a papery sugary mess

First, I must sheepishly tell you that I cannot find the camera (NOT
GOOD) so Baby Tuesday will be postponed until I find it. I'm not
freaking out yet, because the house is a mess and when I clean it, I'm hopeful that I will find it then.

In the meantime, I have a commentary on Valentines Day.

I offer the question, who is Valentines Day for?

Obviously the real rational answer is corporations that sell Valentines crap. But let's discuss beyond that.

People who are single think it's for people who have "companions."

But when you're dating someone, there's this fear of doing anything special for Feb 14th.
Like, you might as well be proposing marriage if you acknowledge the
day to a woman.
I will say if you are dating a man, V day is a test of the man's creative and planning skills.
My husband has struck out as many times as he's hit the ball, and I do remember getting really mad at him on 2/14/04 when he did not propose nor did he plan anything at all. Like he was doing so out of spite!
I remember a telephoned exchange of words like this:
"...Well what do you want?"
"Something big and shiny!!..."

Back to the single people. V Day makes single people really bitter. As if us occupied people spend the day dancing happy jigs and kissing in public.
We don't.
Some bitter women felt so oppressed by Hallmark and Whitman's Chocolates that they wrote the Vagina Monologues and perform it nationwide on Feb 14th. Geesh, who needs that?

Now married couples. I'm sure there are those couples out there that are really cute and fun and plan great exciting events for themselves every year.
But here's the problem, husbands as a whole think Valentines Day sucks. They love their wives, but they hate the obligation.
Women love it. I mean even I love flowers and not cooking, the color red,
hearts, etc. But I know that my husband is dragging his heels at the
whole concept, so what's the point?
It's like when your mom forces you to say sorry and hug your brother.

Now, children and Valentines Day. We all made our shoeboxes in school covered them with foil and pink copy paper hearts and democratically gave a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle card to everyone one in the class. Even the boy with psoriasis and the boy that never stopped picking his nose.
That's what you had to do. I remember reading the messages on my cards before cramming them in the little Zig-Zag envelopes and thinking "I don't love Michael Fadner. I don't even think Eizabeth Brinkley is sweet. So why do I let the Turtles tell them I do?"
And let's face it, we didn't care who put cards in our shoeboxes unless they were a) sparkley b) had a sticker c) had candy. Candy is the bottom line for kids and V Day. We didn't care about love....Okay, I'll admit it, I was an overly fantastical little girl and I secretly hoped the little boys in my classes were in love with me. But I'm sure I'm the exception. And more important to my point is, no little boys love little girls.
That's a fact, you can look it up.

And can we talk about the stuffed animal thing?
The rest of the year, do grown women want stuffed animals?
No.
So why do they sell them and make men think that we do?
People, unless your "sweetheart" is under the age of 12, no plush bears please.

So again I ask who is Valentines Day for?
By my calculations, it is for the small percentage of dating couples who have been dating a short time but not so short that they haven't said "I love you."
And for secret admirers.
And florists and chocolatiers.


And cats, apparently.


btw, those in the Golden State will be privy to know that Trader Joes has the coolest and cheapest roses right now. If I didn't think I was going to get in trouble for buying them for myself, I would have bought them for myself.

an awful big snip of snail

This is the first time since big-sick-thursday that I've had a chance to post, my apologies.
Here's a nugget of advice to baby parents out there who might be naive like us:
If your baby barfs, even if she doesn't seem sick otherwise, don't share food with her for like, a week.
Because man that bug's bug hit me hard and Mr T even harder. So much so that Grandma Sue had to rescue us and watch the baby for the day.
Then Sandi had to play the role of Kevin at the sonogram appointment.
It was exactly 4 weeks before Baby R is to be born and how- big- is- he-?!
7.5 lbs

Yes, I'm carrying around a baby the size of a full term-er and he's all set n' ready to go. The sono guy said "he has not missed a meal."

Lest you think otherwise, it does feel like he's big. And like it's the end of the road. But his sister fooled me before and the next thing I knew I was way past due and jumping on a mattress to evict her from her little apartment.

The images were very clear, his face, his toes, his hair. I feel proud, like one of those farmers that bring the pumpkins to the fair. Pin a ribbon on this fetus! He's a prize-winner, he is.

Baby Tuesday

We have a stove, people!
We used it for the first time last night.
Okay, Kevin used it. I was very very tired by the time he hooked it up and the baby went to bed.
It's very...flamey.


"Whadya say?" "Don't poke you with the sticks?"


We had to burn a little energy before a meeting at church. A non-kid-friendly meeting in an office with doodads and chachskis everywhere for her to grab and drool on. It's alot to ask from a 16 month old, to be good and quiet and still for an hour and half. She almost made it to the end, thanks to some strategic snackery.
That will probably be the last meeting I can pull off for a long while, seeing that the next one is scheduled after the due date and two babies in a meeting is right out.


Again, with the sticks (plum tree switches).

a model "pull it together" issue

This baby's room is so far from being done, I need to just get that off my chest.

It's not painted.
There is still a pile of drums without a drumshield in the corner.
The curtains aren't sewn yet.
There's a random mattress without a frame on the floor.
My bills are all over the floor.
The baby swing is flipped upside down on the carpet like a fallen cockroach.
And the computer is still in here on top of his tiny tiny dresser.

It looks like FBI agents raided this room looking for evidence.

He has no closet to speak of because it happens to be our server closet. There's a clothes bar and one shelf that he gets.

I feel bad. With Baby C, a month before she was due, the whole room was together.

But I'm tired and big.
And unfortunately, it's all up to me
in the hours when a certain bug isn't awake.

[pout]

never have I been so picky UPDATED

Soon I will be a mother of two, and for the time being, or at least until the stretch marks fade, I've decided I should get a one piece swimsuit.
(yes I know it's February, but I'm already planning summer vacation)

The last time I wore a one-piece was in 8th grade. And even though I was 13, it was still too short for me. 'Like wearing suspenders that are too tight. Not comfy.

When the "tankini" came out, I wanted one. But once I tried them on, I realized it might as well be a bikini because the two pieces were miles away from one another.

So since then, no matter how much I didn't want people to see that much of me, it was either wear my clothes in the pool or wear bikinis.

But like I said, now I gotta figure something out. And I have discovered that swimwear does come in "long torso." Check. (Though that term sounds like a symptom of a genetic defect or something.)

So I searched for long suits, and what do I find?
They come in two styles:


flowery behemoth

or


go Team USA

Or sometimes I'll find one I like and find out that's it only comes in plus size.
Like this one! Why can't I have this one in anything smaller than an 18W?


I pout.
And then I think "maybe I can tailor it" and then see the price is $89.00. I can't think of a time I spent 89 bucks on any piece of clothing. My max is $45.00 people!


So let's review my criteria:

1. Long
2. Not big bad flowery
3. Not sporty spice
4. Less than $50
5. Sized somewhere between 8 and 14


The outlook is bleak. Good thing I have 5 more months.


UPDATE:

Thank you for everyone's help. I did check out LandsEnd but there wasn't one I was so happy with that I'd buy without trying it on. But lo and behold Spiegel still exists! Did you know that? I didn't.
I found one that met all but one requirement for me, and bought it...in February.


There, that doesn't look like a mom-suit does it?
30 bucks.

it really exists

I'm usually careful to say flatly "I like country music" because there is alot of terrible terrible country music out there. And most of it is "popular" so when I say I like country, I only like a certain slice of it. (I have similiar sentiment for dogs and children, actually)

And until I visited Big D last month, I didn't know that others enjoyed this specific category and that there is actually a radio station dedicated to it.

They call it "Hard Country" I'll use that term from now on.

Here's a sample of what they play:
Jeffrey Foucault: Ghost Repeater
Randy Rogers: Kiss Me in The Dark
Johnny Cash: God's Gonna Cut You Down
Radny Foster: Half of My Mistake
The Elms: Black Peach
Solomon Burke: Aint Got You
Pat Green: Way Back Texas
Ray Wylie Hubbard: Rabbit
Todd Snider: Looking for A Job

They throw in a little old school soul, a little underground christian and a dash of Johnny Cash. I'm smitten.

Baby Tuesday

Okay, sorry this is totally late! If Sam hadn't said something this may have turned into Baby Wednesday.


You know the baby is speedy, when I have the camera in "action" mode, and she's still blurry.


Now Sam's the blurry one. Draw your own conclusions.


I don't know what this look is all about. Very Captain of the S.S. Sassy.


Pacifier keep away! If I had held onto it any longer, she would have stopped thinking it fun, and started getting frantic.
We have totally weened her off bottles, but the pacifier is a trickier maneuver. It's gonna come down to one day they are all just going to be gone. And since she won't talk, we'll just act like we can't understand her.


This photo was included to show the cat licking (again!). There are few things that make me lose it more than the sound and sight of pets licking.
And this cat of ours, oh- my- goodness-, the volume of her licking defies physics! She has a tiny tiny tongue in a tiny tiny mouth, but she sounds like a farm cow on a salt lick!
I will stop whatever I'm doing to throw something at her to make her stop.
The dogs occasionally make licking noises, but they've learned to go elsewhere or I yell at them. That's my creed: "lick elsewhere!"

(The combination of the licky-noise and Mojito's inabilty to control his short-man-rage is why the dogs don't get rawhide or any chewy things. Yech!)

let it be known

There was a Ransom Thayer who was born in 1812 and lived in Windham, Vermont. He was married and had 5 children.

also

There was a Ransom Thayer who was born 1839 in Cayuga County, New York, and died November 21, 1919 in California. He married Ellen M. Fuller and they had 6 children.

and

I found the following in a book called THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY
(whatever that means)
By Scout Master Robert Shaler

The young man, Ransom Thayer, is willing to come to us on one
condition. He has been technically trained, and he insists upon
strict attention to the matter in hand and strict school discipline
in return for his services. He has arranged a schedule of hours
both for camp study and recitation and for practice in surveying,
and has left ample time, also, for recreation, such as swimming and
ball-playing.

blue skies smiling at me

[[[Trumpets]]]]

You can fly directly to and from Dallas from San Jose! Woo!

And you just can't beat $219, people.


Also, as I was planning possible trip destinations for Mr. T's big 3-0 this year,
I discovered that it's more expensive to spend the weekend in Tijuana



than it is in Hawaii.



Hello! Tough choice, but I'm gonna have to go with Hawaii.

just an example

First off, I'd like to admit to everyone that I don't think I'm a very good graphic designer. I've met good ones, and they're not like me.

However, I think I have an average amount of talent that comes from a B.A. And I do occasionally design things for various people and purposes. And I am constantly reminded (aside fromthe times when I do the business cards for friends) of why I could never do this for a living.
I first learned this concept when I was interning as a designer in high school.

Bad design often triumphs over good, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Here's a recent example:

Yesterday I go an email request to do a design for a church program that I don't entirely understand. Vague names were dropped, something about a firm and "could you do another design for us? By this afternoon?"

Here's what they attached in the email, that they were unhappy with-


I emailed them back and said I'd work on it until the baby woke up, which turned out to be about 20 minutes and this is what I sent back to them (I'm not crazy about it, but it wasn't horrible either)-


I didn't really understand what the whole thing was about, so I didn't get to emotionally involved with it. I believe the "Impact" title is what they are calling a new wave of asking for funds to demolish our existing church building after the new one is built. And I guess somehow we're going to impact people by doing so? It's hazey.
All I knew is that the first design looked like a default powerpoint background and WordArt you might find in a ill-begotten employee training seminar. It didn't really say "we are the body of Christ here stirving to love our community better."

And which did they go with?

The first one, of course.

He (a man I've never met) said everyone really liked mine but they went the other one for reasons I could request from him if I wanted to. I don't want to know. I'll just get depressed about it.

I just hope all the people that see this marketing tool are hard core left brainers so they don't get creeped out by the corporate-feel.

Oye.

Baby Tuesday

I suppose all babies reach the point of feeling confined by clothes. Baby C does't even want to wear a diaper anymore, but I know if she goes buff longer than 5 minutes, I'll be cleanin' somethin' out of the carpet.
Here, she's modeling her deluxe Canadian cloth diaper covers.
When I bought them, via recommendation of the Berkeley Parents Network, I thought "these better be good for the price!" And yes, they are. Plus, they have sea creatures on them. :)




If you couldn't interpret this, it means "hey lady, I want some food- right here right now."
I put her hair in a tiny samurai pony tail. It's the first time ever that she hasn't pulled it out.

not like I didn't already know

One tip of very few that I have...

For those of you out there who have leg-lifting dogs like we do, and smell pee in a general way but can't quite place it:

Get a handheld blacklight,


turn the lights off,

and if you're unlucky like us, your house will look like a crime scene.


They were so busted!
The blacklight tells all.

I leave town and the dogs lose their minds while I'm done and pee up the joint.

I'm considering putting cloth diapers on them during the day when they roam the house.

media nuggets

(usually Kevin is the great anti-commerical sheriff in our house. I made him stop to see this one the other night.)

And credit goes to Aurora for this comparison. Everytime I watch the Today show, I laugh thinking of it.

crazy is just a chemical messenger away

This pregnancy has been rather kind to me up to this point.
I'll cry at practically anything sappy, but I hadn't had the other kind of PMS (Pregnant Mental Syndrome).
That is, until now.
These hormones make everything stressful. I don't want to do anything especially if it's productive or healthy. My fuse has been clipped to about 3 millimeters.
I'm like a crazy person.

This afternoon I took a nap and then got in the spa tub and when I got out I was still white knuckled over absolutely nothing.

And I can't get enough chocolate and cola.



I could drink this Whole Foods coke all day long. I limit myself to one a day, and if extreme estrogen emergency arises, I'll drink two.

So I haven't returned your call, your email, your letter, your text message, missed a meeting, etc., now you know why. I'm mental right now, and probably will be until the due date.

(And then after that I will be unavailable due to a different kind of crazy.)

Baby Tuesday

Yep, it's early again. I know how people hate a late B.T., I wouldn't want to ruin anyone's lunch break by not making the noon deadline.

Most of these are from our trip last week in Big D.

I bought this hat for Cricket a few months ago and sewed ribbons to the sides so that I could tie it onto her head. The ribbons only served as a pretty noose when she would pull it upward with all her baby-might. So I brought it with for Scoutie to wear. I tied it on Baby C's head to show how she won't wear it, and what did she do? She kept it on as if she loved it.


Granny G and her grandbabies. :D


That darn pug! I put babydolls to deter Emmitt from laying on Scout's Dora Bed, but he just rolled them over and used them as throw pillows.


Aurora and I found that the cousins were probably pretty close to having twins.
One is on a lap? The other must be on the same lap!
Poor crippled Aurora had to haul the two of them around in her wheelchair in the name of equality.



Another hat-spotting- this time back home in Sockswithsandalsland. I put in on her head and she took off into the kitchen. It came off shortly after.

Psalm 17:6

The bug and I flew back yesterday afternoon.

[[Bu-bum!]]

It started out with me breaking down in tears at the ticket counter after we got a TSA boy scout who was going to deny me my flight because my maiden name on my passport didn't match my ticket.
I lost my driver's license somewhere in the DFW airport when I arrived, and I'd bet $100 that the baby pulled it out and dropped it while I was carrying her and my carry-on.

My mom demanded satisfaction (yes, my mom is still fighting my battles for me ;) ) and begrudgingly, after much conversation about police reports and federal requirements, he gave me a boarding pass that matched my ID. If my mom hadn't been there I was desperate enough to buy an entirely new non-stop ticket just to be able to get my big pregnant self and my toddler back home.

Still in tears, we go to the overly-complicated security checkpoint, baby and I.
The whole baby bottle thing- oy!
As I have my 1) baby 2) carry-on 3) baby bottles in plastic bags 4)blankie and doggie 5) both our shoes and 6) red wagon all separated into plastic bins (with exception to the baby), two (obviously single) business men cut in front of me at the X-ray machine. As in, just as I'm scowling at the back of one guy's head, the next one gets right behind him. I was a hair away from losing it and screaming "look at me! look at me! could I get a break?!" at them. Instead I just cried a little more, made it through and reassembled myself on the other side.

There was a nice man at my gate offered to pull the wagon down to the checkpoint for me (thank you stranger) right before I found out it was a full fight and I had a middle seat. As I sat down with a college age girl on my left, a stoic business man on my right, and a squirming kicking baby (required to be) on my lap, I said a little prayer for help.
Less than 60 seconds later, a flight attendant comes by and says something quietly to the man on my right in the aisle seat, he picks up his bag and leaves. Since they said it was a full flight, I thought for sure he'd be coming back. But instead, the flight attendant, a.k.a. angel of mercy, says "I tell them it's for their comfort to sit away from a baby. And there, now she can have her own seat!"
I think I heard a choir sing.

And! The baby was mostly happy on the flight. That had never happened before. She only screamed when we descended and then fell asleep once her ears pressurized.

We arrive in Denver knowing that we had a 3 hour layover. 30 minutes into it, I realize this idea was exhausting, chasing after her with all of our stuff.
So I checked the boards looking for a earlier flight to SFO. Sure enough, one was leaving an hour before ours.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not a finagler. I was going to ask the person at gate A24, and if she said no, that would be the end of it.
"Hi, heh. Um, so I am, err we, are supposed to leave on the 6:00 flight--"
"Wait one moment, she can help you" [points to another woman]
"Oh right okay. Hi, so we're supposed to have a later flight to San Francisco and it's a REALLY long layover and I was wondering if maybe we could switch to this flight? Is it really full?"
"No. Do you have your boarding pass?"
"yes."
And could I get an aisle seat...preferrably with an empty seat next to it?"
"Do you mind sitting in the back?"
"no."
"How about I give you a whole aisle in the back?"

And there was the choir again.

Man, I was so- thankful. So so so thankful.

There you are ladies and gentleman, a direct answer to prayer. It happens.

Baby Tuesday- early edition

I won't be able to post on Tue, probably. Logicistical difficulties.
So while I have access, I'm doin' it.

We're in Tejas. The bug is confused, but mall playgrounds and pacifiers are helping. She's suspicious that I'm gonna leave her here.
The flight here was full of crying, of course, but we survived.
Even though she'll be so glad to be home, I'll bet money that she'll go through the same routine on the flight back.
Oy.




This is our visit to the best mall baby-play area I have ever seen. Giant food! It was all squishy and vinyl-y, the babies loved it!  

. 

Baby C, sunny side up. 

. 

Only because she didn't know the barrette was in her hair, did she leave it in there. I relished every moment of the "whale tail." 

"One for you, one for you, one for you, one for you. Hey, no grabbing- don't touch her- stand right there..." 

She likes to poke eyes, no pet is safe. 

No pacifier? I got a finger. 

Baby Tuesday

The baby's got a cold today. It's not that bad of a cold, but as you can see, she looks pretty pitiful. Tomorrow we fly. I'm tired already. 

I googled "how to fly with a baby" and found this article diappointing. It's one big "duh" after another.
This one was a little better.