Go Thee Towards The Sun

Five days a week I sit at my cubicle (yes, I work in a cube…something I thought I would NEVER do but it’s the best cube ever…very square with nice lines) hovering over two computers like the keyboard player in Depeche Mode (yes, that’s right, I use TWO computers because my laptop goes home with me and collects valuable info I need in my CUBE). About four hours in to each day I realize that I have been peering dangerously close to each screen, back hunched in a “C” shape like a grandma at a quilting bee. Over time, this could prove to be bad for me and as the working days get longer, I could deteriorate rapidly. The results might look something like this by the end of next month…







On a lighter note, and I do mean lighter, the night time doesn’t seem to be approaching as quickly these days and when I head home from work I can still see the squirrels I try to squash with my truck and the forlorn college kids waiting on the buses. I don’t feel as defeated by the wintery darkness when I arrive home and yesterday stuffed my little boy wonder-what-he-thinks-of-his-Latina-sitter in the stroller and hiked the ‘hood. It was glorious. He tapped his little socked feet to a tune he serenaded me with and I pushed with vigor in an effort to shake my cubicle shaped butt. Ahhh…all is well.

Oh! One more thing. I found this for sale on Amazon.com. It's fake, you, too, can own one, and I am scared.

Pipi

Willem's current sitter (who is the best dressed baby care giver ever and always looks like she's headed out to a dance party) has had to take a few days off so I am auditioning another to fill in the gaps. She's Latina, in her early twenties and has a 4-year-old son of her own. She speaks no English which isn't really a problem because husband and I combined are fluent present tense Spanish speakers. In an effort to communicate with her more effectively, I found a great program on the internet that allows me to type dialogue in English, cut and paste it into a text box and translate it in to Espanol. Worked like a charm but of course I have to embellish the details and overemphasize the specifics myself. I told her that the baby usually naps for two years instead of two hours. When I was telling her that baby loves lots of kisses and hugs, I basically said that I love lots of kisses and hugs. It took me a minute to figure out why she took a step backwards.

It's very hard finding people to trust to help you raise your only child. It's easy to decide that the way you do things is the only way it should be done. Around 1 p.m., I came home for lunch and to pump and found baby still in his pajamas. Evidently he hadn't eaten because she had prepared formula instead of the breast milk in the fridge and he hadn't taken a nap yet. I was bummed to see the little guy stalled out in his day. The look on his face was calm confusion when he saw me. I'm sure he was wondering what the heck was going on. I scooped him up, popped the boob in his mouth and soon he was fast asleep.

One of the great perks of having this little lady in my house is that she's also a housecleaner so while baby napped for 2 hours and 40 minutes, she scrubbed and swept and wiped and straightened. That's a nice thing to come home to so now I need to decide if this little arrangement is going to work. She's coming again today and tomorrow so we'll see.

Fat Head

If you look closely, you might conclude that someone has whacked my kiddo on the side of his sweet noggin' but this is in fact the result of his large melon squashing his tiny hand during naptime. You should've seen his hand. It looked like a fly swatter.

Workin' For A Livin'

It’s been challenging finding time to update this blog. My day job has me shackled and flogged. Afterwards, I head home to my “other job” as mommy, wife, maid, cook, therapist, archaeologist, mime, private dancer, and Jeopardy contestant. All in a days work. Last night I stuffed baby into this cool rugrat carrying apparatus I just got in the mail called a HipHugger (Mrs. Jolie-Pitt has one…insert ooooo’s and aaaaah’s here) and walked to this Mediterranean restaurant in my ‘hood for dinner. Hubby and friends were there and we had a lovely time until I burst into tears because I couldn’t remember the last time I had dinner with more than one adult at a time. Baby and I split the scene early and raced home to bed. We were both out by 9:45 p.m.

This past Wednesday the event planning company I work for coordinated an event at the Four Seasons with a nightmare client from NYC who was NEVER happy. Never, ever, ever! She had changed every detail over and over since the first day we had begun working with her. Couldn’t wait to meet her in person and yeah, she’s one of those. All dang day and in to the evening she fussed and cussed and frowned and at the end of the soiree for these drunken small town history, English, P.E, and math teachers from around the state (yes, they DID conga!), she gave us all a hug and said we did a great job…and she wasn’t drunk. I’m glad she did that ‘cause I was already considering which fake palm tree at one of four “islands” I was going to beat her with. After we schelped all of the crap for the party into the cargo van and dropped it at the warehouse, we slammed a beer at a divey Latino bar called Club Oriente or otherwise known as “Gringos Pay Double.” Damn good beer though.

I almost forgot to mention that during the set up of the event, my cell phone rings and it’s my baby’s nanny breathless on the phone. I’m thinking the kid has drown in a pool of drool or pooped a mountain or something but she squeals that he just waved to a person on a bicycle 3 times! Evidently they were at the park and he waved back at someone waving at him. At the same moment I’m freaking with delight, a wave of sadness overcomes me as I realize that, as a full time working mother, I will be missing a lot of firsts in his little world. What’s a baby mama to do?

Chillin'

The weather here has been amazing so we try and get out of the house as often as possible. We took our first jaunt to the neighborhood park this past weekend and watched the bigger kids play, run, and beat up each other. W was his cool usual self acting as if the world was his oyster...and it is. He always hikes his feet up on the dashboard of his ride.



Could you not just want to scoop him up and eat him???

Everyday Is Baby Day

Here is a brief pictorial of Sunday...

This is W considering his predicament in the baby bungee. I finally figured out how to adjust it so his feet touch the floor when for weeks he's been swinging in this stupid thing and HATING IT.




This is W realizing that he still isn't in to it and wanting out now (looks more like a crazed animal in a leg trap to me!).



This is W soaking the back of the sofa with his drool. He loves that orange blanket.



This is W flashing his gummy abyss.

Baby Weekend

Little woke up at 2 a.m. yesterday morning ready to partay. It’s frustrating to be yanked from a very brief deep sleep and travel down the length of the staircase to his room while your brain crawls back from dreamland but there’s nothing sweeter than seeing your child looking up at you and squealing with delight as if you are the honored guest at the soiree. I took him upstairs with me and tried to convince him that acting like a rock star at this age was a bad idea but he was having none of it. I lay down and sat him on my chest and could make out his toothless grin gaping down at me in the darkness. The brou-ha-ha lasted about an hour with coos and raspberries and then he quietly went back to sleep in his own bed. Of course at 6 a.m. he was rearing to go again.

We went to a “sip-n-see” yesterday to meet the lovely Julia in person. Please take a moment to gaze at her sweetness…















I handed Willem to Julia’s daddy so I could hold her small frame. She was as light as an empty shoebox and almost small enough to fit in one. You forget how delicate and weightless they are as such a young age. Willem got his diaper in a wad seeing me cooing at this tiny beauty and he was very concerned when he saw me across the room out of his reach. It was the first time I had witnessed this mommy craving behavior and it made me swoon. We went outside where all of the little boys of other families were playing and I stuck Willem in his first swing ride. I think I better get the boy one stat. He loved it. I had to ask assistance in freeing him though. I couldn’t figure out how to get the yellow thing up.



















On another note, I have to admit that sometimes when I reread a series of blogs I’ve written, I realize how different my life is now and that’s when I break into the liquor cabinet with my teeth. No seriously, it’s interesting how much things change when you bring a person into the world and then you have to hang out with them…a lot…or go into debt having someone else hang with them. Don’t get me wrong, I love all that I have and yes, I know the kiddo will be stealing my car keys in the middle of the night soon enough but I do miss my happy hour Fridays with girlfriends, the jet set weekends, being the first person in line at a Last Call sale, catching a movie in a theater and SLEEPING LATE. Mostly I just miss sleeping late.

Life In A Plastic Bubble

A girlfriend called earlier today to tell me her infant niece is in the hospital with the croup. I can't imagine what I would do if W had to be put in the hospital. It's bad enough I run horrific scenerios of things happening to him through my head anyway. His father called a couple of days ago to tell me he wasn't feeling well and turns out he has the flu...on the road. Ugh! At least he's not here to share the demon bug with Little. I've decided the only way I'm going to keep baby healthy is to put him in one of these forever...












I know they work. I had gerbils as a kid.



I canceled my gym membership yesterday. I just didn't see how I was ever going to get back in there even if it is a 24 hour joint. I've got my crazy busy job, my baby, my suitcases of fatigue, and my lack of motivation to keep me preoccupied. Thankfully I'm only 3 pounds away from my prepregnancy weight but everything is out of proportion now and has the texture of my down comforter. At the moment, I'm not concerned and my libido is still on vaca so I'm gonna nosh a few more boxes of Girl Scout cookies guilt free.

Oh, I saw this bumpersticker today..."One Nation, Under Surveillance." Yep. It's pretty bad.

Yawn

Daddy’s out of town for a while (anything longer than a weekend seems like a long time) so I get to hurry through my evening in an effort to get to bed as early as possible. This usually consists of my regular routine with baby (cereal, bath, lotion drama, canoodling time, bottle, more canoodling and then to bed) and then I nuke a TV dinner, take a psycho shower (because I get scared being in the shower when it’s just me and baby), and high tail it in to bed. It’s almost 9. I can probably make it by 9:30. Geez! Who am I?

In an effort to get to bed stat, here’s a blog pictorial instead of a blog editorial…

Baby with sock monkey buddy.















Daddy forgetting about flash in mirror.















Blurry baby in foreground (but still freakin' cute!).














Baby digesting dinner (but he looks too cool for that somehow).

Day Care Dropout

The baby bird flu experience this past weekend was more than we could handle so we’re taking Willem out of day care. I am sad to say that he won’t be tapping the breast milk kegs with his buddy, Prine, anymore but ever since he has been in school, he’s been sick. Going only two days a week allowed him the right amount time to get well enough to head back to class and pocket a shiny new ailment for me to wrestle over the weekend. Coughs, sneezers, a river of runny nostrils, diarrhea, and fever is just not acceptable for this parental unit. I talked to his teachers at school today and they were sad to hear that little W was quittin’ school and said they did their best to keep him in a bubble of protection throughout. I’m sure they did. We will try again in the fall when I have more time to do the voodoo I need to keep the bugs under control. In the meantime, we’ve got our Alabama nanny scheduled to the hilt. Let the cursing with a sweet Southern drawl begin.

I spent most of the morning making an enemy of my son as I vacuumed his nose with the blue bulb syringe. This is not how I like to leave him before heading to a long go of it in the salt mine. It’s bad enough my time with him is so brief these days. I don’t want him having nightmares of a mommy-like figure with fingers of blue suction aparati, palms of freezing diaper wipes, and nail clipper lips to pinch his pieces and parts. Yikes. Even that scared me!

Today #3

Today, sweet little man, you are five months old...

This month you introduced me to the world of infant ailments and I blame your daycare for nearly all of them. Although your infant room is a completely detached structure about 200 yards from where the bigger kids swap diseases, it must have some sort of water slide-like contraption that shunts illnesses in your direction. I'm sure the other babies in your room have been sharing with you the same germ crusted toys that they eagerly poke in and out of their mouths, too. I’d take your tiny behind out of there if I really didn’t think that you do love being among other short people and the teachers there. You just let me know when you’ve had enough. In the meantime, I’ll put up with that runny nose for a little while longer.

This is the time of year at work when I become ridiculously busy and get to see you less and less and it breaks my heart in two. When I have you in my arms at the end of each day, it’s all I can do to not swallow you whole. I’d put you in our bed every night if I thought daddy would allow it but he’s already being patient enough to wait until I put you in your own bed before he gets wifey on his watch. Speaking of daddy, it seems you two are building a wonderful bond all your own and I just love it when you flash him that dimple framed gummy smile in recognition. I know the both of you had a rough go of it in the beginning but things seem to be falling in to place now. That is such a relief.

You are getting long and lean and your features are becoming more and more defined. I can almost imagine what you will look like as a young man and I know you will be giving the male population a run for its money some day. You already have a gaggle of girls awaiting your eighteenth birthday. I will buy you a big stick with my face carved on the end of it as a gift so you can effectively beat them off.

Your favorite toy right now is your sock monkey. You cling to it like a baby monkey yourself. You have gotten more mobile in your crib and can almost make a complete counter clockwise rotation throughout the night. On many occasions though, you don’t make it past the 10 o’clock position because your big head gets stuck in front of your crib aquarium. Often I have to come rescue you from the thing clicking on and off, on and off, fish going up and down, songs bonging on and off, the lights strobing like a disco because you’re tapping it with your forehead every time you move. It’s sadly amusing.

You’re still a lover of the water and when I turn you over on your yellow sponge raft on to your belly, you kick and wiggle with ferocity. You’ve inhaled enough water to know that sticking your face in it is a bad idea. You’ve really grown to despise the post bath ritual when I put the lavender baby lotion on your body. As soon as I grab the tube and flip it open, you start squinting and blinking and making gagging sounds. Lately, you do that when I grab anything because you hate the lotion so much. Mommy thinks it’s funny.

This weekend, we have been battling your first fever and it has completely freaked me out. You have been a sweet lump of heat in my arms and although I can tell you are miserable, you have been an angel through it all. Unfortunately, your daddy had to go play some shows out of town and hasn’t been around but I can tell he is extremely worried and can’t wait to get home to hold you and kiss you and make you feel safe. We both want you to feel that way and to know that we are here for you always.

Love, Mom

Rock Star Baby

Last weekend we drove to Dallas to see GoGo and watch Daddy play a show. We stayed overnight and that was just long enough for Willem to get a horrible case of the nasal drips. I didn't realize how drafty the floor area was until I was sitting there with him the next morning. He slept in a playpen provided by the hotel and was just downwind of a draft. I'll pay closer attention to that possiblity next time. So how did baby handle the rock n roll circus?
Just like this...




The owner of the venue came over to find out what type of head phones baby was wearing so he could get some for a friend. Dang things really work. I tried them on myself and could barely hear the rantings of Guy Fantasy.

Towards the end of the show, I received a call from my youngest brother who is an EMT and volunteer fireman. He was in the area dropping off a patient at a nearby hospital and wanted to swing by the club. It would be the first time he would see his nephew in person. I didn't consider what it might look like to have an ambulance pull up to the venue. The paramedics climbed out and were standing at our table when the "manager" of the Small Stars hurried over to make sure everything was okay with the littlest Small Star. Ooooops.

Damn Wireless

I was just putting the finishing touches on a blog update when the wireless network I am writing from decided to interrupt and ask me to join its network thus causing me to lose all that was written. How infuriating is that?!? Now I'm out of time, have to head to the salt mine and who knows when I'll get back to this. Grrrrr...

Who Would Jesus Bomb?

That was a bumpersticker I saw today.

On a MUCH lighter note, I read on the web about a porn star named Brittney Rears.

Breakfast Taco

I've grounded myself from Target so I'm here at an eastside cafe noshing some pastries with the coupon for diapers burning a hole in my pocket. I'll get the diapers from a drugstore later.

Thank you to all of the baby mamas who offered up some valuable advice on Willem's condition. We're still battling the poop project but I'm hoping it all improves soon. This morning I had to change him once for a hiney backfire that leapt to the middle of his back and just as I had gotten him cleaned up and redressed, I proceeded to nuzzle his ribs, make him laugh and arf at the same time. He wasn't too pleased when he realized I had to change him yet again. The face he makes when he has to swallow the curds and whey is hilarious and sad at the same time. To make matters worse, I had to dash back into the house twice after returning home en route to day care to get things I had forgotten. The icing on the cake was when I got Willem to school and was unloading his extra onesies (because I know he's going to need them) and bottles out of his bag, I noticed that one of the bottles had fallen over and leaked all over the clothing. Ugh. Makes me feel like somedays I shouldn't be a mom. Thankfully, little Will is too young to know what the heck is going on and smiles at me like I can do no wrong. Sweet, sweet child.

Ground Control To Major Tom

Somehow I have managed well with baby sans papa since Saturday. I am surprised only because a) I'm super freakin' busy at work and come home completely whooped, b) baby's much more of a wiggle worm/nosey bird these days and has to be in all the business around him, and c) yesterday my sitter was sick which meant I had to find someone last minute who could only stay 2.5 hours giving me enough time at the office to completely freak out over the workload I couldn't address. It all played out well and I was able to juggle baby, answer emails, figure some budgets from home, AND heat up a TV dinner before passing out at 10:30. I think I'm earning one of those t-shirt/cape combos that Super Moms wear (I'll take mine bedazzled, thank you). One bit of concern though, and all of you baby mommas lend me some advice, I was feeding Willem at 3 a.m., sitting on the floor of his bedroom and he knocks out two full boobs no prob. He does, however, within minutes of eating barf up the contents of his tummy like an opened faucet all over me (which is fine, really). He's never done that quantity before but wait, I'm not done. He now has a bad case of diarrhea and came home from school with diaper rash. I'm so sad for his little bottom. Evidently he had many diaper changes today. So what do I do besides rub balm on his tiny buttocks? Oh, no fever by the way, and he acts like there's nothing wrong, my little champ.

This morning I had on Sesame Street which I haven't seen in eons. Because I was raised on the muppet fodder, I feel it's okay for my kid to watch. Willem only occasionally tunes in though between gnawing the legs of his stuffed calamari or sucking the life out of his musical dog with crunchy ears. Norah Jones was on the show. Her guitar player is a good friend of ours (and a great guy by the way..."Hi Adam!"). It was hilarious because she was sitting at a piano talking to an Elmo-like creature or maybe it was Elmo. I dunno. Anyway, she was sad because the letter "Y" never showed up to see her so she played one of her hits and sang, "I don't know why "Y" didn't come." It was so hokey. I wonder how much Sesame Street pays musicians ? Probably not much because that street is still such a dump.

Daddy comes home tomorrow but there won't be any date night. I have to work late. Oh, I forgot to mention that on our first date night, the one where I pretended to be Elmer Fudd, we were so hopped up on vino and marital bliss that we didn't pay the sitter. I guess we were like, "Hey, thanks for sitting with the kid. Cute, ain't he? I'm sure he was no trouble. Whew, we're beat. Thanks again. Okay. See ya!" Click. When she wrote down her hours later in the week, she included date night and I couldn't believe we didn't pay her. So we're still trying to get the hang of this parenting thing. Don't worry. She got her money and she still likes us.


Willem's "When are you going to put away that flashing thing in your hand and take me on a stroller walk?" face.

Universal Remote

We just got one of those things that consolidates the 5 remotes we have scattered in the living room. Now I don't have to dig for all of them in seat cushions, behind the sofa, or under baby's floor gym when I want to watch television. The problem now is keeping up with the ONE dang remote. I should put in on giant chain and attach it to the entertainment center.

On a related note, I'm feeling like a universal remote myself these days. Back at work full time, soakin' up baby in the short hours of the day that I see him, being a wife to a supportive husband, picking up after EVERYONE, shuttling baby to and from school, helping out the new sitter. I do, however, enjoy the fast pace of the days as they zoom, zoom by. Certainly makes the time spent with the family way more valuable. So what if I'm getting even less sleep as I stress over proposals that need to be written, parties that need to be planned for clients, and whether or not this breastfeeding thing is actually going to work out. Thankfully, the least of my concerns is what to wear to my job. There's not much of a dress code so I can dress like a school marm or a Target store model and it doesn't really matter.

Speaking of Target, my husband is considering buying stock in the company because I go there twice a week now and break the bank. It's an evil place. Most of my purchases are justified but they have that $1 section you walk right in to when you enter the store. Right there, the tab goes up about $12. Then there's those great t-shirts that have some flowery graphic on the front that I love. Oh, and baby always needs a new pair of shoes/socks/outfit/toy. Gotta grab a bag of those tiny Hershey candy bars that come in 5 flavors (I'm so over the candy corn). I usually try and get daddy something, too. Last time it was that universal remote thingie.

Took Willem to a birthday party yesterday for a girlfriend who turned two. There were lots of little families there like mine and I got to see Malcontent Mama (see link to the left) with her sweet fam in the flesh (damn cute kiddos!). Willem was not much of a team player because he had a string of bad naps earlier. He was rather indifferent to the event. Even the violent pinata bashing didn't phase him. I, on the other hand, got to talk trash and drink a beer with the rest of the moms.

Daddy is out on the road for a few days (all of you stalkers, baby snatchers, aliens, and psychopaths don't even consider coming to my house and mess with me...I have a HUGE gun). He played a show in Corpus and is now in OKC at a songwriting camp hosted by the brothers Hanson. Yep, those Mmmmbop boys. They're still around and doing quite well on the live music circuit. This is how daddy pays the bills. Write those songs, find 'em a home and let somebody else schelp them while we wait for the checks to roll in. He's paid his dues on the road. It's time now for him to enjoy the fam, write his musical, entertain his muse all from the comfort of his humble abode.

Well Wownded

Hubby and I had date night last night and it was a wonderful, gluttonous affair. I secured a babysitter who I think is going to work out for the long haul.



(Willem seems to like her. He was asleep in the sitters arms when we got home with his cheek smashed against her boob and his hand resting on top of it. Daddy must be proud.).








For our date, we went to one of our favorite restaurants, an Italian number called Vespaio, where we know the owners and a bartender in particular. It's a crowded little place because the food is so damn good and the wait can be one to two hours. We were willing to stick it out but were quickly shunted to a cozy table by a window with comped prosecco in hand. Our waiter, we had heard, came from the only 5-star restaurant in the city, so I wanted to find out what he thought of working at Vespaio. He explained some differences and similarities, spoke of his formal training and such and, I, feeling the effects of the bubbly so dang easily piped up and said, "You're a well wownded waiter!" As I scanned the speech portion of my brain and mentally scolded it for making me sound like Elmer Fudd, I hoped that only I had heard such babble and pretended like nothing happened. Well, of course my husband didn't miss it and when the waiter left he looked at me and said, "Well wownded waiter?" We spent most of the evening talking like ol' Elmer and laughing ourselves stupid. For my foodie friends out there, we both ordered this insane dish of osso bucco stuffed inside thick crepes with large, buttery seared scallops on the perimeter of the plate. That actually followed some baked oysters and preceded an apple bread pudding. It was a grand evening and we managed to blow a week's worth of grocery budget in one sitting. "Hello, peanut butter and jelly."


This is Willem's first day at school. His t-shirt says "Less Talk, More Rock!" Oh yeah!















He loves the bath and I have a helluva time keeping him on that sponge thingie.














Thank you, Wendielu, for the egg onesie!

Date Night

So tonight was supposed to be our first date night sans baby but we couldn't get our poop together and since baby busted a serious nut this afternoon and I had to come home from work an hour early to make sure the nut wasn't completely lost, I wanted to monitor the situation and make sure he wasn't seriously ill or something (damn, that was a long sentence). So how did date night turn out? We ordered a pizza for dinner but when husband went to pick it up, he called to say that it had split in half (huh?) and they were baking another one. He was going to hang and enjoy his free beer. The rushed pie ended up being gloopey. Hubby is now watching the stupid Texas football game at his brother's house so I'm here alone with baby. Later he's going to a new bar, a place WE were supposed to go together but when he told me he had invited his knucklehead friends, the same group we see ALL THE TIME, I was peeved. Dang it, this was supposed to be DATE NIGHT! Not "fraternize with the same guys we see all of the time" night. I can count on one hand how many times I've been alone with my husband in public in the last five months.

How can I reclaim my libido if we're hanging with a masculine group of middle-aged late bloomers on date night (*see image below)? Can't be done.

Today #2

Dearest Willem,

Today you are four months and three days old. You are really starting to turn into your own person as you navigate through the routines of each day. I am amazed at how much you change the patterns, the relationships, and the associations you have in every familiar activity. You are still enamoured with your mobile and coo to it as you reach unsuccessfully for the little animals hanging from the spindle. You get stone still when the mobile stops playing music and turning as if you too have run out of time. We gave you a crib a couple of weeks back and you love the spaciousness of it where you can view all of your toys and your goofy parents gazing down at you. Yesterday when I returned from my first day back at work, I found you on your tummy in the crib and when you saw me, you made great efforts to come my way, kicking your pudgy legs and waving your arms. If you had been in a pool of water, you would've swam to me with the agility of an Olympic swimmer. Late at night when I rescue you from hunger pangs and scary stuffed animal nightmares, you hug my neck so tight as we climb the stairs to the big bed, I sometimes can't breathe. You are a big time snuggler and force me over to daddy's side of the bed when you wiggle closer and closer to me. He likes that. Sometimes those same nights, you are ready to party instead of sleep and talk to yourself out loud as if rehearsing a speech. You are also quite the singer and will hold a note so long, I fear you may simply pass out. I still dream of the night that I get to completely miss it because I have somehow slept through but I'm close to accepting the fact that probably won't happen until you graduate from high school. I have had to put hair rubber bands and clips all over the house because you like to grip the mane around my face when I hold you resulting is a very gradual hand-plucked shag hair do. Before too long I may resemble Rod Stewart. You have gotten really good at holding your head up and turning it to see things you desperately want to see. In fact, I think you have a hidden swivel in your spinal cord or have a couple of hoot owl genes because you can turn that thing pretty dang far. It starts wobbling from the weight of your noggin' when you turn too far. You smile at everything (me, daddy, pretty girls, your stuffed blocks, the ceiling, air) and your deep dimples knock everyone out. Such an unexpected addition to your beautiful face. You continue to be such a joy and I cherish every brief moment I am with you. I will try my hardest to not squeeze the breath out of you when I hug you and only give you 150 kisses when I get home from work everyday. You are my darling son and you are loved more than you'll ever know.

Happy New Ears

How have I managed to miss so many bloggable days in a row? It's not like things aren't happening around here. Today was my first day back at work since Willem was born and, ladies and gentlemen, I am here to report that it was SWEEEEEEET! Wow! I guess I'm one of those moms with a detachable heart that can easily leave her child in the suddenly capable hands of her fab husband. Of course, I did shed a tear when Willem's tiny face looked up at me from the bars of his cage, I mean, crib, raised his eyebrows and smiled like a movie star promo shot. It was hard to say that last good-bye but all of a sudden, when I got behind the wheel, I was so stoked to be free, I mean, glad to be on my way to contribute to the financial responsibilities of our family. At work, I gossiped (got caught up), sent adult-scented emails to clients, eyeballed co-workers who put on a few too many since I've been gone and nibbled on holiday edibles that have probably been there since before Christmas. I dashed home briefly to feed the little boy wonder and nibble all of his parts but without hesitation, I put him back in his cage, CRIB, and sped to the office. Now I'm wondering how it got so late in the day so fast and I still have so much to do?

Tomorrow is a big day for Willem. He's going to daycare on Tuesdays and Thursdays and tomorrow is day one. Mommy is FREAKED but it has to be done. He will be the youngest in the infant room and I only hope that the teachers protect my youngin' from the grabbing hands of other tots or this Greenville girl with be all up in their business stat. 'Nuff said.

Check out these naughty little naked lady soaps sent to me from my dear friend, Wendielu, who never updates her blog, for Christmas. They are amazing scents like almond spice, rosemary mint, gingergrass, and the most confusing essence, karma. I don't know if she made them but I would like to get some more so, Wendielu, please advise. I enjoy bathing with a collection of naked ladies so hook me up.

Well, that's all I can muster for now. I just ate a larger than lady-like bowl of homemade bolognese and must now jellyroll myself in the direction of a queen-sized mattress.

Oh, let me mention that in 2005, my dedicated husband and I remodeled our entire house, moved 3 times, gave birth to a healthy and beautiful baby boy, started a new band, and traveled to Spain for two and a half glorious weeks. Our plans for 2006? You'll be the first to know.

The Price You Pay

About 4 years ago, I asked my lesbian hairdresser in Nashville to dye my hair red like hers. She was blonde, like me, and looked totally foxy sassin' around in her newly colored mop. I, on the other hand, looked like Raggedy Ann after it was said and done and have for all this time. There's nothing worse than looking at pictures of yourself and thinking "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Me.









Today, I spent 5, count 'em FIVE hours in a salon, the longest time I've been away from my baby in the daytime since he was born, turning my hair back to blonde and the end result? Well, let's just say, I have much more salon time to look forward to but I will say, I'm well on my way and that my hairdresser is a magician. The biggest bonus of this endless day of breathing chemicals and having my hair washed four times is that daddy had to spend all of this time with baby and it was a SUCCESS! Gives me great peace of mind since I am eagerly and begrudingly returning to work on Monday. I can't believe it's true, but it is. The babymoon is over and I must head back to the salt mine. The thought of spending such large chunks of time during the day away is really tough, tougher than I expected and my stomach is all tied up in knots but a huge part of me is ready to jump back into the working world where adults linger and bad jokes are swapped and new shoes are compared and deals are negotiated and clients are swooned and money is made and all that stuff. It's going to be a tough transition but here we go, sooner than I expected. Baby also starts daycare on Tuesday and will attend there two days a week. Yet another reason to have my fur in a dander and worry about that one little Asian baby I witnessed scratching the face of a toehead while we were talking to the director of the school. My baby is unspoiled (yet spoiled by be), unscathed, unscratched, and smells sooooo good. It's all about to be very different. God, grant me the serenity...

Blonde In A Box

This was how one of my Christmas presents was wrapped this year. Was it packaged by the tiny hands of my child, you ask? As a matter of fact, it was wrapped by my husband and THAT was his SECOND attempt. Inside was a coupon in the sum of a few hundred dollars, the amount it will cost to bring me back to blonde. Being a redhead was great but it's time to return to my "roots" and have some fun, as the saying goes. The transition isn't going to be fun and I am fearful I will look more like Sinead O'Connor than Paris Hilton. Stay tuned.

GoGo came and stayed with us for the holidays but this is what happens when you share a good book with her. These were taken in sequence. She hardly put the book down...













Notice the pajama pant/puppy combo. That's her dog, Blaze, and when he lays on her lap, he completely disappears. The book, by the way, was The Lovely Bones, soon to be a movie.

And here is a picture of Willem eagerly awaiting Santa's arrival or in other words, "Go to sleep already, kid!".



Also, if you're wondering what the heck to do this New Year's Eve, you can't miss this!

Some Libido In My Stocking, Please

As promised in the childbirthing class we took six months back, I am a new mother who traded libido for a 24/7 date with a very small person. My husband was disheartened like every other spouse that day when the instructor explained that hows and whys of this cruel decline of desire. She gave a recovery timeline of a year. That was when the collective masculine gasp sucked the air out of the room and gave everyone face lifts. Honestly, it's hard to believe that what got you where you are in the first place would be removed and replaced by a hollow void but it's true. The idea of a roll in the hay is about as appealing as skinning fish with my teeth. Don't get me wrong, I love the kissy, cuddling, canoodling parts of our affectionate role playing but don't even think about second or third base. I'll take that bat and beat you with it. I know it's a protective measure installed by Mother Nature to keep our children's ages at least a few months apart but I also know that my husband wishes we were back in the dark ages where when a woman was impregnated, he could go off on a dinner date and woo another gal. I don't blame him and extend permission to him to visit as many naughty sites on the internet as he so desires (not that he needed my permission in the first place). In the meantime, I will hit the sales racks at Last Call after the holidays and see if I can muster some luster in the lingerie department. He's been a good boy this year and deserves a little "hoe" with his ho, ho. ho.

Sensitive Ponytail Type

Didn't I just take my child on a two and a half week trip to another country where EVERYTHING was unfamiliar? And didn't strangers oogle, touch, tug and squeeze him? Just checking because I took him to a fun Christmas cookie decorating party yesterday and he SCREAMED and CRIED for the first 35 minutes until he was bright red and hoarse. Mothers flocked to make his acquaintance and try to calm him down but it only heightened his freak out fit. He was a soggy, limp rag doll by the time he wore himself out and I was in major need of a glass of wine and snuggle time with the little guy. We stuck around for another 45 minutes or so and he remained calm but I think he scared all of the guests. No one really talked to us.

I figured out yesterday that one of the greatest things about having a new baby is that it really simplifies the holiday shopping gift list. All I need to buy are a bunch of picture frames 'cause every family member is getting a picture of the kiddo. Merry Ho-Ho.

On the second leg of our return trip home, we had a layover in Atlanta. After the first 9 hour flight, we were tired, cranky and carried short fuses. When we deplaned, we had to reclaim our lugguage, go through customs, recheck the baggage, go through security (the part where you get naked to clear the beep), and make the long haul to the gate. Well, our beloved Snap N Go, the stroller frame that carried baby all over Spain, got left in Atlanta. Damn thing never showed up. An Indian man who worked somewhere in the airport said it would pop out on some other belt where golf clubs and fly rods appear. Daddy and I fussed and cussed about where we were supposed to retrieve it and I was just about to ask for a divorce when we both waved the white flag and left the thing behind. We were both saddened by the loss but stumbled onward. I had to now haul the 15 pound kid in carseat with my giant backpack on my person through the terminal while daddy dragged two suitcases and his carry-on behind him. It was not glamorous and I heard a woman who walked past me with her stroller remark to her husband, "That must suck." Yes, lady, it did. So now we're searching for a new stroller, a complete system with beer holders, a gun rack, and a giant spotlight. If anyone knows of any on sale (because, dang, they're expensive!), send me an email.

Guapo

I will always be grateful that I got to drag my infant son all over Spain, an event that he'll have no memory of, and I will be the first to admit that IT WASN'T EASY, people. The opportunity to go presented itself and the trip was a must do. It was practically paid for, too. This was my first time across the pond and it was a time of year that wasn't overpopulated with tourists (but no one told me that Spain has plenty of its own people on the continent). I was scared, excited, unnerved and anxious but it all played out well and we made it home in one piece and as a complete family.

One wonderful thing about Spain is that they LOVE children and it doesn't matter where you take them or when. Many times Willem found his tiny self in the arms of some foxy foreign woman gooing over him. One of the most remarkable moments occurred when we had gone to the Museo Sophia in Madrid one afternoon. We made a mad dash inside of this mammoth place to see the famous Guernica before it closed or got too late or something. Anyway, around the corner you stumble upon this amazing painting and in real life, it's breathtaking. I'm sure there's always a crowd of people hugging the perimeter of the exhibit as there was that particular day. I was making my way from one corner to the other when I was stopped in my tracks by a young, attractive girl from Italy. She freaked out over Willem, gushed over him to her friends, begged to take him from me, smooched him, cooed at him, had her boyfriend take a picture with him when all the while there's this super important piece of art behind us (nice backdrop). I soon saw my husband who seemed a bit shocked at the spectacle before him and the disregard we were having about the important work over our shoulder. I, in turn, was a bit overwhelmed by this girl's enthusiasm and began to think at any moment she was about to take off running with my child. In the end, the baby was safely back in his stroller, I was gloating and daddy was shaking his head. We heard the word "guapo" often about our baby in Spain and I have to admit, he is kinda cute. "Guapo" is now one of his many nicknames.

Scrooge Conversion

I share a holiday homestead with Ebenezer Scrooge but I'm working to convert his curmudgeonly ways. Hopefully I won't have to enlist the three ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future to do it. That could get ugly.

Ol' Eb drove Willem and I to the east side of Bastrop to the Loma Alta Christmas Tree Farm last Thursday. I had a feeling that the trip would be challenging but I was determined to share with him the experience of killing our own chosen sapling in a pine-scented forest of hundreds.


















As I'm ho-hoing away in the back seat with baby, Eb was looking for the landmarks for the turn. Needless to say, we ended up in Smithville and Eb was one pissed miser. He couldn't understand why we didn't just drive to the neighborhood grocery store and snag one of the dried up twigs out front instead of going on this extended hunt. After a bit of fussin' and fightin' we found the joint and bounced our way down the dirt road to the headquarters. We were greeted by a man who could easily play Ned Flanders in the made for TV movie and his Australian Shepherd, Barney. Barney had one bluish eye that Eb thought was sans vision. Faux Ned gave Eb a hand saw and sent us off into the forest. Since the hayride wasn't in commission, we stayed close to the road knowing full well that we'd have to schlep our tree of choice back to base camp. Surprisingly, Eb quickly embraced the hunt and followed baby and I into the manicured thicket. A sparrow hawk sat at the top of one particular tree that Eb claimed was "the one" because the bird was some sort of sign. I would've been game for it except that the tree was 10 feet tall and I was sure the strangely calm bird would rip our eyes out and steal the baby. We did finally manage to choose a bushy fella and, on my command, Eb begrudginly got on his knees and began to saw. About five minutes later, he was cursing from underneath the branches. Not wanting the fun to come to a screeching halt, I handed over the kiddo and made a go of it but damn thing was impossible to sever. I marched out into the road and summoned "Ned" and with little effort, he cut the tree from the ground. It was easy to imagine him with the muscle bound body of Flanders underneath his flannel and raincoat. After the dead bristles were violently shaken from the tree by a shaking machine and it was fed in to a really big mesh bag, we secured it to the top of the truck and took it home. I grinned to myself when Eb said that next year he wanted to gather up a group of friends to make the trip with us, pack some warm toddys and make a Saturday of it. One small step for wifey, one giant leap for Christmas's to come.


















P.S. Baby loves the tree!

Storytelling: Part Dos

The Climb Of Our Lives - we hiked up to that castle on the island of Palma, Mallorca. There were about 200 stairs and we were half way up them when we decided to ditch the stoller in the bushes and hike the rest of the way like Sherpas hired by a 24-inch, toothless person who really couldn't appreciate the effort.


















Face Melting Architecture




















European MTV ROCKS!
















World's Largest Vibrator















Paella Thief

Storytelling

I tried to download a program that would allow me to creatively post the vaca pics on my blog but because I own a Mac, that damn program isn't compatible. That's probably a saving grace because I am now limited in the amount of things I can post. Here is a tiny morsel...

Before Baby
















After Baby















Popsicle Baby - it was dang cold in Madrid.



















Museum Of Ham - Seriously, that's what this place was called and I thought we had lost Willem's Piglet rattle there which would have been appropriate.















European Baby - He really does look like quite the Spanish flirt, doesn't he?

Stranger Danger

Close to the tail end of our trip, I finally threw in the towel and decided to let the front desk guy at our hotel find us a babysitter so that daddy and I could go out on our first real date since the rugrat arrived. A part of me was excited about the idea of putting on some fishnets and stepping out but a huge part was hoping that every babysitter in the town of Leon was on strike or booked. Turned out that someone was willing to come sit in our modest hotel room with my beloved late that evening. Dinner isn't served in this country until 9 p.m. which is insane, so the sitter had between the hours of 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. to raid our suitcases and steal my child. I was a wad of nerves all day long and nearly jumped out of my skin when she finally knocked on the door. An elderly, grandmotherly Spanish woman calmly hobbled in and I was relieved to note her obvious age range. I mean, she couldn't run that fast if I had to chase her. She smelled nice and smiled broadly as she told me she couldn't speak English so in my broken Espanol, I explained to her things about the baby. Translating my info to her would read something like "Baby very good. Sleeping 10 minutes. Diapers big. Here. Things you need. My first time out from baby. Very nervous. Need drink. Milk here. No more. Kiss him. Love him. Very nervous." She kept repeating the word "tranquilo" over and over and over. Basically she was telling me to calm down but by the 10th or 11th time she said it, I was beginning to think she was recommending tequila or tranquilizers. I managed to leave with my date for the evening out but he didn't help matters by joking about Willem being kidnapped. I had to laugh when he reminded me of the Simpsons episode when Homer lost Maggie and called the lost baby hotline. They put him on hold and the hold music was the song "Baby Come Back." All was well though when we returned and the little one was sleeping like an angel with no visible signs of trauma. I tipped her 5 euro and scooted her out the door so I could promptly examine all of his parts.

Espana

Friggin’- A, we did it! We survived a two and a half week trip with our now three-month-old son to a foreign language speaking country that legally has two-hour lunches WITH ALCOHOL AND CIGARETTES throughout. Was the adventure fun? You bet! Did I ever want to be gored in the streets by a running bull? Once or twice, but I couldn’t find any bulls.

Here’s a brief rundown of our trip…
Number of plane flights: 6
Number of train rides: 6
Number of cities visited: 5
Miles of stroller journeys: 150 or so
Number of miles in the Bjorn: 10
Number of cathedrals I breastfed in: 3
Number of women who flung themselves at Willem: 22
Number of café con leches consumed: 34
Number of glasses of cava: 40 or so
Number of times I asked for a divorce on the trip: 1

Yesterday was an 18-hour travel day. This isn’t healthy for an adult, much less a 24-inch little one yet he hung in there like a champ. Since he had gotten a stuffy nose on an overnight train ride a couple of days earlier, he was a tad more opinionated than the trip to Spain but who wouldn’t be cranky when you don’t know how to blow your own nose. Mommy flubbed the backpack diaper bag packing for the trip home and had to bum number 2 diapers from mothers in the airport. I bought European diapers in Palma, Mallorca but couldn’t make the weight conversion and ended up with MC Hammer diapers. Daddy came up with a hilarious version of Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” for diaper duty that went…

“Every where I go, people laugh at me
‘cause I’m wearing diapers made in 1983.
Can’t wear these.”

I will include a little collage of life in Spain as soon as I figure out how. Oh, and I'm REALLY tired so I need a nap before I start researching this. It's good to be home and Austin is a dang fine city to live in.

P.S. If anyone needs any tips on traveling with very young people, let me know. I think I'm close to an expert on the subject.