldn't anchor it) to a smaller one that held all of the books we'd gotten from a shower at work.
Here was my last line of that blog: I guess that’s enough for one very pregnant day. I can’t believe we’re into the single digits now. Eight days... and really, today’s pretty much over. I really can’t wait to meet this person!
We didn't know if the baby in my womb was Madelyn Kenzie or Oliver Canyon. It was a pretty exciting time. I worked halfway through that Wednesday. I was so afraid that not having enough scheduled things to do would result in the same "I'm-off-work-and-whew!-I'm-exhausted" feelings I had with Corey. I left work three weeks in advance of his due date. The next morning I felt like I had been concreted to my bed.
This time, I even scheduled an early morning manicure for my first day off. Bev massaged my hands in hopes of helping to stimulate labor. Then I took my car in to get the oil changed. While there I walked a few blocks away in not the best part of town to get a late breakfast. That was an experience! It's an area sometimes known for prostitution, but who'd have thunk that a nine-months pregnant woman wearing jeans and a collared T-shirt would garner any attention.
That evening Tom and I were laying in bed, chatting about our days before he headed off for tennis and I went to the grocery store. Sometime around 5:30 I had my first painful contraction. About 36 hours later, she was born and we knew her name.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Do Over
Man this was a rough weekend! We started some major projects, but really haven't finished anything. Tom was feeling pretty discouraged about his drilling abilities, and I kept reminding him that these are learned skills; people get paid to know how to do that stuff. We've never had a big reason to learn, so now we're stretching our brains.
As I worked along on the priming and painting, I was thinking about other things. Maybe that's why I didn't get as much done as I'd hoped. However, it was all worth it because one of the things I pondered (again) was my birthday. So in a relatively happy moment (right after he'd finally gotten about 99% of the paint off the patio), I told Tom that I should really get a do-over for my birthday. I explained that if he didn't do something to make up for last week I'd be forced to buy him a pack of Altoids for his birthday, and that I wouldn't be able to tell anybody about it and feel good about myself... especially his mother. We chose next week on Monday night as his time to create a lovely evening for me. Naturally I'd forgotten that I'll be teaching on Monday nights now, so I had to text him today and ask for a new do over date. We'll see what happens.
Back to work... by Sunday evening, I was feeling less than thrilled with our progress. The one thing I did think was cool is that one of our cupboards was finally done (well, minus the inside of the door, but that'll be a snap). The color is gorgeous. If I have a spare second, I'll snap some pics and put them up here so you can check it all out. That'll probably be after we're done. Back to the cabinet... I had done all the touching up I could see the need for and had Tom double-check me. It was done. I removed the tape from the back... where the refrigerator will be covering. It came off beautifully! I wouldn't say that my heart was pounding; it was more a quiet satisfaction. I pulled the tape from the bottom, which was no big deal because I'd accidentally pulled it loose earlier. Then I removed the tape from the front.
Oh holy hell, it pulled paint off with it!!! Argh!
There are a few theories and at least twice as many remedies that people have showered on us today to explain and resolve this situation. All I know is that was the moment that Tom and I switched places. I declared that I was "going away" and promptly took myself upstairs. Unfortunately I didn't bring my cell phone, which needed to be charged, so I had to go back down, where I declared that I was "not staying. I'm still going away." I got into bed. Tom was there a few minutes later, snuggling me and telling me we'd get it all worked out soon enough.
Yeah, Kim. I think you're right.
As I worked along on the priming and painting, I was thinking about other things. Maybe that's why I didn't get as much done as I'd hoped. However, it was all worth it because one of the things I pondered (again) was my birthday. So in a relatively happy moment (right after he'd finally gotten about 99% of the paint off the patio), I told Tom that I should really get a do-over for my birthday. I explained that if he didn't do something to make up for last week I'd be forced to buy him a pack of Altoids for his birthday, and that I wouldn't be able to tell anybody about it and feel good about myself... especially his mother. We chose next week on Monday night as his time to create a lovely evening for me. Naturally I'd forgotten that I'll be teaching on Monday nights now, so I had to text him today and ask for a new do over date. We'll see what happens.
Back to work... by Sunday evening, I was feeling less than thrilled with our progress. The one thing I did think was cool is that one of our cupboards was finally done (well, minus the inside of the door, but that'll be a snap). The color is gorgeous. If I have a spare second, I'll snap some pics and put them up here so you can check it all out. That'll probably be after we're done. Back to the cabinet... I had done all the touching up I could see the need for and had Tom double-check me. It was done. I removed the tape from the back... where the refrigerator will be covering. It came off beautifully! I wouldn't say that my heart was pounding; it was more a quiet satisfaction. I pulled the tape from the bottom, which was no big deal because I'd accidentally pulled it loose earlier. Then I removed the tape from the front.
Oh holy hell, it pulled paint off with it!!! Argh!
There are a few theories and at least twice as many remedies that people have showered on us today to explain and resolve this situation. All I know is that was the moment that Tom and I switched places. I declared that I was "going away" and promptly took myself upstairs. Unfortunately I didn't bring my cell phone, which needed to be charged, so I had to go back down, where I declared that I was "not staying. I'm still going away." I got into bed. Tom was there a few minutes later, snuggling me and telling me we'd get it all worked out soon enough.
Yeah, Kim. I think you're right.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Family Tradition
My in-laws moved into their first home on my mother-in-law's 30th birthday. Tom and I have been together for about nine years, and I've probably heard this story a couple of times a year. I don't mind actually; it's a cool story. It's come up more frequently with our home buying excursion. Why? Well, my birthday was on Monday. (No, not my 30th.)
I have complex feelings about my birthday. When I was a kid it was easier for my parents and grandparents to have a combination celebration for my mom, sister and me. My birthday is first, then Mom's on the 6th and Shelly's on the 21st.
The thing is, Shelly's birthday would often come right after my parents received their tax refund. So we'd have some sort of family only group thing, then there would be money for a trip to Farrell's, and Shelly could bring a friend or two along. I've never been upset with Shelly about this. She and I are the same age, and neither one of us tried to win out over the other. Still, it was hard not to notice. One year I did get to invite friends, but I froze. I invited my best friend, Mary, who was like part of our family and probably would have been there anyway. I didn't invite anyone else.
And when it came to gifts... I know I received them from my parents. I know I liked them and appreciated them. But I also remember that things were always done at the last minute. I know this because of the countless gifts "wrapped" in a rolled up paper bag. For some reason I often had a hard time asking for anything special. Pretty sure that it comes from my mom. I could tear through the Toys R Us catalog and make long lists, but I couldn't say "I want a Walkman" to save my life. On the flip side, giving gifts that I was sure other people would like was at least as difficult. As a teen I broke up with boys before any gift-giving occasions.
Once I realized that, I tried to work it out within myself. Still, Corey had 10 full years of big birthday parties. He'd probably still be having them, but he was such a butt at his 10th that I vowed never to do it again until he reaches a milestone birthday.
These days I try to take a more pragmatic approach. I think I'm a pretty good gift giver. I do avoid the office birthday celebrations, but that's only because this office has some weird things. For example, the restaurant is chosen based on what's most convenient for certain people, rather than whether the birthday girl likes it or not.
When it comes to my birthday, I tend to revert to my single mom days. "I don't want anything, but I could use XYZ." The problem is that I also resent that I do this and no one else in the family does it. It's not like we're poor and I need to do it; it's a habit. However, when you're buying a home or having a baby at birthday time, it seems especially hard to say, "Please treat me special."
Last year I was more than eight months pregnant on my birthday. My mom gave me a gift card to get my hair done and my mother-in-law gave me a check. I used it for baby stuff that we needed. I honestly don't recall what Tom got me. I just remember that it was Easter and I made dinner for my family and my mom without any help.
For his birthday I arranged for us to see a Cubs/Dodgers game... it happened to fall on his birthday, so that was extra cool. But you can't just show up at the stadium on game day and get three good seats together, so I bought those tickets a couple months in advance. The year before I happened to hear that Prairie Home Companion was taping at the Greek Theatre, also on his birthday. I believe I purchased those tickets several months ahead.
So my birthday was on Monday. Tom had frequently pointed out in advance that I was getting a house for my birthday just as his mom had long ago. I reminded him that he was also getting the house, and that having a major event happen right before one's birthday shouldn't mean that a person's birthday wasn't celebrated. I had asked for the soundtrack to Juno, so not exactly extravagant.
By noon that day, the only people who had wished me a happy birthday were my coworkers. They offered to take me to lunch, but I declined. Things had gotten a bit screwed up with the move, so I ended up spending a lot of time Monday cleaning the apartment with my mom and Corey. Tom was supposed to meet me there at 3:00 to wrap everything up. We spoke at 10 'til, and he was just getting ready to leave work. Over 90 minutes later, I was pissed and out of there. We spoke on the phone and he complained about having so much to do still... as if we hadn't done everything but load the remaining crap into his truck... we'd even pulled up most of the carpet since I knew it was being replaced! I "thanked" him for the lovely birthday and he whined that he was out running an errand related to my birthday and that was why he was late.
And what was this 90 minute errand? (Okay, I exaggerate a little... it was probably a 40 minute drive from work to the apartment.) He bought me a card, in which he did write a lovely note and not one, but two packs of TIC-TACS! The only saving grace is that they were the Cherry/Passion Fruit packs, not breath mints. And then he didn't have the nerve to hand them to me. He left them with the card at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of making dinner for everybody, I had a couple slices of cold pizza by myself.
Disappointed is not the word to describe my feelings. Pissed scratches the surface. And the thing is, I don't care how much money he spends on me. Again, Juno soundtrack. Not asking for a lot here. But you have to figure you're not going to walk into any music store that still happens to be standing and pick it up. You have to put a little effort in... special order it, or buy it online. Think ahead a little.
Here's the thing, too: Tom used to give wonderful gifts. They were well-thought out and lovely.
We haven't spoken about it. I probably won't bring it up, either. And as much as I'd like to, I just can't see handing him a couple boxes of Altoids for his birthday in a couple months.
I have complex feelings about my birthday. When I was a kid it was easier for my parents and grandparents to have a combination celebration for my mom, sister and me. My birthday is first, then Mom's on the 6th and Shelly's on the 21st.
The thing is, Shelly's birthday would often come right after my parents received their tax refund. So we'd have some sort of family only group thing, then there would be money for a trip to Farrell's, and Shelly could bring a friend or two along. I've never been upset with Shelly about this. She and I are the same age, and neither one of us tried to win out over the other. Still, it was hard not to notice. One year I did get to invite friends, but I froze. I invited my best friend, Mary, who was like part of our family and probably would have been there anyway. I didn't invite anyone else.
And when it came to gifts... I know I received them from my parents. I know I liked them and appreciated them. But I also remember that things were always done at the last minute. I know this because of the countless gifts "wrapped" in a rolled up paper bag. For some reason I often had a hard time asking for anything special. Pretty sure that it comes from my mom. I could tear through the Toys R Us catalog and make long lists, but I couldn't say "I want a Walkman" to save my life. On the flip side, giving gifts that I was sure other people would like was at least as difficult. As a teen I broke up with boys before any gift-giving occasions.
Once I realized that, I tried to work it out within myself. Still, Corey had 10 full years of big birthday parties. He'd probably still be having them, but he was such a butt at his 10th that I vowed never to do it again until he reaches a milestone birthday.
These days I try to take a more pragmatic approach. I think I'm a pretty good gift giver. I do avoid the office birthday celebrations, but that's only because this office has some weird things. For example, the restaurant is chosen based on what's most convenient for certain people, rather than whether the birthday girl likes it or not.
When it comes to my birthday, I tend to revert to my single mom days. "I don't want anything, but I could use XYZ." The problem is that I also resent that I do this and no one else in the family does it. It's not like we're poor and I need to do it; it's a habit. However, when you're buying a home or having a baby at birthday time, it seems especially hard to say, "Please treat me special."
Last year I was more than eight months pregnant on my birthday. My mom gave me a gift card to get my hair done and my mother-in-law gave me a check. I used it for baby stuff that we needed. I honestly don't recall what Tom got me. I just remember that it was Easter and I made dinner for my family and my mom without any help.
For his birthday I arranged for us to see a Cubs/Dodgers game... it happened to fall on his birthday, so that was extra cool. But you can't just show up at the stadium on game day and get three good seats together, so I bought those tickets a couple months in advance. The year before I happened to hear that Prairie Home Companion was taping at the Greek Theatre, also on his birthday. I believe I purchased those tickets several months ahead.
So my birthday was on Monday. Tom had frequently pointed out in advance that I was getting a house for my birthday just as his mom had long ago. I reminded him that he was also getting the house, and that having a major event happen right before one's birthday shouldn't mean that a person's birthday wasn't celebrated. I had asked for the soundtrack to Juno, so not exactly extravagant.
By noon that day, the only people who had wished me a happy birthday were my coworkers. They offered to take me to lunch, but I declined. Things had gotten a bit screwed up with the move, so I ended up spending a lot of time Monday cleaning the apartment with my mom and Corey. Tom was supposed to meet me there at 3:00 to wrap everything up. We spoke at 10 'til, and he was just getting ready to leave work. Over 90 minutes later, I was pissed and out of there. We spoke on the phone and he complained about having so much to do still... as if we hadn't done everything but load the remaining crap into his truck... we'd even pulled up most of the carpet since I knew it was being replaced! I "thanked" him for the lovely birthday and he whined that he was out running an errand related to my birthday and that was why he was late.
And what was this 90 minute errand? (Okay, I exaggerate a little... it was probably a 40 minute drive from work to the apartment.) He bought me a card, in which he did write a lovely note and not one, but two packs of TIC-TACS! The only saving grace is that they were the Cherry/Passion Fruit packs, not breath mints. And then he didn't have the nerve to hand them to me. He left them with the card at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of making dinner for everybody, I had a couple slices of cold pizza by myself.
Disappointed is not the word to describe my feelings. Pissed scratches the surface. And the thing is, I don't care how much money he spends on me. Again, Juno soundtrack. Not asking for a lot here. But you have to figure you're not going to walk into any music store that still happens to be standing and pick it up. You have to put a little effort in... special order it, or buy it online. Think ahead a little.
Here's the thing, too: Tom used to give wonderful gifts. They were well-thought out and lovely.
We haven't spoken about it. I probably won't bring it up, either. And as much as I'd like to, I just can't see handing him a couple boxes of Altoids for his birthday in a couple months.
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