Archive for February, 2008

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recommend me some books!

how’s that for grammar?

I have a credit with a bookseller and I don’t know what to get.  Any suggestions?

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but it is completely impossible to have your indignity taken seriously when you’re wearing candy-striped pajamas with a giraffe on the front.

Just sayin’.

We all have head colds here.  Or, at least, we all have massive quantities of snot.  It’s disgusting.

C and I watched Hedwig and the Angry Inch last weekend and every time there was a song, Chico let out a high-pitched singsong squeal, pinched his eyes shut and raised his fists.  Lucy’s been calling him Baby Punk Rock (or Chico Ramone) but I think he’s actually The GlamBaby.  This is the first he’s shown a preference for music besides a brief period of Thelonious Monk easing him into slumber.

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There are two little blue-turning-brown eyes staring at me from a bouncy chair. Two little fists pump and two legs kick in an attempt to get my attention. But I shall be strong! I won’t give in to the pressure to look over because if I do…

GONE! No more drinking coffee, computer time-wasting, sitting alone.

Actually, it’s not nearly as dire as all that, although we are just coming out of a super-clingy time. And Chico does try desperately to get me to glue to him. And I do need my time in the morning, especially since we’re still nursing constantly and need to stand up to burp and Lucy is back in the bedroom with us on an air mattress next to my side of the bed that barely fits and I have to edge my way out of the bedroom like a giant, sleepy, cranky crab.


It’s just a phase, though, because much like his sister*, all of this random neediness is the big, doughy bread on either side of a laugh-sandwich. Which for those of you who speak ‘English’ means he laughed for the first time on Thursday night. huh-huh-heh. It was very cute, especially since he had the common decency to laugh for me when nobody else was around. See, I’ve been hanging over him like a fool making all manner of strange noise and funny face in an effort to coax out that giggle. And I’ve been certain that he would bust out laughing for Daddy, because he hasn’t been nearly as pressure-rific. But my boy knows better, and I am one happy Mama!


Lucy and I spent some time yesterday organizing our existing beads by color. It was so freaking much fun. Which I know is terribly dorky of me to be so into something so nudgy, but I find sorting to be rather soothing. So does Lucy. Can’t wait for new beads! Cannot.Wait.


I need to figure out what we’re going to plant this summer and how. I’m toying with the idea of getting a couple of self-watering containers and trying to do a bunch of greens. We’re definitely going to do some herbs again, and the tomatoes, and maybe peppers as well. What else grows well in containers and isn’t ridiculously difficult for a gardening neophyte?


It feels like forever since I’ve written something without all of these damn asterisks. My brain is working mostly in clumps these days, but it feels like it’s transitioning back to proper paragraphs. I spent much of yesterday standing in the living room looking vaguely panicked, wondering which of the zillion things I had thought about wanting to do while glued to baby I should actually start. My husband kindly suggested writing and I almost popped him one because, hello? But he’s right, even though I did anything but write yesterday.

*ETA–what I meant here is ‘much like when his sister was a baby, these periods of neediness are indicative of a new behavior or stage of development.  Jesus, remember back when I made sense when I wrote?

Me neither.

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Please to be leaving me alone

After 12 hours of Chico gas and teething (sleep 2 hours, nurse, freak out for an hour, burp, fall back asleep.  rinse.  repeat.) and an out-of-the-blue bed soak at 2 am by my eldest, coupled with the beginnings of a cold, I have reached my breaking point.  Even my punctuation has gone haywire.

I am touched out.  I am talked out.  I am wanting to lock myself in the bathroom with a crossword book and my iPod and not come out until I’m good and ready.  I have never once wished that I didn’t have my children, but oh do I wish I could send them away for a few hours this morning.  No, they can stay.  I’ll go.

Ironically, some sort of primeval offspring preservation force caused thoughts of how much I was looking forward to spending time with the kids today kept popping into my head as I was rocking furiously, hissing shhhhhhhh, in the ear of my son at 4 am.  My mama always says, ‘You’re lucky you’re so damn cute or you’d be dead by now.’  ‘Course, she says this about her dog, but I’m sure she’s thought it about my brother and me…


Meanwhile, back in reality.  The beads are coming!  I cannot freaking wait.  The St. Patrick’s Day goody bags for Lucy’s school are coming!  I’m even excited about that.  Did I write about that?  I’m too lazy to look back so I may repeat…we’re doing St. Patrick’s at Lucy’s school, which means feeding the class and trying to best the previous parents in quality of goody bag.  I’m kidding about that last part.  Sort of.  I’m pretty competitive.


The maiden voyage to the midwife with Chico was a success!  It’s an enormous PITA to take him in a carseat, though, so we’ll be doing the next one on the subway.  Next year.  Because I’m all clear until then!

It’s always so nice to see my midwife, especially the first appointment after giving birth.  Sort of like seeing a friend you haven’t seen in a while.  Despite my birth experience with Chico not being entirely what I had hoped for*, it still makes things seem more real to talk them over with someone else who was focusing on the birth as much as (or more than) the baby.

Afterwards I took Chico out to lunch (spinach salad for me, eaten while nursing/burping/wrangling.)  Changed the diaper on the seat of the booth despite panic over potential for pee.  Danced about while fellow diners gawked to prevent total meltdown.   Good times.

*I haven’t written his birth story, of course, but I had a very weird labor–headaches instead of contractions (I went to the ER with a headache and they sent my up to L & D–I dilated 2 cm without feeling anything and we only knew because the OB on duty did an exam as an afterthought), labor stalled, pitocin and the agony thereof.  The upside was that I was much more in tune with my pushing, and felt the birth rather than the pain much more than I did with Lucy.  Not to say it didn’t hurt like a mother, but I could feel the baby coming out instead of just feeling the pain.  All told, I got the pitocin at 7, labored for an hour, and then started to push.  He was out within 2 hours of the pitocin.  I just didn’t want so many interventions.   I also didn’t have any of the stuff I had packed for labor, which was a letdown.  I did have my iPod though, and did dance around to Siouxsie like a big dork.

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Tee hee hee.

I’m being all high-impact today and taking a car service into my appointment with my midwife.  It was either that or leave Chico with C and have him back on formula for the afternoon, and I opted for the gas impact.  Plus he screams bloody murder whenever The Milk Faucets leave the premises so it just seems easier.

Is it terrible that I’m completely freaked out about taking him on the subway?  So much so that I can’t even try it out yet?  I was going to pouch him, but then where would I put him during my exam?  I don’t know how people do it.  I didn’t take Lucy alone on the subway between her outgrowing the baby carrier and last summer.  I’m such a fraidy-cat about stuff like that.  Anyway, I’ll come up with some way to offset the gasoline usage.

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Aunt L came over yesterday with her boxes of beady goodness and introduced Lucy to the world of jewelry design.  And it was so much fun that this morning, The Best Mommy in the World ordered beading supplies so that we can continue here.  Because Lucy is really good at design.   I don’t just mean ‘good for a 5 year old.’  She’s good, period.  I know she’s my kid and all, but since she didn’t get her artsy-fartsiness* from me I can brag 😛

I’ll take a picture of the necklace she created for her Gramma’s birthday next week.  L and I each strung a side and L made the fancy bits and put it together, but the visual part was all Lucy.

And you know what?  I love stringing beads.  I love handling beads.  I love buying beads.  Uh oh.  At least now we don’t ever have to buy presents again 😉

*I did go through a brief beading fascination in high school but I really wasn’t very good.  I kept one pair of earrings for posterity but even those sit in the jewelry box unworn.  I almost dismantled them for Lucy to use but had an attack of nostalgia and had to hide them away again.  Oops, I kept this pair too.  The other pair is better.

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and because we just got pics from my MIL…

I give you…Chico!

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I mean, I know it’s frigid outside, but it’s so gloriously sunny that it’s put me right in a cheery mood.  No small feat considering that I was awakened by a howling Chico and a Lucy trying to sing over the howls.  It was loud enough (and extended enough) that C got out of bed to see if I needed help.

Gas.  Bastard gas.  In a child who is placid and sedate 90 % of the time but who, when upset, will give you what-for like a pro.   After walking, rocking, dancing and sitting, the teensiest burp came out.  And we’ve been fine ever since.

Sometimes I look down at him and am amazed at how this little mewling creature will grow into a boy and then a man.  And then I look at my Lucy and marvel at how little she used to be, how helpless and dependent on me.  These are the times that the emotions of motherhood overwhelm me, make me wonder how I will handle both of them growing up, growing old, needing me less and less.

Meanwhile, back in grown-up land, I don’t wanna be an eco-mom.  I applaud the efforts, but seriously, this smacks of another way to lord oneself over one’s fellow moms.  And that is the last thing anyone needs.

I sometimes stop myself here when I start to write about stuff I’m doing to reduce impact.  It often feels like I’m all ‘look what I’m doing, admire me’ when I mostly want to chronicle the changes we’re making as a household (I do like admiration and I am proud of what we’ve done so it is a bit of bragging.)  When it comes down to it, though, I do things like cloth diapering and turning the heat off because it makes me feel like I’m making a difference.  Because I believe it makes a difference.  And because a lot of the things we do to reduce impact are really freaking easy and I want other people to know how easy they are.

And I try to write about the downfalls.  Like my shopping.  I like to buy things and, quite honestly, I buy far more stuff than I like to admit so it’s important to be open about that.

Or trash.  We were eating a lot of take-out for a few months and, hell, we got rid of a mattress and box spring and a couch this past year.  I didn’t keep up with the worm bin for a few months so more food scraps went into the trash than I would like.

It would be so nice of we could all just live the way we think is right without worrying about what category we fall into.

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Today Chico and I dressed in our Valentine’s Day finest and headed to hell  Gymboree for a parents’ meetup deal.

There was singing and mat activities.  Chico nursed.

There was parachute swinging and more singing.  Chico nursed.

There was baby massage.  Chico nursed.

There were snacks and drinks so that we could all mingle.  Chico fell asleep.


I am the most socially awkward person in Queens, and this awkwardness is compounded by having a baby hanging off of my tit.  For an hour.  Not to mention how hard it is, over the din of inane Gymboree songs, that it’s ‘Francis With An I’ and ‘she’ is a ‘he’.  Did I mention inane Gymboree songs?  I know it’s supposed to be for the kids and all, but there’s something about the earnestness with which the 20-something drama students belt out Gymbo’s greatest hits as though they are auditioning for Broadway that makes me really, really uncomfortable.

I’ll probably give it another go next week, though.  Because at least I didn’t flash anyone like I did the food delivery guy last week.


Lucy came home with a handful of Valentines today (there was no formal card swap.)  One of them, from a little boy in her class was signed, ‘I love you.’

I thought I had a few more years before this sort of thing started happening 😛


C is headed out to play the gee-tar like some damn rock star or something 😉

For my part, I have chocolate donuts and there’s a new episode of Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares on.  Seeing as how Valentine’s Day is the lamest holiday ever, these plans suit me just fine.

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