Wicked good stuff!

Let's bury that last post now, shall we? This is a picture I took of Ellie mere moments ago. As you can see she is looking soooo much better. STill a little redness under her chin and on her belly, but the worst of it appears to be over. We did get the biopsy results back and it is considered to be a nonspecific dermatitis. Which is just telling me that her skin is inflamed and they don't know why. Thanks! Can't wait to get that bill! So the new line of thinking is that Ellie had an underlying virus and this is how her body reacted to it. Along with green poops, a raspy voice and a fever for a couple of days. Damn viruses! Be gone!!!!!

In other news, WICKED is so awesome!!!!! Wow, I still have goosebumps from last night's performance. It was so moving and my God those actors can sing. If you've never seen Wicked please do. You will love it.

Well we are hosting a little family gathering today which means one thing. I gotta clean. Sometimes having visitors is the best excuse for getting stuff done.

break my heart a little more will you?

My little perfect baby got sick, but no one knows why. It started with a little redness under her chin. That's when I cut out the dairy, thought it might be a food allergy. Then was thinking maybe it was a yeast infection because the child drools like you wouldn't believe. I made an appt with her pediatrician and that day she started getting satellite sores on her belly. They gave me a cream to put on her, which I did. And when I got up the next day she had a fever and looked like this.
My little baby girl!!!!!
So a trip to the ER resulted in orders to stop the cream. Then a trip to the pediatric dermatologist on monday resulted in a biopsy and the general consensus that no one really knows what's going on. The main theory is that she started out with a small infection, yeast maybe, and her body over reacted. All I know is that it was a horrible few days. And my heart was just bursting with sadness for my little baby.

I'm happy to report that the sores are drying up and falling off, and she has beautiful baby skin underneath. Her fever is gone (doctors think it was unrelated to anything). She does not appear uncomfortable.

I learned, and this was not new information, that doctors don't always know. And having a child in this crazy world can be nerve-wrecking. There's some scary stuff out there, and you wish that your love alone could get your baby through it. But sometimes it can't. Sometimes we are powerless. And that's a bitter pill to swallow.

A Halloween would not be complete without....

fabulous costumes.....

spooky clowns...... (guess who?)

...treats....(thanks for the idea Martha Stewart)

and a good ol' donut on a string contest...

Good times.

What a difference a day makes

We are snowed in. 12 inches of snow!!!

Wordless Wednesday

not much going on here...

...just extreme cuteness. Every day. It's ridiculous, the cuteness. Morning, cuteness. Evening, cuteness. And sometimes fussiness. But even that's got hints of cuteness. Middle of the night, oh yes, still the cuteness. I mean seriously. Nobody told me that I was going to get socked in the head with the cuteness bug. For the love of God, the cuteness!

And can I just say that yes, I know what you're thinking. I listen to myself. I see the things that I take delight in now. I see the proud look on my face when she even takes a big poo poo. I've become one of those moms that is obsessed with their babies. I said it wouldn't happen and yet, it happened. Oh yes, it happened. I didn't mean for it to happen. But then I didn't know I was going to have such a cute baby, so you know, it was sort of inevitable. I'm guessing this obsession will one day die down. I know that I have lots of other things that interest me. And those are all still entertaining and all, but they can't hold their ground next to the craziest, most powerful force going on in this house...the CUTENESS. Poor visitors.

moo.

So my kid has green limeade colored poops. And has for a while now. And a mystery rash on her neck. We haven't given her solids in a week now so this all leads me to the conclusion that...da da da! Milk allergy.

so mama's just saying no to the moo.

I fully anticipate this dietary modification to be a full blown pain in the rear on the one hand. ON the other hand, a little forced dietary modification can sometimes be a good thing. Maybe it'll help me lose these last few oh so stubborn postpartum pounds. It will certainly make me more conscientious about what I'm putting into my mouth. Which won't be chocolate, and I assure you, there is a sad face attached to that statement.

But anyhoo, poop updates to come. I kickstarted this non dairy thing only today, after a slice of cheese pizza, and then I decided to push it back till after I put some cream in my coffee, and then pushed it back just a little bit more to have one, beautiful, goodbye fudgecicle. Goodbye fudgesicle. Goodbye chocolate. Goodbye cream in my coffee. Goodbye cheese. Cheese! I'll be back! Don't go changing or doing anything too crazy while I'm gone. I'll see you soon enough, just gotta take care of some things.

the view

I worked this weekend. I worked and it was glorious out. It was glorious out and I felt happy, really really happy. And I performed my hospice nurse duties, with this happiness, as I went into a lot of very sad homes. Homes where people that are loved are dying. And of course my happiness changed. (One must be ever so present in these situations.) But then I left. I drove away in my car and headed to my home, to my family. And as I drove, with the windows down, I started thinking about LIFE. What's the meaning? What are we accomplishing? What the hey is going on?

I like when I ask myself these questions because then I remember that yes, this is my LIFE. I am very much alive. I'm sculpting this here existence each and every day. I'm composing this symphony. I'm writing this ever changing novel.

I think that we, as humans are full of so many complexities, so much depth, so much DRAMA. So much that in fact it that it can all become quite dizzying. So dizzying in fact that it really just becomes...simple. The point that is. We're here, touching each other, experiencing each other. Having small interactions and taking away what we need or want from them. Filling up with whatever it is that fills us up. Singing with whatever voice we were given. Laughing. Crying. Loving. Sharing. Going home to people that we love. Receiving love. Opening up to possibilities. Feeling the wind on our faces. Trying to ignore the urges inside of us. Acting on the urges inside of us.

Sometimes I get very lost in my life's problems. I forget to look up at the view and take things way too seriously. But what if it was me in one of those sad, sad homes. It will be one day. So I ask myself: how serious will my life seem then, when I'm faced with the concept that it will soon end? Won't I want to look up from my small, tiny life and enjoy the big expanse....the big fat world of people touching each other and of a landscape that is so dynamic, so intricate, so darn beautiful? Yes, I should think the view, my view, what I choose to see will certainly change.

Point is, we're all going to live in a sad home. One day. But not this day. Not now.

This is it.

I didn't think, as a childless girl, that I would be so overcome with the "goos" and "gahs" of an infant. I surely didn't suspect that I could play for hours with a babe of only mere months, perfectly enthralled with each new finding, each smile, each twinkle. But here I am, completely in love, almost mystified that this sort of joy exists. It is a unique joy, one that I have never experienced before, and one that fills me to such extents that it brings tears to my eyes. I have such a beautiful daughter. This little bean, this little girl that I once called "cashew-y" when she was in my womb can do so many tricks. She can babble and laugh, she can roll over, she can grab at things, she puts everything in her mouth. She can see you, from across the room, and her whole countenance will change. She'll open up with the biggest grin and suddenly my heart feels like its too small for my body. And I realize that THIS is the joy of parenting. THIS is that sacred, sacred relationship between a child and their parent. And I feel honored, humbled and mostly... I feel ready. I am a mother, and nothing ever felt so right.

pumpkin girl

I got me a pumpkin girl.

Why I love the morning.

Each morning I awaken with my child at my side, nursing, eyes open. "Good morning. Good morning. It's time to get up" I say in sing song. She smiles. She always smiles. We start our day. I love holding her in the morning, so soft and mushy, so happy and rested. We go to our stations. Diaper, clothes, coffee. This child will certainly know about coffee. We play. Pattycakes, tickle time, laugh at each other. Then sleep comes quickly. She lays in her crib and then I'm gloriously alone. I light my oil burner, each morning, a new scent. A new start. A second cup of coffee. I pick up random things. I sit at my laptop. I look at my day, determine the weather, look at my plants, get some yogurt. And listen to silence.

boo!

God I wish Photoshop didn't practically paralyze my computer every time I used it. It's so fun! These little scarecrows stepped straight ouf of vintage land with the help of a little tweaking thanks to photoshop. I love me some vintage!

the ongoing balance

I get really used to seeing people die. It's my job. I know the signs that it's impending, I (usually) know what to do to manage symptoms. I am present with grieving families and I've allowed people to maintain hope even when I know that it's not going to save someone. Families need hope. And though I can tell them the clinical presentation of their loved one, who the hell am I, as their hospice nurse, to take hope away from someone?

I've lost lots of patients. Well, all of them really, except for the current ones. And every now and then one of those patients works their way up through my clinical boundary, shines through my clear lines of "not my life" and "my life". And they get in. I tell myself as a nurse that this is never a good idea, but as a human being sometimes, I realize, it is inevitable. My tuesdays and fridays for the past two months have been spent with a very special lady with lung cancer . She was a beautiful woman who made me sit at her dinner table and have lunch with her. Who made me jewelery. Who took my face in her hands when I left and told me she loves me. And yesterday she died. And though clinically I knew it was bound to happen, I had found myself doing the thing I almost never do in my job...have hope.

So this weekend I've been shaking this off. My friends and family may not notice it, there have been no tears, but there is a certain melancholy that I am working through. I hung a little necklace she gave me, with beads shaped like an angel, on my window so that the light shines through it. And I'd like that little angel, that necklace, that light, that memory, to continue to shine. To be there in the room where my child sleeps. Where life continues on. And its a reminder that death and birth are all an ongoing balance.

the randomness such is life

So yesterday I got to experience the magical mystery that is the dermatologist. I've had this fishy thing on my arm for (ahem) years, and I guess with baby here and all and the fact that I can't imagine not being here for her, I thought that I should be the responsible nurse that I am and get the thing checked out. So I'm in said dermatologist's clinic and as soon as I told them that my father had melanoma I earned me a one way ticket to hospital gown "full body check" land. Fine. I'm a big girl; I can handle this. So in walks hotty dermatological intern. Great. I don't even like showing every inch of skin to Mike. So hotty checks me out. But apparently he's not the end all know all so in walks the actual doctor, and with her? Oh 3 med students. Fun! Let's all look at my butt now shall we? Anyway, turns out I have a little precancerous thingy on my face that they say is no big deal they can freeze it off. So here comes hotty again coming at me with this blow torch thingy and mind you we have an audience as he shoots my cheek with liquid nitrogen leaving me with this blemish the size of Texas that he promises will go away. Oofta.

So later in the evening I go in to nurse the baby, come back out into the living room and Mike has a black mustache. Black. Ok there's no surprise that he's decided to go with the 'stache because the man loves to play with his facial hair but apparently today he thought he'd go the extra mile and paint his stache with my mascara. Black, folks. Tom Selleck but darker. OMG!


And then there's my dear sweet brother whom I absolutely love if not for his fine intellect then his oh so wierd and similar sense of humor. As any facebook friend of mine knows my profile picture is this:



But now we have this:




And that's all I got.

frickin fall

you are oh so yummy.

i got music in my bones!

Music is really doing something to me right now. More than it usually does. My mom sent me this iTouch thingy and I have it with me all the time now. Here's some of my discoveries, some old, some new.

The perfect melancholy music is Damien Rice. Put him on its like you become instantly reflective, a touch morose, maybe even a tear. And you don't even have to be sad. He just makes you feel something.

The Crystal Method. I know! Completely opposite effect. Nike commissioned this group to create a 45 minute set specifically for the purpose of being running music. And I'm telling you, it's like a freaking drug. Or maybe I just feel unleashed from my postpartum body. But it's like the music runs for you. I really can't describe it. It's just really, really perfect for running. Which is why whenever I'm done a run these days I come in and tell Mike "oh my God you HAVE to listen to this". He doesn't feel the same way I do. But you know, works for me!

I used to listen to this radio show when I lived in northern California called the Bonnie Simmons show and she had the BEST taste in music. She has a website: http://www.bonzilla.com/ so I've been picking out songs, listening to the little free snippet from the itunes store, and if I like it I reserve it at the public library so I can put it on my iTouch. I just got like 8 cds the other day! Guess what I've been up to.

The song Perfect Crime from the Decemberists is SO perfect. Great beat. I love this song. Still not sure about the band itself.

Ani Difranco. She can be a bit...intense. But she's a smart cookie. She's got some pretty badass lyrics if I do say so myself.

Anyway, who cares right? Boring post? Ah, the beauty of having your own personal blog. I wish you could see me now, laying in bed in the dark with my laptop, iTouch at my side with my earphones in, trying to type oh so quietly since the little bambino could wake up at any second. But right now Lyle Lovett is wishing he had a boat in my ear and so I'm somewhere....else. I think that's where the beauty is.

and the journey leads here

So the other night I'm going through a box and I started doing the terrible, sinkable thing that I swear I actually hate doing. I started reading old diaries. Usually I feel a little embarrassed for myself when I do this, you know, once I'm out of the Big. Gigantic. Thing that I simply had to diary about. Anyway, I was reading my (ahem) diary from right before I left my home state (Maine) to move to California. I had just spent a week alone in the woods and was knee deep in all sorts of grandiose visions of changing the world and being this great activist and learning about permaculture and going to nude beaches; I simply had to move to San Francisco. And I did, despite a temporary glitch of homelessness and oh so little cash. And I met all sorts of creative, earth loving hippy friends. I was gloriously single and right in the full blown midst of total self-recreation, and in reading those diaries....I was pretty cool. I was the quintessential starry eyed 25 year old following the yellow brick road to California.

But in pouring over the pages of my past, I felt like I was reading from the life of some other girl. Not this girl. This meat eating, people magazine reading girl who yes owns cloth diapers for her youngin but can't let go of her poop scoopin Huggies. Who left her massage therapy license in the esoteric world of northern california and traded it in for a nursing degree in the city of Denver. Who could scrape the dust off her backpack with the visa card that paid for the last condo she rented. Who somehow ended up in Denver. Somehow, all of that landed me here.

So anyway, I'm just reflecting a bit. Having a baby sent me for a tizzy because my world suddenly is no longer focused on me. I don't have the freedom of those starry eyed days. I'm married. With a baby. And I'm far, far from home.

But I guess this is what happens. You follow your heart down life's paths and it just takes you where you need to be. Apparently I needed to be here. In Denver. With my new family, who I love more than anything else possible. Life has changed drastically from the crazy 25 year old me. I have some amazing life stories to bring to the table as I begin to raise this small, perfect being. But I assure you, somewhere, somewhere deep inside, that starry eyed girl remains. She's covered with lots of routine and habit, but every now and then she sticks her head out into this slow-paced world. And then you get blogs like these. Oh and lots of Ani Difranco.

starting my day

Big deal that I'm running on a small handful of fragmented hours of sleep.

Today is going to be a Great Day! The weather has turned, it's time for sweaters, my babe just turned 4 months, and we're having homemade pizza for dinner tonight.

where we are now

Weeks go by quickly now. Quickly! I'm still not believing the weekend is over by the time wednesday comes around. And a good amount of predictability has returned to my life; we've got the whole routine thing going. Part of this routine involves going to work and dropping my baby off at my friend's house, and the other part of the week is my friend going to work dropping her baby off at my house. Which means there are 2-3 days every week where I have two babies. And this, a little surprisingly, is kind of hard. Well not hard. But not easy. Those babies are not synced up and I realize I have been blissfully enjoying my baby's multiple hour naps during the day, because baby number 2? He takes mini naps. I don't get that multiple hour quiet time as I chug down my fourth cup of coffee and geek out on the gagillion blogs I'm following. So if you've been wondering why my postings have been weak here's why.

But this jobshare/babyshare thing that I have going on is a good thing. I love being able to talk about the joys of parenthood and the joys of hospice nursing with my friend Sarah. We have such an unbelievable amount in common, including babies that were born just 4 days apart, and what a treat that is. Because there are very few people that I can talk to about my kid's sleep schedule and the benefits of a morphine pca pump. God I love Sarah.

But the little jewel of my week has become thursday nights where me and my good friend Betsy (new mom of twins) go out on a date and literally burst with joy as we do the most mundane of tasks like going out to eat(!) or going to the mall (!). I can't tell you how much fun I had tonight as I got food court food and slow shopped at the Carter's outlet. It was pure joy! I mean you should have seen the bargain baby clothes. And this, I know, is a true reflection of the state of where I'm at right now. I am such a mom. Wow.

And speaking of that you would not believe how insanely cute my little girl is. My God I could just eat her up and she's doing all kinds of totally amazing things like rolling over and putting her whole hand in her mouth and pretty soon I'm pretty sure she's going to be doing crossword puzzles and singing advanced choral music. She is so, so cool.

And so I admit that occasionally I mourn for the freedom of my child-free life. Sometimes I look at the state of my breasts and feel a little tear coming on. Sometimes I am down right mystified that a person so small could create so much laundry. But then I look at her, at her little upturned nose and her sweet sweet smile and all of that melts away. I am a mom now. Wow.

My what a difference a year can bring.

Last year....

This year...

I'm just sayin....

sunday

wet earth, fresh coffee, heat on for the first time, cozy blanket, snuggly baby, no agenda, morning stretches, edith piaf french classics, poached eggs on toast.

Grief

Right now I'm remembering the emotion grief. I learned, last night, that the mother of one of my friends has inoperable brain cancer. And this information sent me reeling down my own portals of grief, portals that are permanently etched in my being now. I feel so much love and sympathy for my friend, because it is a road that is lonely and scary.

My father died when I was 27, the same age as my friend. And I can pin point the moment my life changed forever. It was the phone call at 6am. "Hey dad!" I answered. "This isn't dad" said my sister. "You need to come home. Dad died today."


My father's death was significant not only because I lost a parent, but because it was the first time that grief was introduced to my life. And that abyss, the deep, echoing tunnel where there are simply not enough tears possible changes you. It forces you to struggle through your dark places, to work your way out through the webs of sadness and anger and denial. Finding your way to the other side of grief takes work, and you will be another person once there.

That said, the other person that I became was the new me. It took a lot of time to feel even somewhat normal. I walked out of that grief no longer a girl but a woman who now knows what grief is. And I'm a little more jagged, a little less romantic, but still me. The grief part eventually morphed into something else. Now five years later, it's acceptance and appreciation, and occasionally, its a very sad moment.

During our trip to Maine this summer we finally spread Dad's ashes where he requested, in Bracket lake in Northern Maine. He loved to fish there more than anything, and now his ashes are a part of that lake forever. And though that is sad, its also beautiful at the same time.





I miss you Dad.

we survived the weekend.

Ok so answer me this? HOW are you supposed to properly use an air mattress with camping? I ask this because me and the fam went camping at, say 7000 feet or so, and though we thought we were well armed with our down comforter (hey, it's CAR CAMPING), we were utterly FREEZING at night. This was the first time we had used the air bed we bought, or, excuse me, air freezer. Little Ellie did just fine with her lambskin bed and snowsuit I made her wear. She peacefully lay in between mom and dad as we literally suffered through the night. We were So. Frigging. Cold. It was potentially the worst night's sleep I've ever attempted. But hey, we survived and it sure was pretty.


Soon after we get home Mike goes out to a buddy's to watch a game, comes home around 9 or so saying he didn't "feel so good". That was quickly followed by explosive diarrhea and projectile vomiting. Poor little hubby was S-I-C-K. After a fainting spell during another freakish bathroom session I decided to turn our living room into a scene from MASH. I called my good friend Jody over (another nurse) and we got him started with an IV and gave him about a liter of fluid, which I sort of had to Macgyver together with the fluids that we had between the two of us (flushes, sterile irrigation saline, etc). It's nursey lingo but point is, we brought that color back into his little white ghostlike face in no time at all. And I was quite proud of us I must say.



Notice the fluid hanging from the nail where the picture goes.

In other news the mouse remains. We set out traps with peanut butter, came home from camping and the peanut butter is mysteriously gone. But the trap remains set. This is clearly a very smart mouse so we have moved to glue traps. And truly every time I walk into the kitchen my heart sort of skips a beat as I check down at the glue bait. But that mouse seems to be gone. While I don't really like the fact that it can just come and go like that, I have to admit, in some perverse way, I do feel this wierd sort of bond with this mouse. You know, the whole cat and mouse game, like I sort of started liking it once I stopped being afraid of it. But I'm still keeping out the trap. I haven't changed that much.

Advice to me three months ago

• Relax. Enjoy your maternity leave for every bit of gooey wonderfulness that it is.
• Breastfeeding: you will one day soon actually enjoy it. And it really won't hurt one bit. And you will actually see your baby grow from it!
• Baby weight: don't stress about it. Just because some moms can get into bikinis 6 weeks after they deliver, most can't. Be gentle with yourself and kind. Remember that you are now modeling for your daughter. She must know that she's beautiful no matter how she looks, just as you are.
• Don't stress about getting out and doing all sorts of things this summer. The number one goal is to keep that perfect baby healthy and well. She doesn't mind staying in playing with you one bit.
• Sleep: your baby needs a ton of it. As soon as she shows signs of being tired, put her down. Sleep is an important necessity for babies.
• Batteries. Buy tons of batteries, mostly D's. Just trust me, you'll need them.
• Don't return all of your baby shower items that you question. You really don't have a clue what it is you'll need. Just keep receipts.
• Friends: you will feel a special kinship with your friends with babies. They will support you in ways you never knew you needed.
• Family: you will understand why people want family to be nearby. Not only can they help you with your baby but you now want to share all of your baby's wonderfulness with them.
• Exercise: There is some major abdominal damage. You will need to really focus on your core in the beginning. Running will be tricky and painful until you get those core muscles strong again.
• Slings: Use the heck out of them. They will make your world so much easier.
• Talk to your baby all of the time. She loves your voice.
• Rest. Don't feel you need to conquer the world. Settle in on this one, amazing miracle that is your baby. The rest of the stuff can wait.
• Enjoy! She will grow up so quickly you won't even believe it.

It happened.

I've really hoped I would never have to write these words, folks, but today it happened.

I saw a mouse, inside my house!!!

I HATE (underline, underline, BOLD) mice. They make my spine do this gyrating thing and I'm pretty sure they are the grossest creatures in the world. Well maybe except for bats, which are pretty ugly, but not as dirty as mice. I have this deeply ingrained detestment for the furry little rodents. I know not why, only that I do, and though I don't like to be a reactive sort of person, when I see a mouse, in my house, I freak out. Which I did, only inwardly because I was holding the baby, who I was trying to get to sleep.

Ok so that was 4 hours and ago, and, changing the subject, she just went down. I mean Oh. My. God child! We did everything under the sun and my boobs have essentially lost all feeling from nonstop nursing. She gets so close she's there. And then I ever so gently start to extrapolate myself, freezing in place if she starts to wake up a touch. If she's kind of limp and wet noodley then I oh so slowly lay her down. And then, magically, as soon as her head touches that crib mattress, "Waaahhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!". Shit. Start over. Times four hours.

Any way going back to the mouse thing. I don't know what we're going to do. We need to get mouse traps but what happens if it goes off and Mike is at work. No Way! I'm just so bummed that this has happened. I thought we had this nice little secure bungalow, free from disgusting critters but now my sense of security has been compromised. And if you are judging my seeming ridiculousness about this mouse fear then you truly have no idea what it's like to be grossed out this bad. I hate mice.
and truth be told, squirrels, because they look a little too much like mice, with furry tails.

Getting her feet wet

I'm writing this post melt down.
Even though something as simple as going to Babies R Us should be relatively easy, it's not. Well things were fine, it felt great to be out and about with my l'il one. Then factor in a car ride, quickly followed by Loud. Relentless. Screaming. I'm talking gulping wails, horse throat, thoughts that surely there is a large creature in the backseat munching on your baby. There isn't. But no matter how much you tell yourself she is fine, she just wants to be picked up, no matter how loud you turn on the radio, your own personal meltdown is almost assured. If you're a mom. Then factor in traffic, with death threats to anyone who tries to slow you down. DON'T YOU KNOW THERE'S A SCREAMING BABY IN THIS CAR???? People wonder why we don't enjoy mommy daughter jots around town more often.

Anyhoo, my little munchkin, despite her infrequent meltdowns (and my own) is a pure delight. Seeing her discover the world around her makes everything feel different for me. It's like the little details in life become shiny again, and you see them through the eyes of this new, tiny human. Though actually moving about in the world is not as easy as it once was, it's worth every ounce of effort. There is no greater happiness then watching her delight as she discovers herself and her surroundings. Being a mom is so very cool.

Wordless wednesday

Olivia and Austin. Their mom Darci is in the background. This picture is hilarious! It says so much!

She's growing up.

Little peanut girl.

Every day you become more sturdy,

less like the noodle I brought home,

more like the little girl you will one day be.

Sometimes I long for the days

that your legs will carry you

and you will discover the world with captive fascination.

But then you will not be my baby,

constantly needing to be held.

I want time to speed up

and slow down all at once.

I pray I never forget

how sweet your face is right now

when it catches my eyes and you open up

with your lopsided grin.

I hope never to forget

the sweet smell of your baby hair,

the smoothness of your skin

the sounds of your cooing, as you begin to discover

the voice that will soon sing its own song.

I pray I do not forget the way my heart feels

as you nestle in my bosom

and how everything became powerless

in the shadow of this immense

and beautiful love.

well that was fun

As you may have noticed, I've recently experimented with Google Adsense on my blog. I was leery for so long but thought, hey, maybe can I actually make a little money doing this blog thing that takes up so much of my time. I tried to ignore them the best I could, neatly stuck them on the side of my blog. But when one of the "random" ads was posted on my blog today for baby caskets (!) I thought "F That!" Not having any control who gets to appear on my blog just doesn't work for me.

So the blog is back to normal. Experiment over.

Television: hate to love it, love to hate it.

[At this particular moment] I hate the television. It's amazing how many channels of crap there are. When it's on pointlessly (read: nothing good on) I get this wierd feeling that it's filling me with all sorts of brainwashing hidden messages to go out and like buy Tide or worship the devil or something like that.

This of course doesn't apply when there's something on that I actually like. I'm very hypocritical this way.

I have this friend and her and her husband don't even own a t.v. Which is probably a little too far in the other direction for me. But we stopped by their house last night and I could see in their windows as we walked up their drive. There was J, sitting with his glasses on, reading in the soft light, and there was S, sweetly playing with the baby. Sigh. It looked like heaven. Sweet, comfortable, quiet heaven.

The concept of television brings up some debate. How do we want to raise Eleanor in relation to television? TV was a big part of my childhood. My world was largely molded by 80's pop culture; I would spend hours watching television every day. But tv is different now. I mean you can say bitch, ass and I think maybe even shit on regular tv now. I can just see Punky today telling Henry to shut the fuck up about her leg bandana or Natalie and Tuti calling Mrs. Garrett a bitch ho for making them room with Jo.

So what kind of example do we want to start setting?

My vote is this: To watch television mindfully. There are some awesome shows out there that are great fun to watch; I don't think we should stop all television watching fun for the sake of the youngin'. But when the show is over, turn off the tv. There has been so much wasted time flipping through channels, trying to find the best option in a sea of crap. I mean how many freaking episodes of Iron Chef can a person watch? But as easy as that sounds to do, I think Mike and I have both been mildly conditioned to think that tv = time to relax. Take away the tv and you have to actually entertain yourself! Gasp!

I actually really enjoy shared quiet times. I feel more creative, more comfortable, and more content in my home. So unless it happens to be time for The Office, Heroes, Ellen, Top Chef, True Blood, a Rockies game (for Mike), the morning news, or the occasional Sex and the City rerun, my vote is to keep that puppy off!

dinner and a movie

Well hey guys, guess what I'm doing tonight?
I'm going on a date!

It's about time we had a little one on one time, just the two of us. You know we're all shotgun married, baby comes and rocks our world and we're like hello? Who the hell are you?

I love him, I do. But I'll just say that we need this.

A friend of mine came over today, with her little 6 week old baby, and we caught up and talked about babies and gooed and gaa'ed over our little ones and in the back of my mind I'm thinking, man, who'd of thunk I'd be here, actually enjoying this. Life is funny. In a split second it completely changes and you're forced into a new way of being meanwhile perhaps standing with your mouth open saying "but, but, wait....". Being a parent is really nothing like I thought it'd be. Except that I knew that I'd love her. And I do. So stinkin much.

So the big decision of the night is "The Hangover" or "Julie/Julia". I'm pushing for Julia but we'll see.....

Top 10 ways you know motherhood has changed you

1. You accidentally talk to your adult friends in baby talk.
2. You become hypersensitive to the state of germs on people's hands
3. You told yourself while you were pregnant that you would NOT be one of those moms that bores people by talking about their baby all the time however you just happened to have given birth to the coolest baby ever.
4. You go to Kohl's and don't even look at the women's clothing. You head straight for the baby section.
5. You finally know what it feels like to max out your memory card on your camera.
6. You remain as unorganized as ever however your baby bag might as well be a catalogue piece for the Container Store.
7. Vacationing to Disneyland actually sounds pretty cool.
8. You think nothing of sticking your finger in your child's diaper to see if she pooped.
9. Days are measured not in hours, but in naps.
10. You discover your heart is capable of loving more than you ever imagined.

The beauty of multi-tasking

Having my little one has made me long for extra limbs. Baby's needing to be held All. The. Time. Which is generally fine because I love the stinker so much that I crave her when she's not with me. BUT, sometimes I have like, real life adult things I need to do, like eat, or put on mascara, or water the tomatoes, or (hush voice) go to the bathroom. You know.

Thank God for wraps, number one. My life would be relegated to a little pile on the couch without my Snugli and Moby wraps. But even with baby safely stowed kangaroo style, you have to learn to be a multi-tasker, a balancer, calm and collected and use more than just your two arms to get things done. Needless to say, new baby = new skill set.

Ellie went to her first Rockies game Saturday and though I was kind of a nervous Nelly because it's so stinkin loud, I just gave her a little set of "earmuffs" whenever things got out of hand sound wise and she did great. GREAT. Mike went out after the game and her and I headed home, and just as I predicted, melt down. I hate hate hate the sound of crying baby in the backseat of the car. You can't get to her, you can only listen and it downright sucks. STILL, I had the perfect vision for my night alone with baby and it entailed chick flicks and a big order of Pad Thai. So I hauled crying baby into Thai bistro, got home, settled her via boob and 45 minutes later wanted to enjoy my pad thai (I was so psyched for this). Of course it's cold, so I heat it up, mind you baby is still on boob, go to sit on couch but spill drink, then pad thai falls on ground, baby starts crying, and I'm close behind her. It was one of those mama moments. And yes, I ate the pad thai anyway damn it.

Go Rockies!

This is what happens when your husband goes baby clothes shopping without you.

Sigh.

Pipe dreams and booby hickies

I guess I'm going to bed at 8 now. I don't really want to. But even despite extreme exhaustion, calming bedtime rituals, hours of boob time, little Ellie refuses to sleep unless she has a parental unit within an arms reach. So we're chillin in bed, aka new office. Whatever.

So I started back to work, and though I was mildly freaked out at the concept, once I was there it felt GOOD. It felt like a novelty cruising around in my little car and being able to stop, run in and get something somewhere if I wanted to, you know, and not have to make it an hour long production. And fortunately I DID remember how to be a nurse, because there was a part of me that was wondering if those skills had left the building. There seems to be a good deal of muscle memory there. As far as Ellie, well I was lucky because Mike is taking off two days a week to stay home this month, and those are the two days that I'm working. Mondays and Fridays. Really, this is quite a good gig. Things will pick up more in September but that's then and it's not now.

I have a new fantasy though. Wouldn't it be dreamy to NOT go to work, but rather stay at home and be a full time blogger? Pipe dream I'm sure, but I am starting to slowly investigate this world of making money blogging. I know that people do it. I also know that I LOVE to blog. But this blog probably wouldn't make it. Not enough people know about little old me so there would have to be some tweaking. And so I'm more or less just writing this to help turn my own creative process into something more tangible. After all folks, why the hell not?

As a completely random side note...Ellie and I co-sleep. (Read: she sleeps right next to me.) This is all for the sake of getting a good nights sleep, which I surely do...now. Little Ellie wakes up, I throw her a boob and we're all happy. Trouble is sometimes she loses her latch and starts sucking on my skin while I'm sleeping. I guess this is why I woke up today and there were hickies all over my boobs. If I showered at the gym the ladies might think I was quite the little sexual deviant. And it'd be kind of fun if they weren't from her. But they are. Always from her.

And if anyone cares we are making the switch to cloth diapers today. So look out water bill, we're coming to getcha!

My guru

There are many things in this life of mine that I am blessed for. But one facet in particular are my friends with babies. I never knew this would become so important to me until I had little Ellie. As I've experienced my daily struggles and triumphs, it's so refreshing to have a support system of female mommies who actually care and contribute to this new language I'm talking in.

That said, there is one person in particular who is two steps ahead of me, plowing the road during a winter storm as I drive directly behind her. Said guru is actually my next door neighbor Betsy who has, count em, not one, but TWO infants to take care of. And that alone puts her in a respect bracket that I never knew existed. I soak up her wisdom like a sponge, I really do. Betsy's babies have 2 months on little Ellie, so I always feel like I'm getting a preview. I can't tell you the number of times I've said to Mike, "Betsy said...." and "Betsy does this....." And to think just a few months ago her and I were relishing in our pregnancy bliss sucking down Dairy Queen milkshakes and talking about all the things that were to come, both completely ignorant to How It Really Is.

(Zoe and Jude with Ellie)

Our close proximity has been awesome and I've spent many an afternoon over at this household watching Betsy perform her "circuit". Babies breastfeed (sometimes tandem), burp, change diapers, swing time, bumbo chair to play gym to tummy time to jumping station thingy to change diapers to breastfeeding to nap time. Holy crap! Before you know it literally hours have gone by and I realize I have beads of sweat and I was only spectating, holding my little sleeping baby . Add a little cholic to the situation, a little swine flu (yes, swine flu), make it out to the other side and you are officially.....


A Guru!

I know that Betsy often hears from people "I don't know how you do it". I don't think anybody "knows" how they do it, until its here, and they must. I think it's amazing the amount of strength that a person can muster up when the situation calls for it. Betsy and all you other mamas out there with multiple babies (like Kim), my hat goes off to you. I don't know how you do it.

Oh yeah....come to mama!

I thought to myself last night that perhaps it was wierd that I wanted to go to bed just so I could get up and have my morning cup of coffee. I couldn't wait. Could not wait. Why did the nighttime have to take so darn looooong?

This isn't my first post about my love of coffee, and I think it's safe to say that I'm hooked. That might explain that deep seeded joy that I get when I smell those moutwatering beans. And those days when sometimes, just sometimes, Mike gets up and puts a pot on for me (he hates it...)(I know.) and I feel just like a cartoon with the smell hitting my nose and essentially pulling me out of bed like a rope was attached to me. My mom once said it was like having a warm hug and I thought you know, that mom, she's on to something there.

But I know why I love it. Because, well not only does it taste good, it means something. It means a fresh start, a new day. That morning cup says that the day is my oyster, and that cup of coffee is setting it up. And I love fresh starts. Especially the coffee flavored kind.

Our little traveler

Man nothing heals the downtrodden psyche like a little vacation. Wow do I love vacation! Being away from the house, away from bills, away from dirty piles of whatever, seeing new places. It's healing and I needed it! And I/we got it!

Little Eleanor got to take her first trip to Maine, the place where her mama grew up. I love Maine. To me it is the best place to go for a vacation (and wonderful to live in as well). She got to see the ocean, the woods, tons of family and friends, but sadly no Moose. Though we certainly tried on that one.

Ellie rocked it on the plane. She slept the whole time and only woke up to nurse. She rocked it on the trip as well. She was passed around to so many different family members, was completely out of her normal routine, yet was rarely fussy. Yes, I am lucky. I fully acknowledge this. Of course much of the trip was spent in her Moby wrap (see picture above). This wrap is a lifesaver. It keeps her calm, warm, and it keeps her away from strange hands wanting to touch her and pick her up. Sometimes that gets very annoying!

In short, vacation = perfect reminder that life exists outside of my own self-imposed stresses!

The namesake

My little Eleanor Grace has a namesake. It's my grandmother Eleanor Grace Lent, or as I've always known her, "Nannie". She's a real special lady; caring, kind, outgoing, storyteller, good person. I'm proud that my daughter is named after her.

This past weekend the two finally got to meet.

Where am I?

I'm on vacation.

Where you need to beware of crossing Moose.
Where you may find yourself in traffic with tractors.
Where you check into a cabin and they don't even have a key for it.
Where you can say you had a good meal if you have butter stains all over your shirt.
You might be related to the people you meet.
You might see people wearing matching tshirts. With wolves on them.
Where peak season isn't summer. It's snowmobiling season.
Where you wave to oncoming traffic.
Where you pick up a couple pickled eggs when you fill up your car.
Where your rental car could be 1997 Geo Prism with roaches in the ashtray.

Where am I?