Livin' High Livin' Low

Before I left the house this morning, Willem had injured himself in four places on his face. It took two separate incidents to achieve this. His determination to go from infant to toddler is paying off in scratches. Last night, he was hanging out in the loo like it was happy hour at this favorite bar and I left the room for a second, just a split second, when I heard his melon hit the floor and there he was spread eagle and working on a scream that was buried under deep inhalations. My heart split in to a million pieces and I scooped him up before the first wail was unleashed. I fear many days of rescuing my growing and reckless little boy.

We didn’t do much last night. I was feeling like hell. “Thanks allergy season!” Our dinner for the evening in front of the boob tube was Amy’s Vegetable Lasagna which is WONDERFUL!












I couldn’t make veggie lasagna this good or this relatively healthy. After baby crashed for the night, I put my cranky butt to bed and called it a day but not before I decided to fire my current hair stylist. Yeah, I know, I’ve sung the salon’s praises in the past but the location isn’t convenient for me, the cost is equivalent to 13 jumbo packages of diapers and my stylist is always running behind schedule. My appointment was cancelled yesterday due to a family emergency (not my family - I do hope everything is okay) so, after reading some reviews online, I made an appointment at Sage. I’m getting my locks cut above the shoulders a la Nicole Richie so my fingers are crossed that it will go well. It’s a lot to ask of someone who has never cut my hair and doesn’t know me. The girl I’m going to uses a dry cut method (sounds like hay baling) and as described to me, allows for better understanding of the natural movement of the hair and of its texture, cow licks, etc. I’ll let you know how it goes.

We head out of town tomorrow for a much needed vacation (at least I know I need one – daddy’s ending one and starting another – it’s hard to be daddy). We’re going to the Texas coast where it’s forecasted rain the whole time we are there. I hope for the sake of my sanity this will not be the case. When it rains at said coast, there is nothing to do and I’m not being overdramatic here. There’s only so much Monopoly, Scrabble and drinking in the closet one can do before laws get broken. We’re going with my brother-in-law and his brood so that’s a high note. I just hope cabin fever doesn’t get me banished from the family for good. Stay tuned for the highlight reel.

The Good Ol' Days

This is from an email I received from a girlfriend and it really resonated with me. Brought back lots of memories that I will post about later. Reminisce and enjoy...


TO ALL THE KIDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE 1930s, 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s...

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.

As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because......

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 150 channels on cable, no video tape/DVD movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays,made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them.

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

And YOU are one of them!

CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good and while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.

Free To Be Me

Are all babies obsessed by cell phones, remote controls, and car keys? Aren’t these the things in our life we touch THE MOST? Germs, germs galore!

I have a cell phone that has a charm on it (it’s a totally cool Goth Lolita Hello Kitty charm that my brother-in-law bought in Japan and brought back to me…who cares that a 37-year-old woman has a Goth Lolita Hello Kitty charm dangling from her phone, right?)














and Willem is constantly tickling his tonsils with the little plastic feline. Removing the phone from his grip elicits screams of profanity spoken in his native baby tongue and tears the size of beach balls sprout from his eyes. I hold my breath, wait for the perfect moment to give him the ol’ switcheroo and shove something safer in his hand like a toilet plunger. He then scouts for the TV remotes like a heat-seeking missile and promptly shoves them into his mouth rendering them slimy, sticky, and dripping with saliva. Ditto for the keys. It’s gooville up in here.

Speaking of goo, the housekeeper that showed up a couple of weeks ago and melted on my front porch while waiting for someone to let her in came to clean my mansion today. OMG! It was flawlessly scrubbed, even the baseboards! Marlene, who is from Brazil, is a keeper! She’s meticulous about making grime disappear and busted her tail for four hours making magic happen and I didn't know I needed that much magic. I even walked around tonight shoeless which I never do. I’m a houseshoe freak but couldn’t resist giving the concrete floors a run. I’m so pleased! Hooray!

Tonight was a glorious event. I spent two and a half productive hours with baby after work watching him tear apart his room and talk to himself in my just cleaned full-length mirror before he drifted off while nursing at 7:30. I was like, “ Now what in the hell do I do? The house is already clean!” So I opened a bottle of wine, heated up my Indian TV dinner and ordered a movie on Pay Per View. Check, check, and check. I devoured some ice cream, watched the entire movie uninterrupted and am now ready to turn the page of this day. An evening to myself on this level hasn’t happened since baby was born. It was almost as good as when I was living in LA and I had a Chihuahua named Tinkerbelle and I said, “That’s hot,” a lot. No, wait. That wasn’t my life.

Keepin' It Real

My beloved husband is off hooking various parts of his body with his fly rod (sounds dirty, huh?) and giving some white water rapids a good spanking in Wyoming this week. He took the same trip last year with his siblings and I have yet to go (or be invited, come to think of it). That’s okay, I’m keeping tally and some day real soon, I’m heading to an all-expenses-paid spa excursion somewhere for a week where all of the guys look like Benicio Del Toro and are mind readers. All of my needs will be attended to by just a mere batting of my eyes. With Daddy's absence, the kiddo and I get into our routine known as “D.I.D.I.T.S.O.L.O.” or “Doing It Daddiless In The Sanctuary Of (our) Little Oasis.” We share dinner together in front of the TV on the floor, we swim in his kiddie pool, we go on long walks, we turn up his goofy sing-a-long Cds and add to the noise with the banging of pots, pans, spoons and whatever else happens to be in the way. This morning we got an early start and were camped out in front of the grocery store waiting for it to open. I blasted through the empty isles like a suburban mom on the hike and bike trail. W sucked all of the color out of a dried apricot while I picked out strange ice cream flavors and cookies (for me!). It’s wonderful being there with only a handful of other warm bodies milling about.

We didn’t do much this weekend. I bargained for two naps on Saturday and slept soundly each time only to awake and feel like I had been on a bender. I think the heat plays a role in this unsatisfying result. It just leeches energy and hydration.

W has become more adventurous in the walking department and slinked along the walls of the house for hours. I’d have to go looking for him after a brief turn of the back. He’d see me, let go and lurch forward with a huge grin like he hadn’t seen me in ages, all giddy and goofy with his effort to embrace me (swoon). He had the “Look Mom, no hands!” expression whenever he tottled my way. Right now the issue is momentum which he recently learned to control with his push toy but now needs to apply to his freestyle walking. In the meantime, I’m throwing myself in the way of danger to protect his tiny frame and giant noggin’.

Saw a frustrating but good movie this weekend called Caché (Hidden). It’s one of them thar movies you gotta read unless you speak French. I love subtitled films because when I have to read while viewing, that’s one less sense out of the five that I have available to the distractions whirling in my living room. I do have some sort of peripheral “hubby’s falling asleep during the movie” sense that makes me terrorize him when he dozes off. I despise it when my date drifts off and then wakes to ask “What just happened?” or “How much did I miss?” THAT makes me crazy! Usually my response is pure fabrication. Anyway, back to the movie…evidently this particular director loves the theme of unfinished business in his films and often doesn’t tie up any loose ends or seek out closure for his characters or viewers for that matter. It is the “whodunit” platform without any answers. I wasn’t aware of his style, this being the first film by him (Michael Haneke) that I’ve seen. I consider myself to be an excellent watcher of films and I don’t usually miss a beat. This movie had my marching band of comprehension all over the field. It was frustrating yet satisfying in a psychological f*#k you sort of way. There is no ending, simple as that and to make things more confusing, you’re never really sure which point of view you’re observing. Confusing? Yes. Satisfying? Not really. Fun? I think so. Check it out. Let me know what you think.

Oh geez! I forgot to mention that earth mama nanny has been gone for over a week now. She’s off to get married and spend some time with family and then she will return to Austin to move into an apartment not so close to the house anymore. I fear she may ultimately be on her way out. Just a hunch. In the meantime, we’ve hired the most wonderful stand-in with a website for her babysitting scheduling that totally sold me! Meet her at www.missjohanna.com. Willem loves her and she’s very hands on, caring, creative, and smart with de’ bebe. I’m lucky to have found her and I’m willing to share her, I think.

This is Willem working on his siphoning technique.

































Here he is coming out of the loo. It's one of his favorite rooms. Just like dad.


















This is one of his nursing faces. I can tell you right now that letting go of this moment is going to be dang hard when it's time to wean.

Repeat Offender

I’m so overwhelmed by the amount of blogs I’m reading right now and I don’t have that kind of time, people, NOT AN EXTRA MINUTE! Just when I get all cozy with the familiars of one blog, a link on their site leads me to another one and another one and another one and I’m sucked in. I wouldn’t say I’m addicted because I will go days without checking in to see if I’ve missed anything but, dang it, my Bookmark – Kids category is all full up! I never got in to soap operas, reality TV programming, or any weekly series on the boob tube but I find myself reading and reading and smiling and frowning and hoping and wishing and cussing and good grief, it’s too much! What has the internet done to me? I seriously wish I could stop but it’s not that simple and I can’t explain why. But keep blogging ‘cause I’ll keep reading.

I’ve been lucky, lucky enough to have gone out on the town two nights in a row so far this week! Tuesday was the birthday of a girlfriend I’ve known since first grade. We indulged our debaucherous desires at Cork & Co., a newly opened wine bar downtown and launched into the evening by sampling the “Effervescent” champagne flight, a collection of cheeses with nuts and dried cherries and capped it off with truffles. "Hello unfriendly bikini thighs!" They have a box of cards on each table stuffed with questions to ask members of your party. It was an interesting way to reminisce and get reacquainted. We then finished the evening at Kenichi where we were treated to sushi gratis (she works at a downtown hotel and the owners owe her some favors in the form of free eats and adult beverages). The meal turned in to porno sushi very quickly as they had a rowdy chef visiting from Japan who talked about his “California Roll” every chance he could, greeted guests with a zucchini handshake, and organized a naughty birthday dessert complete with two scoops of ice cream, fried shreds of coconut and a giant fried banana all arranged to resemble the male gentailia. I now wonder what sort of perks my girlfriend offers at her hotel. It was nuts (no pun intended)! Last night, I was out with the hubby and I made a return trip to Cork with him in tow. We indulged in red wine flights and played with the question cards on the table. I think those things are a great way for a couple that’s been together for a while to discuss other topics outside of the norm (baby, what’s for dinner, grocery lists…), thoughts, beliefs, philosophies, etc. The final question of the evening that I drew was “What is the most difficult thing you have ever done?” Hubby answered piano playing, a challenge that he has been working on for some time with great results but it’s an ongoing learning curve. I answered, “Living through my parents divorce,” and it wasn’t until I spoke those words that I realized how much that event had informed my entire life thus far. The break up was a moment when all that I knew, trusted, felt protected by, believed in, and loved turned on its head and seemed unfamiliar and uncertain. I was about 11 or 12. Suddenly everything was presented in divisions of time, strange locations, new homes, unfamiliar faces, bundles of emotion and guilt. The landscape of my world changed and all sense of reality was altered. I guess I realize the significance of this now because I am a mother and I know how much my son depends on me for everything. It would break my heart to ever have to take any of the things I am here to provide him away or change them without complete disclosure. I don't know. It's complicated. Life is complicated but I am doing my best.

Downward Facing Goose Egg

Willem took it upon his tiny self to be super baby this weekend and taught himself how to both crawl and walk. Saturday he was a bundle of emotions as he got up on all fours and put one wobbly limb in front of the other. Sometimes it thrilled him and other times it just wrecked his world. “Mama, can’t you see how this is killing meeeee?” Sunday he decided to turn away from me and head straight for the (padded) corner of the bed. He toddled about six steps and…whaump…took a nice body slam into the comforter. He likes body slams. We do pretend ones all of the time. Any chance he got, he'd leave the safety of the perch he was clinging to and venture off. The walking and crawling had us giddy and amazed but, really, it's too much too soon.

Since he had figured out how to make himself more mobile, he had the issue of learning how to go from one to the other. The crawling led to him lifting his buns in the air in a mini-downward facing dog (or puppy, in his case)...







but the next move eluded him. What would generally follow would be a face first splat on to the floor. After about two goose eggs to the noggin and a sore nose, he decided it was going to be either walking or crawling but no conversions from one the to the other.

I noticed for the first time how big his feet really are when I bought him some sandals to wear (at TARGET!). Dr. G, his pediatrician, said we’d better start putting them on him now or we’ll never be able to keep shoes on his person. I laughed my buns off as W tried to walk with the new footwear on his pads. He shook them like a cat with a rubber band around its feet.

Saturday morning I spent about 2.5 hours visiting with a dear friend who I hadn’t seen in ages. We met up for caffeine and pastries and some much needed conversation. I had no idea the time had flown by so quickly until one of the employees of the place came into the dining area and announced very loudly “Is there a Mrs. Fantasy here (okay, so he used my real name but for Googling sake, I’m not going to publish it here)? You’re husband is on the phone.” I didn’t flinch but just looked at my friend and without words, our meaningful stares at each other said a million unmentionables. I grabbed my cell and called home and was greeted with “Are you ever coming home?” It took everything I had to not say “I’m not and in fact, we’re loading up the car right now with drugs and money we just laundered and we’re headed south. Kiss baby for me. I’ll send postcards.”

We didn’t do much for Father’s Day. Dada was returning home from an overnight gig later that afternoon so W and I just made sure he could do whatever he wanted the rest of the day. We did have a card for him from W that he signed along with getting purple marker in the corners of his mouth, on my arms, and on his walking toy. Seriously, I was right there as I held the card in front of the marker in his hand just to get a few artistic swipes from him but, man, he’s fast with the oral desires. Speaking of that, he’s old enough now to know that I am the official carrier of nice, warm milk and chases me like a bloodhound. His verbal cue is a series of fast-paced breaths but now he’s getting physical and goes for any visible flesh with his hickey-making machine of a mouth. Forget low cut blouses. The idea sends him into a dither. I guess this is where it all starts. He gets it honest.

Just As I Am

I thought for sure at the ripe old age of 37 I would have so many things about myself figured out but I’m here to confess that is not the case...and I'm kinda pissed about it. I am wishy-washy. I get bored easily. I am not a leader but a team player (to put a positive spin on it). I can’t commit fully too much. I have a short attention span. I am a multi-tasker to a fault. I don’t prioritize well. I have very noisy internal dialogue with myself way too often. I am, however, trying to work on these and other things. One of the quickest ways to dig through the muck of it all is to have a baby, but before I say more let me mention that I am married to a very creative, distracted, frustrated artist. I only bring this up because people of this nature need constant attention and adoration to help them stay on track, to encourage them to forge ahead, to let them know that when they pause for a moment out of exhaustion or rejection or confusion you are there for them at the drop of a hat. Having a baby, for me, moved all of my attention in another direction, shifted it to the wee one that needed me at every one of his tiny whims. Proud papa has been waiting patiently for wifey for the past nine months and what he does get is usually in the sloppy seconds department. I don’t mean for it to be that way. It just happens. On top of that, he has had to tweak his natural instincts from being on his own watch and doing things as he has the creative urge to being ready to come running when I need him to or when I have a moment to spend with him. As I begin to wean baby and create more time for myself to take better care of my mind, body and spirit, I want to find a balance in all that I do, to the best of my ability of course. My son had given me a crash course in changing all of the character traits listed above that I abhor about myself. He keeps me in the moment, honest, and aware. It has been wonderful and hard and sometimes I miss the lessons entirely but I am trying, trying to be a better person, to embrace life tighter, love my marriage deeper, and laugh a whole lot more.

Estrogen In A Sake Cup

Last night was date night with a girlfriend of mine who I never see much anymore because I am a working mom and she is newly involved. This fella’s arrival in her world has been a long time coming and we have talked about his type for ages. He’s everything she could wish for and more plus he can put up with her sharp tongue and sassy fits. It just rolls off of his tall 6’6 back.

We hooked up for sushi at Kyoto, a downtown establishment complete with an area where you kick off your shoes and sit on cushions on the floor next to a very low table. They have a mouthwatering 45-minute sushi happy hour but they won’t seat you or serve you unless the entire party is there ready to nosh. Of course I was running late b/c daddy needed to go pick up his frou-frou dinner-to-go and then I couldn’t find a freakin’ parking spot downtown. Paying $5 to park is a crime so I drove around and around burning about $5 in gas. Since she and I are sushi vets and love so much of the same fare, we launched into our order complete with a pint of beer each AND a carafe of hot sake. The seaweed salad, edemame, rolls, and raw fish pieces flowed, as did the conversation. It was one of those dining/catching up experiences where stories are told and shock follows. Having conversations with this gal in particular is always a hoot because she’s so detailed and graphic (Gentlemen, if you’ve had sex with her, I know ALL about you.). We then strolled over to Jo’s Coffee for some cozy outdoor entertainment and chat. I ran into an old boyfriend and we talked about days of yore. He told stories of things that I had completely forgotten about and it was comforting in a homemade chicken ‘n dumpling’s sort of way. Break ups always suck but it’s nice when you can cross paths, reminisce and laugh about it, no?

So I hired a housekeeper to come to my house today to do the deep cleaning she claimed she could do. I seriously think this woman was totally high the whole time she was here (crystal meth, anyone?) which was all total two hours and she "cleaned" two properties. I don't think so. She dumped some carpet powder on the rugs and tried to vacuum it up but I found lines like cut cocaine around the fringe of the carpet underneath. I don't want the babies crawling in that! Some mirrors were wiped, others not, smudge marks covered the countertops in a half-hearted attempt to wipe them. I swear they spelled her name...R-O-B...it's just awful. The stairs weren't vacuumed, she must've just snorted the crumbs off of the baby's rug, and there was still a ring around the tub. Can't win for losing.

Baby Talk

The housekeeper never got into the house this afternoon. I thought I’d covered all of the bases but ‘lo and behold the poor thing melted on my front porch for 35 minutes and finally gave up. Where was the nanny? Nothing worse than expecting a clean house only to come home to the same dirty piles of dirt, more dirt and other incarnations of dirt.

Baby woke at 5:40 this morning but I was sorta grateful because I had completely soaked the right side of my pajama top with baby hooch. Lying in a river of leche on a fluffly down mattress is really gnarly. I think he could smell me like a fresh baked apple pie because he got super emotional as I made my way down the stairs. I had my fingers crossed that he’d fill his tiny belly and drift back off to sleep but instead he poked at my face (in the dark, mind you because the sun HASN’T COME UP YET!), clapped his hands and sang songs in his own little language. We got up and went into the living room where I proceeded to recline on the sofa as he cruised the furniture picking up things babies shouldn’t play with…sunglasses, a glass of melted ice, yesterday’s paper, my car keys. I had closed the one eye I had open that was watching him when all of a sudden there was a huge breeze and blinding light. W had found the remote to the fan and turned it to 11. He was standing there looking up with the silent surprise like the boy in the Close Encounters of The Third Kind when he sees the spaceship hovering above for the first time. It doesn’t take much to amuse the little guy. Mommy was mildly amused.

Gogo made a guest appearance yesterday. She and her boyfriend had been in a nearby town for a wedding. When she called to let me know she was on her way she says “Where are you?” I says “I’m at Target.” Duh, mom. I got Willem a blue swimming noodle that I cut in half since it didn’t fit in his bitty pool. It’s the perfect teething toy for the two pearls that are making their way beyond the gumline. I also got some stuff for the housekeeper but we all know that was a waste. I’m so bummed. The biggest event of the weekend was when Willem identified a kitty cat I pointed out to him. I said “Willem, look at the kitty kitty, pretty kitty,” and he chimed in with “Kee, kee, kee, kee,” and said it whenever I asked him about the kitty. It was awesome! His third word after “Dada” and “Mama”, in that order. He’s doesn’t say “Mama” much but says “Dada” all of the time. It usually starts out with a kind and gentle “Daa daa daa” but always evolves into a militant “Da da da da da!” with a crazy wide-eyed look on his face and spit flying.

We're going to get on this baby sign language stuff stat. W’s effort to communicate via blood curdling screams is horrifying to say the least. I don't care if he first learns how to flip us off to let me know he needs something. Anything is better than screaming. He had his 9-month well check today and he’s in the 25% for his weight, 50% for height (no change in either of those departments) and 90% for his head! I’m special ordering him a helmet b/c this learning to walk thing is going be scary. He has mastered the push/walking toy thing that earlier had him running and weaving out of control like a drunken frat boy. He has figured out that he controls the speed but what eludes him is how to get out of a corner or detach it from chair legs. He successfully gets us to help him out by, you guessed it, screaming like a freaked out girl.

Damien Omen Baby

Something has happened to my sweet wonderful, gentle son. He has been filled with the spirit of a demonic gremlin. Not only was he exceedingly clingy today but he had some moments that allowed me a possible peek into a disturbing future with this kid. Here he is just before the possession. Note the malicious look in his eyes...



And this is what followed! Can you believe it? He's NINE MONTHS OLD!!! Have I bred a nasty male little version of Veruca Salt?



On a heavenly note, daddy made this for dinner and it's our new all time favorite. Please give it a try! It's one of those dishes where you keep fishing for every little morsel and you don't want it to end. I am blissfully stuffed and relaxed now. A much needed thing after a day with demon screecher spawn.

Just Lysol

Okay people, dad and I need some help. Since I work a regular job with those pesky 40 required hours of work weekly for the kick ass health insurance bennys, I have specific vacation days (sort of) to take. Pops, on the other hand, being a stay at home musician (Ha! You thought I was going to say SAHD but he comes and goes as he pleases all day long) can carve out days, weeks, months even to go to magical places with topless waitresses and free high speed internet. *Note to self: Open strip club with free wireless and make a mil. ANYWAY…we have been struggling with the decision of where to go for the 4th of July holiday with baby. I always root for a beach scene but, for me, not just any beach. It must be warm enough to go swim in the water and teeming with those helpful cabana boys. Santa Cruz is out, honey, sorry. We tried to book something in Playa del Carmen but a flight there is a jillion dollars. We decided to try and use our frequent flyer miles but of course, since it’s a significant holiday for pyromanics, there’s a black out on free seats. Port A is our usual haunt but we don’t want to be repetitive and besides, the cabin is rented already. What I’m asking for are some travel ideas from you. It doesn’t necessarily have to be baby-oriented either. Going to the grocery store or the neighborhood pool is a vaca to the wee one. We have about 5 days to travel. ANY trip ideas will be considered because I am at a loss (except those involving motorcycles, bungee jumping, sky diving, Mickey Mouse, lap dances or anchovies).

Monday greets the arrival of…*queue trumpets here…MY CLEANING LADY! Thank you to hubby’s mom for making it happen, i.e. she hassled my better half about the fact that he’s incredibly messy and I work full time and take care of the kid and run most of the errands and keep us in toilet paper and paper towels and clean clothes while working events for clients who suck open bars dry. To pay for it though, we have to give up some sort of expense so I’m willing to part with one of my Target trips a month. Just one though.

What A Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Today is the one year anniversary of my blog and it’s been one helluva year. Let’s recap, shall we?

June of last year, I was six months preggers. This bump was around that time…
















I had no idea what was in store for this me in the months to come and for what would happen to this bod afterwards. Here’s a later look…












Yikes, no? I was one of those basketball bearing mamas but that didn't make it any easier. I was front loaded, not wide loaded.

I escaped the stretch marks but inherited a road map of spider and varicose veins. It's impossible to avoid growing a person under your flesh without some sort of repercussion.

This is daddy and I before baby, all giddy and expectant and completely unarmed for this tiny army of one...












This is us right after the army arrived. Can you say “shell shocked” (but very happy)?















He came into the world like this…











And is the center of my world like this…













Last year we began the horrific task of remodeling our craphole hamlet. It started out like this…












Today, it's our funky and fabulous mansion. Barney, the dinosaur, only wishes he could live there. The yard is our next project, God help us. I’m glad we’re getting ready to do it in the MIDDLE OF SUMMER!












We traveled to Spain with our infant boy in November while braving the freezing temps but embraced the insane beauty (and walked our asses off!)…












We visited Marfa (ahhhh…)…












Swam in a Kentucky body of water…












And strolled the beach in Port A many times…
















I went from a red-head (I look sorta drunk here but was soley off the hooch...or was I?)…
















To a blonde (closer to my natural color...mousey)...















I watched daddy play dives, outdoor parties, the “Taste of” some crappy city, an in-store, a couple of theaters, a gymnasium in Spain, 37th street at Christmas, a kickin’ and very dark New Year’s Eve party, and family affairs…





















































The biggest deal this past year, of course, was the birth of our son. Being a parent is the most incredible and fulfilling experience in the world. It’s also the hardest thing we've ever done but when you do it 24/7 for months at a time, you get pretty damn good at it. I wouldn’t change a minute of it for anything. I just hope we don't screw him up somehow. You just never know. Thanks to everyone for reading. Keep coming back.

Date For Deux

The pops and I managed to wrestle a date night out of our busy schedules last night and it was a great time. We would like to do it more often but the biggest challenge is the finding the sitter part. I remember a time when the biggest challenge was the anxiety of leaving him behind but now mama is eager to shed her baby leech and enjoy an evening playing footsie with daddy in a nice restaurant at least once a week. Our sitter(s) this time around ended up being daddy’s guitar player and his on again/off again girlfriend who is quite lovely and said guitar player needs to get off of the pot and hook up with this gal long term. He’d be a fool to let this one go. Hubby told me that she wants to have kids and we were laughing because we know that Willem has the ability to inspire women to drag their favorite mates to bed caveman-style. I popped the spider monkey into his stroller knowing that shuttling him off in the other direction would make for an unemotional getaway for all. We got a kick out of watching daddy’s guitar player navigate Willem’s ride down the street as the sometimes girlfriend gave directions on traffic and technique.

We headed off to a delicious restaurant called Taverna in the newly refurbished downtown area of Austin, a couple of blocks that have been given a facelift and could be anywhere USA. Dinner was great but the service was bubblier than my Proseco. The waitress's giddiness made my head hurt. I wasn’t too fond of the décor and despised the flat screen TV perched just beyond the dining room. Hubby kept looking over my shoulder with that “dead air space” look on his face and I knew that there was either a TV or a busty bartender nearby. To make matters worse, they were showing one of those poker tournaments. We both love poker but this wasn’t the time or place to be watching. We committed gluttony and headed over to Jo’s Coffee to watch the wonderful singer/songwriter, Amy Cook, perform. We sat outside and kibitzed with friends, old and new. It was an instance where worlds collide and planet earth suddenly seems so small. Amy’s girlfriend, Liz, is from Marfa, Texas, a place I fell madly in love with back in April 2004. Ever since, I have been begging and pleading for hubby to purchase for wifey a tiny plot of land there. “What are you going to do with this land?” he asks. “I will take a blanket and sit in the middle of it while gazing at the stars, the cactus, and mountains in the distance.” I reply. Something about this place feeds my spirit in the most complete and serene way like I once belonged there lifetimes before. I drive the surrounding roads and my heart races as I look deep into the distance of the land, inhale the unpolluted air, and watch nature beat it’s pace of life in it’s purest form. Marfa, itself, is a funky community of artists, filmmakers, ranchers, border patrol, and the well-to-do. The people do contribute to the liveliness of the tiny town but it’s the scrubby terrain, the fenceless acreage, and vast skies that sends me. Anyway, Liz is a creator of lovely spaces in Austin and in Marfa. This and this she helped design. She is beginning a project in Marfa that involves land, Sparton trailers, and a myriad of other things that I will keep under wraps for now. It’s all still in its infantile stages of planning but I’m getting one, dammit, and nothing is going to stop me. I see this to be the chance to carpe diem and I’m carpe-ing all over it! It is a dream come true.

Baby woke at 5 a.m. this morning (WHY???) and he was hot for mama and wanted to have a pre-dawn party for two so we ate and played and read books and did all of the stuff we should be doing AFTER 6:30 a.m. He went back to sleep at 8 a.m. and didn’t wake up until 12:30 p.m.! I called home to check in and daddy said baby was still asleep (this was at 12:15) and I was like “ARE YOU SURE HE’S BREATHING! DID YOU CHECK ON HIM EVEN! SOMETHING’S WRONG!” My co-workers were all spun around in their chairs staring at me. So he took a marathon morning nap and I’m wondering if this is normal? I stopped by the house like I do everyday to pump and grab a bite to eat but it never usually works out that way b/c baby lays eyes on me and he’s like an octopus. I sit him down and he shrieks. Daddy tries to hold him and you’d think he'd attached him to the ceiling fan and turned it on high. I’ve decided to start packing my lunch and breast pump and forgo the trips home anymore. It’s just too disrupting for me, the nanny, her kid, the husband, the neighborhood, the ozone layer…

Mr. Big Foot...

Lust For Life

Thank you to all for the comments of encouragement to continue blogging. I guess I needed to know that there is some mileage here for others to enjoy. Sometimes when I sit down to blog, I realize that it’s about to be another redundant outline of my day and turn the laptop off instead. Taking some time off from writing has informed me that a) I’m taking things to seriously lately, b) that I need to get out more (and see friends), and c) that I need to keep doing this as a record of our little world. Someday it will be fun to read this log of life, love, and of the all crap in between.

I had an appointment with my new girly-parts doctor today. I have officially fired my other one because I ultimately feel that I was overly encouraged to have a c-section, his meter was always ticking, and I never really got to see him personally anyway. The new doc is an attractive blonde with a no muss, no fuss sensibility. I need that. “Just tell me the facts, ma’am.” I also needed to address this libido-less land I live in, the one that will soon send my husband swimming for an island all his own. She gave me a script for birth control. She said it would dry up the leche production a bit but in order for my plumbing to get back to normal (i.e. I’ve had no period since December 2004, people!) I need to lessen the feedings anyway. It’s sort of a chain reation…take pills, lessen feedings, wean baby, become psycho PMSer until next baby. I hope the pills will actually have something to do. Last week, after an exhausting discussion with hubby about the very subject of my absentee ‘ho-ness, (maybe I could put a picture of it on a milk carton…Missing since December 2004. If spotted, please call her husband immediately!) we had a roll in the hay. He LOVED it and I am glad but he can’t be getting his hopes up for a repeat performance too soon (sorry, dear). At least he knows mama’s still got it (somewhere deep inside, like next to her pinkie toe)!

This past weekend was hubby’s mom’s 80th birthday celebration in Laredo, Texas. Yes, I said 80. And she had 10 children BUT she has a relative (sister?) that had 21. 21 kids! How do you explain that? 21! Now that I think about it I can better understand why my husband’s so crestfallen about our sans-sexual situation since many of his family members spend most of their childbearing years making more family members.

This is his mom. We can all hope that we are this alive, happy, and cuttin' a rug when we reach her milestone.


















She stayed until hubby’s band played the last note somewhere around 1 a.m. I had long gone to make sure my kid was okay with the neighbor/sitter. Daddy and nephew thought it would be funny to plant seeds in my head on the way to the party that the sitter would be taking my bambino across the border for some ransom en pesos. Not a wise idea. With the state of the border the way it is, anything is possible, especially in my mind. At the party, a relative told me that they had just stopped by the house and no one was there…no sitter, no baby. I marched over to the bar and prayed to God as I waited on a baptistism by Cuba Libre. I found baby to be asleep and unscathed upon my return later that evening.

Willem is going through a super-duper “I’m a junkie for mommy” stage that has left claw marks on parts of my flesh. It was especially unnerving when surrounded by family members wanting to snatch a piece of him. He freaked every time. Even began to come unglued when daddy took off with him. As he’d toddle around the house, I'd let a member of the fam slip their fingers in his grasp but when he realized he’d been given the ol’ switcheroo, he’d keep walking but while wailing like he'd been sentenced to the time out chair for life. It was quite pitiful.

Here he is practicing a look daddy must’ve taught him that says, “You spent HOW MUCH at Target?”


















Here he is working on his guitar noodling.

















So the one year anniversary for this blog is in a couple of days. Why give it up now? Thanks again for reading and commenting. I hope everyone gets something out of this. I certainly do.

Until tomorrow...

Hang On To Yourself

I'm considering an end to this blogging thing. At first I was writing for cathardic reasons but then I really started enjoying the fact that people were reading my nonsense. Now I'm wondering if it's all worth the effort. Are you still reading this? Is the Chaos At The Luau done? Let me know if I should continue. Many thanks.