Thursday, July 29, 2010

If you give a girl a cracker, if you give a girl a mouse

Homemade grahams from our new friend, Mandy! SHE LOVES THEM.


Lil mouseman from our old (but young) friend, Lauren. SHE LOVES HIM.




Would it be obnoxious to tell you what a dee-lite HJ is these days? Yes?

*twiddles thumbs*

Fine!

I'm just smitten over that marshmallow bucket.

Oops!

Bye.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Mini Clay


Looking lots like her papa. Beatles onesie from superCanadian, Jordan.

The Chesney and me, out on our swing. It's one of my favorite parts of the house -- a totally enclosed porch, only accessible through our living room door, with perfect neighbor-spying sensibilities. H and I like to read books out there or just quietly rock and enjoy the shade. When Clay gets home from work, we light a Citronella candle and crunch ice together while we talk about our days. Or quietly surf the Internets side-by-side as the sun sets. Ah, romance.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

I waited a whole 6 months

In happier times. Minutes before Doogie made her discovery.

I've tried my damndest not to be that crazytown first time mama who calls/crashes the doctor's office for every little thing. When she was a newborn, I chatted with the ped over the phone about her stuffy nose. And other than that? I've been able to stick to her regular well child visits.

Uh. Until yesterday.

As I nursed her on the front porch (pretty sure the shrubs hide me...pretty sure) I saw a little spot upon her marshmallow skin. On her scalp a couple inches above her temples. If she had hair, I wouldn't have noticed it. But she doesn't, so I did. It was red and underneath the surface and didn't disappear when I pressed on it. After checking with Dr. Google, I decided her brain was probably bleeding.

What? You don't see the LEAKING BRAIN FLUID?!

But it was so teeny teeny tiny small that I felt semi-psycho about bringing her in. And so I called instead and asked for a call back. Which I didn't get. So then I had to call after-hours care. And they told me it was probably fine, but worth a visit today. Which kind of made me want to puke, because they didn't just say "It's DEFINITELY nothing! Go drink a cream soda!"

This morning, the dot/spot/brain bleed was lighter and looked even more insignificant. But I still felt a nagging worry about it. So I took her into doctorman. Who was so nice about it, really. Assured me its size and color and one-off status made it harmless. And then asked me if I was maybe just worried that she'd have a noticeable red mark on her head. Uh no. Do I really look that vain? (Don't answer that.)

Now that we're home and she's obviously fine and the dot looks even lighter and I can finally breathe, I realize I was suffering under some kind of pre-period (yes, it's actually back -- last time was just a side effect from shitty birth control -- so now Clay and I will be sleeping in different beds until I'm ready to try again, say 2012?) insanity. Like, truly, the hormones made me 100% believe that a small dot on my child's head was the end of my peaceful little life. I was pacing my whole house, hyperventilating, crying, pulling on my hair, eating her little cheeks like they were about to disappear forever. I wish it were on tape, really. I could say it was a documentary on NUTJOBS and win something. Like a free cream soda.

(Oh yeah - I changed my blahhg layout. Chu likey?)

Monday, July 26, 2010

My two dads (and a dog)


Bugaboosugar's Uncle Lee has been hanging with us since Friday, getting me ice cream when I bat my lashes and killing the bat in our basement. (I know. I'm thinking of moving.)

It was a total trip to see her figure out the Lee and dadzone combo. They...sure...do...look...the...same?! But...they...aren't...the...same?! MOM!MM!O!!M!??!?!?!

She whipped her head back and forth between the two of them for five straight minutes, trying to get her bearings. Good thing I don't have me a sissy -- she'd probably implode.

Lee brought his dog Cocoa along and I admit to being a wee bit nerv before they came. HJ hasn't been around dogs before and I had no idea how I'd she'd react. But then...I met Cocoa and completely relaxed. What a little bug. Harps has something of a hair fetish and will grab any and all hair in her path. Coc's totally went with the flow, occasionally lapping up some baby sweetness, but otherwise napping it all off.


She be licking my hand, momz? MOMZ?!
But it's cool. Cuz I got her ear. And I'm wearing a dope bow.

After much thought...I'm into this lion all up in my cribz.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Belly laughs

Our little Harpspants is a real tough crowd when it comes to laughing. Smiles? Non-stop. But laughs? Woah. Hard to get. Like her dad in that sense, I s'pose. (Unless you're Richard Pryor, he probably won't give you a giggle. It's not your fault.)

We've probably gotten a good belly laugh out of HJ...three, maybe four times? And what works the first time will certainly not work the second time. Because by then, of course, it's super old news and completely unfunny. So I work my ass off all day long trying to get it out of her. And because it's super random, I never know when my work will finally pay off.

Although there is a slight theme to her comedy taste. I'd probably call it...vaudevillian?

Friday, July 23, 2010

Flashback Friday




Alright, so it isn't too far back of a flashback, but...

LOOK AT MY BABY AT ONE DAY OLD.

I was quite prepared for an alien/bug/blob newborn, but this little plumcake came out instead!

I'm sorry (no, I'm not) but -- !!!!!!!!!!!!

In other news, Clay's bro -- Harper's Uncle Lee -- is making the scene today (we think? those young ones -- he's older than me -- so unpredictable) to meet his nieceypants for the first time. I'm guessing he'll find her awesome-to-very-awesome, no?

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Bring yo' own baby yoga

So I haven't updated lately on how I'm doing with the make-new-friends-before-you-start-talking-to-a-volleyball project. My current grade would probably be a...C. Well, C-. Our trip home was a big undertaking and then we started the move and, well, it was easy to forget about my friendless status. (Don't you always want to pronounce that "stay-tus" like the Brits? Just me?)

But now that we're slowly getting settled at the new pad, it's slowly sinking in that I need to get a l-i-f-e. Luckily, I have made a couple pals in town that I'll hang with/walk with/yard sale with. But it's not regular and I need some regularity. That came out wrong.

It's hard to get motivated, though. Especially because I found out a couple weeks ago that one of my best friends (and birthday mates woot!) is taking the SF-to-Denver train, too, (we send missionaries -- BEWARE) and soon I'll be able to hang with one of my favorite people on a very regular basis. However. I still need other friends. I know. I know.

I'm mailing in an application today for Mom Group Numero Dos, which I have higher hopes for. I'm researching music classes and swim classes and French lessons (okay, no) for bubs. I'm trying to be chattier with other mamas when we're out and about at King Soopers/farmers market/Target. And yesterday, I tried my first BYOB yoga class.

Wasn't quite sure how I was going to get any actual yoga done with my sidekick there and all told, I really didn't. Sure, I fit in some deep breathing and a few downward dogs, but much of the time was spent making sure Biscuit didn't escape her little square of real estate. And/or talk so loud they brought in the authorities. The teacher made it clear that "anything goes" (mostly referring to breastfeeding, I think), but holy loud chatting from H bomb! She literally did not stop talking/squeaking/singing the entire time. Yoga really moves this one, yo! Luckily, the other moms were great and thought she was hilarious (she is, she is!) instead of annoying.

Okay okay, but I jumped too far ahead. The best part was the beginning of class, when the teacher asked us to go around the room and talk about how we're finding time for "me time" (the gist of all the answers was...we're not). A little touchy feely, but hey! I went to theater school. I can nail this.

It gets to me and I explain I'm finally getting a little alone time because Biscuit is sleeping better these days. And she asks me what I think has helped her make the shift. And I launch into my no-more-binky/eating-solids/more-physically-active-now spiel. And she's nodding and smiling and adding commentary. Largely in the "that's just what Dr. Sears says" flavor. (Which, I don't know. I used to like the man. But now I don't. I actually want to punch him. But that's another post. If I ever get the energy.) Anyone who quotes that dude to me as their One True Source is...probably not going to be my best friend.

So then! I go

"Oh! And I let her cry more now, too."

And then THE DARKEST CLOUD OF ALL TIME descended upon her face.

Like I had just said

"And I like to punch her in the face, too!"

She doesn't say anything else. Just pauses. Swallows her barely-contained-disdain and turns to the next mom.

"And you?"

It was nothing short of amazing.

But! I liked the other mamas -- they weren't fruitcakes who sang every cheesy Namaste song out of key -- and think I'll go back, just as a fun routine, just as a place to be with other people living the baby life, just as something to do every Wednesday. And hey! Maybe I'll even ask one of 'em on a date next time. Maybe.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Biscuit and a pseudo muumuu

A rainy day and the post office and a stale bran muffin.





Summing it up

Bear with me for two seconds, pals.

I spend a lot of time thinking how lucky I am to have Harps as my daughter. Clay and I always remark how sweet her soul is (and then quickly wonder where the hellz that comes from). She's sweet and smart and silly and has these blue eyes that just punch your gut.

But as much as I want to claim her as my, my, mine? I don't really like putting it that way. I always want her to think of herself as belonging to...herself. With mama and dadpants in her corner, always loving her the mostmostmost. But not owing us anything or feeling any pressure to be anything/anyone.

This (part of a) poem by (my fellow Lebanese dude!) Khalil Gibran explains beautifully how I feel about the whole thing. I heard this way back before I had my own bub and it gave me chills. I love it even more now.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.


You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

(Clay's rolling his eyes right now, FYI.)
And...back to regularly scheduled cute fo-tos soon. 

Monday, July 19, 2010

I'm afraid she's inherited her dad's taste

Because she really ripped my New Yorker to shreds.




And can we discuss her Yoda/Dopey-the-Dwarf (both serious Halloween costume contenders) ears? They seem to be sticking around and honestly, they delight me (and everyone who sees her) daily. Crunch munch crunch!

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Life without Ikea

Because we now live in a bigger place, we need a few extra furniture items. A couple more dressers, a TV stand, some cutie things for the nursery -- and so on.

But life in Colorado means life without Ikea (and Trader Joe's DON'T GET ME STARTED) and so instead of our one-stop-shop for all things home, we're having to think outside the big box.

Which is good, really, since we're both into design things and prefer real stuff to fake stuff. It's just that Ikea is so easy. And the meatballs so flipping amazing.

We attempted flea marketing yesterday, but it was a scary-person-drunk-person-stolen-merch-blazing-hot-sun-weird-lotions-for-sale-instead-of-antiques kind of place.

My dreams were dashed (always wanted to write that) until this morning when walking back from breakfast (at the best little bakery/eatery/awesomery) we happened across a garage sale. And soon we had a rocking chair, side table, and two dressers in our backyard, in various states of disarray and repair and refinishing.







The neighbors love us!

Just wait till my cloth dipe line is up! Weirdo hippies dot com!

Friday, July 16, 2010

Baby jorts

I wanted to post a video of Harps belly laughing, because man -- that's a good way to start the weekend.

But I'm still on a weak sauce Internets connection and after 4 failed uploading attempts, I'm over it.

So instead? I present to you -- baby jorts:







My mom bought those puppies for her and I totally forgot about them until last week. They were HUGE when when she got them in April, and now? They are almost cutting off her thigh circulation. Damn those delicious turkey legs!

Her auntie Noel bought her that scrumptious striped halter.

Her mama and dadpants bought her the bald head.

This picture makes me chuckle because it's 5 seconds after waking up from a nap. Rosy cheeks, bed "hair", fuzzy eyes, and her little Chesney grin.

Will you please excuse me while I make a cup of tea and dip her inside to sweeten it?

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Waiting on her waitress

This is what my happy baby looks like:




She saw me mashing her avo and started freaking the f out.

On the hunt for a highchair, since me sitting on the floor is too much for my old lady knees to take anymore. Any recs?

In other news, I've become the bounty hunter of wasps. They seem to be a special deelite of Colorado summers and I'm always worrying they're about to eat H's face.

Every other cleaner/product in my house is non-toxic, but put a can of Raid in my hand and I will go warrior on those bastards.

Can't take my eyes off of youuuuu



So. This is what happens now when I run into the kitchen to make my coffee.

Started on the playmat. Rolled four times to reach the hardwoods and (jackpot!) the paper towels. This girl loves paper somethin fierce. Mmm. Delicious!

Mama needs to get this girl a corral. Stat.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Total game changer


Harps can rock a restaurant highchair now. Dude.




Sunday, July 11, 2010

You know the drill

No real Internets till we're all set up, but! Things are going great thus far. Tonight (Sunday) will be our first in the new pad and I'm deelited. Last night I wasn't ready to leave (and may have thrown a mini tantrum) but all our day-to-day living stuff was back at the apartment.

So! Here we are now. Harps has been a total champ all weekend (asleep in her CRIB, not a flippin pack 'n play, as I type), the weather has been glorious, cc and I are eating our nighttime cereal after swinging on our front porch swing and listening to a little rain, and all is feeling right with our little world.

Exhausted as f, so bedtime for mama. Pictures to come when things look purty. Muah.

Friday, July 09, 2010

Why would I want to push my babies AWAY?



Super amazing obviously-made-just-for-Harps onesie from our awesome pal Nikki.

We're moving tomorrow (fhoeureapr er!!!) so I've been making sure to get my fill of the fancy coffee down the street from our current digs. I like to go in the late morning, when the air is still a little crisp, and put the Biscuit in some sort of carrier. She loves to see the cashier and the other customers and the passing cars. (Serious car obsessive, this one.)

Now. I absolutely own a stroller and absolutely use it quite a bit, but because it's really lightweight and streamlined, it doesn't have a cup holder. And so when I'm buying coffee, I need my hands.

Today, I went in, ordered my iced latte and then stood by the counter. The barista-types were oohing and aahing over Harps and I made her give a little fake wave. Then they turned to each other (two feet from me) and started chatting. Loudly.

Girlpants One: "You ever see that movie Away We Go?"
Girlpants Two: "No -- is it good?"
Girlpants One: "So funny. About parents trying to find the right way to raise their baby. And there's this great part where they hang out with this one chick played by Maggie Gyllenhaal. And she's nuts and will only wear her baby in a carrier! She's like "WHY WOULD I WANT TO PUSH MY BABIES AWAY?"
Girlpants Two: "Hilarious! Can you imagine? Not using a stroller? Ew!"
Girlpants One: "I know! I don't get the carrier thing AT ALL!"

?????????????????

Did I unknowingly put on my invisibility cloak?

In other news...happy Friday!

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

T minus 3


Built in the 1920's from a Sears kit.
I want to hug it and then brush its hair.

Not that I've done...anything to prepare for it (well, a few loads of laundry and lots of late night mental obsessing), but in three days we be moving! I remember it seeming years away when we signed the lease and now -- woot!

I can't even tell you how ready I am to get into OUR OWN SPACE. I still have an insane need to nest and, uh, there's no nesting in temporary housing. I get by with my cloth diaper fixation and cleaning the sink five times a day, but I'm itching to mop some floors and decorate a nursery and hang up a clothesline and cook a pie. Peach perhaps?

Sometimes I find myself staring into space, dreaming about how I'll arrange my basement laundry room. Not exactly what 18-year-old-me would have imagined for 28-year-old-me (that would have been Broadway, thaaaanks), but...it makes me insanely satisfied and at peace, this life I have. Go figurez.

The furniture and boxes (our stuff! I haven't seen it in months!) are getting dropped off Saturday and then...the chaos begins. Huzzah and hey!

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

This is cracking me up



I wanted to take a quick pic before our pool swim to show off our matching brown suits. But somehow we ended up looking like a horror flick poster.

Me = evil villain. Harps = my innocent victim.

And your little dog, too!

Monday, July 05, 2010

Harps eats avocado

A little biased, but pretty sure this is the cutest thing. Ever.

Just started little HJ on solids this weekend. (Well, truth be told, she had some whipped cream and apple sauce in Maine.) She'd been staring at us eat and we thought it might be time.

Uh yeah. It was time.

Hang in till at least :40 when ladybug gets a little...grabby.

Feed! Me! Seymour!

5 months! And: In defense of crying


And then she fell over.


Guys. A five-month-old is, like, a real baby. That I can put on my hip and go about my business (cleaning cloth dipes, making quinoa, dancing) with. That's an important test in my book. The hip test.

While the newborn days were magical and gooey, I'm really in love with this phase. She really feels like a little sidekick now. Beams at me when I come back into view, flirts during nursing, is thisclose to sitting without help, grabs my hand/the spoon and pulls it closer for more rice cereal, rolls around like a bale of hay, chats like a Kathy, loves all music (specifically, uh, John Mayer?), digs shopping (facing out in the Bjorn), and has finally started napping. Like, actual naps. Nighttime sleep is...not quite resolved yet. But some nights are better than others and I think moving into the new pad (less than a week!) will help things out.

One big change around here is I'm letting little muffinpants cry more. For the first 4.5 months of her life I barely-let-her-squeak-before-attending-to-her-every-need-Her-Highness-I-am-her-beeyatch. Which was the right style for me. Those first few months are all about building trust and I worked at teaching her I've alwaysalways got her back.

But lately things were getting semi...out of control. She wouldn't sleep without fussing first, so I picked her up and rocked her down and soon I was, uh, letting her sleep in my arms all the time. If she cried in the car, I would pull over right away. I was starting to turn down social invites because I had to drive and driving meant crying and...yeah. Slippery slope.

And then we went back East and attended Grammy bootcamp. Since I'm my mom's baby, she doesn't quite like seeing me held hostage 24/7. So we mixed up a few things in the daily routine and saw some real changes. Because turns out...sometimes babies need to/like to cry some? Not for hours, not alone in a dark corner of a closet, not if her other needs aren't attended to, but yeah. She lets out her ya-yas, releases some tension, gets to be alone with her feelings. When she's tired and just tired (not hungry/cold/wet etc) it almost sounds like angry talking. Crying: It's a thing!

I've yet to get hardcore with it (read: Ferberize) (though I don't even think Ferberizing is really all that hardcore anymore), but I've really changed my mind on the whole thing. Now it actually seems a little ridiculous that everyone's trying so hard to avoid a little crying. Because, ahem, babies cry.

And hey! For those mamas that are anti-crying-it-out? I feel you, I hear you, I get you. Because trust me -- I'm still a major softie. I'm just a little less afraid of some noise.

Friday, July 02, 2010

Bon voyage redux





A little chilly in New England town this morning.

Harps and I are hitting the road (skies) in a few hours. Pretty much a perfect trip.

Though really ready to see Clay. Whew.

Reporting from Denver soon!