Skittles (And Your Imagination)

(Seriously, what's up with Blogger? I have spent way too much time much too late in the evening trying to upload some pictures to tell you a story but now that Blogger isn't cooperating, you're going to have to use your imagination until I can get the damn things loaded. Damn! Damn!)

Baby and I rocked the weekend in croupsnotland but made it through mostly unscathed. Would’ve helped if papa had been around but he had to make bacon in Missouri and Kentucky. We love bacon! He came home to find that he now lives inside a bag of Skittles. See…

(insert pic here of very colorful kitchen and breakfast area)

W did his part, too.

(insert pic of his handprint on the wall in red paint)

Thankfully, W was too snotty to inhale the paint fumes but I floated around with a brain-numbing, debilitating headache all weekend. Papa came into the kitchen this morning and quipped that he didn’t need any coffee. The walls woke him up already. Earlier I had turned on the overhead lights and quickly shut them off after nearly singeing my retinas. The under shelf lighting does the job just fine now. There’s more Skittlizing to come but we will be on vaca when that happens. Oh glorious vaca! How I dream of thee and can’t get any work done. I checked the extended forecast and it’s possible it could be raining most of the visit but I don’t care. Really, I don’t. I’ll just do indoor stuff like lounging and drinking fruity cocktails and lounging s’more and getting more fruity cocktails and someone find that sitter already and lounging and drinking s’more and talking to myself and trying to put my key in the door and barely making it to the bed and sleeping it off and what happened to my kid? Lord, PLEASE DON’T LET IT RAIN THE WHOLE TIME!

For your viewing pleasure, here I am playing indoor pony. Beneath those jeans are some burning thigh muscles. What you can't hear is him clucking and clicking (I need to get a camera with some freakin' audio, huh?)...

Heavy and Light

I’ve been staying up late reading the book "A Mighty Heart: The Brave Life and Death of My Husband Danny Pearl" by Marianne Pearl, the wife of the Wall Street Journal reporter who was kidnapped in 2002 in Pakistan and murdered. I was going to save it for our beach trip that’s happening later in the month (!) but I’ve been sucked in and it’s heartbreakingly good. It’s her love and devotion in the face of this terrifying event that drew me to the story but I am finding so much more. Courage, dedication, deceit, strength, faith and fear are themes woven in and out of the pages. I can’t imagine how traumatic such an experience might be and, to top it off, Marianne was pregnant with their son when it happened. When I am finally able to put the book down and turn off the light, I steep in the story a while longer and get scared. The world was a scary place when I was young but it’s so much scarier as an adult and now I have a child to send out into its clutches someday. I am afraid of what he will find or what will find him. Of course, thinking about this at night alone in bed makes it even darker and I sleep with one eye open, a talent mastered when Willem came into the world. It proves to be both useful and frustrating. Tonight I’ll watch a movie instead and save the book for broad daylight.

Now about that beach trip…
Sweet Jeebus, I’m cabana boy bound! For one entire week, this tiny family of three will be doing absolutely nothing. We’re staying in a highly rated, all-inclusive resort (a first!) that will be adults-only come this November. It’s located in town which is good. When you get tired of being waited on hand and foot you can wander out to the neighboring restaurants and be served by surly waitstaff. The resort has BEDS ON THE BEACH UNDER CANOPIES, and BABYSITTERS and GRATIS HOOCH IN OUR ROOM and did I mention CABANA BOYS! A dream come true, no? I went to Just Add Water yesterday to get a swimsuit where it cost me a small fortune but it’s reversible (2 suits in one…price justified!) and covers a lot of the post pregnancy soggy parts of mommy flesh that shouldn’t be viewed in public. It’s a great, stylish number and after finding something I feel good in, I’m ready for Mommy’s Gone Wild in Mexico. All I need is a packable straw hat, my sarong, sunglasses, and lots of one-dollar bills. Arriba!

Cheap Date

I read about 25 blogs most days. Nearly all of them are of the parenting genre. It’s an addiction, a curiosity. Some of the bloggers I know and some of them I wish I knew. I read about far away birthday parties, girls night out, and collaborative mommy projects and wish I was part of it all. Baby and I don’t get invited to do much but that’s okay. We’re tight. We’re tight. When pictures are posted of offspring, I study them. I peer deeply into their images and survey the backgrounds looking for hints, parenting tips in the form of toys, educational materials, stuff. I file away items in my mind, things I’d like for baby to have when he’s older or things he should have real soon. He doesn’t really own that much except the loot I won on ebay half a year ago and a plethora of infant toys I need to pack away. His favorite things right now are chess sets, plastic to-go containers, books, and anything resembling a blanket he can nuzzle (robes, dish cloths, an old t-shirt). He’s a wonderful cheap date.

Speaking of cheap dates, it’s date night with the hubs tonight. We have a delicious evening planned and this mom is stoked. We need the solo time together. It taps into a certain energy we had before baby was born and we easily revert right back into couples-only blissfulness. Sooooo good.

DJ Baby Velcro

The Usual

Well, it didn’t take long for the nasty little germs that hide in every nook and cranny of daycareland to sink their claws into W. Within 24 hours he had a glistening snail trail of snot on his upper lip, a transparent mustache. It doesn’t seem to bother him much until I wield the blue bulb nose sucker and then he knows something’s up and about to go down on his person. Poor little guy tries to break free of my clutches while clinging to me with the hopefulness that I will make it all stop. He’s developing a cough, too, so I guess he’s going to cycle all of the illnesses through his system in a relatively short period of time. The sooner we get this over, the better. There is an end to this, yes? Isn’t he building up an armory of defending agents to fight off later infections? I think that’s how it works.

On the caregiver front, I have found someone to finish out the month with W on the M/W/F loop. She’s a friend of the Alabama nanny and SUPER sassy. When she was visiting with W this past weekend I was telling baby who she was and that they were going to have fun together and hang out and she said “We’re going to dance!” with such enthusiasm, I wanted to be around to join in. W’s never had a dancing caregiver before, I don’t think, so bring on the Ginger Rogers or Madonna moves. I inquired at daycare on Thursday as to when W might be in line for a full time spot (I know, full time seems like a lot to me, too, but I think some consistency for a while would be nice for all the family members in our household…besides, hunting for sitters SUCKS).

Just to let you know, I’ve changed Willem’s name to DJ Baby Velcro. He is going through an intense version of mommyitis and won’t let me go. Wanna hike Mt. Everest? C’mon. I’ve got the back of a tenured sherpa. He constantly wants to be held by me and no other substitute will work. I find myself lying on the floor a lot just so he has proximity to my arms and torso and I don’t have to heft his skinny frame all damn day. Problem with being on the floor is that he makes his desires to play “horse” known and his charming way of inquiring if the stable is open makes it hard for me to say no. He leans on my back, clutches my shirt and clicks his tongue like the sound of horse hooves and soon we are running through the house. My back aches just thinking about it.

More later today. It’s time to punch in at the salt mine.

Jelly Cat Weekend

After what seemed to be an eternity of Blogger downloading these pics (really, that little spinning icon gets on my nerves), here is a brief clip of Sunday...

Jelly Cat as backpack...

















Jelly Cat gets stuffed with to-go containers...

















Jelly Cat table for two...

















Sexy Chef...

TGIF

We had familial dinner at a grocery store tonight. Okay, so it’s a grocery store with a café, an outdoor eating area, a live band and a playscape but it’s still a grocery store and an overpriced one at that. BUT as we sat there with our child tucked into the indestructible plastic grocery store high chair and sipped some delicious jammy vino we bought in the wine department and waited for disco coaster to vibrate and twinkle signaling that our food was ready, we realized we were exactly where we needed to be. The place buzzed with the liveliness of families. Any other time in our life, we wouldn’t be caught dead in such an arrangement no matter how much hooch was flowing but when our child made his usual attempts at decibel violating conversation and banged his toy like a gavel in court, papa and I looked at each other and flashed purple-lipped grins knowing full well that no one was paying any attention to us. Daddy took the rugrat to the playground while I made a quick dash through the aisles to pick up edibles for the weekend. It was a perfect arrangement…dinner, vino, burn out baby’s remaining energy, pick up groceries for the weekend and call it a day. Wonderful way to end a Friday.

Little Couch Spud. Thank goodness he goes to school a couple of days a week or I'd never dress him. It's just too bloody hot to wear much.

Mighty Good

Another morning at the oasis that is the neighborhood coffee shop. Ahhh…no one knows me here except the cashier/latte maker/order taker guy and he’s getting my routine down already. One dollar tips work wonders. He even brought my nosh out to me and this place is super lo-fi on a level that you’re lucky if your breakfast taco is remotely warm. I like this crap-hole café though. It fits my groggy sensibility in the morning.

I dropped W off at school earlier. I was in a mental dither and forgot to write down when he woke up and when he last ate on a little sheet they provide. Great. Now he’s going to starve AND be sleep deprived. I phoned and left a message for his teacher but, seriously, I need to get it together. W burst into tears on my departure this time but I know he’s in good hands as long as they don’t let him take another swan dive off of the back deck. I call his facial scab his “DiNero” ‘cause it looks like he has a giant movie star mole on his mug.

The pops returns tonight with presents for me in the form of clothing and this is a new high, folks. He did buy me a foxy jacket at Anthropologie last year but gifting mama while out of town isn’t his usual routine. I’ll post the purchases later in the evening. We shall see the flava of the rockstar/dad/hubby.

Paging Mary Poppins

So I’m once again on the never-ending rollercoaster ride of finding a replacement caregiver, sitter, nanny, faux mama, whatever the hell you call those that you hope protect, love and cherish your child as much as you do (which is impossible, I know). It’s upsetting and nerve wracking and I just want to win the lottery already so I can be with my kid and not do this anymore. I read Craigslist and email strangers and they email back and then I read Craigslist some more and see WARNING: DO NOT HIRE THIS PERSON postings and I get freaked and email that poster and they send me a novel about what happened to them and how they got ripped off or that the sitter hit their kid and include the person’s real name and I wait to get emails back from those that I want to interview and hopefully the names don’t match up. I find someone I like and then they decline because our “house is too far away” or they “need more hours” or they “just got a job at Hooters.”

I took the little tyke to work today for a few hours. We are in between sitters and papa is playing some Food Fest in Albany, NY…more on that in a second. We had an all-staff staff meeting. Baby paced, clapped his hands and babbled loudly like the floor was his. He then fell down, burst into tears and didn’t stop. Thank goodness I work at a very cool place where some days are “Bring your dog to work” day. My desk is on the second floor. My child prefers the first floor and tried many times to take the stairs…alone. He tossed everything he could find in the recycling bin. He’s teething. He fussed. It was too much to bear. I can get more work done from home. There, he’s in his world and those crib walls work wonders. Plus the Herradura is to my left. So the sitter search continues. It shouldn’t be this hard but it is and always will be.

Before papa left, I told him it was okay to go to a store called H&M and buy me stuff. To my super-duper surprise, he hopped in a cab in Albany to seek out the oasis of cheap and trendy clothing and nearly landed in another town that also had the store. I think the crackhead cabbie thought he had a sucker on his hands. $40 later, papa calls, a tad frustrated, and starts asking me questions about skirt lengths, dress sizes and other dreamy topics of shopping for me. I’m thinking “Hello, is this my new gay boyfriend?” Even if papa ends up buying me clothes only Pamela Anderson-Rock can (barely) wear, he’s getting some serious lap dancing for just asking those kinds of questions. I told him to pick out whatever he liked (hee, hee) and bring it. Later he called to say he needed to purchase a duffel to bring the goods home. Although I hoped it was all threads for moi, he said he found some dude duds, too. Bueno! I can’t wait and I will share the newly purchased and picked by my husband items when he returns. I am waiting with bated breath.

Chalk Outline

Here is baby sporting his facial boo-boos from his first day at school. I wish I could say he got them saving a damsel in distress but evidently he took a step off of a short deck and proceeded to break his fall with his face. Thank goodness the scratch on his forehead is already fading.


















Here he is artistically expressing himself on the kitchen floor. He has a whole wall that is a chalk board but hey, I guess it works on the floor, too.


















This is how he crashed out in bed after a long, eventful day. Sweet dreams my little cowboy.

Coffee Camping

So guess where I am? In a coffeeshop at 9-something in the a.m. by myself! Sweet Jeebus, this rules! I took the little one to his first returning day at daycare and he was the consummate duck in water. I sat on the floor with him as the other tykes sucked on plastic toy food and he promptly scooped up a faux chocolate chip cookie and started to snack (Oh, the germs!). Snotty noses all around but I couldn’t deny his immediate level of contentment. He blended in so well that I actually had to look for him as I was putting his stuff away. There’s only about six kiddos in his class but he was so in. I told him good-bye, that I’d see him after work, and he didn’t bat an eye. Rejoice! So here I am eating a breakfast taco, drinking a huge latte, and adding yet MORE mommy blog URLs to my bookmark list. Yes people, I could get used to this.

Stress Alert

On a spontaneous whim, I bought some sushi from HEB this afternoon. I get back to my desk and see that it’s more bait than sushi. I’m not even sure fish would eat it. That’s $6 down the drain. Such a bummer. Today’s lunch is now a salty oatmeal cookie.

It’s going to be a week of craziness and because I’m expecting it to be crazy, I’ve already heightened the stress level to “unhealthy.” Tomorrow the dad figure goes out of town for three days to earn some dough so baby and I are left to our own devices (TV dinners, co-sleeping). Tomorrow the little one returns to school, an event that has me gripped with anxiety because I know the crocodile tears forming tiny ponds on the playroom floor will be hard to bear. He’s only going Tuesday/Thursdays so he’s not already locked in to being in school for like the next 25 years. Knowing my past at daycare though, I can only hope I have everything in order and nothing will spill, fall out, get left behind or broken. I’m a nitwit that way, a klutz under parenting pressure. I am excited though. I have been imagining mornings of home-based yoga, coffeeshop camping, and Target sprees for months now. Finally, they all will be mine!

I am having some of my walls painted in my house tomorrow, too, and the cleaning lady comes on Wednesday (yes, it’s a generous luxury and I openly thank papa for footing the bill). Baby will be at work with me that day and THAT should be interesting. He’s still mommy-centric but I believe arming my co-workers with baby bribery tools will encourage rapid bonding. Thursday is another day of tears (mine and his) and separation at school but I’m hoping for the best and perhaps W will be so stoked to be with other little people he won’t even know I’m gone. Friday is the debut of a new caregiver as Miss Jo is back to teaching second graders. She seems nice and to know her stuff about babies but we’ll see. As a child, my brother and I had a plethora of sub par sitters as mom tried to make ends meet while my father took jobs in Alaska on the pipeline or worked the night shift at a plant of some sort. I have foggy memories of a few of them. Certain things trigger memories of those uncomfortable days. The dry heat of space heaters, the essence of moth balls, cheese sandwiches on white bread, cigarette smoke embedded in furniture, rough blankets. I even have a few songs that take me back there, too. I call them “Bad Babysitter Songs”. The Starland Vocal Band’s “Afternoon Delight” is a big one. “Muskrat Love” by Captain and Tenille and “I Am…I Said” by Neil Diamond. Ugh. Those songs make me cringe with bad babysitter memories.

Anyway, it’s a lot to digest in one week without the daddy soundboard so I will defer to the blog instead. Onward.

Muff

Willem is the proud owner of one Baby Einstein video. He’s a pint-sized animal lover so I knew this one would be right up his alley. It goes through a series of animals in different settings, i.e. “Animals In My House,” “Animals In My Yard,” etc. This is where he learned to say “mouse” but daddy gets his panties in a wad every time he hears the little girl voice over say “mouse” because it sounds like she’s saying “muff.” I admit, it does sound like she’s saying “muff” but not that muff, I mean, much. He does his own version of the voice over with a lazy tongue and it sounds something like this, “Animaths In Mu’ Houth…muff, cath, dug,” and so on. Thankfully, W is completely absorbed by the puppets and the dancing about on the screen to notice me beating hubby with a broom to make him stop before I pee my pants laughing. There’s also a hilarious part that involves the “bug” portion of the show. A dog puppet bounces into view while a series of black dots track across the screen like a bug flying around. It sounds something like a killer bee and the dog follows it with a fly swatter in his mouth. The bug allegedly lands, the dog slowly rears back and “whack!” kills the bug. At the moment he’s about to smack it, W’s eyelashes flicker in anticipation of the attack and then he jumps out of his skin when the swatter connects. The screen fades to black and immediately after, he always says “muff.” It’s rather bizarre.

Time and Tenderness

Last night as I got settled in to bed, I was startled by a metal on metal banging sound on our deck. We have one of those balcony decks that juts off of the side of the house and is only wide enough for a barstool and a 12-pack cooler of boxed wine. I couldn’t place the racket and bravely peered out into the darkness to solve the mystery. I didn’t turn on the light to improve visibility because, honestly, I was afraid of what I’d find. If it was a stalker, robber, or baby snatcher, they’d have to come in the house before I’d take action (makes no sense really). So I got back in to bed and again with the banging. I knew there weren’t any tree branches that could be taping the metal railing as they’re all too large so I held my breath and, click, shed some light on the subject. I found, facing away from the door, a teenage possum banging his head on a metal doorstopper that was perched on the deck. Ding, ding, ding the metals rang out as they connected. I could tell this guy was seriously disturbed, maybe drunk, and definitely not long for this world. Hubby would barely look at the creature and sang out all sorts of rodent-related names. I watched it for a few minutes and begrudgingly closed the curtain, turned off the light and hoped he would make his way far, far away. And then I had a dream that my husband left for another woman (who I’d almost leave me for) in San Francisco on my birthday and I had to walk to the airport. Is there a connection? Maybe. Maybe not.

I got to spend the last two days at home with baby nursing his growing pains and the time with him has really spoiled me. I have concluded that his caregivers should pay us to hang out with him. He’s become more affectionate and interactive in the sweetest ways. When I’m squatting down to do something he either hugs my back or leans on me and makes a clack sound with his mouth meaning he wants to hop on my back while I gallop around the house like an indoor pony. This old gray mare can only make it a couple of laps before I have to put him down to catch my breath. He pats me constantly like a reassuring therapist, stands on my legs when I sit on the floor and spins tales of baby life and adventures in his own language. He totally makes me laugh. He starts back to school next week and I’m sure it will feed his growing spirit. He’ll have lots to babble about then.

We are in the midst of changes in this household of ours…return to school, new sitters, daddy tours, new record release, increased workload at the job, Mexico vacation, landscaping projects…and the list goes on. Please stick around to hear more about this circus that is our lives. It should be fun (or funny, at the least).

Baby Labor

To earn his keep, W has to water the lawn.

Will Make Dinner For Sex

When the father figure is home, I get some insanely delicious meals. I open the freezer and scoff at the pile of frozen veggie meals within. Let it be known that he wasn’t always an excellent cook but with time and the realization that he’d starve waiting for this busy (I originally wrote “busty”) mama to whip something together, he’s become an accomplished at-home chef. Last night he prepared a meal that rocked my world so hard that he got lucky. The complete menu is in the most recent issue of Gourmet. It’s the one with pasta with tomatoes and basil and other stuff.

As the assistant to the head cook, I was in charge of grilling ears of corn and a huge salmon filet. It would’ve been no big deal had I not had a child attached to my hip who was spilling out of his diapers with curiosity. I tonged seven ears of corn (some to be used in tonight’s dinner performance which might include a lap dance for papa if I really, really like it…) over blazing coals as Willem made hand gestures and mimicked my “hot” warnings. We swapped sweat beads at the salmon sizzled and the ears roasted. I expertly balanced baby and my glass of wine. At 8:30 p.m. the meal was served and baby was sound asleep. We lingered over the fare with champagne and more vino and it was glorious. We floated up the stairs to the bedroom and canoodled like the birds and the bees. We vowed to make every Sunday’s meal as memorable as the Sunday prior. The bar has been set and I can’t wait until the end of the week.

We took W to the neighborhood swimming pool this weekend. We’re fortunate to have one that also has a separate kiddie pool with water 8 inches to 2 feet deep. This was the first time daddy had accompanied us to the cement pond and only my second time to take baby there but W’s caregivers have been taking him all summer. It was an almost paralyzing shock to witness how quickly the friendliness of the pool can turn into a horrific scene. W likes to walk everywhere and he won’t let you hold his hand as he strolls through the water. He wades in slow motion along the edges and sometimes ventures towards the depths unknowingly. A pause, a small wave and suddenly he goes under. He went backwards and was quickly submerged, his eyes wide open, his mouth agape and taking in water. He was only under for 2 seconds but it was enough to scare the bejeebus out of us. Water shot out of his nose as he caught his breath and choked on tears. I didn’t leap out of the pool and make a big deal of it (although my legs were weak and my heart was racing) but merely calmed him and over time, he was ready to take on the chlorine sea again. Of course, papa and I were just sick that we had allowed him to be taken to the pool by his caregivers and are completely grateful that nothing bad ever happen but no more pool outings. He’ll be dog paddling at home in his inflatable pond for a while.

Oh, and one more thing. How in the hell can I get my baby to sit down while taking a bath? For the love of God, doesn’t he realize that standing up in a giant claw foot with super tall, porcelain edges and slippery, wet limbs is a trick David Blaine won’t attempt? I know the chrome handles tempt him and he can’t help polishing them with his saliva but that’s what the housecleaner is for (but she uses a cleaner, not her own saliva). I gently sit his naked butt down and it’s game over, bath over, “Get me the heck out of here, how dare you mess with my rubber duckiness and soapy mojo.” I’m thinking of attaching suction cups to his behind.

Baby Einstein Or Great Imitator

A SAHM friend of mine, who should really have her own blog because she is SERIOUSLY funny, sent me an email the other day regarding the development of my little boy wonder. She has a sweet, beautiful son who is a couple of months older than mine but is continuing on the baby path of development he should be on. She mentioned that while being home with baby 24/7 is wonderful thing, a little walking, talking or use of a sippy cup would be a welcomed change. The thought really compelled me to consider what my child is accomplishing and here is what I concluded…

Quite simply, he’s growing up a little too damn fast.

Walking at 9.5 months is ludicris! That was the same weekend he mastered the crawling on all fours thing. Prior to that he was a stationary pup moving his arms and legs as if swimming for his life in an imaginary tide. He’d barely figured out the military crawl when he was all, “To hell with this, I’m walking away from this crawling crap.” Now he just goes and goes and goes and yes, it is awesome so long as you don’t mind things in the household customized by a toddler.

He also decided one day that he no longer wanted to a bottle. He refused it, gave it the finger and never looked back. He still nurses at least twice a day which is a blessing because he loathes formula. Now he’s a sippy cup, juice box, boob baby.

He’s also passionate about the books he’s interested in and won’t stick around to hear the next sentence of a book that’s not on his listening list. Right now his current favorites ping between Crawlies Creep and All Mommies Love Their Babies. You try to start The Very Hungry Caterpillar and his little hands slam down and, wham, the book is closed with sparks flying.

He’s a great imitator of sounds, something he may have gotten in the gene pool from my side of the family. Both my brother and I can imitate sounds well and used to amuse our childhood friends with the talent (or curse). Fire truck sirens, a dog howling, a “Yeehaw” belted out by mama, W’s doing them almost pitch perfect. It’s eerie and makes you seriously aware of what you are doing or what your immediate environment is providing to him as learning tools. We must seriously monitor our potty mouths in the Z household.

When he’s in his own world, he babbles with the seriousness of a CEO reporting a quarterly loss, he gestures like a Baptist preacher, he paces like a worried Jewish mother. It’s all strange and curious to witness. What have I bred and brought into this world. Is he normal? And if not, will I know how to give him everything he needs? What’s looming around the corner and will there be explanations for it all. I’ve got a lot of research to do and I’m way behind on my parenting books.

Little Mr. Ultra-Dramatic

Whatever

One of the disadvantages of having evenings sans the dad figure is that when I tuck in to bed and turn on the tube for about an hour of viewing, I find myself watching the most horrific and sad programs. Basically, I cry myself to sleep. I bounce between shows about a little 3-year-old with dwarfism or some other form of deficiency to real-life jetliners about to crash or the disappearance of someone’s child. Pygmy families could be disputing in the rainforest and as soon as a child bursts in to tears, I follow suit. I didn’t used to be this way, all soft and mushy and venerable to the tube but I know it all started when I got pregnant. I remember crying at diaper commercials, touching highlight reels of families reuniting and forget about TLC. That channel made me a basketcase. These days I’m just a sensitive ponytail type (but mess with my kid and I will be Dante’s nine levels of hell wrapped in a tidy little package).

In the babyland department, I put moleskin on the metal edges of our bed frame to protect my child’s larger-than-average noggin from whacking it as he practices running on the carpet. He discovered the improvement yesterday and proceeded to test it out by purposefully taping his forehead on it over and over and over. Makes a mom proud.

Speaking of running, the dad is convinced that baby’s big toes that resemble thumbs are what allowed him to begin walking at 10 months. I’m sad to report that he has his mom’s feet. Wanna see?

The time I spend with W is so valuable to me especially since I work a full-time gig that becomes insanely busy every March. There are moments, however, when my parenting skills are lackluster and responses like “That’s not for baby.” degrade to “Whateverrrrrrr.” Since he can already say mou (mouse), kee kee (cat), mama, dada, and tree, I’m sure he’s on the verge of spouting “whateverrrrr” any minute. But that won’t be before he says “jackass,” my favorite curse word while driving.

Baby & Me

It’s time for another episode of “Pretend Single Parenting with Mrs. Fantasy!” This is a shortened version as papa is only in the studio three days this week. Last night, baby and I gorged on chicken fried steak, creamed corn and French fries from Hyde Park Bar & Grill before turning down the lights and relaxing in the La-Z-Boy, like a couple of stuffed teenagers, to watch some rotten cable programming. I was sawing logs by 10:30 and managed a full eight hours of sleep which is the BEST! We had a full morning of waffles, Elmo, and “can you guess where I’m hiding while I poop in my diaper?” Daddy came in from the back house all disheveled from abbreviated sleep but with that warm, contented grin of a proud family member.

Little W is heading back to school next month. You will soon be privy to a blogged collection of mishaps and mistakes (mostly performed by moi). Yesterday I received a call from the school Willem went to when he was this young…






















and they said they had an upcoming vacancy for a Tuesday/Thursday slot. Hallelujah! Since I knew his wonderful nanny was soon to return to educating other people’s snotty nosed dear ones, I had begun a search to find a place to put him on a part-time basis for starters. I wanted to see what other schools were in the ‘hood but it didn’t take long for me to find myself dialing his old school like it was a 911 emergency. I visited a place not too far away and came home completely horrified at what I glimpsed and smelled. I was told by a few folks that this school is a “good one.” En route to work I can always see the little tykes in their diapers barefoot and frolicking about behind a little picket fence but what is beyond the fence is another story. What was supposed to be community water play looked more like puddles and pools of bacterial soup to me. What was supposed to be patio body painting looked like a case pending for a personal injury lawyer. What was supposed to be an edamame snack for toddlers looked like a) a child labor situation with tiny baby de-beaners at work, b) a potential staff-wide refresher course on the infant Heimlich Maneuver. The school smelled of mildewed carpet and staleness. As I was shown around, I wondered if everyone just ignored the offending stink or was just used to it. Shelves were dusty with unused toys, things seemed to be teetering at curious angles ready to collapse, and I felt claustophobic. I could be over-reacting here but this is my interpretation and my interpretation was scared of this mess. Thankfully, we are bound for familiar surroundings and I can’t wait!

Pepto Dismal

Oh, land of stomachaches! I feel nauseous today and it won’t go away. It’s not the “I could be preggers” kind of nausea. We all know that no action in the marital chambers = no baby number two. Maybe it was something I ate last night but the tuna seemed so fresh. Maybe it was the margarita followed by the tequila shot that I gulped. Perhaps it’s because my sweet son decided to be a little rooster this morning and roused me from an abbreviated slumber at 5 a.m. I thought for sure, as per his usual M.O., he’d be back in bed two hours later and I could grab a couple more hours of shut eye before the “TGIF” workday ensued, but nooooooo. He buzzed around like the Energizer Bunny, unstoppable in his cheery solo parade. Four hours later, he had emptied his batteries and was ready to call it a morning. I, on the other hand, had to get ready for work. OR maybe I am filling ill because I spent part of the morning watching shark attacks on YouTube. The movement of the waves, the sharks eating things dead and alive, the seasickness. Whoa is me.

My Baby Daddy

Marriage is tough, there’s no doubt about that, but when it’s good, it’s really good. The angels sing, rainbows abound and gumdrops fall from the sky. No, that’s from a childhood cartoon.

It’s been nice to have the father figure home every night since the middle of last week. It’s a challenge to get him to slow down and direct his attention to the little fam as we perform tricks for his viewing pleasure. After W goes down for the evening (after he’s had his snack, brushed his two teeth, read no less than 9 books and we’ve unearthed at least 2 binkies) papa and I dig in for two. By the way, last night’s dinner was off the chart! Pan-Seared Halibut with Tomato Vinaigrette, garlic and herb cous-cous and roasted asparagus. All very easy to prepare and not time consuming in the least. I highly recommend giving it a try. We sipped from two bottles of vino and paddled around in tipsy conversation over candlelight. Yep, I’m getting spoiled real fast. Of course, I did hit the pillow at 10:30 p.m. but with a contented smile on my face. Bliss.

The cleaning lady came yesterday and picked up all of the random hairs and dust and crumbs around the house. She even wiped out the fridge. She rules. I found her vacuuming the stairs with her headphones on her head when I got home. She had the vacuum hose in one hand and the duster in the other as she ran it along the wood trim of the landing. She’s a cleaning machine, folks, and she sews so if you’re looking to treat yourself to a clean house and clothes that fit, she’s got Tuesday’s open.

All In The Family

People, it’s freakin’ hot here. Supposed to be 101 today but feels like 11,101. Toss in 42% humidity and sprinkle on higher than usual levels of ozone and you’ve got yourself a version of hell. Thank goodness for AC and iced tea. I feel for all of those who labor outdoors this time of year. Yes, I am counting my blessings.

So I noticed the other day in my neighborhood newsletter that we are a cluster of kick ass family dwellings that TNR cats. TNR is an acronym for "trap-neuter-release.” Evidently you can distinguish these felines from the others by the 1/4" missing from one ear tip. Studies show that this is a more effective and less expensive means to control the stray and feral population. I think they should do this to sexual predators that live in our neighborhood, too...neuter them and then cut off a part of their ear so we’d know who they are from a distance. Just a thought.

Didn’t do much last night with the fam except soak them up like a dishtowel. Baby took to the stairs again (I forgot to mention that the other night when he was supposedly reading his books in his room, he was actually scaling the stairs. I stepped out for just a moment to help the dad with something in the kitchen and I thought to myself…”Hmmm, he sure is quiet.” Lo’ and behold, as I was making a dash to see where he was, I saw a flash of baby in the corner of my eye and he was making his final effort to reach the top stair! Egads! He’s a baby mountain goat!). Anyway, while I was covering him like an ump at a little league game, Willem climbed the steps. Daddy swooped by and planted a couple of kisses on Mama and evidently they were loud because Willem puckered up like a fish and started sucking air. Over and over, he made the smooching sound and it really became obvious to me how much he absorbs even when you think he’s not paying attention.

Papa made a pasta dish for dinner and let me tell you, it was delish! Proscuitto, peas, grated lemon, whipping cream…aaahhh. We also watched our all time favorite show, Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, who, by the way, is currently stranded in Beirut . From what I’ve read though, he’s safe, partying his skinny ass off and drinking the city dry of it’s mojito makin’s. What else would you expect from the man? Seriously though, I'm sure this is a horrific scene and one they (the crew) won't soon forget. In last night’s episode filmed in Peru, he ate grilled Guinea Pig (“Hello, classroom pet!”) and swilled a homemade beverage in which its fermentation process is begun with saliva. I gag just thinking about it. But, he has the life, no?

Jelly Cat

On my desk: a refillable container of candy corn (Ack! The addiction has started early this year. It’s still 3.5 months until Halloween. I’m screwed!)

In my desk: Smarties, mini Kit Kats, Odwalla bars for when I feel guilty about all of the candy.

In Hugh & Shawn’s office: two overflowing bowls of candy, candy, gum and candy

In the kitchen at the office: today, there’s birthday cake and there’s usually donuts courtesy of Hugh

I sit on my duff a lot these days. Never thought I would ever have a desk job. Yes, on occasion, I am out with a client throwing a bash they won’t soon forget but until those specific dates, it’s the Secretary Spread for me. Tweedle dee.

I have mentioned before that my son’s favorite stuffed animal is Jelly Cat who took the place of sock monkey a few months back. Jelly Cat has a tail about 2.5 feet long, is shaped like a pear and filled with some sort of beans which makes it very heavy for a 10-month-old to carry. Willem is in the process of building some major biceps and triceps toting this thing around. You mention Jelly Cat and he’s off to find him. He’s so determined in his efforts to lug it around. This sometimes ends with a crash as the tyke is consistently knocked off balance by the load (or his melon head). He loves his JC, that’s for sure.

































Hairy melon head...

Birthday Party

Willem attended his first kiddie birthday party today. The b-day girl’s name is Harper and she turned 3. Her backyard was outfitted with two big inflatable pools and there was a lovely cement pond for the big kids to lounge in. Curious George was the theme (her mommy put her foot down when Dora The Explorer was requested) and with approximately 15 little ones running around, it was all curious business. I dressed Willem in his flaming swim trunks sans a swimmer diaper (Walgreen’s doesn’t carry them btw and not having any was a last minute discovery) and prayed that no turds surfaced anywhere. I took him over to the plastic pools where his potential posse was frolicking about. He took one look at the group and let me know he was having none of it and promptly headed for the adult pond for some swim time. He was quite content out there with his daddy. He’s such a big boy now, all walking and taking initiatives with abandoned cans of beer. He even tried to kiss a girl about 20-something his senior. He had his Walden moments as he’d wander out in to the yard and plop his soggy butt in the grass and play with small leaves. He missed his afternoon nap so I had prepared for the worst but he was pretty even keeled and charming. The highlight to him was discovering Harper’s doll stroller with a naked boy baby in it. He would’ve pushed that baby to our house if I’d let him.

Baby Band

Here is a pictorial inspired by the dad...

"This next tune is called Biter Biscuit..."

















"Now if I could just get my fingers to go way...over...there..."

















"The piano has been drinking...not meeeeeee..."

















"Must kill 'em with this bad ass ending..."

















"Mmmm...craft services back stage rocked!"

















"I sold HOW MUCH merch?"

Because I Completely Support This Cause

We all know good and well that most musicians struggle to make ends meet. While we go and support their art, it's not enough for them to live on much less provide the means to take care of their medical needs. I support SIMS and want you to consider doing the same. Here's how you can do just this...

SIMS is holding an eBay auction July 11-20 to raise funds to provide counseling and other mental health services for Austin-area musicians and their families (www.simsfoundation.org).

Here’s a link to the eBay auction (where you can find photos and descriptions):
http://search.ebay.com/_W0QQfgtpZ1QQfrppZ25QQsassZsimsQ5faustin .

Items up for bidding include:

ART GUITARS (Gibson Les Paul electric guitars, custom-designed):
Mike Judge’s portrait of “Butthead”
Bob Schneider’s abstract, “Rock, Sex, Drugs, and Roll”
Billy Gibbons’ (ZZ Top) “Gold Signature”
Robert Hurst’s “Jimmy Page Tribute”
Terry Allen’s “Guitarred and Feathered”

MORE GUITARS:
Gibson ZiegenBock Les Paul, signed by various Austin artists including Ray Benson, Redd Volkaert, Bob Schneider, Marcia Ball, del Castillo, and more
Jimmie Vaughn Autographed Fender Tex-Mex Stratocaster with detailed pinstripe decoration

OTHER ITEMS:
Austin’s Music and Entertainment Television: bid on a chance to visit the studio and film a video break
Bob Schneider autographed art book, titled “I have seen the end of the world and it looks like this”
David Garza Artwork and Lyrics
Gift Certificate for Inn & Spa at Loretto in Santa Fe, New Mexico

The Latest In ‘Da Crib

It’s been a week of redundancies but delicious, snuggly, babbling baby redundancies while I wait for the dad figure to finish recording his record (which only means he’ll soon be back in the studio to mix it, polish it up and make it purdy for the masses). My floors are dirty, the cupboard is bare and my son’s wonderful sitter/teacher can’t spell the word “hamster.” You see, she was asking on a certain free website for some small animals to be donated to her new class of second graders. Because she has a lot on her mind (like taking care of the most important baby in the world, untangling herself from a yucky relationship and the serious illness of her mother), she missed the fact that her right pinkie finger typed a letter “P” and hence, she was looking for a “hampster.” Honest mistake, really. Hey, I used to spell “chicken” with a “H” thus creating “chickhen” and it made complete sense to me. Anyway, this guy emailed her with his panties in a wad and was all “You’re a teacher and you can’t spell…blah, blah…you should know better, tsk, tsk, nanny, nanny boo-boo” and made her feel really bad (like she didn’t feel bad enough already ‘cause, seriously, her mom is VERY ill in a cancer sort of way). I’m wondering if this jackass even had a hamster to give her and if not, why was he reading the listing, and if he does have a hamster then he can stick it up his butt. She’s an amazing caregiver, my son LOVES her, and I’m certain she’s a damn good educator, too.

Here is the little Houdini now...

She Blinded Me With Science

One of my sister-in-laws on my husband’s side, Marty/Martha/Myrtle the Turtle (don’t know why the family calls her that), is a real live scientist. Conjures up images of bad white hair, bubbling beakers, and stiff lab coats, huh? She's nothing like that. She lives in Santa Cruz with her sweet hubby and spends many hours of the days putting together proposals and giving presentations on scientific stuff that would blow your mind but more details on that in a minute. She also emails me on a regular basis which is nice because a) I’m getting to know her better, and b) she is full of good/interesting/supportive info. Just the other day she sent me the lyrics to this Bob Dylan song called “Lord, Protect My Child” and I wanted to share it with you, dear readers…

Lord, Protect My Child
Bob Dylan (1983)

For his age, he's wise
He's got his mother's eyes
There's gladness in his heart
He's young and he's wild
My only prayer is, if I can't be there,
Lord, protect my child

As his youth now unfolds
He is centuries old
Just to see him at play makes me smile
No matter what happens to me
No matter what my destiny
Lord, protect my child

While the world is asleep
You can look at it and weep
Few things you find are worthwhile
And though I don't ask for much
No material things to touch
Lord, protect my child

He's young and on fire
Full of hope and desire
In a world that's been raped, raped and defiled
If I fall along the way
And can't see another day
Lord, protect my child

Really resonated with me.

So, back to what she does. Right now she’s working on the immunological tolerance in a mouse model. She says understanding the tolerance is important for our existence. When it fails, certain diseases develop (MS, cancer cells escape detection, etc.) Also contributes to organ transplant rejection. They use engineered mice to study the tolerance using a skin grafting model. I know, it sounds cruel but necessary, right? Then the mice prepare a speech for the scientists about their experience with the grafting…what it felt like, how it messed with their fur appearance, what the other mice thought…no, I’m just kidding but honestly, this study is no laughing matter. She’s also waiting on approval from our frat boy president for a NASA project that will someday involve sending people to Mars (“Hey, let’s go pollute another planet!). NASA is interested in knowing exactly how ionizing radiation affects our genes, brains, and tissues. She wrote a proposal for it that involves newborn human foreskin (!), more of those mice with spare time on their hands, and ionizing radiation. Sci-fi, no? There’s more to it all. I’m just paraphrasing what she told me but it’s fascinating. And to remind you, I know a real live scientist.

And...Action!

I recently found our camcorder and could just kick myself for not documenting more of my child’s past 9 months of his life (like blogging and photos aren’t enough). Hubby found a snippet of film on it shot when baby was a mere two weeks and some change and I couldn’t believe that it was me in the video with this tiny baby. I looked so puffy, so lost, so in love, so tired, just winging it. There I am changing him in the closet on his changing table in the apartment we had to live in before we could move back in to the house. There I am with his little frame in my lap and taping his hands together playing patty cake. There’s daddy giving the burrito swaddle an honest go and handing the baby my way as he begins to squawk. I felt like I was watching someone else’s life. It was so surreal…and sweet.

Over the last few weeks in an attempt to make up for lost time, I have begun filming W doing everything. I am desperately clinging to his baby days as I also watch them go drifting by. Lately, I have felt that I need to quit my job and be there for all of the milestones, to share in his sweet world. I go to work feeling conflicted and angry that I’m not there for him. It’s hard and I guess most working moms go through this.

The other day I was watching the clips of things I had filmed and it wasn’t until I had started watching the 5th clip that I realized I start each one by saying “Hey, what are you doing?” I say it EVERY TIME like any minute W’s going to respond. “Well, mom, I’m putting these plastic magnetic letters in my mouth now.” or “I’m walking to the window.” or “I’m unraveling the toilet paper and eating it.” Do I do that to him all of the time? Do I have to ask because I really don’t know or am I just trying to make conversation? I think I’ll go back and re-edit it with a Star Wars score or something. That repetitive question isn’t very groundbreaking plus it’s annoying.

So, hubby is in the studio recording a new record. Yea! He’s been in there since Wednesday and will finish up on Tuesday. That means that I only get to see him in the morning when I go out to the studio to wake him or he comes in on his own accord to take over baby duty till the sitter arrives. It’s lonely and it’s almost like he’s out on the road touring or something. We have this arrangement where he sleeps out back so he can stay out as late as he needs to and doesn’t wake me when he finally comes home. He also gets to sleep in because there’s no baby drooling on him to wake up or Elmo singing in his ear. It’s a necessary situation so he can get work done and I can get a full night’s sleep. But like I said it’s mighty lonely in pretend single mom land this week.

Free Willy

Over the weekend on a rainy day, 5.5 (the .5 being Willem) of us piled into the car and headed to the aquarium in Corpus, just a short drive away from the beach house. As we crossed the great arched bridge that towered over our destination, we noticed the mammoth snake-like line of people with the same brilliant idea as ours. We all moaned and slumped in our seats like disappointed children. What’s worse than jockeying for position in front of a small wall of glass hoping to catch a glimpse of what is too terrified to swim out of its hiding place? We didn’t bring the stroller to the beach house and I’d forgotten the sling at home so I rigged a makeshift version with my sarong and stuffed baby in there as we ventured out to find our place in line. Thankfully, the rain was light but my load wasn’t. When we entered the sardine can of fish and warm bodies, I noticed a sign that said “Stroller rentals - $3.” Halleluiah! About the same time, a woman swooped out of nowhere and claimed the last one. Foiled! We collectively scrambled to the dolphin show that was just beginning. Of course the crowd was about 10 people deep so we decided to go down below the performance pool where the underwater version could be viewed…sorta. You could see the lower half of the poor dolphins race about, shoot out of water and come crashing back down like bags of sand. They had scratches on their bodies resembling graffiti tags and seemed cramped on their aquatic stage. It was heartbreaking. My son really could’ve cared less about the main event and only wanted to put his mouth on the railing and touch the hair of people sitting around us. The highlight of the show was when one of the dolphins pooped. That, I’m sad to say, got the biggest reaction from the group.

We pushed our way out and made the rounds trying to view turtles, sharks, otters, and other captive animals. Willem wanted to lead his own tour and nearly disappeared in a sea of kneecaps and Bermuda shorts. Next he decided it was time to nurse and made his trademark “tap the keg” sounds and ducked down in the general vicinity of said kegs (I make them sound HUGE, don’t I?). He twisted and fussed as I tried to discreetly yank one out. The sarong helped with the coverage issue but the situation was still very apparent to those with wandering eyes (i.e. bored daddies, single daddies, young and old daddies). We all wandered around aimlessly, trying to find the value in the money spent and soon decided to throw in the towel. We half-heartedly piled back into the car, headed back and FINALLY finished watching the 3-day long movie, King Kong. Are you kidding me? That movie stunk! And what was with all of those giant bug scenes? Don’t even get me started.

Nearly The Tenth Month

My sweet, little Id,

Mommy is wondering when she can officially call you a toddler. Is it when you are walking and talking and can throw a fit? This past month you have tapped into your own version of them all. Although you are barely 10 months old, you have managed to change the whole landscape of what was once a quiet, peaceful place where butterflies landed on our hands and rainbows were around every corner.


















Now it’s a three-ring circus with you as the clown, the monkey, and the hoop jumping dog, the sword swallower and the ferocious lion. I am merely an audience member completely enraptured in your performances but sometimes I have to wield the megaphone and play the ringleader to rein you in. You practiced walking this weekend on the beach. It was a great place for you to do the step, step, step, stumble, step mambo. You’d release my finger on your initiative and head for the deep blue see while heaving with excitement. You know the greatness of what you’ve accomplished and do it with much fervor and happiness. You have since applied the technique to indoor travel and this has just about made me completely grey. You come at me like you are about to eat me; arms spread for balance, a baby Godzilla in our home. What was once a forest of potential bumps and bruises is now a jungle of likely gashes and abrasions. Just last night, you were creeping along the living room wall and as I walked into the kitchen I happened to turn to look your way and you were right behind me with that wide-eyed thrilled expression. I could’ve tripped over you so easily! You also nearly managed to put a hole in the sheet rock with that noggin’ of yours when you took a spill after racing across the office. I really hate to see your efforts thwarted but I guess that’s part of learning. Baby proofing the house is the project for the week. Tonight I will look for a bell to clip to your diaper so I know where you are at all times.

You have finally grown two lovely little pearls for teeth and they make you look so animated and cuter, if you can believe that! I bought you toothpaste and a toothbrush for them today so we’ll soon make that part of the already lengthy bedtime routine. I know you’ll love it as it's already a challenge prying your tiny hands away from my toothbrush.

















Your little vocabulary is full of sounds and sounds that could be words. You imitate me like a parrot and I am realizing how easily you could make “jackass” a part of your verbal repertoire. I “yee-haw!” and you do the same without words. A dog barks and you bark. A fire truck goes by and after it’s long gone you are making the sound of the siren. You yelled “Iggy! Iggy! Igg!”, the name of your uncle, over the weekend and it first happened at the grocery with Igg and Daddy. You were in the produce section blurting his name like you had a say in his taste in grocery items. The best is when you are in your own little world, standing alone and speaking a language from deep in your throat like a you’re using an electrolarynx. You gesture with one hand like a dictator and mutter with raised eyebrows and tilts of the head as if you are giving a thoughtful speech. What will you be when you grow up?

















You love your daddy and there’s no doubting that. He’s recently become someone you know you can trust and find comfort from when needed. You are completely enraptured when he starts singing or plays the guitar, his biggest fan. I love hearing the two of you interacting with your own language and conversations. He’s not your typical daddy and this makes you a very lucky little boy.

I can’t imagine how much more growing you are going to do before your first birthday. I really just want you to slow down a little bit because it’s all going so fast. These growth spurts are too much for your mommy to handle. I don’t want to miss a moment so try and take it a little slower.

Love,
Mom

Because I'm At Work

Here's how the hair turned out (yes, I took this photo myself)...



Of course, it looks nothing like this today. I slept on it wet and am now sporting some savage cowlicks in back because I didn't have time to fix it this morning. Thankfully, it's still long enough to put put into a pig tail (twas once a pony tail but tis now the length of a sow's).

I've much more to write but that will be for later today. Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!

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.