On Wednesday I had a circuit training class at the gym. I spent all the next day being sore. Today the aches subsided everywhere but for one new location - my extreme lower abs. I haven't been so aware of that region since I was pregnant.
It's really odd because I can feel the muscles slightly contracting and flexing and it feels just like fetal movements felt. It's the same kind of fluttering. I stood in the breakroom today, nuking my lunch, and contemplated just where my uterus lies within me. It's hard to believe how much abdominal space was taken up by carrying a baby. I tried to mentally picture how big my belly had gotten by the end. And then it hit me: that anonymous fetus I was envisioning is Kirk.
It's strange how easy it is to separate pregnancy from the actual child. But I wonder if it's another maternal coping mechanism to get us to do it again? As we get closer and closer to September and the much joked about going-off-the-Pill-while-in-France trip, doing it again becomes a much bigger possibility. Am I ready for that? Even having been through it, pregnancy still freaks me out. Just because I can remember what it was like doesn't make it any less odd. Sure, there's no fear of the unknown like when facing down childbirth for the first time. But now there's something worse: fear of the known. I'm going to have to focus on my Bene Gesserit training to get through it.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Before and After
Kirk's hair was out of control. It is still very fine and thin but it frizzes and tangles and was just a mess when he'd get up in the morning or after a nap. Mr. b said that it was long enough that he was asked several times if Kirk was a boy or a girl - when he was wearing jammies or some other gender neutral outfit. So on Friday we bought a set of clippers. Mr. b put it on the second highest setting, Kirk sat on my lap, and a haircut occured. He was such a good boy during the whole thing! And I think he looks really cute now, though I can't decide if it makes him look older or not.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Bite Me
Kirk’s been a bit bitey of late. He thinks it’s hilarious. We’ll tell him that it’s actually naughty but he’ll exclaim, "Funny!", laugh and run away. So we’ve been trying to point out that he doesn’t like it when the kitty bites him and we don’t like it when he bites us. All bites are naughty. Apparently at least some of it is sinking in. This afternoon I received the following email from K, subject line "Did Kirk get into a tussle with the cat?"
BWAH!
Kirk just woke up from nap a little while ago, and when he had finished his juice and found the popper and generally woken up all the way, he started on his story. It seems to go "morning, kitty, bite... naughty." : ) So I don't know who the kitty bit (or if it was even today!), but apparently he's feeling pretty strongly about the kitty getting in trouble right now.
BWAH!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
June is Merc Rage Month!
Is it against the Mommy Rules to get a babysitter in secret, that arrives after your kid has already gone to bed? I just feel like it would be too much to go out on Friday to the Mercurial Rage CD listening party, even though I really want to. Tonight my entire family met for Chinese buffet and Kirk got all hopped up on sugar and cousins. Tomorrow we're getting a sitter so Mr. b and I can go out for steak dinner and a movie to celebrate my birthday. Then Saturday the girls are sleeping over. The poor boy needs a break! But still, I want to go out on Friday night, too.
Friday, May 25, 2007
You Could be a Beau Brummell, Baby
Last week I found myself dressed rather like my college self. Mod plaid hat, head band, Farscape sweatshirt (OK, that would have been an anachronism), punk rawk belt, plaid pants, red sneakers. Me of 10+ years ago would have loved to have that outfit! But it's mildly out of character for the me of today. Now I tend to wear things like wide-legged, cuffed, grey linen trousers/black, satin, capped-sleeve, ruffle-front shirt/grey silk headband or black tulip shirt/three-quarters sleeve light blue button-down shirt/pearl necklace. But since I was at a programming class, I dressed down instead of how I normally look at work. Not that I couldn't wear that to work. Hell, most of the people there dress extremely casually. However, I've been consciously wearing more career appropriate (What Would Jan Wear) and age appropriate clothing since I came back from maternity leave.
But that phrase "age appropriate" sure is loaded! I don't know when it became an insult. Hipsters love to snark on the old guy in the club but they still all wear the current uniform of skinny jeans, wrinkled T, and artfully touseled hair. Khakis are for The Man, man! Don't interfere with my creativity! But just how creative is it to find a funny t-shirt online, buy it, and add it to your collection?
I think my problem is that I am just finally getting to the age I wanted to dress as all along. Even as a kid wearing hand-me-downs from my older cousins I wanted to be sophisticated. I can remember specific purchases from The Limited and Express that I bought in junior high and wore despite their being completely wrong for me. I wanted to wear luxe fabrics with intricate detailing - basically the ideal presented in my brain from too many viewings of The Gay Divorcee. Once I realized that was quite simply unattainable (and yes, my innate laziness was/is most definitely a factor), I kind of over corrected and, as Mr. b so lovingly put it, started dressing like a clown. I wore the most garish colors and prints I could find. I layered anything together with anything else. Pucci prints and Lady Miss Kier catsuits and 60s mod mini-dresses and enormous flower earrings and plastic children's barrettes and tiered peasant skirts and patchwork hats and garlands of plastic beads. I was every fad from every time period, chewed up and puked out. My love of fashion and history combined to overtake my common sense. Sudden weight gain after college did nothing to break me of years of bad dressing habits. I could no longer pull off the 20s Flapper drop-waisted dresses, 90s Raver tiny tops and big pants, or the 60s minis that my old curveless body fit so well. So instead I just hid under piles of boy clothes. Styles and trends don't matter when you're doing fieldwork anyway. I had always sewn for myself (probably another reason for my chaotic satorial choices) but I suddenly stopped because I was no longer my own perfectly sized model.
Since joining the ranks of corporate American, I've come to remember my inital, tailored desires. Part of me wonders if it's because I now have the curves required to fill out the skirt suits of the 30s and 40s. I love the look of what Katherine Gerdes termed the "Target Girls" and totally hope to attain that level of chicness myself. The catch is that if I begin wearing slacks and jackets, the assumption is that I am giving up my "creativity", either due to corporate zombie-ism or because I'm a mom and moms always stop dressing cool. Or else they shop in the Junior's department with their daughter and that's just sad.
But I don't think that being a mom has anything to do with my love of being on trend. I don't think that following the adage of "dressing for the job that you want" proves you can't think for yourself. And I don't think that being stylish means giving up your individuality. I think dressing my age is empowering. As much as Stacy and Clinton have hammered into the heads of legions of women that you need to dress for your size, regardless of what that size is, I find their secondary message of mature style much more gratifying. I was browsing through a thrift shop a few weeks ago and realized that I'm just not interested in those over-the-top vintage items anymore. Give me classic clean lines anyday. Betsey Johnson is fun in theory but I'd rather wear Chanel.
The problem with voicing this opinion is that you come off as bitter. Bitter that you're old and used up. That you're tied down domestically and can't run amok. Bitter that you can't fit into slutty hootchie clothes. And I think that's extremely unfair. I remember an episode of Sex in the City where some woman at a bar was saying that she doesn't need to go out and canoodle with any random guys that cross her path and that she's happy to be settled down into a predictable pattern. The words were nice but her bitchface and her harsh voice implied that it was all a lie.
I had a lovely conversation with a friend several months ago, reminiscing about all the fun times, fun shows, fun parties. We agreed that while it was nice to remember, it's so much better to be in the now.
So the trick is to not get distracted by naysayers and doubters and try to put all this sartorial philosophy into action. Shopping is hard. Off the rack never really fits well and while I hate doing my own tailoring, I'm also too lazy to bring pieces to a proper tailor shop. And I'm cheap. And I've got the cliche mom mindset that I should spend money on everything and everyone but myself. So the first step is to purge my wardrobe of those plaid pants. The legs are too short, the waist is too wide, they're totally 90s (check out early season Rachel on Friends, no butt pockets look good on no one), and completely unflattering.
But that phrase "age appropriate" sure is loaded! I don't know when it became an insult. Hipsters love to snark on the old guy in the club but they still all wear the current uniform of skinny jeans, wrinkled T, and artfully touseled hair. Khakis are for The Man, man! Don't interfere with my creativity! But just how creative is it to find a funny t-shirt online, buy it, and add it to your collection?
I think my problem is that I am just finally getting to the age I wanted to dress as all along. Even as a kid wearing hand-me-downs from my older cousins I wanted to be sophisticated. I can remember specific purchases from The Limited and Express that I bought in junior high and wore despite their being completely wrong for me. I wanted to wear luxe fabrics with intricate detailing - basically the ideal presented in my brain from too many viewings of The Gay Divorcee. Once I realized that was quite simply unattainable (and yes, my innate laziness was/is most definitely a factor), I kind of over corrected and, as Mr. b so lovingly put it, started dressing like a clown. I wore the most garish colors and prints I could find. I layered anything together with anything else. Pucci prints and Lady Miss Kier catsuits and 60s mod mini-dresses and enormous flower earrings and plastic children's barrettes and tiered peasant skirts and patchwork hats and garlands of plastic beads. I was every fad from every time period, chewed up and puked out. My love of fashion and history combined to overtake my common sense. Sudden weight gain after college did nothing to break me of years of bad dressing habits. I could no longer pull off the 20s Flapper drop-waisted dresses, 90s Raver tiny tops and big pants, or the 60s minis that my old curveless body fit so well. So instead I just hid under piles of boy clothes. Styles and trends don't matter when you're doing fieldwork anyway. I had always sewn for myself (probably another reason for my chaotic satorial choices) but I suddenly stopped because I was no longer my own perfectly sized model.
Since joining the ranks of corporate American, I've come to remember my inital, tailored desires. Part of me wonders if it's because I now have the curves required to fill out the skirt suits of the 30s and 40s. I love the look of what Katherine Gerdes termed the "Target Girls" and totally hope to attain that level of chicness myself. The catch is that if I begin wearing slacks and jackets, the assumption is that I am giving up my "creativity", either due to corporate zombie-ism or because I'm a mom and moms always stop dressing cool. Or else they shop in the Junior's department with their daughter and that's just sad.
But I don't think that being a mom has anything to do with my love of being on trend. I don't think that following the adage of "dressing for the job that you want" proves you can't think for yourself. And I don't think that being stylish means giving up your individuality. I think dressing my age is empowering. As much as Stacy and Clinton have hammered into the heads of legions of women that you need to dress for your size, regardless of what that size is, I find their secondary message of mature style much more gratifying. I was browsing through a thrift shop a few weeks ago and realized that I'm just not interested in those over-the-top vintage items anymore. Give me classic clean lines anyday. Betsey Johnson is fun in theory but I'd rather wear Chanel.
The problem with voicing this opinion is that you come off as bitter. Bitter that you're old and used up. That you're tied down domestically and can't run amok. Bitter that you can't fit into slutty hootchie clothes. And I think that's extremely unfair. I remember an episode of Sex in the City where some woman at a bar was saying that she doesn't need to go out and canoodle with any random guys that cross her path and that she's happy to be settled down into a predictable pattern. The words were nice but her bitchface and her harsh voice implied that it was all a lie.
I had a lovely conversation with a friend several months ago, reminiscing about all the fun times, fun shows, fun parties. We agreed that while it was nice to remember, it's so much better to be in the now.
So the trick is to not get distracted by naysayers and doubters and try to put all this sartorial philosophy into action. Shopping is hard. Off the rack never really fits well and while I hate doing my own tailoring, I'm also too lazy to bring pieces to a proper tailor shop. And I'm cheap. And I've got the cliche mom mindset that I should spend money on everything and everyone but myself. So the first step is to purge my wardrobe of those plaid pants. The legs are too short, the waist is too wide, they're totally 90s (check out early season Rachel on Friends, no butt pockets look good on no one), and completely unflattering.
Monday, May 21, 2007
The Most Important Meal of the Day
Kirk doesn’t eat breakfast. He’s just not hungry when he gets up. This is totally foreign to me as I need to eat something within 30 minutes of getting out of bed. On weekdays I have to make myself get dressed and mostly ready for work before having a bowl of cereal. And I still need second breakfast a couple hours later! Mr. b, in contrast, is sickened by the very idea of eating sooner than several hours after getting up. I guess I know where Kirk gets it from. He’ll have a glass of milk but that’s it. I’m not going to even try to force it anymore. Yesterday I made "candy" muffins (apple-oatmeal with mini-chocolate chips) and Kirk wolfed down one in no time. I presented a muffin to him this morning and he had maybe four or five teensy weensy little bites off the top before he was done. So I’m not going to fight this battle; it’s not worth it.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Martian and Floridian True Love
The first John Carter of Mars book that I read was actually the 11th one in the series. Mr. b had bought me a used copy and I greatly enjoyed it. I could tell that despite the self-contained nature of the story, I was definitely missing background info. So I started looking for the rest of the series whenever I was in a used bookstore myself. Gods of Mars is the second book in the series. It totally ended on a major cliffhanger! I don't remember the first one, Princess of Mars, doing that. Carter saved his love, Dejah Thoris, by sacrificing himself. End. Did it come out before Tarzan? Maybe Edgar Rice Burroughs wasn't famous enough yet to leave a new series hanging like that? Regardless, it was perfectly in keeping with the feel of the book. Each chapter really was a Saturday afternoon serial installment. I can totally understand why this type of storytelling had such a following. Even the obvious things that are telegraphed to the reader only serve to ramp up the tension while you're waiting for John Carter to figure it out already! And there were plenty of taboos mentioned (overtly: cannibalism, covertly: sex, rape) though never, ever shown. But the action! It was plentiful and bloody. Hand-to-hand combat! Sword fighting! Aerial battles! Prison breaks! Slave revolts! Awesome. Very exciting and completely compelling. And it makes me want to find out where Harry Knowles' pet production of Princess has gotten. I hope that movie gets it right.
In contrast to that pulp fun was last month's book club book, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. It was slower and much more deliberate but no less amazing. I love well written dialect and she nailed it. The speech patterns really brought the characters and the time and the place and the economic condition alive for me. I had been slightly concerned by one of the blurbs on the back that declared the book the first honest tale of "Black Love." Huh? Isn't love color blind? Hasn't that been a major point in literature since at least Shakespeare? But after reading it I have to wonder if the reviewer simply meant that here, finally, was an honest portrayal of true love between two black protagonists. Whatever the intention, it didn't affect my enjoyment of the moving tale of Janie's life and love and loss. I was in tears by the end. Eve though I think she's too young for the part, I'm really curious to see the recent Halle Berry made-for-TV adaptation of this book. It truly was marvelous and I'm glad that it's getting the post-humous recognition that Hurston didn't receive in her own time.
In contrast to that pulp fun was last month's book club book, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. It was slower and much more deliberate but no less amazing. I love well written dialect and she nailed it. The speech patterns really brought the characters and the time and the place and the economic condition alive for me. I had been slightly concerned by one of the blurbs on the back that declared the book the first honest tale of "Black Love." Huh? Isn't love color blind? Hasn't that been a major point in literature since at least Shakespeare? But after reading it I have to wonder if the reviewer simply meant that here, finally, was an honest portrayal of true love between two black protagonists. Whatever the intention, it didn't affect my enjoyment of the moving tale of Janie's life and love and loss. I was in tears by the end. Eve though I think she's too young for the part, I'm really curious to see the recent Halle Berry made-for-TV adaptation of this book. It truly was marvelous and I'm glad that it's getting the post-humous recognition that Hurston didn't receive in her own time.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The Cow Says, "Mooo!"
On Sunday we went to the historic Kelly Farm. Moms with their kids got in free and they had baby animals out for interaction. Kirk had been looking forward to it for days. He would excitedly ask, "An'mals?" I explained exactly how many nigh-nighs, mornings, and naps he had left before baby animal farm. When he got up from his nap on Sunday he was spazzed out with anticipation. He ran about the house grabbing our shoes for us and getting annoyed when we weren't moving fast enough for him!
We picked up my mom at my brother's house on our way there and had a lovely time petting horses, cows, chicks, oxen, and pigs. But there was a pall cast upon the proceedings because Kirk's cousins weren't there! He kept asking after A1 and A2 and we kept explaining that they weren't going to come to the baby animal farm. I find it interesting just how attached he is to his cousins. Is it just because of spending nearly his first year with my sister every day? We do all see each other frequently but I don't know if it's that simple. Then again, he talks about Nana and Papa quite regularly, even if we haven't seen them in a few weeks.
Regardless, it's clear that Kirk's memory forming abilities are quickly solidifying. Even today we could ask him, "Where did we go?" "An'mals." "What did you see there?" "Pigs. Horses." "Who came with us?" "Nana." That's real, live sentience. Both Mr. b and I have extensive and extremely early childhood memories. Will this be one for Kirk? Even if it's not this event specifically, we're getting close to his brain making lifelong memory connections. I think it's also evident in his story telling. Sure, he may not know very many verbs, and even fewer adjectives, but he still tells you about his day. He totally recaps his events using noun repetition, but it's very deliberate. Language is cool.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Thank You
I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to every one of my kindhearted friends that donated to the MS Walk. I appreciate your generosity more than words can express. My mom was also touched that you were willing to give for someone that many of you have never even met in person! The walk was a lot of fun and I look forward to doing it again next year.
Yay me!
I had my official 6-week measurements today. I’ve lost 3 pounds, 1 ½ inches, and 3.4% body fat. And I’m only halfway through the program! I’ll have the rest of this baby weight licked by the time I’m lounging on a beach in the Riviera. And it’s about time, too. Sheesh. I had always heard that the average time it takes a woman to loose the pregnancy weight is 18 months. I had thought that was ridiculous. And now here I am, well above that average, and still trying. Though now I’m actually working at it.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Morbid Thoughts
Mr. b recently booked our tickets to France for our 10th Anniversary in September. And then I said that we needed a will. I wasn't trying to bring doom upon our trip, because honestly I can't wait and it's going to be loads of fun. But it just strikes me as the responsible thing to do now that we're parents. I remember that when my parents and I went to the USSR in '87 but my sister and brother stayed behind, they set up a will. And with one of the Merc Rage members about to graduate law school, it was pretty easy to find out what we need. Apparently there's a simple form that we can fill out and get notarized; we figure Kirk will go to my sister and my dad will take care of the "estate".
But I've been extra aware of my own mortality these last few weeks anyways. My dad found out that a classmate of mine from my dance studio passed away. And it's not like we were particularly close, but we were in the same competitive troupe for years and traveled together and had sleep overs and practiced together and so I certainly knew her well. And 31 is just too young.
What I found interesting is that my dad thought that the fact that she didn't have kids was a blessing. There were no youngsters left without a mother. Whereas I thought it was tragic that she died before she had a chance to experience the utter joy that is being a mother.
For me it's less about the "immortality" of having a part of you continue after you're gone. Though I definitely grieve for her parents loss and for the grandchildren they'll never have. And as much as I'm fascinated by my own and Mr. b's genealogies, continuing the line is not of the utmost priority. (Thought I confess to loving the "heir and a spare" expectations for the royal family.) Yet if something were to, goddess forbid, happen to Mr. b, I would be comforted by the idea that I have a part of him still with me in Kirk.
But I've been extra aware of my own mortality these last few weeks anyways. My dad found out that a classmate of mine from my dance studio passed away. And it's not like we were particularly close, but we were in the same competitive troupe for years and traveled together and had sleep overs and practiced together and so I certainly knew her well. And 31 is just too young.
What I found interesting is that my dad thought that the fact that she didn't have kids was a blessing. There were no youngsters left without a mother. Whereas I thought it was tragic that she died before she had a chance to experience the utter joy that is being a mother.
For me it's less about the "immortality" of having a part of you continue after you're gone. Though I definitely grieve for her parents loss and for the grandchildren they'll never have. And as much as I'm fascinated by my own and Mr. b's genealogies, continuing the line is not of the utmost priority. (Thought I confess to loving the "heir and a spare" expectations for the royal family.) Yet if something were to, goddess forbid, happen to Mr. b, I would be comforted by the idea that I have a part of him still with me in Kirk.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Multiple Sclerosis
My mom has MS. She's lived with the diagnosis for nearly 2 decades. She doesn't let it keep her from doing anything, she just does it slower than she used to! Next weekend I'm joining her in the MS Walk at Boom Island. If you'd like to support me, please donate here. Thank you!
Suite Devils
I was chatting with K this morning while dropping Kirk off and we circled around to books. As I was recommending Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky I started feeling guilty about not keeping up with my book reviews. Suite Française was one of the most incredible books I have ever read. It was written in the midst of World War II and was just so alive and fresh and immediate and modern. Sometimes it seemed so contemporary it was hard to remember it was written during the actual events taking place in the book. The first part is during the evacuation of Paris on the eve of the German invasion. The second part is set in a small village in Occupied France, but near the border of Vichy France. The characters change from part to part and yet there are subtle interweavings that are so current in serialized story-telling. The characters don’t know about their connections, only the reader, much like viewers of Lost. The feelings evoked by these personalized historic events are of course filtered by the knowledge that the author died at Auschwitz. She had originally envisioned this masterpiece in 4 or 5 parts and only got as far as outlining the third part. That’s included as an appendix but it’s not the same. Just one more tragedy during a time of countless tragedies.
Besides book club books I’ve been delving into the rather Gothic. I read the Whedon future Slayer comic Fray and a fantastic alt-history comic The Five Fists of Science. I also decided to catch up on all the Hellboy one-shots and have been reading the Darkhorse compilations where there is a Hellboy story. I also read the Hellboy / Goon crossover and now think I need to read more of the Goon! All that horror put me in the mood to read more vampire stuff so I finally got around to the next Anne Rice book.
I have mixed feelings about that Vampire series. Part of the problem is that I honestly just don’t really like Lestat. That's why it has taken me so long to get around to the next one. My favorite has been Queen of the Damned and I think that’s largely because Lestat is relegated to minor character status. So I wasn’t sure what to think about Memnoch the Devil. Lestat’s vampiric nature wasn’t completely central to the plot, and yet it totally was. And he was still the stubborn, childish, annoying Lestat that he always is. Yet the concept was very interesting. The Devil’s case against God was quite enjoyable, though I came away thinking that they’re both wrong. The biggest problem is that there was far more talking than doing and that’s always tricky to pull off. I found myself frequently wondering if Christians would be offended by the narrative or see it as correct Biblical interpretation. It could definitely go either way.
Besides book club books I’ve been delving into the rather Gothic. I read the Whedon future Slayer comic Fray and a fantastic alt-history comic The Five Fists of Science. I also decided to catch up on all the Hellboy one-shots and have been reading the Darkhorse compilations where there is a Hellboy story. I also read the Hellboy / Goon crossover and now think I need to read more of the Goon! All that horror put me in the mood to read more vampire stuff so I finally got around to the next Anne Rice book.
I have mixed feelings about that Vampire series. Part of the problem is that I honestly just don’t really like Lestat. That's why it has taken me so long to get around to the next one. My favorite has been Queen of the Damned and I think that’s largely because Lestat is relegated to minor character status. So I wasn’t sure what to think about Memnoch the Devil. Lestat’s vampiric nature wasn’t completely central to the plot, and yet it totally was. And he was still the stubborn, childish, annoying Lestat that he always is. Yet the concept was very interesting. The Devil’s case against God was quite enjoyable, though I came away thinking that they’re both wrong. The biggest problem is that there was far more talking than doing and that’s always tricky to pull off. I found myself frequently wondering if Christians would be offended by the narrative or see it as correct Biblical interpretation. It could definitely go either way.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Dirty Boy
I really love Kirk's toddler accent. His mispronunciations are so much fun. My current favorite is his own name: Dirt. HA!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Wit's End
This latest schizophrenic phase of Kirk’s really sucks ass.
Kirk spends all his time of late pushing boundaries. He goes into my bedside table and steals my necklaces even after I take them away and point out he has his own “noodles”. He says “No” without even thinking about what his actual response might be. “Honey, do you want juice or milk?” “No!” He demands one thing but tries get around the cause and effect – he’s done with his bath but doesn’t want to be dried off.
He’s also starting to play favorites. Or maybe it just seems that way since Mommy’s left out in the cold? I remember when he was a little baby and seemed to occasionally favor me over his father and Mr. b would feel sad. People always told us that babies prefer their mom in their first year and their dad in their second. So far that definitely seems to be true.
Kirk is ignoring any commands that I give. Mr. b claims that he’s ignored, too, but at least Kirk looks when he hears his daddy call his name. Yesterday morning I was across the living room, getting Kirk’s coat before we left for daycare. I saw Kirk on the floor with the container I had filled with soup for my lunch. And he was tugging on the lid. And I yelled “No! No! No! No!” as I raced across the floor. But he didn’t listen. And he deliberately spilled the soup all over the floor. I grounded him from pans for after daycare but it’s not like he noticed since we went to the park after eating dinner.
Now, the loss of the soup definitely upset me. I mean, it was really kickass soup! But there was still some left in the refrigerator. Yet what if he was doing something that could have hurt him? What if he had figured out how to open the childproof lock on the drawer with the chef’s knife? Or if he was reaching for the flames on the stove? His addiction to pans has already led him to pull a stool up to the counter to try to grab dirty pans sitting next to the sink, waiting to be washed. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t try to grab one actually filled with hot oil or boiling water. I’ve only used the back burners for well over a year but how long will that be good enough?
As much as it may seem like it when he’s so defiant to me specifically, I have to remind myself that it’s not like he actually hates me or anything. But his sweetness seems to remain confined to when he’s tired. He cuddled with me last night before I put him to bed. He snuggled a little bit when he got up this morning. The inconsistency is just so frustrating!
All last week he was upset about being left at daycare. Previously he would start shouting K’s name as soon as we’d turn the corner onto her street. He’d wave bye-bye to us after getting his coat and shoes off and we’d have to steal hugs and kisses before leaving. But last week he would freak out and scream and yell and cry and just generally get angry and upset about us going to work. Today? He was back to not caring. Maybe the new baby starting today helped. He’s been really into babies lately.
Kirk spends all his time of late pushing boundaries. He goes into my bedside table and steals my necklaces even after I take them away and point out he has his own “noodles”. He says “No” without even thinking about what his actual response might be. “Honey, do you want juice or milk?” “No!” He demands one thing but tries get around the cause and effect – he’s done with his bath but doesn’t want to be dried off.
He’s also starting to play favorites. Or maybe it just seems that way since Mommy’s left out in the cold? I remember when he was a little baby and seemed to occasionally favor me over his father and Mr. b would feel sad. People always told us that babies prefer their mom in their first year and their dad in their second. So far that definitely seems to be true.
Kirk is ignoring any commands that I give. Mr. b claims that he’s ignored, too, but at least Kirk looks when he hears his daddy call his name. Yesterday morning I was across the living room, getting Kirk’s coat before we left for daycare. I saw Kirk on the floor with the container I had filled with soup for my lunch. And he was tugging on the lid. And I yelled “No! No! No! No!” as I raced across the floor. But he didn’t listen. And he deliberately spilled the soup all over the floor. I grounded him from pans for after daycare but it’s not like he noticed since we went to the park after eating dinner.
Now, the loss of the soup definitely upset me. I mean, it was really kickass soup! But there was still some left in the refrigerator. Yet what if he was doing something that could have hurt him? What if he had figured out how to open the childproof lock on the drawer with the chef’s knife? Or if he was reaching for the flames on the stove? His addiction to pans has already led him to pull a stool up to the counter to try to grab dirty pans sitting next to the sink, waiting to be washed. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t try to grab one actually filled with hot oil or boiling water. I’ve only used the back burners for well over a year but how long will that be good enough?
As much as it may seem like it when he’s so defiant to me specifically, I have to remind myself that it’s not like he actually hates me or anything. But his sweetness seems to remain confined to when he’s tired. He cuddled with me last night before I put him to bed. He snuggled a little bit when he got up this morning. The inconsistency is just so frustrating!
All last week he was upset about being left at daycare. Previously he would start shouting K’s name as soon as we’d turn the corner onto her street. He’d wave bye-bye to us after getting his coat and shoes off and we’d have to steal hugs and kisses before leaving. But last week he would freak out and scream and yell and cry and just generally get angry and upset about us going to work. Today? He was back to not caring. Maybe the new baby starting today helped. He’s been really into babies lately.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Kitty
I woke up about 3 this morning. I couldn’t get back to sleep and just had this feeling that I needed to check on Kirk. The cat was in the crib with him! So cute. But she jumped out like she was doing something naughty as soon as I peeked in. When I told this to Mr. b this morning he peeked in and she was back!
I’ve been waiting for that to happen for a while now. I’ve busted her in the crib in the middle of the day when no one’s even in his room at all. And since she’s only lived with us for less than a year, she certainly didn’t have the no-bassinet-EVER rule drilled into her head like the Squirrel. Besides, she and Kirk are totally friends. They pick on each other and love each other. When Kirk’s sitting on one of our laps before bed, she’ll pile on, too. Sometimes much to his dismay. So I always figured she’d end up sleeping with him when he graduates to a big boy bed. She’s just starting early!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Potty Time
Kirk went poopy in the potty.
I was in class all day today and Mr. b and Kirk are in South Dakota, visiting my FIL who’s up for a friend’s funeral. So I called to wish them bon voyage this morning. And that’s when Mr. b told me the news. Kirk went poopy in the potty!!
Kirk's been very aware of his pees and poops for quite some time. We taught him sign language for poop and fart so he could let us know when he needed a diaper change and when he was just stinky. He would often announce that he was pooping or if his diaper was hugely soaked with pee. So we bought him a potty chair maybe about 2 months ago.
He’s been pretty good about sitting on his potty chair after pooping, before his diaper gets changed. So he’s at least been associating it correctly, even if he doesn’t quite have the order down. He always sits on his chair if one of us is using the bathroom, too.
A week ago we bought Elmo’s Potty Time. Kirk’s only watched it a handful of times (not like that Ernie addiction!) but we figured it would just be good for subliminal teaching. We noticed him miming washing his hands during that particular segment so that was nice proof that he was paying at least a little bit of attention. And both Mr. b and I have been asking Kirk if his body is telling him that he needs to go potty as soon as we’d see him start to make poo-face.
Another element that I think makes a difference is that all the kids at daycare are in various stages of potty training. So it must come up frequently, and be something very prominent in his life there. I always hear anecdotally that younger siblings tend to potty train themselves because they see their big sister or brother doing it and just follow suit.
I also always hear that boys are so much harder to potty train and that they take a vastly longer time. So even if this is a fluke, I feel really positive. And I need to think about investigating Pull-Ups. Just when we’ve finally figured out the pros and cons of regular Huggies vs. Pampers vs. Luvs…
I was in class all day today and Mr. b and Kirk are in South Dakota, visiting my FIL who’s up for a friend’s funeral. So I called to wish them bon voyage this morning. And that’s when Mr. b told me the news. Kirk went poopy in the potty!!
Kirk's been very aware of his pees and poops for quite some time. We taught him sign language for poop and fart so he could let us know when he needed a diaper change and when he was just stinky. He would often announce that he was pooping or if his diaper was hugely soaked with pee. So we bought him a potty chair maybe about 2 months ago.
He’s been pretty good about sitting on his potty chair after pooping, before his diaper gets changed. So he’s at least been associating it correctly, even if he doesn’t quite have the order down. He always sits on his chair if one of us is using the bathroom, too.
A week ago we bought Elmo’s Potty Time. Kirk’s only watched it a handful of times (not like that Ernie addiction!) but we figured it would just be good for subliminal teaching. We noticed him miming washing his hands during that particular segment so that was nice proof that he was paying at least a little bit of attention. And both Mr. b and I have been asking Kirk if his body is telling him that he needs to go potty as soon as we’d see him start to make poo-face.
Another element that I think makes a difference is that all the kids at daycare are in various stages of potty training. So it must come up frequently, and be something very prominent in his life there. I always hear anecdotally that younger siblings tend to potty train themselves because they see their big sister or brother doing it and just follow suit.
I also always hear that boys are so much harder to potty train and that they take a vastly longer time. So even if this is a fluke, I feel really positive. And I need to think about investigating Pull-Ups. Just when we’ve finally figured out the pros and cons of regular Huggies vs. Pampers vs. Luvs…
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Intuition or Paranoia?
What do you do when you have nothing to base it on but you have a nagging gut feeling that your son is sick? He’s been warm the last two nights but not feverish during the day and sleeping through the night. He’s been sticking his fingers in his ears. Both of those things could be due to the new teeth pushing through. The ear thing was also during the long car rides to and from visiting Great-Grandma last weekend so it certainly could have been simple pressure changes. The kids at daycare have been rotating around having ear infections but ear infections themselves aren’t contagious. It’s just a virus that spread into the ears. Kirk certainly hasn’t been prone to that. But any kind of virus is contagious. My internal logic synopses are going ‘round and ‘round and ‘round like I’m a robot that’s been Captain James T’d. Mr. b says he’s going to investigate; his intuition about the boy’s health has been accurate to date. I’m happy to pass the buck if it means my head won’t blow up.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Elmopalooza
I had to take away Kirk’s access to his movies. I had filled the two drawers of the upstairs entertainment consol with all our DVDs and VHS cartoons and kids shows. And every day he would unload them, looking for the Elmo tape. And he would carry around the cases and rip off pieces of them and just generally destroy all the video tape slip covers. Every single day. It was a constant mess and I was done with it. So now they’re hidden in the ottoman and his books are in the drawers.
I thought that he would freak out not having immediate access to the Elmo tape. But I guess he’s still young enough that outright deception and distraction still works. Now he just pulls out his Elmo Get Up and Go Songs book and grooves out to that.
I have no idea how we ended up with so many damn Elmo items. It’s not like we tried. The video, stuffed doll, mini-see-n-say, and bath-toy yellow submarine are from Grandma. The song book and sound effect toy are from our neighbors. The sheets are from Auntie. The Big Bird adventure book is from Nana. Really, I think the sippy cups are the only things we’ve actually bought—and that’s only because he honestly needed new ones!
But it’s really easy to end up buying merch without even noticing. We don’t own the movie Cars. Sure, we’ve seen it. K has it at daycare and my mom has it. So Kirk knows it and likes it. But he didn’t beg and plead for Cars pajamas, they just happened to be the only ones on sale and in his size. He didn’t demand Cars boots, they just happened to be the only boots in his size.
Star Wars merch, however, we purposely seek out. Too bad there aren’t any more movies.
I thought that he would freak out not having immediate access to the Elmo tape. But I guess he’s still young enough that outright deception and distraction still works. Now he just pulls out his Elmo Get Up and Go Songs book and grooves out to that.
I have no idea how we ended up with so many damn Elmo items. It’s not like we tried. The video, stuffed doll, mini-see-n-say, and bath-toy yellow submarine are from Grandma. The song book and sound effect toy are from our neighbors. The sheets are from Auntie. The Big Bird adventure book is from Nana. Really, I think the sippy cups are the only things we’ve actually bought—and that’s only because he honestly needed new ones!
But it’s really easy to end up buying merch without even noticing. We don’t own the movie Cars. Sure, we’ve seen it. K has it at daycare and my mom has it. So Kirk knows it and likes it. But he didn’t beg and plead for Cars pajamas, they just happened to be the only ones on sale and in his size. He didn’t demand Cars boots, they just happened to be the only boots in his size.
Star Wars merch, however, we purposely seek out. Too bad there aren’t any more movies.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Play Time
Kirk tattles on his daddy. I don't really know what it is that Mr. b does (it can vary from not letting Kirk play in the toilet to strapping Kirk into his carseat) but it's stuff that he's not into.
Kirk: Mama?
Me: Yes honey?
Kirk: Dada!
It cracks us up so hard. It's such an accusation the way he says it. Sometimes he'll even point.
He's also started singing and telling jokes. Now, we have no idea why the jokes are funny. But you can say "bobo" to him and he'll die of laughter. He goes into full on laugh attack mode after repeating it and giggling a few times! His songs generally revolve around one word that he knows (like [ba]nana) and nonsense syllables. But Mr. b overheard him singing lyrics consisting of "Mama Dada hat hot" and was so amused that he had to start repeating it right away.
I'm glad that Kirk's already showing such love of music. We go downstairs and listen to one side of a record almost every night. His dance moves continue to be super fly. Although last night he spent the entire time cooking. I have some old Tupperware Toys down there and he was playing with the mini-pitcher and measuring cup and stirring and chattering away, saying "hot, hot, hot." He was totally hosting a cooking show!
He's also developed an Elmo addiction. This is relatively recent, the last week or two only. He's got the Kid's Favorite Songs video in which Elmo does his top ten countdown and various Sesame Street characters sing songs like Row, Row, Row Your Boat and John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. Each song has a different genre arrangement. It's actually pretty good. And he frickin' loves it. As soon as he comes home he heads straight to the drawer with his movies and pulls it out. "Em-oh!" He cuddles his Elmo doll and dances and points and gets so excited.
It's actually gotten to the point where we're starting to wonder if he's watching too much TV. And just a couple of weeks ago we were complaining about his non-stop book demands!
Kirk: Mama?
Me: Yes honey?
Kirk: Dada!
It cracks us up so hard. It's such an accusation the way he says it. Sometimes he'll even point.
He's also started singing and telling jokes. Now, we have no idea why the jokes are funny. But you can say "bobo" to him and he'll die of laughter. He goes into full on laugh attack mode after repeating it and giggling a few times! His songs generally revolve around one word that he knows (like [ba]nana) and nonsense syllables. But Mr. b overheard him singing lyrics consisting of "Mama Dada hat hot" and was so amused that he had to start repeating it right away.
I'm glad that Kirk's already showing such love of music. We go downstairs and listen to one side of a record almost every night. His dance moves continue to be super fly. Although last night he spent the entire time cooking. I have some old Tupperware Toys down there and he was playing with the mini-pitcher and measuring cup and stirring and chattering away, saying "hot, hot, hot." He was totally hosting a cooking show!
He's also developed an Elmo addiction. This is relatively recent, the last week or two only. He's got the Kid's Favorite Songs video in which Elmo does his top ten countdown and various Sesame Street characters sing songs like Row, Row, Row Your Boat and John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. Each song has a different genre arrangement. It's actually pretty good. And he frickin' loves it. As soon as he comes home he heads straight to the drawer with his movies and pulls it out. "Em-oh!" He cuddles his Elmo doll and dances and points and gets so excited.
It's actually gotten to the point where we're starting to wonder if he's watching too much TV. And just a couple of weeks ago we were complaining about his non-stop book demands!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Golem, Giants, and Gold
In 2004 I started reading the Hellboy comics. I had heard of them from my former co-worker, Sharyn, but it wasn't until I started seeing ads for the movie that I decided to pick them up. The movie was brilliant and I blasted through the entire series.
But I never caught up with the sister title, B.P.R.D. I'm not sure why. I read the first volume that same year but as Mr. b bought the following ones, I never got around to them. That's all changed now. I read the remaining 5 volumes and it was frickin' fabulous. Man I love that world. Even with Hellboy still retired, the cast is just fantastic. I love the backstory that's been given to Abe. Liz continues to amuse. The new guy, Captain Daimio, is a great fit. Who doesn't love Roger? Or Johann? Mr. b spoiled me for a major character's death but it was still very enjoyable to read the lastest adventures of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.
The ads for the movie prompted me to read Bridge to Terabithia. I thought maybe I had read it in elementary school. Mr. b remembered it but I did not. It was so good. But tears are unavoidable. Both of us were bawling by the end. I am not sure how the movie can be reviewed as "heartwarming" without changing a major element of the story. Regardless, I think it's essential young adult literature and I definitely see why it won so many awards. It's a little dated (calling parents by their first names, 70s fashions and songs) but I thought it was fun and almost like a period piece in a way.
I did not enjoy Silas Marner, however. Now and again book club will assign a dud. My aunt thought maybe it was a potboiler. Not having read any other George Elliot, I can't reference her style, but I can see how it's possible. I didn't like the eponymous character. He was so passive and when he was about to be robbed yet again, I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be forced into feeling any sympathy for the guy. So I checked the plot synopsis on Wikipedia to see if it had a happy ending. It did so I finished the book. It took way too long to get to the adopted daughter's arrival after his gold was stolen. And then the golden-curls-as-replacement-for-lost-gold element was beaten over the reader's head pretty much constantly. Actually, I thought a lot of it seemed like it had been written by Mojo Jojo. I didn't hate it. I think you could probably do a decent film adaptation. But I don't know why it's considered a "classic".
But I never caught up with the sister title, B.P.R.D. I'm not sure why. I read the first volume that same year but as Mr. b bought the following ones, I never got around to them. That's all changed now. I read the remaining 5 volumes and it was frickin' fabulous. Man I love that world. Even with Hellboy still retired, the cast is just fantastic. I love the backstory that's been given to Abe. Liz continues to amuse. The new guy, Captain Daimio, is a great fit. Who doesn't love Roger? Or Johann? Mr. b spoiled me for a major character's death but it was still very enjoyable to read the lastest adventures of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.
The ads for the movie prompted me to read Bridge to Terabithia. I thought maybe I had read it in elementary school. Mr. b remembered it but I did not. It was so good. But tears are unavoidable. Both of us were bawling by the end. I am not sure how the movie can be reviewed as "heartwarming" without changing a major element of the story. Regardless, I think it's essential young adult literature and I definitely see why it won so many awards. It's a little dated (calling parents by their first names, 70s fashions and songs) but I thought it was fun and almost like a period piece in a way.
I did not enjoy Silas Marner, however. Now and again book club will assign a dud. My aunt thought maybe it was a potboiler. Not having read any other George Elliot, I can't reference her style, but I can see how it's possible. I didn't like the eponymous character. He was so passive and when he was about to be robbed yet again, I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be forced into feeling any sympathy for the guy. So I checked the plot synopsis on Wikipedia to see if it had a happy ending. It did so I finished the book. It took way too long to get to the adopted daughter's arrival after his gold was stolen. And then the golden-curls-as-replacement-for-lost-gold element was beaten over the reader's head pretty much constantly. Actually, I thought a lot of it seemed like it had been written by Mojo Jojo. I didn't hate it. I think you could probably do a decent film adaptation. But I don't know why it's considered a "classic".
Monday, February 19, 2007
On Fertility
I can’t believe I forgot to pick up my prescription. I thought of it after the pharmacy had already closed. I got it this morning before going to work so I ended up taking my no-siblings-for-Kirk pill less than 12 hours late. But still. It only takes one fuck-up. Because if there is anything I know about my genetics, it’s that the women of my maternal line are extraordinarily fertile.
Fertility is a weird thing. I’ve spent more time thinking about it over the past year or so than I ever have before. Certainly more than when I was "not trying but no longer trying to prevent". I’m moving out of the phase of life when everyone’s getting hitched to the phase where everyone’s starting to make procreation decisions. And for several of my friends and relatives, the ability to make that decision is being denied to them due to flukes of biology.
What does it feel like—-emotionally, physically, psychologically—-to endure getting your period month after month after month when it’s no longer a relief? I got knocked up less than 3 months after going off the pill. I truly can’t relate, though I can certainly empathize. How long do you try before you start testing? We’re brought up as children of the women’s movement of the 70s to believe that we can Do It All, and that means we can take as long as we want, working on our careers and other personal interests, before we get down to the business of self-replication. But biologically, we can’t. There’s a cut-off date. And all the celebrities that have secret help aren’t doing anything to mitigate that myth.
I finally gave in to Mr. b’s longstanding desire for kids because I wanted to start trying before I had turned 30. If there was something amiss, I wanted to have plenty of time to investigate before the magic expiration date of 35. Most of my friends that are trying are already over 30. Do you take an entire year to let nature take its course? Or do you get checked out after only 6 months, so that there’s more time for next steps, should they be necessary?
And what about those next steps? Why is adoption always a last resort? My own grandmother was adopted, though she didn’t learn about the mother-auntie switcheroo until she had adult children of her own. Times have changed. I grew up with adopted cousins that knew they were adopted and it made no difference in their standing as members of the family. Before I met Mr. b I always considered that I would adopt at some point when I was older and ready to raise a child. Even after meeting him, I held off on the idea of having biological children and talked about adoption. I still keep the option open.
Yet for most, it seems like the next step is instead insemination. Not too invasive. You have the option of donor sperm if necessary. I guess I can see going that route. Particularly if carrying and delivering your child is of great importance. What about in vitro? There we’re getting into science fiction territory. I’m not sure I could go through that laborious process of tricking my body via multiple injections into not rejecting the foreign matter that’s been implanted in my womb. Surrogacy? How is that different from adoption, besides the genes?
It all comes down to choices of course. Like so many aspects of reproduction. Right now I choose not to get pregnant before I go to France in September for my 10th anniversary. While on the Riviera? All bets are off. And what of my friends and cousins that are struggling? Can they find it in their hearts to be happy for me if I do get knocked up again? Will there be inevitable secret jealousy? I don’t want to have to watch what I say and tiptoe around the issue. I can provide support and empathy despite not understanding that particular struggle.
And I can also provide a different sort of support and empathy to my sister, who is pregnant for the third time. Now I’ve been through it. Now I can truly understand what it’s like. And I’m excited to witness the development of my new niece or nephew with that deeper knowledge. And I hope I get to meet the little cutie before I jet off to Europe!
Fertility is a weird thing. I’ve spent more time thinking about it over the past year or so than I ever have before. Certainly more than when I was "not trying but no longer trying to prevent". I’m moving out of the phase of life when everyone’s getting hitched to the phase where everyone’s starting to make procreation decisions. And for several of my friends and relatives, the ability to make that decision is being denied to them due to flukes of biology.
What does it feel like—-emotionally, physically, psychologically—-to endure getting your period month after month after month when it’s no longer a relief? I got knocked up less than 3 months after going off the pill. I truly can’t relate, though I can certainly empathize. How long do you try before you start testing? We’re brought up as children of the women’s movement of the 70s to believe that we can Do It All, and that means we can take as long as we want, working on our careers and other personal interests, before we get down to the business of self-replication. But biologically, we can’t. There’s a cut-off date. And all the celebrities that have secret help aren’t doing anything to mitigate that myth.
I finally gave in to Mr. b’s longstanding desire for kids because I wanted to start trying before I had turned 30. If there was something amiss, I wanted to have plenty of time to investigate before the magic expiration date of 35. Most of my friends that are trying are already over 30. Do you take an entire year to let nature take its course? Or do you get checked out after only 6 months, so that there’s more time for next steps, should they be necessary?
And what about those next steps? Why is adoption always a last resort? My own grandmother was adopted, though she didn’t learn about the mother-auntie switcheroo until she had adult children of her own. Times have changed. I grew up with adopted cousins that knew they were adopted and it made no difference in their standing as members of the family. Before I met Mr. b I always considered that I would adopt at some point when I was older and ready to raise a child. Even after meeting him, I held off on the idea of having biological children and talked about adoption. I still keep the option open.
Yet for most, it seems like the next step is instead insemination. Not too invasive. You have the option of donor sperm if necessary. I guess I can see going that route. Particularly if carrying and delivering your child is of great importance. What about in vitro? There we’re getting into science fiction territory. I’m not sure I could go through that laborious process of tricking my body via multiple injections into not rejecting the foreign matter that’s been implanted in my womb. Surrogacy? How is that different from adoption, besides the genes?
It all comes down to choices of course. Like so many aspects of reproduction. Right now I choose not to get pregnant before I go to France in September for my 10th anniversary. While on the Riviera? All bets are off. And what of my friends and cousins that are struggling? Can they find it in their hearts to be happy for me if I do get knocked up again? Will there be inevitable secret jealousy? I don’t want to have to watch what I say and tiptoe around the issue. I can provide support and empathy despite not understanding that particular struggle.
And I can also provide a different sort of support and empathy to my sister, who is pregnant for the third time. Now I’ve been through it. Now I can truly understand what it’s like. And I’m excited to witness the development of my new niece or nephew with that deeper knowledge. And I hope I get to meet the little cutie before I jet off to Europe!
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Evolution
In 9th or 10th grade my friend and I decided to throw a formal dinner party for ourselves. Morrigan and I collaborated on a dress (me) and hat (her) combo for our hostess involving lots of black velvet trim and cranberry beading. It was awesome. I decided to try my hand at a sari for myself. I found a bolt of fantastic gold lamé with a mauve flower print. Though I'd never been to India at that point, I thoroughly examined National Geographics to approximate how to wrap it. I wish I had a picture of the 7 of us in our finery, dancing to the Jackson 5.
Several years later Mr. b and I moved into our first official apartment together. We were on the second floor of a duplex (Johnny and Wife1 would later inhabit the first floor) and our bedroom had glass French doors. Clearly curtains were necessary. I dug out my old sari fabric, whacked it in two, and hemmed the ends for the top and bottom curtain rods. It looked really great against the wood trim and white walls.
Another few years passed and I was taking Hindi my senior year at the U of M. Some of my classmates and I started the Culture Club of India. Then we got it into our heads to do a fashion show. I took the lead on that of course. I supplemented my own formal sari and several batik shalwar kamis, purchased during my trip to India that winter, with loaned clothing from local stores. Then I also designed some updates of traditional outfits with a rave-girl's sensibility. My master piece was a pair of extra-wide pajama pants, a slim kurta with gold frogs, and reversible vest. One side matches the pants (a metallic rusty orange -- and I later modified them into a full length skirt for myself). The other side of the vest? Part of one of the old curtains, formerly my first sari. It was nicely full circle for the fabric to be used as Indian clothing again.
This Christmas I made a cute little pleated wrap skirt and pouch purse set for niece A2. I used the remnant I had bought to cut out a teddy bear for my Kaylee costume. I felt bad that I didn't have time to make something for A1 but told her I would for her upcoming birthday. I had decided I wanted to try my hand at the infamous bubble skirt. Going through my boxes of fabric, I rediscovered the old sari fabric. Perfect! I even had tons of muslin left from Kirk's curtains for the lining. So last week I made a bubble skirt with a matching round-bottom, draw-string purse. They turned out simply gorgeous. Coincedentally, my sister's Indian friend adored the fabric.
I still have an entire curtain left untouched. Eventually it'll get used for something new. It's anybody's guess what that will be. I think this fabric is the most recycled of anything in my vast collection of raw materials.
Several years later Mr. b and I moved into our first official apartment together. We were on the second floor of a duplex (Johnny and Wife1 would later inhabit the first floor) and our bedroom had glass French doors. Clearly curtains were necessary. I dug out my old sari fabric, whacked it in two, and hemmed the ends for the top and bottom curtain rods. It looked really great against the wood trim and white walls.
Another few years passed and I was taking Hindi my senior year at the U of M. Some of my classmates and I started the Culture Club of India. Then we got it into our heads to do a fashion show. I took the lead on that of course. I supplemented my own formal sari and several batik shalwar kamis, purchased during my trip to India that winter, with loaned clothing from local stores. Then I also designed some updates of traditional outfits with a rave-girl's sensibility. My master piece was a pair of extra-wide pajama pants, a slim kurta with gold frogs, and reversible vest. One side matches the pants (a metallic rusty orange -- and I later modified them into a full length skirt for myself). The other side of the vest? Part of one of the old curtains, formerly my first sari. It was nicely full circle for the fabric to be used as Indian clothing again.
This Christmas I made a cute little pleated wrap skirt and pouch purse set for niece A2. I used the remnant I had bought to cut out a teddy bear for my Kaylee costume. I felt bad that I didn't have time to make something for A1 but told her I would for her upcoming birthday. I had decided I wanted to try my hand at the infamous bubble skirt. Going through my boxes of fabric, I rediscovered the old sari fabric. Perfect! I even had tons of muslin left from Kirk's curtains for the lining. So last week I made a bubble skirt with a matching round-bottom, draw-string purse. They turned out simply gorgeous. Coincedentally, my sister's Indian friend adored the fabric.
I still have an entire curtain left untouched. Eventually it'll get used for something new. It's anybody's guess what that will be. I think this fabric is the most recycled of anything in my vast collection of raw materials.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Daycare Dossier
We found out earlier this week that K had to fire a family from daycare. It’s the first time she’s had to deal with that. I can’t say that I’m surprised, though I don’t have anything more than a general feeling to point to as explanation. And as tough a decision as it must’ve been for her to make, I do feel a lot better about Kirk’s behavior, comparatively. Especially since K asked us just the other week if we were trying any new discipline techniques at home. Because he had been so naughty, screaming and deliberately repeating actions that he had been told not to do. He’s actually much better now, just-a-phase and whatnot, but I had been doing nascent Time-Outs with him at that point.
Around the same time Kirk was also loosing footwear on a daily basis. Each afternoon we’d pick him up and he’d be missing a sock, or both socks, or a shoe. K always successfully found them—eventually. We took him home without socks a couple of times.
But it’s not all bad and/or weird at daycare. Kirk loves it there so much that as soon as we arrive in the morning he runs off, often before we can even remove his coat! If we pick him up early he’ll crab about missing time with his friends. I’m glad that he’s so well socialized and that he truly enjoys his time there.
Maybe he just enjoys his time there because he has a crush on one of the other Mommies? I got an email from Angelmamma the other day. Her niece goes to K for daycare, too, and her sister said that when she drops her daughter off, Kirk will run to her and stare at her and smile. And once he even brought over a toy that plays songs and started dancing for her! I teased her when I passed her this morning, saying that she’s Kirk’s girlfriend. Kirk’s always liked the ladies; he flirts shamelessly with waitresses and clerks. Hee!
Around the same time Kirk was also loosing footwear on a daily basis. Each afternoon we’d pick him up and he’d be missing a sock, or both socks, or a shoe. K always successfully found them—eventually. We took him home without socks a couple of times.
But it’s not all bad and/or weird at daycare. Kirk loves it there so much that as soon as we arrive in the morning he runs off, often before we can even remove his coat! If we pick him up early he’ll crab about missing time with his friends. I’m glad that he’s so well socialized and that he truly enjoys his time there.
Maybe he just enjoys his time there because he has a crush on one of the other Mommies? I got an email from Angelmamma the other day. Her niece goes to K for daycare, too, and her sister said that when she drops her daughter off, Kirk will run to her and stare at her and smile. And once he even brought over a toy that plays songs and started dancing for her! I teased her when I passed her this morning, saying that she’s Kirk’s girlfriend. Kirk’s always liked the ladies; he flirts shamelessly with waitresses and clerks. Hee!
Friday, February 02, 2007
Family Bed
Kirk’s been on a kick this week where he’ll only snuggle into Daddy’s lap for his bedtime juice-water. Previously he wouldn’t have anything to do with him and would only sit with me before bed. Which is great because Mr. b was feeling unloved. But coinciding with this trend is an increase in sleeping in Mommy and Daddy’s bed in the middle of the night. I’m not sure the connection.
At least it’s getting easier to sleep with Kirk in the bed. He’s able to lay independently. He doesn’t have to have Mommy’s arm under his head. So then I get a chance to roll over to my other side or lay on my stomach or whatever. I still worry about him getting smothered. Not necessarily because he’s in the middle but rather because Mr. b is a pillow clutcher and I’ve definitely busted him laying a pillow across Kirk’s legs before. But Kirk’s much bigger now and can fight back!
Kirk’s also developing bad morning breath. It’s not like gas-mask worthy or anything. But it’s definitely there. His cousin A1 has The Worst Morning Breath in the History of Time. Mr. b claims I am stinky in the morning but really, nothing can compare to that girl’s mouth. So as long as Kirk doesn’t get much smellier, I’m not worried.
His butt, of course, is another matter. Boys. Sheesh.
At least it’s getting easier to sleep with Kirk in the bed. He’s able to lay independently. He doesn’t have to have Mommy’s arm under his head. So then I get a chance to roll over to my other side or lay on my stomach or whatever. I still worry about him getting smothered. Not necessarily because he’s in the middle but rather because Mr. b is a pillow clutcher and I’ve definitely busted him laying a pillow across Kirk’s legs before. But Kirk’s much bigger now and can fight back!
Kirk’s also developing bad morning breath. It’s not like gas-mask worthy or anything. But it’s definitely there. His cousin A1 has The Worst Morning Breath in the History of Time. Mr. b claims I am stinky in the morning but really, nothing can compare to that girl’s mouth. So as long as Kirk doesn’t get much smellier, I’m not worried.
His butt, of course, is another matter. Boys. Sheesh.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Top Bully
I can’t believe that they gave it to fucking Ilan. This feels even shadier than when Ruben beat Clay. Sure, Marcel is a bit of a tool and a douche. But he’s mostly just a self-aware geek who’s been bullied his whole life and has adjusted and doesn’t let it phase him.
Because that’s what Ilan is. A bully. He took glee in tormenting Marcel. He set other people up against Marcel. He wasn’t playing to win for himself but rather to beat Marcel. Marcel may be cooler than Rimmer (though he’s certainly no Ace Rimmer!) but Lister still never bullied Rimmer. He hassled him and teased him but there was no bullying. Same with Gareth (who isn’t half as cool as Dwight). Tim may have played pranks but he never actively wished harm on him. And he didn’t want to frickin’ PEE on him.
I also can’t believe Elia. She was the only one that stood beside Marcel, her former co-worker, throughout the competition. Until the end when Ilan started mackin’ on her real hard. He moved in to her room? Yeah. That was selfless. I have to wonder how long before his girlfriend dumped him after viewing those episodes. Because Ilan and Elia were so sleeping together by the time they got to Hawaii. I started out rooting for Elia to win. By the end, after her whining and bitching and tattling and lying, I wished that Mia had never sacrificed herself.
And then there’s Sam and Mike. Sam is a passive-aggressive dick. He took credit where credit wasn’t due. But I don’t think he was actively trying to sabotage Marcel. That honor goes to Mikey. I shouldn’t be surprised that he would do something as awful as leave a fucking main ingredient behind. That was cold, dude. Cold.
I can’t wait to hear about Marcel’s rising star. Ilan will be forgotten. As well he should. What was with that fake gold chain and the thick red suspenders in the talking head at the end? Gross. Also? You do not bad-mouth Harold. Ever.
Because that’s what Ilan is. A bully. He took glee in tormenting Marcel. He set other people up against Marcel. He wasn’t playing to win for himself but rather to beat Marcel. Marcel may be cooler than Rimmer (though he’s certainly no Ace Rimmer!) but Lister still never bullied Rimmer. He hassled him and teased him but there was no bullying. Same with Gareth (who isn’t half as cool as Dwight). Tim may have played pranks but he never actively wished harm on him. And he didn’t want to frickin’ PEE on him.
I also can’t believe Elia. She was the only one that stood beside Marcel, her former co-worker, throughout the competition. Until the end when Ilan started mackin’ on her real hard. He moved in to her room? Yeah. That was selfless. I have to wonder how long before his girlfriend dumped him after viewing those episodes. Because Ilan and Elia were so sleeping together by the time they got to Hawaii. I started out rooting for Elia to win. By the end, after her whining and bitching and tattling and lying, I wished that Mia had never sacrificed herself.
And then there’s Sam and Mike. Sam is a passive-aggressive dick. He took credit where credit wasn’t due. But I don’t think he was actively trying to sabotage Marcel. That honor goes to Mikey. I shouldn’t be surprised that he would do something as awful as leave a fucking main ingredient behind. That was cold, dude. Cold.
I can’t wait to hear about Marcel’s rising star. Ilan will be forgotten. As well he should. What was with that fake gold chain and the thick red suspenders in the talking head at the end? Gross. Also? You do not bad-mouth Harold. Ever.
Giant Grasshoppers
Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn, was yet another book recommended to me by my aunt-in-law. It was amazing. In 1348 an alien spacecraft was stranded in the woods outside of a small village, as yet untouched by the Black Plague, in southern Germany. The village priest, local skank, and head of the lord’s soldiers discovered the survivors and, after initially thinking they were demons, realized they were hurt and succored them. The lord allowed them to stay as vassals while they worked on ship repair.
The main story was bracketed by occasional chapters set in the near future or an alternate present. In them a couple, he an historian and she a physicist, were poised on the edge of individual theoretical breakthroughs, that just happened to intersect. And the village of Eifelheim, neé Oberhochwald, was the key.
This book was completely engrossing. There were so many philosophical discussions, both natural and religious, between the aliens and the priest as they struggled to understand each others strange ways. And there were so many surprising revelations, such as the aliens completely misinterpreting Christianity and thinking that Jesus himself was an alien overlord who could possibly save them. It was a fun device to have the Paris-educated priest assign Greek terms like "mikrofon" and "atom" to the vastly superior alien technology and scientific knowledge. But also realistic that he would be able to grasp the ideas and see them as something real and not magic.
And the ending! I was reading the final chapters on the bus and just quaking with joy-infused excitement. The way that everything came together was so beautiful and perfect and right. Truly awe inspiring.
The main story was bracketed by occasional chapters set in the near future or an alternate present. In them a couple, he an historian and she a physicist, were poised on the edge of individual theoretical breakthroughs, that just happened to intersect. And the village of Eifelheim, neé Oberhochwald, was the key.
This book was completely engrossing. There were so many philosophical discussions, both natural and religious, between the aliens and the priest as they struggled to understand each others strange ways. And there were so many surprising revelations, such as the aliens completely misinterpreting Christianity and thinking that Jesus himself was an alien overlord who could possibly save them. It was a fun device to have the Paris-educated priest assign Greek terms like "mikrofon" and "atom" to the vastly superior alien technology and scientific knowledge. But also realistic that he would be able to grasp the ideas and see them as something real and not magic.
And the ending! I was reading the final chapters on the bus and just quaking with joy-infused excitement. The way that everything came together was so beautiful and perfect and right. Truly awe inspiring.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Kirk Who?
Having my sister do daycare for the first year of Kirk's life is great for when we need a babysitter; she's always super excited for a chance to spend time with him. And he has a blast spending the night at his Auntie's and playing with his cousins. So we try to use that option on occasions like last night. Mercurial Rage had a fancy cocktail party/photo shoot for their record cover and I wasn't about to miss that! We had a wonderful time and I danced til my feet couldn't dance no more. During the festivities Mr. b got a message saying that my sister didn't want us to pick Kirk up right away in the morning; she wanted more time with him. Aww. Happy to oblige!
But then this morning my sister called with a different plan. My mom was babysitting our nephew and so my sister wanted to take Kirk and her girls up there so all four cousins could play. Sounds reasonable except for a few small details: my sister is notoriously slow, my parents live an hour away, and we wouldn't have a clue when she'd be returning the boy to us. But who are we to begrudge Kirk a chance to play with his cousins and go on an Auntie adventure?
Mr. b and I had a great day. Lazed around, loud sex, driving and shopping without any regard to getting home in time for naps. But by 6:30pm I still hadn't heard from my sister to say that she was on her way back down. At that rate, Kirk wouldn't get home until bedtime. Ridiculous! Sure enough, when I called to investigate, she was doing laundry. And it's those little instances where she completely disregards other people's schedules that remind us why we no longer use her for daycare. I'm confident that Kirk had a wonderful time. But I would have liked to have seen him, oh, at all today.
But then this morning my sister called with a different plan. My mom was babysitting our nephew and so my sister wanted to take Kirk and her girls up there so all four cousins could play. Sounds reasonable except for a few small details: my sister is notoriously slow, my parents live an hour away, and we wouldn't have a clue when she'd be returning the boy to us. But who are we to begrudge Kirk a chance to play with his cousins and go on an Auntie adventure?
Mr. b and I had a great day. Lazed around, loud sex, driving and shopping without any regard to getting home in time for naps. But by 6:30pm I still hadn't heard from my sister to say that she was on her way back down. At that rate, Kirk wouldn't get home until bedtime. Ridiculous! Sure enough, when I called to investigate, she was doing laundry. And it's those little instances where she completely disregards other people's schedules that remind us why we no longer use her for daycare. I'm confident that Kirk had a wonderful time. But I would have liked to have seen him, oh, at all today.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Mommy & Daddy are Idiots
We fucked up. Mr. b and I fucked up big time.
Kirk started cough-puking again sometime after midnight on Friday. Of course he didn't have anything in his stomach by then so all that came out was phlegm. We brought him in to Urgent Care as soon as it opened Saturday morning. At that point he was at least keeping water down.
The Urgent Care doctor explained that it's extremely common for babies to vomit during intense coughing. Lord knows I've hacked hard enough to nearly trigger my gag reflex. She said this whatever-it-is has been going around and it's viral, so we just have to ride it out. She suggested we put Kirk on the BRAT diet (my new favorite acronym--Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast) and give him Pedialyte and popsicles to keep up his energy. He was obviously quite worn down by then since he hadn't been able to eat since lunch the day before. She said specifically to stay away from all dairy products and anything else that may irritate his stomach.
So he was fine the rest of the day Saturday. Couple of naps, lots of liquid, no relapse. He was fine Sunday, acting like his old self and genuinely hungry again. And that's where we fucked it all up.
We were lazy about dinner. Who wants to cook on a Sunday night? So we opened a couple of cans of beef ravioli. Kirk ate shitloads. Then before bed, I let him have some milk. He had had a small amount before his nap--but his stomach had still been fairly empty. This time? "Valley Forge, barf city!"
It was awful. The poor little guy threw up over and over and over. We changed his jammies three times before his stomach was emptied. By the end we were so inured to the gross that we were just catching little half-digested bits of ravioli in our bare hands. He finally was able to fall asleep about 10:00pm and had some Pedialyte a couple of times in the middle of the night.
I felt so bad. We both felt so bad. We totally jumped the gun and Kirk was the one that had to pay. I don't know how long we're supposed to keep him on BRAT, but clearly it wasn't long enough.
Since he doesn't have a fever and really isn't acting sick--apart from the puking--we sent him to daycare today. Apparently 4 out of the 6 kids there had vomit sessions over the weekend. All attributed to a different reason. So it was applesauce all around for the little ones today. And we'll just take it easy for the rest of the week. Lord know I'm sick and tired of doing sick-covered laundry.
Kirk started cough-puking again sometime after midnight on Friday. Of course he didn't have anything in his stomach by then so all that came out was phlegm. We brought him in to Urgent Care as soon as it opened Saturday morning. At that point he was at least keeping water down.
The Urgent Care doctor explained that it's extremely common for babies to vomit during intense coughing. Lord knows I've hacked hard enough to nearly trigger my gag reflex. She said this whatever-it-is has been going around and it's viral, so we just have to ride it out. She suggested we put Kirk on the BRAT diet (my new favorite acronym--Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast) and give him Pedialyte and popsicles to keep up his energy. He was obviously quite worn down by then since he hadn't been able to eat since lunch the day before. She said specifically to stay away from all dairy products and anything else that may irritate his stomach.
So he was fine the rest of the day Saturday. Couple of naps, lots of liquid, no relapse. He was fine Sunday, acting like his old self and genuinely hungry again. And that's where we fucked it all up.
We were lazy about dinner. Who wants to cook on a Sunday night? So we opened a couple of cans of beef ravioli. Kirk ate shitloads. Then before bed, I let him have some milk. He had had a small amount before his nap--but his stomach had still been fairly empty. This time? "Valley Forge, barf city!"
It was awful. The poor little guy threw up over and over and over. We changed his jammies three times before his stomach was emptied. By the end we were so inured to the gross that we were just catching little half-digested bits of ravioli in our bare hands. He finally was able to fall asleep about 10:00pm and had some Pedialyte a couple of times in the middle of the night.
I felt so bad. We both felt so bad. We totally jumped the gun and Kirk was the one that had to pay. I don't know how long we're supposed to keep him on BRAT, but clearly it wasn't long enough.
Since he doesn't have a fever and really isn't acting sick--apart from the puking--we sent him to daycare today. Apparently 4 out of the 6 kids there had vomit sessions over the weekend. All attributed to a different reason. So it was applesauce all around for the little ones today. And we'll just take it easy for the rest of the week. Lord know I'm sick and tired of doing sick-covered laundry.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Cough & Puke
Kirk's been puking today. It's really weird and I'm kind of concerned because I just don't know what's wrong. He's not feverish. He doesn't have a cold beyond the January sniffles that everyone has right now. But three times now he's coughed really hard and then thrown up. He did it last night while asleep; Mr. b discovered the mess at 4:30am when Kirk woke up and called for us. He was fine today though, until I was making dinner. Coughing fit, then puke, all over the kitchen floor. The nurse line advised us to not feed him, not give him milk, and only give him clear liquids like juice or water. But then shortly before bedtime the same thing happened and he threw up all the juice he'd drank! I'm paranoid about him now. He's sleeping peacefully but of course he's no longer propped up on his pillows. I'm afraid if I try to move him he'll wake up. I don't think we need to go to the emergency room when Mr. b gets home from closing the café tonight or anything. But I do think we should go to the urgent care in the morning. I just don't want it to be something in his lungs or something weird and old fashioned like the croup.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Blooming Dogs
Rose in Bloom Louisa May Alcott
Crack. This book was crack. I wish there were more Rose books because I would totally read more. It almost makes me want to read other Alcott stuff—and I was never really that into Little Women! I’m glad that Louisa May has a sibling death fixation; Rose totally would’ve gone for the bad boy Prince Charlie instead of Mac who she was obviously meant for.
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time Mark Haddon
Another ridiculously fast read. The narrator of the book is a 15 year old autistic boy; he is investigating the murder of his neighbor’s dog. It was amazing. I loved the way his world-view was described and the way he over-explained things like using prime numbers for the chapters. It was a compelling story, too! And one of the best, most satisfying, last lines I’ve read in a long time.
Since I read Jane Eyre I have encountered references to it twice. Mr. Rochester is apparently a Romantic archetype; he was mentioned in both the Chet Arthur Conspiracy and in Rose in Bloom.
Crack. This book was crack. I wish there were more Rose books because I would totally read more. It almost makes me want to read other Alcott stuff—and I was never really that into Little Women! I’m glad that Louisa May has a sibling death fixation; Rose totally would’ve gone for the bad boy Prince Charlie instead of Mac who she was obviously meant for.
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time Mark Haddon
Another ridiculously fast read. The narrator of the book is a 15 year old autistic boy; he is investigating the murder of his neighbor’s dog. It was amazing. I loved the way his world-view was described and the way he over-explained things like using prime numbers for the chapters. It was a compelling story, too! And one of the best, most satisfying, last lines I’ve read in a long time.
Since I read Jane Eyre I have encountered references to it twice. Mr. Rochester is apparently a Romantic archetype; he was mentioned in both the Chet Arthur Conspiracy and in Rose in Bloom.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Splish, Splash, I Refuse to Take a Bath
Kirk’s going through a weird phase. Everything is just so freakin’ hard. Bath-time is currently the worst. It’s like he’s scared of the water or something! He still continues to prefer standing (though he doesn’t like showers so that option is out) in the tub. But instead of banging on the wall and playing with his duckies and the shampoo bottles, he leans over the edge of the tub and wails. It’s virtually impossible to even dump a cup of water over his head to wet him down pre-shampoo. Forget about rinsing! He will not be forced into sitting. And if you physically restrain him on the other side of the tub so you can rinse him without pouring water all over the floor, it’s like you’re torturing him or something. I have no idea what his deal is. He’s mildly better if one of us is in the tub with him so we’ve started trading off taking baths. He’ll sit in my lap and let me rinse him but he won’t sit on the tub floor. Last night he bathed with his Daddy and wouldn’t even sit in his lap. Yet at the end of the bath, if you can distract him into finally playing with toys or at least the rinse-cup, he’ll eventually sit. Especially if the water is draining. I just don’t get it. For a while he was trying to actually swim in the tub; after being soaped and rinsed he’d get down on his belly and scoot backwards and forwards in the water. I have no clue why he’s reverted so far from that behavior.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
The Year in (Book) Review
The Chester A. Arthur Conspiracy was very hard for me to get into. I was quite excited by the prospect of an alternate history surrounding Chet’s administration. Along with Polk, he’s Mr. b’s favorite president so I thought it would be fun to constantly check in and see where the subtle changes were happening. But it wasn’t really like that. SPOILER ALERT In fact, there were no changes to “known” history. John Wilkes Booth was secretly not dead and cuckolded Arthur. Nell still died, though it was a fake death to run off with her lover. When telling this to Chester, he died of a heart attack and Wilkes assumed his identity. He presided over the caucus that nominated Garfield, became the Vice President, assumed the presidency after Garfield’s assassination, and then died, though that was also a fake death. So it was just a very strange premise. I didn’t really start to enjoy it even a little bit until after Chet was dead. And by the end, I felt so little sympathy for Wilkes that I was rooting for his aide to get his revenge. It was thoroughly researched and very accurate, but also written in a stilted “period” present tense that was difficult to penetrate.
I read 19 books in 2006. Certainly not as good as my best year since I began keeping track (47 in 2004) but better than I thought. I started out the year barely keeping up with the one-book-a-month book club requirements. After switching daycare I was able to take the bus again and so that improved my average quite nicely. I hope to be able to read two books a month, though I’m not going to pressure myself. I do think I’m going to declare an official New Year’s Resolution to read more comic books. I miss them. I need to take the time to just read an issue of something every weekend.
I think my favorite books of the year were Eight Cousins and War for the Oaks. Though there were none that I outright despised. I’d recommend most of them and will possibly even reread a couple of them at some future time.
1. The Lady and the Unicorn Tracy Chevalier
2. Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper Diablo Cody
3. My Year of Meats Ruth Ozeki
4. The Bell Jar Sylvia Plath
5. The Cabinet of Curiosities Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
6. Serenity: Those Left Behind Joss Whedon
7. The Peshawar Lancers S.M. Stirling
8. White Fang Jack London
9. A Cook’s Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisine Anthony Bourdain
10. Bee Season Myla Goldberg
11. Eldest Christopher Paolini
12. Frankenstein Mary Shelley
13. Eight Cousins or the Aunt-Hill Louisa May Alcott
14. War for the Oaks Emma Bull
15. ReVISIONS Edited by Julie E. Czerneda & Isaac Szpindel
16. Mercy Jody Picoult
17. The Wizard, the Witch, & Two Girls from Jersey Lisa Papademetriou
18. The Secret Agent Joseph Conrad
19. Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë
20. The Chester A. Arthur Conspiracy William Wiegand
I read 19 books in 2006. Certainly not as good as my best year since I began keeping track (47 in 2004) but better than I thought. I started out the year barely keeping up with the one-book-a-month book club requirements. After switching daycare I was able to take the bus again and so that improved my average quite nicely. I hope to be able to read two books a month, though I’m not going to pressure myself. I do think I’m going to declare an official New Year’s Resolution to read more comic books. I miss them. I need to take the time to just read an issue of something every weekend.
I think my favorite books of the year were Eight Cousins and War for the Oaks. Though there were none that I outright despised. I’d recommend most of them and will possibly even reread a couple of them at some future time.
1. The Lady and the Unicorn Tracy Chevalier
2. Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper Diablo Cody
3. My Year of Meats Ruth Ozeki
4. The Bell Jar Sylvia Plath
5. The Cabinet of Curiosities Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
6. Serenity: Those Left Behind Joss Whedon
7. The Peshawar Lancers S.M. Stirling
8. White Fang Jack London
9. A Cook’s Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisine Anthony Bourdain
10. Bee Season Myla Goldberg
11. Eldest Christopher Paolini
12. Frankenstein Mary Shelley
13. Eight Cousins or the Aunt-Hill Louisa May Alcott
14. War for the Oaks Emma Bull
15. ReVISIONS Edited by Julie E. Czerneda & Isaac Szpindel
16. Mercy Jody Picoult
17. The Wizard, the Witch, & Two Girls from Jersey Lisa Papademetriou
18. The Secret Agent Joseph Conrad
19. Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë
20. The Chester A. Arthur Conspiracy William Wiegand
So Tired
I am starting to dread sleeping on my left side. Increasingly it means that Kirk is in bed with us. He freaks out if he is not resting his head on my arm, which then cuts off the circulation and severely limits my range of possible comfortable positions. Occasionally I can lift him over to my right side for a brief time, or he may allow complete cuddling with his daddy so I can turn over.
The sleep weirdness is at a breaking point for me. Last night, after 2 hours of the Kirkus Circus starting around 1am, I couldn’t take anymore and banished him back to his crib to cry. Mr. b managed to get him to fall asleep by holding him in the recliner but it was brutal. During the week or so we were gone over the Yuletide, Kirk was not in bed with me only 2 of those nights. And one of those he was in his Gramma’s bed. He traveled fantastically; rode really well and wasn’t too overwhelmed by the extended family (including my parents, his Godmother/Great Auntie’s in-laws, and assorted friends) gathered for the week in Texas. But he hasn’t returned to his normal routine since we’ve been back. I have to hope that daycare will help that transition.
On top of that, Kirk’s just been extra naughty. I honestly think he’s entering The Terrible Twos, despite this being only his 18 month birthday today. He’s so willful, saying “No, no, no, no” when something doesn’t go his way, hitting Mommy and the kitty and the windows, climbing up any chairs he’s tall enough to get into on his own, destroying his crib and pulling on his window shades when he doesn’t want to go to bed. He fought with his 3 year old cousin quite a lot while in Texas; I’m sure that was largely due to my nephew never previously having to really share his boy toys, his big sister is too girly to be interested, and certainly not having to share his Grandparents’ attention with another boy. During all the evenings that Gramma watched Kirk, she got him fully transitioned off the nigh-nigh bottle—that being the last hold out that Mr. b and I were just too lazy to switch over to a sippy cup. That’s fabulous! But he also learned how to open doors. Now we need to make sure everything’s locked so he doesn’t escape.
Kirk’s got his 18 month check up on Thursday so I’ll be able to run all this by Doc. He’s working on another molar so I’m sure that isn’t helping matters. I worry about his vocabulary sometimes, because he doesn’t pronounce words fully. But he uses the beginnings of words in their correct context, so it’s pretty easy for me to know what he means, even though “Mama” can be either Mommy or Daddy. Or “parents”. “Muh” can be more or mine, “bah” can be bottle or boat or butt or box or bath depending on how he uses it. That kind of thing. Of course, “Mama, wha’s that” needs no extra explanation. I just have to figure out what he wants me to name or look at.
In the meantime, I just need to figure out how to get some sleep.
The sleep weirdness is at a breaking point for me. Last night, after 2 hours of the Kirkus Circus starting around 1am, I couldn’t take anymore and banished him back to his crib to cry. Mr. b managed to get him to fall asleep by holding him in the recliner but it was brutal. During the week or so we were gone over the Yuletide, Kirk was not in bed with me only 2 of those nights. And one of those he was in his Gramma’s bed. He traveled fantastically; rode really well and wasn’t too overwhelmed by the extended family (including my parents, his Godmother/Great Auntie’s in-laws, and assorted friends) gathered for the week in Texas. But he hasn’t returned to his normal routine since we’ve been back. I have to hope that daycare will help that transition.
On top of that, Kirk’s just been extra naughty. I honestly think he’s entering The Terrible Twos, despite this being only his 18 month birthday today. He’s so willful, saying “No, no, no, no” when something doesn’t go his way, hitting Mommy and the kitty and the windows, climbing up any chairs he’s tall enough to get into on his own, destroying his crib and pulling on his window shades when he doesn’t want to go to bed. He fought with his 3 year old cousin quite a lot while in Texas; I’m sure that was largely due to my nephew never previously having to really share his boy toys, his big sister is too girly to be interested, and certainly not having to share his Grandparents’ attention with another boy. During all the evenings that Gramma watched Kirk, she got him fully transitioned off the nigh-nigh bottle—that being the last hold out that Mr. b and I were just too lazy to switch over to a sippy cup. That’s fabulous! But he also learned how to open doors. Now we need to make sure everything’s locked so he doesn’t escape.
Kirk’s got his 18 month check up on Thursday so I’ll be able to run all this by Doc. He’s working on another molar so I’m sure that isn’t helping matters. I worry about his vocabulary sometimes, because he doesn’t pronounce words fully. But he uses the beginnings of words in their correct context, so it’s pretty easy for me to know what he means, even though “Mama” can be either Mommy or Daddy. Or “parents”. “Muh” can be more or mine, “bah” can be bottle or boat or butt or box or bath depending on how he uses it. That kind of thing. Of course, “Mama, wha’s that” needs no extra explanation. I just have to figure out what he wants me to name or look at.
In the meantime, I just need to figure out how to get some sleep.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
You Spin Me Right Round Baby
Kirk loves bling. He'll carry around Mr. b's Halloween Barry Gibb chain and put it on and take it off. And put it on and take it off. Even better is a string of blue Mardi Gras style beads, probably from Pride. They're just a bit longer so easier to pull over his head on his own.
He's also gotten really into dancing. He's always been a very aurally aware baby. Now he's totally into "real" music, and not his little kid stuff. He'll hold his daddy's phone and jam out to whatever songs he manages to put on (oddly enough, it's usually Merc Rage's "Devil Girl"). If we're hanging out downstairs then Kirk wants a record on the turntable. We've been listening to a lot of 70s stuff, from Pink Floyd to Andy Gibb. Kirk's got some hilarious moves including turning around with one hand in the air and lifting his right leg and pointing it repeatedly. Awesome.
We think we need to get him some kind of mp3 player for Christmas but it's just ridiculous to even consider buying him an iPod or an iTunes phone. Not gonna happen! But so far I haven't discovered anything that exists that is handheld and doesn't come preloaded with nursery rhymes. We have one of those kitschy jukebox style mini plastic radios that I think will have to do for now. At least then he can have fun spinning the dial through the stations--until he breaks off the antenna. I wonder where I put it?
Monday, December 11, 2006
Keep Out
I’ve finally figured out why parents pretty much universally keep their bedroom's door shut at all times. And it’s not for the reasons I would have assumed. It’s not because of sex. It’s not because of...the Poltergeist parents’ activities. It’s to keep your stuff safe. As the rest of the house slowly becomes child-proofed, our bedroom becomes a repository for all the things that Kirk shouldn’t get into, like jewelry and guitar picks and library books and power supplies. Kirk has long enjoyed playing at the Mommy Fun Zone—the clock radio and cordless phone on my bedside table. But he recently discovered that my bedside table has a drawer. That he can open. And now my security key to remotely work from home is missing. Hooray.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Neverending Story
Kirk never doesn’t want us to read him a story. He is constantly handing us books to read to him. We are going out of our heads! We took him to Baby Storytime at the library twice and that definitely coincides with the start of his book obsession. Coincidence or cause? Who knows.
He won’t sit still long enough for full-length Dr. Seuss books yet. But we know the abridged board book versions by heart! Mr. b actually had to hide the Curious George board books because Kirk digs ‘em the most and we just couldn’t bear to look at them again. At least for a while. We decided that for Christmas, since lord knows he doesn’t need any more toys, we’re just going to get him books. So that we can have something new to look at. At least for a while.
Thankfully, it hasn’t turned me off my own reading for pleasure. I wish I had more time for it. I finished Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. I enjoyed it, but it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I figured that it would be a Regency comedy of manners in the Austen style. It was a bit darker than that! Jane, for all her modern, independent woman trappings, really was emotionally damaged. Of course that’s largely due to her anti-Eight Cousins style orphanhood! Once she moved to Thornfield and encountered Mr. Rochester, it felt a bit like Rebecca, especially with the Mrs. Poole mystery. (I wonder if Daphne du Maurier was a fan?) Regardless, I was very pleased by the eventual happy ending. But boy did Jane have to go down a long road to finally get there!
He won’t sit still long enough for full-length Dr. Seuss books yet. But we know the abridged board book versions by heart! Mr. b actually had to hide the Curious George board books because Kirk digs ‘em the most and we just couldn’t bear to look at them again. At least for a while. We decided that for Christmas, since lord knows he doesn’t need any more toys, we’re just going to get him books. So that we can have something new to look at. At least for a while.
Thankfully, it hasn’t turned me off my own reading for pleasure. I wish I had more time for it. I finished Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. I enjoyed it, but it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I figured that it would be a Regency comedy of manners in the Austen style. It was a bit darker than that! Jane, for all her modern, independent woman trappings, really was emotionally damaged. Of course that’s largely due to her anti-Eight Cousins style orphanhood! Once she moved to Thornfield and encountered Mr. Rochester, it felt a bit like Rebecca, especially with the Mrs. Poole mystery. (I wonder if Daphne du Maurier was a fan?) Regardless, I was very pleased by the eventual happy ending. But boy did Jane have to go down a long road to finally get there!
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Talkies
I've finally made the switch to keeping the baby monitor off at night. It's weird; I'm very used to the sound of it as background noise. And it definitely takes longer for me to hear Kirk when he wakes up. But eventually my brain realizes that "Mama! Mih!" isn't part of a dream and I get up.
It took me a while to notice that "mih" is milk. Kirk's gotten quite good at the few signs we've really worked on and can clearly differentiate between ones like milk and drink and eat. So I just didn't pay attention to the sounds that went with the signs. Plus, for quite a while all his words were either H or B words. Hat. Head. Hi! Hot. Ball. Bye. Book. That kind of thing.
Even though they are actual words, used in the correct context, he's not always pronouncing all of them fully. I really understand the Mom Ear that is an integral component of Baby Talk. If I don't translate his syllables, people think he's just babbling, riffing on a consonant sound. He's not up to multiple syllables yet either. But it's really fun watching his language skills develop. It seems like he's got a new word almost everyday. And the ones that he's already got down are obtaining multiple meanings. Like "hot", which started out to mean cooking and now means food and the kitchen and fire and the oven. (Kirk loves the oven. I turn the light on when I'm baking and he stands peering in, mezmerized.)
Mostly though, it's just really effin' adorable watching Kirk say hi to random people, like at the grocery store.
It took me a while to notice that "mih" is milk. Kirk's gotten quite good at the few signs we've really worked on and can clearly differentiate between ones like milk and drink and eat. So I just didn't pay attention to the sounds that went with the signs. Plus, for quite a while all his words were either H or B words. Hat. Head. Hi! Hot. Ball. Bye. Book. That kind of thing.
Even though they are actual words, used in the correct context, he's not always pronouncing all of them fully. I really understand the Mom Ear that is an integral component of Baby Talk. If I don't translate his syllables, people think he's just babbling, riffing on a consonant sound. He's not up to multiple syllables yet either. But it's really fun watching his language skills develop. It seems like he's got a new word almost everyday. And the ones that he's already got down are obtaining multiple meanings. Like "hot", which started out to mean cooking and now means food and the kitchen and fire and the oven. (Kirk loves the oven. I turn the light on when I'm baking and he stands peering in, mezmerized.)
Mostly though, it's just really effin' adorable watching Kirk say hi to random people, like at the grocery store.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Lighten Up
Dammit. My sister has me all paranoid about keeping a light on in Kirk's room. Since he was born I've kept a small lamp on the lowest setting on in his room at night. He pulls nightlights out of the socket and I need to be able to see when I go in there at night. She peeked in there on Friday night and was amazed at how bright it was. I didn't think it was that bright! Then she went on about how she's read that keeping a light on in your kid's room hurts their eye development (I don't buy that at all) and can instigate fear of the dark (this I can buy). So now I'm wondering if Kirk's going to get all phobic about the dark just because I personally like to have a light on. And I've always slept with a nightlight. I like to be able to see at least a little bit if I wake up. I don't need much; the light from the clock or an LED or something else small is plenty after my eyes have adjusted. So now I'm freaking myself out for probably no reason but mostly I'm just pissed that I let her get to me like this. You'd think I was the younger sister and not the oldest.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Information Overload
I’m convinced that Kirk has insomnia. It’s ridiculous! If he wakes up in the middle of the night it’s getting harder and harder to get him back to sleep. We offer him milk or juice or cuddles and rocking and he just stares blankly at the ceiling, screaming when he’s put back in his bed. I can listen to him cry himself to sleep at the beginning of the night when I’m watching TV or cleaning. But at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to fall back to sleep after having spent a half hour ministering to his needs? I cave. He gets brought into our bed. But I hate just bringing him in without at least trying. I don’t want him to think he can sleep with Mommy and Daddy whenever he wants simply by being a pain.
I finally got my hair cut off. I’ve been bitching about it for weeks. I was so over that hair. I used to change my hair all the time. Well, not with Diablo-frequency (who is currently sporting a fantastic fuchsia color!) but still a lot for the average person!! I love it. It’s kind of Edie Sedgwick, but messier and asymmetrical and more modern. I feel like I should always wear eyeliner and dress mod! Kirk still looks at me out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t scared or anything, but definitely wary of the change.
Kirk broke a spoon. I stupidly gave him a plastic slotted spoon yesterday and he banged it against his tray so hard it shattered. A piece landed on my head and I shrieked, thinking it was a bug. I really need to get him a new wooden spoon.
It’s weird trading nights out. I feel like I’ve been going to so many shows. It’s like the old days! But really, it’s just because we had a sitter last weekend for Mr. b’s gig and then I went out this Saturday with Diablo after Mr. b had been out on Friday. (Attention Minneapolis: Go see First Communion After Party. They are 60's California psychedelic and amazing.) It’s taking some getting used to. After so many years of going to shows with my husband, it’s a bit odd to not have him there. It’s not like we even hang out while at the bar or club or party. But we arrive together and leave together and it’s weird not seeing him across the room. However, I’m glad to be getting the chance to get out of the house. It’s definitely important to see more people than just my family and co-workers. I've been planning girl's dinner with Auntie G every couple of months, too. Don't want to fall into any martyr-mother traps if I can help it.
Kirk loves hiding. He ducks around the corner of the counter or the couch or the hall and peeks out and squeals in delight when you "find" him. It is frakkin’ adorable.
I finally got my hair cut off. I’ve been bitching about it for weeks. I was so over that hair. I used to change my hair all the time. Well, not with Diablo-frequency (who is currently sporting a fantastic fuchsia color!) but still a lot for the average person!! I love it. It’s kind of Edie Sedgwick, but messier and asymmetrical and more modern. I feel like I should always wear eyeliner and dress mod! Kirk still looks at me out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t scared or anything, but definitely wary of the change.
Kirk broke a spoon. I stupidly gave him a plastic slotted spoon yesterday and he banged it against his tray so hard it shattered. A piece landed on my head and I shrieked, thinking it was a bug. I really need to get him a new wooden spoon.
It’s weird trading nights out. I feel like I’ve been going to so many shows. It’s like the old days! But really, it’s just because we had a sitter last weekend for Mr. b’s gig and then I went out this Saturday with Diablo after Mr. b had been out on Friday. (Attention Minneapolis: Go see First Communion After Party. They are 60's California psychedelic and amazing.) It’s taking some getting used to. After so many years of going to shows with my husband, it’s a bit odd to not have him there. It’s not like we even hang out while at the bar or club or party. But we arrive together and leave together and it’s weird not seeing him across the room. However, I’m glad to be getting the chance to get out of the house. It’s definitely important to see more people than just my family and co-workers. I've been planning girl's dinner with Auntie G every couple of months, too. Don't want to fall into any martyr-mother traps if I can help it.
Kirk loves hiding. He ducks around the corner of the counter or the couch or the hall and peeks out and squeals in delight when you "find" him. It is frakkin’ adorable.
Book Round-Up
ReVISIONS Edited by Julie E. Czerneda & Isaac Szpindel
I love alternative histories and I love short stories so this collection was simply ideal for me. It was so much fun starting a story and trying to guess what the change was before it became obvious. And the changes ran the gamut from modern (like the internet) to ancient (like the domestication of the dog). It was very satisfying. I was inspired to come up with my own alt. What if Polk had never been President, there had been no Mexican war, there had been no annexation of California, the movie industry had never moved from the East to Hollywood? I considered signing up for NaNoWriMo for 0.68 seconds, which, of course, is an eternity for an android. But I realized that I barely have time to read, much less write.
Mercy Jody Picoult
I had no idea what this book was about; I hadn’t even read the dust jacket. It was fascinating finding out what I was in for. "Hey, these guys are seriously Scottish!" It was such a thought-provoking read. I was compelled to review my own relationship constantly throughout the course of the action. The idea of such varieties of love was really amazing. I kept picturing Elia from Top Chef as Mia for some reason.
The Wizard, the Witch, & Two Girls from Jersey Lisa Papademetriou
My aunt picked this out for me and said, "It’s every fantasy book ever written." She wasn’t kidding! But it was lovingly satirical, not just derivative, so it was a fun game of spot-the-reference. She even named several books outright! I was proud of myself that I’ve read all but two of those.
The Secret Agent Joseph Conrad
I love Conrad and am regularly amazed by his command of the English language. He’s so vivid and intuitive. His character internal-workings are revelatory. I remembered almost nothing about this book, other than the fact that I loved it. It’s definitely different than his other books—the setting, there’s no story-within-a-story book-ending, there are more characters. This tale could be allegorical to our modern times if it wasn’t written a century ago.
I love alternative histories and I love short stories so this collection was simply ideal for me. It was so much fun starting a story and trying to guess what the change was before it became obvious. And the changes ran the gamut from modern (like the internet) to ancient (like the domestication of the dog). It was very satisfying. I was inspired to come up with my own alt. What if Polk had never been President, there had been no Mexican war, there had been no annexation of California, the movie industry had never moved from the East to Hollywood? I considered signing up for NaNoWriMo for 0.68 seconds, which, of course, is an eternity for an android. But I realized that I barely have time to read, much less write.
Mercy Jody Picoult
I had no idea what this book was about; I hadn’t even read the dust jacket. It was fascinating finding out what I was in for. "Hey, these guys are seriously Scottish!" It was such a thought-provoking read. I was compelled to review my own relationship constantly throughout the course of the action. The idea of such varieties of love was really amazing. I kept picturing Elia from Top Chef as Mia for some reason.
The Wizard, the Witch, & Two Girls from Jersey Lisa Papademetriou
My aunt picked this out for me and said, "It’s every fantasy book ever written." She wasn’t kidding! But it was lovingly satirical, not just derivative, so it was a fun game of spot-the-reference. She even named several books outright! I was proud of myself that I’ve read all but two of those.
The Secret Agent Joseph Conrad
I love Conrad and am regularly amazed by his command of the English language. He’s so vivid and intuitive. His character internal-workings are revelatory. I remembered almost nothing about this book, other than the fact that I loved it. It’s definitely different than his other books—the setting, there’s no story-within-a-story book-ending, there are more characters. This tale could be allegorical to our modern times if it wasn’t written a century ago.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Again?!
I'm home with feverish Kirk. Again. It's just way too similar to what happened two weeks ago. He was hot all night and tossed and turned and we administered Tylenol every 6 hours. When we got up this morning he was burning. He had an ancillary (armpit) temp of 102.2 so I decided to keep him at home. Of course once the latest dose of Tylenol kicked in he was close to normal.
I feel like he's been to the doctor 80 million times in the last month or so. I decided to just call the Nurse Line. I feel much better about being able to simply keep him under observation instead of rushing him in to a clinic now.
The thing is, I'm 90% sure it's teething, possibly with a small cold thrown in for good measure. But there seems to be a major rift regarding teething: is fever a symptom or not? Doctors, parents, and daycare providers all line up on one side or the other. Kirk has other symptoms that are acknowledged as teething signs--he didn't eat much last night, he's got an excess of drool/snot, he's grinding his teeth, he's occasionally tugging on his ear. Then again, those can also indicate other issues, which is why we took him in last time. But he got a clean bill of health from Doc just last week so I'd be shocked if he's got another ear infection again already.
Molars are supposed to be a major bitch. Last weekend while pushing Kirk in the swing at the park, he leaned back and laughed and I saw that one of his molars had cut through. Interesting timing. So I'm inclined to think that he's working on another molar. I don't remember fever being involved for the front teeth. He was extra bitey, but that's about it. I'm not ready to pick a side but I'm definitely leaning towards fever=teething.
I feel like he's been to the doctor 80 million times in the last month or so. I decided to just call the Nurse Line. I feel much better about being able to simply keep him under observation instead of rushing him in to a clinic now.
The thing is, I'm 90% sure it's teething, possibly with a small cold thrown in for good measure. But there seems to be a major rift regarding teething: is fever a symptom or not? Doctors, parents, and daycare providers all line up on one side or the other. Kirk has other symptoms that are acknowledged as teething signs--he didn't eat much last night, he's got an excess of drool/snot, he's grinding his teeth, he's occasionally tugging on his ear. Then again, those can also indicate other issues, which is why we took him in last time. But he got a clean bill of health from Doc just last week so I'd be shocked if he's got another ear infection again already.
Molars are supposed to be a major bitch. Last weekend while pushing Kirk in the swing at the park, he leaned back and laughed and I saw that one of his molars had cut through. Interesting timing. So I'm inclined to think that he's working on another molar. I don't remember fever being involved for the front teeth. He was extra bitey, but that's about it. I'm not ready to pick a side but I'm definitely leaning towards fever=teething.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Spoonie Love
Kirk's favorite thing in the world is a spoon. I gave him a shitty old wooden spoon that had a chunk out of it so I obviously couldn't use it for cooking anymore. He didn't let go of it for weeks. He'd bring it in the bathtub. He'd carry it out to the car. It traveled everywhere. It went missing earlier this week. I haven't got a clue where it might be.
But the spoon fetish continues. It doesn't really seem to matter the type, size, shape, materials, anything. He's just as happy with a metal serving spoon as he is with a plastic soup spoon. My mom told me tonight that my sister went through a major spoon phase when she was little, too. Is that kind of weirdness hereditary?!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The Devil
We wanted Kirk to be a skeleton for Halloween but couldn't find an outfit in his size. Demon was an excellent back-up plan.
Kirk was quite enamoured of his Jack-o-Lantern bucket even before we went Trick-or-Treating. We only went to a handful of houses, maybe 8 in all. He didn't quite get how it worked, and Mr. b had to hold him the whole time, but it was still fun. He got so cold by the end though that Mr. b gave him a bath while I passed out candy.
On Saturday we attended Suctionprint's annual costume party.
Kirk spent most of his time playing near, but not necessarily with, the only other little guy that attended.
Kitchen implements were the favorite toy. Naturally.
Kirk was quite enamoured of his Jack-o-Lantern bucket even before we went Trick-or-Treating. We only went to a handful of houses, maybe 8 in all. He didn't quite get how it worked, and Mr. b had to hold him the whole time, but it was still fun. He got so cold by the end though that Mr. b gave him a bath while I passed out candy.
On Saturday we attended Suctionprint's annual costume party.
Kirk spent most of his time playing near, but not necessarily with, the only other little guy that attended.
Kitchen implements were the favorite toy. Naturally.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Sick and Tired of Sickness
It’s annual benefits enrollment time at work. I need to finally really research my options. I haven’t paid attention since I first started. I need to make sure that I've got the right insurance now that there's more than just me and won't-go-to-the-doctor-even-though-he-totally-broke-his-hands-falling-off-his-bike Mr. b.
This new-fangled health care spending account thing is pretty cool. Same with the daycare spending account. I like the idea of paying for necessities like baby Tylenol pre-tax. Sure, it’s complicated, but I think it’s going to be worth it. And lord knows that at times like this, I can use a way to avoid the myriad clinic co-pays coming directly out of our checking account.
We took Kirk off his antibiotics on Sunday. His ass was worse than I’ve ever seen. It was _thisclose_ to blistering with diaper rash. We had been trying to just muscle through but then he got a mysterious rash all over his back and front, too. It didn’t seem to be itchy, just red and slightly bumpy. Sunday night was awful. We brought Kirk into bed because of his frequent awakening. But even that didn’t really help. He wasn’t feverish like last week. But he was whimpering and crying most of the night. Clearly, something is the matter. His batted at his infected ear a couple of times but both Mr. b and I got the feeling that it was teething and/or growth spurt.
Last night Kirk only woke up once and he went back to sleep after some cuddles and a couple of ounces of milk. Thursday I get my stitches removed and so Doc had me schedule Kirk at the same time for an ear check. It’ll be interesting to hear what she has to say about this whole saga. I’m guessing she’ll have him get the ear infection shot that the other doctor mentioned when we brought him in last week. I sure hope the poor boy gets over this blasted thing soon.
At least it’s Samhain. So I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.
This new-fangled health care spending account thing is pretty cool. Same with the daycare spending account. I like the idea of paying for necessities like baby Tylenol pre-tax. Sure, it’s complicated, but I think it’s going to be worth it. And lord knows that at times like this, I can use a way to avoid the myriad clinic co-pays coming directly out of our checking account.
We took Kirk off his antibiotics on Sunday. His ass was worse than I’ve ever seen. It was _thisclose_ to blistering with diaper rash. We had been trying to just muscle through but then he got a mysterious rash all over his back and front, too. It didn’t seem to be itchy, just red and slightly bumpy. Sunday night was awful. We brought Kirk into bed because of his frequent awakening. But even that didn’t really help. He wasn’t feverish like last week. But he was whimpering and crying most of the night. Clearly, something is the matter. His batted at his infected ear a couple of times but both Mr. b and I got the feeling that it was teething and/or growth spurt.
Last night Kirk only woke up once and he went back to sleep after some cuddles and a couple of ounces of milk. Thursday I get my stitches removed and so Doc had me schedule Kirk at the same time for an ear check. It’ll be interesting to hear what she has to say about this whole saga. I’m guessing she’ll have him get the ear infection shot that the other doctor mentioned when we brought him in last week. I sure hope the poor boy gets over this blasted thing soon.
At least it’s Samhain. So I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Bad Timing
Why does everything inevitably happen at once?
Tuesday morning I went in to have 3 moles removed. They were big, the one on my back huge, and weird, and I'd had them my whole life. I watched the one on my chest change and get bigger during pregnancy, yet another fun side-effect, and knew the others were doing the same. I figured since I've given birth, I ought to be able to handle a little minor out-patient surgery. 'Sides, Doc fancies herself an amateur plastic surgeon, so I didn't even have to get referred to a dermatologist.
The problem was that the Novocain knocked me on my ass. And when it wore off, I was in pain. And then Kirk got sick.
Tuesday night Kirk just didn't seem right but I couldn't put my finger on it. He woke up in the middle of the night with a high fever and was just burning up in bed with us the rest of the night. I managed to get him a doctor appointment in the morning. There was blood on my jammie shirt from the mole holes. I was so worried about him. I just felt like Kirk has had something pretty much constantly for the last several months. Is that a sign of something more serious? I know babies don't have much of an immune system. This is what he's working on building. But I still couldn't keep the paranoia completely at bay.
The doctor said that his ear was infected. The same ear that Doc discovered was infected at his 15 month appointment. Basically the ear infection fluid can sit around in the ear, not causing any troubles, until one day it suddenly decides to get all germy again and then bam! Sigh. Doc had put Kirk on a different antibiotic since he had just come off Amoxicillin for the pink eye. So that means that Kirk is now on a third antibiotic to try to clear up the lingering infection.
I, of course, had to stay home with the poor sick boy yesterday. And my mole holes still hurt. And Kirk was still quite fevery. Then at dinner, he threw up. He gagged from trying to stick too many peanuts in his mouth at once and then spewed. Sure, it was mainly liquid; he really hadn't eaten much. But that's still not a good sign. And then the splattery farting started. Thank gods for diapers!
Mr. b managed to switch shifts so he could stay home with the boy today. And he got a hold of the pharmacist who said that the main side effect of this particular medication is an upset stomach and diarrhea. Yay.
Unfortunately that means that Mr. b is at work right now and Kirk keeps waking up. He woke up while I was in the shower. He woke up while I was contorting to try and change my mole dressings. He woke up when Mr. b called to find out how he was doing. I think he'll be able to go to daycare tomorrow, he really is doing much better, but I don't think he'll make it through the whole night in his crib.
The upside to all this is that I think I finally found the magazine I've been looking for. My mom always gets me a subscription to something for Christmas. For years it was Newsweek. I don't have time for another weekly magazine these days; I can barely keep up with Entertainment Weekly! So last year I requested that she get me Jane instead. I used to love Jane. Who doesn't? I was a Sassy girl and it was the perfect transition. But it had been several years since I actually opened an issue of Jane. I'm just _thismuch_ too old and/or mature for it. I really don't need tips for hooking up with emo guys at the rock show, hangover remedies for the next morning, or instructions on how to change my outfit so my coworkers can't tell I'm wearing the same thing the next day. I like the fashion but the rest is mostly useless. But where do I turn? I love the recipes in your Good Housekeeping/Ladies Home Journal/Redbook type mags but there's nothing else interesting. Parents is too "I'm my kid's mom". Vogue/Elle/Cosmo is too one-note. Where's the happy medium? Why can't moms care about stylish clothes, fun meals, child care tips, and human interest stories all at once? Why must I segregate all aspects of my life just because I've had a kid? That doesn't make sense. While waiting to go in for my mole removal, I discovered that I'm not the only one that thinks so. Cookie caught my eye. I need to request that my mom gets me that. I think it's my Grail.
Tuesday morning I went in to have 3 moles removed. They were big, the one on my back huge, and weird, and I'd had them my whole life. I watched the one on my chest change and get bigger during pregnancy, yet another fun side-effect, and knew the others were doing the same. I figured since I've given birth, I ought to be able to handle a little minor out-patient surgery. 'Sides, Doc fancies herself an amateur plastic surgeon, so I didn't even have to get referred to a dermatologist.
The problem was that the Novocain knocked me on my ass. And when it wore off, I was in pain. And then Kirk got sick.
Tuesday night Kirk just didn't seem right but I couldn't put my finger on it. He woke up in the middle of the night with a high fever and was just burning up in bed with us the rest of the night. I managed to get him a doctor appointment in the morning. There was blood on my jammie shirt from the mole holes. I was so worried about him. I just felt like Kirk has had something pretty much constantly for the last several months. Is that a sign of something more serious? I know babies don't have much of an immune system. This is what he's working on building. But I still couldn't keep the paranoia completely at bay.
The doctor said that his ear was infected. The same ear that Doc discovered was infected at his 15 month appointment. Basically the ear infection fluid can sit around in the ear, not causing any troubles, until one day it suddenly decides to get all germy again and then bam! Sigh. Doc had put Kirk on a different antibiotic since he had just come off Amoxicillin for the pink eye. So that means that Kirk is now on a third antibiotic to try to clear up the lingering infection.
I, of course, had to stay home with the poor sick boy yesterday. And my mole holes still hurt. And Kirk was still quite fevery. Then at dinner, he threw up. He gagged from trying to stick too many peanuts in his mouth at once and then spewed. Sure, it was mainly liquid; he really hadn't eaten much. But that's still not a good sign. And then the splattery farting started. Thank gods for diapers!
Mr. b managed to switch shifts so he could stay home with the boy today. And he got a hold of the pharmacist who said that the main side effect of this particular medication is an upset stomach and diarrhea. Yay.
Unfortunately that means that Mr. b is at work right now and Kirk keeps waking up. He woke up while I was in the shower. He woke up while I was contorting to try and change my mole dressings. He woke up when Mr. b called to find out how he was doing. I think he'll be able to go to daycare tomorrow, he really is doing much better, but I don't think he'll make it through the whole night in his crib.
The upside to all this is that I think I finally found the magazine I've been looking for. My mom always gets me a subscription to something for Christmas. For years it was Newsweek. I don't have time for another weekly magazine these days; I can barely keep up with Entertainment Weekly! So last year I requested that she get me Jane instead. I used to love Jane. Who doesn't? I was a Sassy girl and it was the perfect transition. But it had been several years since I actually opened an issue of Jane. I'm just _thismuch_ too old and/or mature for it. I really don't need tips for hooking up with emo guys at the rock show, hangover remedies for the next morning, or instructions on how to change my outfit so my coworkers can't tell I'm wearing the same thing the next day. I like the fashion but the rest is mostly useless. But where do I turn? I love the recipes in your Good Housekeeping/Ladies Home Journal/Redbook type mags but there's nothing else interesting. Parents is too "I'm my kid's mom". Vogue/Elle/Cosmo is too one-note. Where's the happy medium? Why can't moms care about stylish clothes, fun meals, child care tips, and human interest stories all at once? Why must I segregate all aspects of my life just because I've had a kid? That doesn't make sense. While waiting to go in for my mole removal, I discovered that I'm not the only one that thinks so. Cookie caught my eye. I need to request that my mom gets me that. I think it's my Grail.
Monday, October 23, 2006
The Life of the Party
For probably my whole life I’ve noticed that all the kids at a wedding reception naturally gravitate together into the Kid Brigade. I’m sure I was part of it when I was little. But it’s entirely different when it’s your own son that’s trying to join up.
Sitting in the ultra swank theater on Saturday evening, trying to keep Kirk from falling off the intricately leveled platforms containing becandled tables, I realized that he was always aiming in the same direction. I helped him down to the main floor and he was off—-directly towards the other kids. It was so cute watching them all. Some were dancing like Kirk by bending their knees and bouncing up and down. The slightly older little girls were doing more interpretive moves, spinning, holding their arms out, and the like. They were bumping against each other in their little stumbling routes, just like a mini-mosh pit. Frackin’ adorable.
Chatting with several of the moms, I discovered that although a couple also had 15-month-olds, they didn’t think they’d be able to handle the wedding and so left them with sitters. There were lots of younger babies around being passed between aunties and cousins. And there were plenty of kids in the 18-24 month range. So what it is about 15 months that makes them bad wedding attendees? I thought Kirk did great! Mr. b and his buddy had great fun tagging along after him as he wandered around the floor, weaving in and around legs, pausing to explore under the stage or pet a patent leather shoe.
The only time Kirk had a fit was when I took away his rock candy coffee stirrer. Pure sugar. He did not need that. Especially not after sharing my piece of cake. He was pissed. It was pretty funny.
Sitting in the ultra swank theater on Saturday evening, trying to keep Kirk from falling off the intricately leveled platforms containing becandled tables, I realized that he was always aiming in the same direction. I helped him down to the main floor and he was off—-directly towards the other kids. It was so cute watching them all. Some were dancing like Kirk by bending their knees and bouncing up and down. The slightly older little girls were doing more interpretive moves, spinning, holding their arms out, and the like. They were bumping against each other in their little stumbling routes, just like a mini-mosh pit. Frackin’ adorable.
Chatting with several of the moms, I discovered that although a couple also had 15-month-olds, they didn’t think they’d be able to handle the wedding and so left them with sitters. There were lots of younger babies around being passed between aunties and cousins. And there were plenty of kids in the 18-24 month range. So what it is about 15 months that makes them bad wedding attendees? I thought Kirk did great! Mr. b and his buddy had great fun tagging along after him as he wandered around the floor, weaving in and around legs, pausing to explore under the stage or pet a patent leather shoe.
The only time Kirk had a fit was when I took away his rock candy coffee stirrer. Pure sugar. He did not need that. Especially not after sharing my piece of cake. He was pissed. It was pretty funny.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Baa Baa Black Sheep Shut Up!
Kirk has undergone a pretty major developmental leap. He gets stuff. Things that before were trial and error he now does intentionally. He remembers things previously shown to him. He reacts to things.
It's making playing with him so much fun. He is starting to put the shapes in the shape sorter now and not just shaking the pieces out as violently as possible. He likes putting anything that fits--or doesn't fit--into the Pound-a-Ball and watching it travel through. He high-fives. He puts his brush to his head to try to do his hair.
I was reading books to him last night. I always like to try to connect real examples of things that we see on the page. So if we see a piggie, then I'll spin the See 'n Say to the piggie. We were reading Hop on Pop and I gave him a red ball for Ball Ball We All Play Ball. I pointed to the kitty when Pat Sat on the Cat. No Pat No! Don't Sit on That! (A cactus.) Kirk gasped! It was so adorable.
The problem is that he also figured out how to get Baby Tad to actually play songs on purpose and not just because he accidentally hit the right button. And he was doing this for over an hour last night starting at about 1:45am. As soon as it would get quiet, and I'd get my hopes up that he fell back to sleep, "Hickory, Dickory, Dock" would start up again. Yet I was also overcome with pride at one point when I could hear him clapping along to "If You're Happy and You Know It". All this was alternating with crying. I gave up at about 3 and brought him into bed with us.
Mr. b says that he knew Kirk was going to be up in the middle of the night before we went to bed. Both of us are in the habit of peeking in on the boy before we go to sleep. Normally he's in complete disarray in his crib. Last night he was still in virtually the same position as when I put him down. His blanket was even mostly on him. Mr. b has noticed that when he's not restless right away, it comes in the middle of the night. I'm not sure how the knowledge of this pattern is going to help us. I suppose just so we're prepared for a shitty night's sleep.
It's making playing with him so much fun. He is starting to put the shapes in the shape sorter now and not just shaking the pieces out as violently as possible. He likes putting anything that fits--or doesn't fit--into the Pound-a-Ball and watching it travel through. He high-fives. He puts his brush to his head to try to do his hair.
I was reading books to him last night. I always like to try to connect real examples of things that we see on the page. So if we see a piggie, then I'll spin the See 'n Say to the piggie. We were reading Hop on Pop and I gave him a red ball for Ball Ball We All Play Ball. I pointed to the kitty when Pat Sat on the Cat. No Pat No! Don't Sit on That! (A cactus.) Kirk gasped! It was so adorable.
The problem is that he also figured out how to get Baby Tad to actually play songs on purpose and not just because he accidentally hit the right button. And he was doing this for over an hour last night starting at about 1:45am. As soon as it would get quiet, and I'd get my hopes up that he fell back to sleep, "Hickory, Dickory, Dock" would start up again. Yet I was also overcome with pride at one point when I could hear him clapping along to "If You're Happy and You Know It". All this was alternating with crying. I gave up at about 3 and brought him into bed with us.
Mr. b says that he knew Kirk was going to be up in the middle of the night before we went to bed. Both of us are in the habit of peeking in on the boy before we go to sleep. Normally he's in complete disarray in his crib. Last night he was still in virtually the same position as when I put him down. His blanket was even mostly on him. Mr. b has noticed that when he's not restless right away, it comes in the middle of the night. I'm not sure how the knowledge of this pattern is going to help us. I suppose just so we're prepared for a shitty night's sleep.
Monday, October 16, 2006
What's the sign for "naughty"?
At his last check-up, Doc asked if Kirk was having tantrums yet. We didn't really know how to react to that question. Is he supposed to be? Are we just lucky that he isn't? Is that what our near future holds? It just seemed so soon to be worrying about tantrums. He's too young for that, right? The sign language is supposed to help mitigate that, right?
Kirk's a very mild mannered young man. But he's crossed the line now into true toddler. Because he was indeed throwing tantrums yesterday. I was baking cookies for my office potluck lunch. Kirk has never liked it when either of us are busy in the kitchen and not paying attention to him. But Mr. b was home so I figured he'd just be hanging with Daddy. Nope. He was underfoot the whole time I was mixing and baking. If I'd been wearing an apron, the cliché would have been true. It was unbelievable. When he's older I'll let him help me but 15 months is still too little. I picked him up in between ingredients and showed him the bowl. I let him play with the measuring spoons and cups when I was done with them. But none of it really helped. He was mad. And he started screaming.
It was sort of fascinating/hilarious to watch him get so bent. He was crying but there were no tears. He'd sort of bounce while whining. Putting him in his chair to supervise the action was only a temporary solution. I actually yelled at him at one point, which cracked Mr. b up. I even put him in his crib as a time-out. The tantrums didn't stop until I finished the last batch.
And I don't think that the lack of communication had anything to do with it. I knew exactly what he wanted: Mommy. A few weeks ago he came up with his own sign for "up" which is cupping his hands together at the wrist (similar to the Ferengi posture of penance). I know what that means. I just couldn't make good on his request. I needed both hands.
But I do find it interesting that he's come up with his own sign. We never used anything for "up". I keep trying to integrate more and more signs into my regular speaking. I'm a language junkie anyway so it's a good excuse for me to learn. Sometimes I feel like Kirk thinks that the signs are his own private language with me because I use them so much more. I know that K does some at daycare and Mr. b certainly does some. But I also see subtle distinctions in Kirk's signing--like his difference between "milk" and the catch-all that he does, basically "want" or "gimme"--that don't seem to be apparent to anyone else. Maybe that's due to my inate language talent and maybe it's just wishful thinking.
Kirk's a very mild mannered young man. But he's crossed the line now into true toddler. Because he was indeed throwing tantrums yesterday. I was baking cookies for my office potluck lunch. Kirk has never liked it when either of us are busy in the kitchen and not paying attention to him. But Mr. b was home so I figured he'd just be hanging with Daddy. Nope. He was underfoot the whole time I was mixing and baking. If I'd been wearing an apron, the cliché would have been true. It was unbelievable. When he's older I'll let him help me but 15 months is still too little. I picked him up in between ingredients and showed him the bowl. I let him play with the measuring spoons and cups when I was done with them. But none of it really helped. He was mad. And he started screaming.
It was sort of fascinating/hilarious to watch him get so bent. He was crying but there were no tears. He'd sort of bounce while whining. Putting him in his chair to supervise the action was only a temporary solution. I actually yelled at him at one point, which cracked Mr. b up. I even put him in his crib as a time-out. The tantrums didn't stop until I finished the last batch.
And I don't think that the lack of communication had anything to do with it. I knew exactly what he wanted: Mommy. A few weeks ago he came up with his own sign for "up" which is cupping his hands together at the wrist (similar to the Ferengi posture of penance). I know what that means. I just couldn't make good on his request. I needed both hands.
But I do find it interesting that he's come up with his own sign. We never used anything for "up". I keep trying to integrate more and more signs into my regular speaking. I'm a language junkie anyway so it's a good excuse for me to learn. Sometimes I feel like Kirk thinks that the signs are his own private language with me because I use them so much more. I know that K does some at daycare and Mr. b certainly does some. But I also see subtle distinctions in Kirk's signing--like his difference between "milk" and the catch-all that he does, basically "want" or "gimme"--that don't seem to be apparent to anyone else. Maybe that's due to my inate language talent and maybe it's just wishful thinking.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Eddi and the Fey
Back in January I described two kinds of familiarity felt while encountering pop culture with which I was more personally acquainted with the subject matter than the average bear. I just encountered a third. I read the novel War for the Oaks, by Emma Bull, on the repeated recommendation of my aunt and the coincedental recommendation of morrigan. It was astounding. The basic plot revolves around a Faerie War and their need for a mortal to be involved. Said mortal is Eddi McCandry, a guitar chick in a go-nowhere cover band. That right there would be enough to suck me in! Oh but this Faerie War is being fought in and around Minneapolis.
Every conflict between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts takes place in a location I know. Peavey Plaza? Among other things, Mr. b asked me to marry him there. Minnehaha Falls? Among other things, ahem, Mr. b threw a surprise birthday picnic for me there. Como Conservatory? Among other things, site of Jon's first wedding. And it wasn't just the major places either. The basic geography is perfectly accurate. When Eddi ran down Nicollet, I could envision every single block. When neighborhoods were mentioned, I knew exactly where they were and how they were laid out. It was fascinating and slightly distracting. I would find myself taken outside of the very exciting and engrossing story until I could mentally picture the setting, and then go back in.
On top of the visceral familiarity with the locale, this book was written in the late 80s. That meant that I was sometimes revising. The New Riverside Cafe has been closed for several years--but Mr. b just played a show at the 400 Bar so I was down that street mere weekends ago! Seven-Elevens no longer exist. Run-down warehouses have been replaced by gentrifying condos. But that kind of mental exercise was actually quite fun!
The 80s setting also meant that there was some removal from the Minneapolis music scene--when dealing with bands as opposed to the Fey Folk that is!--that I'm getting to know again currently and was so ensconced in the 90s. And yet, some things never change. The decor at First Ave being one! And who hasn't met Curtiss A?
I intend to demand that everyone I know in town that is in some way involved with bands read this book. If they're a fan of fantasy, too, so much the better. But the setting itself is trippy enough! The great story is just the icing.
Every conflict between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts takes place in a location I know. Peavey Plaza? Among other things, Mr. b asked me to marry him there. Minnehaha Falls? Among other things, ahem, Mr. b threw a surprise birthday picnic for me there. Como Conservatory? Among other things, site of Jon's first wedding. And it wasn't just the major places either. The basic geography is perfectly accurate. When Eddi ran down Nicollet, I could envision every single block. When neighborhoods were mentioned, I knew exactly where they were and how they were laid out. It was fascinating and slightly distracting. I would find myself taken outside of the very exciting and engrossing story until I could mentally picture the setting, and then go back in.
On top of the visceral familiarity with the locale, this book was written in the late 80s. That meant that I was sometimes revising. The New Riverside Cafe has been closed for several years--but Mr. b just played a show at the 400 Bar so I was down that street mere weekends ago! Seven-Elevens no longer exist. Run-down warehouses have been replaced by gentrifying condos. But that kind of mental exercise was actually quite fun!
The 80s setting also meant that there was some removal from the Minneapolis music scene--when dealing with bands as opposed to the Fey Folk that is!--that I'm getting to know again currently and was so ensconced in the 90s. And yet, some things never change. The decor at First Ave being one! And who hasn't met Curtiss A?
I intend to demand that everyone I know in town that is in some way involved with bands read this book. If they're a fan of fantasy, too, so much the better. But the setting itself is trippy enough! The great story is just the icing.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Reasons Why I’m a Bad Mom
I scratched Kirk’s nose this morning. Of course, he didn’t notice at all, but every time I looked over at him I felt sick about it. I’m so glad that his medicine is nearly at an end so I won’t have to struggle with him about it anymore (until the next time). I’ve nicked his nose before; my nails just grow long! I don’t do it on purpose! Well, as K reminded me this morning when I dropped the boy off, if that’s the worst that I do to him, it’s really no big deal.
I am still just not prepared for winter. We’ve been slowly collecting some long-sleeved shirts for Kirk thanks to Mr. b picking up cute ones when he finds them on clearance. But I don’t have any warm jammies or long-sleeved onesies or a new hat or gloves. I went to put Kirk’s little hipster suit jacket on him this morning and realized it was far too light-weight for the premature dose of cold we’re having. Thank the Lords of Kobol for Diablo and Jon! They got him a bunch of size 2T clothes for his birthday and apologized for them being too big. But the lined Fall jacket is just what I put on the boy this morning! Sure the sleeves are rolled up and yeah it’s big but hey, he looks like Oasis in the 90s (minus the faux-fur on his hood) and that’s fine by me.
I hate balancing the checkbook. Despise it. I’ve been the money manager for well over 13 years now and I want to quit. I store up receipts for two weeks before I enter them into the register. I rarely even get receipts from Mr. b. I get so frustrated by the mess when I do get around to the accounting that I don’t do it for another two weeks. I just can’t break that cycle. I let us spend too much between paychecks. I don’t follow a budget. I hardly ever put money into savings. I let myself get behind on utilities so that actual creditors get paid on time. The utilities portion caught up to me this month. I let too many rolling lates pile up and now I had to make payment arrangements to avoid disconnection. Disconnection notices! What am I, 23? That’s ridiculous. We are not poor. Sure, we are usually very strapped. But we can eliminate excess. We are just so lazy and undisciplined. Netflix is not "a necessity". I could draft an official weekly meal menu before grocery shopping and only buy sale items. I could demand that Mr. b only use tip money for his smokes and booze. I could refuse to be talked in to going out to eat more than once a week. And yet I don’t do any of it. How is that a good example for the boy? Disconnection! Gah!
I am still just not prepared for winter. We’ve been slowly collecting some long-sleeved shirts for Kirk thanks to Mr. b picking up cute ones when he finds them on clearance. But I don’t have any warm jammies or long-sleeved onesies or a new hat or gloves. I went to put Kirk’s little hipster suit jacket on him this morning and realized it was far too light-weight for the premature dose of cold we’re having. Thank the Lords of Kobol for Diablo and Jon! They got him a bunch of size 2T clothes for his birthday and apologized for them being too big. But the lined Fall jacket is just what I put on the boy this morning! Sure the sleeves are rolled up and yeah it’s big but hey, he looks like Oasis in the 90s (minus the faux-fur on his hood) and that’s fine by me.
I hate balancing the checkbook. Despise it. I’ve been the money manager for well over 13 years now and I want to quit. I store up receipts for two weeks before I enter them into the register. I rarely even get receipts from Mr. b. I get so frustrated by the mess when I do get around to the accounting that I don’t do it for another two weeks. I just can’t break that cycle. I let us spend too much between paychecks. I don’t follow a budget. I hardly ever put money into savings. I let myself get behind on utilities so that actual creditors get paid on time. The utilities portion caught up to me this month. I let too many rolling lates pile up and now I had to make payment arrangements to avoid disconnection. Disconnection notices! What am I, 23? That’s ridiculous. We are not poor. Sure, we are usually very strapped. But we can eliminate excess. We are just so lazy and undisciplined. Netflix is not "a necessity". I could draft an official weekly meal menu before grocery shopping and only buy sale items. I could demand that Mr. b only use tip money for his smokes and booze. I could refuse to be talked in to going out to eat more than once a week. And yet I don’t do any of it. How is that a good example for the boy? Disconnection! Gah!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Catch up
Kirk had his 15th month check up last week. He's awesome. He flatlined in the weight percentage--due to the walking thing burning calories--but continues to be in the 70%-75% for height. Doc also discovered that what we thought was remnants of a cold and teething was in fact an ear infection. Yeah. I rule. So we're finishing up the drugs he got for that. He has now had a throat infection, a nose infection, pink eye, and an ear infection. I think it's time for a break!
Kirk's discovered that he can crouch down to pick things up and then stand back up without using something to pull up on. However, he has not transferred that skill to standing up in the middle of the floor from a sitting position.
I made curtains for Kirk's room. Naturally his is "that room", the one that is always colder than the rest of the house. Curtains instead of blinds should provide some insulation. We're also going to get a larger area rug for his floor. And Mr. b is going to toss some insulation along the ceiling in the laundry room below since that's the only basement room without a finished ceiling. Hopefully the rest of this project won't take as long as the curtain portion. I've been meaning to make then for well over a year. Last winter Kirk was fine since he was still little enough to put in a sleep sack. Now he just kicks off his blankies. We're back to putting a onesie under his jammies for an extra layer.
Kirk's discovered that he can crouch down to pick things up and then stand back up without using something to pull up on. However, he has not transferred that skill to standing up in the middle of the floor from a sitting position.
I made curtains for Kirk's room. Naturally his is "that room", the one that is always colder than the rest of the house. Curtains instead of blinds should provide some insulation. We're also going to get a larger area rug for his floor. And Mr. b is going to toss some insulation along the ceiling in the laundry room below since that's the only basement room without a finished ceiling. Hopefully the rest of this project won't take as long as the curtain portion. I've been meaning to make then for well over a year. Last winter Kirk was fine since he was still little enough to put in a sleep sack. Now he just kicks off his blankies. We're back to putting a onesie under his jammies for an extra layer.
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