No, I'm hip because I know people with style.

I may not look stylish 95% of the time, but I do know people who are incredibly fashionable. I do know when things are stylish and should have a Fashion Police badge, I just can't seem to get it together. An excellent example of "Do as I say not as I do."

My sister-in-law Meredith looks good all the time, and she is also crafty and funny. Best part, she writes The Lovely Owl, and shares her good taste and good humor with everyone.

Get yourself there quick, she is doing a fun give away, but you have to read this post before FRIDAY (that's tomorrow, so scoot!).

Am I not hip since I still want a Kindle? Oh well.

So the iPad has been unveiled. There are commercials and everything. It's pretty cool, but I still think I really want a Kindle.

I suppose that the sexy touchscreen would be fun, and having what is essentially a little laptop would be awesome. The color screen is indeed pretty. But no. I really REALLY want the Kindle.

I have been reading a lot lately. Ok, "a lot" for me given the babes to constantly cuddle. I've also started cleaning out my bookcases, and have discovered that I really don't need to hang on to so many of the paperbacks I have enjoyed over time. Sure, I might read something again someday, but I'm not referencing things, generally not passing them along to others, and not finding better storage. I tend to read, shelf, and eventually donate a LOT of paper.

The concept of digital books, therefore, fits right on into my world beautifully. I love the idea of toting around a smallish device and being able to read books, blogs, papers, whatever. Oh, and I love the samples, the mobile downloads, and the storage. I love that all these books sync with your iPod/iPhone and that you can get classics for free. Love all these things, which are essentially equal on all these devices.

The Kindle has me won, though, and here are the reasons why:

1. I love that screen. When I played with my sister-in-law's Kindle, I was amazed with how easy it was to read that non-lit screen. Sunshine? Sure! Pictures? Great in black and white. It is really cool, really easy on the eyes, and much mote like reading a book than a computer screen. I have not seen the iPad in person, but reading on the iPod touch is a little hard. Oh, and forget about it in the sunshine.

2. Eventually, I am sure I will get an iPhone. My future iPhone will do just about everything the iPad will do, and I won't want to tote around two similar devices. Or pay for monthly service for both, which brings me to...

3. The Kindle's upfront price includes the mobile access to downloads and updates in 3G. I love this. I think spending the $250- $500 is worth it, just to have both the hardware and the connection all at once. Not adding another monthly bill to my life = super-big plus.

Don't get me wrong. I'm an Apple lady. I am writing this on the iPod we got for our two-year-old. I love this thing, which makes me believe that the iPad will be awesome for those who want a "laptop light" to tote around. But I have an iBook. I want a reading machine so I can have fewer silverfish in my life, and read the rest of the three very cool books I have thusfar previewed.

I love that reading is back on my life, and can't wait to get cracking. Now, I just need that Kindle...


Sent from Henry's iPod

Small victory

That dude who walks across my yard every day around 4:30pm, remember him? He took the sidewalk today. I'd like to think it's because I walked outside and fully busted him last week (I just looked puzzled and said, "Um, hello?"), but it's probably because it's raining. No one wants to walk across wet grass/leaves. I have not been stoked about this very cold, very heavy rain all day today, but right now I love it.

Food issues.

I have been reading again, which is awesome. My current book is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life. I've also recently read Food Rules: An Eater's Manual. Between the two, I'm settling in on a new way of looking at food, and hoping it will help bring more love to our table and a little less bulk to my behind.

I think I learned many of the lessons in those pages long ago, but have managed to put many of them aside. Eating "cheap" and "convenient" has, over time, warped my tastebuds and my perceptions of how one should enjoy food, and I am really looking forward to getting back to basics, back to local, back to a more sustainable food life. Lest you think I grew up eating only local and natural, let me clarify: this food business racket had me from the beginning. Those packaged solutions to dilemmas have been around for a long time, and I am definitely in the crowd of those who have been taken (even though I have tried to resist, at least from time to time, on certain points anyway).

Getting back to basics is something I had been working on while I was nursing Toby, since I could eat no soy, and the soy industry has managed to get itself a little piece of about 80% of the processed foods, both organic and conventional. Rather than truly finding a peaceful, process-free zone, however, I craved what I could not have and found the few processed items I could eat, and ate them up like crazy.

This spring it's time for rebirth. We're planting a garden, a really awesome garden, that will hopefully give us many of our veggies. We are making a plan to shop the farmer's markets, and plan food around ingredients rather than buy the ingredients around our meal plans. We will eat local as much as we can, and we will eat in season. We may have to deviate to accommodate Henry's love of fruit, but we will do it as rarely as we can manage. We will eat food, not "edible food-like products," and will make things from scratch.

It will be work, but it will be work that brings life to the house. I can think of nothing better than food prepared with love, so making it a priority will be our new priority.

I'm also giving up coupons. Of course, I will be happy to use them if we happen to find one for something we already use, but there will be none of this shopping-around-the-coupons fr our house anymore. The food industry, together with chemical companies, are a manipulative bunch. The lure of saving a dollar on something I would never otherwise buy has gotten me in the past, and I have a cabinet of cleaners and a pantry with some odd processed food items to prove it. Perhaps one of the best lessons embedded in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is that "cheap food" from industrial sources is a myth. We are paying far more, both in real dollars and in costs to health and community, supporting that low price tag in the store.

I sound a little bit "holier-than-thou" right? OK, more than a little. I know. I'll get back to you after I have tried to convince my 3 year old that fish sticks aren't the best dinner...

Open letter to They Might Be Giants

Dear TMBG,

Your music for kids is great. Henry can't get enough of Here Comes Science right now, and it's pretty amusing to hear him talking about Hydrogen, Helium, Carbon, Nitrogen... you know, all those things on the surface of the sun.

Chances are I would be pulling my hair out in clumps if he were demanding Wee Sing albums on repeat, but your stuff is fun for me too.

I would appreciate a few more CDs, asap.

Even though all three you've made so far are great, we have nearly worn them out listening to them every.single.time. we get into the car. On repeat. Repeat. REPEAT!

No matter how cute and clever and catchy a song may be, it gets old after the 500th time you've played it. In a week.

So please, PLEASE, something new. Consider it a personal favor, from one who loved you way back when you were all about Triangle Man.

Thanks, Virginia

Baking = precision. Or not.

Today is Henry's third birthday, which is awesome. He's adorable, and enjoying everything so far, which included cheesy toast and apples in the living room for breakfast, presents, and a taste of the cupcakes I made for his class.

This taste was a requirement, because I was frankly considering bailing on them altogether and buying something at Publix on the way to school. The baking did not really go my way last night.

The difference between baking and cooking is precision. I used to be really into baking mainly because I loved this attention to detail, nit-picky measurements, clean execution... It was like photography, or cleaning the bathroom. The details matter, and when you do it right, everything looks amazing. There is a sense of accomplishment that is pretty awesome when it all works out, and you get used to scrapping it if it doesn't work out, which can be disappointing, but helps build that high for the good times.

Now I am into cooking, with all of the tweaking and sloppiness that comes along with putting together a flavorful soup or a great roast chicken. Or both, from the same bird. Scrapping together bits of this and that has become fun, and trying to make something out of whatever is lying around the pantry is its own fun challenge. I like recipes, but I also take them with a grain of salt, give or take. I like having people cook at my house, and then stealing the idea of a dish, and making it my own thing. I like that, generally, a minute here or there doesn't make or break dinner, and food is forgiving.

I made these cupcakes from Martha Stewart for Henry today, thinking that they would be a healthier alternative to chocolate buttercream madness. We'll see what the verdict is from the 3 year olds, but I have my doubts. They are glorified muffins. They would be delicious breakfast treats without the icing, which is beyond sweet. Never test a recipe the night before... remember this, self.

So I'm not the Martha Stewart of baking anymore. I'm not the Martha Stewart of anything, although I did make mustaches for the kids and teachers from felt, dowels, and hot glue, and that was something.

I've decided I am more Amy Sedaris. I like entertaining, but not so much precision or fanciness. I like fanciness, but not in an actually-fancy way. Look, just read about it. Her book is like my bible, I use it all. the. time. Seriously. I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence.

So Happy Birthday Henry! Take 2 will be Sunday afternoon, I will make better cupcakes, I promise.

Open Letter to Telephones

Dear telephones,

I hate you.

Sincerely,
Virginia

Where have you been?

I know that one of my resolutions for the "real" New Year was to be better about posting, and I am trying. However, I have to admit that I have been up to other things. Like making the stark (and ugly) wall behind the cabinets in the dining room into a magnetic chalkboard to keep the kids occupied (and near, but out of, the kitchen). Pictures and discussion of this project to come someday soon...

What has been really cool since I got back from my retreat is that I have felt inspired again. I've been reading (finished a whole book and started another, shock-and-surprise!), organizing, and even doing projects. We've rearranged the rooms in the house, creating a playroom, an adult room, a craft space, and a nursery for Toby. I did the chalkboard project from start to finish. I've got several projects in the works, and I am actually finding the time to do them, and to *enjoy* them.

For today, I am taking inventory of these projects that are in the pipeline, the crafty ones I have found online anyway, and thought I would share my these aspirations (and also give myself a great list to reference when I am feeling lost in the shuffle).

Making Felt Play Food. Thanks to Amy S. for passing this great reference along, and making some prototypes to get me inspired! (I found your lost strawberry, by the way. Henry was trying to eat it this morning.)

Learning to Quilt. This picnic blanket looks like an excellent beginner project. And now I hang out with a very clever mama who knows how to properly quilt, so I will be hitting her up for lessons. (Surprise, Meaghan! I forgot to mention that, huh?)

Make this play mail bag. It's awesome.

Make something fun for Toby. This soft counting book is fantastic, and I think Henry might even get into helping Toby learn numbers.

Make my own grocery/gift/tote bags. Very helpful tutorials and patterns can be found here and here. I'm pretty excited, both because these bags will be fairly easy and quick projects I can manage as I get better at sewing AND because they will be very, very cool.

Make something cute for me. I like this little pin jar, and I am going to make it for myself. If it works out, all the seamstresses I know may be getting one as a gift this year. Goodness knows we have plenty of baby food jars around this place!

I have a couple of very *very* cool projects that I am *super* excited about, but I don't want to post about them precisely because they are going to be gifts. That is, they will be gifts if I can get it together before December...

I'm not trying to be judgmental, but...

There are three people that have me completely weirded out. I kind of desperately want to stop them and say, "What the heck?!!" but in two of the three cases, that will definitely never happen, and it's unlikely in the third. So here's my beef:

Case #1: The walking lady

Since I moved to Gainesville almost seven years ago, I constantly see this woman walking around all over town. She is short and slight, always well-dressed in long sleeves, pants, boots, a hat, sunglasses, and a backpack. She is most certainly not homeless. I usually see her on the west side of town, walking around between larger shopping areas. If you are familiar with Gainesville, however, you'll know that walking around the west side of town is unheard of because things are miles and miles apart.

At first I kind of assumed that she had cancer, and was doing a lot of healthy exercising. I have no idea if she DOES have hair, but you can't see it under her hat. She's always kind of smiling, and has a spring in her step, so I always figured she was doing something healthy and positive for herself. Then I started to think that she was anorexic, because she is very, very thin. And when I say I see her walking all the time, I mean all the time. I'd see her at 8am, I'd see her at noon, then run into her again at 5. These sightings are not rare; I'd say I saw her every day when I lived and/or worked out that way, and now see her about every third time I get over there for an errand.

I'm completely nosy, and have no reason to make any of the assumptions about her that I do, but there it is.

Case #2: The walking man

There is a guy who I am a little worried about. Whenever it is above 70 degrees out, I see him walking my neighborhood. He's all dressed in a sweatsuit, hood up, and seems to even be wearing some kind of wrap beneath the sweats (you can see it on his hands to his fingers). When I say "above 70 degrees), I mean middle of the afternoon heat in Gainesville - he's out walking all wrapped up. Again, I suspect anorexia. Or boxing. And again, I want to ask, but never will.

Case #3: Dude walking across my lawn, every damn day

I know that we do not keep our lawn tidy and neat, neat and tidy, and we don't have a fence. I know that we live on a corner lot, which means that cutting across our lawn cuts off the extra 50 feet you have to walk if you go to the corner. But dude, what the heck? You have to notice that we are sitting inside, we have a HUGE WINDOW in the front of our house. Henry and I sit there and watch you every day.

How does one tell a guy walking across your lawn that he is being a jerk? Bret doesn't think it's a big deal, but then he saw the guy do it today, and agreed that it's weird. In this case, I may have to say something, but I have no idea how that conversation will go... any thoughts for me?

My New Year

My 2010 is starting today.

I just got the time to be still and think about what things I want to change in the new year, so my resolutions start now. Or tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow.

I could make very specific goals (I do have a few of those in the back pocket), but I prefer the top two lofty ideas I came up with while I was in my little bubble this weekend.

1. Practice being present.
Yes, this is kind of cheesy, but suck it. I've been ridiculously stressed out, and freaked out, about all the things falling through the cracks, and all the scary possibilities that loom in the potential futures. Anxiety begets anxiety, and it has, quite frankly, paralyzed me in many ways. I could make my resolution getting back into yoga, because the practice of presence was precisely what had me hooked on it years ago, but it's not just yoga. My goal is, in fact, to bring myself into the moment and enjoy the process, rather than just focusing on an end and worrying about getting there.

2. Patience.
I need more of it, pretty much all the time. When Henry was a tiny baby, I remember being more patient than I ever imagined I could be. (I have no idea if I was delusional, or even if I am just remembering it wrong. The chances of either being true are excellent.) I have not found that same well of patience since Toby's birth, and have found myself looking back over a day or a week, wishing I had been more patient and not acted as I did. I'm not yet sure how to remind myself to find patience in the moment, and I'm not getting a tattoo (I love Christine's though).

I figure that by actively incorporating presence and patience into my life, I will also be more attentive and kind, and really enjoy the pure love of my family. I'm also hoping to focus more attention on my life, and do some of the little things for myself and my family that I have been wanting to do for ages. (See back pocket list for details.) It will mean turning off the TV and computer more, buying less, creating more things from scratch, and learning how to incorporate the kids into activities like cooking, cleaning, and gardening. All of this will be good for all of us.

So, Happy New Year to me! I'll let you know how it's going.

And, break!

It is probably painfully obvious from my posts alone, and I assure you that if you had a face to face conversation with me there would be no doubt: I am exhausted.

I have been very up front about the fact that I have found two kids beyond hard to manage, and that I don't get nearly enough sleep to function as a human being. Long-term sleep deprivation screws with you in ways you can't imagine, and I fear I may never get my brain back.

Let me break it down for you: I'm generally a very smart person, and I have my poop in a group. Not perfection, but together. These days, here is the scenario: I walk into the grocery store to buy three things (aluminum foil, kale, and red lentils). We desperately need the aluminum foil and I'm thinking of making soup for dinner. While in the store, I get a cookie for Henry, because that is what we do at the grocery store. I pick up two of the items on the list (the lentils and the kale), but remember that cookie, oops. Apparently the cookie is a third thing in my new world. Not a chance I will think of that real third thing (remember that aluminum foil?) until I am on the way home, thinking about how smart I was to go ahead and go to the store before lunch so that while the kids nap I can bake those sweet potatoes after all since I have... oh wait, the aluminum foil.

This happens thirty times a day. No joke.

So this weekend, I am escaping from life. Call it a mental health leave, or whatever you want. Three nights in a hotel with a big, beautiful bed. No kids. No conversation. No responsibilities. No thinking. No reasoning. N.o.t.h.i.n.g. (Possibly some simple knitting math, but that is IT.)

I used to get a chance to do nothing every now and again. It wasn't for three days in a chunk, it was for a couple of hours here or there when Bret was working and I was home alone. Zone out. Knit. Be still. Read. Think about life or make lists or whatever, just time to myself for a little while. I can't even recall the last time I got to do this - I mean really DO NOTHING - and I am so excited about it.

I love my kids. I love my husband. I love my house.

And I will love it so much more freely when I get back Tuesday.

I'm just a college town kind of person.

I used to think of myself as a city person. A smaller city person, but definitely a city person.

I loved living in DC in college. I never, ever liked New York - it was always too big - even when I was young and spry and down for a party. I liked DC. Now I realize that it wasn't that it was the city, but rather that Georgetown was functionally a college town from which I could access a small city.

I have never been remotely a country person. I love growing food, but I love it in a garden. A farm, far from everything, would just be too much for me to handle. I also don't like livestock much, so the equation would be: me + farm = no way.

Recently I was thinking that I was, shudder, a suburban mom. I mean, I drive my kids around in a minivan. On a recent shopping trip I was gleeful when I realized that we could go to one strip mall, get out of the car one time, and hit three errands in the stroller! Grocery store for kale and garlic, check. Print shop, check. Liquor store, check. (Yes, I take my kids to the liquor store. Would you rather I leave them in the car? We needed whiskey.)

I had almost been sold on the strip mall, and surrendered to the dreaded suburbs, but then I realized: If we just had a few more of the traditional stores downtown, I could stick the kids in the stroller and do the same shopping walking from my house. Which would mean not having to get into the car. Which would be far better than even the strip mall in the suburbs!

I was beside myself with joy - not a suburban mom after all! Sure one strip mall trip worked out, but I was not sold. (And in my defense, it was raining that day. So the walking would have been a bit miserable.)

I like living in Gainesville because we have a downtown. I love living downtown. OK, so not everything is available, and since this is Florida we can't get rid of our cars just yet (blech for sprawl!) however, it is a college town. Biking and walking are normal here, and even if you do have to get in the car sometimes, nothing is really more than 15 minutes away. We get lectures. And shows. And experts in horticulture who are interested in teaching you things. And the University gives the town a center that really can't shift too terribly far, and has to be accessible to bikes and people on foot.

Yay for the college town. It's for me.

Cliford should be on Hoarders!

I have not seen many episodes of Clifford: The Big Red Dog. I am thankful for this, as given the few episodes I have seen, I have found the following things really grate on my last nerve:

1. The music. It is not cute or clever, just repetitive and clangy.

2. The name "Emily Elizabeth." Either name is adorable for a little girl. Neither is appropriate for a double-name because there are just too many syllables here.

3. The whole concept of a "big red dog" annoys me. The thought of a mutant dog, that is both technicolor and as big as a house is just plain creepy.

Now, in order to form these opinions, I did have to watch a few episodes with Henry, who began requesting Clifford once he got a DVD for Christmas. (I should note that said DVD is not living at our house, or even in our county, but does remain in our state, which I find unfortunate.)

Why this visceral reaction?

Clifford is a Hoarder.

He could be featured on A&E. He'd probably qualify for some special show since he has the mutant issues in addition to the compulsive hoarding.

It might be that I have been watching too much Hoarders, and have gotten a bit compulsive about analyzing my own relationship to junk as a result, but I was a little bit taken aback to have a kids' show openly enabling a hoarder.

Let me break it down for you: Clifford is cleaning out his dog house, and has a huge pile of stinky and dirty stuff outside his dog house. (Given Clifford's mutant stature, the pile looks exactly like the mounds of crap that are removed from houses on Hoarders). Every item that gets pulled from the pie brings back memories, and we get to relive several stories through the magic of the television flashback. All that is missing is the expert/therapist introducing the memory with a comment about how "typically objects carry emotional weight for hoarders, and throwing them out makes them fear losing the memory or somehow betraying it." Which is why Clifford decides he can throw nothing away. Emily Elizabeth discovers his stash, and laughs!

Yeah, how many mummified cats do you think are in his pile?

I'm sorry Clifford, I just can't handle it.

Well, it had to happen sometime.

Toby got teeth recently, which are adorable. They are also incredibly sharp. Boyfriend likes to bite, and bite hard, on everything he can get near his head. Until today, that everything included my boob.

As I have noted before, I have a complex relationship with breastfeeding. I think I have been meaning to write something else since I was able to very successfully nurse Toby (with some supplementation, but at one point I was winning and the ratio was like 70/30 me), but as I have also noted before, breastfeeding might as well be a full time job in itself, so I just plain didn't get around to taking things back and clarifying and whatnot. Summary: breastfeeding is amazing. I feel like both Henry and I missed out a bit, even though he is a healthy little lad and I love him very much.

So Toby and the biting. I had been advised that if he bit, don't (repeat three times) pull him away because he will still be biting, and it will hurt. Um, this would be the biggest understatement ever - ouch! Mamas said discourage babe from biting by squishing him into your boob. Which works OK, except I seemed to forget that 8 of 10 times in the moment (soooo ouch!). The squishing was considered beyond hilarious by little man, who would wait like a snake in the grass to strike again. Charming. (Actually, it kind of was. He is incredibly adorable when his laughs, it's addictive like crack.)

This was the straw.

I have to admit that the timing works out for me. I've been kind of ready to go on a soy and dairy bender for a few weeks. It makes sense, Toby is seven months old. When I quit smoking (on more than one occasion, I am loathe to admit) I did great until about month six, seven, eight... It took years to bust through that wall and really and truly quit. If there was tobacco in like 80% of the things at the grocery store, I have a feeling I would not be on the wagon still. Dairy is in 80% of what is yummy, and soy is in 80% of everything, which limits you more than a bit. I have been practically bathing in cheese since earlier today (note that I don't even particularly like cheese normally). You see, I finally made the decision that it was time to wean.

Of course, that sounds so awful: I made the decision to wean. Really, it's been steadily happening for a while now. Toby has been pretty much comfort-nursing for a few months, because my supply was just not able to get up high enough to keep up with his monster-baby heft, and with schedules and craziness, and him being HUNGRY, he just has been getting more of his nutrition in nasty pre-digested powder form. The addition of solids has been slow; his tummy is still having a rough time, so sweet potatoes and squash seem to be the only things both he and his tummy agree are awesome so far. What stunk was that even though he was hardly nursing, if I screwed up just a little bit, he was a mess. Poor baby, we couldn't even tell if it really was the pears making him a nut, or mama accidentally ate hidden butter or soy lecithin. It's time to call it.

In the balance, we both got a great deal. We both to cuddle and share something special, and no soy, dairy, or tomatoes (and limited caffeine and peanuts) was completely worth it for those seven months. Breastfeeding is amazing, and I defy you to find anything sweeter than a nursing baby. (Seriously. Try. Sweetest thing in the world. For reals.) I will really and truly miss it. I might not have said this eight months ago, but that's precisely why I got such a good deal.

Now, Toby, you may bite away!

Public Service Announcement

It comes up multiple times, every time we leave the house, so I feel the word needs to be spread: No one puts fake glasses on a baby.

In case anyone missed the point I am making here, let me elaborate: Yes, Toby needs his glasses to see. They are indeed corrective lenses. I'm not just trying to make him look cute. They are not sunglasses. Yes, he needs them to see. No, he's not going to outgrow the glasses in a few years. Yes, his glasses stay on his head with that strap. Sure, he tries to take them off sometimes, he's a baby. Yes, we know he needs to wear glasses. Yes, his doctors have ways of determining what power he needs. Sure, that's amazing. Yes, they do in fact make glasses for babies. Yes, THEY ARE REAL GLASSES.

Aside: If you are a parent who has considered putting fake glasses on your baby because it's cute, don't do it. It's jerky, to your baby and to the babies who need glasses. Don't do it. Period.

Apparently being of childbearing age opens you up to the most invasive and inappropriate comments from complete strangers. It gets progressively worse as
a) said strangers know you are thinking of having children,
b) you are pregnant (obviously or not, once someone knows this, your body is merely fodder for conversation), or
c) you have a baby.

I've heard about the insensitive and offensive comments of strangers to the trying to conceive and/or adopt from several friends, all of whom handle it well, but get annoyed deep down. I never personally had anyone jump on in and grab my baby belly, but I got plenty of comments about how huge I was and countless unsolicited horror-birth stories. That was great. Even while I was in labor, I was getting them from the nurses. Bret nearly had a fit, I had just gotten used to it. Having a baby just opens the floodgates.

If you have an apparently healthy baby, you get questions from complete strangers that are extremely personal (inevitably followed by what is often ridiculous advice) about how much and what you are feeding the baby, how much sleep you are getting, whether you had trouble conceiving, what your sleeping arrangements are... on and on. Even folks who would vote to ban all mention of a va-jay-jay in schools, or wax poetic about how inappropriate the "gay agenda" is because it is focused on sexual orientation have no problem getting all up in your very personal private-part business. Just by way of example, I had a grocery clerk ask me whether I had a vaginal birth straight out of the blue one day when I came through her line with Henry. Too shocked not to respond with what was essentialy a reflex "Yes," she then hit me with "did you have an episiotomy or tear?" WHAAAT?!?!

Things are a little tougher, or so I have found, if you have a baby that has an obvious issue. Toby wears glasses (did I mention that? He needs them to see.) We can't leave the house without having at least one person, and usually at about five people, make comments about his glasses. This doesn't count the many smiles and laughs we get, or even the straight up laughing and pointing. It's honestly exhausting, frustrating, maddening, but only occasionally sweet.

So here is a little primer on how we'd like to be approached, by strangers. I can't speak for anyone else, but I suspect that these guidelines might apply to kids with other medical issues or other differences as well.

1. Smiling at a sweet baby is fine. Commenting on his general cuteness, also fine. This is totally normal behavior around a baby, and yeah, he's pretty darn cute.

2. Even if you assume that they are sunglasses, you should pause before pointing and talking about his hater-blockers, his cool shades, or how he is ready for his photo op. Sunglasses on a baby could very well be there for a medical reason, but even if it's just for shade, unless you're sure of this you should check yourself. If your assumption is wrong, you could be incredibly insulting, and might get corrected by a mama who will make you feel like poo (or at least try to make you feel crappy - I start with "no, they're real glasses. He was born blind, so we're really lucky he is able to see now..." I am very passive aggressive, you had better watch out for me.) This is not a mistake you want to make.

3. Pointing is never, ever, ever, ever polite. If you want to show your friend, your spouse, your child, the checkout clerk, etc., the kid in glasses, stop and think about how much you are objectifying that kid with what you are doing and don't do it. It's damn mean, and you should know better.

4. If you are going to ask about the glasses, be prepared to get the response mom feels like giving. This could just be "yes, they're real glasses." If someone doesn't want to get into the whole back story of her child's personal, medical history with you in the supermarket, it's really OK. It's her right, and her baby's right, not to have to share it with you, a stranger. If you ask follow up questions and get very very short responses, be respectful. You may be the tenth person that day to ask, and mama may be done with sharing with strangers for the day. THIS IS OK, really really.

5. Don't approach the difference as something tragic, or as a "blessing in disguise," or a "miracle." You, as a stranger, certainly don't get to make that kind of value judgment about the situation. And my feelings about it are absolutely none of your business.

6. Also, please leave people who are trying to have a baby/adopt, pregnant women, and parents with babies alone about their personal lives. Unless you know them very well, it's really none of your business. (And even then they might want you to butt out!)

Toby might not need both his glasses and his contacts pretty soon, but I might keep him in glasses so that in the event he needs them again when he is 2 we don't have such fight about it. This was advice I got from a TSA checker in San Francisco, unsolicited. The first thing out of her mouth was "My son was a baby in glasses at that age too, does everybody bug you about it?"

Open Letter to My Hair

Dear Hair on My Head,

When the heck did you get wavy, and why was I not consulted on the matter? Or at least informed in advance. Not kind.

Sincerely,
You know exactly who.

Happiness is...

...two sleeping boys, a good check up for Toby with the eye specialist, and packing for a trip to Napa for KK's wedding (to awesome Jon). A nap for me will make this afternoon epic, so I am off to make that happen!

My Almost Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I don't really remember a lot of things from my childhood for some reason. I do, however, very distinctly remember that my elementary school principal (Mr. Bond) would lead assembly every morning, and every once in a while (once a year I think) he would have a day that kept him from getting prepped, and he'd tell us that happened and then read us "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." It's a book about a boy who has a really crappy day.

It happens. Sometimes you just have a really cruddy day. Everything that could go wrong, does. Things you never imagined could go wrong go horribly wrong. I had begun crafting this post in my head as I was driving home from the grocery store around 3pm the other day because I was having one of those days. Fortunately, however, things turned around; it wasn't a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, but it almost was.

Things didn't really start to slide until mid-day. I was tired. I couldn't get Toby to nap, so I took him shopping. I had a lot of things to get at Target, but went to grab some more tops at Old Navy first. They didn't have them. They had nothing. I got a call from Henry's school that he was not napping, kicking, and yelling, so I needed to come pick him up since he was disrupting naptime. I never got to Target, Toby screamed the whole way, and I got a note with Henry that said he'd been being a bad napper for a couple of weeks. Great. They screamed in the car on the way home. I realized we really needed to go to the grocery store, Henry pitched a fit wanting a cookie, so even though it seemed like a bad idea, we did it. I had to feed Toby in the parking lot, which didn't really work out (more screaming, no eating). Henry spit all of his water out onto the front of his shirt and we had no other set of clothes. Nothing good was on sale. The veggies were not good at all. Henry pitched a fit and kept standing up in the cart and grabbing everything. Toby woke up in the sling, had on no glasses, and looked as though he might cry at any moment. At the car, I found I had dumped a whole mug of coffee into the driver's seat and my nursing cover. I had to sit, in my new jeans, in coffee to get home. It was during this drive I started reliving assembly and Alexander's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

But...

When I got home, things started to turn around. Henry's teacher called me and was incredibly sweet, putting me at ease and relieving my stress that Henry was disrupting class all the time. We made a plan to tackle the no-nap craziness. Toby took a nap and I got to play with Henry. We ended up having a delicious dinner, thanks to our trip to the grocery. All the veggies I couldn't buy because they were not looking good, out of stock, or way overpriced were picked up by Bret at the Farmer's market on the way home. Oh, and the ONE thing I grabbed before getting pulled from Old Navy is great. And I got most of the coffee stain out of my nursing cover (enough to be OK with it). Bret and I tag-teamed the boys and the cleaning and cooking really well, and had a nice evening together. It all really worked out in the end, even though it was looking grim.

I think it's a good thing to remember that every now and again, you really do just have a bad day. Things will get better, and it's even kind of funny because it's just so bad, but it's OK to just have a bad day. It happens to everyone and life goes on. And it's also great to remember that even those days that start out really bad can turn around. Keeping your sense of humor and keeping perspective is so important, because you never know when things can flip. So in the end, I got two really great lessons the other day, and I got to remember that I learned a lot from Mr. Bond showing us he was human and reading us a very good book about a very bad day.

That's what I want.

While I have admitted recently that I have a love/hate relationship with technology, I also still want stuff. As promised, here is a list, in no particular order, of the material things I am craving:

1. Portable DVD players for the car. I never imagined that I would want to be in one of those minivans with movies playing in the back on the highway. (Yes, I said minivan, but that is another story.) I find it distracting to drive past a DVD player in another car, as I am always trying to figure out what they are watching. It’s a terrible hazard. But so is a screaming child, and while Henry doesn't really ever scream, it is a truth universally acknowledged that an entertained Henry is far more fun than a bored and cranky Henry. Oh, and we can’t handle listening to the Alphabet CD on repeat for 3 hours. Ever. Again.

2. iPhone. I want to be able to take pictures, post to the blog, update on Facebook and Twitter, make calls, text, email, AND shoot video – all on the fly. I have said before, and I will say it again: I don’t like the phone. It’s true! But the iPhone can do oh so many things. And honestly, I need something to do while I am nursing Toby. And I need a device designed for one hand to do it because the laptop is unwieldy. I know this practically negates everything I said here, but really, I do need an iPhone to make it all a little easier. Right?

3. A fancy schmancy washer/dryer. Kelly Ripa has convinced me. I’m sorry, but being able to wash and dry a load of clothes in like 35 minutes is amazing. You know it is. Quiet machines - oh, heaven. Saving energy and water to boot? Please. No brainer. Gotta have it.

4. A laser printer for the house. I want the cheapest, simplest thing around. I need to be able to print forms from time to time. Or recipes. Or letters. Paperwork generally. I actually do a great deal of paperwork (it’s weird), and it would improve my mood tremendously to just be able to DO it. I guess we do have an ink jet someplace we could get back in action, but laser is so much easier. And I never need to print in color anymore, so cheapo laser is perfection.

5. A king-sized bed. Toby likes to nurse and sleep with us. I think Henry may want to come hang in bed with us sometimes now. All this action in the queen is just not working so well. Those extra inches would improve my nights oh so much… Oh king bed, come to me!

Of course, these are the individual, accessible things I crave. I also want a new kitchen, new windows, a new roof, and a new color for the house (among our other home projects on the waiting list), but even just the list above makes me feel a little creepy when I write it down, so I will just stop now...

Technobabble.

As I have said before, my relationship with technology is complex. There are machines I can't live without, and there are gadgets I frankly lust over. And I watch TV (and I like it). And I did, after all that bitching, join Facebook. I admit I even sort of like it a little bit (bastards).

All of it has me thinking about how different life would be without all the gadgets, all the media, all the information and communication. In the past several weeks, I have written what could be a short book on the topic, but lack the technology to transcribe my thoughts as I am falling asleep. (Aside: This is probably a good thing. No one needs to read all the crap I think as I am falling asleep. Not even me.)

Ironically, a mama friend just announced that for the next week she is on a media "fast." I like the idea, and also get completely freaked out by it. No internet, no news, nothing for a whole week?!? She is braver than I. Honestly, I have no idea how we used to basically cut ourselves off from the world when we went to the Bahamas for months at a time when I was small.

But this is sort of emblematic of my love/hate relationship with technology. One the one hand, there are devices that make things infinitely easier in a day. And honestly, while I don't have the time to hang out on Facebook because I have a two year old and a three month old at home right now, just getting connected with people I have not seen in years is (how I loathe to say it) fun. It's great for making playdates, and even for starting new mama friendships.

And then there is the other hand.

I end up spending way too much time with technology - in front of the TV, in front of the computer, driving places to hang out in air conditioning, at the grocery store... There is a part of me that really tries to make time for things like knitting and reading, but with limited relaxation time, TV usually wins. Even if it's just the news, or shows to occupy Henry while I nurse Toby, the TV is on way too much in our house. And so are computers. And cell phones.

I would love to get back to super-basics, and learn to make everything from scratch so we are eating close to the earth, and locally as much as possible. Since Toby's allergic to soy and dairy, I can eat very few processed things right now, and it's making me realize how much processed crap I give Henry - even though I really very actively try to give him foods that are not processed. When I think about how much time I would need to pick up to, say, make my own jams and jellies, bake my own bread, make my own yogurt and rice milk, etc., I realize just how much of my day I lose to technology. The trade off for getting the time to sit and read the New York Times online (headlines only for me these days, but still) and watch my trashy TV for a couple of hours in the evening is losing those hours for everything else. Getting to keep up with all my friends from college on Facebook may mean I am losing hours of face time with new friends in my community, and that's kind of sad, huh?

I have no real answers here, and don't think I could even last one week without all my gadgets. In fact, I have a great big list of new stuff I would love to have because it would definitely make my life easier (I will be sharing it in the next few days so you can see how my gears are turning). I'm OK with wanting stuff, and some of the trade-offs that happen. But, I am going to work on cutting back and making the balance skew a bit more toward face time, basics, and creating love for those things in the boys. Let's hang out sometime.

Liars.

Anyone who tells you that the first baby is the hardest and that from one to two is easy has one of three things going on:

1. Has a penis. What I mean to say is that while fabulous, papas who can't breastfeed just can't grasp what it's like to juggle a toddler and a baby who is attached to your boob. Period. Ignore them on these issues.

2. A gap of five or more years between kids and/or the conversation and the birth of their second child. Time makes exhaustion fade from memory, and a kid five or older can help out, or at least not be trying to destroy the house and him/herself at least 50% of the time while awake.
I should note that managing even the most unruly toddler is a breeze when unencumbered by a newborn that requires about 90% of your attention and energy. It's also far easier to manage anything when you've had some uniterrupted sleep, or have the prospect of it surely ahead of you.

3. A housekeeper, personal assistant, and chef. Even I would agree that it was easy if my laundry, cleaning, paperwork, and cooking were under control without my energy. But even then, two is harder than one.

He likes his space.

I know the books say that you should not sneak away from your child when you drop him off at school. I got the memo, but apparently Henry has other ideas.

You MUST sneak away from my Henry or it ruins his day. I have accidentally said "see ya" a few times now, and it's no good. The mornings were making me tense, not knowing if he'd decide to hold my hand all the way to the playground, or follow me to the cubby, making a sneak-away impossible...

Apparently Henry also realized that this hit or miss system was not working. For the past several days when we arrive at school he walks into the lobby, points to the couches and says, "Mommy, sit down." Once I am sitting, he walks on down the ramp and out to the playground, giving me my exit. The independence he has been displaying kind of floors me.

Uncle.

Fine.

I joined stupid Facebook.

I will not enjoy it.

So there.

so...

...bret's on facebook now. look him up. now we'll be in the loop.

i'm still not joining, so there.

When you are on a budget, but fabulous.

I have an extended family that is not biologically connected to me, but might as well be. One of these "sisters" is a writer who is so clever it's sick. She is funny, and terribly witty, so her blog is really fun to read. And useful, too, as she always has fun fashion and gift ideas for under $50. She even gave a shout out to my little Toby (and we got a killer gift!). Check her out at Poor Couture, because who doesn't crave clever, fashionable, and affordable?

Support the Rights of Breastfeeding Mamas

Regardless of where you stand on what to feed babies (there is debate, see my discussions here and here), I assume that if you are reading this blog you support every mother's right to breastfeed wherever she darn well pleases, not to be fired for breastfeeding or pumping, and generally believe that breastfeeding mamas have rights that certainly ought to be protected.

Short aside: Why do I assume you are down? Because the chances that you are randomly reading this are slim. If we hang out, I think I would have picked up on your disdain for mamas feeding babies. If that's the case, we probably don't hang out anymore. Not trying to be a jerk here, but this is kind of a dealbreaker for me.

You should take a few minutes and go here to learn more about the Breastfeeding Promotion Act, introduced in Congress June 11. Not the first time it's been there, but maybe there is change in the air we can ride. Write, call , fax, generally harrass your members of Congress and get them on the bandwagon too. Hey, let's go to DC and do a nurse-in!

Living in Florida I have the right to nurse my baby anywhere I can legally be, but this is not the case all over. It's also not the case that you can nurse without fear on an airplane. Or that you can't be fired for breastfeeding or pumping - I have a friend who lost her job because she was committed to breastfeeding her baby. Not cool.

So take a moment and learn, and then get on it. Even if you are not a breastfeeding mama, you should support them!

Henry shorts.

SLUUT
Henry would be the happiest kid in the world if only he could read. It's not for lack of desire that he can't do it yet. He's obsessed with letters, and has taken to placing random magnetic letters into "words," reciting the letters, and asking us "what's that spell?" This morning he asked me what "S-L-U-U-T" spelled. While trying to decide how I should pronounce this one, I also couldn't help but hope that this was not some torrid thing he picked up at Ikea during our visit last week.

Conversation
Last night I let Bret take Toby so I could sleep. When I got up with Henry, I needed to both feed him breakfast and pump breastmilk because Toby was fed and asleep with Papa. So I decided that, since Henry has to watch Toby eat all the time, he could handle watching me pump. Here's how that turned out:

Henry: (pointing to breastpump apparatus stuck to me) Mommy, what's in there?
Me: In the bottle is milk for Toby.
H: No, what's in there?
M: That's mommy's boobie. It makes milk.
H: Put the boobie away, mommy.
M: Mommy needs to make milk for baby Toby. I'll cover it up. (I do, but keep pumping.)
H: No boobies! No boobies! No boobies!

He's right really. Boobies away at the dining table seems like a reasonable request. At least when no baby is eating that is.

Still here. Well, back I guess.

So my last post was from the wee hours of May 17. Funny. Before that day was done, I had given birth to my second child. Toby was short and fat, and very sweet.

Life has kind of completely flopped around for us, too. I mean, we knew going into baby #2 that things would be different around here, but I know I had no idea how many things would change so dramatically so quickly.

First, Toby's had a rough start. He was born with cataracts in both eyes, so he was basically blind. Our pediatrician caught it right away, and as soon as we were discharged from the hospital the day after he was born we headed to a surgeon who does neonatal eye surgery for consultation. Before we even headed home, we were scheduled for surgery on his right eye one week later, and his left eye the next week. We had to act right away to prevent damage to his long-term ability to process visual information, which is apparently a huge risk when dealing with eye issues in tiny ones. It has been scary as hell, and exhausting to a level I have never experienced. Overnights in the kids ward at the hospital are absolutely hellish.

Now we are working out a schedule of eye drops that makes my head spin, and he is already in contact lenses so he can have some focus (since he now has no lenses in his eyes). We're exploring glasses in another month or so. And lots of appointments. But Toby can see, and how incredible is that?

Second, Henry suddenly seems so grown up to me. Literally the day after Toby was born and he came to see me I was taken aback by how BIG he is. After holding a tiny baby, a two year old just seems humungous. Changing his diaper is weird, and holding his hand is different. He's also made a seamless transition to a big boy bed, and spent a week with my parents while we dealt with surgeries and recovery. He's like a little man now. It's wonderful and amazing, but it makes me a little sad because he is my special baby, and he's just not my baby anymore. (The hormones make me more than a little sad about this.) He's starting school in a week, and seems so independent suddenly. How I love this boy, and how I need to figure out how to let go a little because all I want to do is cuddle him, and keep him from getting any bigger.

Being a mama is amazing, but it has felt so intense these past few weeks. It's like the experience so far has been practice, and now I'm the MOM with a real kid, and a sick baby, in serious situations that require me to be a grown up, be strong, be brave, not cry, and be a MOM. I have to be tough and fierce and fight for my kids, and I have to make really serious decisions about their lives. I know, I've been doing this for more than two years, but somehow these past three weeks have hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm the mom camping out in the hospital room with her baby. I'm the mom handing the baby over to the doctor for surgery, and I'm the mom the baby is crying for when he wakes up. I'm the mom who suddenly refuses to touch dairy because it makes her baby's insides do scary things. I'm the mom Henry might have missed (I think he was fine) on his first visit overnight away from home, and I'm going to be the mom taking him to school and helping with projects and classroom events and all such things.

Here I am. I'm the mom. Breathe.

No, I am not on Facebook.

I think maybe we miss out on a lot because neither Bret nor I has any desire to sign up for Facebook. And we probably won't do it. I don't check the Myspace. I canceled my Friendster in like 2004. Seriously, can't we all revive letters or something? I know it's a lot to ask, but I miss mail. And really don't want to remember another password.

Really?

I found this funny. I admit, I was aghast to discover that both my Master's and my Juris Doctor diplomas would be in English. I guess Georgetown is out of step (which I should have known, I mean they call my Bachelor's an A.B. to accommodate the Latin, which is surely weird.) I have to say though, my high school and undergraduate diplomas look far more fancy...

Good friends

This morning I was talking to a mama on the phone. Me talking on the phone with a mama friend was something special in and of itself, but more on that later. She was talking about another mama moving away, and how sad it was because it's so hard to make new friends as an adult. Bingo! (She is such a smart mama.)

One of my half-written posts is about my aversion to the telephone. Here's the quick version of that: I hate the phone. I don't know why exactly. I don't like my cell phone or the house phone (yes, we still have a land line). I don't like picking up voicemail or listening to the answering machine. I'm not into making calls, and I tend to not even like getting calls about 95% of the time. I tolerate the phone as a necessary evil in my life, but I really dislike it tremendously.

When you really try to avoid the phone like I do, it makes it tough to hang out with people. Other people like the phone, and it is a very useful tool for making plans and keeping in touch. I'll give it all this, but I still hate it. So it's really tough to make plans and playdates, and moving beyond the kind of acquaintance, getting to know you kind of interaction gets pretty stunted.

My mommy groups have helped tremendously with overcoming this difficulty. I've found that mamas that I see because we have a regular meeting time and place have, by default, become my sort-of friends, and what's very cool is that many have become really-truly friends. Of course, I still feel like there are a lot of people in my extended community that I ought to see more often (or at all), but don't. Even with my mama friends, my reticence to get on the dang phone ends up making it tough to make friendships stick very well, especially now when life is shifting and there are fewer organized times and spaces for interactions -- meaning I've got to be more proactive in the reaching out and planning. I'm working on that pretty actively now.

I've been able to start the seeds of a community of mamas around me (or at least see that the seeds have been sown) but now it's time to get down to the business of really making that work. It's kind of exciting, especially now that I am not working and can be more flexible with the schedule. (I'm also a little more desperate for things to do, as trying to entertain Henry on my own every day is just plain crazy. Kid needs more variety than that, and frankly so do I!)

I am working on all this, because I really really like so many of my mama friends, and miss so many of my friends that I just don't talk to much anymore because of the differences in our lives. Getting out there is so good for me, and having kid-o's to hang with is so good for Henry. I see him learn words, social skills, even motor skills just about every time we hang out with kids, his age or not. It's going to be a little tougher pretty darn soon (Toby, hear that -- soon! Come on!) but I feel sure it will be worth it.

So if you want to hang out, go ahead and call. I'm into answering the phone right now.

Important thing

If you ever have a boy in your care who wears diapers, be warned: pointing their wiener down in is very important. Otherwise, you really will end up with pee on the floor. Promise.

When they get old enough to stick their hands down their pants, you're just in trouble. Double promise.

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day. I get to sleep in while Bret and Henry make breakfast, so I won't worry about not being able to sleep right now.

I wish I could say that today was nothing but love and joy for me, because in many ways being a mama is all about love and joy. But it's far more complicated than that, particularly this year. There are several elements to explain, so I will do my best to unravel things, partly because working them out in some sort of order will, hopefully, help me think them through too.

First: Becoming a mama opens your heart to this deep, infinite well of love and emotion. To be able to love as purely and deeply as you love your babies is, in short, indescribable. I don't think I can even begin to think about putting words to it, because it is so intense, so personal, and so mutable. It's also so deep that you hardly notice it most of the time. But, it also opens you up to a range of emotions that make it hard not to be affected by the world in very personal ways, even when things have nothing to do with you. Everything becomes immediate if it can be at all related to your family, even in purely analogous ways. Your range for empathy increases infinitely, and, let me tell you, pregnancy hormones increase that range even further.

Second: I have never dealt with death in healthy ways. You could say I just don't deal with it, and that would be an understatement. I have been to one funeral in my life, in fourth grade (my great grandfather's). I just have not been able to bring myself to go. I have been fortunate not to lose many people I care deeply about, but have not been able to learn how to grieve in healthy ways.

Third: I miss my friend. Losing a mama friend just before Mother's Day makes it hard to find pure joy in being a mama on this day. It shouldn't, and I know I need to move on. And I will. But I miss her. I miss her particularly in this moment when I am days away from giving birth to my second child, and feeling excited and incredibly terrified. I miss her for selfish reasons (I wish I had her wisdom with me, and her assurance, and her love), and feel so much guilt about how poorly I have dealt with missing her.

I wish I could say that being a mama, today, was pure love and joy. I wish that I could say that about to become a mama again was nothing but exciting. But I'm scared. And sad. And also filled with love and joy so boundless I never knew it was possible.

I don't know if only mamas get to know emotion so deep that it explains the concept of infinity, but certainly it's a mama law that mamas get to know it.

Present This!

My lovely sister-in-law is incredibly socially together, and full of tip-top advice about gift-giving. She always sends the best (read: coolest, most considerate, best-timed) cards and notes, and ALWAYS gives the coolest presents. (I will add a few pics of the awesomeness she and my brother have sent Henry in his 2 years, and me and Bret too, when I can get it together.) She has started a blog about gift giving, and I can assure you, she knows her business. Check her out: Present This!
http://presentthis.blogspot.com/

More hours in the day please. And a few other things.

Ravelry looks like so much fun, but I hardly have time to knit at all, let alone let the addiction overtake me. I wish I could though. I really love knitting.

My to do list is simply off the charts. I need a personal assistant please. And a housekeeper.

I really miss sleep. I get some at night, and have been napping like crazy when Henry does, but it's not enough. I need to crash right now, but it's just not a possibility when my maniac 2 year old is roaming free and I really do need to get through some of aforementioned to do list.

I miss movies. We've watched some lately, but I am finding my attention span suffering from lack of sleep and distractions (like knitting and stressing about how much I have to do right now). I miss the movie theater (although learning to live without it has not been that hard, and I feel bad dropping that much money on 2 hours these days).

Generally, I'd like to have more of an attention span. I've been finding that finishing my sentences, let alone an adult conversation, has become a bit of a chore. I don't think I have been able to have quite the same sustained train of thought since I got pregnant with Henry, and that freaks me out more than a little bit. It also means I end up being stressed out about having had flaky conversations with people after the fact, which contributes to my lack of sleep and further distraction.

So, a few more hours to do some knitting, do some cleaning while Henry sleeps, and watch some movies would be great. A little brain boost would also be awesome. Of course, I would settle for a housekeeper, a personal assistant, and a masseuse. Just for a little while.

Really?

I'm so done with this can't sleep business. Of course, I understand that with the impending arrival of a newborn that I am not in for long, uninterrupted hours of sleep; however, this can't sleep business just might be near an end.

I also can not believe it's Monday and I haven't posted since last Wednesday. So much for goals.

Other things I can not believe this very early morning:

1. Gainesville community pools do not open until 4pm on weekdays (at least not right now). This is crap.

2. I had to make my Twitter updates private due to a slew of sketchy folk trying to follow me. What? (I get Twitter, but so don't get Twitter sometimes.)

3. I can't think of the 500 other things that were keeping me up and actually want to go back to sleep until Henry rises with the sun.

Note to self: Man, that was a lame post.

Busy

We have been so busy so far this week, and as of now, we will be for the rest of it too. Mornings have been packed, and afternoons have been spent playing in the backyard mostly (it's doing great, check it out!)


Here is a sample of my new life with Henry, replacing conference calls and drafting deadlines...

Monday: Target shopping for things we need, like storage boxes, shower liner, sponges, bungee cords (they didn't have any I could find), ironing board pad... you get the idea. Mall playtime for an hour (that place is a little bit sketchy, but he loves it and I can guard the only exit without running around). Lunch at Chick-fil-A (I know, I know...). Home just in time for nap. Afternoon art projects with paint and puppets.

Tuesday: Swimming with Alex, Mimi, Ben, Sophia, and Maya. Lunch by the pool, and home for a nap. Afternoon naked time with water and swings in the backyard. (Note: Naked sliding is not the best thing, and I think Henry's down with this concept now.)

Wednesday: Playgroup at our house, in our fun new backyard! Afternoon... hmmm (Bret's not home until super late, so we have to figure something good out so as not to go crazy before bedtime!)

Thursday: Swimming at the community pool with Karen, Sebastian, and Sarah. Possibly an additional playdate early in the morning.

Friday: MusikGarten (music class), playtime and lunch with Maya.

With 3 million things to do, I have been trying not to nap when Henry does, but it's very hard to get anything accomplished when you are ready to pass out. I have been doing some napping, but more nothing because I am trying not to nap (but can't quite get it together to work on things). All this seems kind of ridiculous, so I have a new list of things that I need to get done, and I hope to work through some of it this week and then this weekend.

I've also been working on a couple of knitting projects - Mr. Noisy and Brobee for Henry, and a blanket for soon-to-be Toby. I'll try to update on those pretty soon, but honestly, you may be waiting a while (the projects may be waiting a while too!).

Now I am going to go take a nap, thank you very much.

Yay for summer, so far.

Gainesville gets hot in the summertime. Really hot.

I'm not completely ready for all that, but right now, it's lovely. Hot, yeah, but not bad like it will be for sure.

We're all ready to hang out in the pool, in the sprinklers, in the backyard - anyplace Henry can have fun, run about, wear himself out, but not get away. I just can't chase him anymore...

Yay for summertime!

Open letter to British mystery writers

(and mystery writers generally, but mainly those brits)

Come on. One of you must be bored to tears rereading all the old Christie, Marsh, Sayers, and Cauldwell too. Please sit yourself down and write something new. And good. It must be good.

I'm going mad. Not even Wodehouse is doing it for me. I need something that is BOTH a comedy of manners and a good, solid mystery. And none of this gory, twisted, how-sick-can-we-make-the-killer crap that has been coming out of late. It's far worse over here, but you all are guilty too. (Yes PD James, I am talking to you!) I've been reduced to combing through my paperbacks to find plots I can only vaguely remember, because there is simply no fun in reading a mystery novel that you know through and through (with the exception of a couple of Dame Agatha's classics, but that would be TWO books, and I can't read them even one more time - it just won't work anymore). I donated almost all of my books to Books for Prisoners, thinking I needed to pass the joy along, not knowing my well would run dry!

Give me my little vice, my little substitute-for-daytime TV (I guess that's what it would be, I don't really know how the daytime TV thing works, but it seems comparable). I sometimes need a little escape during naptime or in the middle of the night when I can't sleep due to baby-in-belly going wild.

But please, I like it saucy and smart. Give me Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, give me Hilary Tamar, give me Miss Jane Marple! If you don't I will have no choice but to take more naps or watch trashy TV, and these prospects alone make me feel dumber.

My knitting personality.

My knitting personality is sort of half-assed, faking it. I love starting projects, working through them, and giving away a finished project, but if something requires too much attention to detail (or math), I tend to just move on to something I know I can finish easily. I do enjoy learning new stitches, techniques, etc., but unless I can master them right away and integrate them into things I do a lot, I don't really bother. (I'd like to think all this applies only to knitting, but let's be real.)

I learned to knit from my grandmother Thea when I was in college. I think it was my sophomore year, so that would be like 1998 or thereabouts. I made a ridiculously pointless half-scarf in garter stitch and gave it to a friend. He was kind and did not diss it, but really, this thing was crap. It was like 12" x 20" (I had one skein, so it ended when the yarn did), and it was a mess. I had learned to purl, but it freaked me out, so I just knit - hence the garter stitch. I had no clue how to bind off by the time I finished the thing, so I sort of rigged the end of it somehow with lots of knots. The number of dropped and arbitrarily-added stitches was spectacular, and the tension was all over the map. Did I mention that it was bright teal, 100% acrylic? Uncomfortable, unusable, hideous thing. But, I was so excited to give away my very first knitting project, I could hardly contain myself.

I honestly don't recall if I made anything else for years, but I managed to pick knitting up again sometime around the time I took the Bar Exam in 2006. I made a lot of scarves to start. All in garter stitch, because I could remember how to knit, but had totally forgotten how to purl. I tried to look it up and practice, but it never quite worked, and rather than really working at it, I just settled for garter stitch and made a lot of scarves. You can get a fair amount of variation out of garter stitch scarves using different needles and yarns. But I exhausted the possibilities pretty quickly.

I was getting better, though. My stitches and tension were much more even, I was getting fast, and things were going well. I decided it was time to branch out... in 2007. I decided I really did want to purl, so I looked up tutorials online. How did we exist without the internet? Or, specifically, YouTube? You can learn to do anything. From like five (or fifty) different people. Between knitting blogs and videos, I learned to purl. I also learned about using circular needles to make roll brim hats. The hats made me swallow some fear and learn to use double pointed needles, knit together, and read very basic patterns, all of which hugely expanded my horizons.

Oh, around this time I also learned about proper ways to change colors, add an additional skein in the same color, and why having an embroidery needle for weaving in ends is actually something necessary. Let me back up - before this period, I would tie the ends of yarn together and keep knitting. I tried to time it for the end of a row if I was changing color, but just went with it if not. My knitting was just messy and basic - I accepted this wholly. As for weaving in excess thread, oh dear. I'd cut it as short as possible (hoping to avoid this at all), and then do it with my fingers, which usually made a huge mess of things too. It was crazy, all over the place. Not invisible. You see, these "small details" required either a bit too much faith (the yarn would, in fact, stay kitted together even if not knotted!), and a bit too much effort (I had to keep track of embroidery needles, and I lose these sorts of things). Now they are part of what I do (and I have my gear in a knitting bag!), but it took me ever so long to get to embrace them.

I have learned more since then, but really I stick to the basics because the next leap will require a lot more work, and probably more math. I can make really large simple things (like baby/toddler blankets) using a few stitches on circular needles. I can still make scarves, but now they can be much more interesting, and can come with coordinating hats. I have figured out how to improvise making my own patterns enough to make toys for Henry, which I really like doing because it's all messy and crazy, but it's OK. Of course, I need to learn more techniques to get better at this one, especially if I intend to share patterns with others (right now I just put the crazy messy out there, but knitters tend to be more tidy, so I need to work on that).

But the toys are really a good measure of my kitting personality. I learned and tried new things to make Muno, but I also had to improvise and fake it a lot too. I had to just make it work, with no road map and a lot of gaps in my skills. If you look closely at him, you'll find he's an utter mess of pieced together bits. But he works. And I believe he can make it through the washing machine, although I might be afraid to stick him in the dryer. There is something to that.

I can't make gorgeous sweaters or cabled socks (yet anyway), but I can make some stuff. Eventually, I may focus and really learn to do some major things, but I kind of like my simple projects. I know how often I toss Henry's blanket in the washer/dryer, and how he loves it. And how he totes around a red cyclops or wears his little hat (not often, he hates hats, but he wore it all morning the other day when it was cold outside!). I love that I can do that much. And that there is not a lot of math.

Another thought on the politics of breastfeeding and motherhood in the US...

I know I went on and on here on breastfeeding culture and the ongoing discussion/debate about its impact on women, but I had another thought. And you know, this is where I go on and on about my thoughts.

One point that I thought all of the critical articles raised that I think is valid is that breastfeeding is not free because women's time is not free, and it is a significant commitment - physically and emotionally. It can totally be seen as work.

Of course, women's work on every level is devalued in our culture, both inside and outside the home. But ponder for a second - what if we paid women to do the work they do caring for babies? That would be kind of amazing, and a step toward valuing it in a more realistic way. I mean, CEO's make how much, while women get paid how much to be mamas? And which job ends up having more impact on our daily lives and our society? I mean, paternity leave would also help, because fatherhood is terribly undervalued as well and offering real paternity leave would demonstrate to papas that we value them and their contribution as parents as well.

But back to my point. Changing minds about the value of the work of breastfeeding is a totally class-charged thing in the US. We live in a society that doesn't even blink when a member of Congress gets on the floor of the House with a sign that reads "Do not feed the alligators" to illustrate his point that mothers on welfare should be cut off. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, depending on our own level of privilege, income, status, etc., the value we as a society place on mothering as work gets devalued when we degrade mothers on public assistance.

To be a family-friendly society, we have to deal with a lot of issues we have floating around involving racism, sexism, classism, and other deeply-rooted prejudices that are part of so many parts of our culture.

And that was what I was thinking.

So, breastfeeding...

I know I'm late to the discussion that has exploded in recent months, in part because I have been super busy, in part because I have a lot to say, and in part because I'm not terribly excited about trying to sort through all the issues. Breastfeeding is such a personal thing, and such a touchy thing - but I can't help myself.

I'll start by saying breastfeeding is great. I was a poster-child for breastfeeding. Literally. Huge photo of my mom breastfeeding me was part of the decor for the 1979 Year of the Child at the United Nations in NYC. My mom was hardcore Le Leche League, so nursing has always been how you feed a baby in my world. But, thanks to forces outside my control (nature? genetics? hormones in livestock?), I grew into some huge knockers, developed back problems, and decided to get breast reduction surgery when I was about 22. Oh my golly day, what freedom! Ye of small boobs, you have no idea how good you have it. I am still completely happy with my decision (and will likely have it again after I am done making babies if these things stick around, which seems to be what's happening...), but it meant that I had to deal with some serious physical and emotional issues when it came to feeding my baby.

Because I have this sort of bizarre perspective, I've really been interested in reading the recent articles that have been bashing breastfeeding. It seems like the first punch (in this round, anyway) was thrown by Hanna Rosin in the Atlantic with her piece The Case Against Breastfeeding. The title makes it sound a bit more inflammatory than it actually is, but it absolutely does challenge the notion that breastmilk is demonstrably better for babies, and does deconstruct breastfeeding culture in interesting ways. As this piece in Mother Jones by Debra Dickerson highlights, Rosin's article takes issue with the ways that breastfeeding culture has come to represent a new feminine ideal into which we must shove ourselves, dismissing the real impact that the work of breastfeeding has on mothers while whitewashing the physical and emotional demands as part of an idealized connection that a mother neglects if she does not breastfeed. Judith Warner puts a slightly different spin on the same point, proclaiming in her blog for the New York Times "Ban the Breastpump." She makes a stark argument that mothers of young babies should get more time off, have fewer demands, and be able to choose how to feed their baby without having to live like they are a dairy cow. She points out that we've fetishized breast MILK as a commodity that is best for babies, while devaluing mothers' presence with babies and making even more fervent demands of mothers' time for everything else in life.

I can't really argue with these points. I have to admit that part of the stress I had as a new mother stemmed from my guilt at not being able to exclusively breastfeed, and my feeling of inadequacy when I couldn't handle keeping up the impossible schedule of pumping, nursing, and feeding Henry formula for the first month. Honestly, feeding him formula completely freaked me out. I tried to time my arrival at mommy groups around his feeding schedule so I didn't have to give him a bottle in public. I felt like I had to explain to perfect strangers why I wasn't nursing, why I wasn't able to nurse, and how badly I felt about it.

And yet.

Breastfeeding is great. Breast milk is pretty incredible. After a friend of mine died just a few days after giving birth, I helped organize mamas to donate breast milk for her new baby, and I can't help but feel like that was important and special for her baby's early life. I'm glad so many women are committed to breastfeeding, and I am glad that there is a breastfeeding culture around me to make it an option for so many women. I want more real education for medical staff (see a great discussion about why this is important here).

For me, it's a complex thing. I guess it's tough to negotiate creating an environment that is sufficiently supportive of breastfeeding while also allowing moms to make truly informed choices about what will work best for them and their babies. Do we really need to make the case that breastfeeding is NOT great to give moms all their options? Why can't we have a blanced discussion that doesn't get entrenched in X is better than Y, period? Why aren't we asking more probing questions about the weight that we place on mothers to be absent from their babies? And why aren't we OK if moms choose to work away from their babies and pass along the feeding responsibilities to others (and don't pump)? Why aren't we talking about whether there is a new cult of true womanhood, and what this means for women's lives? And why aren't we working harder to protect women's ability to make choices about where and how to feed their babies? Or fighting to protect their ability to keep their jobs regardless of how they have decided to feed their babies?

So yeah. My contribution to the ongoing war of words.

Gotta have goals.

I'm going to try to start updating every day (or other day) because I have about twenty draft posts that are half-written hanging out because I am very bad about getting started and not finishing. This is true of many things, but apparently posting is way up the list. So is knitting, but I digress. Help me out and bug me if I'm not being good about this, pretty please. At least until I'm in labor, because then I might let it slide, and that will be just fine. I should go and finish a substantive post right now, but...

Open letter to the person (or persons) who, somtime in the past week, spent a little too much time uninvited in our carport.

Yo. I'm annoyed.

I know times are tough. Trust me, I know this. But stealing a kid's bike trailer and their helmet? Come on. That is just mean.

I don't have a picture to post, because I just never actually got out the camera when Henry was all ready to go in his baby bike helmet, strapped into the cute red trailer behind Bret on his bike. I guess it never really occurred to me that perhaps I should cherish those images because I would not get to see the cutie-pie red helmet with a little Amnesty International sticker on it again.

Yeah buddy, times are tough. I hope you needed money to feed yourself or your children, because that is what I will be telling myself as I try to let this one go. You see, now our 2 year old won't get to go for long bike rides with his papa (which he adores, by the way). Why don't we just replace it since he so adores it, you ask? Hey jerk face, times are tough.

Getting ready for baby... very slowly.

Henry and his baby monkey
Originally uploaded by Bret, Virginia, and Henry

Today Henry let me tie the monkey to him. He liked it, for 30 seconds. He would NOT let Bret change the monkey's diaper. Or let us read him the big brother book we have. It's the only book in the house he won't read, making it less popular than assembly instructions, catalogs, and CD cases. But maybe we put a toe in the right direction. And 30 seconds was long enough to get this picture, which is pretty darn cute.

OK, mea culpa.

Dear Henry,

Good job, sleeping boy. Clearly, you just needed more craziness and fun in the morning, and perhaps an extra half an hour before lunch. I'll work on that from now on.

I'm glad you had such fun with Maya at the museum. I can't wait to see how much fun you have picking strawberries tomorrow. This "being busy" is working better for me too.

Big kisses, Mommy

For goodness' sake!

Dear Henry,

I love you to bits and pieces. Go to sleep. Seriously, you are making me crazy. Sleep, please, sleep. You know you want to. You keep getting almost there, and then going crazy. Let it go. Sleep. You can sing Happy Birthday to Brobee and talk about oatmeal and applesauce when you get up. I promise, promise, promise. Shhh, sleep.

Love, Your mommy

PS - 3:15 is too late to finally fall asleep. Let's work on that together tomorrow, huh?

Clarification, or something like that.

Since posting this a while back, I have had a lot of private comments, and I want to add a little something to clarify, as I think I adopted a bit of a tone that made it seem like I had the answer to some universal "should," which is oh so far from the case. That, and my own perspective on "should" is quite a bit different now that I have been hanging out with a rambunctious 2 year old all day for several weeks, while also getting progressively bigger and slower due to being super-pregnant.

#1: I think it got a bit buried, but what should (ha!) have been the most important thing I said in that whole tirade was that every parent has to make a million decisions every day, week, month, year - and all of those decisions are a balance between circumstances, what your kid wants, what your kid needs, what you want and need, and how it all fits into your life. It's friggin' messy as hell. You have to make decisions and compromises on everything all the time, from what to feed the kid for lunch, to what preschool the kid will attend (or not), to whether or not you should take the AAP's advice on everything (TV, vaccines, car seats - I have to write about all that another time), it doesn't end. The decisions you end up making are as varied as the intensity and impact the decisions will have. There is no universal "should" for ANY of these questions, no matter what the professionals, your mom, me, your nosy neighbor, other moms, or any other "they" might say. The "should" becomes the decision you make, and whether I think it might not be the best thing is so beyond irrelevant that really the only "should" there is that I should shut my mouth.

#2: Decisions about life constantly shift. I was a working mom from the time Henry was 10 weeks old until he was 2 years old. In the balance, this worked for us. When it stopped working - or when circumstances shifted so that we had other options and could think about whether it was working - then what I felt like I should be doing shifted. I have a ton of respect for moms who work outside the home - it is exhausting to split yourself! Trust me, taking care of a firecracker 2 year old all day while incubating a fetus is exhausting too, but I have to admit that even though I am finding Henry incredibly challenging right now, I'm not the same kind of tired all the time.

#3: It is absolutely, 100% none of my buisiness how fast anyone gets into their clothes after birth. (And it's absolutely, 100% none of anyone else's buisiness that my butt stayed in some maternity clothes continuously from pregnancy with Henry to now because they are comfy my bottom clings to extra weight like... I don't have a pithy thing to say, I just stay fat, OK.)

#4: Mamas that make it work are good mamas, no matter what. You have to work pretty hard to screw up a baby - they are just resilliant little boogers. So mamas, ignore me and my judgmental self, and so long as things are working for you, power to you.

#5: I'm not a perfect mama, even when I try. To start, there is no such thing as a perfect mama. And beyond that, even when I try to live by my internal "should" compass, I can't do everything. My to do list is obscene. I'm sitting here, writing this, next to a window that has Henry tongue prints that are months old on it while within eyeshot of crushed graham crackers in the carpet from yesterday. I'm watching Henry spin in circles in his crib on the monitor, hoping he will fall asleep for his nap, knowing there's not a whole lot I can do to make him go to sleep since my belly's too big to let me rock him, and feeling guilty that his playing in there right now means he'll spend three hours in his crib since he'll probably sleep for at least 2 hours. Since I've been home with him, he's learned the words "french fries" and "banana popsicle." He's eaten fewer vegetables (except for tomatoes - he's eaten loads of tomatoes). I have developed a growning sense of inadequacy as a parent, mainly because his behavior is challenging, and I'm not handling that terribly well. There are a lot of "should" moments I let pass because I am tired, frustrated, or overwhelmed. But in the end, it will be OK. We're making it work, in our own little way, and that is kind of the most important thing (or I hope it is!).

Right now...

...being hugely pregnant is annoying the heck out of me. It's starting to get hard to put on my underwear, and I remember this being the portent of being done with it from last time around. I don't remember it happening with six weeks to go, however. Grrr.

Between chasing Henry, trying to manage the house, and trying to get everything together for the new baby, I'm feeling like I don't get anything actually done in a day. I kind of wish I had stopped working before I was pregnant, or at least before I was pretty darn pregnant, so I could have gotten things done around the house, chased Henry around all over the place, and learned the ropes of this whole stay-at-home bit before I felt like a full-sized home myself.

Ah well. In another couple of months something else will be annoying me, and this will seem great, right?

Menace.

When I say that Henry gets into everything, I think people assume it's maternal hyperbole. He's two, he's adorable, he's only about 3 feet tall, how bad could it possibly be?

We were at a friend's house the other day for a playdate. This mama friend has the most toddler-proof house I have ever seen. Not in a sterile way, but in a laid-back, sensible, kid-friendly way. Her daughter has run of the house (without incident). My friend's a mama that has this ability to channel both calm and control all at the same time, and it's quite incredible. She talks about homeschooling her now-2-year-old, and it makes perfect sense. (And I am of the opinion that many or most of us mamas should leave the schooling to the professionals, as discussed very well here. Right on sister.) My friend, however, will be a badass homeschooler.

By the end of our little visit, she joked (OK, she was probably only half-joking) that I should hire Henry out as a consultant for toddler-proofing. In the course of a wee 2 hours, Henry managed to 1) find and open the knife drawer, weilding the largest, sharpest knife in the house for about three seconds, and 2) open the closed bathroom door, find a bottle of cleaner with bleach, bring it in the hallway and spray it in the air.

I don't think we did any permanent damage. Mama, if we did, we will make it right. (I really hope the rug is OK!) So general warning: if you hear me say he gets into everything, or that he is like some kind of homing pigeon for danger, trust me, I mean it at face value. But he is still adorable.

New favorite thing.

Henry's latest favorite thing is here.

Whatever, man.