MamaSense

Up

2010-12-02T22:34:00.002-06:00

There really is no good explanation about how this particular week got out of hand. Sure we traveled on Friday and Saturday, but it really seemed like no biggie when we are able to get the tree up Sunday and rearrange all the furniture in the living room (to you know, actually fit the tree in, in a pleasing way). Tangent: I love putting up the tree because of the cleaning under all the furniture part...and of course the pretty lights.

Anyway, so there really seemed to be no reason for everything to go out of control. The house was clean for the coming week.

So if you were able to reach your eyeballs through your computer screen and see me, you might be wondering how I came to be sitting in my living room with laundry hanging out of two baskets piled on the rocker, toys and veritable junk littering the floor, dishes and food all over the dining room peaking at me from around the corner,and me sitting snacking on a dried up crust of bread with my hair disheveled in a sideways floppy bun from several days without combing it, I'm hoping that my reality show TV crew shows up soon. I hid when our produce guy came to deliver our box this week.

That isn't particularly surprising I suppose, but it is surprising to me after feeling as though I have positively slaved away to keep things running around here. Okay, so maybe not slaved, but definitely worked hard...okay, I liked my first word choice better. Whatever! I am bedraggled. Not quite as bedraggled as Papajama looked when he arrived home from school on Tuesday with the flu, but I am bedraggled...tanked up on vitamin C and probiotics? Absolutely, but bedraggled nonetheless. I honestly don't know how anyone who single parents or has a frequently traveling spouse does it. 2.5 days of this stuff and I'm done.

Phoenix seems to be her cheerful self, although she is showing signs of being cooped up in the house for several days straight. Zephyr seems to have caught a mild case of it though. She ran a fever last night, and I'm hoping that we're going to escape dry heaves with her...that's what Papajama has been battling. In the 4.5 years we've been married, I've never known him to go an entire day without eating. But yesterday he ate nothing and today he ate an apple, and a miniscule amount of rice, green beans, and tofu that I made for dinner.

So now here we are, I'm the last person up tonight, and I'm bushed. But, I really don't want to go to bed. It sounds far from relaxing. Both girls are in our bed this evening, and I know as soon as I lay down, Zephyr will want to nurse. Phoenix will want back scratches. And to tell the truth, Mama needs a little personal space. Three days of being pulled, and snotted on, and taking food orders...and to top it off Zephyr isn't sleeping well, and she's waking me up every half hour. It's much less than a relaxing proposition for the evening...And so I'm up...but who knows how much longer that will last....

Adventures in Homeschooling

2010-09-15T11:36:00.002-05:00

This year we're trying to do some homeschooling lessons with Phoenix. She is just ready. She knows nearly all her letters and asks all kinds of questions...her favorite one is "why", and I promise it never gets on my nerves when it's in response to a request for a change in behavior. Nope. I never hear myself lecturing "that sometimes you just have to do what your parents tell you to right away. And I'm happy to talk about why you have to do things most of the time, but quick obedience is necessary sometimes." And I'm sure no one can hear me saying that through gritted teeth or anything. Anyway, the point is that she needs some extra input so we're starting with the calendar and learning about counting and writing numbers...etc. So far it's really fun, even if the three year old attention span is a little short.

"My Dada Calls Me Monkey"

2010-09-14T22:59:00.004-05:00

Ssshhhh! Don't tell our big girl, but I'm making up a new nickname for her.

She's Phoenix. She is, of course, our fiery fiesty girl. Or as the dentist put it...she has an independent streak (this followed him me and two dental assistants trying to get her into the chair). Hmmm, yes, independent.

But then of course, she's complex. She's cerebral, curious, and it's as if she burns herself up and emerges cool and calm and ready for the next challenge, just as a Phoenix would. I've never met anyone else who can go from a tearing rage to completely calm in less than five seconds...and yet, I gave birth to her. She exists; and she's amazing.

But don't tell her I'm calling her Phoenix. She would only correct you and tell you that her Dada calls her monkey. Apparently she only has room for one nickname, and that's ALL.

Our little one on the other hand has a new nickname too, and she's not correcting anyone (yet) so you can feel free to let her know. She is our little Zephyr. It's as if she rode into our lives on a warm breeze (I imagine that breeze was caused by laughter, but you can picture it however you want). She's such a happy baby. She's the one that smiled at three weeks old, and kept all of her smiles just for me in those early days. She possesses mystery complete with her wispy blonde hair with brunette tips and the eyes of a sage. Don't let that sweetness fool you though. She's shrewd, and her every grunt is full of calculated meaning. It's in the eyes, and the regal hand gestures too I suppose. She points the way that I imagine royalty would.

Together they are quite a pair. Phoenix is nearly constant motion. She needs action and adventure and mental stimulation. Zephyr decides on a move and then goes. She keeps watch over all of the happenings, and then gets involved in what interests her. Together they are either laughing or yelling together. They mesh together well, or clash horribly. There's no tidy metaphor to wrap the sibling relationship in, so I'll just leave it as it is. Phoenix and Zephyr, Zephyr and Phoenix. The girls.

Oh and by the way, Phoenix would correct me if she heard me call her little sister Zephyr, too. Her Dada calls the baby koala bear.

hello old friend

2010-06-23T14:35:00.004-05:00

I'm absolutely itching to write. The feeling can no longer be contained, and so here I am. Writing when I can't seem to get this self expression out any other way. Before I give a big life update, I should let you see the absolute adorableness that has been distracting me from even semi-regular postings.

I know. I can't stand the cuteness either. I'm toying with a couple of different bloggy nicknames for her. Version 2.0 really doesn't cut it for such a little individual. And while we're at it, babyjama isn't cutting it for our big girl who just turned three (I know, it's unfathomable). I'll attach a photo as soon as I can get her to sit still enough for an unblurry shot. I'm sure you know how it is.

We're enjoying summer vacation at the moment. Although Papajama and I are resting much less than we normally do. We're taking shifts this summer. He works mornings, and I work afternoons. It's quite a bit less productive than it sounds (at least on my end)...as I tend to clean out my email inbox more than anything. Although, my dear husband has always been more task oriented than me, and so it should be no wonder that he usually arrives downstairs from working with his to do list completed. Oh well. Luckily, Jack Donaghy was wrong when he said "Marriage is a competition." (for those of you who watch significantly less television than myself, that was a 30 Rock reference), otherwise I'd be losing.

Anyhow, Papajama is looking for career expansion...movement? Whatever. I'm working with my dad to organize meditation courses and seminars for him to teach. It's fun, but slow going...who knew I was into instant gratification?

Anyhow, I just wanted to put this all out there, and say hello.

She's here....

2009-09-12T21:35:00.001-05:00

Our newest family member arrived yesterday. She was born at 43 weeks 3
days gestation and tipped the scales at 9 pounds exactly. We had our
homebirth as planned, but I'll say right now that the process of
giving life to another through natural birth was beyond any of my
conceptions.

This is a photo of our girls encountering each other for the first
time. Enjoy, and please feel free to bask in the after glow with me. I
can't stop smiling.

Overdue

2009-09-02T07:53:00.001-05:00

My lovely midwife tells me I need a new vocab. Because my baby is not
15 days overdue it's on time...it's just on it's own schedule.
Nevertheless I'm as teary, uncomfortable, and grumpy as one would
expect at 42 weeks gestation. Thanks for the well wishes. Will update
when I actually have this kid.

Week Counting

2009-06-26T15:04:00.002-05:00

I can't think of any other stage in my life where I have used weeks to mark the passage of time. It strikes me as a little odd that pregnancy is that way though. At the beginning it feels like 40 weeks is the longest time ever. I mean EVER. It feels like it will never get here, so just don't think about it or dwell on how long you will be a bloated porpoise or how long it will take for you to blow up to bloated porpoise size. For the record, I haven't ever seen a bloated porpoise, or any porpoise for that matter, but it sounds round and bulbous, and that's how I feel, so there.

I'm a little hesitant to post this, because I don't want to give it any more of my attention...as if that will somehow make it more true, or more likely to remain true, but I'm a big mouth...At our last midwife appointment, our baby was breech. For most moms this is absolutely no big deal. Afterall, I was only 32 weeks preggo at the time (now I'm 32.5). Right after our midwife determined the position, baby flipped transverse (sideways for those not familiar with the lingo) which is a good sign meaning that there is still plenty of room for the head to wedge itself down into my pelvis.

It's early, and at the appointment and all throughout the rest of the day I was fine. I didn't worry about it, but then all of the memories of being powerless to do anything to stop my inevitable c-section last time came rushing back. I bawled that night. I worried that I was selfish to seek the birth that I want, that I might not be strong enough to do the birth thin, that I might not be worthy, ya know, your usual run of the mill gammet of self pity and loathing.

I woke up and was fine in the morning and ever since. I'm working on focusing what is within my power, trusting my body and the birth process, and just relaxing a bit...plus adding in some chiropractic appointments for good measure.

I go back to the midwife next week (at 33.5 weeks if you're counting), and hopefully I'll have some great news to share!!

30 weeks

2009-06-12T21:35:00.001-05:00

Okay, I swear I didn't fall off the face of the earth. I'm still here, and this is what I look like tonight. Today I am 30.5 weeks pregnant. And yes, that is me standing in our new livingroom. If you look closely you can see our gorgeous hardwood floors, but don't look too closely, I haven't swept in a few days...and our dog tends to shed that luxurious golden winter coat...everywhere.

In general things are pretty great. We have our health....oh wait, except that we had to take babyjama to the hospital today to make sure that she didn't have life threatening epiglotitis. One short x-ray and blood test later, we found out that she had just what we expected all along...croup, and she'll basically just get better on her own. Thank you modern medicine. Don't get me wrong, I love ruling out life threatening diseases, but I'm pregnant and cumbersome, and I'm allowed to be grumpy about pacing the halls of the hospital while we wait for the results of the tests and balancing a groggy tot above my belly. I seriously don't understand why my biceps aren't bigger from all the heavy lifting that I do. I should look like Schwarzenegger from his body building days (at least from shoulder to fingertip).

In other news, babyjama is two years old as of this past weekend. I cannot believe how big she is. I mean I can, but part of me remembers that squishy newborn, and I can't seem to get it in my mind that she's not that person anymore, well she is...only bigger and smarter, with more hair and smellier poop.

This pregnancy is so different from the last. First off, it's going by so quickly. I sort of held my breath between prenatal appointments the first time around and willed them to come earlier. I just loved hearing baby progress of any kind. I still love hearing progress, but this time around it feels like a week or so goes by and my next appointment is upon us. The other day I caught a glimpse of myself in a reflection of our door, and I couldn't believe how huge my belly had gotten. Okay, seriously, last time I gained about 50 pounds....possibly more, and this time I've gained 20 so far. So I get that I'm not really "huge", but we have no full length mirrors in the house, so to see my whole self like that was kind of a shock. Anyway, so back to the prenatal visits, we had one this past weekend, and I can't believe that I'm 10 weeks away, and already next weekend we'll be seeing our midwife again. We're down to the end of pregnancy stuff. I'm well into the third trimester, and I'm wondering where all my preparation time has gone.

Oh, and I have a confession to make. I have not bought one thing for the new baby. Not one. I haven't even started making the baby a blanket (although I do have a pattern picked out). Does that make me love this baby less or something? It's so strange. With babyjama everything we bought for her, and with the new baby it's like "meh, we can make all the old stuff work for this one too". We didn't find out what sex babyjama was either, so we have tons of newborn and 3 month onesies that wouldn't mortify a young man on prom night when I show his date the photos. Really I think that's all a baby needs for the first couple of months...well other than diapers, and we will have to get some extras of those, but for the most part, we're even going to be reusing our cloth diapers.

I won't bore you with all of my pregnancy aches and pains...or maybe I will. If you don't like to read about other people's bodily stuff, please avert your eyes. I'll do a little *** when I'm all done.

1) My back is freaking killing me. I know all pregnant women complain of this, but seriously, mine could catch fire and I wouldn't notice a difference. It's been much worse this week with all of the holding babyjama cradled in my arms with sickness.

2) I seriously think my pelvis is breaking in two. I know it's kind of supposed to do that, but come one, can't it just do that during labor?!

3) The bottom of my feet are crying out from the extra weight. I've gained 20 pounds, and I now understand why people who gain a lot of weight develop joint and foot problems, and I feel for them...a lot.

4) My bowels seem to be protesting the way that little Gonzo is taking up their space. Gonzo seems to think that's funny and keeps stretching and growing like a big F-You to my internal parts...and my internal parts are tattling and whining about it. Just for the record, I don't like bullies or tattle tales.

5) Did I mention my back?

***

Okay, yeah, I think I've used up my computer time, but I couldn't seem to stay away any longer.

Transforming Dingy

2009-04-14T12:48:00.003-05:00

Update** We are on day three of no dairy, and the rash seems much better. And by seems much better, I can say that we got a full night of sleep last night for the first time in a week. I am thanking the allergy gods for this one, because good lord mama needed her some sleep.

I have realized that I haven't updated on our new house situation, well, at all. The house is coming along beautifully (and well, it should be since papajama and my dad have been spending a good portion of their lives there). I am so pleased with the progress so far. Sadly, I don't think I can get the "before" pictures of the interior to upload onto this computer, but I'll try and create a little visual for you.

The living room and dining room are what one sees when you first enter our new home. When work began, the first thing that greeted you was a stale smell, and stained light blue carpet throughout. The living room and dining room walls were mostly papered with a light pink and blue floral wall paper that had just a hint of a metallic sheen to it (I'm guessing it was circa 1989). There were a couple of walls that had been painted blue (I'm guessing as accent walls) to match the paper. Oh, and all of the paper was browned and icky from cigarette smoke. Okay, that's not just the front rooms either. The ceilings had an awful texture on them that looked like it could impale someone if they were able to hang out up there. And the whole house was a bit dingy from years of cigarette smoke.

From the lovely dining room, you can enter the kitchen. The cabinets are simple, and have a nice finish to them, but again, there was the choice of wall paper. A pink, blue, and off-white confetti pattern (complete with texture) greeted the eye in the tiny kitchen.

Down the hall and straight ahead is the children's room...well it's babyjama's room for now, but we plan to let the kids share it for a couple of years. It's walls were bright blue with disgustingly discolored white trim. The remainder of the rooms were painted a white or off white color that wasn't so bad, but like I said, the whole place had been discolored from all of the cigarette smoke.

Now, 8 days until move-in day, there has been quite a bit of progress. The entire downstairs has been repainted. My sister-in-law makes fun of me because I use the actual names of the paint colors to describe them. Our livingroom and diningroom and downstairs hall have been painted in "baked brie"...which is basically a yellowish off-white. It just looked white until the trim got painted white.

The children's room is a light green, to go with either boy or girl things. On a side note, I've been searching and searching for a new bedspread for babyjama so that she can have a coordinated room.

The master bedroom is painted a deep gray that I LOVE. It is such a soothing gray, and I can't wait to wake up in the morning surrounded in it.

Oh yeah, and the kitchen hasn't been painted yet. It will be a dark blue, and I can't wait to see how it turns out.

Now that the bulk of the painting has been finished, attention is shifting to the floors. All the carpets have been pulled out, and the floors are being prepared to be refinished this weekend. It's like a new house every time I walk into our place. Honestly, it doesn't look...or smell anything like it did when we bought it. I'm so glad that we were able to look past the UUUUgly and see the charm of this house. We're going to be very happy there, and I can't see us moving again for a VERY long time.

22 Weeks and the Creepy Crawlies

2009-04-13T07:53:00.002-05:00

Yeah, 22 weeks today. Not really much to tell in the pregnancy realm. I'm still growing and the baby kicks a lot, but pretty much no news is good news at this point. I'm in that middle stage where I can't really complain much. Sure, I have incessant pregnancy acne (someone told me that means a girl), my lower back is sore, and I'm prone to bouts of heartburn, but all in all, it's not a bad gig. There is always someone who is willing to rub a pregnant lady's feet (unless there's no one around), so I figure it's a fair trade off.

Babyjama has a bad rash that I sometimes like to refer to as the creepy-crawly-itchy. It doesn't seem to bother her until the middle of the night, at which time she begs me to amputate her left leg...which I refuse to do...so we settle for me putting some soothing lotion on it and sitting on the couch with her while she dozes back off while watching a movie. So, if my face looks a little puffy this week, I'm blaming it on sleepless nights. I refuse to resign myself to looking puffy for the rest of the pregnancy...I have a long way to go still, and yes, I still have a bit of vanity left in me.

After one sleepless night I made babyjama a doctor's appointment. She asked me some questions about babyjama's rash, and what makes it better or worse, etc. Then she took one look at it and said she thought it was food related. THAT was not what I wanted to hear. And then she went on to say that she thought it was dairy related (babyjama's favorite food). At that point I punched the nice doctor in the face and took my business elsewhere. Okay, so I didn't punch her, or take my business elsewhere, but it's not easy to hear that you have to cut out your child's favorite food...even for a couple of weeks. I resisted for the first couple of days. I thought that maybe I could just switch to organic products and cut down...but after three nights with no sleep, I'll try anything.

Papajama and I went to work hard on a dairy free/easily substituted menu last night, and actually it wasn't that bad. I didn't think I would be able to think of anything to make, but it's going to be fine. Let's just hope that I don't have to do this over the long term. I want to be able to order a pizza again sometime in this life.

Urination Investigation

2009-04-08T12:48:00.003-05:00

Ah, it feels good to be sitting in this chair, in this particular chair where I write all of my blog posts. I haven't been on the computer to just sit and relax in over a week. Sure I have my phone to check email and be able to read a blog post here and there, but it isn't the same at all.

Yesterday, as with the Tuesday two weeks ago, babyjama was driving me absolutely batshit crazy. Maybe that's not very nice to say of my offspring, but there was a short amount of time before bed last night when I thought I might scream. I didn't really know if I would be able to stop if I got started, so I reconsidered.

Babyjama has taken to urinating in inconvenient places around the house. This was the case two weeks ago, and I thought we had nipped it in the bud, but yesterday every time the phone rang she would find a spot and let loose. And I know it's on purpose. My little darling tot knows how to use the potty, and apparently she also knows exactly the spot that will make me angriest if she pees there.

I'm pretty sure that she's acting out because she needs more attention, or more stimulation, or something. I have been spending far too much time on the phone the past couple of weeks, and I am working on that. But seriously, how many more times can all of the towels in the house, and all of the bedding in the house need washing before they send me to Betty Ford?

I know it isn't just that stuff that is causing the misbehavior though. Our life is kind of upside down right now. Papajama is gone all day at work, and all evening working on the new house. I'm packing and boxing up our posessions, and we haven't gone and done anything fun during the day in quite a while. Tomorrow she will get to play with some other kids, so hopefully that will help.

Anyway, it's rough going at the moment, but surprisingly I'm feeling really chipper today. I think the weather is helping. Happy birds chirping does usually help a situation. And we're 2.5 weeks from the big move. That has to be worth something.

Happy Wednesday!

P.S. Had another prenatal appt. last week. Everything is fantastic!

Half way there, or so they say

2009-03-30T10:34:00.002-06:00

So here I am, 20 weeks today. They say this is the half way point, but since I didn't find out about this pregnancy until rather late (like 10 weeks or so?), it seems like a much longer stretch ahead than what I've gone through so far.

This weekend we celebrated my 120th day of pregnancy (that doesn't conflict with the 20 weeks along, because they are calculated in two completely different ways). In the Sikh tradition, we celebrate the mother on the 120th day, because it is the day that the baby's soul chooses her as his/her mother. Saturday was to be the day of our celebration, although I'm pretty sure that the actual 120th day was on Tuesday when babyjama and I had such a rough time. I wonder what it says about this kid that he or she chose me on a day when I was being pretty hard on the big sister? Discipline issues already?

Our celebration got curtailed a bit though, because of the crazy ice/snow storm that we had in the afternoon. My folks had made enough Thai red curry to feed an army, and all of the (2) guests that were able to make it without having to turn back due to road conditions had leftovers forced upon them. I didn't hear any complaints though.

The Hukam (reading of Sikh scriptures) that we took that day was absolutely beautiful. I'll share it with you here:

Bilawal Fifth Guru: Ek ong kar satguru prasad. By the Satguru's shabd is lighted the lamp. With that the darkness of the body temple is dispelled and the beauteous cabin of jewels is opened. Rahao. When we saw it, we were astonished and astounded. Its greatness cannot be expressed. We were enraptured and inebriated with that sight and clung to it like a warp and woof. Now no worldly involvements and snares effect us. And not even an iota of haughty intellect is left within us. Oh Lord, thou art the highest of the high. Between thee and me there is no curtain drawn. I am thine and thou art mine. The one unique lord has made the expanse of the world. The One Lord is limitless and infinite. The One Lord is extended in the creation. The One Lord is fully pervasive everywhere and the One Lord is the support of life. The most immaculate of the immaculate the purest of the pure stainless and the truest of the true is he. Nanak says there is no end to the Lord's limit. Ever infinite and the highest of the high is he.

---

In addition to the spiritual aspect, and the eating aspect, there was one other awesome thing about this celebration. Namely, the presents...for me! A 120th day celebration is not a baby shower at all, but rather is a celebration of motherhood, and the gifts center around what she will need to help her through the pregnancy and birth. I got tons of goodies. One of my favorites was a prenatal yoga DVD by a really gentle instructor. I've been doing it every day since I got it, and while I'm sore, I feel really good.

One thing that the instructor says in the class is something that at first struck me as really cheesy, but now has taken on new meaning. During this part of the yoga set, we dance and let our hips open up and flow with the music. For the last minute of the dance she says to turn it into a dance on gratefulness. She says to be grateful to all the people in your life who have helped make you who you are so that this child's soul has chosen you as a parent. At first I was resistent to this idea because it means that I would then have to be grateful for all the people along the way that have made my life a living hell, and who wants to be thankful for that? On the other hand, I don't think I can pick and choose which experiences were valuable and which were not. It just doesn't work that way.

So I am. I am filled with gratitude for those who have made me lick the bottom of their shoes, for those who have made me cower in self doubt, for those who have treated me like a nobody, for those who ridiculed and slandered me, for those who folded me in caring arms, and for those who challenged me to live up to my potential.

I was resistant to being thankful for even the "bad" relatioships, because I thought that that meant that I have to play nice, or be cheerful about those people. But that isn't the case at all. The relationship can serve the purpose of teaching, but that doesn't mean I have to embrace mistreatment as alright. On the contrary, the lesson may be to teach me to stand up against that. And that is what the gratitude is for. It is gratitude for the lesson.

Hope you are all having a happy and healthy week!

"In the Motherhood" had no moms in sight

2009-03-26T21:20:00.003-06:00

Things haven't been going so great the last week or so in the world of "my kid is a potty prodigy". In fact, things got so bad that I was glad if I caught babyjama in the act and could get her to the pot while she had a couple of trickles left to squeeze out...which is saying a lot since three weeks ago I was singing her praises for not having any accidents at all...basically ever. Well, I should say that these last few days have been full of non-potty pee incidents, rather than accidents...but I'll get into that later.

Yesterday was a freaking horrible hellatious day, that I never ever ever want to relive again ever. It was a day that tried my parenting soul to the core, but like I said I'll get to that later. Today was much better, but I was (if I'm being totally honest) looking forward to a night of good TV. Thursdays happen to be one of my favorite nights for TV, because A) there is a local restaurant review show on, and B) I'm a huge fan of "The Office". I was pretty excited that tonight was also the premier of what I thought was going to be a great new show. I had seen a bunch of previews for a "In the Motherhood", and thought it looked funny.

I thought maybe it would be a true slice of motherhood (since it supposedly is based on true mothering experience). I didn't see any of that. Sure the first scene was the single mother coming home to her house in shambles and the kids running amock and promptly walking back out the door without saying hello to any of them and going to have drinks at her sister's house. That's funny, sorta, I guess. I just don't see the slice of reality I'm hoping for. The truth is that moms really don't get to just decide not to go home. In fact, I know of some single working moms who fight really hard to get one evening once a month to themselves. Forget about just deciding not to come home in the evening.

Okay, so maybe I can get past the fact that nothing is realistic. It's a show, and nothing on TV is supposed to be realistic. Fine. But the humor? I think it was supposed to be funny because moms are supposed to relate. And there were definitely a few silly lines that got me to chuckle, like the one about missing being pregnant because it makes your legs look skinny. That was definitely funny. But the whole story line? The mom who needs to have sex because it's supposedly the third date? The "mom" from Will and Grace who pretends to be pregnant for the free loot? And the perfectionist mom who tells her kids that Santa isn't real in order to claim that she's completely honest with her kids? I just don't relate to these women.

I guess what I was hoping for was more of a Seinfeld type of Mom show. It doesn't really have to be about anything, because to me that's what makes motherhood so interesting and funny. The silly little things that happen every day. It's a mundane job, and to try and make it into a tight little story line like that is trite and well, dumb. I think they should have some of my favorite bloggers as writers for the show. I would so like to see this story reenacted on TV. Or watch this kind of single mom. Or see this happen in a day in the life of a stay at home TV mom (not all of our kids go to preschool while we run on the treadmill...with blonde hair bouncing)

Another bone that I have to pick, is that I feel like this show is using some stereotypes of moms that are just kind of annoying. There is the bitchy perfectionist mom. Her house is perfect, her hair is perfect, her kids are perfect, and her sex life is perfect. The scattered single mom. She brings her personal life to work, her house is a mess...her life is chaos. The dettached mom. She isn't into her kid, because she's gotten older and wants to focus on herself. Anyway, I guess I was looking for more well rounded characters, people I could relate to or something.

I might give the show a second chance (only because the commercials for the show really were that good), but my hopes are not high.

Okay, so I really will fill you in on how my child is way too smart, and she has learned to use urine as a weapon, but I think I have to save it for another post. I'm beat...and I should be. Seeing as how this pregnant body-o-mine is already past its automatic shut-off time for the evening.

Separation

2009-03-19T21:11:00.003-06:00

Finally, we're no longer in a holding pattern for the house. And it all ended up favorably for us. A few minutes after I last posted, I called our realtor and told her that we weren't going to put down even one more penny to get this house. She said okay, and I thought the house was gone.

Later that evening I talked to her again, and in fact she and our lender had hatched a deal. They would pay for the cost of the contract being delayed for two days, and then they got their asses in gear and that got it done. I really think that it was partially a matter of their own money being on the line. We closed yesterday, but it really didn't sink in until papajama started work on the house today.

Yep, we're now homeowners...with all that that entails.

This is not the only tying up of loose ends that has been going on lately. Last night we had dinner with my folks to celebrate the closing, and my sister, Z, was there. She and I are closest in age, but we've been pretty emotionally distant from each other in the last couple of years. We had a pleasant enough evening, but right as babyjama was starting to squawk (signaling that it was time to go home), Z and I began to bicker a little. Nothing heated, just kind of snippy...and as usual it was about something small. Both of us just wanted to save face.

Z and I are not strangers to arguing with each other, and in earlier days, we used to take turns knocking the spit out of each other too...usually using tactics such as hair-pulling, scratching, holding each other down, and don't forget throwing objects (we come by that last one honestly, but I won't tell you how).

Anyway, when I got home I realized that she had been right and so I called her. To my surprise we ended up having a deep conversation about how neither of us feels very important in the others' life and how much we care about each other and want to be more involved. It was the age old dilemma. I thought she found me boring for being a housewife and mom and she thought that I didn't think her life was important because she has chosen a more career oriented path. Turns out, neither of those perceptions is true. We're both just bad at putting ourselves out there, and making each other a priority.

The whole thing was much more lengthy and blubbery than that, full of I love yous and relief that all we really want is more attention from each other. As my dad said this afternoon, "wanting to be more involved with each other is a good problem to have."

It's such an awkward transition between being childhood and adolescent siblings to being adult siblings. Z and I used to get so sick of each other. We shared a room in our early years, shared all of our toys, shared most of our friends. It shouldn't be any wonder that we fought a lot, but at the same time, we were best friends. We hatched schemes, started clubs, picked fights (with others), giggled in the dark together.

Then as adolescence came, we went to separate schools, made different friends, and basically went our own separate ways. I went off to college and didn't really look back much. Sure we had a few weekends together here and there, and would occasionally spend a day parked on my folks' couch, but there was never the same level of fierce love and intense anger back again. It's one of those things you'd never think that you'd miss, until you do.

We knew the most intimate details about each other growing up. Including all of the secret family stuff that would make anyone else run for the hills. I think back now and it's a collection of facts and memories and emotions, but we don't know much about each other as grown women. It was a gradual transition, but we seemed to be absent for it in each other's lives.

I know that that conversation last night was a wonderful start, and I'm truly looking forward to the time that we'll spend catching up, but part of me is just mourning the loss of the old times. Of the people that we used to be. It was simple. We sometimes drove each other crazy, but no matter what we were...

Inseparable.

Was I bigger 2 weeks ago?

2009-03-16T14:49:00.002-06:00

According to this picture I was not bigger two weeks ago, but have actually grown. However, from just looking down I don't see any difference whatsoever. So there you have it. I haven't grown...although according to my updates from Baby Center, the baby has doubled in size in these past couple of weeks...which would probably explain why I've been eating us out of house and home.

Before posting this picture, I asked papajama over and over again if it looked like my butt was showing even though it isn't. He looked at me like I was crazy probably thinking "how can it look like your butt is showing if no one can see your butt"...men...they don't get anything. He says "no, of course not." But I'm not so sure...Anyway, it really isn't showing, those pants just fit weird these days.

We were supposed to close on our house on Friday. It didn't happen. In fact, now an hour before our contract is set to expire, we still don't know if we're getting it at all. The lender says everything will be fine, the realtor isn't so sure, and papajama and I are just positive that we're not shelling out another penny. If that means we lose the thing, we lose it.

I'm in a kind of funk about the whole thing. I was so sad this morning. I had been okay about the possibility of losing the house. Thinking that we would find the right one for us, and all that flowery stuff about how things will work out for the best...blah de blah blah blah. Then I looked at the listings online, and I remembered why we had jumped at this house. It was one of the only ones that had mainly cosmetic work to be done on it, and that wasn't a ranch. Don't get me wrong, ranch houses are nice, but papajama and I were looking for something with a little more character...some pizazz. It just isn't so great if this house falls through our fingers...

But we're sticking to our guns this time. We're not putting out one more measly dime in order to secure this house. We got burned really bad last week when we found out that the house might be a no go. We were sitting waiting for our final walk through at the time, and got the call while gazing at our new home...that's not the time to tell someone that things may be slipping through the cracks. Turns out our loan people didn't read the paperwork closely enough the week before and hadn't realized there was a problem (WTF!? right?). So now, we're down to crunch time. if we don't hear back that everything is a go in mere minutes, we're pulling the plug. One of those things that I've heard expert poker players say is that you can't keep playing because of the money you've already lost. That's money under the bridge. You just have to play based on the cards in your hand. The cards in our hand say that we can't trust the people who are telling us that if we pay a little extra to get things held over until tomorrow, that everything is going to be okay. Everything was supposed to be okay last week, and it wasn't.

The bright side is that we hadn't planned on moving right away, so we weren't all packed, and we hadn't given notice in our house now. So we're sitting pretty with a roof over our head. It's just such a disappointment.

This is what I looked like at 22 weeks last time.

2009-03-05T16:55:00.003-06:00

Hello again friends, so this picture was taken this morning when I was approximately 16 weeks 3 days pregnant. My haven't we grown in the past 2 weeks!!! I love the belly aspect of pregnancy, I get giddy every time that I notice that I actually have a preggo belly sticking out there.

I had another prenatal visit this past weekend. I love my midwife more every time that I see her. She gave me some exercises to do for the litany of round ligament/sacrum pains that I've been having. It's basically to roll my pelvis around in any position that I can in order to get my pelvis all lined up right. Saturday night I started out lying on the floor gently rocking my pelvis around, trying to get whatever is causing that jolting pain above my tailbone worked out. The floor wasn't really working, so I stood up and started rolling my pelvis in some type of psuedo-erotic-slow-motion version of doing a hula hoop dance. Eventually, I felt something pop into place though, and although the pains haven't gone away completely they have lessened. So who cares that my shades were open...maybe the neighbors learned something.

In addition to the exercises, the appointment went well. She's glad I'm over the nausea (so am I). The baby's heartbeat is strong at between 156 and 160 beats/minute. Papajama is still convinced it's a boy, but I think otherwise. And I'm measuring right at 16 weeks (well I was on Saturday...now I'm pretty sure I'm measuring at 25.

Babyjama wasn't too keen on having a semi-stranger touch her mama. The blood pressure gauge got an earful, and she nursed while we listened to the heartbeat. I love how my midwife will tell babyjama that she's not hurting me, and if I don't pipe up quickly enough to say "don't worry sweetie this doesn't hurt, it's super cool." She smacks my arm and gives me a look like back me up here MAN!!! (I'm pretty sure she's part hippy). She's great.

How are all of you?

In Which I Finally Update on the 1/4 Centennial

2009-03-03T22:12:00.003-06:00

I'm so happy to be blogging here today. I can't tell you how much I've been missing posting here. I was just writing at Sustainable Life about how much I miss the me time that writing on my personal blog affords me.

My birthday, which passed nearly a week and a half ago, was absolutely fantastic. I couldn't have asked for a more fun filled weekend. I received two awesome packages on Friday to kick the festivities off; and then Saturday was fantastic. Papajama had a few tricks up his sleeve to get everything off to a great start. We spent a leisurely morning filled with sugary sweet pastries at home, and got to visit with my fun-loving sister-in-law. I enjoy the time that we get to spend with her, especially because she's single and it's kind of like being friends with the bachelorette. She's extremely picky about men (and yes she once broke up with one because she thought he walked like a duck), but she also wears her heart on her sleeve and wants to give all of herself in a relationship. It's fun to live vicariously through the quintessential single gal...while at the same time being very very very glad about where I am.

After our visit, we got ready for a mysterious outting that papajama had planned. He then drove me around for 20 minutes in all kinds of directions. Which forced me to ask repeatedly "Where are we going?" "Are we going to Kansas?" "Are we going to my folks' house?" "Do I need a swimsuit?" "Are we going skiing?...because I don't think I can ski while pregnant...and did you call the midwife to check if this was safe???" "Where are we going??!!??!!??"

He would reply to all of this with "No....maybe?". It was infuriatingly amusing. The infuriation was mostly me...the amusement was mostly him. I absolutely love surprises, but they do drive me a little mad as well.

Turns out, that he was taking me to get a much needed massage. It was divine. I loved every second of it. There's nothing like getting greased up and having strong hands work those aching muscles while candles burn and enya plays in the background. My therapist worked out quite a few kinks in my neck that have been pestering me FOREVER, but alas I think they are back already. The kinks probably have something to do with the way that I sleep curved around a small kicking child, or on the nights when she stays asleep in her own bed, sprawled out spread diagonally across the bed twisted with my upper back lying flat on the bed, and my hip pivoted so that I'm not technically lying on my back while pregnant (that's probably also why my left arm goes numb at night...I'm pretty sure that I'm sleep impaired).

But back to the birthday, Papajama also gave me a second certificate that I can redeem at a time of my choosing. At the end of the massage, papajama came to pick me up and had dropped babyjama off with my parents. He then took me home, and in the house he had set up the Scrabble board (one of my very favoritist games) and gotten some of my favorite snacks. The "healthy" kind of root beer and dark chocolate peanut butter cups. We spent the next couple of hours playing...and I would have kicked his butt if I hadn't taken the opportunity to teach him a little Scrabble strategy. So even though he ended up winning, I'm claiming the victory.

We picked up babyjama after our Scrabble match to go out for Italian food. Our dinner was fantastic. We went to a restaurant near our house that seems like something straight out of the Sopranos. I'm pretty sure that some connected people came in after us...and they were definitely seated first (they probably were just family...but it's more exciting to think of it the other way).

Sunday we had the celebration with my family. It started off with my Dad's special recipe for French toast with oven fried potatoes. We did presents, which were a lovely mother-child necklace from one of my sisters, a really cute and kitchy apron and canvas bag from another sister, and new towels, bath mats, maternity clothes, and cookbooks from my parents.

We spent the day hanging out and watching movies, and then ordered from our favorite Indian restaurant. My only complaint is that the baby seems to be taking up space so I can't seem to eat as much at a sitting as I would normally like to, but I think that's not a bad problem to have afterall.

So that was the birthday extravaganza. It was so fun. I'm so glad that I got to spend it with my favorite people, and I think they had some fun too.

14 Weeks and Change

2009-02-20T10:09:00.002-06:00

Thanks everyone for all of the suggestions and support. Sometime this week, the nausea seemed to get better all on it's own...although I think I will be drinking more yogi tea just for the good taste (thanks Mimi).

I may have started nesting (isn't it a bit early for that) as our house is cleaner than it's been since the fatigue and nausea set in two months ago (or at least what feels like two months ago). Today I'm at 14 weeks and 4 days if you're counting...and I definitely am.

In the past couple of weeks, babyjama has entered into a new phase in her development. She no longer likes mama and daddy to comfort her when she is falls and gets hurt. She actually cries harder if we try to come anywhere near her when she has in any way bonked herself. I think it's partially that she's embarrassed when she gets hurt, and partially that she's just an autonomous person and wants to handle things on her own. It's a little bitter sweet. I'm missing the days when swooping her up and kissing her and cuddling her made everything all better...but alas, it happens at some point for everyone.

Also on the subject of doing things on her own, potty training has now taken that turn as well. She now goes in and uses the potty (when she is pantless) and then comes to tell me that she has done it. It's remarkable really. I've had several friends tell me that they want to ship their kids over here when potty training time rolls around, but I'm sorry to inform them that I don't think that this milestone had much at all to do with my prowess. The whole things was almost entirely due to babyjama's readiness. Okay, that sounds a little trite. What I'm trying to say is that I think she was wanting a little more independence, and I happened to stumble upon this as an outlet for that at the right time...It seemed much more like a fluke than parenting genius. I think I was more shocked that she was the first time she used the potty.

However, if you my wonderful friends insist on giving me the credit, I might just have to take them up on it. I mean, how often do you get to take responsibility for the accomplishments of another human being?

Honestly, I'm just enjoying the freedom of not having to do two loads of diapers a week (please don't point out that I will be doing them again in 6 months...that just isn't nice).

In other news, I'm celebrating my quarter centennial birthday this weekend*. It is chalk full of festivities (some of which are a surprise from papajama). Tomorrow babyjama, papajama, and I are celebrating together, and on Sunday we will join the rest of my family for more celebrations which will include the massive consumption of Indian food take-out from our favoritest restaurant, and presents and dessert. I love birthdays!

*In case you don't know what a quarter centennial is (since I made it up) I'm going to be 25.

Tired and more tired

2009-02-17T13:41:00.002-06:00

Okay, I'm just gonna say it. I'm exhausted. It shoudn't be this way. We just had a three day weekend. I should be refreshed or something...but I'm not. This home buying stuff is stressful and tiring. You can read more about that here.

I just had to drop in and say hello. I'm still here on the face of the earth, and I want to post a new belly pic this week since I'm now in the second trimester...wait a minute, aren't you supposed to start feeling BETTER in the second trimester? Well, I'm not holding my breath. I'm as bloated and fatigued and nauseous as ever...They say every pregnancy is different, I just hope this isn't the legacy for this one.

Hope you are all having a wonderful week!

This move might actually happen...

2009-02-10T13:27:00.002-06:00

We have two huge pieces of news, but I'll start with the most recent piece. The bank accepted our offer on the house. Yippeeeee! So it looks like papajama and I might actually own a home together for the very first time in our married life (it will be the first time ever for me). There are still a few things that could hang this up, like if the inspector says that the house in the middle of an underground crater and could sink in at any moment...ya know, that sort of thing.

Our real estate agent called to give me the news an hour or so ago. I couldn't believe it. She informed me that the listing agent didn't say that we had a deal in so many words, but said that she would be turning on the electricity and that we would have 5 days to do an inspection (apparently this woman is the pinnacle of social grace).

Our agent: WAH? So does that mean they signed the contract?

Other agent: Well DUUUHHH! (have I mentioned that she's a sweetie?)

So barring a crater catastrophe or a built in water slide due to all the water that gets into the basement during rainstorms, we are good to go.

Now onto the next little tidbit, and when I say little I am being facetious, because news doesn't get any bigger than this.

Babyjama learned to use the potty this weekend!!!

I'm convinced totally and completely that she is some kind of genius child. I (like all good mothers) happened to run out of diapers and needed a couple of hours to get them washed and dried on Friday. So I was letting babyjama run around in her waterproof training pants. After about 20 minutes those had been soaked and so she was going au natural. An hour later she was holding herself and wimpering so I put her on the potty. And she just did it. Bam. Peepee. Right in there. I can't tell you how amazed I was. After another 45 minutes I saw her do that little peepee dance again, and it was another successful potty experience.

The one hitch that day was poop and that happened when she hid away in her room for a few minutes. I walked in to see her scrunched up on her belly with her bottom in the air over the rubberized mat that I had put on her bed in case of accidents. And then I saw the turdlets under her bottom and on the mat. I couldn't help but crack up, but she was a little upset to see that those little brown things came out of her.

After this weekend, we're at about 50/50 with times she poops in the potty versus hides away. But she hasn't had a pee accident since Sunday that wasn't sleep related. She's now completely au natural during the day, and wears diapers at night and at nap time. It's glorious, but we also are staying in pretty much all week.

Apparently she was ready.

Raaaawwwr!!!!

2009-02-03T13:48:00.003-06:00

Okay, this seems to be turning into a pattern of me blogging when I'm unusually pissed off. I think it's just a coincidence though...or maybe it's hormones. I'm not quite sure.

This morning started out all wrong. I drove papajama to work this morning, and on the way read the post of a dear friend. She found out that she was pregnant a couple of weeks after I did, and went to have her first ultrasound yesterday. The ultrasound technician looked and looked, and said that there were identical twins in there, but couldn't pick up a heartbeat. What a crushing blow. I can't even imagine. There is still some hope that she is off with her dates, or that it wasn't a good read, and so now the waiting begins. Waiting for next week. Waiting to find out about the babies. I'm so mad. Maybe that's a strange emotion to feel, but it's true. I'm mad for my friend.

The second bit of bad news, which actually feels like a small annoyance after hearing about the babies, was about the house that we're trying to buy. After being jerked around all of last week by the listing agent on the property, and our bank, our offer was finally submitted to the bank who owns the house that we want. However, they responded today saying that they don't think the house will qualify for an FHA loan, and that we either need to go convetional or look elsewhere. It this puts us in a little bit of a pickle. We have a certain amount of money that we can pay out of pocket, but we were going to be able to get a better deal on closing costs, and had to put less down with an FHA loan. We need to have some money left over at the end so that we can buy a couple of frivolous things like a stove and a refrigerator. Going conventional makes that nearly impossible. Also, I have this little niggling worry about the property if the bank says that they don't think it's going to qualify for FHA...it makes me think that there's some huge glaring thing wrong with the place, and we haven't found out yet.

On to the most recent of my complaints (which I recognize is my own damn fault). I'm mad at our dog at the moment. I just worked for a good 30 minutes or more to get babyjama down for a much needed and much fought against nap. I rocked and swayed and hummed her carefully to sleep while nearly breaking my back, and just at the critical moment while I was laying her down in her bed, Leo spied the mailman and barked his freaking head off. Now I have a wide awake (and cranky) tot and a dog out in the back yard...which is where I should have put him before rocking and swaying babyjama anyway. Is it too much to ask that he figure out that barking has an effect on a sleeping baby (yes, I know it is)...Damn doofusy dog.

This pregnancy has a weird feel to it. I know so many people who are going through rough times trying to conceive, or the problems of my dear friend. I'm just feeling a little guilty about being so dang happy. I'm sure no one wants me to feel that way, but they don't get to choose and neither do I.

Another example is what is going on with my best friend since high school. She just got engaged a couple of weeks before I found out I was pregnant. She's been talking forever about how she wants to have an August wedding, and asked me to be her maid of honor (matron, if you want to get technical). I said yes of course, and then found out that I'm due to give birth three days after her wedding. Who knows if I'll give birth early or what, and so now it looks like I'm not going to be involved in the wedding afterall. And depending on the timing, I might not even be able to go. I know she's devastated about this, and I feel bad. I know I couldn't have known ahead of time that this was all going to coincide, but it's so upsetting that it is coinciding, and part of me feels like my baby is stealing her show. Which is the last thing that I want.

Okay, that's enough wallowing. There is one thing that I'm very happy to announce. Yesterday we took my first belly picture. Disclaimer: Papajama is not to blame for the slight blurriness. It was early morning, and sorta dark in our house.

Now please all, go send supportive words to pipsylou.

I see light

2009-01-28T12:20:00.003-06:00

So a continuation of the story from yesterday...babyjama awoke just after I finished blogging and was screaming and crying and seeming feverish. I immediately made dinner and held her and covered her up. Luckily I think she just had a case of the cranks and not something more serious like the flu or the dreaded e-coli that's going around.

She and I finally crashed on the couch around 10 pm. I woke up with a crick in my neck an hour later. I was able to stumble down the hall, put her in her bed, mumble goodnight to papajama and go straight to sleep.

That wonderful lovely man! I woke up this morning and he had cleaned up the kitchen, wrangled the contents of babyjama's rampage from yesterday, and left me with a nice house to wake up to. I don't know what I would do without him. Today is off to a much better start, and babyjama is down for a nap at a decent hour.

At our visit on Sunday, our midwife told me that my morning sickness was most likely due to the fact that I'm not eating at regular enough intervals and most likely need more calories and more leafy greens. I swear I did really well at this on Monday, but yesterday I lost the groove. The hardest thing for me about eating like that is that I feel like I need to do a whole production everytime I enter the kitchen. I can't just put some dip and crackers in a bowl, or put some salad dressing on some spring mix and call that a snack. NooooOOOoooo. According to me, apparently, I haven't eaten well unless every last dish in the house is dirty by the end of the day, and there's something stuck to the wall behind the stove. I'm working on it, but even as I'm thinking about it, I'm considering making homemade crackers, or making a huge batch of popcorn that I can put brewer's yeast on and separate into snack sized baggies. I swear I make everything into a production.

Why can't I be more like babyjama? For her a well balanced snack is the little crumbies that collect under the high chair cover.

Mama brain no worky

2009-01-27T17:37:00.004-06:00

Can we say that mama was up way past her bedtime last night? I definitely missed a few typos during last nights post even though I reread it (which I don't always do before posting). So no, "I'm missed you guys" is not some new term I'm using, and if you're waiting for the third thing that my midwife's house smells like, keep on waiting.

Gah! Today has been one of those days. It started out nice enough. Babyjama and I went to visit some friends and stayed for lunch, and apart from babyjama screaming and running away whenever her playmate looked at her, it was an enjoyable time for all.

When we did leave to come home, I decided to take the long way so that babyjama would conveniently fall asleep in the car. Everything was going according to plan until I jostled her too much while laying her down, and probably could have settled her back down to sleep, but my bladder was bursting. I thought it would be okay. I'll just sit down to nurse her, and she'll fall right back asleep, so I started to set up a nice nursing nest so that we could just relax and have a nice quiet rest and hopefully a nap. I even let Leo out first in case the mailman were to come by.

But, of course then the phone rang and it was the realtor needing such and such paperwork, which meant that I had to search through the house for it while a very tired toddler ran around screaming and knocking over everything in her path. I swear that child can tear up a room faster than a tazmanian devil. On the plus side, there is no longer anything on any of the surfaces of our livingroom, dining room or kitchen. On the minus side, everything is now on the floor, and wet from having the dog water poured all over it.

I wasn't too worried about the mess at the time. I had found the stuff that I needed, and would go do a quick errand, and maybe babyjama would actually fall asleep in the car again. If not, I could always come back to my nice cozy spot and cuddle with her later.

Three hours later, with more refuse strewn about, a child so tired that she can barely stand up and shrieking at 15 second intervals, I may or may not have in a moment of weakness yelled at her like she was a teenager and told her that I really didn't want to be around her right now, and that I was very angry at all of the things that she was doing. She may or may not have laughed in my face, and I may or may not have gotten a hold of her arm and considered for a long hard moment the benefits of spanking her (even though I've long been against the practice). I can decisively say that I decided against spanking, and instead decided to quickly make another concerted effort at a nap.

Thank GOD it worked. Papajama is in the world's longest meeting after school today, and I might have had to lock myself in the bathroom if it had kept up much longer. That's all for now. Kumquat is hungry. "FEED ME SEYMORE" (sp?)

The Midwife

2009-01-26T23:04:00.002-06:00

We went for our very first prenatal visit yesterday. And yes, that's how I'm going to announce that I'm pregnant and nearly out of my first trimester. I've been meaning to write it for ages, but didn't have the words. For the time being we're calling this baby kumquat (because apparently that's what size the baby is), but I've been instructed by papajama to stop that immediately if this little one ends up being a boy, because apparently that's not a masculine enough nickname if our baby has a penis.

So yes, babyjama will soon have a brother or sister. Anyway, we had our very first prenatal visit, and I have to give the midwife that we've chosen a rave review. She's exactly what you would expect an old timey midwife to be. She lives in a cozy home decorated with artwork dedicated to pregnancy and womanness. Her home smells earthy like a mixture of tobaco, musk. Her touch is warm and firm, but ever so gentle. As she measured my belly and felt around for our little kumquat, I was surprised by her gentleness. My past experience with prenatal appointments is of being prodded and jostled. I recently read Spiritual Midwifery, and wasn't sure that the kind of touch that Ina May described, existed in a care provider. I was able to so completely relax that our midwife was able to find our tiny baby in my belly, and I was even able to feel a small kick while papajama was able to feel the little lump from the outside.

Her questions centered around how I was feeling both emotionally and physically, but in a conversational way, not the interrogations that I'm used to. It feels like she focuses on all around well being, rather than numbers on a page, or some pre-decided qualifications for health. We are already on our way to building that relationship of trust that I truly think will give me the best possible birth outcome.

P.S. I'm missed you guys! What's up?

The Pooch

2009-01-14T12:59:00.007-06:00

The title of this photo is The Dogly Essence of Leo

Today I'm writing to you from my folks' house. Interestingly enough, we ended up paying off our car last month just in time for us to have to do some work on it...isn't that always the way it goes. So, while we don't have a car payment anymore, we're spending half a car payment getting it fixed this month. Oh well. Half of a car payment is better than a whole one.

Anyway, since my dad was kind enough to give me a ride back from the shop and feed babyjama and I breakfast, we're spending the day here too...to take him up on all of his hospitality.

So I realized as I was contemplating what to post about that I've told all of you very little about our dog Leo. The story of Leo begins long before we ever got him with Kaya. Kaya was papajama's dog before we ever met. He lived on a lake and when some neighbors moved and couldn't bring their old boxer mix with them, he took her in. She was a dog of the lake, and ran free as she wished but always came back. She was the kind of dog that was so ugly she was cute, and had very wise eyes.

By the time papajama and I met, Kaya was old. She grunted as communication, and the voice that we imagined that she would have was that of the old cafeteria lady from the Simpsons. She had one big problem though, which was that she couldn't hold her pee in much anymore. We put her on incontinence meds, and hoped for the best.

As our wedding neared, and we started moving our belongings into the house that we would share after we were married, things started going down hill for Kaya. She constantly dripped urine, and flies followed her around the house and out into the yard. We knew we would be gone for weeks following the wedding, and couldn't think of anyone who would take care of her. The final decision to put her down came one day when she was lying on the porch, flies on her hind legs, and a huge gush came out of her, and she didn't even notice.

We were the last clients at the vet that day. Kaya dripped all the way into the room at the office. The vet said we were making the right decision, but it wasn't much consolation. We both stayed with her until she was gone, and then left with her collar and leash, but without her.

After we were married, the house seemed empty without Kaya. Papajama spent much of the summer reading on the porch, but without his usual companion. Toward the beginning of the school year though, he said he was ready to move on, and wanted a new dog. I was glad that he was ready, and so we started the search. The criteria for our search were three fold: 1) a shelter dog 2) a puppy 3) a Rhodesian Ridgeback. Those three things put together made our search rather difficult. However, within a couple of weeks we had found a match.

A litter of puppies had been dumped off at a shelter in Oklahoma City. They were half German Shepherd and half Rhodesian Ridgeback. That weekend, we decided that we would go ahead and make the 8 hour trek and get our pup. I can't imagine now deciding to go anywhere 8 hours away on the spur of the moment, but I guess that was the charm of being newlyweds. When we got there, he was perfect. The woman brought him out of the kennel, and our curious little guy couldn't wait to explore. He barely paid any attention to us as he sniffed out scents under the woman's desk, and as he slithered around cords in the office.

He rode the entire way sitting on our laps, sleeping, and biting. He was the epitome of puppy with his golden fur, black snout, cleopatra eyes, and rolly polly personality. A month and a half later, when we found out I was pregnant with babyjama, I knew that we had to begin a crash course in discipline. He was our wild child. He chewed and bit and jumped on EVERYTHING. As the months went on I was sure it was going to be a nightmare to have him and a baby. I distinctly remember the battle over the jumping. At five months pregnant (with a 8 month old puppy who was half my size) I wrestled him to the ground after he jumped up right on my belly...I would show him who was boss. But the week babyjama was born it was like all of the puppy dissolved. Not that he isn't fun anymore, but he has a certain calm about him that I never would have expected out of him.

The past few months have been rough on Leo though. He has lost much of his personal space since babyjama gained the abilities of running and climbing. He's gotten a little crotchety...he doesn't like her to touch him, and he runs off while making chewbaca noises. We've been overreacting to all of this and scolding him quite a bit. So this past week we've been making an effort to really praise our good boy for all of the wonderful things that he does. I've noticed an immediate difference. Leo has been holding his head up higher lately and showing a bit more of his feisty self. He may be goofy and silly and rambunctious, but he's our boy, and we wouldn't trade him for anything.

My way or the highway

2009-01-04T14:49:00.002-06:00

I got a really nice compliment from a friend the other week. She and I talk often on the phone, and I notice that she's often shouting this or that at one of the kiddos that's running around at her feet. She and I have completely different styles on parenting...well and pretty much everything else too. To give a few examples, I was hoping for a drug free home birth with babyjama, whereas she says bring on the drugs. I am still breastfeeding at nearly 19 months with babyjama, and she has bottlefed all three of hers. I've been recycling since before I could walk, and a couple of months ago they started recycling aluminum cans...you get the picture.

So I was really surprised when she said that she had started doing something "my way". She has a theory about how the bad always influences the good and never vice versa, but on this particular day, she said that one of my habits had rubbed off on her and she thought it was a great thing.

She said that she noticed that I always calmly explain to babyjama when she's doing something that is off limits, or dangerous, or whatever. She said that she had always just yelled at her kids to stop what they were doing (especially the toddler), and that she has now started just talking to him instead and "it is working". It's honestly one of the nicest compliments that I've ever gotten, and I'm so happy for her and her family that it's helping. I work so hard at not being judgmental of other lifestyles and parenting (which isn't always easy), and I'm really glad to see that that has paid off.

Not to be a downer, but....

2008-12-28T16:32:00.003-06:00

Home sweet home! We're back from our trip for the holidays. I'm so thrilled to be back, I don't even care if the house is a pig sty...Okay, I care, but I'm still ecstatic. Babyjama is drowning in all of her new toys, and loving every second of it.

The trip to papajama's hometown was a little ho-hum this year. He grew up in Cedar Rapids, IA, and they were hit by the huge flood this past summer that was all over the news. So much of the city is having to rebuild, and many businesses just simply aren't going to open back up. There was a feeling of depression that permeated the air there. My father-in-law's business was under five feet of water when the river crested over the summer, and we went in to visit his now redone office.

The office smelled like fresh paint, all of the furniture was factory new, and the carpet looked like it had never even needed a vacuum yet. But it was so empty. His rows of filing cabinets had been lost in the flood, and nothing is hanging on the walls yet. He plans to hang large photo prints of the flood, a reminder of the devastation that's now painted over, but that shows even now in the homes whose lights are still out, and whose inhabitants may never come back.

The night before we came home, we stopped at the local Greek restaurant. The parking lot was nearly empty during Friday night dinner. My husband is friends with the woman who runs the restaurant. She smiled broadly when she saw us, but a few moments later she trailed off when saying that if things don't get better soon...

The drive home was surreal. We left on our five hour drive just before 8 PM to make it home before a winter storm hit. We were immersed in fog for the first couple of hours. Papajama sped along trying to keep his bearings by following pin-prick tail lights through the haze. Inevitably we were sometimes out of sight of other cars, and those were the strangest moments of all. It felt like falling forward and not being able to see the bottom. And all of a sudden the fog lifted and we were on a clear stretch of road for a while. Then off to the west, the sky started to light up with large horizontal bolts of lightening. We sat silently as rain pummeled our car, until the moment that it just, stopped.

I know there are metaphors and meaning in all of this, but I'm done over analyzing. So I'll just say what I'm thinking. The holidays were happy but sad, and oh so surreal.

How 'bout y'all? How were the holiday festivities?

Maintaining while adding something new...not my strong suit

2008-12-18T23:06:00.003-06:00

I apologize bloggy folk, what with the new blog and having vowed to make hand-made gifts this year, my fingers have been busy clacking away in other places.

Here's a quick run down of the last week in no particular order:

Papajama took a day off of work to care for his poor sick wife and daughter.

Our poor sick daughter ran a fever and got snot everywhere all weekend.

We had the reconciliation of all reconciliations with papajama's sis, and have been lending our moral support to her in her time of need.

I am seriously crafting like a mad woman, but am stuck on sewing the collar onto babyjama's sweater...if anyone else knows how to do this, please contact me...am quite lost.

Watched a fantastic film called "The Lives of Others", but seriously it's difficult to knit and read subtitles at the same time.

We're all living for tomorrow afternoon...it will be the start of the holiday break!!

Okay, sorry for the lame post.

If you need something a little more substantial, check out Sustainable Life.

Feminine Wiles

2008-12-11T15:16:00.003-06:00

I started having suspicions of this a few months ago when a toy that babyjama has never considered a weapon became a hammer or sword whenever boy playmates came over. In addition, babyjama already has an affinity for dress up (which usually means one of my camisoles or scarves). She parades around like the glamazon of the amazon. The smile on her face couldn't be mistaken for saying anything other than "I know I look fabulous dawling".

All of you out there who say that there is not difference between boys and girls, Bah!! It's just not true. Babyjama and I have been getting together with the other moms in our volunteer organization this week...and the kids too. And this week, babyjama is the only girl. So today when the boys were running and screaming and making their cars go fast, babyjama just giggled and clapped and sometimes rolled her car and sometimes took toys to the other kids. And sometimes she watched one of the babies and pointed.

She's so different in personality from the boys too. She doesn't have many words, but she points and tells whole stories in her little language. Even when the boys are too rough with her, she points and sticks that lower lip out and tells mama all about it. She's just...a girl.

After seeing a preschool friend of ours with her beautiful little pink purse, babyjama has commendeered one of my little handbags. She gets herself all dressed up and puts on her purse and walks around telling all of us (our dog Leo included) "Bye". She's obviously on her way out to get a mani-pedi.

Her baby doll is one of her favorite toys, and all small things are now "BEEbeeee". She must have all pretty things...there is no argument about it, it's just a fact.

Crafting? Who has time for that?

2008-12-09T23:22:00.004-06:00

Papajama and I were jarred awake this morning (I use the term morning loosely as it was 4am) to the sound of inconsolable crying. Babyjama didn't want to be held, or nursed, or even touched. She just kept screaming and couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. I watched helplessly as she tried to burrow her head into the mattress. When she couldn't, she cried even harder, and squeezed her eyes shut. Obviously she was trying to go back to sleep, but also obviously she was in pain. A friend's child just got diagnosed with a bad ear infection. So, the power of suggestion made me leap immediately to that conclusion. Papajama on the other hand was positive that it was an inoperable brain tumor...please someone, help him tone down his imagination.

Turns out that she had a case of really horrible diaper rash. I have no idea how this blistered rash came on so quickly...seriously, there were no symptoms yesterday.

Anyhow, so my day consisted of keeping her butt slathered in diaper rash cream, and running after a half naked child so she wouldn't pee everywhere. I was not successful in that last part. I do believe that our darling baby girl peed in every room of the house today, on some very nice literary works as well, and one of the dining room chairs, but I'll never tell which. And who says the life of a stay at home mom isn't meaningful?

Actually though, in addition to that bit of fun, I'm working on a long term volunteer project. One portion of the project basically involves an independent study course, which I've almost completed. I was talking to my dad today, and was telling him how awesome that I think the program is. We go into quite the discussion about how higher education should be more like the course work for my volunteer program. One thing that sets this course work apart is that you have to have extensive personal experience before becoming a volunteer. I think if more colleges required and experiential facet to their training, that it would be so much more valuable.

In college, I was a Spanish major (as well as a linguistics major). If in addition to going to classes and learning how to read, write, correct grammar, and other such things, I had been required to do some sort of work with the Hispanic community, or have a certain amount of immersion experience, I think that it would have made my studies so much more meaningful. I would have had to commit to my studies in a way that is different from turning in papers and memorizing conjugations or analyzing books.

I did eventually get the experience that I needed to make my studies meaningful when I studied abroad. However, it wasn't a requirement to study abroad, and I definitely took advantage of it more than some of my fellow students did. As I was saying to my dad earlier, I think that when people go to college they are hoping for those meaningful types of practical experience to go along with the book knowledge...and let's face it, busy work. I was hearing on the radio today that colleges are trying to figure out ways to get people to actually finish their programs and graduate. I think that beefing up on the experience portion, and basing courses of study around it would go a long way...

So there you have it, insight in the midst of mopping up urine...how glamorous.

What would have made your college experience more meaningful, and more useful?

Ready March

2008-12-07T22:51:00.004-06:00

This weekend has been down right luxurious. I look forward to those weekends that feel like a good cat stretch, the ones that leave me feeling refreshed and ready for the week. It's amazing to me how being the right amount of busy is the key. When I just veg out for a couple of days, I seem to feel worse, but running around helter skelter is the pits too.

Or maybe I'm feeling better because I just got my glasses fixed...I've had a headache like you wouldn't believe, and I didn't even know it.

This past week has been such a challenge and a joy with babyjama. She is, all at once, completely frustrating, and completely FUN. She seems to be starting to get the concept of humor. Our little ham dances in circles with arms flailing and a huge grin. She flirts with her head cocked to one side and one shoulder shrugged. And she RUNS everywhere, which is cool until she's running away from me into the neighbors yard while I try to catch her to put her in the car.

Right now the challenge is control. Oh, who am I kidding. Control will probably always be the challenge. Isn't that what power struggle is all about? Anyway, the big thing right now is Leo's water bowl. Leo is our Rhodesian Ridgeback who seems to be part kitten and part scooby doo. He's completely neurotic about certain things, and gets scared easily (hey don't judge, Ridgebacks have matriarchal packs...ya know, female dominance). Anyway, a few months ago I realized that Leo was staying away from his food and water bowls because he was freaked that babyjama was playing with them all the time. So I decided to crack down on her a little more. Well, as the months have gone by, it seems that I have gotten a little too lax.

On Monday as I walked past babyjama dipping her toy pacifier into the dog water and then putting it in her mouth...and walked by just rolling my eyes, I realized that something had to change. So, playing in the water bowl is now a time out offense. It seems to actually be working. She has played in the water a LOT less, and there have been fewer time outs as time has gone on. The time out routine is so funny though. When I tell babyjama that she needs to go to her room for time out, she either immediately puts her head down all in a huff and marches to her room (she seems way to little to know how to do that) or I have to pick her up and put her there. All in all, I think it's working well. I'm looking forward to the time when she's verbal so that I can give her consequences that aren't based on a certain amount of time, but rather on a consequence that can be lifted as soon as she changes her behavior.

Poor papajama is beside himself when he hears babyjama cry in her room though. I am not fazed much, but I can tell that for him it's like a knife. It's so funny, because since he is a strict teacher, I thought he was going to be the tough disciplinarian...I guess I underestimated the Daddy-daughter effect.

P.S. Readers, I am actually starting a new blog. Tomorrow my very first post will go live. The blog is called Sustainable Life, and it's over at Work it, Mom! I'll be writing about what works in our family to keep us going. Since I think that sustainability is so much more than making sure something is environmentally friendly, it will be a mixture of family-juggling, the environment, and finances...

Crafty Tuesday Falls Flat

2008-12-02T22:53:00.003-06:00

It's not that I didn't have fun with my mom and sisters this week for crafty Tuesday...It's just that, well, frankly, we're a tad depresso here at the Jama house, and making tiny card stock Christmas trees didn't sound too fun. So, we got four little trees cut out, and two folded, but we're gonna have to assemble them next week...hopefully the cheer will have returned by that time.

In other news, papajama's school got locked down today. When I was on my way to pick him up, I called to let him know that I was running late...he tends to worry. He answered the phone sounding more than a little gruff saying for me to STAY AWAY from the school. Apparently there was some guy out in the woods behind the school with a rifle. Turns out he was just hunting deer (illegally, and might I add recklessly, in the middle of the city, right next to a SCHOOL, with little children, and oh did I mention MY husband nearby).

Although I'm pretty generally in favor of nonviolence, I make exceptions for people who pull that kind of crap. The neighbors around the school sounded unperturbed...apparently he does this OFTEN!?

Speaking of completely morbid things, papajama is now calling himself the number one rat killer in the state. We seem to have attracted some of the little beasts into our garage a while back, due to the hole at the bottom of our garage door, and the fact that we kept our dog food out there in a plastic container. At first we decided to leave the dog food and set traps (so as not to tempt the buggers to try to get into the house)...We found out that this was ineffective when our mechanic noticed that the tiny bastards were chewing through wires and tubes in the car...remember last month when I said the ABS light was on?

At this point we got militant. Dog food is now contained within a completely armored container with snap on lid. We have a dozen traps in the garage, and TONS of rat poison. Papajama did indeed have to do some of the dirty work himself. After one rat absolutely refused to die, and layed coughing blood and wheezing on the floor, papajama had to finish him off with the bebe gun and then the baseball bat. They say your first kill is the hardest...

So now that I've got you fully grossed out, I'm gonna go finish off the pumpkin pie.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

2008-12-01T12:51:00.003-06:00

Sometimes life feels stagnant. As if it has always been this way, and will never change. Good or bad it feels as if we were in a stand still. The world leaders have been the same forever, and inauguration is some day in the distant future. The cool crisp sunny days of fall were going to continue endlessly. Babyjama's 5-word vocab. was going to continue to be our basis for communication until the end of time.

Then, on a dime everything can seem to turn. The five days that papajama was home were fraught with change. This morning (as is one of my customs), I turned on the last few minutes of Rachel Ray to see if she was cooking anything that could be converted to vegetarian fare. But as the picture and sound came on, the Obama press conference was on and he had just named Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State. It's not that I'm surprised with his choice, I mean come on...they've been telegraphing this move for quite a while. However, I was struck with the fact that time is moving forward. Changes are occurring regardless of anything that is happening in my own life.

Thursday morning, papajama and I awoke early. Happy to be readying ourselves for the day's festivities, however, the air was warm outside and I remember remarking to him that it didn't feel like Thanksgiving. Then yesterday as we drove to my parents' house for breakfast, papajama stopped mid-sentence as he noticed that I was staring out the window with a glazed over look on my face. We had had a sprinkling of snow overnight, and the powdery white on the deep jade evergreens and on the spindly maple branches forced me headlong into winter wonderland visions complete with the soundtrack.

Later on by the fire (imaginary), babyjama's face lit up when she awoke from her nap to the living room all decked out with a Christmas tree, complete with lights and ornaments (even a tiny gingerbread man that she calls "beebee"). It brought to mind how last year she learned how to roll over beneath the Christmas tree, and how so much has transformed about her to create the toddler that she is now. And although I aided in those changes, I didn't cause them, and I definitely can't take credit for them.

All of this change and transformation surrounding me has brought some insight this way (along with making me feel like a nostalgic fool). So much of my life I try to orchestrate, and yet I have so little control. Okay, that's hardly insight...I mean everybody knows that. However, what was new for me was that every time that I try and get the perfect outcome out of something that I have absolutely no control over, I'm taking responsibility for the outcome, which causes me stress, which makes me feel guilty, which makes me vow to be better, which causes more stress, which causes more perfectionism...and on and on and on.

Every time we go out of town this seems to happen. I stress over the packing. I want to make sure that everyone has all the right stuff. So I pack for every scenario that I can think of. I get myself in a tizzy pacing from room to room and yelling to papajama things like "But what if it's unseasonably cold in June?". Then when we arrive I find out that I was so caught up packing for every kind of weather, but we're going to eat spaghetti 5 times, and I only brought two bibs. Obviously I'm not at fault for not knowing what we're going to eat, but I take responsibility for it as if I should have known, as if it's my fault for not knowing what to expect.

I think most people get that they don't make the weather...and I've always understood that too, but the other things. The unexpected occurrences, the relationship fallout, the seemingly coincidental freak accidents. Somehow I feel that I should be able to dodge them. Anticipate their arrival. Analyze eight moves in advance and dance to the finish line. Instead, I'm giving myself permission to not have all the answers, and therefore the permission to not take all the blame.

The Boiling Point

2008-11-29T20:37:00.005-06:00

I feel constricted. Shut up tight. If I spew my guts for all to see, I'm a selfish bitch. If I don't, I feel less than free. I come here for entertainment, fun, a creative outlet, an interaction of ideas, and a cathartic release.

As I'm sure everyone has already guessed, the nasty anonymous comments all (or mostly all) came from papajama's family. I was able to track the IP address to the exact street where the comments came from...so unless the neighbors have a vested interest in my blog, my in-laws wanted to cut me down to size or half size as the case may be.

One part of me is really sad to see the comments in cold hard print, but the rest is relieved. Maybe now we can get down to the real work of getting through these problems. I have felt your animosity for a long time, but now that it's out in the open, maybe you can stop denying it. I would like to come to a place of reconciliation, but as long as the back-stabbing and the covert shit continues...that's never going to happen.

I stand by my posts. I like to write them, and I like to share them with others. I'm extremely careful about what I post...there are no saints living in this house, and I don't wish to make anyone out to be a demon.

I first wrote about the family situation for many reasons that I don't feel that I need to justify. Tonight I came to a decision though. In light of the "anonymous" comments that have deepened this rift, I'm not going to be posting on this subject for the time being. I have two reasons for this. 1) I feel that the "anonymous" commenters are doing themselves more harm than good, and do not want to feel that I have set some sort of irresistible trap for them to get caught in.
2) It's taking up far too much of my energy. I have been sick over this conflict for months, thinking about it and worrying about it. And the fact that my feelings and energies are not being as carefully considered by the other parties' lets me know that my time is not being well spent. My original purpose in posting was to let all around me know that it's a difficult issue that I'm spending countless hours on, and to invite others to commiserate, give advice, etc. I think it's too bad that you couldn't hear that, and I hope that someday you learn what it means to give and receive forgiveness.

To my supporters:
I can't tell you how much your time and effort has meant to me. Your stories, your wit, and your humor have lifted my spirits, and kept the discussion at a bearable level of intensity. Thank you for being who you are. I only hope that I can someday return the favor.

Witchy-Poo Rises Again

2008-11-28T15:40:00.005-06:00

Cackle Cackle!

Here I sit on my broomstick...with er...my laptop (this is a very precarious position to be in). I'm stuffed from all the bon-bons I've been throwing back today...ya know since I don't actually DO anything productive with my time. Nope...I don't budget, or keep the house organized, or clean, or take in freelance work, or volunteer.

I won't go into a tirade about how difficult it is to be a mother, and a wife, and how now that I have kids, a blog is a great way to meet new people, and stay in touch with my friends...because obviously I'm just making excuses for being a low-life scum bag of a human being, and I don't deserve to have contact with the outside world...unless it's through playdates, or some approved of corporate job. Thank you, point taken.

As a side note, I am seriously considering not allowing anonymous comments anymore...Any thoughts?

Now onto the business of today. After shopping for my absolutely gorgeous (to die for) tiara with JNo today, I took the broomstick express lane to bypass all of the black Friday traffic and went to the local natural kids store for some shopping for babyjama (papajama came along too, of course). She is now the owner of the cutest black leather mary janes in the whole world. Her first few steps in actual shoes were hillarious. We've been using soft soled shoes exclusively on her since the time that she started walking. Anyway, she looked like she was trying to step over something really big for a while. It. Was. Precious.

When we got up to the register to pay, I was fumbling with our budget envelopes marked with things like "tiara", "diamonds for mama", and "bon-bons"...or was it gifts, and babyjama's clothes?...Oh who can remember?! The shop owner took note and asked if we were on the Dave Ramsey program. I grinned and said that we've been happily doing the budgeting system for over a year now.

The comment in the shop sent papajama and I wandering down memory lane, and started up a conversation about how the hard work of budgeting is so worth the results. Money used to be our least favorite topic as a couple, and it has become one of our favorites. We have goals, we have dreams, we are grounded in reality, and we have the discipline to make it happen.

Papajama mentioned that the holidays used to be such a stressful time for him financially, because he was going further and further into debt every month, and the holidays just compounded the problem. Now we budget a certain amount for the holidays, and it takes the stress away. And the best part is, it's working! We're at the point now where we can taste the end of the payment cycles. Our car will be paid off at the end of this month which will leave us with nothing to pay off except our student loans.

Okay, sorry for the long budgeting tangent, but I've gotta go. My ass is starting to chafe from this broomstick, and I need to go beat my maid and make sure that the poor are going hungry, oh yeah, and that my tiara is nice and polished.

xoxo

The Wicked Witch of the Midwest

Blood, Sweat, AND Tears

2008-11-25T11:06:00.007-06:00

Last night I cried.

It's been a while since I cried, but last night I did.

Yesterday was such a fun day. The biggest holiday that my family celebrates is coming up on Thursday. Of course it's Thanksgiving, but our family also celebrates Guru Gaddi day at that time. If you look up Guru Gaddi day, you'll see that it actually already passed in October, but our family decided to move it years ago so that we could have a holiday that we actually could all get together for. We give gifts, and have a Thanksgiving feast, and generally have a wonderful time. My mom makes up a new game every year to make it difficult for us to get our gifts. Word has it that this year will be jeopardy.

So back to yesterday, my dad and I ran a bunch of Guru Gaddi errands, and got the chance to have a wonderful lunch together, complete with falafel, stuffed grape leaves and those little spinach and feta pastries that I'm not even going to try to spell. I came home with all kinds of warm fuzzies, and soon after went to get papajama from work. In the car, he told me a bit of information regarding the ongoing conflict with his family.

For months, we've been attempting to bring about a peace with papajama's mother. Over the few years that I've known my mother-in-law, I have attempted to gain her approval while still doing what I know to be best for my family. Sometimes I feel like the tension could electrocute all of us, but so far all of our brains are still in tact. I won't go into all of the gory details of the past 3 years that we've been having problems, because as I become clearer and clearer on the situation, I realize that the details don't matter. The fact is, that she doesn't think I'm good enough for her son, and she doesn't trust her son to make the right choices.

This has led to tons of arguments, power struggles, covert operations, mind control, and just a little electric shock therapy...okay, maybe not that last one.

Now we're at an impass. Papajama and I feel that in order to stop this cycle we have to actually work things out. She wants to go on as if nothing has transpired. At least I think that's what she wants...I'm not completely sure on that...her last e-mail said that she wanted to be a mother to her son and a grandmother to babyjama...she didn't mention being a MIL, so maybe she wants to go on as if I don't exist. Either way, since all of the outward problems have centered around me being the wrong kind of woman, and papajama being the wrong kind of man, we either have to eat a bunch of manure and smile or something has to change in the relationship. Papajama's mom has decided that she'd rather not change anything, and so we are left with the unpleasant choice of going on as things were or not having a relationship until something changes.

I know that the last few paragraphs have sounded rather flip, as if I don't care one way or the other how this all turns out, but the fact is that I do care a LOT. I love papajama's family. They can be such fun people, and I can tell that they really love each other, even if they have odd ways of showing it.

So now we get to the crying. I was blocking babyjama's sweater, and patting myself on the back for having so much to report for crafty Tuesday. Papajama was sitting and keeping me company, and we were talking. Papajama and I have decided that we're going to wait things out and see if there's any way to work things out. This means that we're facing the very real possibility of not spending Christmas with his mom which would be the first time that this has ever happened in their family.

I told him that I know that his family sees me as the one who is ripping the family apart, and even though that isn't true, his mother is never going to forgive me for that (commence blubbering). I want so badly just to be accepted as part of the family, in both word and deed. My heart hurts every time I think about it, and at this point it seems completely unattainable.

Crying and working with straight pins is not something that I recommend, but I got the sweater all blocked and it's almost dry.

Happy Crafty Tuesday Everyone!

Little Mama Girl

2008-11-20T22:54:00.002-06:00

A picture as promised. Happy weekend all!

Running with a Purpose

2008-11-20T22:29:00.003-06:00

Dear Babyjama,

It's been quite a while since I tried writing one of these letters to you. Lately you've been doing so many cute things that I can't resist documenting a few of them. In the past couple of days you have started requesting that I help you put on certain items of clothing, as if you are playing dress up. You point and shriek at whatever item it is. Yesterday it was your baby-sized college hoodie with your eyelet sweater over the top...have I mentioned that you have style?

I'm amazed every day with how much language you are picking up. Your words are still few, but when I say cheese you run to the fridge, and if we talk about changing your diaper you run to get a rag (even though you can't reach them yet), and talking about brushing your teeth gets a huge grin and a purposeful walk into the kitchen (even if you clamp your jaws shut when I actually try and brush).

Oh yes, and then there are your big girl activities. Today while daddy and I worked on dinner you sat yourself in your rocker and read from Rolling Stone...It must have been very funny because you couldn't stop giggling. Tonight I was talking to your daddy about your sling, and you brought it over to me so that you could put your baby in it and wear her around. After a couple of tries, we switched to your bear in the sling since baby is still just a little to big for you to carry around. I couldn't help myself and took tons of pictures of you carrying the bear around and will have to post them here when I'm not so tired. Your conversational skills improve every day, and although I only understand a fraction of what you say, your intonation and facial expressions let me know that all conversations with you are matters of great importance.

Speaking of talking, you have begun to use your first two word combination. "No Leo" is your new anthem. You say it to Leo at appropriate times, and not so appropriate times, and sometimes I'm positive that it's a demonstration that you're not the lowest (wo)man on the totum pole.

Finally, I'd just like to say that although you are a woman on a mission most of the day, fists clenched by your side as you tilt forward and run headlong into each activity, or as you almost skip along with your arms curled in like little bouncing wings, you take so much time out of your busy schedule to cuddle with your mama. I appreciate every sweet little pat, every sideways smile given with a half shrug, and all the sweet kisses complete with a "mwah" from you.

I love you baby girl,
Mama

Lessons from Kindergarten

2008-11-19T22:19:00.004-06:00

In kindergarten, like most little girls, I had a best friend. She was the tallest little girl in our class...along with the roundest, and sometimes the meanest. She took a liking to me the very first day of school. I don't remember too much about her other than that she had a loud voice, wore her hair in two tightly braided pigtails, and she was the daughter of one of the teachers at my school.

I used to love coloring with this little girl, and that's about all that I remember, except for that she turned into my first bully. A few months into the school year, I remember my mom tucking me into bed, as I started to cry. I said that I didn't want to go to school anymore. When she asked why, I related to her that my friend had forbade me from being friends with the other girls in my class. I felt trapped, and didn't know what to do...and when you're five, that means it's time to quit school and move on with your life as a perpetual semi-literate coloring hobo.

Luckily, my Mom had a different plan. After a little convincing, she got me to agree to sitting down and talking things out with my friend and the teacher, and I finished kindergarten afterall. I didn't switch classrooms. We didn't use a line of tape to separate her side of the classroom from mine. And it was all over very quickly really, and I remember thinking that it hadn't been that big of a deal actually.

Now that I'm an adult, it's disappointing how many things go un-worked-out. Tonight, papajama and I caught a few minutes of that new show Gary Unmarried. As the laugh track cracked up over some barbed joke between the ex-husband and the ex-wife, papajama said "I hate how they portray divorce on TV". I don't have too much first hand knowledge of the subject, but that really hit me. If there were anything left to laugh about, wouldn't they still be married? My American History teacher in college gave our class a description of what happens before a divorce. He said that couples get divorced when the individuals get to the point where they perceive that everything that the other person does is intended to do harm to their partner. That has really stuck with me over the years, and when I have a hard time in my marriage or even in other relationships I think of this, and most times I realize that this person does not purposely intend to harm me.

It isn't just divorce though. I've seen many friendships go by the wayside over the years. In college, some of my friends lived together in an apartment, and one of them fell on hard times financially. She was under so much pressure that she started leaving nasty notes around the house for her roommates. It would have been a great idea for her to not take out her misery on her friends, but it also would have been well within their duties as friends to come to her and talk to her about her behavior.

So often, people don't go to the source of the hurt, and it all festers. One thing that I've never understood was why women get upset at the other woman when their husbands or boyfriends cheat. The logic of that has always been beyond me. He's the one who broke his promise, and no amount of scratching her eyes out is going to change that. In fact, putting all kinds of energy into how to attack she-who-isn't-the-problem...seems to detract from the real issue anyway. Ya know, being in a relationship with someone who is untrustworthy?

This sounds like such a simple thing, but so many of my girlfriends have thought I was some kind of weirdo for going to the source when I had a problem. My roommates in college thought I was some kind of knight in shining armor when I called up our landlord and complained about the slow cleanup of our basement (when the sewage system flooded) or when they overcharged us for lawn services. My college boyfriend was a little put off when I told him that I blamed only him for cheating on me, and not the young lady. The head of the ashram (kind of like our version of a church) here in town didn't know what to think when I called him up at seventeen and told him that there were some issues that we needed to work out.

Some of those situations ended favorably, and some didn't. I tend to think that adults need to take much of the advice that we give to our children and just get down to the work of talking things out. Of course our issues are more complex than those of school children, but I've heard that the emotions that we have at the age of three are the strongest of our lifetime. I still vividly remember the fantasy of being free from going back to school, and never having to face my bully. Sometimes it's still so tempting to give up and hide, but then I remember that there's no complication free place on earth.

How do you deal with conflict in your life?

Crafty Tuesday: Getting Over the Humbug Hump

2008-11-18T22:01:00.003-06:00

Yes, it's time again for crafty Tuesday. And actually, this Tuesday was more crafty than usual. I have a little secret...Okay, maybe it's not exactly a secret since I've posted it here before. But here goes. Despite my crunchy mama exterior. I deeply desire to BE Martha Stewart. I drool over her creativity, her polished perfectness when it comes to everything from china to desserts to holiday decorations. And sad as it may be, I also subscribe to her magazine. Actually, the magazine subscription was a gift from papajama (but I asked for it specifically).

Interestingly enough though, I've never completed even ONE project from the magazine though. Every month I carefully turn the pages, read the directions, gaze at the pictures, but by the time the next issue has come I've done zip about the things that I loved from the previous month...that was, until today.

This past weekend, my little sister ended up spending the day at our house. The subject of holiday decorating came up, and I mentioned that in order to get into the holiday spirit (namely Christmas) I needed to figure out some traditions that would be unique to our family...since the whole Christmas thing is still new to me, and mostly I still feel like I'm celebrating someone else's holiday. And so, as part of these traditions, we devised a crafting plan. We are getting together every week during this holiday season to do some decorating crafts. And quite fittingly, we've designated Tuesday night for crafting. So here it is, my very first completed Martha craft*.

*I do need to let you all know though, that while this tiny X-mas tree is technically a Martha craft, but the directions were awful. I'm hoping that this isn't the norm for the craft directions in the magazine, but I do have half a mind to write a strongly worded letter or something...hmmm.

Predator

2008-11-14T14:07:00.002-06:00

Today started out like any other day...well sorta...it was a little different in that last night was one of the worst nights of sleep ever, but that's beside the point. Papajama got up as usual before the butt crack of dawn. Did his morning thing, and then let me sleep in a little (afterall we did have a marathon of night time parenting last night). I even had time to tie my full turban with little extra rush. I remember admiring it this morning...thinking that I had done an exceptionally good job considering the shortness on time. Anyway, the only thing really different about this morning was that I needed to take some books back to the library right after I dropped papajama off at work. No biggie, babyjama was happy in her car seat and I was happily sitting in my seat listening to my daily dose of NPR. We pulled up to a stoplight that was across the street for a liquor store which made me remember that I hadn't locked the car doors. So I locked them.

As I started to near the next stop light I noticed a big older bronco type truck trying to keep pace with our little white sedan. Then I heard the truck honk. A young man about my own age was driving in the left lane and waving and smiling at me. Instinctively I waved the steering wheel wave. At the next stop light I checked out of the corner of my eye to see if this guy was still looking at me. He was, and this time he waved and mouthed pull over. I was really confused. Did I know this guy?...He looked possibly familiar...maybe. Was he going to tell me something was wrong with the car? Our Anti-Lock Brake light came on the other day...

When the light turned green, and I hadn't responded I didn't know if he would just assume that I wasn't going to, but instead he pulled out quickly in front of me and turned into the gas station at the next corner. At the last second I decided I would pull into the parking lot. A friendly looking slightly redneck seeming young man climbed out of the tan and rust colored truck.

A couple of years ago, I had a couple of young girls come to my door and pull a bait and switch on me. Luckily the young man that they brought into my house had nothing more sinister on his mind than to sell me a vacuum. I've never forgotten the lesson of never trusting someone I don't know with my safety...especially if they look friendly. As the man approached my car, I decided to leave the engine running and only open the window a crack. He was smiling, but there was something fake about him, a little too cheerful to be talking to someone he didn't know, a little too much swagger, the slightest bit of hidden hesitance.

A smiling face doesn't fool me anyway. The two boys who held me underwater and tried to take off my swimsuit when I was in middle school smiled and laughed all the way up until I tried to take a chunk out of one of their arms with my teeth.

This morning, I called out of the cracked window as the man approached my car"Do I know you?" Now I wished that I could somehow force him to not come any closer.

"No." He said. "I just saw you driving and thought you were attractive and...but you're probably taken aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." I replied as did a little nervous laugh, and I suddenly thought that I had been very stupid to pull over in the first place.

He waved good bye and got back into his truck as I started to pull away. After I left the parking lot he pulled up next to me again. I did everything in my power not to look over, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him blow me a kiss. Now I was really creeped out. I swirved a little as he blew the kiss because I was scared. He soon sped up, passed me, and turned down the street where I had been planning to turn.

I have an extremely active imagination with a very keen ability for paranoia, and all of a sudden I started thinking that maybe he was stalking me. Possibly he had a friend in the parking lot of that gas station who had followed me out (and visions of Kelsey Smith danced in my head). I drove down a few side streets to make sure no one was following me...Hoping that this wouldn't be the time that I got a flat tire, etc. When I was pretty sure no one was following me, I went to the library and then went straight home.

It's a small thing, but it really shook me up. What kind of person would try and hit on a woman in religious garb at 8 AM with her baby in the car. As my father said, what about that communicates "available". I did go ahead and check our city's most wanted web site earlier today, and I kept the car in the garage all morning (before I went to the grocery store).

Have you ever had any strange interactions like this? Do you get scared easily? And what sets off your fears?

All Politic'd Out

2008-11-06T22:03:00.002-06:00

I know I promised you all a post for yesterday, but the truth is that I felt like I had a hangover that was two years in the making yesterday. I'm so happy that Barack Obama won the presidency. In fact, every time I think about it I get all weepy eyed. But good LORD am I glad it's over. I feel like I just gave birth or something, and talking about politics anymore for a little while makes me want to gouge out an eye (ya know kind of like when someone asks you when you're gonna have the next one and you have a 2 day old babe in arms).

Papajama and I had a brief conversation the other day about how difficult it is to relax now. We've been so keyed up waiting for the election, straining with our entire beings to figure out our role. And now we don't know what the next challenge is. Of course there are new challenges ahead, but figuring out a direction is exhausting...so I for one am taking at least a few days off from thinking about the future of our country.

However, I am not taking a few days off from mothering...that's not allowed. Babyjama has been having a tough few days. She ended up having a cold last week, and is still fighting off the green boogers (well, I'm fighting them off for her using one long index fingernail + tissue at a time...I know, ew). Also, she's been throwing whopper tantrums about the most frustrating things. She has been getting up on top of the table, and when I stop her she flips out. Or she get into the nasty dish of dog water and when I put myself between her and the dish, guess what happens....

Anyway, today I put some things together. I realized that she's not being stimulated enough and needs to be able to really dig her hands into some activities. So today when she started a new activity of going and getting dirty laundry to put in the dog water, I got proactive and got her her very own bowl full of water and a huge pile of cleaning rags that she could play with in the water (I promise they were clean). I watched as she swirled the scraps of cloth around in the warm water, then filled the bowl all the way up with clothes, and then strained to lift the (now heavy) clothes out and put them on the floor. I think she set a new record for how long she could spend on an activity. I normally would be worried about the mess, but after she was all finished we just went in and got a used towel and mopped up all the water. I think the floor was actually cleaner when we got all finished. It's funny to me how I've been resisting her so much lately, and the activity today really showed me that I don't have to say "no" all the time...just figure out how to make some things into suitable activities.

I don't think I'm a rigid mom. Actually last night my mama was saying how much less rigid I am about letting babyjama just dive into her food than she was with us. But I could really loosen up on some things.

Do you ever feel like you need to loosen up? Oh yeah, and are you sick of election talk?

It's Over

2008-11-04T23:52:00.002-06:00

So I've been spending the last several hours cleaning, cooking for guests, and glued to the TV. I'm way to tired for a real post (as we were at the polling place at 5:45 this morning...and 133rd in line).

I just have two words for everyone.

President Obama

It still hasn't sunk in yet.

Yet Another Racism Post: Schools

2008-11-03T19:45:00.003-06:00

Over the weekend I've been trying to come up with a follow up to last week's posts with all of the passion that has been going back and forth with my commenters. I'm thrilled that you guys are getting so into this, and on the other hand I'm really disappointed that we don't seem to be getting anywhere.

My dad has always called me the diplomat of the family. I guess that's because I have an ability to see both sides of an argument, even when I disagree with one side or both sides. In this case, I can see the case for racism being a driver for putting kids into private school. I'm not saying that this is the case for most people, but I could see that happening. Unfortunately, racism is a part of our culture, and to act as if it doesn't affect what schools children attend is naive.

On the other hand, it's true that some of our public schools are absolutely not preparing children to be competitive in the job market. Some parents feel that their only option is to put them into a private school that performs better. I can't say that I wouldn't be tempted to put my precious child in a school that sparks and challenges her over one that is teaching to a ridiculous standardized test.

On the other hand, we then get back to the issue of poverty, and that has a whole lot to do with race. I'll go back to my 2005 stats for this. Nearly 25% of the African American population is below the poverty line. Approximately 20% of the Hispanic population is as well. While 8% of the white population is. One commenter last week was quick to point out that there are more white people receiving assistance than minorities. That's true, however I'm talking about percentage of population. Not sheer numbers. To put it another way, 1 in 4 black people live in poverty while less than 1 in 10 white people do.

We'll assume that children living below the poverty line don't have enough money to go to private schools. In addition, that means that a disproportionate amount of Black or Hispanic children can't afford to go to private school. In addition, every time a child is pulled out of public school to go to private school, that is less funding that that public school is receiving (since much of the money they receive is based on attendance). And some of the resources that the school loses are not tangible. Many of the parents who pull their kids out of public schools are extremely involved parents, so the school loses the benefit of having that support as well.

Don't even get me started on the parents who move farther and farther out to the suburbs. When I started at my high school, one of the first things that I learned in my American History class was that Kansas City (my city) is a case study for white flight. My teacher told us that Kansas City has an extremely high volume of people who are doing extremely long commutes from outlying communities to their jobs downtown. He said that these people were moving further and further away so that they didn't have to live with black people. I didn't really believe him at the time, but now I realize that it was a little simplistic but fundamentally true. I listen to people talk in the grocery stores. When the subject of the area school districts come up, it's interesting to hear what code words people will use to mean that a district has gotten too black. The district has "gotten rough", "become ghetto", "turned bad", "gone downhill".

And the truth is that as many of the well-to-do families leave, the schools do go down. Without people paying the property taxes that help keep the schools afloat they're doomed.

I'm sure not all moving farther out to the suburbs is racially motivated. Just as moving children to private schools isn't. However, I happen to think that both of those things happen to adversely affect those of lower socio-economic status. And minorities are more likely to fall in that lower socio-economic bracket.

My point is that it is your right to decide whether or not to put a child in private school. However, you have an effect on others no matter what choice you make, and the choice to move kids to a private school, or out to the suburbs does hurt minority children.

I hope I'm not going to get a barage of comments saying that I'm calling a large portion of the population racist....because, you mistake me if that's what you think I'm saying. What I am saying is that none of us live in a vacuum, and when large parts of our society with lots of buying power decide to opt out of the public system...Or have an exclusive suburban public system of their own...Well it affects others, and guess who a large portion of those others are?

Think about it. If I'm wrong, tell me. If I'm right, think about your choices and how you feel about them. But either way, take some time to consider all of the points before you respond.

The Gigantic Cavernous Space Between

2008-10-31T11:37:00.004-06:00

Phew, the debate rages on. I have to admit that when I first decided to write about Sarah Palin, I never expected it to turn into a huge debate like this. It kinda makes my stomach hurt in all honesty. I get all tied up in knots and impassioned as I read comments and other blogs. Our country is so obviously divided with seemingly little common ground. The whole thing makes me sad and makes me feel very very small and insignificant. Yet, here I am again today posting on these issues that, I feel, need hashing out.

Yesterday and anonymous commenter asked me point blank how I would fix our broken systems. This is partially what got me all tied in knots. I see problems. Real problems. However, I don't even hope to be able to come up with all of the solutions to domestic policy problems on my blog. I do have some specific ideas though, and beyond that, a common theme that I think would help solve some of these problems.

The school system is an especially easy subject for me to speak on because I've witnessed so much of what is wrong about it. The school system was by no means perfect when I went through myself, but it has taken a major turn for the worse. One thing that No Child Left Behind focuses on is the problem of passing children along to the next grade before they have learned what this grade offers. The institution of the testing regulations in order to receive federal funding has not solved this problem, and it has not improved the learning that students are receiving. Instead, schools and school districts are trying to wrap themselves around the tests, focusing on them, hammering on them, squeezing them to try to get a little much needed funding out.

Also yesterday, Karin mentioned that she agreed with me that public schools for the most part aren't doing their job, and that she put much of the blame on the schools themselves and the parents. I'll agree that some responsibility falls with the schools and parents, but there's also a problem with the one-size-fits-all education that NCLB puts forth. The tests are not good measures of what the kids know. The schools then tailor teaching more and more toward the test. The kids find no spark in learning. It's a vicious cycle, and I think a large part of the problem stems from NCLB being a huge band aid that didn't deal with the root cause of the problem.

In the case of education, there are many root causes that need to be dealt with one by one. One example, is the problem of students not being sparked to learn in the classroom. There are a number of solutions to this problem including using different teaching methods (Montessori would be a great start), transitioning from a traditional classroom setting to one that would be more conducive to different learning styles, allowing more creativity from students, and getting parents more involved in the learning process. I don't think that there is necessarily one solution to the problem. However, I don't think that the problems in the schools can be fixed with legislation alone, because I don't see this as a problem of legislation. Sure, the NCLB act is flawed...I'll make no excuses to cover that up, but any legislation that was put in place to fix everything would be flawed.

I was talking to my dad today and he was sharing some insights that he had gained from his philosophy class this week. I'm not even going to try to quote him, but he was saying that they recently were studying the work of a certain Buddhist. This man gave a rather succinct description of karma. And here is my clunky paraphrase.

Karma is not a system of punishment and rewards that is rained down by God who is judging every move we make. Instead, Karma is a system of laws that is stable and unchanging. Therefore, if x happens then y will happen. If x doesn't happen then y will not happen. If x happens then y will fail to happen. If x fails to happen then y will happen. At this point I feel like I should be solving a theorem from geometry and say...Therefore, since x and y are parallel, the angle of intersection with z must be 33 degrees. But I digress. There were a few other versions of the formula that I'm not remembering at the moment. I promise I'm not throwing in philosophical mumbo-jumbo for no good reason. I see a real connection here, so stick with me.

In order to truly fix what ails our society (including the schools) it's important to be able to figure out those relationships of causation between the choices that we (as a society and as individuals) make and choose our path from there. My dad's epiphany was that once we clearly view a relationship of causation and see the path that one must take, that taking that path is an act of compassion.

The only way that I know to find the relationship of causation is through meditation. There are lots of ways, but all of them include pure and honest introspection. It's not easy for any of us to look inside see how our actions are affecting the world around us. My larger point in the last post was that without knowing it, many of us are taking stances that are causing suffering to others. True charity asks nothing in return. As a society we tend to forget that the innocent babe of today is the 4th grader of tomorrow and the unwed welfare mother of the future. Punishing someone for not being what our society considers to be a hard worker is punishing them for becoming who our society has turned them into.

Whether we want to admit it or not, a failure of one person in the world is a failure of all of us.

Is Being Against Welfare Racist?

2008-10-30T08:10:00.003-06:00

I spurred quite a little flurry of activity with my political posts last week. I'll wait while you go get up to speed.

Wow, a really wide range of opinions there. I think it's necessary to mention that I do know pipsylou personally, and can't imagine her voting based on race. Nope, not in a million years.

I do however think that the issue of race is very linked with the issue of welfare. Proportionally speaking, blacks followed by hispanics have the highest percentage of their populations below the poverty line. I just did some research and that number was at nearly a quarter for blacks in 2005, and about 21% for hispanics while for whites it was around 8%.

Another interesting thing about those numbers is that the study said that the poverty level for the minorities remained the same during 2004-2005, but decreased for whites.

I don't think that a lot of white Americans realize that a vote against welfare is disproportionately affecting those communities.

Recently, papajama and I have been watching a show called "The Wire". It's an HBO series about crime in the city of Baltimore. One of the seasons focuses on a group of friends in middle school. I know that the show is fiction, but I can see the scenarios that played out happening to anyone in that situation. I had never REALLY understood how the inner city can trap kids.

Absolutely the system is broken. Our school programs don't work, our social services programs don't work, our health care system doesn't work. However, I think that the republican agenda (vouchers, cutting welfare, getting rid of medicaid, etc.) will disproportionately hurt minorities, and will hurt the country as a whole. I think it's fair to be distrustful of government (there is absolutely a ton of corruption there), but I distrust private industry that is propped up by government even more. For example, the insurance companies receive premiums from customers, tax breaks from the gov, plus other incentives/loopholes/whatever to make them the beasts that they are today. They are for profit, so they're always looking at the bottom line. I don't think that it's possible to achieve system wide health care that way, and I do think that every person has a right to that.

So is being against welfare racist? Gosh, papajama and I were having a discussion about this a few days ago, and he says that its socio-economic-status-ism...but unintentionally so. I think that some people are against welfare because they are racist, but I think that more than that it's a problem of not being able to see yourself in another's shoes. I think that many of us can't imagine what our lives would be like if the only meal that we ate during the day was a school lunch. How different our lives would be if we didn't have a stable home environment complete with electricity and a quiet place to study. How difficult verging on impossible it is if you have parents addicted to drugs, alcohol, etc.

Yesterday I got in the car, and a reporter on NPR was interviewing a man who said that he had never voted for a democrat and probably never would. He was saying that everyone in America has the same opportunities as everyone else, and that the government shouldn't have to take care of people. I was shaking my head as I listened. Not because I thought he was wrong (which I do), but because I knew that he actually believed what he was saying. Many people's eyes are closed to the suffering that goes on in our country, and don't understand that the solution isn't as simple as go to school, get a job, and work your way out of it. I guess that's the answer to my question too...It's not as simple as if you vote against welfare, you don't like black people.

Anyone else have thoughts on this?

Itchy Fingers

2008-10-28T21:45:00.002-06:00

Happy crafty Tuesday everyone! I'm working on the second sleeve to babyjama's sweater. I can't wait to finish it and move on to the next project. I've had a bad case of not having patience to finish projects for years. That's probably why I still have a friendship bracelet that I never finished making in highschool, a couple of unfinished crosstitch samplers, half finished curtains in the basement, and a 10 inch long afghan from my middle school days. I come by this attribute honestly (you should see my mama's collection of unfinished crafts).

I know I'll be so glad to get this sweater done, and I'll kick myself if I don't do it while it still fits babyjama, but there is part of me that's itching to jump into something else. The chocolate yarn for the pants that I want to make her is calling out to me, the yarn shop hasn't seen my face in a couple of months and I have craft money to burn, and believe it or not our stove could use a good scrub (I know that last one isn't a craft, but pretty much anything will distract me at this point).

I'm trudging along anyway...

I finished the first sleeve and got all of this done on the second this weekend, but sometimes even progress isn't enough to keep me focused on the here and now. There's a cheesy metaphor for life in there somewhere, but how annoying is that?

Dear readers, Thank you all for the comments on my last post. I really appreciated them. I think that's a record number of responses for my little corner of the blogosphere. The discussion that got started was awesome, and I hope that we're able to do it again some time soon. Oh, and in case you haven't read her latest post, Monkey Girl has an important (related) reminder for everyone.

A Gray World: My Response to Anonymous

2008-10-21T13:13:00.003-05:00

I'm interrupting crafty Tuesday yet again, due to some flack that I received for my last post. I felt that it was important to respond to my anonymous commenter.

Dear Anonymous Commenter,

I can't think of much that is more upsetting than to call another human being a baby killer. I'm curious as to whether or not you actually think that I woke up one morning and thought "hmmm...today I'll vote for a candidate who will pass legislation that will torture and kill little babies."? I have heard Barrack Obama speak on the issue of abortion, and I do agree with what I have heard. I don't see abortion as a black and white issue. Many young women get pregnant unintentionally, and many of them are unequipped to be parents. The children of these unequipped mothers are very likely to become unequipped (as their own mothers were) at preventing pregnancy and at parenting, and this is a vicious cycle that is perpetuating itself throughout society. There are many reasons why people seek abortions Senator Obama said in the final presidential debate that he voted against the bill that you referred to because it did not allow for exceptions for the mother's health, and that he voted for a bill that did allow for exceptions for the mother's health, and so that was already on the books when this piece of legislation came up for a vote. I'm quite sure that this answer will not satisfy you, but since you brought it up those are my opinions.

In reference to socialism, there are many countries around the world who have socialized medicine. To name a few: France, England, Canada, Norway, etc. None of these countries are promised everything and receive nothing as Russia did. Oh, and just so you know, Russia was a communist nation, not a socialist one. We happen to have socialized police and firefighters. Before our fire fighters were socialized, houses that hadn't paid for services were allowed to burn. Someday I hope that we look back at the way that we used to do medicine for profit and realize how silly that was too. Interestingly enough, I was watching the program This Week (George Stephanopolis' political show) on Sunday and I thought it was interesting that Newt Gingrich pointed out that the nationalization of banks did not happen under a democratic president (as many conservatives feared that it would under Kerry or Gore), but under George W. Bush.

I'm no economist, and don't ever hope to be an expert in that area, however I am a well informed voter. I do know that there is no one that is innocent when it comes to the financial turmoil. Republicans are responsible for deregulation, and both democrats and republicans are responsible for taking large campaign contributions from the large banks. The large banks are responsible for having bad lending practices. The small banks are responsible for having predatory lending practices followed by selling bad loans to the big guys. And everyday Americans are responsible for spending money that they didn't have. Yep, we're all in this one together.

As for your last assertion, that you hope that the world comes to an end soon, wow. You have really illustrated the point that I was (perhaps not so eloquently) trying to make in my last post. There is a divisiveness in our nation and in our world. So many people are set on their point of view to the point that they hope and wish that the world would come to an end before we have to deal with the issues that face us. It seems to me that if we are unable to have a civil discussion with one another, let alone be able to come together to solve some of the world's problems, then you are probably right...it is better that the world end. However, I am willing and happy to do what it takes to talk out our differences and do what is necessary to have a wonderful world for everyone to raise their children in. The way that you worded your comment though, makes me doubt whether you are willing to do that though. I feel sad to think of a world in which all is black or white. Good or evil. Totally right or totally wrong. The more that I dissect issues, the closer that I look at things, the more shades of gray that I see. If you are interested, there are a couple of books written from the Christian perspective that you might enjoy checking out. One is called God's Politics: Why the Right Gets it Wrong and the Left Doesn't Get it by Jim Wallis. The other is Seeing Gray in a World of Black and White: Thoughts on Religion, Morality, and Politics by Adam Hamilton. They are both favorites of my husband.

I welcome open discussion with all.

Sincerely,
A Mother for Change in Missouri

Real America: Letter to Sarah Palin

2008-10-19T17:13:00.004-05:00

Dear Governor Palin,

I am writing to you as a concerned citizen of the United States of America. You see, I'm troubled by the tone that your campaign message is taking. Yesterday in North Carolina, you said:

"We believe that the best of America is not all in Washington, D.C. We believe" -- here the audience interrupted Palin with applause and cheers -- "We believe that the best of America is in these small towns that we get to visit, and in these wonderful little pockets of what I call the real America, being here with all of you hard working very patriotic, um, very, um, pro-America areas of this great nation. This is where we find the kindness and the goodness and the courage of everyday Americans. Those who are running our factories and teaching our kids and growing our food and are fighting our wars for us. Those who are protecting us in uniform. Those who are protecting the virtues of freedom."

Madam Governor, I understand all about pandering to a certain type of voter, and I see that you are doing that here. However, I also think that you have crossed a line that is so obscenely offensive that I cannot sit by without addressing you on this.

I am used to hearing about the average American as someone who is not me. Someone with the values that are grown in a small town. Someone who longs for the old days when the pledge of allegiance was recited every day in school. Someone who shakes their fist at taxes and shakes their head at those horrid welfare mothers.

True, I don't fit into that box, but I take offense to the suggestion that I am somehow less patriotic, less supportive of my country, and not a "real" American for holding convictions that are contrary to yours.

Yesterday my family and I gathered at a rally to welcome Senator Obama to our city and to hear him speak. We had to park blocks and blocks away and in the grass, and then join a line that stretched for blocks in order to wait outside where we wouldn't be able to see the senator speak, but would be able to hear his words and stand with the crowd. As my husband and I crossed the street to join the line waiting to get close enough to hear, we noticed across the street that there were protesters. Some held signs stating obscenities like "God Hates Fags". One of the women ahead of me in line mumbled something about the grace of God and Jesus, and I remarked loud enough for her to hear that I don't think God hates anyone. She turned around and smiled at me and agreed with me saying "God is love", apparently not minding that we obviously belong to different faiths (I happened to be wearing my turban at the time).

We approached the building crowd, and the absolute diversity of the gathering was astounding. There were some who looked like hippies, some who looked like yuppies, black people, white people, hispanic people, asian people, young people, old people. We stood together, united in one thing. We all love this country.

The speech was exhillarating, uplifting, and after hearing your remarks on small towns being the real America, I wasn't surprised when Mr. Obama said that he wanted to bring every kind of American together. When he said this, my spirits soared.

In school, children are taught that America is the great melting pot, and that our diversity is to be cherished. What is a shock to many (like myself) is that these values don't seem to have permiated the adult population.

Ms. Palin, I understand that as human beings we are limited in our world views by our own experiences. Perhaps you have never dealt with issues of diversity during your life, but I'm not going to speculate on what has created your world view. What is obvious to me though, is that you are dismissing the validity of a huge portion of the population.

My husband is a teacher who goes to school every day to teach young children. Some of these children are from homes broken beyond my own comprehension. My husband is a true American. Those children are real Americans. My parents owned their own businesses for years. Later, when my father went to work for other, our family fell on hard times due to the fact that we are not the religion of the majority. My mother stayed at home with us from the time we were small until I left for college. Now my father stays home with my youngest sister and attends college, while my mother works full time. They are real Americans.

I have a passion for this country that I don't think I can express. I am honored to live in a place where I can dissent, protest, and live outside the mainstream. I am free to practice my religion, parent as I see fit, and hold the political views that I believe are right. So, Ms. Palin, I take offense to your comments that you enjoy the "real America" the parts that are "pro-American". Small towns are absolutely part of the patchwork that makes up this country, but the rest of us are no less real because we don't agree with you. Our passion and our vision are no less valid than yours, and I hope to send that message to you loud and clear on November 4th.

May the long time sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and the pure light within you, guide your way on.
Sincerely,
A Missouri Mother for Change

Stagflation minus the economics

2008-10-14T22:41:00.004-05:00

I can't remember what the issue was, but in elementary school, I remember having some problem at school and feeling so overwhelmed that I never wanted to return. Of course that's a common feeling, I know everyone feels like they want to scrap it all and just start over sometimes.

Right now, I'm sure there are some that feel that way about the economy. I'm no economist, but my dad was telling me today that stagflation is pretty much the worst kind of crisis that you can have. It's so spectacularly awful because no one knows what to do about it. It's so complex, especially with the interconnectedness of the global economic system that even the most brilliant market pupeteers aren't sure which strings to pull, or where the cause-effect relationships are anymore.

Our family isn't particularly effected by the economy, but I'm feeling the effects of stagflation in other ways.

1) Emotionally draining relationships.

I have absolutely no idea where the cause-effect relationships are anymore. Days and weeks are passing, and the stock continues to drop. Excitement is turning to panic. It's taking more emotional currency to get the necessities, and growth has seemingly halted.

2) Touchable accomplishments

This marks two weeks that I haven't even touched my crafts. Yarn sits on surfaces waiting to be useful, but time is more costly than ever these days. I'm being pulled in several directions at once (work, volunteering, family obligations...etc.). It all seems to suffer.

I was thinking that I had another point, but I see now that I don't. Happy crafty Tuesday all...Hope yours was more productive than mine.

Round and round it goes

2008-10-08T21:52:00.004-05:00

My word, how fast things can change. I've spoken on here a few times about being raised Sikh. I have been rebelling against that for some time now. In college, I nearly broke my parents' hearts when in a move of cowardice cut my hair and then e-mailed them to let them know. I know they've gotten over it now, but it was a major shock to them at the time.

I was the secretive child growing up...sneaky actually. I would hide for an hour behind a door just to get to startle someone coming up from the basement. Sometimes I lied to friends to make stories more interesting, and I often kept secrets from my parents and others. I'm a definite introvert most of the time. I'm social, but cautious of those I don't know well. I'm hardly ever the life of the party.

Growing up Sikh was hard for me. I don't like being the center of attention. If too many eyes are on me at once, I feel like I would like to fold in on myself rather than stand out. It's hard being a Sikh, because the most distinctive thing about being a Sikh is that Sikhs wear turbans, and turbans make people look at you. Did I mention that I don't like people looking at me? The whole purpose of the turban is to be forced to stand out. It's more noticeable that you aren't living up to certain standards if others know from looking at you that you are a person with certain ideals. Am I making any sense?

This week, I've decided against rebellion. I have missed being a Sikh dearly. I often hum the hymns of my childhood as I lay down to go to sleep, or try and think up ways that I can wear a turban without it actually being a turban. Alas, there seems to be no half way about it. Papajama and I have discussed the issue at length. I feel so grateful to have a husband who understands the quest for yourself. It's funny how a few yards of cloth can make such a large difference in one's life, and yet leave it the same in so many respects.

Crafty Tuesday: No Update

2008-10-07T22:11:00.002-05:00

Just a quick note to say.... I'm writing to let you all know that on this Tuesday I have no craft updates. In fact, I haven't even touched my knitting this week. Things are crazy around here. Papajama seems to have quite a few meetings after school this week, and I am the chauffeur for those occasions.

Also, my grandma (Mama's Mama...not the other one) is coming into town tomorrow. I'm looking forward to getting to visit with her, since I haven't seen her since my wedding. We all can't wait to show babyjama off. Anyway, my hands have been busy doing other things...much less glamorous things than making something new. Today it was mostly the task of folding laundry. I don't know how it can get behind so fast, but it's amazing how little time it takes for everyone to run out of underwear.

So there you have it. Third week into crafty Tuesday and I'm already slacking. Hopefully I'll be able to make up for it soon.

Why I am the grinch...

2008-10-02T10:41:00.001-05:00

I just saw my first Christmas commercial of the season today. It disgusts me that Christmas is such a time of scavenging and preying on others to make a profit...I'm pretty sure that's not what the Christmas spirit is all about. But that is not why I dislike the holiday...

I didn't celebrate Christmas as a child. As a Sikh family, we didn't have much room for stories of the nativity, or trees, or Christmas hams. We had/have our own holidays and so Christmas was just a day during winter vacation for us when the grocery stores weren't open and our friends couldn't come to play. But that didn't make me wish that Christmas would never again come...

Ironically, what brought this grinchyness on for me was the one year that we celebrated Christmas when I was a child. When I was 9 or 10 we went to the frozen tundra that is Wisconsin to celebrate Christmas with my father's family. My sisters and I were SOOOO excited. Not only were we going to get to meet our cousins for the first time, but we were going to get presents. Our parents splurged and bought us a few presents, and we even guessed what one of them was (It was Aladdin on video cassette, and man was that super awesome).

We had a fantastic time with our cousins. In fact, in the months afterward we continued to write and call them every chance we got.

No. The problem stemmed from Santa (a.k.a. my grandparents).

Since we were the only grandkids who were in from out of town, all of our cousins opened presents at home from Santa, and then came and opened presents from Santa at grandma and grandpa's house. Plus one present for the whole family from Grandma and Grandpa. On the other hand, we had the presents from our parents, and a present from Grandma and Grandpa. We got no presents from Santa. Now, since we weren't actually Santa believers, our mom had told us that there was actually no such thing (although she forgot to mention that there is actually no tooth fairy either), it was rather obvious that all of the other grandchildren had received actual individual presents from Grandma and Grandpa, and had left us out completely.

It still stings today when I think about it. First off, our grandparents didn't know that we didn't believe in Santa. And I can't think of anything more cruel than allowing your grandchildren to believe that Santa didn't love them...except maybe letting them know that you don't love them.

My dad had told me ever since I was a little girl that Grandma and Grandpa didn't agree with being a Sikh. They didn't like it, and they wouldn't accept it. It was quite another thing to experience first hand the coldness... We never saw our grandparents again after that. Sometime within the next year, my father decided that he was not going to subject his family to that kind of treatment. I still remember that the last thing that my grandmother ever said to our family was that she didn't want us to come by their gas station to say goodbye in the morning "That's the way Dad wants it and that's the way it's going to be." Presumably it would have been an embarassment to them if anyone in their little town found out that their son wears a turban. Their loss I suppose. I wonder if she ever had a moment of doubt as she lay on her deathbed, her cancer, and her pent up anger eating away at her on the inside. I'm sure she was medicated all the way up through the end. No lucid moment to allow in the doubt. The morphine concealing the pain, just the way that the alcohol had for decades before.

I don't miss Christmas. It's never been much of anything to me. But there is a part of me that knows that for me, it will always seem like a weapon rather than a time to rejoice.

We start 'em young

2008-10-01T10:40:00.002-05:00

Papajama, in all his wisdom, has printed off a sample ballot for our city, since we are going to have to vote on a lot, and other than the presidential candidates, neither of us knew much about the coming election. Anyway, so we happened to catch a glimpse of little miss doing this...

Seeing as how our tiny daughter is starting to get interested in politics and voting rights, I've also decided that it's time to go ahead and start introducing her to the potty. This is absolutely not formal potty training...I don't know what I even think about that, but she's been interested in the bathroom lately. Also, every once in a while we let her go diaper free for a while to air out and just be naked in general...I figure everyone likes a little nakey time now and again. Anyway, she seems pretty distressed whenever she "leaks"...she usually shrieks and wants me to get her away from that wet stuff. Of course, she's also deathly afraid of the giant ants that we have crawling around our house...but not at all phased by the teeth or bark of our giant dog...or any other giant dog for that matter...But I digress.

So we've been talking all about how mama and daddy go peepee and poopoo in the potty, and she loves getting the toilet paper off of the roll, and even likes to try to flush the toilet. And so, today we started something a little new. I let her sit on the toilet a couple of times. Once before our morning shower, and once before nap time (when I noticed her diaper was still dry). She got a big kick out of the whole thing...I'll let you know if we see any action over the next few days...doubtful...quite doubtful.

Knitting confession...

2008-09-30T10:55:00.001-05:00

...Okay, so for Crafty Tuesday this week, I have a confession.

I have no idea how to block. Blocking is supposedly this miraculous thing where you take your knitted project, wet it, and lay it out in the measurements that you want it to be and pin it down...I think. I have one experience with this. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and my project still rolled up really badly....Is there actually any way to make your knitting actually lay flat?

Anyway, so this week I've been working on the sleeves for babyjama's sweater that I showed you last week. Remember it? I say I've been working on sleeves and not sleeve because I had to start the sleeve over due to a glitch with the pattern (read: shee-it...I messed up and have to start over...so that counts as doing more than one right?).

So, that's that... After I finish the sleeves I actually have to learn how to block which I hope will be the miracle that makes this project work, and then the finishing touches followed by embroidered pants.

Worried Hands Supposedly Knit: The Resurrection of Crafty Tuesday

2008-09-23T12:45:00.011-05:00

I've heard this a few times in my life, but I don't think it's true for me. I've been a crafter ever since my parents bought me a tiny loom when I was a little girl (somewhere between the ages of 5 and 8). I made little pot holders with the little elastic loops that came with the room, but eventually moved on to more interesting projects. Crocheting was my next accomplishment. I made a sampler out of navy yarn...The edges were wavy, but man was I proud. At some point I also learned to cross stitch, knit, and sew (a little).

I absolutely love the relaxation and simultaneously accomplishment that I get from making things with my hands. I often daydream about all of the wonderful things that I plan to make.

The dream for this yarn are wool pants with a little embroidery.

A wool soaker that someday would allow babyjama to poop on her dad's pillow...

\

A cozy soft sweater for babyjama...

So no, for me, worried hands don't knit only loving ones do. When I worry I pace, and there's been far too much of that going on lately. So here I am hoping you all will help hold me accountable for the amount of knitting that I get done.

It's a happy mamajama that completes projects and makes creative things for her family.

And what could be more happy than this?

Kerflip...

2008-09-18T11:56:00.004-05:00

Yep...I know, kerflip is not a word. But it's the best way that I have to describe what my stomach is doing. I've spoken on this blog a few times about a rather delicate situation that seems to be going on and on and on in my life. So many times I've considered throwing caution to the wind and just letting it all hang out, but for the time being, I'm going to continue to hold my cards a little closer to the chest than I'd like.

Today I went to check for an update from a friend...Pipsylou...and followed her link to Oprah's website which led me here. Okay, maybe you didn't need to know that it was from Pipsylou, but I thought it pertinent, because she (like me...and let's face it...quite a few of us) has struggled with setting boundaries with her friends and family. As I read through this article on how to set boundaries, my stomach did that kerflip thing like I'm nearing the bottom of a rollercoaster and hoping that my brains aren't going to be dashed on the sidewalk.

This is the part that really got my tummy tingling. The author provides examples of personal boundary statements:

"Examples of Personal Boundaries

People may not...

Go through my personal belongings
Criticize me
Make comments about my weight
Take their anger out on me
Humiliate me in front of others
Tell off-color jokes in my company
Invade my personal space"

Just looking at these statements, and thinking about how I would implement them in my own life make my stomach flip again. It also tells me that this is a larger problem than the one with the select few that I've decided to focus my energy on. Surprisingly enough, this feeling makes me think of an interaction that I had with a bug.

Yesterday as I checked one of the side mirrors while driving to get papajama from work, I noticed a small praying mantis balanced on top of the driver's side mirror. The poor thing was hanging on for dear life. I considered pulling over to help the little critter down, but thoughts kept racing through my head. What if I have to TOUCH it? What if it belongs to a family back at our house and will be separated from it forever? What if I hurt it while trying to help it? All this while the little guy was straining against the wind that was engineered to glide easily over the aerodynamic mirror. He looked so uncomfortable, head cocked at a weird angle, antennae flattened down over his face, legs trying desparately to get a better hold. I became increasingly impressed with his determination to hang on, fight it out. As we neared papajama's school and I had determined that I would carefully use a piece of paper to help my new little hero find a new home in the school yard. As I slowed down to take the next corner, the little critter changed positions, now confident (I imagine) that he would be able to withstand any wind velocity. For a moment he looked triumphant, head held high, antennae now blowing backward, looking for his next challenge.

Then he was gone. Somehow he must have become less aerodynamic with the shift in position, and he was lifted off of the mirror and taken somewhere else. Maybe it seems strange, but I'm seeing this as a metaphor for what's going on. I am working on the skill of standing up for myself and going into the great unknown with my head up. My little bug hero conquered one skill and then unexpectedly went onto the next, or maybe he was just cocky and thought he had conquered it and fell to his doom. I can tell that he thought he had surer footing when he changed positions. Maybe confidence is a way that forces us to take a leap of faith. And maybe there's no such thing as a leap of faith. Maybe dumb confidence pushes us off the edge to further unknown. Okay so it's not a perfect metaphor, but I can't help but think about how surprised he must have been when his perch (the mirror of my car) started to move, and produced a life altering event. He didn't go looking for it...
it just happened...
and then...

kerflip...

Poop happens right?

2008-09-17T12:32:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I've been slacking off on my housekeeping duties lately. The kitchen is still clean, but well...the laundry is a little behind...the bathroom hasn't been cleaned in a few days...and well there's stuff all over the floor. I wasn't too worried about this state of events until earlier today. So, like I said the laundry is a little behind. This means that babyjama is wearing one of those wool soakers that I made her as a diaper cover. The only problem is that I had a little trouble with the shaping (hey it was my first attempt, what do you expect). And by trouble, I mean that the waste band is about 2 times as wide as the rest of the little wool shorts. To remedy this, I fasten the waist with a diaper pin (ingenius, I know). So um, earlier I was on the computer, ironically shopping for yarn to make into wool pants for the winter, when babyjama brought a book over to me.

How cute. I set the computer aside and started reading all about animal sounds. When I got to the part about "a horse says neigh" I caught the whiff. All you mothers out there know that smell, and so I prepared myself to go change a diaper. Only I looked down and there was no diaper...apparently my diaper pin fix wasn't the master plan that I thought it was. After cleaning up babyjama, I went on the hunt to figure out where babyjama had been. Luckily she had been playing with a bag of clothespins so I could follow her trail. The diaper and cover had been left by the laundry basket, there was no mess between that spot and the book shelf where she must have gotten the book. Uh-oh though, it looks like she must have taken a detour to look out the window next to our bed. And there it was, the brown tracks on papajama's pillow.

We often joke about the pink eye scene in the movie "Knocked Up" where the roommates are angry at each other and fart on each others' pillows....effectively giving each other pink eye. I usually say when he has allergies (which is all the time) that he looks like he has pink eye, and he asks if I farted on his pillow...yeah I know we're very grown up. Anyway, I don't think he's going to believe me when I tell him that this is truly a freak poop accident. Please feel free to laugh at our expense.

"But falling on my face is so fun Mama."

2008-09-16T07:27:00.002-05:00

That's what babyjama would say if she had the words. Her newest trick is climbing on every piece of furniture we own....many times followed by a face plant. I've been feeling really bad lately since so many times I can't seem to catch her. The new rule at our house is no standing on the furniture. I repeat this prediction over and over all day "If you don't sit down on the chair/couch/laundry basket/ottoman/whatever, then I will put you on the floor. If you do sit down, then I'll be happy to allow you to sit there." usually followed by putting her down on the floor. I'm doing my best to not turn it into a game, but inevitably sometimes she will squeal and laugh and get right back up there. I'm trying to be extremely consistent, but good lord consistancy is a pain in the ass (well...literally my back).

At this point I know that babyjama knows what I'm saying, because sometimes she will actually sit down when I give her "the prediction". I've been trying to think of another prediction that would be a good one for repeatedly standing on the chair...but I can't think of anything that I think she will understand. WAIT, I have an idea, I can tell her that if she continues to stand up on something that I'll put something up there to stop her....I think she would actually get that. Hee heee hee. I know this is probably not all that exciting for my readers, but you have to understand the number of times that I'm repeating myself and putting her down on the ground.

I know that she will eventually grow out of this phase. I have to admit that this is the toughest phase yet though. Her being completely mobile, and determined to get what she wants (which is very specific) yet almost completely nonverbal....yeah, my ears are ringing just thinking about it.

How are you getting through the toddler years?

Wiggling our waggles away

2008-09-10T07:30:00.002-05:00

I've been composing this post for a couple of weeks now.

I was somewhat of a quiet child. On many occasions I much preferred listening to my mother converse with her friends than playing with my sister or other children. If I stayed very quiet sometimes she would almost forget that I was there and share some juicy secrets. One thing I remember her mentioning often was that she had trouble saying "no" to people. I never understood what the heck she was talking about. What's so difficult about saying no? Now I look back and I know exactly what she was talking about. In our small community she was the only parent who didn't work outside the home. Some of the other women were extremely critical of my mom (usually in some kind of passive aggressive covert bullshit kind of way), and expected her to do favors for them based on the fact that she "didn't work". There were whole summers where our house was over run with other people's juvenile detention center reject kids. Times when she was potty training others' children so that they could put them in daycare. As a kid, I just thought it was fun to be around so many other children. It never occurred to me to think of the stress that my Mom was under.

In college, I got my first taste of what it meant to feel the pressure to say "yes". I was a member of a service sorority. After a few active semesters I became treasurer of our organization. It was a really crappy job. I hated being the one who was supposed to tell the members that we couldn't afford something, or that someone's idea posed a cash flow problem. As a result, we had some spending issues during my tenure as treasurer...

During that time I also had some scheduling problems with the other officers. It was so difficult to figure out when all the officers could meet that we were meeting late at night, while I had a part time job that required me to be up early every morning. Complaints only led to scoffing from my fellow sisters. Obviously I was being selfish for not wanting to work around others' schedules. In the end, I caved and had a rougher semester as a result.

Even now I sometimes wonder if my lesson from that situation was to be more flexible or more rigid.

I struggle with this subject even more now that I'm a mother. It seems that nothing can tear me into a million different directions the way that making decisions about babyjama can. I firmly believe that a child's parents are the best people to make a decision for their family. For me this has been mostly a simple set of decisions. Whether or not my child wears a hat on a cool day, whether to nurse on cue or based on a schedule, whether or not to vaccinate, or when is a good time to leave her with a babysitter, no one except me and papajama has as much information about our child's preferences, attitudes, moods, health, and family history. What amazes me is that others seem to think that that they can somehow know better than us what to do.

I've gone through several phases in how I deal with this in the past 15 short months. At first, I brooded silently or in writing while smiling outwardly. Next, I began to voice my opinion, but as my lovely sister in law has pointed out to me, I sometimes sound more as if I'm asking permission to say no than actually asserting my opinion (oops). I have recently resolved within myself to sing my opinions from the rooftops. Don't get me wrong, I don't intend to shove my opinions down anyone's throat. Thanks to Sharon Ellison and the Art of Powerful Nondefensive Communication, I feel confident that I can express my opinion without trying to convince anyone else. I don't feel that I need to bolster my stances with the agreement of others.

It was a freeing realization when after an interaction that normally would have sent me into a tailspin for weeks occurred a little while back. In the past I have brooded over what action I need to take in order to keep or restore peace. On that particular night though, I no suffocating weight of responsibility. I have no control over the actions of others (this is my new mantra and I repeat it often). I also don't feel responsible for how others feel anymore. So that night, rather than going to bed with a stomachache, papajama, babyjama and I let loose and enjoyed a family dance-a-thon. I let that clenched up feeling in my diaphragm go, and the cool air filled my lungs as I flailed my arms, kicked my legs, leapt, and grinned.

Writing when I should be...

2008-09-02T15:59:00.002-05:00

Well, I feel like I should be doing a hundred different things right now. The kitchen looks like it was hit by the a-bomb....my sister came over at the last minute for lunch so I was rushing around trying to fix a nice lunch and ya know impress her a little. That was more than an hour ago and I still haven't put the food away or started on the dishes....I'm feeling a little whiny about housework today. Ya know? But at least I got clean sheets on the bed. That's something.

Other than that I seem to be obsessed with knitting at the moment. Who am I kidding, this is turning into a lifelong obsession with crafts with short breaks due to adult ADD. I signed up to get an invitation from ravelry today....I'm jumping up and down going "PICK ME OH PLEASE OH PLEASE PICK ME". Recently I've been working on hats and booties for all of those friends who are having babies these days...and now I'm ready to move on to knitting for papajama's family for Christmas. Don't think that I'm punishing his family and not my own though...my family just doesn't celebrate Christmas so I guess they're off the hook.

Not only am I blogging when I should be doing a number of other things (i.e. figuring out what my next affordable luxuries post will be, or putting the sour cream back in the fridge), but I also went to the yarn store today when I was supposed to be grocery shopping. Oh well, FlyLady is forgiving right?

Funny thing though, I dropped more than 50 bucks in that yarn shop today, and I'm not sure that I like what I got. I don't think I'm one of those visionaries who can say, wow this looks like it's going to be a great pair of socks, or this would look awesome as a sweater. Actually, my yarn looks a little garish. I ended up buying a wool in puple and gray after looking at a soft lavender and very light gray in a cashmere/silk/wool blend that also cost about 13 bucks for 100 yards (FUCK)...oops did I say that out loud? Anyway, I'm off in the land when I want to make something creative from balls of soft string...excuse me while I day dream a bit.

Update on the not so rotten teeth

2008-08-26T07:40:00.000-05:00

I got a bit of a response from my previous post on taking babyjama to the pediatric dentist. It's nice to know that others are going through baby tooth hell right along with us. The whole experience of going to that first dentist didn't sit well and so we quickly made an appointment with another dentist before going on vacation. This second dentist is a family dentist and doesn't work on such little people. In all honesty, I thought that was a huge plus since he wouldn't be making a dime off of any procedure that would cost us thousands of dollars and leave babyjama with shiny metalic teeth and an anesthesia hangover.

He was extremely personable and came out to the waiting room to meet and greet us. On the ride to the office I started pleading with the universe to make the dentist say that her teeth were okay. Realizing that that wasn't actually the outcome that I wanted, I went ahead and forced myself to meditate on the situation stilling myself to what I wanted, and allowing things to work themselves out. He took one look in her mouth and said that he couldn't see anything.

We were dumbstruck. I asked about the little spot that had prompted me to bring her in in the first place....He said he wouldn't do anything about something so tiny. He said he didn't see what the other dentist had been talking about at all.

We left the office feeling really relieved, but later on in the day, worry set in again. It's really strange to have two completely opposite opinions, and very disconcerting.

After pacing the house a few times more, searching the internet, calling friends, and reading and reading and reading, I finally found a pediatric dentist whose name was coming up over and over again. I immediately called and set up an appointment. Monday was that appointment.

Here are some of the highlights of what this magnificent Dr. man had to say:

"Those are NOT cavities"

"I'd like to do a fluoride treatment and observe her again in three months"

"I'm glad you brought her in"

(After I thanked him profusely) "I didn't tell you what you wanted to hear, just the truth"

I was so happy that I grabbed him around the neck and licked both sides of his face....er....not really, but I was very happy and a kiss didn't seem like it could express what I wanted it to.

There you have it, her teeth aren't rotting out of her head after all. Another testament that when something doesn't feel right, go find someone who will tell you what you want to hear...no wait, that's not the lesson here.

Procrastination is a self-fulfilling prophecy

2008-08-15T11:27:00.004-05:00

Yesterday felt a little blah, and I'm having a hard time shaking it today. I've been on such a great roll with my flylady stuff, and I'm still keeping up, but I haven't added anything new to my routines in a couple of days (when you go through the flylady baby steps you slowly add to your daily routines until you have made great habits for yourself). Maybe I'm just tired since this is the first week that papajama is back at work. Maybe I've been staying up too late watching the olympics...I know I'm not the only one. Maybe I'm just still down about this whole family situation. Shit, maybe I'm just have low iron.

Whatever it is, I'm really scared I'm gonna slip up. It may seem like a small think, but having the house clean(er) has been so freaking fantastic that I never EVER want it to go back to the way that it was. So then, why am I sitting here blogging when I could be finishing my morning routine. I didn't finish it this morning because I had no laundry detergent. What's the excuse now? I guess I don't really have one.

During our daily phone call yesterday (yes I talk to him just about every day), my dad and I were discussing conflict and how to deal with conflict meditatively. I mentioned that one thing that seems to be happening is that certain people in my life seem to be creating self-fulfilling prophecies. They have voiced their deepest fears to me, and their actions seem to be trying to make those fears come true. In addition to creating what they fear, they seem to be blaming the outcome on others (and if you guessed that by others I mean ME, you'd be right).

One thing that continues to hammer its way into my awareness as I am on the path to self-awareness is the interconnectedness of all things. It's rather infuriating to me that just as I realize that others are creating self-fulfilling prophecies, that I notice myself creating my own. Damn procrastination, why do you have to rear your ugly head when I was getting so close to feeling all self-righteous and superior. It's amazing to me that as I become aware of the shortcomings of others, the shortcomings that become most obvious to me are my own.

I hope I'm not completely losing you reader, but let me reflect for just a few minutes more. I guess the reason that I'm having such a hard time with my procrastination these days is that I can sense a grain of truth in the accusations about my character. Certainly I'm not a self-absorbed narcissist who believes that the world should revolve around me, but there are times when I wish that I were more selfless. I am not someone who completely lacks organizational skills, but from time to time you do need a shovel to find my dresser or the bottom of my closet. I am not someone who expects that my friends and family give 100% and that I give zip, but I'm also not good at keeping up long distance relationships and wish that I were better at it.

So I guess the truth is that I'm feeling a little sorry for myself, and it's paralyzing me from getting on with the work that I have at hand. Talk amongst yourselves. I'm going to put in a load of laundry.

Super-sonic screeches and quiet playing

2008-08-14T07:35:00.002-05:00

One of the things that frustrates and amazes me about my little girl is the fact that she can go from completely happy to inconsolably upset in the span of 2 seconds. It's truly amazing how fast she can get worked up. It's been exactly the same way since she was a tiny baby sleeping in my arms and I would jostle her just a tad. The supersonic sound wave that would come out of that tiny bundle's mouth was something that I never could have imagined. I often laugh about this because for the most part I'm pretty soft spoken myself (don't ask my own mama about that though...she seems to have some recollection of me doing a pterodactyl shriek right in her ear once...and I wasn't a baby at the time), and so is papajama.

In addition to being able to work herself up very quickly, babyjama can immediately end her outbursts when given what she wants. It's amazing. She can be in full scream, tears running down her cheeks, head tilted back, and if you give her the toy that she wants, she immediately shuts up...I mean calms herself down.

Now that she's entered the toddler stage, papajama and I feel that it's a good time to allow babyjama to learn that sometimes instead of getting exactly what you want right when you want it, you have to wait a few minutes. We're not depriving her of her basic needs, or witholding things just because we can, but for example, yesterday she wanted to take a bath in the sink. I know this because I was washing dishes and she came up and started screeching...I mean vocalizing loudly and shrilly. When I asked what she wanted, she started to try to take her dress off (that was a very proud moment of communication for me...just so you know).

I let her know that I needed to finish the dishes in the sink and then she could take a bath in there if she wanted to. This set off the tyrade. She cried, yanked on my pants, yelled, etc. My normal reaction in this situation is to give her lots of attention, and try and distract her, but I realized that she was just fine, and that it was a good learning time for her. She tried for a couple of minutes to get me to react to the mini-tantrum and when she realized that it wasn't working she quieted down, and found something else to do. She played quietly for a couple of minutes, I finished the dishes, thanked her for being patient, and gave her a nice cool bath in the sink.

Yes, this would be me patting myself on the back. Feel free to bask in the glory of it with me.

Looking in the mirror

2008-08-13T10:39:00.005-05:00

This is a difficult time to write for me. I have so much to say, but don't know exactly how to appropriately express myself. Things are good. No, in fact, things are great. Papajama and I are anxiously anticipating the very first ever non-arrival of a credit card bill. That's right, this month will be the first time ever that we don't have to include that huge expense in our budget.

In addition, I/we have kept up extremely well with our flylady.net babysteps. I honestly can't remember a time having the house this clean for this long, and as papajama and I were discussing last night, the finances and the household organization seem to be related. One of my very favorite things that Suze Orman says is that you have to have a clean house because if you don't respect the things that money can buy than you don't actually respect the power of money (that's a rough paraphrase...don't quote me). For us we seemed to work it the opposite direction. We were scared and didn't feel secure because we didn't have a handle on our finances, and so we completely re-evaluated everything that we did with money. Now we feel secure, and our finances are in order. It's that same process with the house. Our home wasn't the haven that we (well really me...I think he could live in a hole in the ground as long as there was comfortable seating, books and TV) wanted. The process is a slow and steady one, and we're starting to rule over our things rather than have them rule us.

This is also the week that papajama is back at work. No students this week, but he's now back in meetings full time, and again, it's great. We were dreading the start of this school year a little, because the summer was so short for us, but honestly this has been the smoothest transition from summer to school year that we've ever had. We're communicating well, we have a great household routine going. I just feel like we're working together the best that we ever have...

Can you feel the "but" coming on?

However (ha tricked ya), there is a huge storm cloud that seems to be looming over the horizon. We just had an explosively emotional family vacation, and although our relationship is fantastic, it seems to be putting some sort of drag on all that is going great in our life. I'm still struggling with dreams that leave me angry and my jaw clenched when I wake up.

I come up with long speeches in my head, and then have to remind myself that if you're dealing with someone who's unwilling to listen that there's no use. I want to defend myself so fiercely, yet I mostly feel like I'm in a boxing stance in the middle of a pitch black room. I'm not sure if the next thing that touches me is going to try and knock my head off or give me a hug. If I misjudge the situation, then I'm the villain for wounding someone who was trying to be kind or I'm seriously injured because I didn't defend myself against a gruesome attack.

The situation is an absolute lose-lose. My strategy as of right now is to be myself...whatever that entails. I might never be able to get others to like me, but I'm completely lost if I can't even look at myself.

The pediatric dentist and the very bad day

2008-07-30T07:50:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago, I noticed a tiny brown spot on the front of one of babyjama's teeth. Since one of my sisters had numerous cavities as a young child, I had some idea of the nightmare that it can be to get dental care for toddlers. I was hoping that if I caught it quickly enough that no major dental work would be necessary.

Yesterday, that bubble was completely burst. We took babyjama to the dentist and after looking into her little mouth for a few moments she said that there were more extensive cavities on the backs of her teeth and that she was going to need crowns on all four (that's all she has at the moment) of her top teeth. She went on to explain that the best way to do so was to take her to the local children's hospital and put under general anesthesia. I sort of nodded along through this, and wasn't really sure what to say or ask.

We were then ushered out of the exam room into the hall where one of the receptionists talked to us about billing and other directions before the procedure. That was the first time that I ever saw or heard the word stainless steel in reference to babyjama's teeth. I felt like crying. Her smile is so beautiful. I just kept imagining her walking into her first day of school with those metal things on there. After I mentioned it, they added the metal ones with a coat of something on the front to make them white, but to tell the truth I'm still not satisfied.

I'm not usually much for appearances, but I want her teeth to look good. I want them to be healthy above all else, don't get me wrong, but I REALLY want them to look good.

Also while standing in front of the receptionists desk (out in a very public hall I should add) was the first time that I heard the words root canal in relation to babyjama's teeth. I think that the dentist should have discussed that possibility with us first.

The drive home felt pretty hollow. I know that in the scheme of things dental work is not the worst thing that can happen to a child, but this feels very big to us. I just can't believe that this is our only option. And actually, we're seeking a second opinion. So dear readers, does anyone else have experience dealing with tooth decay in very small children? Have you heard of any options that might be less invasive? If you live in or near Missouri, any great dentists?

Scrimping on extras and living to tell about it

2008-07-25T23:24:00.000-05:00

I've written here before about working on debt reduction. It's awesome to watch the balances on our debts dwindle down. Our philosophy is to pay down one debt at a time. For the past several months, our focus has been on our credit card. When we started paying it off last fall, it had a balance of nearly $15,000. Due to frugality, a couple of awesome windfalls and a lot of working together, papajama and I sent off our very last payment to our credit card company (along with a sweetly worded "paid in full, suckas" note).

So for the past couple of days we've had little else to talk about with our friends and family. We're seriously gliding on air and can break into the hammertime dance anywhere and everywhere. The absolute best feeling is that we did this all together. We have been sitting down and writing out our monthly budget and planning out our finances for the past months, and I can happily say that we haven't had any fights over money (unless you count the time where we both kind of started freaking out on the inside when we thought that the other wanted to scrap our plans and prematurely go out and buy a house...I just consider that a misunderstanding...even if there were a few words of raised voices.)

I'm definitely not saying that we're perfect by any means. We have our temptations, but most of the time we don't succumb...and sometimes we do. Whenever we splurge, I think of it as a necessary release, and we tend to jump right back on the wagon....remember when we went out and bought those awesome cell phones on a whim? I still love mine, and honestly I don't feel guilty for spending a little when we're making headway. If we don't allow ourselves to have any fun during this time of financial pinch, then we're not going to stick with it.

What's really cool is that other people seem to be taking notice of how we're doing things. Just this weekend, we shared our budgetting system with some family members. It's really powerful what can happen when you get yourself and your family on track to better finances. I was just talking to Papa-G and Mata-G this morning about how not taking care of yourself attracts bad things to you. And taking care of yourself and planning draws prosperity towards you. That has absolutely been our experience on this journey of ours. I'll periodically update you as we hit milestones or bumps in the road.

Rest is for the weak

2008-07-24T22:12:00.003-05:00

I don't actually think that rest is for the weak, but I had to grab your attention somehow. Just to let you all know, I'm freaking exhausted. And right after this post I'm going to bed. I should be well rested. On paper everything looks relaxing. We have a week and a half before we go on vacation, papajama is home with babyjama and I during the day, I'm working only half of my normal hours this month, and my volunteer meetings are winding down.

However, I seem to have replaced a hill's worth of work with a mountain. Let's see. Last week I decided that it would be a great idea to go ahead and have that garage sale that we had been putting off since the spring. That means we sorted through every nook and cranny of the house last week and decided what to get rid of, organized and priced it all, and sold approximately a third of it for about a quarter of what it was worth. The rest of the stuff is in the garage waiting for me to call the goodwill people to come pick it up. Now if only I could remember the name of the organization that will pick things up fro your house.

This week I decided that I needed to devote myself more totally to my volunteer activities and finish a large project that has been on my plate for some time...and by finish I mean get the ball rolling only a little faster, so that I can hopefully finish by the end of September.

Also this week I decided that getting the house in better shape and cooking and baking more need to be a higher priority. So, Monday we recovered and got ourselves organized again after the sale. Tuesday I finally made that green salsa that I've been planning (this post was actually supposed to be about the salsa...complete with photos of me making it...but I'm too lazy to upload the pictures right now...It'll have to wait). Yesterday I baked a double batch of cookies from that Sugar Free Toddler book that I told you about a while ago. Today I made my absolute favorite meal in the whole world cholay and puris. It's an Indian curry with fry bread and yogurt. I'm still full from dinner. I can hardly believe that I've done all that...but the really crazy part is that the kitchen is actually spotless.

I have started subscribing the FLYlady.net. If you haven't heard of this website, it's all about how to get CHAOS out of your life and doing it in baby steps. That's Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome. Today is day one...I have a shiny sink. Although if you read her entry on shiny sink 101 don't think that I'm a green sell out. I didn't actually use bleach to clean my sink...natural earth friendly cleaners all the way baby.

To update you on our summer scheduled-ness, I have to admit that last Wed. we did decide to sleep in for an hour rather than get up at 5:30 and 6:30...I'm very pleased with how it's going. Anyway, so it's about 10:30 and I'm tired, but it's a good tired. I was telling papajama the other day how much I like feeling good and tired at the end of the day. I love it when my head hits the pillow and I'm instantly asleep.

Enough typing more sleeping.

Okay, so I'm a little late to the party

2008-07-14T13:58:00.006-05:00

Summer is finally here for us jamas (cue angelic music). We have arrived, and I have to say that so far it's all good. What's not to like about not questioning when or if I'll be able to fit work into a busy day, and an extra set of adult hands around is definitely a plus. That's right people, papajama is officially finished teaching summer school and we're both home for a whole month.

Aaahh, the house is mostly clean, the laundry is mostly done, and the dishes are caught up...can it stay like this forever? Please?!

Papajama and I have decided that this summer is going to be different. We're actually going to continue to keep some semblance of a schedule so that I can work and so that we don't get the blobbing on the couch lazies...I know you know what I'm talking about, you know where you look up from Jerry Springer and realize it's two in the afternoon and you're still in your bath robe and you're pretty sure that that was a crust from a grilled cheese sandwich and not the remote that you just touched under the couch cushions...yeah...we're not letting that happen this summer. It's working out pretty well so far...but this is basically day one so I'll keep you updated.

Anyway, so to start off our non-blobbing summer right we got up early, showered, breakfasted, I worked and he played with babyjama, and then we took our little girl to the park. There's something extremely satisfying about watching that little girl push that little cart and to see that diaper butt swish from side to side. She has such purpose as she moves about as if it's all so important.

Oh yeah, and our garden? It's going great. The weeds are taking over a little, but we have Tons of tomatillos which I plan to make salsa with. The tomatoes, zucchini and cucumbers are blooming but not producing as of yet. I can't WAIT!

How goes your summer?

Doin' a little jig: Or my hubby's a big dork

2008-07-11T12:48:00.000-05:00

Sorry sweetie, but I have to do this to you. I'm sure some of my readers are about to puke because of all the sappy posts that I've done lately. I guess recently I've just been feeling a bit nostalgic. So instead of walking down memory lane or making myself weep by thinking about how fast babyjama is growing, I thought I would introduce all of you to my husband.

Yes, that would be my husband doin' a little jig. He looks a little more distinguished in the picture than I was hoping, because as he was shaking his butt really fast and moving those fists, he looked hysterical...but alas a still picture isn't going to do justice to the scene that I witnessed. Anyway, the funny part wasn't actually the jig itself, it was the reason for the jig.

Let's see if you can guess why papajama was dancing.

You: "Did he organize his underwear drawer just the way he likes it?"

Me: "That was a really good guess, but I'm afraid that that is not correct. You see, papajama's underwear system is so complex that I do not even attempt to open that drawer anymore. I think it goes something along the lines of that the most recently worn have to be put on the bottom of the pile in order to make all the underwear get worn the same number of times. What trips me up though is that he has some underwear that is only worn with certain outfits. Since he also has a rotation for the rest of his clothes (he doesn't want any shirt to feel left out), I'm not sure if I'm supposed to put the underwear into the pile so that they will come up when it is their turn in the rotation, or put them in the bottom of the pile."

You: "Does it have something to do with the number on the odometer of the car?"

Me: "Wow, you're really getting close. I can tell that you know that it has something to do with one of papajama's OCD tendencies. Unfortunately though, the odometer has not been and will not be a source of excitement for a while. You see back around Easter time our car odometer flipped over to three very exciting numbers. One Friday morning, we left for work a little early so that papajama could witness this miraculous event. It was to be the day that the car hit 99,999, 100,000, and 100,001. Okay, so you can probably guess why 100,000 was an important number...It could be considered a huge milestone for any car, but to have it sandwiched between two palindromes (numbers that are the same forwards and backwards), really made papajama's day. The downside of having hit that number is that palindromes happen much less frequently. When our odometer only had five digits on it, there was a palindrome every 100 miles (eg, 98,789, 98,689), but now that we have six digits on the odometer they only happen every 1,000 miles (eg, 101,101, 102,201). So sorry friends, this excitement had nothing to do with the car or palindromes."

You: "Hmm...it's not the laundry, and it's not the car, but it's something OCD that's making papajama dance. It must have something to do with his music."

Me: "Man you're good. You hit it right on the nose this time. Okay, so you remember back in the days of cd's? Of course you do, that wasn't that long ago. Anyway, papajama used to have a very specific way that he listened to his music. All of his CD's (all 1,000...not an exageration), were alphabetized by category. So the categories were things like soundtracks, or jazz. Every artist was alphabetized in each category too. Very very complex (I didn't touch those either). So anyway, back when we were dating he explained to me that he listened to his CD's all the way through in order of the way that they were organized in his huge black CD books. Anyway, the schedule was not to be deviated from. Period. Then, for our wedding, I gave him an iPod. For months we listened to his thousands of songs on random, and this made papajama very happy. He felt that he was getting to listen to all of his music in a very good mix. "

"Then he learned about some other features to his new toy. His very favorite feature is the 4 and 5 star playlist. Almost all of papajama's music is rated 4 or 5 stars, and so that's just about all we listen to when we're in the car. However, it's not that simple. Papajama has set his iPod so that it plays the 4 and 5 star list in order of what songs haven't been heard for the longest period of time (are you making a connection between this and the underwear?...yeah, me too). And if you don't listen to a song all the way through it isn't counted as listened to. Oh yeah, and papajama still loves the random feature on the iPod, so what he does is he makes sure to mix up tracks from an album with other songs from other albums. For example, if for some reason, there are two beatles songs in a row, you have to skip the second one so that they are not in the song rotation next to each other. When the rotation comes back around you pick that second song back up."

"Not following me? That's okay...just understand...it's anal."

"Anyway, papajama just listened to his iPod on a very long car trip back to Cedar Rapids. And for some reason, the iPod didn't remember that he had listened to about 13 hours worth of songs. So yesterday when he turned his iPod back on he was going to have to listen to some songs that he had recently heard (gasp) or fast forward through hours and hours worth of songs (double gasp)."

"Now we come to the reason for the jig. Somehow through some sort of technological magic, the iPod suddenly remembered that he had listened to all those songs and had picked up where he had left off (phew). Which made a 30 year old grown man jump around and dance like a little young child (and notice that in the picture our blinds are open for all the neighbors to see."

You: "Wow, he really is a dork, and that was a long explanation for the organization of music."

Me: "Sorry for the long explanation...I just had to make fun of him a little...but even though he's the biggest dork I know, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Love ya, Babe!

The Whole Package

2008-07-10T22:40:00.003-05:00

A few moments ago, I was sitting on the couch with a drooling sleeping toddler in my arms (having just watched another fantastic episode of Hopkins...seriously have you seen that show?). All at once it dawned on me what a complete little person that she is. No she's not all grown up or anything like that, but she has desires, likes, and definitely dislikes, mannerisms, personality, quirks, physical traits,you name it she has it. She is a WHOLE person. I know I know, I'm her mother, this shouldn't surprise me, but in all honesty it does.

You see when I started dreaming about this little person that would someday be my little girl, that was not a whole person. Sure the fictitious she had hair, and a nose and eyes and...well you get the picture. She sometimes cried and she sometimes slept and yeah there was some poop every now and then. But she wasn't completely bald for the first 8 months of her life and then start to grow reddish blond hair starting at the back of her head and moving forward (so that she resembled the actor that played Frank Barone from "Everybody Loves Raymond" for a few months). Her little nose didn't stand out from her cheeks like that of a Who from "The Grinch". Her eyes didn't dominate three quarters of her face, she didn't specifically cry and yell at me to give her Suzie's flatbread crackers, and she didn't drool in her sleep exactly the way that me and my sisters do (I swear it's hereditary), and her poop didn't smell just oh so bad with just a hint of a fruity smell (sorry for the TMI, but you have to take the bad with the good sometimes).

I know that we never ever EVER can anticipate what something will be like REALLY, but good lord was I off. I can't even tell you what it was now that I thought my little girl would be like, but she's more different than it's possible for me to describe. Like I said, she's a whole person.

Never Again

2008-07-03T08:54:00.002-05:00

My heart stopped today. In an instant you are out of my sight. I a little too wrapped up in conversation. Your feet padding along a little faster than I thought possible, drawn to the danger. I look back to see you, inching ever closer to the ledge. My bare feet slap against the wooden floors God please let me get there in time. Your dainty hands up near your face helping with that tenuous balance. My hands reaching to catch you, my words coming out in gasps. I can only see the back of your head, but I know the face is curious. You just want to know what those stair things are.

Barely in time I reach you. What was probably only 6 steps for me had felt like a 24 mile jaunt. My innocent baby, so sweetly immature. I swear to myself that never again shall you be near such danger. Yet I know it's a lie. You're developing faster than I can cope and the speed is more than alarming. You naively explore and enjoy yourself, and you're none the wiser about how I fret. Looming ahead are even deadlier dangers. My arms rev up to swat them away, but I know I'm not tough enough.

My heart stopped today. You don't even notice.

When treehuggers don't hug trees

2008-07-02T10:59:00.000-05:00

I know that I've posted about my concern for the environment a few times, but I'm not sure if I've posted proportionally as many posts about it as would befit my awareness, and thoughts on this topic. I think it would be safe to say that I am nearly constantly thinking about impact that I have on the environment, and the impact that others have on the environment.

Caring about the environment goes hand in hand with the type of parenting that I do. I want absolutely the best nutrition, best role models, best education, best nurturing...etc. for babyjama. I know that every parent feels that way (at least to a certain extent), but let me just give you an example. For the past year, I have known that there would come a day when babyjama would walk. I knew too, that she would need shoes for walking outside, and in public places. So, what I did was research what kinds of shoes would be best for her tender little feet. The consensus seemed to be that soft soled shoes made of leather were the best. So that's what I bought her. She now wears her tiny little shoes all around the outside world, and I'm very happy with my research and with the shoes.

I did the same things with diapers. I had planned on cloth diapering from the beginning, but read up on disposable vs. cloth anyway. I came to see that cloth was the best way to go for many reasons, including: keeping chemicals away from babyjama, allowing her to feel wet (for potty-training purposes), and environmental reasons...not to mention the savings over disposables.

The effect that products have on the environment has really come into the forefront of my mind since becoming a mother. I feel an urgent responsibility to take care of the planet for the sake of my daughter and her future children...afterall, I don't just want the best for her in the present.

It doesn't particularly surprise me to find people who don't care about the environment. All of my life I've known people who call environmentalists "tree-huggers"...and not in a nice way...When these people are mothers, it's usually easy to spot them. Many times they drive the largest car that they can afford the payment for, use all sorts of one-use products for their children (diapers, single serving packaged food, disposable bibs, paper towels, wet ones)...It bothers me, but I can only be in charge of myself. In the last week though, I was blind-sided. I met a Mom who seemed so much like me (cloth diapering, wearing a sling, breastfeeding, etc.) Out of the blue, she made a disparaging comment about the environment. Something along the lines of "I don't care about the environment". I was just shocked...I didn't understand how she could have such progressive views about childrearing in other ways, but not connect the environment to a part of their future well-being.

Thoughts?

Giant adult steps

2008-07-01T10:36:00.000-05:00

We're recuperating around here from the schedule that just won't quit. This past weekend, we had what we thought was going to be our final busy weekend for a while. You see, papajama just turned thirty yesterday, and so I threw him what was supposed to be a huge birthday bash, but turned out to be a small gathering of family and friends. I baked enough cupcakes to feed a small army, so (sigh) we're having to sacrifice and eat them. Before the birthday bash weekend was an out of town wedding. And before that my father-in-law came to visit, and before that, was babyjama's birthday, and before that...you get the picture. We've been a little busy.

So we've been looking forward to next weekend for a very very long time. Papajama will have finished teaching summer school, and we can blob out on the couch as much as we want. Well, unfortunately, that's not going to happen....MUCH larger things are afoot. The father of a very dear friend of papajama just died. Papajama actually used to call him Dad. Needless to say, we're going to the funeral, and leaving next Sunday. The family seems to be taking everything in stride and they say that they know he's better off having left this life. I can tell that the loss is affecting papajama. I don't think that it's so much the loss of this man, as the realization that our parents are becoming the older generation, and it isn't out of the realm of possibilities that they could die. It's a hard realization to come to.

On the mundane level, this means that our relaxation weekend is just going to have to start and end early.

Summer school will be over Thursday afternoon, and that's when relaxation shall commence. I highly doubt we'll be going anywhere or doing anything...I plan on staying in my pajamas indefinitely...at least until we leave for Cedar Rapids on Sunday. Oh yeah...have I mentioned that papajama grew up in Cedar Rapids, IA? This will be the first chance that he'll have to see his hometown after the devastating floods. His mom was in town this weekend and said that it's absolutely impossible to imagine the magnitude of what has happened there until you actually see it. Anyway, papajama seems to be dealing with everything very well. It is a lot to have happen in a week's time though. Such a huge birthday, his friend's loss, and seeing his hometown...Life just keeps coming.

Baby Bobble Head

2008-06-20T19:31:00.002-05:00

I don't think I've mentioned this here yet, but babyjama is walking. It was three weeks ago today that she took her first tenuous steps, and now she's off and running. I never really paid much attention to how funny babies look when they're learning to walk, but I have to keep from laughing every time I see that ginormous melon of a head (which seems entirely too large for her feet) coming down the hall toward me.

The most entertaining (and scary) part is watching her "steer" herself. She seems to point her head in whatever direction that she wants to go, and it's all her chubby little legs can do to keep up. We've had a few near misses with her running into the wall head first, and some bullseye hits with her ramming herself full speed into couches and chairs. I guess the age of bruises has begun. Just today she ran head first into an overstuffed recliner. There seriously have to be only two or three places that you could hurt yourself on that chair, but she has the purple bruise on her forehead to prove that it can be done.

In fact, She's an expert at the art of getting hurt on seemingly innocuous objects. Just yesterday I turned around for a second to put some dishes in the sink and heard her bang into the trashcan. I figured that that was the source of the hurt cry, but a few hours later, I was inspecting her fingers a little more closely and found that somehow the mishap with the trashcan had cut her finger. I have no clue how that happened.

But to get back to the walking thing, it's ridiculous to watch this little tiny thing walk around like she thinks she's a big person, and the only thing that cracks me up more is when she then opens her mouth and says something. "Stop" is the latest new word, but the way she says "Hi" blows me away. She sounds like a little girl when she says it, but I always need a double take because she looks much too tiny to be so grown up. Papajama says that she'll always look much too little to us. I know he's right.

Anybody else need a double take when they look at their kids these days?

Another green post, but of a different kind

2008-06-19T11:19:00.004-05:00

I'm green with envy. I've been getting very involved with one of my Mom's groups over the past few months, and we've been taking turns meeting at each other's houses. Yesterday we met at a Mom's house close by, and I have to say that her house is freaking immaculate. Her sofas have beautifully simple pillows on them, with matching covers on the seats in her dining room. The whole house has shiny, spotless, wood floors, except for the kitchen that has cool toned ceramic tile. Even the nursery is just so with it's car motif and colorful storage baskets.

I know that she's a busy mom. She has a 3 year old, is about to pop with her second, takes care of the house, volunteers, and works part time from home. But their house is nicely landscaped, with flowers in all shades of purple lining the steps up to their front door. Even their deck on the back of the house is clean. You could actually sit on their patio furniture without cleaning it off first. What's up with that?

When people come to my house I clean up, but let's face it, some stuff gets shoved into a room and that door stays closed. That's my secret to not letting people see my mess. It's not terribly clever, but it works in a pinch.

So as she was standing in her kitchen, making iced tea and setting out snacks for everyone, I asked her. How do you do it? How do you get your house to look like this and do all of the things that you do? She told me that her son helps out a lot, and that her husband helps around the house too. I wanted to grill her some more and ask just how many hours a week she spends on her hands and knees scrubbing that floor, but everyone else arrived. I will be keeping my eye on her though...Seriously I want to know. Has she given up sleep? Does the TV never go on? Does she not cook? Does she live in some kind of time warp where she has endless time during the day? Maybe she'd let me job shadow...Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask.

The green thumb of death

2008-06-18T13:25:00.002-05:00

It's been a long time since I updated you on the status of our garden. To be perfectly honest, that's because the garden was not doing so well. You see, we planted the seeds in a layer of woodchips, and the wood chips started breaking down, using too much nitrogen.....yada yada yada, you don't care about this part do you?

So the plants started growing, and then turned yellow and shriveled and died. It was very depressing. Our entire backyard was overgrown with all sorts of grass and weeds, and the only brown piece of turf was our "garden". Yep that's embarrassing. So a couple of weekends ago, we fertilized. Yes, we're still organic gardeners, because we used completely organic fertilizer made from an extremely stinky substance made from fish feces. It's an especially stinky substance when your dog decides to roll in it, and you can't get that stench out of your carpet...but that's a story for another time.

We have since replanted, and our hot summer crops seem to be doing well. We're growing tomatillo tomatoes (the green tomatoes in green salsa), regular tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, and zucchinis. One of my greatest joys these days is going out to water the garden. We have a soaker hose buried out there, but I can't help but like to go out and spray the garden with the misting nozzle. It's so cool to see the soil drink up the water, and see the leaves perk up and stretch out as they receive all the nutrients that they need. The tomatillos are blooming now, and have a few lanterns on them. I'm dreaming of the cool and tangy salsa that I'll be making in the next couple of weeks.

It's such a relief to see something flourishing like this. A few months ago, I started raising red wiggler worms since we didn't have enough kitchen waste for a compost pile. The worms flourished for a few weeks, and then I fed them something with salt in it, and they all died (who knew that worms didn't like salt? Apparently everyone but me.) Next we had the early disaster with the garden, and most recently I killed a petunia plant in less than a week. I was feeling a bit like the thumb of death rather than like a green thumb, so it feels good to have something going well.

Speaking of the thumb of death, my computer is on the fritz. Hopefully I'll be able to get it fixed soon, but until then, no pictures of the garden to share.

The uncoolness of gawky

2008-06-16T10:48:00.003-05:00

Recent happenings in my life have reminded me of some painful times in my pre-teen and early teen years. When I was in eighth grade I got a summer job working at a children's camp as a "junior guide". It was probably one of the funnest (I know that's not a word) times of my life. The very first day I met the girl who would become my best friend for the next couple of years. She was a wiry tomboy type with long fiery red hair. We hit it off immediately, and decided then and there that we would tent together for the summer. The nights were filled with us talking and laughing among the sounds of the New Mexico mountains. We hiked together and found new trails. We complained about our rigid bosses. Compared our budding bodies. Shared and traded clothes. Snuck into the kitchen for midnight snacks. And discussed the possibilities for budding romances. Seriously, it was heaven.

It was sad when we parted ways at the end of camp, but we vowed to keep in touch by writing letters. She was much better at the letter writing than I was, but we kept up as best we could. You see, she was attending the 3ho boarding school in India, and I was being schooled at home. Two summers later, my family's situation had completely changed, and my sister and I had the opportunity to attend the boarding school ourselves. For me, the decision to go was very much influenced by the fact that I would be reunited with my red-headed friend. We hadn't been writing as often as we'd liked, but I knew that wouldn't matter once we were reunited.

I still remember running into her at the LAX airport, and feeling shy. We were about to fly overseas in a group of around 50 kids ranging in age from 8-17. I'd never been outside the United States, and I'd never been away from my parents for so long, in fact, before flying into LA that afternoon, I'd never even been on a plane. My friend seemed like a pro. She knew everyone. She was talking to and hugging everyone. I just felt like a doofus...My clothes were all wrong, I felt gawky and awkward, I wanted to go home. I told myself everything would be better when I got settled in. Maybe Red and I would even be able to room together...After all, when we stopped in Malaysia, she and I shared a hotel room.

A couple of weeks into the school year, I noticed that I was continually seeking out her company, and every few minutes I could hear myself ask her what was wrong, if she were mad at me, etc. This was usually met by eye rolling and that sniff/snort that teenagers have perfected over the past few centuries. My hopes of rooming together had been dashed early on, but we were in adjacent rooms...and that seemed good. However, Red seemed to have found another friend. They laughed and ran and played together (which to me seemed completely immature since we were now in HIGH SCHOOL). They would yell back for me to come along, but never actually included me in their games. It was below my dignity to screech and run and carry on like that anyway (at least that's what I told my third wheel self).

I felt like such a chump. How could I have expected to retain best friend status after all that time that we'd spent apart? I quit chasing her then. It was too painful to hang around but never be part of the jokes. I made new friends. I hung out with my roommates and my sister. Other people started to think I was funny. It was at that point that Red came around. At the time I was just relieved to have her back, but now that I think about it, I think that me being "uncool" had something to do with her not wanting to hang out with me. She and I remained friends for a few more years...but it was from afar. It's not possible to replicate a perfect summer friendship.

These days I feel like a third wheel again. This time it's not quite as simple to stop the chasing cycle. Because these relationships are of a long term nature, I feel an obligation to keep the relationships friendly. That is partly easy because the people that I'm interacting with are genuinely fun people. The strange thing is that right when I feel like things are going great, a wall goes up unexpectedly. I keep accidentally slamming into that wall, and it's making me a little jumpy and a little crazy. Criticisms come out as compliments, jokes have mean little snares in them, looks have many meanings, and comments about my daughter are sometimes barbed, but said in a sing-song voice. It's the covert warfare of women. It's damaging, it's ruthless, but subtle.

I don't want to be labeled as the destroyer of the relationship, but I fiercely want to protect myself and my family. It is not in my nature to be friendly but not truly be friends. In my life I have those who are close to me, those who are not, and those that I don't know well enough to fit into either camp. I feel disoriented in these current relationships, because one moment I feel as though we have reached true friendship level, and the next I feel like an annoying tag-along...or worse. My normal advice to someone, including myself would be to talk it out. However, just as in the case of my childhood friend, bringing the issues into the open just brings about denial.
I mostly feel out of my element, and that's what reminds me of my adolescence. I feel weird, and shy. It's a painful regression for me since I think of myself as so beyond that point. So here I am, sitting here waiting for a genuinely friendly smile, but I don't expect it because I'm gawky and uncool.

Look at me! Look at me!

2008-06-09T09:40:00.000-05:00

Yes my friends, this post is partially a shameless plug for you to go check out my Green Mama Interview. About a month ago, one of my Work it, Mom! friends (Meg a.k.a. earthmama) e-mailed and asked if I would be willing to do an interview about what our family does to be green to post on her website. Excitedly, I agreed right away. Woo Hoo! Someone thinks I'm cool like that!...Yes those were pretty much my exact thoughts. So in the glory of the moment I lost sight of the fact that I think of myself as pretty ordinary.

Anyway, so when I sat down to write, the whole thing seemed a little intimidating. The cursor just blinked behind the question "How do you practice conservation at home?" "We recycle dot dot dot". So after feeling lame for a while...I made up a complete lie...just kidding, it just took me a while to remember all the things that we do. At first that made me feel kind of upset (afterall I am the founder of the "Greenies" group at Work it, Mom!), but then I realized that it was hard for me to think of all the things that we do to help the environment that are just second nature. Phew, for a second I thought I was going to actually have to DO something.

The whole experience led me to really check out Meg's website, The Earth Friendly Shoppe. I had been to her uber-cool environmentally friendly website before, but hadn't had time to really peruse it. I'm really excited about the stainless steel water bottles that she sells, and the bar soaps, not to mention the absolutely posh purses (I drooled a little). Anyway, I've got it filed away for my next gift giving event (even if that event is me). I hope you'll go check her out, and while you're there, go read my interview.

Lemon with a dash of salt

2008-06-06T13:08:00.003-05:00

Today is the day. My baby is a one year old, and I can't believe she's gotten so big so fast. Her grandparents are coming for a visit from out of town for her small family birthday party tomorrow, so this morning we were doing some cleaning and listening to music. Since we almost always listen to papajama's music, I thought it would be a nice change to put on some Julieta Venegas. She's a mexican artist who I was introduced to when I studied abroad in Guadalajara during college. So I put on her "Limon y sal" album (see title of post).

Babyjama and I twirled around the living room, my still damp hair flowing out behind me and her shrieking with delight. At that moment, the chorus of the song hit me in a way that it never has before. The words are something along the lines of:

No voy a llorar y decir
que no merezco esto
porque es probable que
lo merezco...

Roughly translated that's "I'm not going to cry and say that I don't deserve this, because in all probability, this is exactly what I deserve, but it's not what I want." Okay, the song is about a woman leaving her lover. Not exactly pertinent to me feeling torn between the happiness of babyjama coming into the world, and sadness about it not going down the way I wanted it to. However, this is what I'm taking away from the whole thing. I continue to feel self pity, and try and separate the event as if there's one part happiness, one part sadness. The truth is that the whole experience was a jumble. Completely tied up together not in a neat little package, but in raw emotion...some of which I don't want to allow in. I want to leave the bad and only feel the good. Except that trying to shake off those depressing feelings of worthlessness makes me dwell on them more. It erases the whole picture, and all I have left is insolent, futile anger, sadness, fear.

Yesterday, Papa-G and I had a conversation, and he was telling me about a recent incident with their bank. Long story short, the bank had acted inappropriately, the situation ended with personal information being leaked to my father's estranged family. He told me that when this happened he was furious, and kept dwelling on those feelings of anger. He then said that he went into himself and just allowed himself to "turn the page". Something is getting worked out with the bank to make sure nothing like this happens again, but Papa-G doesn't think that would have been possible if he hadn't turned the page.

So there I was, dancing with babyjama, happy and carefree. As the song played, I started taking the chorus to heart. No voy a llorar y decir que no merezco esto--I'm not going to cry and say that I don't deserve this. That idea hurt at first. How could I deserve this pain, and then I took another look at the whole jumbled picture, and realized that the amount of pain in relationship to the amount of joy has been miniscule. Porque, es probable que lo merezco--because in all probability, this is exactly what I deserve. I earned and deserve every bit of that pain, but I also earned and deserve every bit of the happiness that has come with it.

I often go back to an interview that I saw with Jamie Lee Curtis. She said about parenthood "Nothing could ever be this worthwhile without being this hard". I don't think it would be possible to enjoy the fruits of parenthood as much if there weren't glaring obstacles in the way.

Papajama asked me this morning if I would be willing to retell the story of babyjama's birth to her every year the way his mom had done with him. I said that absolutely I would. I am proud of her birth. It's an epic tale, and it has the happiest ending imaginable. I definitely won't be leaving out the hard parts though...afterall, the reason it was so hard was because we wanted the absolute best start for our precious girl, and sometimes that's not easy to come by.

Happy Birthday little girl!

Plans? Ha! Get a Life...

2008-06-05T13:58:00.003-05:00

...that's what I feel like the universe is telling me today. I had the best laid plans to work dilligently in the morning, straighten up the house for this afternoon, and have some time to relax this evening.

This is what's actually happening. This morning there is no such thing as a morning nap, so this also means that there is no such thing as morning working. I try to be flexible, so I figure I can follow babyjama around the house, and tidy up around her. We are having fun, her chewing on great literature, and me making the bed, and putting together loads of laundry. Then comes the eye rubbing and the tell-tale falling down that means that a nap is impending. So we snuggle up in our crisp new sheets. Just as the eyelids begin to sink down for the last time, I catch a whiff. All mothers know that smell. It means that it's time for a diaper change that just can't wait (when she had time to fill her britches without me noticing is beyond me).

So two loads of laundry and one diaper change later, she is back to wild playing while I scrub my hands and under my fingernails (I really should rethink the length of my nails). Only this time there is no chewable literature to be found, and the alternative is to quickly dump out the dog water 5 times before Mama can stop her (Mama must not be very smart to keep putting it down there).

So now, 3 more loads of laundry later, we're back to where we began...only this time babyjama is naked, as all of her clothes are in the wash. Babyjama is now determined to prove to me that she has no idea what a nap is and does not want to find out. After much playing, and crying about where the retractable measuring tape goes when it retracts, she's finally ready to lay down in Mama's lap.

So here we are back in the office, nursing in the recliner. She's almost asleep when the sound of shattering glass breaks the silence...That would be all mamajama's fault as she was the one who accidentally nudged papajama's sailboat off of the trunk with her elbow.

Again, we're back to where we started...

Bittersweet

2008-06-04T21:23:00.003-05:00

Friday will be the anniversary of one of the happiest, scariest, saddest days of my life. In the run-up to this anniversary, life is going on around me, and I'm a lot nostalgic, and a little preoccupied. The anniversary that I'm speaking of is the date of my child's birth, but it was also the day of my c-section, and the day that she was wisked up to the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit).

Everyday this week, I wake up, and the house smells the same as it did that week. Something about the smell of the trees in full leaf, the humidity, and our musty basement mingles together, and it reminds me of the last week of my pregnancy and the first few days of babyjama's life. Don't get me wrong, there's unbelievable happiness as papajama and I recount those events to babyjama each morning. "Good morning sweetie, one year ago today was the day that we learned that you might be breach".

And as I write this post, this is the exact time that we were hearing that news. My care provider had been worried about my blood pressure for weeks, and on this particular night she told me that if she didn't strip my membranes then we would need to make other plans (beyond the lovely water birth that I had envisioned). With what felt like her entire arm reaching in to separate the amniotic sac from my cervix, she uttered the words that I didn't want to hear "This feels like a butt". Of course we confirmed this news the next day, and quickly put a plan of action into place.

But the truth was that the damage was done. In hindsight, I can think of a thousand things that I could have done differently, that may or may not have changed the outcome, but nonetheless this week is a constant reminder. Tonight I was having a conversation with my parents about the subject, and Papa-G abruptly had to leave the room. Mama-G and I had a moment where I could tell that the memory of the fear was not so distant for her either. Her baby was cut open a year ago Friday. She then chose to acompany me back to my room while my husband and father accompanied the then nameless and helpless babyjama to her chamber of tubes and wires. She told me that as she waited for news during my surgery, that she kept saying "Why is this happening to my baby?"

We are non-medical people. All of my sisters and I were born at home. The hospital was the scary place for us. None of us had ever had major surgery, in fact it was my very first time in a hospital as a patient. There is no way for me to put into words the trauma that it was for this to be our experience. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic. We were very calm outwardly, and honestly it was a matter of being in crisis mode...stay placid to insure that you are able to deal with the next problem.

When I saw babyjama for the first time, she was being held out to me by some faceless nurse. She was winking and sticking her tongue out. I had been waiting so long for that moment, but I'd never pictured it that way. I had pictured getting to cuddle her immediately, knowing that I HAD DONE IT. I've heard that many women feel invincible after their birth, like superwoman. That is what I had wanted, how I wanted my daughter to see me for the first time. But there I was instead, at my most vulnerable, naked, organs exposed, shaved, with sterile people around me discussing what they would do for dinner, and congratulating each other.

They say that when a baby is born so is a mother, but they never had a c-section. By the time they finished stitching me up, babyjama was already on her way to the NICU. They wheeled me, my empty belly, and my shaking body back to my room. The minutes ticked into hours as I asked every over and over to be taken to see her. "Soon" was the answer. Always "soon". Never "now". Finally, I was taken to be at her side. I held her and kissed her and nursed her. Everything was going to be just fine, but wait "You're doing it wrong...you need to leave...get some sleep...we'll let you know how she is".

How is it possible to rest when your second heart, the heart that began it's beating inside you is not within reach? How will she get better without the sound of my heart? Why am I not good enough? Why don't I work? Why don't they get it? The looks I receive tell me I'm silly, naive, and just maybe had a little too much of those drugs.

You may be saying that it all worked out. You may be thinking that I'm a whiner, with no business feeling sorry for herself. You wouldn't be the first to think (or say) so. I allowed details of the birth story to be posted on ParentDish. I thought it would be therapeutic. It was not.

Maybe there is something naive about me. I wanted to have that huge superwoman surge at the end. As the days go by, more and more of them make me feel super, but every battle has been hard fought. I was hoping to start out with a boost of confidence after hours of labour, but instead I had to pool all my strength after babyjama's emergence, because the mother bear in me took some time to emerge herself. There is obviously a happy ending to this tale, but there were some sad parts too, and I'm giving myself permission to feel both the joy and the pain.

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Hot-Pocketitis?

2008-06-03T14:25:00.002-05:00

I'm in a rather Zen place today...Well in between my manic sessions of checking my e-mail that is. I'm glad to say that I seem to have recovered quite well since my last post. Anyway, the Zenness, seems to be telling me to take one thing at a time, and it will all work out. That's rather convenient since I just applied for a writing gig at about.com (which also explains the manic e-mail checking). The idea just fell in my lap. I happened to come across the guide site of Linda Lowen, and left a comment. Hours later I found myself feverishly searching for a sample good enough to get my foot in the door to be accepted into their training program (thanks for the help Linda). Think what you like about the fullness of my plate, but I'm sticking with, it was meant to be.

Our otherwise domestic blissfulness is being interrupted by a not so pleasant experience at the moment. Papajama has what we're calling Hot-Pocketitis + vomiting, which apparently got to our uber-sensitive pup, since he's been retching everywhere too. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then you need to go watch this YouTube clip. Anyway, he's home from summer school for the day(papajama, not the dog), sprawled out on the couch (well as sprawled out as you can be on a love seat). But, thanks to all the excitement last night, I'm kicking things into overdrive. I've almost completed my to do list for the day.

Work it, Mom!-- check
stinky putrid laundry-- check
refresh e-mail 50 more times-- check
babyjama naps-- check
babyjama bath-- check
blog-- check
shower for self-- status pending
shop for much needed food-- check
tidy livingroom for guests tomorrow-- requires immediate attention

There you have it, somehow it's all working out...see told you I was Zen.

Second guessing, and third guessing...

2008-06-01T22:58:00.002-05:00

...You get the picture. I've been struggling with something rather personal the past few days, and what a great way to deal with it...I'll let the entire internet in on it. The thing is, that I've been worried that I'm trying to do too much. A couple weeks ago, I told you that I had a plugged duct in my breast, and the first line that basically every source says in treating such a thing is "This may be the first sign that you're doing too much." Granted, this was at a time when the sky seemed to be falling. We had graduations, and operations, and work, and all sorts of things going on. So after resting and trying out different treatments, I and my breast healed right up.

But the "you may be doing to much" thing stuck in my head. I'm a homemaker who works part time at home. The thing is though that I want to have it all. I want to have a really cozy home, with great meals, tons of quality time with babyjama, a successful and fulfilling part time job/business, money for extras, plus have time for the organizations that I belong to. Last week it got to the point that I felt like a deer in the headlights. Babyjama was napping, and I felt like I had absolutely no idea how to prioritize. Should I work on the mountain of laundry? Or maybe the dishes? What about that e-mail that needs to go out? What about my weekly responsibilities for Work it, Mom!? What about the reading that I need to complete for one of my organizations? What about the blog? How about a nap (afterall you haven't slept much lately)? What about working on some bids for some new translation projects? And I only have 45 minutes? It felt like trying to save the world in less than an hour. At this point, I can't even tell you what I worked on during that nap, but the whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth.

What am I supposed to cut out? I feel really strongly about being right here for babyjama in these early years. Day care is absolutely not even a consideration for me. Maybe that's snobbish for me, but a very good friend and mentor tells me often that "We parent the best way we know how for the time we're in." I can't imagine anyone else giving babyjama the kind of care that I give to her (even though I have worked in two different, and wonderful day care settings).

So with that off the table, we could cut out housework. I guess this is plausible that my husband and I could work on housework together in the evenings and on weekends (that's mostly what we do right now), but sometimes I get so sick and tired of that being our "quality" time together in the evenings. That's when I start saying things like, "leave the dishes, let's just hang out, and I'll do them tomorrow"...which leads us back to the original scenario.

I suppose that I could cut down on working. Also somewhat plausible. I really do enjoy what I do. Also, another benefit of working even part time is that I don't have a long gap in my resume, plus I am making some wonderful business contacts and friends (let's not forget about friends). Plus there's the money...the money is pretty nice...not that I make a lot, but it's good to have that extra wiggle room every month, and I don't know how I could possibly find anything more flexible...it really is amazing.

My organization involvement...I really want to take this off the negotiation table too. I absolutely love the Mom's organization that I belong to. It's absolutely the highlight of my week. It's something that I do just for me, because it expands my mind, and I get to help others. I would be so so so sad to give it up, but I guess if I had to I could.

Blogging? but it doesn't take up that much time...really. I spend very short amounts of time on here a day...if I even blog once a day...I really don't want to give up something that I get so much satisfaction out of, but I guess it could be on the chopping block if it really came down to it...but man that would suck.

So there you have it, that's the dilemma that came up this past week. Oh and the kicker is...my plugged duct is back...that's right. So this looks like an issue that I can't just put on the back burner and forget about (wouldn't that be nice?). I'll let you know what I come up with...unless I decide to just ignore the whole thing until the right side of my torso explodes.

Downright Mad...and it's not about the stamps

2008-05-27T09:27:00.004-05:00

That would be my mood today. I think I didn't wake up on the right side of the bed this morning. So here I am peeved off more than a little. Too bad my Mom job requires some amount of cheeriness. Hopefully I'll be able to pull it together by the time that babyjama gets up from her morning nap. I have no real reason to be in a pissy mood this morning, I just am. It really isn't about the stamps...I can't find our book of stamps anywhere, and I really need to mail something, and I don't have time to go to the post office, but I've already spent more time looking than it would have taken me to just buy new ones, but I don't want to spend the money when we have perfectly good forever stamps somewhere in this damn house. Did I mention I'm pissy this morning? It seems that I'm not the only one in a funk, I was just over at Mir's blog, and it seems that she's having a doozy of a day as well.

I was also just reading Kristin Darzugas' new blog at Work it, Mom! I didn't know that she was now a single mom. I used to read her personal blog (back when she had one, and back in my pre-commenting days when I was too shy to actually write anything), and I idolized her family life. That was before I had a family of my own, and I could just imagine all the things that she talked about, with her little tiny son swirling his hand around in the toilet. Her chasing him around, and their whole family just being happy and laughing all the time....Now I know no family is like that, but I had elevated them to a sort of 21st century "Leave it to Beaver" status, only Kristin worked, and their house wasn't always spotless.

I guess I'm mourning the loss of that fantasy a little. It's strange how you feel like you know someone, but you don't actually know them, but you still feel the pain in their life. I was reading her post today, and I felt really happy for her, and sad for her too, which led me to feeling sad for me and the loss of my fantasy of what her life was like, which left me wondering if my life is a fantasy too. Is it possible that I've deluded myself into thinking that everything is perfect when it really isn't? I hope I'm not coming off like some crazy stalker. I guess I just get really into what I read....

This is a very abrupt segue to something seemingly unrelated. Two weeks ago we found a wild rabbit nest on the side of our house. I have been fretting and worrying about those tiny little bunnies ever since. You see the nest is in a rather precarious location. It's right next to our fence, and our dog is drawn to the spot....even though the rabbits are out of his reach, and the neighbors also have a dog who has already eaten one of the baby rabbits. It takes all of my will power to make myself leave those little rabbits alone. I want to go out there and cheer them on, nurture them, guard them, and sometimes I even fantasize about nursing them...although I'm not sure how the anatomy of that would work out.

Anyway, a few days ago, I realized that if I were to somehow intervene and help those babies live (assuming that I could actually do that), that the young mother will not learn to place her nest in a better spot for the next time that she has a litter (or whatever they call a group of baby bunnies). I would actually be making things worse for subsequent baby bunnies if I were to interfere. So I guess the way that I'm relating all of this bad mood stuff, and the blogosphere stuff, and the bunny stuff, is that everything feels so uncontrollable. And even if it were controllable, it seems that it shouldn't be controlled. I have to think that things work out the way that they're supposed to, even when they don't work out how we want them to.

Silly Songs with Mamajama

2008-05-23T08:40:00.003-05:00

I am a complete dork, and I'm not going to sit here and pretend that motherhood made me that way. No, I was a dork long before babyjama came around. I make strange noises around my husband (in a usually unsuccessful attempt to make him laugh), I make up new words to songs, I sing operatically at the top of my voice in the shower (unless of course babyjama is asleep). I've done all of these things all along, but now that babyjama is around, they don't seem quite so strange. Plus, she actually does think it's funny, and it really does entertain her.

The noises that I make are not all that creative. I make biting and chomping noises when I act like I'm eating her feet. The lyrics that I make up usually have some combination of babyjama's name, and nonsense words, and they definitely don't always rhyme. But it's okay, babyjama thinks they're delightful, so that's all that matters.

Wednesday babyjama had the biggest poop that I have ever seen come out of such a small body (this is good, because she had been eating a lot the past couple of days with no poops...TMI? Sorry about that.) Anyway, I was telling her how wonderful her poop was as I was changing her diaper when the stench hit me.

**Begin Veggie Tales Fantasy**

Professor Asparagus (in a stuffy brittish accent)"Welcome to silly songs with Mama. This is the part of the show where Mama comes out and sings a silly song." (That's supposed to be a Veggie Tales reference.)

"Stinky Poop" (To the tune of "Veggie Tales")

(Chorus)
Stinky PoooOOOOooop
Stinky PooooOOOOooop
Stinky PooooOOOOooop
Stin-ky Poop

Professor Asparagus: "It was at this point in the song that Mama realized that she had no other words to her song, and she was not coming up with them quickly enough. In a panic she just started to sing the first verse."

(Verse 1)

Broccoliiiiiii, celeryyyyyy, gotta beeeee, stinky poop
Liiiiiima beeeaans, collard greeeeens, peachy keeeeeen, stinky poop
Cauliflower, Sweet and sour, half an hour, stinky poop

(Chorus)

(Verse 2)
There's never ever ever beeen a poop like stinky poop
There's never ever ever been a show like stinky poop
It's time for stinky poooooOOOOOooooooOOOOOoooooop

Professor Asparugus: "realizing that the song had come to an end, and that she had just turned a wholesome children's theme song into an ode to smelly feces, Mama released babyjama from her (now) finished diaper change, and sheepishly walked away"

I can't seem to get enough of her...

2008-05-22T09:05:00.005-05:00

...if that makes me a freak, I'll just deal with it.

I was thinking about posting a funny poop story, but maybe that will come tomorrow. Instead I have a secret to tell you. I take my baby with me whenever I can. It's strange for me when people assume that I always want to get away from babyjama. When she was first born, there were the constant offers from others to babysit.

"If you ever need a sitter, just call."

Then came the passive aggressive tripe.

With eyebrows raised, "You know, you're going to have to leave her with someone sometime."

Yes, I know, and we do. Sometimes babyjama goes to my parent's house, while papajama and I go out to dinner with only adults, or go to a play, or movie. This has happened probably between eight and ten times in her short life.

When I tell people that we've only left her that many times, I get one of two looks. The one that says "Oh you poor dear, you never get out of the house." or "You are psycho and you cling to that child too much...She's never going to wean and you'll be sending your dirty nightshirts (for her to sniff) along with bottles of pumped breastmilk with her to college."

The second response, while annoying, is actually easier to deal with. I can tell that this person really doesn't know me or my child, and that's actually okay with me. I know that every day babyjama gets more independent, and that trying to force her to do that more quickly wouldn't make the process happen any faster. You see, as she grows more comfortable in her skin she ventures out to do more on her own. It's a gradual process, and it's good for both of us.

The first response is actually more difficult to deal with. This person has a completely different world view than papajama and I do, and they don't even realize that they're stepping on our toes with their sympathy.

The other night papajama had a great conversation about this topic. You know, the kind where you're both so excited to make connections to what the other is saying that you talk over each other and everything becomes a jumble...yeah, I love those. I was saying how people really don't get us, and papajama said he agreed with that. He explained that the reason that people don't get us though is that they have a completely different idea about how life works.

The Other View of Life:

Yes, I do have the audacity to post about what others think about life. This is the sort of thing that I see all the time in certain publications about life balance and parenting. The idea that in order to remain true to yourself, you must continue to keep up with all of your activities, hang out with all of your friends, keep working on your career, etc.

If, for some very sad reason, you do not keep up with all of this, these are the words to describe you. Tied down, unfulfilled, lost, etc.

----

Our Life View:

I read some advice somewhere that said something along the lines of: It is possible to have it all, but not all at once. This phase of your life may be more about kids, but the next phase might be more about career, friends, or whatever. This really resonated with me. I know that I can't do EVERYTHING that I want to all at once. Right now, my life is mostly about babyjama, but someday I know that the focus will shift again.

When I first got engaged, Mama-G and I had a talk. She said that as you make choices in your life, certain doors do close to you, but other possibilities open up. For example, before getting engaged, I had the choice of continuing on in my relationship with papajama, or choosing to move on to a different relationship. But until I had made a decision about who my life partner was going to be, I didn't have the option of having a family. A student doesn't have the choice of specializing in a certain field of medicine until he/she has decided to study medicine in the first place.

I really liked the way that papajama described parenthood. He talked about how we chose to be parents because that's what we wanted the focus of our life to be, and so yes, we spend most of our time with our daughter, and that's how we want it to be.

----

I am absolutely not suggesting that if you go out and do other things, that you don't like your children, but I normally feel like people don't understand how I feel when they suggest that I go out more often without babyjama. The truth is that during this stage of babyjama's life, I find her to be quite portable. No, I wouldn't take her out to a bar, or movie theater, but she can go to restaurants, stores, outdoor venues, museums, libraries, and countless other places. When we go out, we just normally take her with us. So, instead of the fancy dinner party, we'll be having a backyard cookout for papajama's 30th birthday that's coming up, and instead of hanging out with our posh friends, in some low lit back room, we'll be going for a walk in the cool night air with our ice cream or smoothies or whatever. That's what's fun for us, but if we ever need a sitter...

Reasons NOT to Spank: A List of Resources

2008-05-21T09:06:00.001-05:00

After posting a few days ago about harsh discipline, I got interested in looking up things about spanking. I'm highly against spanking and always have held that conviction (I was not spanked as a child, and understand that spanking does not equal discipline). After speaking to my father about the issue, I decided to go ahead and make a list of great resources that talk about why spanking in detrimental, as well as some great resources for those looking for alternatives to corporal punishment.

Reasons NOT to spank:

1. Jordan Riak gives a very comprehensive list of reasons not to spank in his article "Plain Talk About Spanking"
2. An APA article writes about the findings of Psychologist Elizabeth Thompson Gershoff in her study about how spanking effects childhood and adult behaviors.
3. In 2006 CRIN published this article about the UN. Apparently being hit could be a violation of a person's human rights. Who knew?
4. If one is interested in analyzing the rod verses in the bible, here's a great article all about it.
5. Dr. Phil has been an opponent of spanking from the very start, and though I feel that his recent show was not outspoken enough, I think it was a good start. Here is the research that he has compiled on spanking.
6. An article on spanking as it relates to sexual behavior as the child grows into an adult.
7. I really like this entire website.
8. Dr. Sears' article 10 Reasons Not to Spank
9. The Natural Parent has this article. I like the "Spare the rod, spoil the child" section.

Finding Another Way
1. This is a great article from iVillage talking about alternatives to spanking.
2. Essortment published this article on how a different (more positive) approach to parenting can keep parents from hitting their children.
3. Dr. Phil on alternatives to spanking.
4. An entire page of great resources for people who don't want to spank.

Bloggers on Spanking
1. Papa-G has recently started a blog (which I've been pestering him to do for a while). Here is his first post on spanking, and here is his second.
2. Papa-G links to The Thinking Mom, who also did an update on spanking recently.
3. I enjoyed reading this post at Fairly Ordinary.

I expected to find a whole lot more bloggers out there who were speaking out against spanking. Either I'm searching the wrong thing, or the pro-spankers are really taking over (or non-spankers like myself feel like we should have moved on by now). Anyway, I hope that the resources are helpful. Thanks to Papa-G for helping me so much with my research! I have a feeling that this isn't the last post I will ever do on this topic, so let me know if there is anything that I did not touch on that you're interested in. For those of you who are absolutely going to disagree with me, that's fine, we can both just go along, and I will quietly judge you for what I think it unnecessarily harsh punishment of your child and you can quietly judge me for spoiling mine....after all, we both know we're right.

Doctors orders say to rest

2008-05-20T09:33:00.003-05:00

So it's official, I feel like a putrid pile of crap. Sunday afternoon I noticed a painful lump on my right breast, and it hurt a bit to nurse. It was a plugged duct. Seeing as how the care recommendation for a plugged duct is to rest, that's what I did. I layed on the couch and relaxed and nursed, and then layed in bed and relaxed and nursed.

Yesterday was surely going to be a busy day since my dad's surgery (remember his collar bone is in five pieces) was scheduled for the early afternoon, and Yitto was graduating that night. So in the morning I went over to help get my dad ready for his surgery, and pick up our tickets for graduation. The rest of the morning/afternoon was supposed to be for resting...I didn't want my plugged duct to turn into mastitis after all. So I tried to nurse babyjama, hoping that she would nap so that I could get some much needed down time. Nope. She wouldn't have any of it. In fact, she was probably MORE active yesterday than usual. I would bring her into the living room from whatever mischief she was getting into (playing in the dog water, pulling toilet paper off the roll, pulling up on the oven, trying to pick paint off the front door to eat), lay back down on the couch, and rest for about 10 seconds before having to repeat the whole thing.

By the time Papajama got home from work I had given up on letting her play independently. I was pacing the house with her in my arms. I figured that the continuous motion was exerting less energy than constantly getting up and down. My symptoms had worsened in that time, and I now had a red and inflamed breast, a pounding headache, and I ached EVERYWHERE.

Yitto's speech was the highlight of the entire graduation. She did a "Waitress" (You know that movie that has the actress who played Felicity in it) themed speech that was all about pie...Loved it! However, there were horrible things about the graduation too that I will have to get into at a later date.

By the time we left graduation I was feeling light-headed, weak and feverish. We went out to eat, and I only had two bites of my food before we had to come home.

Luckily I was able to get a pretty good night's sleep, and so I no longer have the fever. My head is still pounding, but babyjama is sleeping right now, so it's good to get a little time to relax. I don't know who came up with the fantasy that you can just climb into bed when you don't feel good and you have kids. That sure isn't how it works at our house.

See, I'm MAGIC...he said so

2008-05-17T14:11:00.004-05:00

I'm writing to your from papajama's computer. His internet has been down for a few days and he is doing some work on mine. I asked if I could try and fix the internet on his...he sorta grunted and five minutes later I announced it was working. Magic is just science we don't understand (at least that's what papajama says), and I really don't understand how I got this thing working.

It looks like we're in the eye of the storm. This weekend is the one and only time that we have nothing planned from now until the end of June. That's right people. I have been bitching for the last two weeks about how much has been going on in our lives and now after a glance at our calendar of events I'm about to hyperventilate...not really...I don't do that. Instead I'm protesting in my homebody way. I am sitting in my pajamas at 2 pm on Saturday afternoon, and not planning on budging for another couple of hours. I truly am worried about how the next few weeks are going to play out, since there is so much to do...and I can here my dad telling me right now "You have to embrace those feelings too." I want to brush him off or say something cutting back, but I know he's right...jerk.

My monthly 5 day long PMS migraine seems to be subsiding a bit, so I'm glad about that, and papajama's big sis is coming over for some quality time with us and her niece later on this afternoon (I may or may not have showered by the time she gets here...and so hugs will be contingent upon that.) Speaking of contingent....I used a big word in my post yesterday that I apparently have no business using. I called babyjama's nap prophetic, and papajama has informed me that I meant proverbial (which he then spelled for me p-r-o-v-e-r-b-i-a-l....he's a brave man).

Babyjama is so close to walking. I don't blame her for not taking that first step yet though. Papajama and I nearly go into convulsions every time she starts standing...I wouldn't want to walk to crazy people either. She's speaking full sentences now...but in a language that I could never hope to understand. The little cutie!

I did get to watch the spanking episode of Dr. Phil yesterday, and want to get a chance to read what others have to say about it before I post on spanking as I promised. Did anyone else catch it?

The Morning Anouncements

2008-05-16T08:28:00.003-05:00

Babyjama is taking the prophetic morning nap, and so I'll try to type as quietly as possible (I swear that girl has super duper hearing). I have a few morning announcements to make.

First off, I want to talk to the middle aged jerk who tried to intimidate me off the road yesterday. You may have been driving a big, black, shiny SUV, and you may think that wherever you had to go was so important that you needed to honk at a Mom with her baby in the back seat, and then zoom around us, but I'll tell you something. Somewhere, someday, I hope a Mom with a little less sleep than me comes across your path. Watch out mister.

Hopefully she'll get you in a headlock and force you to smell her body that hasn't been washed in 5-7 days, and as you try to twist and wriggle away you'll notice that her shirt didn't used to have that yellow and white pattern on it, and that you're face to face with what can only be a mixture of spit up and baby crap.

To the ants who are mostly gone from our kitchen. I'm sorry that I killed so many of you. You give me the heebie geebies when I see you crawling all over my dirty dishes so you had to go. I am hopeful that I will not have to resort to such tactics in the future, but rest assured, if you enter my kitchen, you are not safe. I do try and be respectful of all the ants that die at the hand of my washcloth. I give them a nice burial at sea, and if bodies get stuck to my washcloth I try not to dismember them as I wash them down the drain.

To the two women who almost caused a head on collision with me earlier this week with my baby in the car. You shall not be so lucky. If we should ever cross paths again I shall do everything I can to dismember you before I dispose of your bodies.

That is all. (Yitto, that was in honor of your last day of high school)

My first clunker

2008-05-15T22:23:00.003-05:00

Dear babyjama,

I read all over the internet these posts from Mamas to their children, and I have to admit that I am jealous every time I read one. I'm jealous that they have such a way with their words, and and can immortalize their children's childhood that way. So here is my clunky first ever letter just for you. Today you're approximately 11.5 months old. I have absolutely no idea what you weigh these days so don't try asking that one. Today you wore what I find to be one of your cutest little outfits. It's a little blue babydoll shirt with matching shorts. I'm looking forward to getting to pick out your clothes for a while longer...because I know that since I absolutely love all the girly clothes, that you will inevitably hate them. Today while your hair was still wet from your bath I formed it up into a mohawk, and when it dried you had one little tuft sticking straight up in the middle. I'm sure that you won't like that when you're older, but I thought it was adorable and left it that way all day.

This past week you have learned a new skill. You now know how to point. And you do. At everything that you find enjoyment in. Sometimes it's a little awkward. Like last weekend when we were at your Aunt's graduation, and I was carrying you around in the sling, and you insisted that pointing at the security guard who was trying not to look at me in my kangaroo-like baby carrying apparatus. But you did point...as we paced back and forth and back and forth always always right on target with that little finger.

Three weeks ago I bragged to all my friends that you were saying three words. Now I'm not so sure you were actually saying words, but just saying things that sounded like words at very opportune times...that's what you get for having a linguist for a mother. She will always overanalyze all of your verbal development. But again today I'm pretty sure that as you crouched on your knees in the dining room, with a stack of newspapers, that you meticulously ripped in half one sheet at a time, that you looked up and said "nooooo" with that sweet little tiny voice of yours, and that perfectly O shaped mouth.

Leo has now become your most beloved playmate. Too bad he doesn't feel quite the same way about you. Don't get me wrong. He does love you, but he wishes that you would love him from afar. You see, you love to take big handfuls of his fur and stand up next to him while he lays down and sits. I'm not sure if it's the handfuls of fur that he minds, or the fact that we won't allow him to play rough with you. Either way though, he looks at me with eyes saying "please do something" many many times during the day...and most of the time that means that we end up finding something else for you to do. But sometimes it means that I pick you up and move you, and you crawl as fast as you can back to Leo. You see, you've been a strong willed girl right from the beginning, and you're not easily deterred when you set your mind to something (just ask the doctor who tried to turn you while you were still in utero, or better yet ask the midwife that laid me upside down on an ironing board to try and turn you before that, or better yet, ask me. I'm the one who did handstands in the swimming pool to try and turn you before that, but my little breach girl would have none of it). So there you go my darling girl, you're going to be One in a couple of weeks, and I can't believe it. I love you babe.
Mama

Duck and Cover: Life Comes Fast

2008-05-15T08:39:00.002-05:00

Obviously life comes at you from all sides (after all we do live in a 10 dimensional world...by the way this video will blow your mind), but I'm starting to see a new aspect of what my mom sometimes says. When we talk about the past she will sometimes say "That seems like another lifetime" followed by "I feel like I've lived several lives in just one lifetime". I normally take that to mean that the tone of what is going on in her life right now is so completely different that it was a few years ago (and I'm sure that's partially what she means). I'm starting to see another aspect of what she is talking about though. These past two weeks I feel like I have been pulled in an enormous number of directions, and it also seems that all the things that have happened can't have possibly taken place in that short time span.

Take yesterday for example, I have no idea how I did all that I did yesterday. I cooked three meals, worked for two different websites, blogged, gardened (well I drove posts into the ground with a tube-hammer, while my now-injured father called me farmer girl), took care of babyjama, watched a movie, ran errands around town, played with my iPhone (almost nonstop), and washed what seemed like every dish that we own, while trying to get rid of our ant infestation in our kitchen. Today is supposed to be more relaxing right?

Hmm let's see the to do list includes:

Laundry (at least drying the stuff in the washer so it doesn't start to smell)
More dishes (they aren't dirty yet, but they will be...oh and have I mentioned that we don't have a dishwasher?)
Cleaning the bathroom (this is technically an optional part of the list, but you wouldn't want to see what it looks like right now)
Working for two websites.
Playing with iPhone (not optional).
Changing diapers and nursing and playing with babyjama.
Blogging (I guess I can check that one off)
Making a Linner for papajama (he will be in a meeting from 4:15 till 9 PM tonight with no chance to eat)
Taking papajama from school to meeting while he eats said Linner (have I mentioned that we have only one car?)
Cook three meals for myself...and babyjama (although most of her food I cook up without even having to think....yes I'm talking about nursing)
Misc. crap that will certainly come up.

Hmmm....that's strange I don't see shower on that list...I wonder what that means? If you're thinking that the tone of this post is whiny, think again. I'm much too tired to whine. Okay, now's your chance people, leave me a comment about the entire lifetimes that you live in a day...I know I'm not the only one!

PS. Coming soon: A post on spanking with resources that make me feel justified for being judgmental about parents hitting kids.

How I've missed thee

2008-05-14T08:35:00.001-05:00

Dearest bloggy friends,

I feel as though I have galavanted all over creation without a single word with you. How I miss ranting on about things that annoy, tickle, and perplex me. So here I am hopefully returning for good.

The big news around the jama household is that we actually are stimulating the economy this week rather than paying down debt as we had originally planned. Last night we dragged our butts out of the house after dinner (that time is usually reserved for blobbing on the couch...or ya know talking to each other). But no, last night we did something that made me very very nervous. We spent what seems to me like obscene amounts of money on gadgets that are way too much fun. Yes my friends, I am now the proud owner of an (cue heavenly music) iPhone, and papajama is the proud owner of a red Blackberry Curve. And yes we are insane.

My frugal side is going haywire, but my let's have some FUN side is having a party...in the end, I figure life is too short to not have uber-cool toys every once in a while. After all, Papajama and I have never spent this kind of money for fun before....and it's tax deductible right?

Sugar-Free Isn't Always Sugar-Free

2008-05-08T06:36:00.005-05:00

I was perusing a book called Sugar-Free Toddlers by Susan Watson yesterday, and got really into reading it. Apparently sugar is bad for you....no one is surprised? Well, this is the part of the book that really got to me.

"The Tidewater Detention Homes (a juvenile detention facility) in Tidewater, Virginia found that by significantly reducing just the amount of sugar in adolescents' diets, the rate of antisocial behavior dropped 44 percent. They also found that there were 82 percent fewer assault incidents, 77 percent fewer theft incidents and 55 percent fewer incidents of refusal to obey requests!" (Watson, 9)

There were also interesting facts about diabetes, heart disease, and tooth decay, but I had pretty much heard those before. One thing that I had not heard was that "The typical person living the the United States consumes an average of 125 pounds of refined sugar per year. In order to eat the equivalent of eight ounces of refined sugar, a person would need to consume thirty-two apples." I wanted to do the math, so here it is. 125 lbs. is 250 portions of 8 ounces each. So 250x32=8000. So one would have to eat 8000 apples in a year in order to eat the amount of refined sugar that an average person eats. But 8000 in a year isn't really tangible to me. 8000/365=21.9. Yes, a person would have to eat almost 22 apples a day to keep up with the average Joe on sugar intake. Watson's whole point behind telling us the sugar content in an apple versus the sugar content in refined sugar was to point out that our bodies are not built to process that kind of sugar.

I have always thought that I was pretty savvy when it came to eating sugar-free. My Mom did not allow refined sugar in our house, or to go coursing through our little bodies. So we opted for other sweetners. Honey, maple syrup, and SuCaNat, were all fair game. Watson says that honey and maple syrup are not low enough in sugar to include in the recipes for her book. SuCaNat is not mentioned...but it's somewhat like brown sugar (which is out) so who knows. And if you were contemplating using splenda, corn syrup, or nutrasweet, think again...those are artificial sweetners, and they are soooo off limits.

I think I'll be trying out some of the recipes in the book (They do look absolutely delicious...for little people AND big people), but I don't know if I'll ever go sugar-free the way Susan Watson proposes. But I do think I'll pay even more attention to the sugar content of my daughter's food. What is your approach and attitude toward refined sugar?

PS. If you're interested in the book, here's a link to it on Amazon.

When discipline gets ugly

2008-05-07T15:24:00.000-05:00

**Dear bloggy friends, The past few days have been unbelievably craptastic, so excuse me if I take a few days to process them before writing about them in detail. I could give you the rundown of what happened, but in depth analysis will take some time.**

I consider myself to be a rather intuitive person. That's why I named my blog mamasense. I feel like the gut is the best way to make decisions. Not that logically thinking problems through is a problem, but the gut guides you even when convention, society, or whoever tells you differently.

Opening myself up to being intuitive in this way has had some side effects that I didn't exactly plan for though.

My sensitivity to real or perceived slights to me, my family, our dog, etc. has gone through the roof. Comments about my weight have become very unwelcome. Before having babyjama, I was not sensitive about my weight in the least...aside from certain comments in elementary school suggesting that I was anorexic. These days however, if anyone says anything beyond "You've lost the baby weight haven't you? You look great." It gets under my skin, and I am left to wonder...was that a compliment or an insult?

Also, I have become so empathetic to others, that someone telling me their problems can send me reeling for days. If someone tells me that they're having marital problems, I stew and fret about this for days...Even if we aren't that close. The car accident on Saturday, left me feeling physically ill. When I see a parent being (what I consider to be) unnecessarily harsh, I think about the child for days, hoping and wishing that there was something that I could do. It's especially problematic when I see things happen that would have been a huge blow to me as a child. You see, my mama is a very sensitive person herself, and understood that children are sensitive beings. So she never embarrassed us in public by yelling at us or disciplining us in front of other people (embarrassing us by telling stories about us, or acting weird in general?...that's another story, but I think every mom does that.)

So, I just recently witnessed a Mom humiliating her daughter for not being polite enough around company (she had told an adult not to touch her toy). Mom yelled at the little girl, pulled her arm, and when that wasn't enough, as the little girl pulled and pulled to get away, the mother got a smile on her face and then let go of her arm. This effectively made the two year old fall down and bawl...for which she got in trouble.... After the exchange, the mother had a smug look on her face that said to me that she was glad that people could see that she wasn't spoiling her kids. It was such a tiny little incident in their life, but my lip was curling...I know I talk about not judging other Moms, but this really got under my skin. What was wrong with pulling her toddler aside and letting her know that her tone had been rude? Why did this mother take such pleasure in humiliating this little girl? Is it necessary to force children to bend to our will no matter what? I doubt that that toddler even knew what she had done wrong before she was in trouble. What is wrong with explaining unacceptable behavior to a child? I think it would go a lot further.

Let's discuss thoughts on discipline.

Twerps, Clavicles, and Blessings

2008-05-04T19:10:00.003-05:00

Grumble, grumble, grumble...This is me not in a great mood. After 7 hours total in the car this weekend, 7 hours on an air mattress, 58 hours without power at our house, 6 hours with a headache that is radiating down into my neck, and a sudden (when are they not sudden?) car wreck (my dad and sister, not us...everyone's going to be fine) , it's all I can do to not grumble myself into a corner and pout.

Yet there's so much to do. Our fridge needs cleaning out, our bags need unpacking...I'm sure there's more, but I can't think of a dang thing else. Okay, this is me pulling myself out of my funk to do a little over-the-internet sharing that I'm growing so fond of.

The car wreck happened last night. My dad, Papa-G, was taking my second from littlest sister, Yitto, to a friend's house (she's 16..in case you were wondering). Yitto had been unsure about asking for the ride in the first place (I don't know why...perhaps she was having a rare teenage epiphany about how much parents actually do for us), but went ahead and asked him to take her anyway. On the way, they got into a good conversation in the car and she decided that she had made the right decision in requesting transportation.

Soon they were going through an intersection that they travel through often (it's on the way to Yitto's school). Right then a car doing about 60 plowed into the side of the minivan. Luckily, onlookers were able to immediately call 911. What ensued was a frantic cell phone call to my mother, Mama-G. Yitto was dazed, and didn't really know what do. She asked Papa-G if he was alright, and because of the jarring force of the impact, all he could think to answer was no. So all she could think to say to Mama-G was that she was okay, but Papa-G was NOT okay, not OKAY, not okay.

And the other driver? A drunk teenager who was cruising through a red light. One of the women at the scene of the accident said that he couldn't have been more than 16 by the looks of him. He is in jail right now, so I guess he's just fine. That Fucking TWERP!!!

Yitto and Papa-G were transported to the hospital by ambulance, but Yitto was released very soon. Papa-G, on the other hand, has a broken collarbone. I broke mine (twice) when I was 11, and although I like the story of it (because it makes me sound a little bit like a bad ass), the experience was utterly painful and I don't recommend it to anyone. They both seem alright, but look like they need a lot of rest. Papa-G also has an air of pissed off about him, and I can tell that he's thinking about all the work in the garden that isn't going to get done because of this stupid inconvenience of a fracture....yeah, he really is a bad ass.

Here's the part of the story with the cool twist though. The woman who let Yitto use her cell phone to call my mom last night, called back this afternoon. She wanted to make sure that Yitto and Papa-G were alright, and to tell Mama-G something more. You see, last night when the accident happened, Papa-G and Yitto had been heading East. This woman had been heading West, but was yielding at the green light while Papa-G and Yitto went through the intersection so that she could make a left turn. If she hadn't been waiting for Papa-G and Yitto to go through the intersection, then that would have been her, her husband, and their 4 small children that would have been hit. She and Mama-G cried for a little while on the phone together, as only two mothers can. Who knows what would have happened had Papa-G and Yitto not been there at that time. Before getting the call, Mama-G admitted that they had felt a little like they were being punished for something. Now, it seems that this accident was in some way a blessing. It's amazing how different things can look when you add another perspective.

Okay, so I'm feeling less grumpy already. Thanks for the cathartic release.

Happy Dancing Trees and Other Gusty Tales

2008-05-02T12:59:00.000-05:00

I was jolted awake at 2 AM this morning by a very loud crash outside of our bedroom window, followed by what sounded like a train rushing toward our house. Before even thinking about it, I grunted at papajama, and scooped up babyjama and ran into the hallway (my thinking was that whatever was coming, it would be best to be as far away from the windows as possible). Earlier on in the evening we had had a tornado touchdown a couple of miles from our house, and had spent part of the evening in the basement as the sirens wailed outside (I worked on the curtains for the living room while papajama entertained babyjama), and the rest of the evening in front of the TV flipping between weather reports and "Carrier" on PBS (that's a fantastic program by the way). Anyway, by 10:30 everything seemed to have died down, so we went to bed.

So after running down the hall baby in arms, papajama and I edged out into the dining room. We had left the blinds fully open that night since we'd been watching for a tornado before going to bed. Outside it looked strangely misty, but upon closer inspection, this was only because the wind was blowing the rain completely sideways, which was creating a white misty effect. It took me a minute to adjust to the misty appearance outside, and then I noticed the trees. They looked like they were cartoon trees doing a happy little dance out in our back yard (I must have been a little groggy still to think that huge branches swinging back and forth next to our house looked happy...This morning papajama described the trees as looking like the whomping willow, and that seems a little more appropriate so we'll go with that.) A few minutes into the storm, I looked at papajama and said (in that accusatory tone that I reserve for only him when things seem to be going inexplicably wrong) "Why aren't the sirens going off? Did all the weather people go home, and just leave us to fend for ourselves?" (Apparently they reserve those sirens for tornadoes...apparently gusts of wind at 60-80 mph aren't serious enough..WTF?!)

A few minutes later, all the commotion outside had died down. We then realized that we had no power (and therefore no alarm clock), and we debated about how we would get papajama up for work. I finally convinced him that I wake up enough times in the night, that there was no real worry that he would oversleep. As promised, I woke him up at 4:45, and there were no problems there.

Las night we had also discussed what to do with the car. On Friday mornings, papajama goes to breakfast with his coworkers before work, and so I don't generally drive him. I normally sleep an extra half hour on those days, and then need every speck of babyjama's nap times to finish work during the day. So today was to be no different. Papajama kissed my groggy mostly asleep forehead on his way out this morning, and I thought nothing of it.

I awoke this morning feeling that I had had a night of very strange weather related dreams. I could then hear the voice of our neighborhood mother hen outside my window (she's always first on the scene when something goes wrong). The night's events came rushing back. So I drug myself out of bed, showered quickly, and went out to chat with the neighbor for a moment.

The night before, we could make out that there were some large branches down outside, but couldn't see what had happened. In the light of day all was clear. Our next door neighbors have two holes in their roof from having half a tree fall on their house, plus half of their deck has been knocked down, and I have no idea what kind of water damage they have on the inside (poor things...and they're trying to sell their house too).

The damage to our house seems minuscule in comparison. One corner of our fence is down, and the power line running from the back of the house got knocked down as well. Anyway, I was so busy worrying about my neighbors this morning that it took me a while to remember that 1. papjama had put a load of diapers in the washer last night. 2. I had no way of drying said diapers (power was still out). 3. babyjama only had one diaper left. 4. I had no way to call anyone (remember we don't have cell phones, and we only have cordless phones--requiring electricity) 5. I had let papajama take the car, and had no transportation. After a brief fit that mentally fluctuated between "I don't need any help...this is how they lived in the olden days" and "Who the heck is gonna help me?!", I pulled myself together and asked the mother hen neighbor to use her phone. I first called my landlord to let her know what was going on (I didn't consider until after calling that it was before 8 AM... I wonder if that's why she was grumpy on the phone). Then I called my dad (Papa-G)...he wasn't going to be able to help until a little around lunchtime (he was home without a car as well). So I called papajama's work. I left a message asking him to come home before school started (even though I knew that would leave him with horrible visions dancing in his head).

So here we are, I did get the car back, and now we're hanging out at my parent's house...in the lap of luxury with refrigeration, internet access, and a telephone. I took a couple of pictures of the damage this morning, so hopefully I can show them to you one of these days. Anyone else deal with those storms last night?

Kicking Hyacinth Bucket (it's "bouquet") to the Curb

2008-05-01T07:45:00.000-05:00

If you don't know Hyacinth Bucket, you must have never watched "Keeping Up Appearances", I've seen the show enough times to know that every time she gets into a car with her husband it's.

"Mind the cyclist Richard!!"

"Where?"

"Right there."

"They're on the sidewalk!"

Aaah yes, warning your husband to not run over someone who isn't even in the roadway...Classic. After getting a few "Are you kidding me?" looks from papajama lately, I have started monitoring myself in the car...plus I read Mir's post on murdering a squirrel yesterday. In my defense, I really did think that a large portion of the car had fallen off before shrieking like a banshee that one time. How was I to know he had just run over a curb? Anyway, so I thought it might help if I took my automotive anxiety down a notch.

Let me preface this story by saying that papajama is a very good driver...okay now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business. Yesterday, Wednesday, is our no TV night of the week. Most of the time that means that we just sit around and stare at each other (apparently too much TV and computer can turn you into a zombie or something). Last night, we decided to venture out and get some of our shopping done for the month. We have many many gift giving events coming up in the month of May, so we went where all people go to find a large variety of brightly colored things Target (That's pronounced "tarzhay"...the "zh" is a voiced postalveolar fricative...no idea what I'm talking about? That's because I'm a linguist.

Linguist:
Noun
1. a person who studies language, but has no flipping clue how to communicate in social situations 2. one who enjoys using large technical terms to perplex others because... (see 1).

Luckily I'm only half linguist so I can translate. The "zh" is the beginning sound in Zsa Zsa Gabore's name...Phew! That was a long aside.)

On the highway, getting close to our exit into Target land, an older woman was trying to merge. She wasn't speaking papajama's highway language though. When papajama merges, he speeds up, and then tries to speed in front of any cars that are in his proximity. If they have to tap their brakes, all the better. So, he doesn't understand the tiptoe version of merging. Look over and see if anyone is coming, wait to see if they're going to let you in, etc. etc. etc. So papajama didn't get out of the way. Next thing you know, this little old lady floors it as she drives around our car in her 1998 special edition Honda Accord.

"That's funny, she was very angry with me." Said papajama. "She waved her fist at me."

"Yes she was very angry, and that wasn't her fist." At this point I'm trying my hardest not to burst out laughing. "She was giving you full on middle finger action."

"Why was she upset?" Papajama perplexed.

"Most people like it when the cars around them move over to let them in."

"Oh...so that was me being kind of a d-bag huh?"

"Yeah, yeah it was"

Okay, so I'm probably not cured of all of my backseat driving habits, but at least this was funny. We were still laughing when we got out of the car.

Karma Is Hot on My Trail

2008-04-30T08:24:00.000-05:00

So, I broke the parenting bro code a while back (and for those of you who watch "How I Met Your Mother, that was a reference to this week's show). And yesterday, karma reared its ugly head.

Yesterday we had a playdate with some friends, and a few minutes into the playdate, babyjama wanted nothing to do with being in Mama's arms. So I put her down, and she went straight for our hosts camera, electrical cords, laptop, name anything that she wasn't supposed to have and she went for it. New and exciting toys everywhere, and she wanted to go for the stuff she couldn't play with.

Here's where the fun part comes in. Normally, babyjama is pretty easy going, and if you take her away from something that is off limits she's fine. In fact she usually thinks it's pretty funny, and it's pretty easy to get her interested in something else. Not yesterday though, hoo boy. Yesterday she absolutely screeched every time I tried to redirect her. Gah...doesn't she know that playdates are for mama to get a chance to socialize?

A couple of hours later, I was thinking back on the situation...didn't it remind me of something? And then my horrible indiscretion came rushing back to me. A little over a month ago I was at a gathering, and one of the sets of parents was having a gawd-awful time trying to get their son (about babyjama's age now) to stop trying to climb the stairs. Every time they pulled him away he would arch and yell and generally protest. I smugly smiled to myself, and thought about what a good little angel I had. I wish flashing lights had gone off.

So here I am roughly a month later, and I'm thinking back on all the times that I have quietly judged the mother next to me...Man am I in for it. These are just the times that I can remember of the top of my head. There was the time that the little girl was throwing a fit about going into the grocery store, the time that an eight year old boy threw a tantrum in the middle of a restaurant and his family was asked to leave, the time that the mother was screaming at her kids at the park, and drove away at breakneck speed (good god I hope that's not a look into my future). Hopefully this karmic confession will help me at least a little...but just to be safe, if you need me I'll be in my closet. Have the tables ever turned on you? Have you ever judged someone for something, and had the exact same thing happen in your life?