Autumn at Oak Hollow

Where I am now

2008-07-08T14:14:00.001-04:00

http://www.autumnatoakhollow.com

Movin' on up

2006-06-25T23:14:00.000-04:00

I finally made the leap into my own domain name. That's right, I'm a dot com now. I've had a great time with Blogger, but I'm looking for something a little more...complex, I guess.

I hope you'll follow me over there.

That's heathernoah.com

DOT COM!

Dirty little secrets

2006-06-23T13:06:00.000-04:00

As I plopped Autumn in her swing to watch “The Wiggles” this morning, I was reminded of a question I asked Nathan a few weeks ago while we prepared our lunches for the day and Autumn squealed in response to “The Wiggles” dancing and singing on TV.

“Do you think these guys get sick of their personas and go on weekend benders with booze and women?” I asked.

“Probably,” Nathan said.

Just think about it. These are grown men, all in their mid-to-late thirties, singing and dancing to the most annoying kid songs ever composed. Granted, there is an educational component to these songs some parents might find valuable the first ten times they hear them. After that, however, the charm of these fellows wear off and you groan every time you hear the opening riffs to “Rockabye Bear” or “Rosy Tea.”

The worst part about the Wiggles gig has to be the concert tours. Night after night with Captain Feathersword and Henry the Octopus hogging the spotlight while Greg tries to keep it all together with his guitar and lovely voice, talents obviously meant for bigger and better venues.

How often have these guys longed to shake a hand that’s not sticky and covered with boogers? How often have the moms of these tots looked mighty appealing and wouldn’t the Wiggle guys just love to invite them backstage as long as they could give their kids the boot for awhile?

Oh, I’m sure there are stories to tell.

Just watch the show sometime and tell me Anthony doesn’t look a little saucy with those sideburns of his.

Hot off the press!

2006-06-22T23:05:00.000-04:00

More bars in more places

2006-06-21T13:00:00.000-04:00

Ah, the power of advertising...

As soon as these folks lined up for the picture I said, "Hey, you look like a Cingular commercial." I like those commercials. They're like a grown up version of Where's Waldo? No matter how many times you've seen one, you're convinced you missed something the last time you saw it. For Nathan and me, it's like a game show. "Oh the cabs! The dogs! The sushi! The window!" If you don't know what I'm talking about, Cingular has their little "raising the bar" logo hidden in everyday things in all their commercials. Tractors clearing a field, row houses in San Francisco, a family on the beach, glasses on a bar...

Anyway, that's Nathan, his brothers and their parents. From left to right is Roman, Dirk, Nathan, Darwin and Pam. I really have to hand it to my mother-in-law for keeping it together all those years because I've heard some horror stories that would make any parent cringe. Apple pie stains on the ceiling and using gasoline and a lighter to take paint off a bicycle are just two of the more prominent tales of the Noah boys' childhood. Thank God I have a girl.

Of course Dirk had to point out that his daughter was part of the gang of junior thugs out in the yard molesting a garden snake, so I may not be as safe as I think.

Lovely Ladybug

2006-06-15T13:15:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago we had Autumn's 6-month pictures taken. This photo shoot went much better than her 3-month shoot. We didn't have to wake her and managed to get some good smiles out of her. We went to Target. Much, much cheaper than Sadie's and they let you download the pics if you sign up for their "Smile Station."

Here's to nine great years...

2006-06-14T22:17:00.000-04:00

Happy anniversary, hon!

He's nice, but he's no Spongebob

2006-06-12T15:07:00.000-04:00

My dad takes off on a road trip out west every year and is usually gone for over two weeks. He just returned from his latest trip yesterday and stopped by our house on his way back home. He missed Autumn and wanted to see her before he crashed for the evening.

He scooped Autumn up in his arms and sat down with her on the couch. Autumn has this annoying habit of only wanting to look at you if she’s in someone else’s arms and skillfully avoids eye contact by pretending to be enthralled with the lint on your shirt. I don’t know if it’s a baby thing or if she’s already developed issues with intimacy, but my dad had a heck of a time coaxing a smile out of her.

“Don’t you remember me?” he asked.

Autumn looked up at him with a blank, stoned look that may have had more to do with the 6 oz of formula she had just guzzled down than a failure to recognize her grandpa.

When she looked at me, I clapped and said, “Yay!” She loves when I do this and smiled at me, but the moment she looked up at my dad she dialed the smile back down to a benign look of disinterest. Dad turned her around so that she was facing him, but she craned her neck back in a motion most often seen performed by circus folk. She wanted to see what was playing on the TV rather than pay attention to her grandpa.

“Well, I guess she comes by that naturally,” he said. He sounded a bit sad and I did feel bad for him, but at the same time I have had entire conversations with my father during which half the time I had to ask, “Dad, are you listening to me?” because the TV was on at the same time.

As he was leaving, my dad stopped halfway down the stairs that lead to our garage and tried one more time to get Autumn to smile by playing peek-a-boo. That did the trick and she FINALLY gave him what he wanted by bursting into a wee smile that lasted all of two seconds.

It's tough to compete with the TV.

Earlier this afternoon in the ladies' bathroom...

2006-06-09T23:01:00.000-04:00

The tampon dispenser in the ladies' bathroom at work has been broken for I don't know how long and they're finally replacing it. I noticed today that some of the wall surrounding the dispenser had been cut away in preparation for the dispenser's removal. Later on this sign was put up to alert us as to what was going on:

In case you can't read that, let's get a closer look:

Since our entire staff is composed of women, we all got a big kick out of it. Word spread throughout the office rather quickly and we took turns visiting the bathroom and giggling like a bunch of junior high schoolgirls.

I'm betting someone on the facilities staff will be referring to a thesaurus before the next big project.

No Talent Ass Clowns

2006-06-07T22:12:00.000-04:00

Nathan and I love the movie Office Space, one reason being that it was directed by Mike Judge, the creator of “Beavis and Butthead.” We were big “B&B” fans back in the day, but we were also poor and stupid and had to cancel our cable because we had to eat and pay rent and stuff. We were cut off from The Great Cornholio as a consequence and were horrified when Mike Judge finally decided to end the series to concentrate on “King of the Hill.”

Another reason we like Office Space is because we both work in an office and the thought of taking a hated piece of hardware into a field and smashing it to smithereens with a baseball bat gets us all tingly. I’d choose the telephone and I’m pretty sure Nathan would do the same. We both spend a lot of time on the phone every day, quite often talking to the most unpleasant people ever put on this planet.

At one point in Office Space, the main character Peter discusses with his office friends how unhappy he is with his job but that he doesn’t know what else he would do. In high school he never had an answer when his guidance counselor asked him what he would do if he had a million dollars, the idea being that whatever he enjoyed doing was his path to a fulfilling career.

Now that we have Autumn, I started thinking that it would be nice if she could see one or both of her parents doing something they enjoy. Wouldn’t it be lovely to leave for work and actually look forward to the job? Instead of being berated by kindergarten teachers with attitude problems or business partners who copy the whole corporation on private emails and are incensed that you can’t help them retract the message, wouldn’t it be nice to come home happy and fulfilled?

So last night as we were getting ready for bed I asked Nathan what he would do if he had a million dollars or more and didn’t have to work. True to form, his first answer was a smart one. “Sleep,” he said.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I want a serious answer.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Read a lot, I guess.”

Yeah, I suppose I really don’t know the answer to that question either.

Can you really be in your mid thirties and still not know what you want to do when you grow up? I mean I have a degree in English, but so far that has only served as a useful tool to irritate my husband. I constantly correct his grammar and it drives him nuts, though he’s proven to be very patient and hasn’t killed me in my sleep yet.

At different times in my life I’ve wanted to be a veterinarian, a teacher, an actress, a film maker, a computer programmer, a photographer, a web designer and a writer. Right now I’m looking at trying to pull together a few of the things I like to do the best and see if I can’t make a business out of it. I doubt many people would hire me to sit on their couch, eat their food and mess up their house, so I guess I’m feeling a bit lost. At least I can take comfort in the knowledge that I’m not alone.

So how will this aimlessness affect Autumn? Will she grow up thinking she needs to do just enough to get by or will she have the courage to take the risks her parents have avoided? Having a child has created a whole new set of dreams. Instead of wondering what I’m going to do with my life, I’m now wondering what she’ll end up doing with hers and also wondering if how I’m living my life now will affect her life when she’s an adult. I have now doubt it will.

Cripes, that’s a lot of pressure.

It's my house now. Mine, I tell you!

2006-06-03T17:17:00.000-04:00

I am taking over. Resistance is futile!

Cement shoes for the Sony

2006-06-01T09:32:00.000-04:00

Last week all our favorite shows ended for the season. I was kind of relieved because I know we spend way to much time watching television. Jack Bauer was kidnapped by the Chinese, sure to be tortured every day until we meet him again in January. Sydney and Vaughn happily settled in a beachfront paradise with baby Jack and future super spy Isabelle. All was good in the world and I was sure I’d be able to carve out some kind of life for myself and my family, at least until the fall season starts in September.

Last night, however, was a low point in my TV addiction. I was settling in to nurse Autumn for the last time before putting her to bed and was surfing through the channels for something to watch. For some reason there was a shocking lack of “Law and Order” so I was reduced to watching E! and their stunning creation, a reality show called “The Girls Next Door.”

We’re not particularly fond of reality TV. Nathan hates it with a passion unless the show involves fixing up a house or other people’s children behaving like sugared-up hell spawn. He scoffed when I started watching “The Girls Next Door” but became intrigued when he saw it was all about Hugh Hefner’s “girlfriends” living at the Playboy mansion.

That’s right. Hef’s girls have their own reality show.

Apparently Hef has downsized from seven girlfriends to three, so you know it’s not just corporate America suffering from a depressed economy. The Playboy mogul has had to make some concessions as well, poor guy.

So this show is all about Hef’s three girls; Holly, Bridget and Kendra. Holly is the alpha and the one who seems to be the most attached to Hef. Bridget, the oldest at 31, is the sweet and brainy one. She’s working on her second master’s degree. Kendra’s the wild one and the youngest of the three. She enjoys showing off the goods to just about everyone.

After a half hour of watching these three in various stages of dress and undress, I asked Nathan if he wanted to find something else to watch.

No, there’s really nothing else on.

So we watched another half hour.

“This doesn’t bother you at all?” I asked. “You have a daughter. How would you like it if, twenty years from now, she shacked up with some 100-year old geezer in a red silk bathrobe?”

Apparently it was the wrong time to pose this question to him because the girls were taking a shower together.

Along with the group shower, some of the highlights of last night’s episodes were:

Holly trying not to get ruffled as she sat next to Hef’s ex Barbi Benton as Barbi reminisced about bygone days of sex on the pool table with Hef.

Bridget trying to decide which was more important; making it to school in time to take her final exam or participating in one more photo shoot for the magazine.

Barbi Benton asking Bridget if “those are real or fake” and realizing she was referring to the plastic plants and not Bridget’s boobs.

Holly freaking out about missing Hef’s 9:00 pm curfew.

Barbi asking if Hef has met the girls’ mothers yet.

Bridget standing stark naked next to her sister as she examined Polaroids of her photo shoot.

We lost three whole hours of our lives to that show last night. Three hours we will never get back. Lord, help us.

So why is it that bad TV seems so good? Surely I don’t want Autumn growing up thinking shows like “The Girls Next Door” are quality programming. Ideally I’d like her to have a take it or leave it attitude where TV is concerned. Unfortunately we have a 160 pound behemoth sitting in our living room that’s bound to serve as her baby sitter from time to time. It’s just so easy to plop her down in front of “The Wiggles” while I get ready in the morning.

Maybe the TV could have an accident or something. If you can hire a hit man to whack a human being surely you can hire someone to take out major appliances.

I just couldn’t do it myself. It really is a love/hate relationship.

Parenting PSA #312

2006-05-29T11:20:00.000-04:00

If you choose to indulge in multiple pitchers of sangrias this summer, please remember to wait the appropriate amount of time before nursing your infant.

A drunk baby is no lauging matter.

Please state the nature of your emergency...

2006-05-27T14:27:00.000-04:00

We bought the flag in the above picture at a dollar store earlier this week. As I was walking back into the garage after hanging it, I caught Nathan staring intently at the flag as it waved in the breeze.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm just making sure you're not in distress," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"If you hang a flag a certain way it's a signal you're in distress. I just wanted to make sure you weren't sending out a distress signal.

I sighed. "Nathan, this is the suburbs. If we're in distress, we dial 911."

Garage sale stickers...$1.69

2006-05-26T17:03:00.003-04:00

Having your baby sacked out while you drag your junk out to the garage to sell...priceless.

Fortunate son

2006-05-24T12:53:00.000-04:00

Yesterday both of my parents spent some time with their own mothers. My mom went to the flea market in Shipshewana, Indiana with her mother and her mother’s friend and my father went to the cemetery with his.

I’ve not always gotten along with my paternal grandmother. It’s a long, complicated story that involves us not speaking to each other for five years. We both can be difficult and bull-headed. At one time we were like two rams charging at each other with neither one coming out as the winner.

Things are good between us now, thanks to Autumn. We’re much more relaxed when we’re together now that we can focus our attentions outside of ourselves. Grandma is so busy being in love with her great-granddaughter that she all but forgets about everyone and everything that irritates her, including me. It’s like in those submarine movies when the missiles are headed towards the sub and the captain yells “release the countermeasures!” and the little thingies spit out and shake in the water to deflect the blast away from the sub. Autumn is my countermeasure.

My father, on the other hand, is not as lucky. He hates conflict but often finds himself facing the missiles without a countermeasure in sight. Thankfully Grandma doesn’t seem to get mad at him as often as she does everyone else, but he still hates having to try and put out a fuse that’s been lit no matter who the target is.

So yesterday he and my grandmother visited my grandpa’s grave. Grandma brought along a wreath to place in front of Grandpa’s crypt. From what I heard, it was a very nice wreath complete with little flags to honor Grandpa’s status as a veteran. When they arrived at the crypt, however, Grandma was horrified to see the exact wreath she held in her hands already sitting in place in front of Grandpa’s name.

She instantly fingered my dad’s uncle, Grandpa’s brother, as the culprit. He had no right, she said. Grandpa was her husband and it was her duty to decorate his grave. She picked up the wreath already there and replaced it with her own identical wreath.

Grandma and Dad made the rounds, next visiting Grandma’s sister. Grandma, still fuming and still clinging to the offending wreath, decided to place the decoration on her sister’s marker. Since her sister wasn’t a veteran, she enlisted my dad’s help in plucking the little flags out of the wreath.

All the while my dad was becoming more and more uncomfortable. There they were pulling apart a wreath that, while identical to theirs, wasn’t theirs at all. Someone somewhere had taken the time and spent the money to honor Grandpa. Grandma, on the other hand, figured the party involved, obviously family, deserved to have his wreath taken apart for not respecting her place as Grandpa’s widow.

The last stop was to Grandpa’s parents, my great-grandparents. There my dad and grandma observed markers without decoration or flowers. It was at that point that Grandma started to question the origins of the other wreath. Had Grandpa’s brother placed the wreath at Grandpa’s crypt, he would have surely also placed something at his own parents’ graves.

“Oh. Maybe the VFW brought that other wreath,” Grandma said.

My dad learned a long time ago that it’s sometimes best to just keep your mouth shut.

The "n" at the end is silent

2006-05-22T12:51:00.000-04:00

After a three week absence, we finally made it to church yesterday morning. We decided to leave Autumn in the nursery this time because she's been getting a little noisy. She babbles, screams and farts very loudly to the point that we're not as quick to claim her as ours. Instead, we'll turn our heads from side to side with annoyed looks on our faces as though it was someone else's child making the rude noises.

Much to my relief, she didn't seem at all traumatized by her stay in the nursery. She had Conner (Ryan and Marla's boy) to hang out with not to mention a room full of brightly colored toys at her disposal.

When we picked her up after the service, I noticed the nursery coordinator had put a name tag on Autumn's back but the "n" at the end of her name was crossed out so that it read "Autum." I went over to the nursery log where I had signed Autumn in and, sure enough, I had misspelled her name.

Autum

The crossed-out letter on the name tag was evidence that someone knew the correct spelling of my daughter's name but that someone was not me. I do that a lot. I'll leave letters off words or insert them when they're not needed. I am totally spell check's bitch, but there's no such tool when you're checking your kid into the church nursery.

The lost "n" bugged me so I tore the name tag off Autumn's back and went over to the log to insert the missing letter. Even though we'd already picked her up, I couldn't let the church people think Autumn's mommy was an illiterate slob, or worse, some fruitcake who would actually name her daughter Autum.

Evidence I have not yet corrupted her little mind

2006-05-18T09:30:00.000-04:00

I hate peas.

I know I’ve mentioned that before, but I’ll say it again.

I hate peas.

I think this hatred stems from memories of being held hostage at the dinner table until every pea was eaten. I couldn’t stomach them and would gag obnoxiously with every spoonful I was forced to swallow. Eventually my parents told me I didn’t have to clean my plate all the time, but that was when I started getting fat and they figured forcing me to eat anything was probably not a good idea.

Yesterday the pediatrician gave us the green light to start feeding Autumn fruits and veggies. I’ve been buying little jars of food for a few weeks now in preparation for this. Considering how passionate I’ve been about my pea hatred over the years though, my mother worried that my attitude would filter down to my daughter, thus denying her the full rainbow of baby nutrition. I think Mom had visions of me sticking a spoonful of peas in Autumn’s face saying, “Yucky peas taste like poo. Blech!”

Since I didn’t want to be blamed for raising a second generation pea-hater, I decided we’d try Autumn out on peas first. That way if she actually ended up hating them, I would be vindicated but couldn’t be held responsible if she really did think yucky peas taste like poo. I could claim I tried to get her to eat them and spend the rest of my life content to know a single pea, pureed or otherwise, would never again enter my house.

Wouldn’t you know she just loves them? I wanted to gag as soon as I popped the lid off the jar, but Autumn seemed quite happy to consume many spoonfuls as you can see here in this video:

The first all-nighter

2006-05-16T13:12:00.000-04:00

Today Autumn is six months old. Hello! Are we in some weird time/space flux because I could have sworn I was holding a newborn just yesterday. I can now understand how my mother feels when she says “I can’t believe I have a daughter who’s thirty-four!” Mom? You can say that a little less often, thanks.

In honor of this day, I was going to re-tell Autumn’s birth story in more detail than I did just days after she was born, but I got a ways into writing and found the story to be utterly and completely boring. Part of that could be the way I was writing it, but when you’re robbed of the drama of telling your husband “its time” because your daughter doesn’t care to leave her cushy sac of amniotic fluid, there’s really no way to punch things up into an interesting story.

Instead, I want to tell the story of the first night Autumn and I were left alone together. It was Thursday night, the day after she was born. I told Nathan to go home and get some rest because neither of us had slept much since Monday night, so he picked up Molly from Ryan and Marla’s and went home to sleep.

He left about 9 pm, right around the time “Alias” was starting. It was the one where Sydney was on an op with Rene in Rome, all decked out in a leopard print coat and Marilyn Monroe wig when she runs into her professor from college who’s all “Sydney Bristow? What are you doing here?” Right about that time Autumn started crying.

What is it? Hungry or a wet diaper? Oh. Dirty diaper.

It was still very hard for me to get out of bed and nigh impossible for me to bend over. I waddled over to the plastic bassinet and loosened up the swaddled blanket to change her diaper and then tried to re-wrap her:

The nurses make this swaddling look so easy. Ok, start with that flap and cross over, pull up the bottom and then cross the other flap over. There we go! But wait, her little foot’s sticking out there. That’s not right. Try again. Now she’s crying again. I just changed her diaper so it can’t be that. Maybe she’s hungry. I’ll go with that.

Now how should we do this? Cradle hold or football? Or cross cradle? What about lying down on my side? Nope, that one’s not going to work, but oh it feels so good to lie down. Wait, don’t fall asleep with the baby next to you. Try the football hold again. Football is good for big busted moms who’ve had c-sections. Ouch! Ok she’s latched. I think she’s latched. No wait, she off again. Let’s stuff that Boppy under the arm here for support. Ok, let’s try that again. C’mon. It’s right there. There you go! Ouch!

At some point during all this I managed to knock the telephone over. Remember how I said I couldn’t bend over? Previous experience with the call button told me that a nurse would be awhile in coming, so I just left the phone where it was and hoped Nathan wasn’t trying to call. Yep, he tried to call. When he couldn’t reach me on the hospital phone he tried my cell phone, which was conveniently packed away in my purse and stuffed in a cupboard. So there I was trying to watch “Alias” while keeping Autumn latched on with the theme from Harry Potter ringing throughout the room.

Are you done? It’s so hard to get out of bed with you in my arms. I think I’ll just hold you for awhile. But I’m so tired. Maybe I can just shut my eyes and rest my head against the pillow. Nope. Better not. Don’t want to drop you. Better put you back in the bassinet and call them to take you to the nursery. I’m sorry, but I haven’t slept since Monday night. I know you can’t possibly care about that, but I’ll be a better mama if I send you away for now.

By the time a nurse came to retrieve Autumn, I had changed her diaper two more times and had my first “what the hell am I doing with a child?” moment when I tried to gently move the bassinet by pushing it with my belly and got Autumn’s foot caught in between my body and the plastic. She cried indignantly, probably wishing she had never seen the outside of a uterus.

I’m sorry! Oh, I’m sorry. Mommy didn’t mean to hurt you. Oh please don’t cry.

In spite of my exhaustion, I couldn’t fall asleep after Autumn was taken away. My mind was racing with thoughts of what my life was going to be like when I took my child home.

Do I have everything I need for her? When is my milk going to come in? What’s Molly going to think of the baby? Will I ever get to sleep again?

Eventually I nodded off only to be awakened about an hour and a half later by a nurse wheeling in Autumn in the bassinet. “Somebody’s hungry,” she said.

It was at that point I started to think this whole thing wasn’t going to be that easy. I wanted to call Nathan and beg him to come back. I didn’t want to be alone with this tiny little being who pooped black tar and didn’t understand that I really, really wanted to get more than 90 minutes of sleep. But she needed me. Even if she didn’t know who the hell I was, she needed me.

I guess we’re kind of stuck with each other, huh?

When I had finished nursing, I pressed the call button again for someone to take Autumn back to the nursery. Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. After a half hour I decided to seek out the nursery myself. It was the first time since I checked into the hospital that I walked more than the few feet from my bed to the bathroom.

Wow these lights are bright, aren’t they? Uh oh, someone’s baby is unhappy. Ok, where’s the nursery? You’ve been there, kid, give me some direction. Ah, there it is. Nope, that’s the door to a maintenance closet. This is the door to the nursery. Bye bye, sweetie.

I was able to sleep almost three hours before they brought her back to me for another feeding. By that time it was morning and the beginning of my last day in the hospital.

And you know what? I still have that episode of “Alias” saved on my DVR. I set it to record the night I left for the hospital. I just can’t bring myself to delete it.

Mother's Day, part deaux

2006-05-15T13:28:00.000-04:00

So yesterday was the big freak out. In light of my revelation that I suck as a daughter, I went out to the dollar store for another frame to give to my mother. I drove over there just after 10 am only to find that they don’t open until 11am on Sundays and 11 am just so happened to be Nathan’s desired departure time for the hour drive to his parents’ house.

Since a grocery store is in the same complex, I stopped in there, grabbed a cart and walked around the store hoping for inspiration. Nothing. I then drove to another store I knew would have picture frames but is undergoing a huge renovation. I couldn’t find anything. The dog food is where the pharmacy used to be and the pharmacy is now in the front of the store. The furniture is now where the toys were and I still can’t find the damn picture frames and we have to leave by 11 am!

I finally found the frames and picked out a nice one that was perfect for Nathan’s grandma. I raced home, printed out a picture of Grandma and Autumn and put the framed picture of Autumn that I was going to give Grandma in my mom’s bag, pulled out the Glade candles and replaced it with a nice Bath and Body works candle I had stashed away in a cupboard downstairs.

I was finally able to sit down and take a breath while I fed Autumn. Nathan was signing cards and assembling gift bags and asked, “Where’s my mom’s bag?”

I looked at him. “She doesn’t get a bag. She gets plants,” I said. We bought her a lilac bush and a hydrangea, both of which were sitting out in the garage waiting for the ride to their new home.

“She doesn’t get a picture?” asked Nathan.

Insert scream here.

After much arguing about who gets what and how much time we had before we needed to leave, I convinced Nathan to go to the dollar store and pick up another frame and a gift bag for his mom. He called me a few minutes after he left. “They’re closed for Mother’s Day,” he said.

How can a dollar store not be open on Mother’s Day? Don't they realize there are really cheap procrastinators out there who need to find a Mother's Day gift stat?

Needless to say, we scrapped the picture idea for his mom and vowed to give her one during our next visit.

The rest of the day wasn’t so hectic, thank God. Once at his parents’ house, Autumn was taken out of my hands and I was allowed to nap on the big leather sofa. Autumn fell asleep in the rocking chair with Nathan’s mom and was very put out when we pulled her out of Grandma’s arms when it was time to go.

We met my parents, my brother and my grandmas at Cracker Barrel later in the afternoon. Autumn was passed around the table like a plate of biscuits and didn’t even spit up after having nearly a whole bottle of formula. She sat on my dad’s lap for awhile, banging spoons on the table and dropping them on the floor. Each time she dropped one, someone would pass her another. The busboys probably hated us.

My mother ended up liking her gift. She’s not typically the type who puts a hit out on you after receiving a bad gift, but I wanted at least part of what I gave her to be something meaningful. Hopefully I succeeded with this:

Mother's Day

2006-05-14T08:53:00.000-04:00

I'm freaking out right now because I didn't plan my mother's gift very well. I asked her the other day what she wanted and she said she'd like the book A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel. So we got that for her and now I'm thinking...okay, what else? I bought this Glade Scented Oil Candle set at Costco because I had a coupon, but that just seems bad...bad. Candles are okay, but Glade candles? Why don't I just give her a pack of lottery tickets and a quarter to scratch them with if I'm going to give her something that says "grocery store shopping"?

This is her first Mother's Day as a grandma and I don't have anything truly special for her. We bought these cute picture frames at the dollar store for the great-grandmas and put a pretty picture of Autumn in it. I took the picture yesterday. Autumn's wearing a hat with a Gerber daisy stuck in it. Nathan did this cool Photoshop thing where he took the color out of every part of the photo except the flower. Did I think to get my mother a frame too? Um, no.

Crap. Crap, crap crap.

My Mother's Day is going well. Nathan gave me a Willow Tree figurine of a mama holding her baby and made me French toast for breakfast. That was nice.

Do you think my mom will be able to tell I bought her card at the dollar store?

CRAP!

Chick magnet

2006-05-13T11:41:00.000-04:00

Last night we were sitting at a booth at the Chinese buffet. Our attractive waitress would coo and smile at Autumn every time she stopped by our table to take our plates or fill our drinks. After about her third visit or so, I looked at Nathan and said, "You'd totally score if you were a single dad, wouldn't you?"

"Oh yeah," he said.

Say adiós to the Cottontail clan

2006-05-12T08:30:00.000-04:00

As I was upstairs getting ready this morning I heard a crash and a shout from Nathan. I rushed downstairs to see what was going on and was greeted by my scowling husband. "She knocked the damn screen door right off its hinges," he said, referring to Molly.

Ah, the rabbits.

I peeked outside just in time to see a small rabbit speed away to parts unknown as Molly attacked the foliage on the edge of our pool deck, obviously thinking she still had the scent and would emerge victorious. We ordered her inside and made sure we let her know just how angry we were.

I guess it's time to take some action. So does anyone know of a humane way to get rid of the rabbits? Perhaps a bag of carrots laid end to end and leading into my neighbor's yard?

Open season

2006-05-10T21:21:00.000-04:00

We have a colony of rabbits in our yard that have been making Molly go bezerk. She caught one last week and deposited it in front of our upstairs slider just to show us she has skills beyond sneaking pork chops off the kitchen counter when our backs are turned. Now she's all full of herself and thinks she can take down the others. All she does is sit in front of the downstairs slider, pawing at the glass door whenever the rabbits venture out to munch on our grass. Once in awhile we'll hear a yelp, which means she's spotted one and wants out IMMEDIATELY. I usually tap on the door before I open it, you know, just to give the rabbits fair warning of what's coming. They tend to ignore me and only skedaddle when Molly makes her appearance.

Those rabbits, though. They're driving everyone around here crazy.

Head trauma

2006-05-10T16:13:00.000-04:00

Last night I was dressing Autumn and had her sitting up on the changing table. She lost her balance and fell back, hitting her head on the edge of the table. There was an audible thunk and then her face turned bright red as she registered the pain. She alternated between a very loud howl and a silent scream where her mouth was open but no sound came out. I felt awful, of course, and tried to console her. She eventually calmed down, but I felt as though I had betrayed her by not making sure she was completely safe.

That incident was pretty much on par with the tone of the day. There seemed to be one mommy-inflicted trauma after another. If I wasn’t sucking boogers out of her nose with the nasal bulb, I was abandoning her on the floor so I could help make dinner and pushing spoonfuls of cereal in her face when she clearly didn’t want it. All fodder for future therapy sessions, I’m sure.

Yesterday wasn’t all bad, though. Autumn made her first trip to the library. This was kind of a big deal since Nathan and I both love to read. We hope to someday pass this love on to our daughter and have already collected some board books that will more likely get soft with baby slobber before they’re ever read.

As we opened the doors to the library, I let out an excited breath and, sounding very much like my mother, exclaimed, “Autumn, this is the library!” I could have said, “this is Disneyworld” and it wouldn’t have made a difference to her, but I thought it was a cool moment. As we walked in, that library smell hit me. The township built a brand new library several years ago so this isn’t the same building I visited when I was a kid, but it smells exactly the same. It’s one of those smells associated with very good memories of my brother and I spending our summer days there.

After the library, we paid a visit to my grandma, who happens to live about five hundred feet from the library’s front door. Autumn wasn’t quite feeling the love and busted out crying the second I put her in Grandma’s arms. She’s been very choosy about the company she keeps lately and doesn’t like being held by someone other than Nathan or me unless she’s in a really good mood (read: not tired, not wet and not hungry). After about half an hour and much soothing and cajoling, Autumn finally decided Grandma was not the devil and happily smiled and bounced on her knee.

Since both Nathan and my grandma love to talk, it was awhile before we got back home. We put Autumn to bed a little later than usual and went to bed ourselves a little later than usual. Autumn is coming down with a cold and we heard her wheezing through the baby monitor as we tried to fall asleep. Around midnight she started crying so I retrieved her from her crib and armed myself with the saline drops and the nasal bulb.

Yes, the abuse continues.

Leftovers

2006-05-08T23:15:00.000-04:00

In spite of the dream suggesting otherwise, I did not miss out on the luscious Costco cake. I was able to snag a piece shortly after it was cut. The woman who the cake was for wasn’t so lucky since she was actually at the hospital in labor when we ate it. We heard today that she had a baby boy just under five pounds. So congrats to her and our apologies for not saving any cake.

Since I was the cake-getter, I had to house it in my refrigerator overnight. I thought this was going to be a challenge, you know, trying to stuff a whole half sheet cake into my already full fridge, but it turns out about half the contents of the fridge were way past the point of being edible. Nathan came home from golf Thursday night and saw the tower of Rubbermaid and Tupperware sitting on the kitchen counter, all of them full of things one normally sees in the trash bins of your local high school cafeteria. “All of that stuff is bad?” he asked.

We emptied out the containers together, each of us taking turns asking questions like, “When was the last time we made chicken noodle soup?” and “Is this pancake batter? I don’t even want to know.” Nathan was disgusted and insisted that we should decide if a meal is worth bringing back for a repeat before we pack it up and store the leftovers in the fridge.

The thing is, I don’t know if I’m going to want to eat something again or not. The Dutch part of me absolutely refuses to throw away good food, even if I know it will stay in the fridge until its chemical composition is completely altered. Who knows? Tomorrow I may want pancakes for breakfast and will be very thankful for that half cup of already made batter. More likely I’ll feel like eggs and forget about the batter, but it still has to be there just in case.

This logic extends outside our fridge as well. Nathan and I are planning a garage sale for Memorial Day weekend and have been creating piles in several parts of our house of things we want to sell. One thing we haven’t been able to agree on is the sale of baby clothes. He says baby clothes will draw more buyers to our house and I say we need to keep them in case we decide to have another baby or if we accidentally find ourselves having another. “We do have quite a few things that could work for a boy or a girl,” I said.

“Then sell all the girl stuff and keep the gender neutral stuff,” he said.

“But what if we have another girl?” I asked. “Then we’d have to go out and buy more girls clothes.”

I’m not at all ready for another child. I don’t know if we’ll ever be ready for more than just Autumn, but I have to have those clothes just in case. Plus, by deciding to sell the clothes I am admitting that my daughter is growing up. Yeah, I know biology and all that will keep her sprouting in spite of my protestations, but I can look at those clothes and remember the time when her little body folded perfectly into my chest and her feet barely reached my belly button.

It’s probably best to keep the clothes for now. Blame it on the part of me that’s Dutch and the other part of me that wants to keep my baby a baby as long as I can.

Groovin' on a Sunday afternoon

2006-05-08T15:54:00.000-04:00

She sits! My baby can sit up! She's good like this for about a minute before she falls over.

I think the rocking has come about since she discovered the joy of the Jumperoo. She loves to bounce on our knees and soil our pants with the contents of her stomach (I had to wash my jeans twice this weekend). We tried to get her to sit by herself last week, but she rocked so vigorously that she just toppled right over. Now she has discovered that she can still rock and maintain her balance. It's funniest when we set her to a musical soundtrack, preferably something from the '80s.

Doesn't Hallmark have an e-card for that?

2006-05-04T13:49:00.000-04:00

Flipping through the channels recently, I caught a commercial for Always maxi pads. Their new catch phrase, so skillfully woven around the product name, goes like this:

"Have a happy period. Always."

That's exactly how I would describe it. A happy time. Granted, with the exception of the five solid weeks of bleeding after having Autumn, I haven't had my period in about sixteen months and could be considered out of the loop in respect to how one feels when Auntie Flo visits.

Upon visiting the Always website, I was greeted with a flashy little poem that so perfectly sums up that "happy" time:

This is the time of month chocolate was created for.

This is the time when no toenail should go unpolished.

When the gym will get along just fine without you.

This is the time when, if something is even slightly annoying,

the world should know about it.

And if you feel like crying,

there is no inappropriate time or place.

It's your period.

You have the right to make it the best

period it can possibly be.

And we're here to help.

Have a happy period. Always.

Um, yeah. I wonder if there was even a woman in the room when this little ditty was penned. I prefer this version:

This is the time of the month to inhale a whole half gallon of
cookie dough ice cream.

This is the time when no smart remark from your
husband should go unpunished.

When the kids will get along just fine without you.

This is the time to wish you were a man so that you could, just once,
have a day in which you didn’t have to think. At all.

And if you feel like smacking someone upside the head, do it
with the knowledge that they probably deserve it.

It’s your period.

You have the right to make everyone around you miserable.

And we’re here to help.

Have a period. At least until menopause.

Retail therapy for the milk machine

2006-05-03T08:23:00.000-04:00

In spite of my resolution a few days ago that I was going to continue breast feeding as long as I can, I’ve made the decision to start weaning Autumn off the boobie. It wasn’t an easy decision and I’m a little sad about it, but right now there are more reasons to wean than to continue. I’m glad I was able to do it this long. It was more enjoyable than I ever thought it could be.

I consoled myself by shopping and bought this last night:

It’s not a Maclaren or a Peg Perego, but it has nice long handles so that her daddy doesn’t have to hunch over like Quasimodo when he pushes her in it. Hopefully we’ll all be able to go out for a walk tonight.

Let me eat cake

2006-05-01T09:36:00.000-04:00

I have to order a cake for a baby shower we’re having here at work on Friday. I was supposed to order the cake this weekend, but time slipped away from me as it seems to do lately. I went to bed last night thinking, “You must, must get to Costco tomorrow to order that cake.”

Would you believe I dreamt about cake last night? It was a scene straight out of Office Space. We were all gathered around and the cake was going fast. I was just about get myself a piece when I got distracted by something else. I turned back to the cake only to find the whole thing gone. I felt very much like Milton and was so disappointed because I really, truly love cake from Costco.

Extreme Makeover, Deck Edition

2006-04-30T18:33:00.000-04:00

One weekend about a year ago Nathan and I were keeping busy doing random household chores. I was in the kitchen loading our no-good-soon-to-be-replaced-dishwasher and he was outside on the pool deck sucking up leaves with a wet/dry vac (because we haven’t sprung for an actual leaf blower yet).

It was a nice spring day and the windows were open. I heard Nathan call out my name.

“Yeah?” I called back.

“Heather!” he shouted again.

“Ye-es” I called again, this time inserting a little inflection of impatience and irritation.

“Heather, come here, quick!” he shouted.

Since we’ve been married for almost nine years, Nathan and I have found unique ways to irritate each other. I irritate him by correcting his grammar and singing to the piped-in music at the grocery store. He irritates me by leaving his dirty socks on the kitchen island and expecting me to come running every time he has something to show me.

I opened the slider door and poked my head out. I was ready to unleash my inner bitch until I saw there was something…wrong.

It looked as though Nathan was being eaten by our deck. In the process of cleaning, one of the deck planks broke in half underneath him and one of his legs fell through. He was caught in an awkward pose; one leg folded against his chest and the other dangling above the rocks underneath the deck.

“I need a little help,” he said.

Well duh. Except I was newly pregnant and figured trying to get a six foot five, 260 pound man out of a hole probably fell into the category of “heavy lifting.” So I asked him what he wanted me to do.

“Well come here and give me a hand,” he said.

I sighed and slowly made my way toward him down the deck stairs. I figured if I took my time he might figure out I wasn’t going to be any help at all and he’d try to get himself out. And that’s exactly what happened. By the time I reached him, he had managed to stand back up and was examining the rip in his jeans and taking stock of any cuts and bruises. He was in one piece and we didn’t have to call 911.

Since then, another plank has broken (no one fell through that time) and numerous others buckle underneath us every time we walk over them. In short, the deck is falling apart.

I really, really didn’t want to buy a house with a pool. I grew up with a pool and knew how much work they were and knew I would have to actually do some of it if I was the pool’s owner. When I was a kid, I could get away with enjoying the fruits of my dad’s labor without contributing because he never trusted me or my brother to clean the pool correctly. But it was all over when we first looked at this house and stepped out on the deck to see this:

I remember showing this picture to my friends. They were surprised. “Wow, that’s a big yard,” they’d say. Um, no. That swingset you see there is the neighbor’s yard. Our backyard is the pool, two small fruit trees, some shrubs and about four square feet of grass for Molly to poop on. Makes for easy mowing, though.

Nathan was smitten right away. I warned him that pools were expensive and a pain in the neck to cover and uncover every year. If you don’t get the chemicals right you’re either going to have problems with algae or burn your eyeballs out while cheating at Marco Polo. Not to mention we live in Michigan where you get three whole months use out of a swimming pool each year. However, since the rest of the house suited our needs perfectly, we bought it, pool and all.

So back to the deck. As you can see in the above photo, the deck was already pretty worn when we bought the house two years ago. We’d talked about replacing it completely, but since we’re spending our money on such indulgences as a mortgage, groceries and daycare, we really don’t have the bucks for a brand new deck. So what are we going to do instead? Destroy it, most likely.

Actually, we just want to make it less of a hazard. Plus we wanted to re-claim a little bit of our yard so we decided to take down the east side of the deck that border’s our neighbor’s yard in back of us (the one with the swingset).

The thing is, neither of us are handy people. Nathan spent some time in the Air Force, but the Air Force really didn’t teach him practical uses for a hammer. He can guard nuclear weapons like nobody’s business, but when it comes to home repair he frequently calls upon his engineer buddy Ryan for help. Ryan has installed four ceiling fans in our house so far. Ryan rocks as a handyman but wants nothing to do with our deck project, not that I can blame him.

Me? I have a degree in English. I think that says it all.

So far, Nathan has completed some modest demolition on the deck wall. He still wants to get Ryan over here to at least judge whether we’re jeopardizing the structural integrity of the deck. My guess is that it’s going to be okay.

In the meantime, Nathan wanted me to post a few pictures so his friends can see how the project is progressing:

He’s planning on using the planks he’s taken off here to replace some of the ones rotting beneath our feet.

More loosened deck planks. He made a lot of noise doing this. I’m sure our neighbors were ready to call the cops seeing as it was a weeknight and all.

Here’s the hole Nathan fell through. There’s another one like it a few feet away.

Here you can see the corner where we plan to keep the deck and where we plan to pull it apart. I asked Nathan if we were going to put a new railing up. He said no. So instead of falling through our deck you’ll just fall off. It’ll be easier to get to the filter though.

This is what the pool looks like now. Makes you want to jump right in, doesn’t it?

She loves her some binky

2006-04-28T19:36:00.000-04:00

More info about my boobs than you ever cared to know

2006-04-26T13:57:00.000-04:00

It’s getting to be that time of year when things are picking up at work. Most people think that summers are relatively laid back when you work at a university, but that’s just not true unless you’re faculty and aren’t required to set foot on campus between the months of May and August. When I was an undergrad I told my faculty advisor once how much vacation time I received each year when I was working at the factory. He shuddered and said, “I couldn’t handle that.”

Anyway, since coming back to work I’ve been pumping the breast milk out so that Autumn can have something to eat at Carol’s house the next day. The office has been pretty cool about me leaving my desk three times a day, but still it’s a bit embarrassing when you have to pick up the phone and tell someone “I gotta go pump” because then you’re sure they’re imagining what you look like with your shirt hiked up and your boobs hanging out with the plastic cones attached and your nipples getting sucked in and out and in and out with the milk dripping into the bottles kind of like this:

So I’ve been toying with the notion of whether to wean Autumn at the sixth month mark. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, babies should be breast fed a minimum of six months. That was my goal at first. Make it to six months and then decide if I want to continue.

Another thing is I’m really, really beginning to despise the pump. I have a good one, a Medela Pump in Style that has pretty much paid for itself since I haven’t had to buy formula. I do have some on hand for emergencies, but thankfully it isn’t a staple. That shit’s expensive as hell.

One aspect of the whole pumping process is the extra baggage it adds to my morning commute. Every day I walk into the office, weighed down with the pump strapped to my back, my lunch bag in one hand and my mom-sized purse/diaper bag in the other, because you know I can’t go anywhere without an extra outfit, baby wipes, diapers and a burp cloth. So if you see me walking into the building in the morning, I look and feel a lot like this:

The only thing that keeps me going is Autumn. I just love the look on her face when she knows she’s going to get fed. In the beginning we had such a hard time perfecting her latch. I was always worried that she wasn’t opening her mouth wide enough, but now she sees the boob coming and opens wide. If I don’t get it to her fast enough she’ll cry out as if to say, “Get that thing over here NOW!”

You can tell she’s in heaven when the milk starts to flow. Her eyes roll up inside her head and she’s oblivious to everything else. If I don’t give her a burp cloth or blanket to grab while she’s nursing, she’ll grab at my skin and leave tiny little welts from her nails. Okay, so that part’s not so fun.

I guess now I’m more inclined to continue for another six months or whenever the girl is ready to stop, whichever comes first. All I know is that she’s not going to be one of those kids who drag mommy’s teat to kindergarten.

I'll call upon my friends of the sea to help save the village from the tidal wave!

2006-04-25T19:37:00.000-04:00

Just in the past two days Autumn has started doing this cry that's a combination of a squeal and a gargle. We call it her Aquaman call.

Okay, so her palate is not as refined as ours

2006-04-25T13:33:00.000-04:00

Autumn’s been eating a couple of servings a day of rice cereal since her pediatrician gave us the green light at her four-month appointment. Actually, she only gets a couple of servings during the week because Carol feeds her cereal at daycare and I feed her in the evening after work. During the weekends I’m just way too lazy to feed her cereal in the morning because, hey, I like to sleep in. But you know what sleeping in for me is now? That’s right, 7:00 am. But I digress…

A couple of days ago we decided to delve further into the land of solid food by offering Autumn some banana. Nathan cut up half of a banana and mixed it up in the Magic Bullet until it resembled something more like the head off a mug of Killian’s. I was in the process of feeding Autumn her cereal anyway and decided to see how she’d like the banana. I held the spoon up to her lips and you’d have thought I was offering her a used gym sock soaked in cat pee by the look on her face. Okay, so the first spoonful wasn’t a complete success.

I ended up mixing the rest of the banana with what was left of her cereal and she ate it without a problem. Yesterday, however, I had the nerve to mix more banana than was apparently necessary because the first bite brought out the horrified expression of culinary betrayal again. She ate, albeit reluctantly and it was pretty much hit or miss from then on. I’d try to stick the spoon in her mouth while she babbled and let the mushy mixture dribble down her chin. I’d scoop it off her chin and offer it to her again while she continued to grunt her dissatisfaction with the whole process.

At this point I have no idea if she likes banana or not or if she’s just not used to it. Nathan and I are hoping she’ll grow up to be one of those open minded kids who’ll try just about anything, but who are we kidding? Kids are bizarre creatures. Raymond exists on hot dogs and processed chicken shaped like dinosaurs and won’t eat pizza with anything but cheese on it. When I was a kid I loved canned mushrooms but couldn’t stand fresh ones. Now it’s the opposite. And don’t get me started on green beans. I’ll only eat them if they’re pickled or smothered in oil and garlic and sitting in a steam tray at the Chinese buffet. Peas? Never!

I guess we’ll just have to face the fact that the girl is not going to like everything we do. We’ll probably fret over what she eats and how much of it she eats and will eventually die of embarrassment when we visit our favorite sushi restaurant and she has a tantrum because there’s nothing on the menu with the word “nugget” in it.

Setting your alarm clock ten minutes ahead never works

2006-04-20T11:46:00.000-04:00

Most mornings are hectic since I’m now responsible for not only for remembering everything I need to bring to work but everything Autumn needs for daycare. I get up at 6:00 am every morning to feed and dress Autumn and myself and every morning I fail to make my goal to get out the door by 7:30 am. Nathan has started helping out by fixing me breakfast. He still doesn’t get up before 7:00 am, but he makes me breakfast and that helps.

Yesterday I earned the bad mother award for sending my daughter to daycare in heavy corduroy overalls and a long sleeve t-shirt. She’s starting to fit into some of her 6-9 months sizes and I thought, “Oh, this is cute. You should wear this today because pretty soon it’s going to be warm out and you won’t be able to wear it at all.” Apparently Mommy spends too much time watching cable TV and not enough time watching the local weather report because we had a beautiful, warm day yesterday during which the temps reached the 70s.

Carol usually takes the kids outside to play when it’s nice and told me she had to take the overalls off because Autumn was sweating. I pictured my little girl sitting outside in her t-shirt, diaper and little purple socks and vowed to be more prepared today. Of course I still forgot to send the sunscreen with her, but she was dressed in a cute little ensemble that bared her chunky legs and arms and promised to be much more comfortable than yesterday’s corduroy disaster. I even included a backup pair of jeans and a jacket in case this freaky Michigan weather decides to turn on us. Yeah, I’m still not watching the weather report.

Since Nathan had to leave early this morning, I lost my short order cook and had to fix my own breakfast. I fried an egg and toasted some bread while I dried my hair and Autumn sat in her cradle swing transfixed by The Wiggles, who, I might add, are the TV equivalent to crack. Apparently kids go nuts for them and I have to admit I had the “Hot Potato” song running trough my head to the point where I would have killed to hear the “Macarena” just to switch my inner frequency to another tune.

I was running five minutes late as usual, and as I picked Autumn up out of her swing to put her in the car seat the most foul smell wafted up to me. This was not the normal, sour milky smell I’ve gotten used to over the past five months. Autumn’s eating cereal now and producing some seriously smelly diapers. For a few seconds I considered pretending to be unaware of the problem and let Carol deal with it, but anyone with a nose could tell the girl was carrying a load in her pants. In an effort to avoid a visit from Child Protective Services for making bad wardrobe decisions and dropping a soiled child off at daycare, I changed the diaper. I phoned Nathan later to say we might want to consider switching to the heavy duty stage 2 Diaper Genie liners or else our house will start smelling like the restrooms at Wal-Mart.

And this time last year I was sleeping in until 7:00 am.

Dog blog

2006-04-19T09:33:00.000-04:00

In a fit of lunacy and because, you know, I have nothing else going on, I created a blog for Molly here.

We missed our nightly walk last night and I was feeling guilty. I know there are other ways to make up for that, but I think she's earned her little spot on the internet.

In spite of the title, I can't guarantee she'll post every day. Her schedule is quite packed, you know.

A heartbreaking work of staggering genius

2006-04-18T07:07:00.000-04:00

She played with this thing until I got the camera out, at which time the ceiling held more interest.

The fifth food group

2006-04-17T13:51:00.000-04:00

Originally uploaded by Heather N..

This is what remains of the second package of Snackwell's cookies I've eaten today. Rather than buy two packages at once, I took a risk and hoped the person who rang me up the first time wouldn't be the same person to ring me up the second time and recognize the fat lady buying Snackwell's yet again.

I can't buy a whole box of these because all 24 (yes I know how many come in a box) will be gone before you can say "eating disorder." While I was on my maternity leave, I bought a box during my weekly shopping trip and consumed it in one afternoon. I actually packed Autumn in the car and drove down to the grocery store to replace the box I'd eaten so Nathan wouldn't know how much of a pig I am (even though we've been married for almost nine years and he knows exactly how much of a pig I am).

These should be registered as a controlled substance. I mean, really...

Happy Easter!

2006-04-16T12:59:00.000-04:00

Catfight

2006-04-14T09:53:00.000-04:00

The first thing Carol said to me when I stopped to pick Autumn up yesterday was, “we got some owies today.” Apparently Carol went to do some dishes and left Autumn in the play room with 9 month-old Brooke. Autumn was on one end of the room on her back and Brooke was on the other side happily playing with some toys. All of the sudden Carol hears screaming coming from my child and rushes back into the room to see Brooke pawing at Autumn like a grizzly bear. Never having been abused in such a manner, Autumn was quite inconsolable for a good half hour. She came out of the tussle with a few scratches on her face that still looked pretty red when I picked her up. By the evening her face looked much better but I took a picture anyway in case Autumn decides to press charges:

Carol felt awful, of course, and vowed to keep Bruiser Brooke sequestered in an Exersaucer from now on whenever she leaves the play room. I think Brooke felt a little guilty too because she started crying when Carol explained what happened. I told Brooke it was okay, but I don’t think Autumn is willing to be so forgiving. Carol said for the rest of the afternoon Autumn would cry any time Brooke came near her.

For the rest of the evening we joked about Nathan having to teach Autumn some self defense moves. We’d bob and weave and punch our fists into the air saying, “Brooke! Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!” Autumn thought it was a hoot, but I hope she was taking notes. I really don’t want to have to send extra lunch money with her to school some day.

Out with it

2006-04-13T12:02:00.000-04:00

When I was pregnant, I read a lot about being pregnant. I read about infant health problems, sleep deprivation and what it might feel like to push an entire human being out of my nether regions. One thing I didn’t research was having a c-section. It’s not that I didn’t want to be informed, but I thought if I remained happily ignorant then I’d have a successful “natural” delivery. Of course now I know that’s a crock of shit.

The same thing can be said for postpartum depression. I read nothing about it because I was so sure it wasn’t going to happen to me. I have a wonderful, easygoing child who started sleeping through the night at 11 weeks, a great support system and a husband who would do anything for me. For awhile things were fine and I was pretty content.

Since I had read nothing about PPD, I ended up telling my loving husband that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about when he had the nerve to suggest I might have it. “You can’t get postpartum depression after five months,” I snapped. When Nathan told me it is possible and that he’d been doing some research, I demanded he cite his sources and all but called him a liar when he couldn’t instantly produce the name of a web site he’d visited. Did I mention one of the symptoms of PPD is irritability?

The easiest explanation I can give is that a switch seems to have gone off in my head. Last week I was fine, this week I’m not. I’m not very happy at work, and that unhappiness came to a head last Friday when I found out I didn’t get a job I applied for in another department. Over the past four years I’ve applied for six other jobs. That’s seven jobs, seven interviews and seven rejections.

I went home this weekend and tried to brush it off, but Sunday I woke up with the worst headache I’d had in a long time. I was tired, achy and so weak I could barely lift Autumn out of her crib. I spent the rest of the day collapsed on the couch, watching bad TV and fighting off a fever. At the time I thought it might have been the Chinese buffet. Now I’m not so sure.

I’ve been in bad moods before, but those usually last a half day to a day at the most. These bad feelings aren’t going away, but I’ve been to the doctor and am trying to work through it.

I know most of the people who read this are people I know and work with. Since I haven’t talked about it at all, this is probably a surprise but a nonetheless welcome explanation as to why I’ve been so mental lately. I still don’t feel like talking about it, but writing about it does make me feel a little better.

Ants (not the cutesy Disney kind)

2006-04-12T09:50:00.000-04:00

Last summer Nathan and I noticed a lot of ants. Big honking mutant THEM! ants that invaded our house and creeped me out to no end. I can handle bugs most of the time, but these ants had were insidious invaders that had the ability to pop up out of nowhere. I’d be watching TV and catch one creeping on the carpet next to the entertainment center or crawling on the living room wall. The worst was when I stepped into the bathroom to find a half dozen or so congregating around the toilet. We sprayed but they kept coming back.

A couple of weeks ago I saw my first mutant ant again. I shrieked a very girlish shriek and squashed him with a square of paper towel. After receiving visits from a couple of his friends, I finally decided to call these guys. Marla and Ryan recommended them after they took care of a carpenter ant problem they had a couple of years ago.

I did a little Googling and found out that our mutant ants were most likely carpenter ants as well. Carpenter ants like moisture and I found most of the ants last year in the bathroom and laundry room. Last week I found an ant inside a Ziploc baggie I had left on the counter. I sealed the bag up and left him to die whatever horrible death he deserved for trying to eat my house. I also wanted to show him to the bug guy when he came over for an inspection.

In spite of my best efforts to keep my specimen for the bug guy to see, the ant in the bag made it into the trash before our inspection. The good news is, thanks to my lax housekeeping, we had a few dead ants in the track of our downstairs sliding door. So it would seem the ants we have are not the benign worker ants that like to play with sand and steal the contents of your picnic basket. Yep, they’re carpenter ants. “How much damage can these things do in a year?” I asked, thinking back to last summer’s infestation.

“A lot,” said the bug guy.

Let’s just hope the damage is minimal.

Here's your fortune, cookie

2006-04-07T20:56:00.000-04:00

Today was a crummy day, so I decided to fix it with Chinese food. Nathan and I went to our favorite buffet after work. The bill came with the usual two fortune cookies. I cracked one open and read "Tonight will be your lucky night."

"I think I opened yours," I said and handed it to Nathan. He got a kick out of it because, of course, we have to tack "in bed" onto the end of every time.

Later on at home, we were visited by a Scwan's dealer who gave us a catalog and a free half gallon of vanilla ice cream. After the dealer left, Nathan held the ice cream up to me and said, "See, hon, tonight is your lucky night!"

Like sappy song lyrics, these are the days of our lives

2006-04-07T14:59:00.000-04:00

I was on my way to work today and listening to a local radio station that plays everything from Roxette to Nirvana. It’s my favorite station because it plays a lot of the songs I loved during my formidable years. One morning I was listening to the station while nursing Autumn and they played “La Bamba”; not the original Ritchie Valens version, but the Los Lobos version from the movie with Lou Diamond Phillips, you know, back before he became perp-of-the-week on “Law and Order: SVU.”

So this morning I again heard a blast from the past; Lisa Loeb’s “Stay.” I love that song because it’s actually in my range and I can warble along pretty decently until she gets to the “I can leave, I can leave” part. At that point the notes start getting caught in my throat and I either need voice lessons or a drink of water. As I was singing along this morning, I started flashing back to when this song was popular and for a minute I felt as though I was 22 years-old again. I was in the car by myself, having just dropped Autumn off at daycare. For just that minute I felt all the possibilities of being 22 and how foreign it all felt to my 34 year-old self.

One of the benefits of being that young is that you really think anything is possible, so much so that it’s impossible to believe otherwise. When I was 22, I just knew I was going to make things happen for myself. Like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, I was going to shake the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and see the world.

Wow. Was I really that person? Needless to day, I didn’t do everything I thought I’d do. This crummy little town is still my home, but that's not the tragedy I thought it would be. This is actually an ok place to raise a family.

So I’m not 22 anymore. In twelve years 34 will look a hell of a lot better than 46.

It was just really strange, feeling 22 again.

I wanna be a comedian

2006-04-06T12:29:00.000-04:00

You really need your sound on for this:

Is that perfect timing or what?

Not-so-happy daisy

2006-04-04T10:24:00.000-04:00

I don't really like to complain about work here. If you're sitting in a cube under flourescent lights surrounded by mounds of paperwork and a constantly ringing phone, your job pretty much sucks and there's not much more you can say about it.

Fran gave me this pretty gerber daisy yesterday. It would seem this office is not just sucking the life out of me. This is just pathetic. It looks like it's pleading to the flowers on my calendar for a quick and painless death.

First Feeding-The Video

2006-04-03T18:13:00.000-04:00

Video Sharing at DropShots.com

Saving Daylight

2006-04-03T13:09:00.000-04:00

Feed me, Seymour!

Saturday night we were all sitting around watching TV when all of the sudden it hit me: Daylight Savings Time.

“Crap,” I said, “Autumn should be in bed.” Even though it was only just past 9 pm, I wasn’t sure how she was going to handle losing an hour of sleep. I knew how I was going to handle it and wasn’t really looking forward to rising early for church. The gambler in me decided to rely on my internal clock rather than my alarm. I figured I’d face the possible consequences of eternal damnation for choosing sleep over God.

The next morning, however, Autumn woke promptly at 7:15 am. I was imagining having to pull her out of a sound sleep, but she was awake, happy and hungry. Going to bed that night was a different story. While I put her down at 9 pm, her little internal clock was saying, “Wait a minute…it’s only 8:00!” We played the “insert the binky” game for about 20 minutes, something we hadn’t done since she started sleeping through the night. Id’ put the binky in, she’d spit it out and cry. Nathan would put it in, she’d spit it out and cry. Every time we’d go into her room she’d greet us with a smile that said, “I know you want to pick me up. Why don’t we hang out for awhile?”

The time in between waking and sleeping was pretty fun. We fed Autumn in her high chair for the first time yesterday. At her 4-month appointment the doctor told us we could start feeding her rice cereal. We tried a very soupy mixture of cereal and breast milk in a bottle a couple of weeks ago, but she threw up the entire contents of her stomach afterwards which left us thinking she wasn’t quite ready. Lately we’ve noticed her making a lot of chewing motions with her mouth which could be a developmental sign that she’s now ready. I say “could” because the chewing motions could also be a result of teething or mean that she’s ready to wean. At this point it’s a crap shoot, really.

So last night we mixed up another soupy mixture of cereal and breast milk and sat the girl in her never-before-used high chair. This time I fed her with a spoon instead of the bottle. What a laugh riot! As soon as she realized the spoon held yummy goodness, she attacked it with vigor every time it came near. Of course not much got into her tummy. She still has a bit of that tongue thrust reflex that wants to push things out. Tonight we’ll try a thicker mixture and see how that goes.

A fable about karma

2006-03-31T11:23:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, there was a young couple who lived in small apartment. They had noisy neighbors, a tiny bathroom and had to pay one dollar each time they wanted to wash or dry a load of laundry.

After living in the small apartment for six years with the noisy neighbors, tiny bathroom and coin laundry, the couple finally decided they needed something new. They very much wanted their own home but didn’t have enough money for the required down payment. One day the woman was searching through the newspaper and saw an advertisement for a duplex for rent not far from their apartment. She called the number in the ad and arranged to have a look at the place.

The duplex was grand compared to the apartment. It had a basement, a yard to mow and a bigger bathroom. There was even a washer and dryer hook-up in the basement so that they would no longer have to use the coin laundry. Best of all, the unit had central air conditioning. Oh joy!

The owner of the duplex had the couple sign a lease and asked for the first month’s rent and a security deposit equal to one month’s rent. The couple paid the landlord and arranged to move their possessions into the duplex. All was well with them for awhile.

A few months later, the couple had a problem with the furnace and called the landlord to have it fixed. “Just go ahead and have it fixed and deduct what you paid from next month’s rent,” the landlord said.

The couple was confused. Wasn’t it the landlord’s responsibility to arrange for and pay for repairs? They shrugged their shoulders and foolishly did what the landlord suggested. They figured they should get used to taking care of home repairs since they would eventually be responsible for them when they finally owned a home.

Over the next few years the couple saw very little of the landlord. He would stop by occasionally in his silver and black Corvette and complain about the water bill, the only utility the couple did not have to pay. Many requests for repairs were ignored or referred to the landlord’s troll of a father who didn’t appreciate having to travel the quarter mile from his house to the duplex to fix things. Eventually the couple decided it was easier to take care of minor repairs themselves instead of hassling with the horrible landlord and his equally horrible father.

One day, however, the toilet cracked and the couple knew this was one repair they didn’t want to fix themselves. They called the landlord, who said he would stop by later on and have a look at it. When the couple came home from work that day, they found a brand new toilet in their bathroom. They were impressed with how quickly the landlord had taken care of the repair.

Later that night, just before bed, the woman decided to wash a load of laundry. She brought the basket downstairs and was horrified to see a torrent of water raining down from above. It seems she had just flushed the brand new toilet and this unwelcome waterfall was the result. She tried to contact the landlord but was greeted with only a voicemail to leave a message. The only thing the couple could do was turn off the water and wait for the landlord to call back.

The next morning the landlord returned their call and explained that he had not completely installed the toilet. He had yet to seal it and failed to tell the couple, apparently thinking this was not crucial information for them to have. The couple was disgusted and from then on dubbed the idiot Evil Landlord.

After a particularly long winter in which the furnace problems returned and the pilot light extinguished at frequent intervals resulting in frigid indoor temperatures, the couple finally decided it was time to move into their own home. They looked at houses all spring and found one to their liking in June. They happily gave notice to Evil Landlord and made preparations to move. Evil Landlord was not pleased as the couple had given him less than 30 days notice. The couple did not feel obligated to give more notice since Evil Landlord had not been the most attentive owner.

The woman spent the few weeks before the move furiously cleaning the duplex. She cleaned the kitchen cabinets inside and out. She cleaned inside and under the refrigerator. She washed the windows, laundered the drapes and steam cleaned the carpets. She even mopped the concrete floor downstairs where their cats had frequently emptied the contents of their stomachs. The duplex had never looked so clean when they lived there.

A few weeks after the couple moved into their new house, they received an envelope from Evil Landlord in the mail. Inside was a check for their security deposit, made out for less than half the amount originally given to him. The couple was furious and immediately called Evil Landlord, who claimed he had to make “necessary repairs” and that the couple had not given him sufficient notice before they vacated the premises. While they momentarily considered litigation, the couple felt the lost money was worth never having to deal with Evil Landlord again.

The woman, however, was not able to forget things so easily. She entertained fantasies in which she returned to the empty duplex and turned on the outside faucet to both increase Evil Landlord’s water bill and hopefully flood the basement. Knowing she would probably get caught, the woman abandoned her plan of sabotage, her only comfort being the belief that Evil Landlord would eventually reap what he sowed. She could only hope to be there to witness it.

Over the next couple of years, the couple enjoyed their new home. They eventually had a baby and forgot all about Evil Landlord and his evil ways until one day the woman came home to find her husband with a huge grin on his face.

“My dear,” he said, “you’ll never guess what I saw today. Evil Landlord on Chicago Drive, his ‘Vette in the ditch smashed to bits.”

The woman gasped. “Surely you jest! You know I’ve had a trying day at work. This isn’t just an attempt to cheer me? Are you sure it was him?”

“He was standing next to his car and talking on a cellular telephone,” her husband replied.

“Oh please, can we go look? Let’s pack the child in the car and go!” the woman exclaimed.

Her husband laughed. “My dear, they’ve probably towed the car away by now.”

The woman sighed, disappointed but her mood much elevated. She knew it to be true. Even though she didn’t witness it herself, she was able to hear a firsthand account of it:

Karma. It’s a bitch.

AtumnTV

2006-03-21T10:20:00.000-05:00

Nathan and I are trying something new. We’ve made a pact to keep the TV off until 8:00 pm. I usually like nothing better than to come home, plop my pillows on the couch and nurse Autumn while the tube is on, but we’ve been watching the same shows over and over and over. I mean, how many times can you watch the “King of the Hill” episode where Chuck Mangione hides out at the Mega-lo-Mart before you start to think it’s time to change your routine?

So last night we kept the TV off. Instead, I read a book while I nursed. I know, I’m really supposed to be paying attention to the child while she’s feeding. Most of the time I do, but there’s really only so much you can say to someone who’s more interested in your chest than whatever it is you’re talking about. I have the same problem with Nathan sometimes.

I have to admit I didn’t miss the TV one bit. After I fed Autumn, I set her down on the floor to see if she’d roll over again. Apparently she kept her skills to herself while she was at Carol’s house, much to Carol’s disappointment. I have the feeling Carol had her on her back quite a bit during the day because Autumn only tolerated about 20 minutes of rolling onto her side and flopping back over before she turned into a little crank-meister and refused to humor us further.

After floor time, I strapped Autumn into her swing and started back into my book. A few sentences in, I glanced over at her and saw she was staring at me with the same look Molly gives me when I’m eating, a look that says, “I’d love whatever you’ve got over there.” No matter how much I tried to get back into the book, I couldn’t do it because the girl wouldn’t take her eyes off me. I finally got off my butt and retrieved her from the swing. Still in crank mode, she didn’t finally settle down until I had her nestled in my arms with some colorful toys and her binky.

I had a wonderful time holding her in my arms. I held my hand up in front of her face while she grabbed my fingers. I shook the toys, which she enthusiastically tried to stuff in her mouth. She chatted constantly and we both enjoyed some quality time distraction-free.

I was almost sorry to see 8:00 roll around. I’m sure we could have kept the TV off all night, but we’re serious “24” addicts. Hey, the first step to recovery is recognizing you have a problem, right?

Baby steps, my friends, baby steps.

Rollin' with the homies

2006-03-20T08:57:00.000-05:00

Catching that elusive smile

After a week or so of trying and trying and only getting as far as her side, Autumn finally succeeded in rolling over yesterday. I’m so glad we were able to see it. It actually happened at Nathan’s parents’ house so his mom and dad were able to see it, too.

We actually missed the very first roll over. We had Autumn on her back on a blanket on the floor but we were all kind of busy doing our own thing. All of the sudden we heard her cry out and saw she had flipped over onto her stomach. Nathan flipped her over onto her back and we all watched intently to see if she’d do it again. Sure enough, she did it again and again. Of course once she’s flipped over she can’t roll back. I guess that part is covered in the intermediate roll-over lessons at baby school.

I was afraid this new found ability would make bedtime a challenge. I had visions of returning to her room throughout the night to keep flipping her onto her back, but Autumn stayed put the whole night. Getting her to finally sleep was a challenge though. She was super-crabby girl, the result of a little over-stimulation at grandma and grandpa’s, I think.

Of course I had to tell Carol as soon as I dropped Autumn off this morning. I was able to keep the “nyah-nyah” tone out of my voice, but I’m still so glad this milestone happened on my watch.

Mutant muffins

2006-03-17T13:23:00.000-05:00

I came across these muffins last week at one of the various eateries on campus. I've seen big muffins before, but these suckers actually brought me back for another look-see and to take a picture. I put a banana next to it just so you can see how outrageously huge it is. I was going to ask the cashier to hold it up next to her head, but I'm sure she would have thought I was crazy.

And you know there's some 20-something student out there eating one of these things every day and complaining that she needs to lose 2 pounds.

Do I sound bitter?

Got Milk?

2006-03-17T08:39:00.000-05:00

This is what I found when I came home yesterday:

That is what remained of an empty milk jug I set out on the counter before I left for work. I was supposed to take it down to our recycling bins but forgot. Usually Molly doesn't target things like this, but she must have been especially bored yesterday. Poor pup. I think we're going to have to up her daily kibble allowance so that she stays away from the #2 plastic. Maybe she's not acting out so much as really really hungry because nothing seems to be safe anymore. We have to be very careful about how much we feed her because we had "weight issues" last year. Molly developed a pretty bad limp from what appeared to be the beginning of rheumatoid arthritis. We put her on the doggy diet food and were able to take about eight pounds off of her. Like me, she just can't say no to a good snack.

In other news, I know someone who turned four months old yesterday...

Who, me?

The Reese's defense

2006-03-14T14:22:00.001-05:00

A co-worker just emailed me and asked if I had any Reese’s peanut butter eggs stashed at my desk. At first I had to wonder if she sent me the email by mistake because, folks, I do not stash Reese’s. If a peanut butter egg is hanging around my desk it’s because I haven’t found it yet. I’m not one of those freaks who can take three eggs, eat one and let the other two hang out at my desk to become friends for the rest of the day. They disappear before they can tell the other eggs what really happens when you leave the bag.

Did I happen to mention I absolutely love Reese’s?

I was really excited when they started coming out with all these new flavors. White chocolate, inside out, caramel, chocolate lovers, peanut butter lovers. And the big cup. I thought the big cup was the next thing to heaven until I found out they only come one to a package. There's nothing like the classic cup, though.

I remember one year for Christmas I bought both of my uncles tree-shaped candy containers and bags of mini Reese’s to fill them. I made the mistake of filling the containers a couple of weeks before Christmas. I should have just kept the bags sealed, shoved them under my bed and tried to forget about them. First I took a Reese’s out of one container and then the other (to even things out) until I was back at the store buying two more bags of candy. I think my uncles eventually received tree-shaped containers filled with pretzels or nuts that year.

When I hear someone say, “I’d kill for a drink right now,” I think, “I’d kill for a peanut butter cup.” If I thought I could successfully be acquitted of the crime, I’d probably kill. Okay maybe not kill, but maim. All I’d need is some hotshot lawyer willing to take a risk and declare Reese’s addiction a mental deficit. Maybe I could pay the retainer in chocolate.

My future's so bright

2006-03-11T18:54:00.000-05:00

We had a gorgeous day here today. The sun was out, we took a walk and went shopping. We couldn't resist these sunglasses. They just screamed "buy me!" so we did. Autumn didn't quite know what to make of them at first. It was kind of like trying to put a hat on a dog (which we've also tried before), but she got used to them pretty quick.

Mom and Dad also got into the act

Sunshine and shopping at Target. Now that's a pretty good day.

365 days ago

2006-03-10T11:06:00.000-05:00

When you first find out you’re pregnant and are preparing to break the news to your husband, all sorts of clever and romantic scenarios to convey the news pop into your head. Not one of those scenarios involve sending your husband an instant message that goes like this:

YOU: Would I freak you out if I told you I thought I could be pregnant?
HIM: nope

Well, that’s exactly how I broke the news to Nathan one year ago today. We don’t talk to each other on the phone much during work hours because both of our jobs involve answering a lot of customer calls. We’ve found it easier to just IM each other and mostly use it to discuss dinner plans or continue an argument we had before work. You gotta love technology.

I can’t remember exactly what prompted me that day to think I could have been pregnant. I think it was an idea that kept coming back again and again until I decided to investigate it. I may have googled “pregnancy signs” or something of the sort. I’d been feeling very tired and there were other physical indicators that, when put together, spelled out M-O-M.

I only live about 15 minutes from work, so I stopped off at the store on my lunch hour and bought a pregnancy test. It was a stupid EPT test that was very ineffective at answering my question. EPT tests are the ones that have a plus sign if you’re pregnant and a minus sign if you’re not. The line that makes the minus sign is the control line that’s supposed to be bright pink no matter what the result is. My control line was very faint to the point of being invisible, but the line that’s supposed to make the plus was bright pink. All I could think was, “okay, what the hell does this mean?”

Later that night I sprung for the expensive, high tech test that actually says “pregnant” or “not pregnant.” That one was more accurate and a bit more fun, too. It was like pulling the arm of a slot machine and waiting to see how the fruit line up. Just for shits and giggles, I took it again before I went to bed so that I could see the word “pregnant” flash at me one more time.

I eventually made up for my un-romantic IM to Nathan with a cute reveal to my parents. We bought each of them a GVSU sweatshirt, one that said “Grandma” and another that said “Grandpa.” My mother’s reaction when she pulled hers out of the bag is one I will always remember. As she sat there screaming, my father, who had yet to open his bag, looked at my mother like she was nuts. “Open your bag! Open your bag!” she shouted. My father’s reaction? “Oooohhhh…”

Wow, has it really been a year?

In case you were wondering...

2006-03-09T15:28:00.000-05:00

Inspired by a couple of my favorite bloggers and just because I can, I compiled the following list of 100 bits of random info about yours truly. Kudos to you if you make it through the whole thing.

**********************************************************************************
1. I used to want to be an actress.

2. I once auditioned for a commercial for a grocery store chain. I didn’t get the job.

3. I don’t get along with people who are most like me.

4. I have the theme to Harry Potter set as my cell phone ring tone.

5. I met my husband when we were both working at Target.

6. My parents met when they were both working at K-Mart.

7. Both my father and my husband have worked for Pinkerton’s Security Service.

8. I have a personalized autographed photo of Wolfman Jack.

9. I attended the U.S. Figure Skating Championships in 1993, 1994 and 1995.

10. One of those years I brought a TV band radio along so I could listen to Dick Button’s commentary during ABC’s live broadcast. Before they went on air, I picked up ABC’s audio feed on my radio and listened as Peggy Fleming trashed another skater’s outfit.

11. I met Tonya Harding the year before the infamous Kerrigan “knee whacking” incident.

12. Harding totally snubbed me when I asked for her autograph.

13. I was at the practice session where the Kerrigan “knee whacking” incident occurred but left before it actually happened.

14. My mother once shared an elevator with Tara Lipinski.

15. I’m no longer that much of a figure skating fan, though I did watch every episode of “Skating with Celebrities.”

16. I once wrapped a boyfriend’s car in plastic wrap after he failed to help me tee pee my boss’ house.

17. I “borrowed” the plastic wrap from the stockroom at Target.

18. The reason he didn’t help me was because he was drunk.

19. He was only my boyfriend for three months. We were supposedly better off being just friends but I hated his guts afterwards and only pretended to be cool with the breakup.

20. He was the last boyfriend I had before I met my husband.

21. When I was sixteen, I dressed up in a gorilla costume and stood on a busy street with a sign that said, “Buy One Get One Free” as a promotion for the Subway restaurant where I worked.

22. I once mistakenly wrote down the wrong hours for my Subway schedule and failed to open the restaurant on a Sunday morning.

23. No one opened the Subway until the owner dropped by later in the afternoon. He was pissed but didn’t fire me.

24. I showed up for work later that day dressed as a witch because it was the day before Halloween. That was by far one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

25. I used to say I never wanted children. Now I wish I had the time, money and energy for more.

26. I had a huge fight with my paternal grandmother and didn’t speak to her for five years. See also item #3.

27. Said grandmother has a rare copy of Mein Kampf in its original German.

28. My paternal grandfather died during my first week of college.

29. My brother and I had a fight at his funeral.

30. I’m not fighting with any members of my family at the moment.

31. I’ve written fan letters to Olivia Newton John and Kirk Cameron.

32. My lowest adult weight was 165 lbs.

33. My highest adult weight was 312 lbs.

34. I’m somewhere in between those two numbers now.

35. The last time I called in sick to work when I really wasn’t sick was in order to meet mystery author Sue Grafton.

36. During my “acting” days, I dressed up as a ghoul for the Haunted Train ride from Coopersville to Marne.

37. I still can’t believe people paid good money for that ride.

38. I changed my major four times during college and actually ended up getting a degree in my original major; English Lit.

39. It took me eleven years to earn that degree.

40. I once went out with a guy who told me he didn’t mind dating “big girls” and that he had once gone out with a girl who weighed “almost 300 lbs.”

41. The world applauded him for his community service and I dumped him shortly afterwards.

42. I once had a woman ask me when I was “due.” I wasn’t pregnant at the time, yet when I was pregnant my grandmother repeatedly told me I didn’t look pregnant at all.

43. I started dating my husband while he was still married to another woman.

44. I’m not a homewrecker. They were separated.

45. I’m the only grandchild in my family to go to college.

46. I’ve had only three jobs over the past 17 years.

47. The best job I had was driving hi-lo in a factory warehouse.

48. The worst job I had was working at Burger King.

49. I hate peas but love split pea soup.

50. My mom and I were once locked out of a parking ramp in Phoenix. We walked the whole way around the ramp in the middle of the night before flagging down the cops.

51. My mom told me never to tell my father we were walking around downtown Phoenix in the middle of the night.

52. My father found out I was moving in with my husband after he came home from a vacation and found our brand new bedroom furniture in his living room.

53. One year I gained forty pounds in four months. I wasn’t sick, I just ate a lot.

54. My transmission conked out on me one day after the dealer’s warranty expired.

55. I was in Chicago at the time and had to rent a car to get back home.

56. The car rental cost more than the new transmission because we had invested in an extended warranty.

57. That was the only time we took advantage of an extended warranty. For anything. Ever.

58. I’ve seen every Star Wars movie during its original run.

59. Before I saw the The Empire Strikes Back, my best friend at the time spoiled the ending for me by revealing that Vader was Luke’s father.

60. I used to be in love with Michael J. Fox and entered a contest to win the denim jacket he wore in Back to the Future. I didn’t win it.

61. I did, however, win free airline tickets through a Diet Rite cola contest. That’s how I ended up walking around downtown Phoenix in the middle of the night with my mother.

62. I won first place in the fiction category in a college writing contest.

63. The next year I tied for second in two categories, neither of them fiction.

64. When I was a little kid, my uncle was a DJ for a rock station. I called during his shift once and asked him to play a Barry Manilow song.

65. He laughed at me and ended up playing something else. He added a nice dedication to me, though.

66. I only liked Barry because my mom did.

67. I was in a college class with the son of one of the Four Tops.

68. The first TV show I remember watching on cable was “The Flintsones.”

69. I’ve had a TV in my bedroom since I was 12 years old.

70. I’ve had the same TV in my bedroom since 1992.

71. The only movie I ever felt like walking out of was Cape Fear with Robert DeNiro yet I sat through Jim Carey’s The Mask twice.

72. My father used to teach sex ed in school but never once had “the talk” with me.

73. I’m old enough to have been vaccinated for smallpox yet young enough to only be familiar with two Kennedys; John Jr. and Edward.

74. I was watching “Saturday Night Live” the night Sinead O’Connor dissed the Pope.

75. I love Mowtown music.

76. I’m addicted to lip balm.

77. A picture of my father holding a picket sign ran in our local paper when he and the other teachers at his school went on strike.

78. I found my first gray hair when I was 19 years old.

79. I’ve seen Amy Grant in concert five times.

80. My goal is to set foot in all 50 states before I die. So far I have about half of them covered.

81. I’ve never once taken drugs.

82. I got sick the first time I saw Pretty Woman in the theater. The movie didn’t make me sick, I just happened to come down with the flu that day.

83. I used to own every Strawberry Shortcake doll ever made.

84. My father once gave away all my sweaters to Goodwill after he mistakenly thought they were clothes no one wore anymore.

85. I’m still waiting for an apology from him for that.

86. I’ve only kept in touch with one friend from high school.

87. I’m becoming more and more like my mother every day.

88. I tried smoking when I was sixteen.

89. I once stole candy from a store. My mom made me return it when she heard me trying to unwrap it in the back seat of the car.

90. I’ve been both behind and in front of the camera during PBS pledge week.

91. I watch PBS but have never pledged money to them.

92. I had the most hideous lime green paint and carpet in my room when I was a kid.

93. I live thirty minutes from Lake Michigan but haven’t been to the beach in fourteen years.

94. I do not tan, I burn.

95. The last trip I took was to Las Vegas.

96. The last good trip I took was to Boston.

97. I freaked out the first time I saw this picture of Louisa May Alcott because she looked so much like my mother.

98. I believe in karma.

99. My daughter is the most precious thing in my life.

100. My husband is a very tolerant man to put up with me.

Let's take bread

2006-03-09T08:23:00.000-05:00

Last night a lady from the church we've been attending stopped over for a little welcome visit. We chatted for a few minutes and she handed us a loaf of bread and some church literature. After she left, Nathan set the bread on the counter and we loaded Autumn into the car to go to Costco.

By this point you can probably see where I'm going with this.

On the way to Costco, Nathan gasped. "Oh no. I left the bread on the counter."

"Let's turn around," I said.

"It's no use, " he said, "it's already gone."

"Well it is church bread. You don't think maybe it will be protected by the grace of God?" I asked, only half joking.

"No way. That dog has the devil in her," he said.

Of course he wasn't wrong. As soon as we got home, Nathan went upstairs, curious to see what, if anything, remained of the bread. All he found was the plastic bag it came in, which was torn to bits. He looked down at Molly. "Well you're not getting any dinner now," he said.

We'd only been home about five minutes before Molly proceeded to puke up the entire loaf of bread on the rug of our front landing. Fortunately I was nursing Autumn and didn't have to clean that mess up.

At this rate, I'll be able to write one hell of a good book about that dog some day.

It's all part and parcel of the whole mommy gig

2006-03-08T11:23:00.001-05:00

It’s amazing to watch Autumn grow and develop. Every day I see something new that I hadn’t noticed the day before. This weekend I bought her a new pacifier clip shaped like a bunny. I noticed last night that she couldn’t take her eyes off it. She sat in her swing and stroked it repeatedly until she fell asleep.

Nathan and I are waiting for her to roll over for the first time. We’re sure it’s going to happen any day now. We’ve been putting her on her activity mat every night, watching as she rolls on her side, stopping short of doing a complete 180 onto her stomach. She just hasn’t been able to get that far yet. I told Nathan that we should face the fact that we may not even witness her first roll-over because it might happen while she’s in daycare.

Daycare is the bane of the working mother’s existence. It’s hard to leave your kid in someone else’s care all day. It’s like a heavy dose of guilt with a weekly bill attached. Every morning when I drop Autum off, I tell Carol when she last ate and that’s about it. Sometimes we chat for a bit, but most of the time it’s quick in, quick out. I want to linger but I can’t. I want to keep looking at my daughter but I don’t. Most of the time I just turn around and leave because that’s the only thing I can do. It’s like ripping a band-aid off really fast so that it doesn’t hurt as much.

While I’ve come to trust Carol, I can’t help but feel jealous at the bond she’s formed with my daughter. Carol notices things; some that I miss and some that I don’t, but most of all she has this relationship with Autumn that I’m not privy to. This morning she greeted Autumn with her usual “hello, boo-tee-full!” and then asked, “how’s my baby girl?”

Wait a minute. She’s my baby girl.

Unfortunately we’re not yet at that point financially where I can stay home with Autumn. I’ve thought about becoming a licensed daycare provider just so I could be home with her and still make a living, but I really don’t want to look after anyone else’s children. It takes a special kind of person to be willing to stay indoors with a house full of kids all day. I couldn’t do it. It would drive me batty.

I guess that’s where I’m conflicted. During my maternity leave, I was able to feel what it would be like to be a stay-at-home mom. Autumn and I had a routine that mostly consisted of her sleeping while I watched TV. I knew that if I was to actually stay home with her full time things would need to change. I would need to start engaging her and get her mind working instead of catching up with Briscoe and Green on “Law and Order.” Once I started thinking about that, a feeling worse than guilt started setting in; relief.

I was relieved to think I would be going back to work and that some of the pressure would be off me to be the mommy. I could get a part of my old life back and it would be someone else’s job to feed Autumn, change her diapers and soothe her when she’s cranky. How horrible is that?

Of course when I finally went back to work I missed Autumn terribly. I was depressed for that whole first week and cried almost every night when I went to bed. Actually leaving her was so much harder than I ever thought it would be. Now I just try to make the most of what time I do have with her. Even then, there are moments when all I really want to do is read a book or take a nap.

I guess what I want is something that gives me the best of both worlds; a fair amount of independence coupled with more time with Autumn. I don’t know if that’s even possible. Maybe it’s asking too much. Is it too much to want it all?

Next, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!

2006-03-06T09:40:00.000-05:00

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, and witness my improved motor skills as I deftly pull this ordinary, everyday binky out of my own mouth. Thanks to the wonder of an opposable thumb, I am now able to grasp things.

Here I sit, calmly enjoying my binky. As you can see, my hand is just reaching for the convenient handle that makes pulling it out oh-so-easy.

Now watch as I pull the binky out. See how my fingers have a firm grasp on it?

Umm….okay. Now what do I do with it? Maybe I’ll fling it on the floor and cry until Mommy or Daddy puts it back in my mouth. That’s always fun.

I'll take "Mystery Stains" for $100, Alex

2006-03-04T19:39:00.000-05:00

We had a horrible diaper today. I mean "we" in the royal sense. Her Royal Highness Miss Poopy Pants offered up another beautiful abstract work of art. It went up her back and required a team effort to clean up. Undressing the girl was a challenge since we didn't want to get any gunk in her hair when we pulled the stained onsie over her head. Let's just say she went right into the bath afterwards.

Later, after a dinner of brats and soup, we were sitting in the living room watching TV. I looked down at my shirt and noticed a yellow stain. I pointed to it and asked Nathan, "Is that mustard or poo?"

I don't know which is more disturbing; that it actually could have been poo or that I really didn't care what it was.

From Snausages to sausages

2006-03-03T16:27:00.000-05:00

Let me just put it out there. Nathan and I are dumb. Sign us up for a ride on the short bus because our dog has once again outsmarted us.

Just when we think we have her figured out, Molly proves to us that she will eat just about anything. This morning it was sausages. Four nice, full size frozen smoked sausages to be exact.

I pulled the sausages out of the freezer before we left this morning. Nathan had the day off and took me in to work since his car was in the shop. We gave Molly a couple of Snausages to keep her until Nathan came back home to feed her. Not feeding her before we left was apparently our first mistake.

On the ride in, Nathan asked me if I left the sausages on the counter. I told him I did but that I doubted Molly would eat them because they were frozen solid. “If they’re gone we can have brats instead,” I said, not thinking the sausages would actually be gone. That was my second mistake.

Later in the morning Nathan called me at work. “Well, we’re having brats for dinner.”

“No way. She ate them all?”

I told Nathan to check the chaise just in case Molly buried them there like she did the bagels. Nathan laughed. “It would be like her to stow them away until they thaw,” he said.

So far he has yet to find the sausages. Our hope is that if she hasn’t eaten them already, she will dig them up and eat them when they thaw. Things are going to get very unpleasant otherwise.

So how is it that we continually make the same mistake? Maybe we just like telling Molly stories. We have many. Shall I tell you about her sojourn around the neighborhood this morning? Maybe some other time.

I'm not just the hair club president...

2006-03-02T11:00:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago I noticed I’m losing my hair. It’s not just the normal, random strands that come out in the shower. We’re talking drain clogging amounts that would make a Wookie nervous. I’ve been assured by the woman who cuts my hair that this is common. Just to be sure, I googled “losing hair after baby” and found some information here that’s somewhat comforting. I need not worry that in a few weeks I’ll look like this:

Still, my hair is short. I don’t like the thought of losing any of it. Sure, I used to lose a lot when it was long and I abused it with chemicals and curling irons, but the 80s are long gone and I can no longer hide under mile high bangs and poodle perms. Maybe I’m just destined to have a bald spot like Autumn.

Smarty pants

2006-03-01T21:21:00.000-05:00

Lately, when we put a pacifier in her mouth, Autumn will bring her arm around and rest it against her mouth to keep the thing in. Clever girl. Watch out, Mensa!

Why hello, piggies!

2006-03-01T21:17:00.000-05:00

Has Autumn discovered her feet? We'll keep you posted.

The great diaper explosion of 2006

2006-02-28T09:13:00.000-05:00

This morning I woke to the sound of Autumn filling her diaper. I heard it through the nursery monitor; that distinct, wet, farty sound that means two cycles through the washer and lots of pre-treating.

I looked at the alarm clock. It wasn’t quite 5:30. The mommy part of me forced my legs to swing out of the bed to search for my slippers while the tired part of me thought that extra laundry wasn’t all that bad compared to an extra half-hour’s sleep. Of course I couldn’t let Autumn stew in her own juices for a half hour so I did the right thing and went in to check on her.

The diaper wasn’t bad at all, which was surprising. Autumn has been known to produce some beautiful works of art, most of which go up her back and stain her clothes. I think that’s a breast feeding thing. I hear most breast fed babies have loose bowel movements, but that knowledge doesn’t make the task of changing a diaper any more pleasant.

In the beginning, changing a diaper was a bit more stressful than it is now. The first two weeks of Autumn’s life were spent tracking input and output. I was given a chart at the hospital and was told to log how long I was nursing her and how many wet and dirty diapers she was producing. I guess it would be safe to say my first two weeks of being a mother were all about crap. How much crap, what color crap and how often we saw the crap.

At Autumn’s two week appointment, the doctor praised us and told us we were doing everything right. Autumn was no longer jaundiced and she had gained back the weight she lost in the hospital plus some. He also told us filling out the feeding chart was no longer necessary and I happily obliged. Being a parent, though, you never really stop tracking the crap.

I ended up calling the doctor’s office the first time Autumn went more than a day without having a bowel movement. I explained to the nurse that this kid’s usually a pooping machine and that she hadn’t gone in over a day. The nurse patiently listened to me and then suggested a few things to try to get Autumn to go. “If she doesn’t have a bowel movement within the next 24 hours, call us back.”

About five minutes after I hung up the phone, Autumn let go with the “grunt and squish” I now know so well. Relieved, I swept her into her room and placed her on the changing table. I must admit a gasp of horror escaped as I pulled back the diaper. Later on, I called Nathan to describe what I had seen. “It looked like a whole jar of Grey Poupon exploded in her pants!” I said.

Now such sights are commonplace and I’ve pretty much accepted my role in the circle of crap. I do laundry twice a week, most often running a few things through more than once in order to remove the stains. I’m so glad I never pay full price for anything I buy the girl.

The good thing about getting up early this morning was that I was able to spend some quality time with my daughter. After she ate, we sat quietly in the rocker together. I held her against my chest as she slept, tipped my head back and enjoyed every minute. When the time came to get her ready, I set her on the changing table and selected an outfit for her to wear for the day. After dressing her, I held her for about a minute before she puked all over the both of us. Yep, I’ll be doing laundry tonight.

The Raymond Inqusition

2006-02-27T11:35:00.000-05:00

Nathan and I spent a good part of the weekend with Ryan and Marla. Ryan was yet again kind enough to help us install a ceiling fan, this time in our bedroom. He brought Marla and the boys over and the seven of us headed over to our favorite Chinese buffet after the fan was installed.

Now that Autumn is three months old, I’m pretty comfortable nursing her in front of others. I’m always discreet about it and will always ask if someone isn’t comfortable with me doing it in their presence. It’s not like I just plop my boob out and let Autumn go to town. I do cover up with a blanket and show very little skin while Autumn’s latched on. The process has gotten trickier since Autumn has started grabbing things. She doesn’t like to be covered and tends to try to bat the blanket away before I’ve sufficiently covered up.

The first time I nursed Autumn at Ryan and Marla’s, I expected some questions from three-year-old Raymond. Since Marla feeds Conner formula, I was sure Raymond would be curious as to what exactly I was doing when I ducked my head under the blanket to get Autumn latched on. Only after Autumn was well into her feeding did Raymond look at her and ask, “What’s the baby doing?” I told him she was eating. “Why is she eating?” he asked. “Because she’s hungry,” I said. And that was that.

After the buffet on Saturday, we headed back to Ryan and Marla’s to watch Wallace and Grommit in The Curse of the Were Rabbit. Autumn was getting hungry so I started nursing her as soon as we sat down. Raymond was sitting next to me and took notice. Again, he asked what the baby was doing. When I told him she was eating, he reached over as if to pull back the portion of my sweater covering Autumn’s nose. “Oops, don’t touch,” I said and he pulled his hand back. His attention was soon turned back to Wallace and Grommit and there were no more questions after that.

The next day the seven of us met at Cracker Barrell for lunch. I noticed a young lady with a newborn at the next table and pointed her out to Marla. The two of us watched a few minutes later as the woman draped a blanket over her shoulder and started to nurse the baby. “You know I expected more questions out of Raymond last night,” I said. “I would think he would at least want to know why Conner eats out of a bottle but Autumn doesn’t.”

“He must not have made that connection yet,” she said.

While I’m comfortable answering questions and want Raymond to feel free asking them, I just know that when the time comes to explain breastfeeding to him, there’s going to be a cow reference in there somewhere.

Moo.

A weekend pictorial

2006-02-26T18:27:00.000-05:00

A smile for Daddy. Look, I lost my hand!

This is my serious face.

Nap time.

Marla and Conner.

Raymond. Every bit the (almost) 4-year old.

Molly. This is her "treat getting" face.

All ready to go to out.

Sleeping in with Daddy on Sunday morning.

Thou shalt not kill

2006-02-24T09:20:00.000-05:00

This morning Autumn woke at 4:30 am crying. I went in to check on her and found her with one leg sticking through the slats of her crib. I picked her up, soothed her and decided to nurse her as long as we were both up.

While we were in the rocking chair, Molly entered the room, sat in front of us and stared. I sighed. “Do you have to go potty?” I asked.

She shook as though a jolt of electricity had just passed through her, which is her way of saying, “Yes, Mom, I have to pee.”

I sighed again. “Go tell Daddy.”

Molly left the room only to return a couple of minutes later in the same state she was before.

“Go tell Daddy,” I said, this time a little louder so that Nathan might hear me through the nursery monitor and get his sorry ass out of bed to let his dog out.

Again she left and again she returned. By that time Autumn was done eating and I had her on the changing table. I was through playing this game. Why should Nathan be the only one in house getting some sleep?

“Nathan! Molly needs to go out!”

Let me explain that Nathan’s way of taking care of Molly is to invite her into bed with him so that she gets comfortable and forgets how much she has to pee. Of course I was wise to this and told Nathan I was coming right back to bed and that Molly was going to have to move out of my spot.

“I’ll let her out when you get back in bed,” he said.

So what happens when I return to bed? I kick Molly out of my spot and Nathan invites her back into the bed on his side.

Ok. I was getting a little steamed. “Aren’t you going to let her out?” I asked.

“She doesn’t need to pee,” he said. “She just wants to go out and play.”

I sat up, looked at the dog and asked, “Molly do you have to pee pee?” As soon as the words were out, she hopped back onto the floor. “See, she does have to go,” I said.

Nathan threw back the covers, and as he stormed out of the bedroom said, “You could let her out once in awhile, too, you know.”

Oh no he didn’t

“Excuse me?” I said. “Who gets up with your daughter and feeds her and gets her dressed EVERY SINGLE MORNING?” Not to mention I had just spent the last half hour nursing the girl with Molly doing the pee pee dance four feet in front of me. You know it’s pretty bad when the dog thinks the woman with the child attached to her chest is more reliable than the lump under the covers in the next room.

Nathan didn’t say a word to me when he returned. I tried to get back to sleep, but my mind couldn’t rest. I had decided to nurse Autumn knowing full well that I would be the one getting up with her at all times. I accepted that and Nathan, I thought, appreciated that as well. We’d be alternating feedings if she were getting formula and Nathan would be spending many early mornings sitting in that rocking chair instead of me. However, since I was nursing, his job was to take care of Molly in the morning. That had been our arrangement.

Later, at 5:45 am, Nathan's alarm went off. “That thing better not keep going off for the next 45 minutes,” I said. Yeah, I was still pissed.

Nathan tried to apologize when he finally got up at quarter to seven, but by that time I was full into the silent treatment. He hates that. If it were me, I’d prefer the silent treatment to me yelling because I can get loud, but not Nathan. He must think he can better gauge his chances of survival by the tone and volume of my voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I said that,” he said. “I was tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” I should probably add that Nathan has been sleeping with the aid of a CPAP machine in an effort to curb his snoring and sleep apnea. He has to wear a mask that makes him look like Darth Vader and it’s been hard for him to get used to.

I broke the silence by saying, “I think what you said calls for an apology with flowers.”

“Am I that far in the dog house?” he asked.

After that we sort of made up. I told him to forget the flowers because if I have to tell him to get me flowers then the sentiment is lost.

Of course the good thing about all of this is that I have one beauty of an entry for today. He really should know better than piss of a woman who likes to write.

Inconceivable

2006-02-23T09:13:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was very tired. It was the kind of tired that isn’t remedied by multiple cups of coffee or caffeinated sodas. It was the kind of tired that I hadn’t felt since my first trimester last year. Of course as soon as that thought popped into my head I couldn’t get it out. No matter how much I thought how impossible it would be, I kept thinking “what if it is?” I remembered seeing a pregnancy test in one of the bathroom drawers and decided I’d take it when I got home so I could put my mind at ease.

So I took the test, and as I was waiting for the results it occurred to me that what I was holding wasn’t a pregnancy test but an ovulation test. Cripes. It’s really time to clean out the bathroom drawers. By that time I had a bug up my butt to see this thing through, so after picking up a meal of Swiss steak and mashed potatoes at my grandma’s, I stopped by D&W and spent nearly $9 on a single pregnancy test.

It was negative, so it would seem that I am just wiped out. The transition back to work must have been harder than even I realized. I’ve been getting up at 6am every morning but haven’t been getting to bed before 11pm, sometimes midnight. Last night I took a nice, hot bath, fed Autumn for the last time at 9pm and was in bed by quarter after ten. Of course Autumn decided to wake at 5am so I really didn’t get much more sleep. I am, however, not feeling as achy and exhausted as I was yesterday.

During the few hours yesterday afternoon when I was considering I might be pregnant again, I thought how another baby would impact our lives. Before Autumn was born, Nathan and I were convinced she was going to be our only child. It had taken us nearly eight years to even decide we wanted one, so the possibility of having two seemed outrageous. When I was around 8 months pregnant I started thinking about the possibility of doing it again. My pregnancy was easy and uneventful and the baby was, so far, healthy. It wasn’t until Autumn was about six weeks old that I decided I really did want to do this again, but only when the time was right. I think Nathan’s on the fence with this. He’s still adjusting to being a dad, but he did agree that a few things needed to happen before we could consider having another kid, the most important of which was that I had to lose a lot of weight. Ouch.

While I am back at Weight Watchers, I have to admit that I’ve not been a very faithful member. Planning meals and logging what I’ve been eating has seemed to be more work than it’s worth. If yesterday was any indication though, my body is trying to tell me something. I think it’s starting to wave the white flag, saying, “Okay, I got you through this whole baby thing now give me a break, will you?” My knees are hurting more frequently and I dread going up and down the stairs. A main floor laundry is looking like a mighty fine amenity right now.

If not for the possibility of having another baby, I do need to get healthy for the one I have. Autumn will be walking before I know it. After that, she’ll be running and I’ll have to be able to catch up.

Feminista

2006-02-22T08:44:00.000-05:00

But that doesn't mean you can't still pay me a compliment!

Sniffles

2006-02-20T13:14:00.000-05:00

Autumn is becoming more and more vocal. My favorite part of spending time with her is when we are able to have "conversations." Her end mostly consists of a little mumbling and a lot of squealing, but you can tell she has something she wants to say but just isn't able to form the words. Most of the time I pretend to know what she's saying and respond with "Is that so?" or "you don't say?" Most of our best talks are when she's on the changing table. For some reason the girl just loves to be undressed. I'll narrate as I take each item of clothing off. "Here go your socks, and now your pants. Oops, you have a heavy diaper. Lots of pee pee in there, huh?" It's all pretty ridiculous when you think about it, but apparently this is how children learn to converse.

Lately at night, through the nursery monitor, I've heard Autumn talking to herself. Who knows what's going through that little mind of hers? Is she talking to the bugs in the mobile above her head or the shadows her nightlight creates on the bedroom wall? It could be that she's just talking to herself for lack of anything better to do. I've been known to do that, especially when I'm alone in the car.

Along with the nighttime babbling has come the sniffing, snorting and sneezing. Autumn is in the middle of her first cold. She's been in good spirits, but her stuffy nose has caused some rather unpleasant encounters with the saline drops and the nasal aspirator. Since she can't blow her own nose, Nathan and I have to resort to this torturous method to clear her nasal passages. I call it "hoovering out the boogers." Autumn hates the process and the whole ordeal leaves her pissed as hell. Nathan holds her head and one arm while I hold the other arm and try to squeeze two drops into each nostril per the directions on the bottle. The makers of this fine product must not have had an actual, conscious child to test on because most of the time I can't even get the bottle tip into Autumn's nose much less get two drops out.

The worst part is squeezing the nasal aspirator, sticking it up one nostril and then the other, each time hoping to pull out whatever is clogging up the pipes. The problem with this method is that whatever we're successful in retrieving usually gets sucked back in because Autumn is screaming and breathing so hard. We have to be quick with the tissues as soon as we've hit the booger jackpot lest we have to go another round with the aspirator.

Afterwards, I hold my angry and tearful daughter and tell her that everything will be okay. I rock her back and forth and stroke her head, but can't help but feel that she would like to get as far away from me as possible. I am, after all, the person who just stuck things up her nose. I swear things will be so much easier when the girl can hold a tissue.

Picture Day

2006-02-18T21:14:00.000-05:00

Autumn supports our Olympians!

We took Autumn in for her first professional photos today. We decided on Sadie's because it was our first time and we wanted to do something a little out of the ordinary. Our appointment was at 11am. Autumn had been awake and happy up to the point we put her in the car. We only live about 5 miles from the studio, but by the time we rolled into the parking lot she was out cold.

So we get there and spend the first few minutes trying to wake the girl up. We took her out of the carseat and talked to her. Snore. The girls in the studio squealed in high pitched voices and pinched her cheeks. Yawn. We shook her arms and laughed, handed her to her daddy who bounced her in his arms and still nothing. It was all very much like trying to revive a drunk who has passed out on the street.

Needless to day, the first few shots they took of Autumn were sleeping poses. Eventually she came to and opened her eyes, but the next challenge turned out to be getting her to smile. The photographer tickled her feet with a feather duster. Nathan and I sported Joker-like smiles until our cheeks seized up and we all made noises that we hoped would get the girl to turn up the corners of her mouth. No luck. I have the same problem when I take pictures of her at home.

The Sadie's brochure said we could bring an outfit change and since we had reserved a room with lots of stuffed animals, I wanted to do something special. Last summer I bought this adorable bunny coat for Autumn to wear at Easter this year and thought wouldn't it be cute to pose her in the coat amongst all the stuffed toys? One thing the folks at Sadie's failed to tell us was that the sitting was only scheduled for a half-hour period and that someone else was expecting to use the room at 11:30. While we were able to get in a few bunny shots, none were with the stuffed toys since so much time had been spent trying to catch the elusive smile.

The pictures turned out nice and we were able to pick up our prints after a trip to Panera Bread and Younkers. As cute as the shots are, I think next time we'll try a place that's a little less expensive. Hopefully by that time Autumn will be able to smile on cue.

Loud and Clear

2006-02-17T12:56:00.000-05:00

Last night Nathan and I went to Red Lobster after work. We dropped our stuff off at home and didn't even take Autumn out of the car seat before heading off to the restaurant. I had let Molly out to do her business when I got home. She likes to play catch with the frisbee and often times won't stop barking until we give it a toss. Yesterday was miserably cold and rainy and I ordered Molly back inside before she could get the first bark out.

After we returned home, I went into Autumn's room to deposit her car seat. As soon as I turned on the light I could tell something was wrong. The afghan my mother made was in a heap in the middle of the room as was one of Autumn's quilts. Both had been folded up on the floor next to the crib. The dragonfly rug was turned over as well. It looked as though someone had been looking for something.

Then I noticed the big wet spot next to the crib.

I walked over, touched the carpet and sniffed my hand. It didn't really smell like urine. There was an empty water bottle that I thought may have caused the stain, but the cap was screwed on tight. I picked up the afghan and sniffed it. Oh yeah. That smelled like urine.

Instead of being angry, I felt horrible. Had I ordered Molly back into the house too soon? Did she not get a chance to pee first? Of course I think it's no coincidence that she chose Autumn's room as the place to go. The way the room look afterwards, I imagined her in an angry frenzy thinking, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!" Two stuffed toys have also suffered as a consequence. Apparently they were also in her line of fire.

I keep telling myself that things will bet better once the weather gets warmer. We'll be able to take more walks with both Molly and Autumn. I think Molly needs a little TLC pretty quick though. She's sent us a message that she's not very happy right now.

Conceptionalization

2006-02-16T09:34:00.000-05:00

One thing that came up during dinner the other night with my parents was that at this time last year I had just become pregnant but didn’t know yet. If those handy internet conception calculators are true, Autumn was conceived on or around February 13th. I’ll have to take their word for it because I honestly can’t remember.

“This time last year Autumn was just a zygote,” I said. That got me thinking. A year ago, being a mother was such a foreign concept to me. Being a parent seemed so horribly frightening because I’m a planner. With kids you never know what’s going to happen.

So, in honor of the anniversary of the beginning of Autumn’s existence and her three month birthday, I’ve decided to resurrect a post from an old blog of mine. It details the first time Nathan and I watched Ryan and Marla’s son Raymond for an evening.

Raymond
August 21, 2004

My husband Nathan and I looked after our friends' two-year old son last night while they attended a Friday evening wedding. I consider this a huge step forward. I haven't looked after a child since I was in high school. Nathan and I have never looked after a child together.

When Marla first approached Nathan with the babysitting gig, he mistakenly thought she was asking him if we'd be willing to watch their German Shorthair, Riley, for the evening.

"I think Riley can take care of himself, Nathan. We'd like you to watch Ray."

Oh.

I have to admit to being a little nervous about watching Ray. Nathan has three nephews and one niece, all of whom live an hour away. Up until recently, we never had sufficient room for them to stay the night and we just weren't close enough for short-term babysitting assignments. After being together for nine years, we knew each other's likes and dislikes but had no idea on how to make a child happy.

"What do you do with a two year old?" I asked Brenda, a co-worker. We were out at a local restaurant with the rest of the work crew celebrating Courtney's last day in our office. Through some scheduling snafu Brenda showed up with her 16 month-old son, Jaime. "I don't know," she said, "I don't have a two year old." I looked at Jaime who was happily playing with Courtney's keys, his attention focused on the university keychain each of us had received a few days earlier. I had given my keychain to Nathan and didn't think I'd have much success wrangling it away from him. He thought it was pretty cool, too.

About 7:00pm Marla arrived with her husband Ryan and sister Melissa. Our dog Molly absolutely loves company and ran down to the door to greet the guests. I could hear Ray's little feet on the concrete as he bounded towards the door. "Hi Molly!" he shouted.

Melissa made it a point to inform us that Ray already had a "stinky poopy" and shouldn't have another one. Isn't it funny how people become comfortable talking about these things when a child is involved? You never hear many adults talk about their bathroom habits, that is unless you're talking to my grandmother. Grandma doesn't use the words "stinky poopy" though.

After Marla, Ryan and Melissa left we took Ray for a walk around the block. He spotted a cat in someone's driveway and let out a roar. "Rawr!" he growled. Nathan thought it was hilarious. "You so want a boy, don't you?" I asked. "Yes, I do," he replied.

When we got back home, Ray made a beeline for the X-Box. He can't play anything yet but loves to hold the controller in his hands while someone else plays. "No, Ray," Nathan said, "were going to watch a movie." We put in Beauty and the Beast and Ray was content to sit on the couch and watch, all the while pushing the buttons on the X-Box controller still in his hands. He growled at the Beast and let out a big "wow" during the scene where the Beast reveals the library to Belle. I thought, "alright, the kid loves books!" His mom will be so proud, English major that she is.

I really didn't want the movie to end, not because Ray was being so good, but because I knew I'd be obligated to check his diaper. I wasn't sure what I was going to find in spite of Melissa's reassurances, and was not going to send the boy home to his mother with wet drawers.

He was pretty good about the whole thing, though he did try to lock his knees together, a stunt he apparently pulls on his parents as well. "C'mon work with me," I said as Nathan sat on the couch calmly observing. I finally was able to get the diaper on and get the pants back on shortly before his parents came back.

I told Marla she'd have to give me a report card on the diaper job. Melissa said, "This was a piece of cake. Just wait until next time."

"Is that a threat?" I asked. "Next time are you going to feed him fruit all day?"

They just laughed and didn't really answer the question.

The Fourteenth of February

2006-02-15T13:08:00.000-05:00

This thing ROCKS!

My mom called me at work yesterday, and in that breathy, excited tone only she can manage, exclaimed, “Happy Valentines Day!”

Before I continue, let me explain that no one in my family ever gets that jazzed about Valentines Day. My parents are practical people. My brother and I are really the only proof that they have, in fact, indulged in a romantic rendezvous or two. Lest you think I exaggerate, let me also explain that my father has been known to give free car wash coupons to my mother as an anniversary gift.

So after the effusive V-Day greeting, my mother said, “Guess what? I have a surprise for you. You’re coming here for dinner tonight and guess what I’m making?”

“Oooh. Spaghetti?” I asked, mentally salivating at the thought. My mother’s spaghetti sauce is the best and the last time she made it for us Autumn was just a few days old.

“Yes, you’re coming here for spaghetti” she said, “and I bought the really good garlic toast.”

Well, bonus. That’s the great thing about grandparents. Any day they get to see the baby is a holiday for them, and any day I don’t have to cook or clean up is a holiday for me. Add the really good garlic toast and it’s Christmas all over again.

The evening was nice. Grandma D. was there and after dinner handed us a card and a small ring box. Inside was the tiniest gold band I had ever seen. I looked at Nathan and said, “She went to Jared!” The reference was totally lost on my grandma. She either must not watch as much TV as I do or doesn’t watch the channels that have been airing those stupid commercials since the beginning of February.

The ring doesn’t quite fit yet. I tried slipping it over Autumn’s index finger but it was too big. I imagine that when it does fit she’ll only be wearing it on special occasions such as holidays and photo shoots. I’m not really keen on the thought of someday digging through the contents of a messy diaper for it.

My parents ended up giving Autumn a gift that was a little more practical (there’s that word again); 25 jars of baby food and two stuffed toys. We stayed and chatted for awhile. Once Nathan started nodding off next to me on the couch, we decided to pack everything up and head home. These days we’re usually leaving with more stuff than we came with.

We spent the rest of our evening watching the four episodes of Arrested Development we missed Friday night. God I’m going to miss that show. Autumn spent some quality time in her Jumperoo. Her feet can just touch the ground now. She had a blast in that thing. At first she wasn’t quite sure what to do, but then she noticed the brightly-colored toys and started to enjoy the buoyancy of it. Once in awhile she’d spasm in delight and squeal, but there wasn’t much jumping involved. She’s still a little young for that.

On a final note, Nathan ended up giving me a small pot of tiny roses for V-Day. It was a surprise, and I suspect, an attempt to lighten the sullen mood I’ve been in since I returned to work. He also bought me a pack of orange Tic-Tacs. What a guy.

Pizz-am!

2006-02-13T21:33:00.000-05:00

Nathan bought some pizzelles at the store a couple of nights ago. When I came home today, I found what was left of the package torn to bits on the floor. I told Nathan "someone" had eaten the rest of the cookies and he must have forgotten to put them up before he left this morning.

"I put them on top of the fridge, I swear," he said.

We both looked up at the fridge and then down at our dog and decided she's in need of an intervention and a 12 step program.

Atta Boy!

2006-02-13T13:44:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Conner’s baptism. Nathan and I were invited to attend the service at Ryan and Marla’s church. It was all very nice and somewhat reminiscent of The Lion King. After anointing Conner, the pastor walked to the end of the stage and held Conner up for the congregation to see. We all stomped our feet to signal our approval and the pastor handed Conner back to his parents before digging into the banana he had stashed in his back pocket.

All joking aside, it was very special and I really respect Ryan and Marla for pledging to pass their faith on to their son. Nathan and I enjoyed the service so much that we’re actually thinking of returning. We’ve not always been church people. Lately, the only time we’re ever in a church together is when someone gets married.

After the service we were invited to Ryan and Marla’s for lunch. They had quite a spread of meats and cheeses and topped the whole thing off with a cake from Costco. I love love LOVE Costco sheet cakes. If I could sustain myself on Costco sheet cakes I would. They are that good. Conner loved the cake, too. He stuck his hand in the thing shortly after Marla sat him down in front of it for a picture. I believe that was his first taste of solid food.

Office Space

2006-02-10T10:42:00.000-05:00

This morning as we were getting ready for work, Nathan said, “Guess what today is.”

I really hate guessing, and since I’m really the keeper of all birthdates, anniversaries and milestones, I had no idea what he was talking about. “Just tell me,” I said.

“It’s my nine year anniversary of working at HMI,” he said. “Nine years. I get my service bonus in my next paycheck.”

Wow. Nine years working for the same company. He’s got me beat.

I’ve been thinking a lot about jobs and careers lately, mostly because of my return to work. I thought I’d come back with a renewed perspective, and for a few days I did look at my job differently. I was convinced that no matter what happened, I wasn’t going to let petty work issues get to me. Then yesterday was one of those days when most of my time was spent on the phone and I realized how little had changed, especially my attitude.

This is only the third job I’ve had since I was 17. I manage to stay put for a good amount of time as long as I’m able to do new things. At Target I moved around a lot, from department to department, from cashier to fitting room and from price change team to working 3rd shift stocking toys during the holidays. At HMI, I worked on one chair line, then another. I spent time training other workers, learned how to drive a hilo and a picker and worked side by side with the guys in the warehouse.

My current job, however, has offered little flexibility and few opportunities for growth. After the training period was over (and it was quite a long training period), I found myself doing the same things over and over again and the job became mundane and unsatisfying.

I was discussing the job with one of my co-workers the other day and mentioned that this October will mark my five-year anniversary in this office. She was floored and I’m sure couldn’t imagine how I’ve managed to stay so long. Of course I think the same thing of another co-worker who’s been here longer than I have. How has she managed to stick it out?

So this co-worker and I are hoping this year will be our year, that we’ll each find a new position that will prove more satisfying. At first I thought that as long as I had Autumn to come home to, it didn’t matter what went on at work. This week, however, I realized that my work life has to be satisfying because I spend more waking hours here than at home. I’ll try not to get too depressed about that.

Of course today in our weekly meeting our supervisor jokingly ordered none of us to get pregnant or think about leaving for the next year and a half. She said she’s going to chain all of us to our desks in order to get us to stay.

I guess I’ll have to invest in a good blowtorch.

No, Heather, that's NOT normal...

2006-02-09T09:52:00.000-05:00

I’ve officially had my first mom-related injury. Tuesday night I was opening a package of baby wipes refills with a pair of scissors. I lost my grip on the wipes and instinctively went to grab them with the hand that was holding the scissors and sliced the flesh between my pinkie and ring finger on my left hand.

It was painful, the kind of pain that makes you want to utter every swear word in the book and make some new ones up as well. It bled a good bit, but once I had that under control I covered it up with some Neosporin and a Band-Aid.

The next morning the area around the cut was bright red and hurt like hell. When I got to work, I showed a few co-workers my injury and asked, “That’s not normal, right?” Even though I knew it wasn’t normal, I had to be reassured that it wasn’t normal. Several people told me I should get it checked out, so after work I tromped off to the med center.

Yep, it’s infected. I’m now on antibiotics. It’s a good thing I only waited 24 hours to get it checked out. I vaguely remember Rosie O’Donnell dealing with a staph infection a few years ago after cutting herself. I guess she had to have surgery and they nearly amputated her hand. Yikes.

The down side, some may think, is that the antibiotics reduce the effectiveness of birth control by 10%. When I told Nathan this, he opened up his arms and said, “Let’s make a baby! I want a son.”

Men. They’ll say anything to get into your pants.

...and to the left.

2006-02-08T13:19:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by Heather N..

And here's the other side. I was able to keep it so clean before I left. Of course back then I wasn't sure if I was going to be coming back the next day.

Wow, I own a lot of mugs.

Look to the right...

2006-02-08T13:00:00.000-05:00

Originally uploaded by Heather N..

This is what my desk looks like now. I just love being back.

It looks like Abu the monkey has either keeled over or is playing dead. He just doesn't want to help me clean up. Slacker.

Lactation Frustration

2006-02-07T19:30:00.000-05:00

My return to work was pretty uneventful. I logged in to my computer, read my emails and took some calls. It was all pretty much as I had left it and I had no problem getting back into the swing of things after being gone for almost three months. My supervisor even came out to see how I was doing, but I suspect I'll not be as interesting to her now that I'm not a potential emergency waiting to happen.

I kept telling everyone I was fine. Autumn had already been in daycare a few times so leaving her wasn't an issue. I didn't cry and looked at her pictures on my desk with a sense of longing that wasn't at all painful.

Then I got home.

Carol hadn't yet gotten the third bottle to Autumn so I decided to nurse her. As soon as I got her into position she started to scream. She wanted nothing to do with me. I tried and tried and she just wouldn't nurse.

This has been an ongoing problem for us this past week. Sometimes she'll nurse and sometimes she won't. Sometimes she'll take one side but not the other. Plus she's stopped sleeping through the night. She woke me up early Monday morning at 2 am. That's okay. I wasn't sleeping anyway.

I called the lactation "warmline" at the hospital and left a message. I thought it might be a nursing strike. I was tired, frustrated and feeling miserable. I cried and cried, convinced this was the beginning of the end of the beautiful nursing relationship I'd established with my daughter.

So this morning I called in sick to work. I was trying to fight off a cold that was getting worse from lack of sleep. A lactation consultant called about 9am and said we should take Autumn to the doctor to rule any physical reasons for the nursing issues. "If she checks out okay then she just might be a little mad at you for going back to work," she said.

Great. Just what I wanted to hear.

After a little more discussion, the lc assured me that once our routine is established, Autumn should get back into the groove of things. She might, however, continue to wake for a feeding in the wee hours of the morning to make up for the mommy time she'll no longer get during the day.

All day today I struggled with being depressed about having to go back to work. I never thought it would be this painful. I felt like a horrible mother for working full time. I felt like a horrible mother for staying home today and disrupting Autumn's routine.

The doctor appointment proved uneventful. Autumn charmed the nurse and was thrilled (as always) to have her clothes taken off. She was fine though. She wasn't getting a cold, didn't have a fever or any ailments that the doctor could see. So I guess she's pissed at me. I'm sure it won't be the last time.

The good news is today she mostly nursed without a problem. We did have an issue this afternoon but I calmed her and it's been smooth sailing since.

Game Day

2006-02-05T19:20:00.000-05:00

I can't belive I posted and didn't mention today's big event...

PUPPY BOWL II

I'm putting my money on Mickey. She (or he) reminds me of Molly when she was a pup.

There have already been some fouls called on a few miscreants who've soiled the playing field. Apparently the FCC hasn't cracked down on Animal Planet yet.

At halftime they're bringing out the cats for the "Bissel Kitty Halftime Show."

Ah, I see they've called in the Spot Bot.

Sunday (a.k.a. Laundry Day)

2006-02-05T17:37:00.000-05:00

Autumn in her 6 month size jammies

Autumn went to her first church service this morning. I was running late and ended up taking her into the sanctuary still in her carseat. I looked around and noticed most everyone else had stowed their infants away in the nursery, and those who did have small children had obviously arrived early enough to leave the carseat behind.

Autumn was well behaved though. She fell asleep after a few gurgles, a couple of coos and a sneeze. As soon as we hit the benediction though, her eyes were open and it was showtime. As we headed out of the sanctuary, one lady stopped me and asked, "What did you give that baby? She was soooo good!" My mom said, "You should have told her it was the breastmilk." Once we had cleared the crowd I pulled Autumn out of the carseat and let my dad hold her long enough to show her off to Pastor Cecil.

After I got home, I started some laundry and have pretty much spent the whole day washing clothes. I usually try to do a few loads on Wednesday so that I'm not spending all day Sunday loading the washer, but for some reason today we had mountains of dirty clothes. I guess it doesn't help when Autumn goes through two outfits in a day. I think her diapers are too small because she keeps having "blow outs" that go up her back and stain her clothes. She had two of those today. After the second time Nathan said, "Just put her in her pajamas." I think it's almost time to bump her up to the size 2 Pampers, but I have at least 60 size 1 diapers I'd like to get through first.

Along with growing out of her diapers, Autumn is growing out of her 0-3 month size clothes. During the past week or so I've noticed her onsies and bodysuits are harder to snap at the bottom and she's just about maxed out on wiggle room in her pajamas. She has enough of the next size up that I was able to weed out most of the smaller stuff, but the process was bittersweet. Some things I didn't want to put away.

Well, tomorrow is the big day. Back to work. My co-workers keep telling me they can't wait for my return. They've been very busy. At first I said I was glad to be coming back, but now...not so much. I'd really rather stay home with Autumn. There's a part of me that says my going to work is better all the way around because I'm making money and Autumn is making friends at daycare. She'll be a better socialized child from the experience. Well, these are the things I'm telling myself. Whether or not I'm believing them is another thing altogether.

On a final note, I've enabled the comments function so that readers can add their thoughts if they so desire. I disabled the function when I started this blog because I noticed my older blogs' comments weren't comments so much as spam. So, feel free to leave a note. If you leave spam, however, your entry will be deleted posthaste. That's fancy talk for pretty damn quick.

I have my mother's nose

2006-02-04T12:52:00.000-05:00

I found this pic when I was cleaning up. It was on a backup CD Nathan made for me a couple of years ago. I can't remember why I scanned it, but here it is:

Fast forward a few decades and we have this:

When I was a kid everyone used to tell me how much I looked like my mom. I never saw it until I was a teenager. Looking a these two photos now I can really see it.

Sing Along

2006-02-03T19:52:00.001-05:00

Earlier I had one of those moments when I realized there's more to this transition into the "mother subculture" than changing a diaper in under 60 seconds and learning how to do everything one-handed while carrying a child (I mastered that one last night at Gymboree, by the way). Autumn was tired and cranky and the swing wasn't soothing her, so I took her into my arms and sang "Part of That World" from The Little Mermaid. I know that song by heart because I used to babysit for a little girl who insisted on watching that movie and Grease 2 every time I watched her.

As soon as I finished the song I could tell Autumn was just about to fall asleep so I launched into "Kiss the Girl." I got about halfway through the song and my mind went blank. I couldn't remember the lyrics so I started faking it. "Fa la la la la blah blah blah, look at the boy blah blah he want to kiss the girl..." Luckily Autumn fell asleep before I had to stumble through something from Aladdin or The Lion King.

Later in the evening I decided to listen to some music and put on Madonna's "True Blue." I explained to Autumn that "True Blue" was the first Madonna album I ever bought and happily sang to "Papa Don't Preach" and "Open Your Heart." Never once did I miss a beat as I shook my behind and waved my hands in the air while my daughter looked on. She smiled a bit but mostly sucked on her hand while I re-lived my teenage years through the tunes of one of the trashiest pop stars in American music history.

When the CD ended, Autumn got a little cranky. I was in another room and heard Nathan ask her what was wrong.

"She wants more Madonna" I said. Nathan put in a collection of Madonna ballads and the girl fell right to sleep.

I'm sure at some point I'm going to have to add some more age appropriate songs to my repetoire. I do have most of the opening theme to "Sponge Bob Square Pants" down. That's a start, right?

Molly's new collar

2006-02-03T17:07:00.000-05:00

Nathan and I bought Molly a new collar at Old Navy last night. It seems I am now the only member of the family who can't find something from that store that fits. Anyway, we think it's a very lovely collar and deserves recognition here.

In case you can't tell, those are yellow flowers. Her purple collar was in great shape, but I'm ready for spring and this seemed to be a very spring-y sort of collar. It's feminine too. It's always rather insulting when someone refers to your female dog as "he" and Nathan has always wanted something for Molly that says "I'm a girl!"

Old Navy also had plastic chew toys in the shape of giant cupcakes, but we thought it best not to encourage her to chew more baked goods, even if they are fake.

Hallelujah!

2006-02-03T10:14:00.000-05:00

(Insert chorus here)

Autumn is sleeping through the night. Last night it was eight hours, the night before, seven. This couldn't happen at a better time as I'm going back to work on Monday. This morning I actually had to wake Autumn up for her morning feeding. It's hard to believe that we're at this point already. Sleep deprivation was one of my biggest fears about being a mother, but Autumn has proven to be a low maintenance child. I've been very lucky.

My dad called last night and invited us to the mall for a stroll and offered to buy me lunch. He wanted to do something special as this is my last day of maternity leave. I have a sneaking suspicion that the invitation was really for Autumn and that I've been invited to tag along as the girl's chaperone. In honor of the occasion, I've dressed Autumn in something that should be pretty special to her grandpa:

Grandpa graduated from Grand Valley, too.

Do I have to go back to work?

2006-01-31T22:08:00.000-05:00

I only have three more days left of my maternity leave. Autumn spent all day at daycare today and will again on Thursday. I'm not sure how I feel about the woman I have watching her. Of course no one is going to care for her as well as I do, but I'm just not prepared for someone else to watch her all day.

We're still ironing out the kinks with feeding. Unfortunately our provider has never worked with a breastfeeding mother before. I was surprised when she told me that. I would have expected a few nursing moms to have crossed her path now and again. Nathan picked Autumn up today and the provider, Carol, told him she thought Autumn had diarrhea. Autumn has had some rather explosive diapers lately and I don't think Carol is used to the look and consistency of breastfed baby poop. Well, now she knows.

The thing that concerns me most is that I've been sending the number of bottles I expect Carol to feed Autumn throughout the day. Last week Autumn spent two days with Carol, six hours each day. I left two bottles and told Carol when Autumn last fed, but both days I picked her up to find out she had only been fed one.

Today I sent three bottles but she was only fed two. I talked to the pediatrician's office and was told she needs to get at least 24 oz of milk each day. That means if she's only getting 8 oz at daycare then I'm left to try to get in 16 oz in the short time I'm with her and also means she will probably get me up in the middle of the night.

Nathan told me to give it time. After all this was Autumn's first full day with Carol and they both may need to work out some kind of schedule. He said we may have to re-evaluate our daycare choice if Carol continues to only feed Autumn the two bottles.

I think I'm just going to have to ask Carol what obstacles she's been facing in getting in all three bottles. Since she's used to formula fed babies, she may not realize that breastfed babies actually need to feed more. We'll see what happens.

In other news, I went to campus today for our union contract ratification meeting. It was very boring and made me wish I'd brought a pillow, but the good news is I'll finally be getting my raise. It's about time. I'm going to need that money. It's going to Carol.

New Things

2006-01-29T22:53:00.000-05:00

I revamped the blog. I just got so sick of the pink. I think this looks much better. It's definitely easier on the eyes. I also created a Flickr account to store my many photos. I was uploading pics to Winkflash, but Flickr is more slick and has better storage capabilities. I was able to make a badge with tiny thumbnails of pics I've taken of Autumn and stuck it below. Just click on it and it will take you to my albums.

Autumn is trying to sit up. It's so cute to see. She'll be cradled in our arms and all of the sudden she'll lift up her head and feet at the same time like she's doing crunches. She nearly tipped herself out of my brother's lap tonight. He kept having to push her back against his arm so that she wouldn't topple onto the floor.

It's amazing how much Autumn has changed in just the past couple of weeks. She's found her hands and is constantly bringing them together. Last night after nursing her, I held her and watched while she ran her hand back and forth over my ribbed shirt as though she was feeling its texture. She's going to bed much easier at night and will occasionally (but not consistently) sleep all night through.

I'm really loving this.

Some unsettling questions

2006-01-27T23:31:00.000-05:00

I made the mistake of watching CNN tonight. The top story was of Neil Entwistle and his murdered wife and baby daughter. This was the first I had heard of this and was horrified to find out their daughter Lillian was only 9 months old. Nine months old and she was shot to death.

All I could think of was who could be so cold as to murder a baby like that? How could someone face that child and pull the trigger? I visited the family's website and looked at all their photos. She was such a beautiful, happy baby.

Later, Larry King talked to a mother whose boyfriend killed her two year-old son, was arrested, tried and acquitted of the murder only to later confess to the crime. He repeatedly slammed the little boy into the floor to get him to stop crying, but the jury found him not guilty because the mother was a star witness for the defense. She didn't believe he did it and the jury believed her.

Who uses violence to calm a crying baby?

No more CNN for me.

Bagels and Swoosh

2006-01-23T10:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday we went out for lunch with my parents. Before we left, Nathan set 2 packs of bagels on the counter to take downstairs to our freezer. As soon as I walked in the door when we returned I realized we had forgotten about the bagels. Sure enough, a pack of plain bagels was gone. All that remained was strips of the plastic bag.

I realize this was in part our fault because we left the food on the counter, but the day before we came home to find what had been a half full bag of cheese curls sitting on the floor, now empty save for a few crumbs. I swear that bag had been on top of the fridge when we left. Molly is either getting bolder or luckier. I hate to think that she's resorting to ramming the fridge in order to get the goodies to rain down on her.

After finding the bagels gone, I said Molly shouldn't get any dinner. Nathan was horrified. "She'll starve," he said.

"She's not going to starve," I said. "She just ate five huge bagels!"

We went back and forth like this with me saying Molly had eaten enough for the day and Nathan saying she should still get dinner. "If she had already eaten her dog food for the day would you feed her five whole bagels as a snack?" I asked.

Since this behavior is escalating, Nathan and I are considering confining Molly to the basement while we're gone. It doesn't seem to matter how clean we try to keep the kitchen. She always finds something to get into every time she's left alone. Along with eating the cheese curls, she pried the lid off the Lysol kitchen wipes just to see if there was anything edible inside. Last week she chewed the lid off some protein powder I had set out to throw away.

I'm worried that she might eat something some day that could hurt her but am also worried that confining her will make her act out even more. It is getting very exasperating to come home to find our bread and buns missing and we aren't very good at remembering to put everything away. The worst incident by far involved a recent emptying of the Diaper Genie and a forgetful mother failing to bring the bag out to the trash bin before leaving. Do I need to continue?

On the lighter side, Nathan did find three of the five missing bagels later when he was downstairs. Apparently Molly had buried the rest of the bag in the chaise lounge. They were big bagels. She must have been saving them for later.

In other news, one of the things we did while we were out yesterday was a little shopping. I know Autumn doesn't really need anything else, but I couldn't resist buying her this cute ensemble:

We're not huge Michigan fans. Nathan mostly favors them because his best friend Ryan favors State. It was on clearance for less than ten bucks and I couldn't resist. Plus, check this out:

It's the Nike swoosh!

Can you say swoosh?

Puppy Love

2006-01-14T11:12:00.000-05:00

Molly and Autumn hangin' out on the couch

Late last summer when I was still pregnant I told one of my friends that I couldn't imagine loving a being more than I love my dog. Ever since we've had her, we've treated Molly like she was our child. Even before Autumn, I was Mommy and Nathan was Daddy. We were those sickening people who talked to our dogs in baby voices and spoiled her with trips through Wendy's drive through window for a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger.

We knew having a child would be an adjustment for all, but we were particularly interested in how Molly would react. Would she run away when the baby cried? Would she become protective of the baby? Would she poop in the baby's room out of rebellion? None of these things have happened. Molly is still Molly. She hasn't changed at all. Unfortunately for her, our behavior towards her has changed.

Don't get me wrong, we still frequent Wendy's for the occasional Junior Bacon, but we aren't as accommodating as we once were. Gone are the days of tranquil relaxation on the piece of furniture of her choice. Where in the past we would wedge ourselves in whatever available couch space wasn't occupied by dog, we now order Molly to move so that I may have enough room to nurse Autumn. Our games of fetch are less frequent but our irritation with her behavior has increased.

For those of you who know me and have heard my many Molly stories, it won't be a surprise when I say that Molly pulled two whole cooked pork chops off the kitchen counter last weekend and ate them in under two minutes. Nathan had just stepped away from the kitchen for that long, never expecting Molly to be so bold as to pull a stunt like that when we were home. Most of her burglaries occur while we are at work and we come home to torn empty bread bags littering the kitchen floor.

I asked Nathan if he thought this incident was Molly acting out for being so neglected lately. It wasn't out of the ordinary behavior, but it was certainly an escalation of her already irritating bad habit of food theivery. "We need to put her in her place," I said. "She's a dog and she needs to realize that she's a dog. We spoil her to the point that she feels like she's entitled to take whatever she wants." So I issued an edict that there be no more plate licking and excess people food treats in the Noah house.

I feel bad in a way. For all we know, Molly may have no idea that she's not human. Her world has changed so much in these past few weeks, do I really want to take away another thing that makes her happy? After so many years of being treated like a child, is it fair to now start treating her like a dog?

Clean Sweep

2005-12-30T14:30:00.000-05:00

Our Christmas went pretty well. There were some high points and low points as there are any time you get together with family, but all in all we had a pretty good time. Autumn was spoiled rotten, as was expected, and we ate way too much in the process. I've gained a few pounds these past couple of weeks, but I'm sure those few would have brought some friends with them had I not been breast feeding. Apparently my body is burning 1000 extra calories a day, which is pretty scary to think of considering I still gained weight. A bag of Reese's peanut butter cups plus sitting on the couch watching TNT between nursing sessions has not fared well for my bottom line. Damn if I haven't gotten hooked on "Judging Amy" though. That's a good show.

I kept busy taking pictures of Autumn's first holiday, though I didn't pop off as many shots as I thought I would. She mostly slept and ate, so there weren't many photo ops. Here are a few of my favorites.

Hanging with Aunt Joy

Listening intently to Grandma Pam

Getting a bottle from Uncle Sean

Cuddling up with great Uncle Dale

The loot from Grandma Mary and Grandpa Bruce

As you can see from the above picture, Autumn took home quite a haul, which led Nathan and I to wonder where we were going to put everything. She received many books, clothes and toys and our storage options are rather limited. We originally bought our house with the keen notion that it's limited storage areas would force us to limit how much stuff we actually brought in to the house. Little did we realize that bringing a baby into the house would immediately reduce our perception of how much space we actually had.

Our neighbors behind us have 5 children, the youngest of which is about 3 months old. Their house cannot be much larger than ours yet they've managed to fit a family of seven over there. I've never been inside their house, but if the inside is at all similar to the backyard, it's probably a ruin of Fisher Price and Little Tykes with very little space that mom and dad can call their own anymore.

We've seen how toys can overtake a home until you can't walk two steps without bumping into something plastic and coated in primary colors. Part of me wants to keep things looking nice while the other part of me realizes the futility of it all and is ready to wave the white flag as long as I can get a decent toy box sometime in the near future.

Nathan and I spent Christmas night doing a Clean Sweep of our bookshelves. We have a lot of books, probably more than any two people who aren't really collectors have any right to own. I have been trying to whittle my collection down since we've moved in but have only been able to get rid of a few at a time. Many books I've never read but kept with the intent to read them some day. Well, Christmas night I finally realized that whatever little reading I will be doing, it won't be a 1400 page historical tome about New York City.

The most difficult decisions weren't concerning big hard cover books that were just sitting in my book case so that I could look smart. The hardest to get rid of were the paperbacks. The Stephen King, Ann Rice and Patricia Cornwell that I truly enjoyed but would probably never read again. Those were hard decisions because with them are memories. I had a horrible sunburn when I read Tom Clancy's Patriot Games and stayed in bed the whole weekend because moving put me in excruciating pain. Of course that was when I was in my early 20s and wasn't at all concerned about what the sun was doing to my skin. So with that book is the memory of how stupid I was. Would I have remembered how stupid I was without the book? Perhaps, but the book makes the memory much more vivid.

For the most part, I kept books I really wanted to read, knew I would read again or thought I would need should I ever pursue a master's in English. Besides the complete works of Shakespeare is a must for any home library, right?

I have no idea if Nathan and I are going to win the battle to keep our house clean. I'm betting not. It's not that I'm a pessimist, but I would rather be on the floor with my kid playing with the toys than worrying about keeping the place clean for company. Besides, all our friends and family know we're really slobs anyway.

Photo shoot

2005-12-18T15:53:00.000-05:00

Today we took pictures to send out with our Christmas cards. I had originally wanted to get Autumn's picture taken by a professional, but the stores are crazy right now and we just hadn't gotten around to scheduling a sitting. We'll probably do that once she's around three months old, but for now we settled for our own digital camera.

The idea was to take a family photo in front of the Christmas tree. Nathan and I put on some festive-colored clothes and I found a green velvet dress for Autumn amongst my old clothes that my mom had pulled out of her cedar chest a few months back. We even put a holiday bandana on Molly so that she would be included too.

My dad was set to come over at 2pm to take the pictures. I dressed Autumn and the three of us went downstairs. While we waited for my dad, I snapped off a few pics while Autumn sat in her daddy's lap.

Of course Molly had to get in on the action as soon as they sat down. Autumn is getting used to the wet nose treatment.

Much better!

This would have been a candidate for the Christmas cards but mom is behind the camera!

Unfortunately our good mood was short-lived. Autumn could only tolerate so much before the tears started to flow. But Grandpa still hadn't shown up!

Finally my dad arrived and we tried a couple shots standing in front of the tree. By that time we could only calm Autumn with a pacifier.

Getting into place

This one would have been perfect if we had thought to take the storage containers out of the backround. Even Molly is looking at the camera and Autumn isn't crying.

We decided to sit down to see if we could get better results. This time Molly wasn't cooperating and Nathan was trying to wrangle her.

Now I'm not looking at the camera.

Almost there, but there's something going on with Autumn's head. Her little baby neck muscles aren't quite strong enough to hold up that melon of hers yet.

Uh oh. The pacifier has popped out and Autumn is starting to cry.

Now Daddy's not smiling.

After all that, we decided to go with this pic:

People really only want to see the baby anyway, right?

Predictability

2005-12-17T11:07:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to guide Autumn into a schedule. The end of this next week will mark the halfway point of my maternity leave and the control freak in me is hoping to make the transition back to work as easy as possible for the both of us.

Lately Autumn has been able to sleep up to five hours at night, which is great. The other night we put her down at midnight and she slept until almost 5 am. After seeing that, I had the bright idea of putting her down immediately after a 10 pm feeding and see how late she slept. Apparently she does not want to get to sleep any earlier than midnight, nor does she want to sleep more than five hours at a time. That night she gurgled and squirmed in the pack and play for an hour and a half before finally falling asleep. She then woke at 3 am for a feeding and went right back to sleep. I told Nathan we'll probably have to wait on the earlier bed time until we see she's starting to sleep more through the night. Hopefully that will happen soon because this schedule is going to kill me once I have to go back to work.

Nursing has become a bit of a challenge. If I don't get to Autumn before she launches into siren mode ("waaah waaah waaah waah!") she become very fussy and tends to yank herself off the breast. She'll be chugging along fine and then her little fist pushes me away. She then starts shaking her head back and forth, mouth open, wondering where the food went. She also has a habit of blocking me every time I try to get her to latch on. I don't understand this behavior at all because it's worse on one side than the other. I think I may have corrupted her latch with bottles and pacifiers, so another trip to the lactation consultant may be in order.

Last night we had a very harrowing experience with not wanting to latch on at all. For some reason she absolutely refused to latch on my right side. She screamed and pulled away which led me to start crying myself. Nathan urged me to calm down ("I can only handle one of you crying right now") and gave Autumn a bottle of expressed breast milk, which she had no trouble with. After she was fed and had calmed down, I tried latching her back on again only to be received with more screaming. I then switched to my left and she took to that side without a problem. We didn't have any problems at her 4:30 am feeding, but this morning at 9 am she refused the right side again. I ended up calming her down and moved to the living room where she took both sides without a problem.

The unpredictability of caring for a child is a bit disconcerting. I'm a scheduler. I like to be organized and know how I'm going to spend my time. Autumn has taught me that my time is not my own anymore. As I write this, she is starting to wake up and I may have another battle on my hands if I don't get to her soon. She starts with sniffles and random cries. Her face gets redder and more scrunched up until she wakes herself up into a tantrum or decides to go back to sleep. Apparently the latter was the more appealing option because she's quiet again. For now.

Catching Up

2005-12-09T13:40:00.000-05:00

It's been a couple of weeks since I last posted. I guess now that I can't complain about being pregnant I have less to write about. I am totally digging not being pregnant anymore. I can bend over, put on my socks and tie my shoes without assistance. I'm back to taking baths again and actually put on a pair of non-maternity jeans last week. Life is pretty good.

Autumn is doing well. I keep looking for her personality to develop but so far she's about as interesting as a hamster. I think her eyesight is developing more because she seems to have taken notice of the TV. Last night she kept moving her head to the side towards the light coming from the TV so Nathan adjusted her swing so that she could see better. After a few minutes of watching "Law and Order" we switched to a Baby Einstein DVD. I don't know if she enjoyed it more, but it made us feel like better parents.

Once in awhile I catch Autumn in a smile. It's usually when she's sleeping or right after I nurse her. I don't know if this is an actual smile or just gas, but it's the cutest thing to see. Unfortunately I haven't had a camera ready to catch the smiles. My mother tells me that in a few weeks she'll be smiling on a regular basis, real smiles, with giggles soon to follow. Right now it's all gurgles, cries and screams. The screams usually come when I wait too long to feed her. It doesn't take her long to launch into a full hunger tantrum. She seems to have inherited my impatient nature.

She's still not sleeping through the night, but at this point I'm not really expecting her to. I've been sleeping in later in the morning when she allows me to but can't seem to nap when she does during the day. Once in awhile Nathan or I will take extended naps with her in the evening. Those are the best.

Theory vs Reality

2005-11-25T10:23:00.000-05:00

I read a lot while I was pregnant and formed a lot of theories as to how things were going to go once I brought my daughter home. She was going to be breastfed only. No bottles, no pacifiers and she was going to sleep in our room in a pack and play so that I could easily wake and feed her at night.

Less than two hours after we brought her home though, she had a bottle full of formula stuck in her mouth because I was afraid she wasn't getting much to eat. She was terribly fussy and my milk had not yet come in. I was told delayed lactation is a common problem for moms who have a cesarean, but that didn't make me feel any better.

The formula seemed to fill her up some and we were offered some relief until it was time to go to bed. Nathan and I had not slept much all since I had been admitted to the hospital and were ready to crash. Autumn had other ideas though. She cried and wailed throughout the night. No sooner would we calm her and put he down and she was up again. We tried more bottles of formula and a pacifier that she kept spitting out every few minutes. Eventually her eyes closed and we were able to sleep for a few hours.

One of the problems with having a newborn is that everyone else who ever had a baby also has an idea how things are supposed to go. After that first night of no sleep, I spent the next two nights sleeping upright on our chaise lounge in the living room with Autumn cradled in my arms. She slept well, but I woke up feeling like the worst mother in the world for not putting her to sleep on her back like all the experts say we should to help prevent against SIDS. One nurse at my doctor's office said we should immediately stop sleeping with her like that lest we create a needy, clingy baby who will never be able to sleep on her own. Another nurse who called on us at home said we should do whatever works for us to get some sleep right now. If Autumn can fall asleep in our arms right now then so be it. Our pediatrician said it's impossible to spoil her at this point and that I need to get enough sleep to keep my milk supply up.

Speaking of milk, that's another hurdle entirely. Wednesday I went back to the hospital to meet with one of their lactation consultants who showed me that my latch, while not totally incorrect, was not totally effective. Apparently Autumn wasn't getting as much milk as she should and in turn wasn't gaining as much weight as she should. Again I had another terrible mother moment but the LC assured me that things would be fine once we got the latch down. She advised me to pump after feedings to build up my supply because Autumn would soon be hitting a growth spurt and my supply may not meet her demand. Well, that growth spurt seemed to have hit sooner than I thought it would because the girl has been eating like a athlete in training. The constant nursing has taken its toll and I once again resorted to a bottle of formula so that I could finally get some sleep last night.

So, since I've been home I feel as though I've made every mistake possible with this girl. Maybe there's a "Parenting for Dummies" book out there for me.