Peach Orchard Project

Time Away

2011-09-27T20:12:00.006-04:00

Hi.

I know. It's been a while, huh.

Here, allow me to distract you with this adorable side-eye from my kid:

Esscuse me? Where you been, guuurl?

So the job transition is consuming a lot of my time, obviously. I was away for a week and now I'm settling into the new role, new office, and new (much longer and more soul-sucking) commute. It's a lot. I haven't had a chance to browse any of my regular blogs, nevermind actually update my own.

Being away earlier this month was :gasp: not as bad as I expected. The build up was much worse than the trip itself. I nearly gave myself a panic attack the night before. The kind of anxiety when you can't feel your hands and one of them contorts into a claw? Maybe my sister's the only one who would understand the claw thing. Anyway, it was rough.

But then I got there. And I was like, "Okay, I'm here. For 5 days. Let's do this and then go home." I dove head first into the trainings (yawn) and networking events (ugh) and team dinners (meh) like my life depended on it. I was so distracted I didn't have time to dwell on how much I missed home.

I'd talk to Des on speaker phone every morning and get frequent updates from Tony. Apparently Des was a superstar all week, not a tear or tantrum in sight. Ahem. God bless my husband for knowing exactly what to keep secret.

This is me on the window sill of my hotel room, all, "Ok. So. What do I do now?" Solo traveler extraordinaire, I am not.

I should have taken a picture of the hotel bed. Holy ess, it was like a cloud in heaven and the comforter was like a hug from angels. That bed made the whole thing worth it.

There were even moments of the trip when I actually had... :looks around:... fun. SHH! Don't tell.

Like when we had a lovely low key dinner here:

Prior to which I attempted a field goal, threw footballs through tires, and generally one-upped the alpha males as I tend do in these type situations. It happens sometimes. Ask Tony.

Then there was that one night when I hung out with this guy:

You don't need details. But it was basically a flashback to my early 20's. A fabulous, hilarious horror show. Unfortunately I'm actually in my early 30's and I don't bounce back as easily from mechanical bulls. Ow.

So that trip is over. I have another coming up in November. And potentially more work travel in the future for both me and Tony. So please pardon me as we all get settled into this new life. I will not abandon this blog entirely, but udpates may come in spurts. Time is of the essence these days. And the precious free moments I get are usually spent like this:

He's a great lap cuddler. And god did I miss him.

The Job Front

2011-09-06T14:24:00.006-04:00

As I've touched upon in the past, my career hit a bit of a speed bump recently. To put it briefly, my company was acquired by another larger firm. It was not guaranteed that there would be a position for me (or for anyone, really). Most of us had to interview for positions. Luckily, there was a match for me. And after hours upon hours of internal debate and family discussion, I accepted the offer with the new firm.

So yay for having a job!

While I am staying in the same department, my job responsibilities will be changing drastically. Also, I will now be commuting into the city. Can I get a collective 'UGGGH'? Yeah. This was one of the major sticking points for me. My commute will basically triple in duration, and instead of a congested highway, I'll be dealing with the woes of public transportation. Sigh.

However, the new company offers flexible work hours and the ability to work from home a great deal more than my current company. So I may only need to actually go into the office 2-3 days a week (if that!). They put a lot of emphasis on pursuing a positive work life balance, very family oriented, blah-dee-blah. So the days I have to go into the office will kinda suck, but on the days I'm home I'll get to drop Des off and pick him up from daycare, which I don't even get to do now! Major MAJOR plus.

On a semi side note... next house project = Home Office. Working at the dining room table is okay when it's once a week, but after that I imagine it will get old. IKEA here we come!

Next week I am traveling to a 5-day event for the merge of the 2 companies. 5 days. Away from home. From my husband, from my baby. I need a paper bag. To breathe in.. and out.. in.. and out. Obviously I'm having a bit of anxiety about this. And knowing that this event was in my future was even one of the negatives in taking the job. I do not part easily from my family, especially for 5 days... God I even hate typing that out loud. BREATHE DAMMIT.

But for some reason, the closer it gets to the event the less nervous I feel. Time is flying, and I hope it flies while I'm there too. I leave on Monday, back on Friday. I won't miss a weekend. Undoubtedly there will be tears. But I'm hoping I'll be plenty distracted so it'll be over before I know it.

There's an episode of the Simpsons in which Homer is having a particularly tough time at his miserable job. If you've ever watched that show for 5 minutes, you know this is one of the overarching themes: Working Man vs. Rich Greedy Old Boss. There's a sign hanging in Homer's office with a photo of crotchety Mr. Burns saying, "DON'T FORGET, YOU'RE HERE FOREVER." Homer tapes photos of his daughter Maggie on the sign so that instead it reads:

I think about this a lot lately. I'll think about it on the plane. And at the conference. And during those seemingly endless commutes.

I do it for him.

Long Time Coming

2011-08-30T21:24:00.010-04:00

Since we've lived in this house, the outdoor stairs have been the bane of my existence. I fear for my life every time I set foot on them. Okay... that's an exaggeration. But perhaps not totally out of the realm, considering the minor slip I had on our interior stairs... when I was 7 months pregnant... that resulted in a fractured elbow.

Anyway.

I'm a klutz, is what it is. And these stairs are not klutz friendly. Especially when the klutz is carrying a 30-pound squirming toddler up and down them.

See for yourselves:

They were built on a diagonal to compensate for... something. I don't know. Also, no balusters. The wood was splintering with age. And the concrete block of a bottom step was chipping away.

To give you some spacial perspective, the main entry is not at the front of the house. It's off to the side. The door at the front of the house is actually the entrance to the in-law apartment downstairs. This proves to be a bit confusing for first-time visitors and pizza delivery guys.

Dizzy yet?

So when we talked about re-doing the stairs, all those many years ago, we wanted to make them safer, nicer, and look more prominent.

To get the job done we called our boys from Choice Woodworking, who happen to include our brother-in-law Nick and good friend Paul, and who basically did our entire interior remodel (so far). Despite our obvious bias, these guys are skilled artists. And I want to marry them. Or have my sister marry one of them, either way.

Tony tore the stairs down the day before, and The Boys spent a couple days building the new stairs. Needless to say, I was giddy with excitement with the whole shebang. It only took a few days, but it was quite a journey.

Day 1: Demo and wood delivery

Des supervised the demo.

Which went fairly quick.

Then the supplies came... Another job for Supervisor Des. There was a big truck, a cool forklift, and huge planks of wood involved. He was all over this.

Look at the size of that truck.

If toddlers could say "OMG!"

Here he comes!

This'll do.

Get back to work!

Day 2: There was a jackhammer. And some framing. And some ass kicking.

New dad, Nick, hard at work.

Mhmm, mhmm. Lookin' good.

It came together fast!

Remnants of their art.

Day 3: Finished product

Ooooooh...

Aaaaah...

Eeeeee!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

So there's our new stairway!

I leave the front door open so I can stare at it all day. The first night I pulled a sleeping bag out there and slept on the deck. Not really. But I thought about it. Tony's really excited about putting a pumpkin out there. Which, obviously yeah. There will be pumpkins. It's just so cute that he said that.

A final side by side, before/after comparison:

Our new stairway survived its first hurricane unscathed. Obviously. I mean, looka that thing!

The Cape

2011-08-25T19:27:00.008-04:00

Although we haven't been able to take a real vacation this summer due to work schedules and that little trip we took in May, we were able to get away for a long weekend to the Cape. My sister and her family graciously invited us down to their rental house and we eagerly accepted.

My mom and more of our family were also renting a house in the area.

We relaxed on the beach, took walks, breathed the clean ocean air, ate amazing food, and spent time with the people we love most. We couldn't ask for a better time.

We also stopped to see the legendary Mr. Wagner, the man who found my rings on the beach 3 years ago (a story I hold close to my heart and will share some day soon). He and his wife are so lovely. We got to share our new story of finding a ring, which they were amazed by. Mr. Wagner even buffed Tony's ring for him. We said we wanted to leave the little nicks in the fine metal for nostalgia, but there's no way we could deny Mr. W when he offered. And what a perfect way to come full circle in our ring sagas.

He and his beautiful wife made us promise we'd visit again. Since we're already planning our Cape vacation for next year, that shouldn't be a problem. I don't think I can go another summer without taking a week off. We will be back next year for certain.

Lesson Learned

2011-08-14T20:02:00.012-04:00

On a whim Tony and I decided to take Des to the New England Aquarium today. It was cloudy and rainy out, so we were looking for a fun indoor activity.

The fact that it was the first icky weekend day all month should have tipped us off to stay away from any 'fun indoor activity,' unless it was in our own home. Ahh hindsight...

We found cheap parking in the city and walked around the waterfront. We don't venture to that part of the city often, so we took our time watching the boats and seagulls and tourists.

By the time we arrived at the aquarium there was a massive, snaking line from the entrance alllll the way back to the street. This can't be the ticket line, can it? No, it's probably for a duck tour or whale watch or I dunno, is Harry Potter himself here?? No such luck. It was the ticket line. We thought we planned it so we would miss the rush!

There was no way Des was going to sit still in this line. So we pushed the stroller over to the exterior seal exhibit, trying to decide what to do. Des LOVED the seals. Well, at first he was scared. He nearly jumped out of his skin when one of them swam by. It was really funny. We are the kind of parents who find our child's initial terror of harmless situations side-splittingly hilarious. But after that, he was pointing and yelling at them, like, "HI THERE, I SEE YOU SEAL, YOU ARE SWIMMING AND I LOVE YOU," kind of yelling. Aww, look he loves them!

Despite the fact that we were thinking of nixing the aquarium idea and walking around the city for the afternoon, Des's adoration of the seals made me want to take him inside. How much would he love the penguins and turtles and shiny fish as far as the eye can see? But that line. No effin way, is what I said to that line.

"Damn, we coulda bought tickets online and printed them at home," Tony said. "I wish I thought of it."

"What if we went to Kinkos?" I am truly brilliant sometimes. FedEx/Kinkos was just a couple blocks away. We'd be there and back before most of these people even make it halfway to the ticket window.

So that's what we did. And I was so proud of myself for coming up with that plan. All those people waiting in line are clearly not as smart as we are. But as we made our way back to the aquarium, printed tickets in hand, I had a thought. All those people waiting. Those hundreds of people... they're going to be inside eventually. Every one of them, in those dark aisles and along the edges of tanks, congested and crowded. The wind went out of my sail. Ohhh crap.

See, I'm not so good in those situations. I like bright, under-populated, wide open spaces where me and my kid can run around. So umm.. what was I thinking again?

Welp, we paid $50 for this, we might as well go in at this point. And as soon as we walked in the doors, my fears were justified. Wall-to-wall people. The last time I had been here I was in elementary school. I recalled it being A LOT bigger. But maybe that's the claustrophobia talking.

Despite the crowds, it wasn't all bad. Des actually enjoyed himself for the most part, and that's what it's all about, right folks? Unfortunately I had a minor anxiety attack in the middle of the starfish exhibit where it felt like the walls were closing in on me and I was going to be sucked spinning into the tile floor. So for the most part Tony handled Des, and I handled the stroller and the arduous task of keeping my shit together.

When I was breathing at a normal pace, it was so fun to see Des's reactions to all the surroundings. The penguins were his buddies. The shark scared him to death at first, as it did ME, and the turtles were as a big as cars. But he loved it all. And it's always an amazing experience to see this world from a fresh set of eyes. Especially when my old eyes are polluted with stupid anxiety.

Check out these ooh's and aah's (if you listen past the crowd noise):

These pics are a bit blurry due to poor lighting, constantly moving subjects, and my piss-poor photography skills. But you get the gist.

Penguin buddies!

Just like St. John

Puffer fish

I love coral

Also, turtles

"Oh Holy Jesus!" was my very loud reaction amongst the crowd of young children.
"Rawr!" was Des's.

Starfish

Sweet, sweet fresh air

Moving freely is awesome

Me and my turtle boy

Side note: Best of luck to Auntie Jaclyn on her trip back east from California!! We can't wait to see her. And her 'lovie' is going to give her the biggest most excited smiles and hugs ever. She has no idea.

Trains, Planes, and... Make it stop already

2011-08-10T21:52:00.006-04:00

Desmond inherited a big bin full of Thomas trains. Every morning, the first thing he does after we walk downstairs is to reach for the bin and whine until we open it, “eh eh eh.” Then he spends the next half hour taking out each train one by one, lining them up in a circle all around him.

The original owner, Des’s cousin Liam, was obsessed with Thomas a few years ago. Liam would sit on the floor with the thick Thomas catalogue, pointing and naming every train from memory before he could even read. The names of close family members would often slip his mind (his famous saying was, “Who are you again?”), but heck if he couldn’t pick Diesel 10 out of a line up!

Truthfully, I’ve always been a bit creeped out by Thomas and his friends. Gray clay-like faces on the front of giant steel machines. They spoke in British accents and used weird words like “cross” and “chuff.” They answered to a man in a top hat and tuxedo jacket. They didn’t have limbs. What if they had an itch on their face?? These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

Des didn’t understand that his favorite bin was full of Thomas trains. He’s just always been fascinated with trucks and cars and anything with wheels. These could have been all of the above. Fun!

Well, he didn’t understand they were Thomas trains until recently.

Tony, in his infinite nerdiness, decided he wanted to learn the names of all the trains. As Des picked each one out, Tony tested himself aloud with the names. Apparently, Des started remembering too. Recently I asked him, “Where’s Spencer?” He stood over the bin, staring into it. Then he shuffled his hand inside and pulled out the sleek silver train. Spencer. Thinking it was a fluke, I asked, “Okay, where’s Toby?” I could see his eyes searching, then his hand feeling around, and out came the brown square train. Toby.

Wow, that's amazing! Impressive! Scary as hell!

And oh greeeeat.

He’s only seen a few episodes of the TV show. But now that he’s learning who Thomas and his friends are, he gets SUPER PSYCHED when it comes on.

Exhibits A through Z:

I guess I have to get over my creepy Thomas issues.

Anything for this face.

Blowing the Stink Off

2011-08-08T20:50:00.006-04:00

Des had a bit of an off day at daycare. He was in a fine mood, played well with others, ate all his snacks and lunch. But the napping... oh the napping. His caretaker tried twice, but Des just cried and cried. We've been having some sleep issues recently. And coming off of a weekend always makes it worse.

Needless to say, his mood by the time he got home was less than desirable.

It had rained most of the day, but the skies finally cleared after dinner. As Des sat whining through another episode of Chuggington, I finally said, "He needs to get out and blow the stink off him."

"What, does he stink?" Tony said.

"No, he's been cooped up, he's cranky, he needs to run around in the fresh air. Blow the stink off of him."

He looked at me like I had two heads. I was shocked he had never heard this phrase. My mother must have said that EVERY DAY growing up, 'Get out and blow the stink off ya!' I assumed every mom said that. I plan on keeping the phrase alive.

As we put our shoes on, Tony said, "Okay Des, let's go outside and get that smell out."

I laughed. "It's blow the stink off!"

And as soon as we got out there, put Des down on the wet grass and let him run around the yard, he was a new boy. He was our boy.

This, my love, is what blowing the stink off looks like.

(Sorry for the skinny iPhone video. We have a flip. We should probably use it.)

Summer Night

2011-08-03T21:26:00.003-04:00

What a lovely night. There's a breeze wafting through the window sheers. It's nice to not have the hum of the AC in the background. I love the summer, but a cool evening is a welcome change.

Right now I'm half-watching a movie I've seen a dozen times already, my laptop on a pillow, and a glass of wine on the coffee table. Tony is in bed, finally home from a few days away for work, a long and exhausting stretch for the both of us. We don't do apart well.

Desmond is going through a rough patch with sleeping. Or not sleeping, as it were. It happens every once in a while. It will pass. It usually does within a week or two. Hopefully soon because my back is shot from laying on the floor next to his crib. Dealing with a rough patch like this alone, on top of all the other daily care taking, is draining. Then to end a tough day in big empty bed... well, I'm glad my husband is home.

Both my boys are resting quietly upstairs. I'll join them soon. And tomorrow it's back to the way things should be. Tony and I plugging away at our laptops on the dining room table as Des comes by with a train or a book, forcing us to take a needed break. I love Thursdays. I love my family.

Welcome to the World

2011-08-03T09:17:00.004-04:00

Cameron James!

Born Sunday 7/31 at 5:42pm, 7 lbs (not sure of the length).

Nana holding her 10th grandchild.

Snuggly

So Des has a new little cousin who will live right down the street. I have a strong feeling they are going to be best buds, despite the fact that Des banged on the side of Cameron's bassinet in the hospital. Cam barely flinched. That's a good sign.

Proud parents, Janet (my sis and best friend in the whole world) and Nick (one of the coolest guys on the planet). That is one lucky kid.

Was Desmond ever this teenie? :tear:

I am beside myself with excitement to get to know this new little person, and to see my best friends become parents. It is such an amazing adventure. We are lucky to be a part of it.

Congratulations Nick and Janet. I love you both to pieces. You guys make beautiful babies.

Sometimes You Just Need a Day

2011-07-27T20:01:00.010-04:00

To take a random Wednesday off, despite certain urgencies at work. To hit the road with your baby in the back seat and a couple of towels in a bag. One day to leave the laptop at home. To use the phone to take pictures only.

To splash in the waves.

To dig in the sand.

To run.

To fall.

To laugh.

To make memories.

Today I went to the water with my boy. He is such a beach baby, lucky for me. It was just me and him and that gorgeous ocean air. I wish days like this could happen more often. But then maybe they wouldn't feel so special.

Change

2011-07-23T15:34:00.005-04:00

In light of all the change that is going to be happening in the next few weeks, I figured the mop on my head needed a transformation as well:

Before:

After:

This is going to be infinitely easier to maintain, especially in this ridiculous heat. And the blond is like coming home. I missed it.

More news on some big changes on the job front this week. Decisions need to be made, but at least I know I have options. Still figuring this all out.

Sorry for the vagueness. You understand.

Road Block?

2011-07-11T19:24:00.005-04:00

So things are... hmm. Going.

At least this guy is keeping me going.

Just to put it all out there, I'm facing some tough times at work. I know, I hate talking about work here. Isn't that Blogging 101? Don't cross the streams? Total protonic reversal, and all that. I won't go into details. But the gist is, I may or may not have a job in a few weeks. And it's stressing me out. Big time. Like, if I run my hand through my hair I'll pull out a clump, kinda stress. Also I may have lost 40-50% of my eyelashes. Needs me some falsies STAT.

Everyone's all, 'Whatever happens happens,' 'It's out of your hands,' 'Don't get stressed about things you can't control.' And I'm all puking in the corner thinking about mortgage payments and college funds and career paths and commutes from hell. They mean well. And I'm not scoffing at those words of wisdom like "You don't know my LYFE!" They're totally right. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel like I'm spiraling down a hole, grasping at the sides with my fingernails.

This could be a totally awesome turn of events. I just have no idea. And I HATE not knowing what's going to happen next. Don't ever try to throw me a surprise party or I'll claw your eyes out. If not right at that moment, then in your nightmares. It's a promise. So basically yeah, surprises aint my thing.

With this potential road block/opportunity/who-the-hell-knows, I have hit a blogging wall. I'm having trouble digesting food, never mind thoughts and ideas into words that make sense to the web.

Every once in a while I'll get a blog entry ex machina (not even the right way to use that phrase, but I love it so suck it), like finding the ring. But mostly I've been opening a new entry to stare at a blank screen for a while. Then I go to People.com and Perez Hilton. And Pinterest to get lost for a few hours looking at pretty things. Did you know that the internet is full of distractions?!

As my thoughts are consumed with work worries, anything that requires an ounce of thought or creativity is eclipsed. I'm just going through the motions. Watching a million hours of Harry Potter. Doing laundry, dishes, anything to keep my hands occupied and my mind hushed.

It's like my falling hair is clogging the sink drain of inspiration. Deep, dude. That's so something I would have written on my notebook in high school.

The good news is that Des is on a major Mama kick. Just when I need it most. Despite the aforementioned anxieties, we ARE enjoying this beautiful summer.

He makes me laugh so much. And smile like it's plastered on my face.

Ridiculous joy. Worries magically gone.

I'll try to keep you posted, as much as I can. But don't blame me for being sparse. Blame The Man, man.

What Goes Around

2011-07-05T20:02:00.004-04:00

Tony lost his wedding ring in February 2008. He noticed it was not on his finger as he was letting Barkley out one day, and by that time he had already been to the store and shoveled the driveway. He retraced his steps, went back to the supermarket and searched the freezers (ice cream, of course). He tore his car apart. He borrowed a metal detector and searched the yard. Nothing. To say he was upset would be an understatement.

It was insured, luckily. The appraisal amount was based on the original cost. If he wanted to get the same ring, it would have been TWICE as much due to the increased cost of gold. So he just never got around to submitting the claim and getting a 'real' ring. Instead he got a $20 replacement band at a mall kiosk. Sleeping, showering, playing sports, etc... He never takes that thing off. It looks like any old ring. A plain silver band. But if you hold it in your hand there is very little weight, as if hollow.

It's just a ring, both the original and the replacement. In the big picture it's no big deal. But our bands are special. The ones we picked out together in the grown-up jewelry store, and put on each others' fingers the day we were married... those were our rings.

Every once in a while I'd ask Tony if he wanted to go pick out another one, and he always declined. I don't know if he was holding out hope that one day he'd find the original, or if it just bummed him out too much to really replace it.

This weekend we were both doing yard work. It wasn't on my To Do list, but it was beautiful out. Des went down for a nap and I wanted to be out in the air picking weeds. I started out at one end of the house and worked my way down.

This was a particularly long nap for Des. Again, I didn't have a plan for how much I wanted to get done so I just kept on going, filling 2 garbage cans along the way. When I got to the grass down by the end of the driveway, I noticed something metallic looking among the weeds and rocks.

A quarter maybe? It was dirty, faded silver.

I leaned in further... It was a ring.

Just sitting there on top of the soil. I picked it up thinking maybe Tony dropped his knock-off cheapo as he was down there earlier. No, this was much heavier. Solid and strong.

I RAN to the backyard where Tony was dumping one of my garbage cans. I threw my arms around him and said, "Give me your hand."

"I don't want to," he replied.

I was covered in filth and sweat and hugging him unexpectedly. I don't blame him for that reaction.

"Yes, you do." I put the ring in his hand.

"What is this?"
"It's YOUR RING."
"No it's not... no it's not."

He could not believe it. It took him a few minutes to be convinced. We hugged for a long time and cried. It wasn't just the rings. It's the way it happened.

3+ years of New England weather. Snow, rain, a near tornado just a few weeks earlier... Cars, lawn mowers, snow blowers. It shows on the ring. A few little dings and a tarnished finish. He doesn't think he'll get it polished. Those marks are like badges of honor.

Fake on top, real on the bottom.

He regularly wears both now. I joke that people are going to think he has sister wives. But I really think it's cute. He just loves his one wife supah extra!

Welcome back, old friend.

Too Old for This?

2011-06-24T20:57:00.004-04:00

A few weeks ago it was all about celebrating the pre-teen/tween days with our boys from Boston, NKOTB. Lastnight I went back to the era of my late-teens/early 20's to see the Bouncing Souls, a punk rock band from Jersey. Many many memories have been made listening to those guys and going to their shows back in the day. It was time to make some more memories... as old people.

Tony and I and our buddies Nick and Paul headed into town to grab a bite and catch the show for some nostalgic punk rock action. It was a weeknight, so we were livin' it up like the young people do!

When we got to the door of the Middle East and noticed what time the Souls were going on, we shuddered in our cardigans. 10:50? PM?? Oh dear god. That's, like, 3 whole hours after I usually change into my old lady nightgown. Breathe. Everything will be fine. I survived months of newborn wakings, I can get through one early morning after a late night.

We planned to grab a slice and a cheap beer at the Hi-Fi, a hole in the wall pizza place across the street. But as we walked in we were hit with the memory that the Hi-Fi is really only good for apres-show slices. Sober, you kinda have to choke it down. Blech. So we ventured down to the Asgard irish pub for good beer and decent sandwiches. Much better choice, senior citizens.

When we finally headed into the show we found the ultimate Souls fan, Dink.

Can't see the Souls without Dink. We chatted for a while, drinking our tallboy PBRs, and she made the time fly by. Before I knew it, the band was going on. I made it! I can't believe it! And I only yawned a half a dozen times or so!

The Souls were... amazing. I was jumping up and down like a lunatic. They're just fun and chill and not so serious.

Whooa-oh-oh! Great show. Great times.

It was worth it, but I'm feeling it today. It'll be a while before I go out on a weeknight again. Kids don't care if you're out late. I swear, they'll wake you up at 5am just to spite that crap.

For good measure, here's Des 'helping' with the laundry:

He keeps me young.

The Perfect Day

2011-06-20T08:38:00.006-04:00

At least it was perfect in my mind. And it was Father's Day. So I hope Tony enjoyed it too.

I let Tony sleep in yesterday, which means he woke up a little past 8am. I was.. ahem... not feeling well, due to a little too much fun at our friend's wedding the night before (Congrats Sarah and Adam! Such a blast). So I threw on Buzz and Woody and let the kid veg in front of the tube as I rested my eyes on the couch. Why yes, I am a fabulous mom, thank you.

It was a beautiful lazy family morning. We spent a few hours recovering, munching on breakfast, and getting ready for the day.

We had lunch at our favorite Mexican place. Des was a funny little angel, a bit of a change from recent antics in restaurants. Mad props to my boy for that.

And I enjoyed a little hair of the dog. It did the trick.

That afternoon we went for a long walk, as the weather was amazing, and we stopped for ice cream. Des enjoyed his first bites of a chocolate cone and kept coming back for more. So okay everybody, he is officially Tony's son now. I know you were all worried.

Later we filled up the kiddie pool and laughed as Des climbed in and out and splashed all around, giddy with excitement. I'd post pics but they're mostly nudes. And that would be creepy. What, the kid enjoys the fresh air on his nethers. Again.. his father's son.

Later after Des went to bed Tony took a bike ride down to the baseball field and caught up with old friends. I enjoyed some alone time with laundry and the Real Housewives.

We both fell asleep early with the windows open and a kitty purring at our feet.

We haven't had a day like that in a while. It was much needed.

Happy Father's Day, my love. You are the most incredible father I could have ever hoped our son would have.

Check out my Father's Day piece on the Patch. It was a fun one to write.

Fingernails

2011-06-16T21:09:00.017-04:00

Desmond does not have a lovie. Or a blankie or a binkie or whatever you call it. He has his thumb and... us. He's a snuggler in a major way. Every morning he'll cuddle in our bed with us for a half hour or an hour, as we're all still groggy and hesitant to wake up. During the day he'll often climb up on our laps for a snuggle break. And at night before bed it's snuggle-palooza.

It's not overly frequent or clingy, although he has his days. It's mostly just every once in a while. And when he's done, he's on his way getting into everything and tearing the house apart.

Instead of a blanket or teddy bear, as he snuggles he'll rub our fingernails. His left thumb in his mouth and his right hand stroking the nail bed of one of our fingers. He shares this habit with others, grandparents, aunts, uncles, his day care provider. He's an equal opportunity fingernail-rubber. It sounds weird, I know.

But no. Here's what's weird...

One of my most vivid memories of Desmond's birth was when they put him on my chest right after he came out. (Of course that would be vivid, right?) I looked him all over, beside myself with joy, completely fascinated that I grew this perfect person inside of me and now he was on the outside. But mostly I stared at his fingernails. For some reason I was fixated on them, like tunnel vision amidst all the chaos and excitement. At that moment, his fingernails were the most flawless, sublime thing about him. They meant he was okay, healthy, HERE in the flesh. And I rubbed them. Gently between my thumb and index finger, I squeezed each tiny pink nail one at a time. Unbelievably small, but so so strong.

Every time he climbs up on my lap, every time, I think about those moments right after he was born. Even as he continues to grow at such a feverish pace I feel like I can't keep up, every day he brings me back to that time when he was so tiny I could hold all of him in my arms.

He'll have his thumb in his mouth and if sometimes I'm not fast enough to provide a hand, he'll whine, reaching for it. And when he finally finds my hand, my finger, my nail, he rubs softly. As if reminding me that he's still my baby boy.

Always.

NKOTBSB

2011-06-13T21:15:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure whose idea it was so many months ago. But someone in my crazy family decided we should all go see New Kids on the Block and the Backstreet Boys when they come to Fenway Park. It would be a belated 30th birthday celebration for my sister Janet! And baby Guppy would also get to enjoy the sweet sweet sounds of Step By Step.

Oooh baybeh!

We somehow managed to get 12 tickets together, thanks to my savvy husband. The seats were great, the company was ideal, and the show was a blast!

The ages of our group ranged from 11 to 64 and everything in between. We still all had an amazing time. We're good like that.

I thought the New Kids were going to look all old and depressing. But they didn't! They were fit and fresh and on-key. They took off their shirts a lot, so we got a good look.

Nick was Hangin' Tough. The beer helped.

Bill was a trooper too.

And then it started raining. Many buckets. But it couldn't dampen our spirits!

My sister Maureen said that watching me and Janet sing and dance to the New Kids was like a flashback to 20 years ago. There were many flashbacks happening that night.

It was such a fun night, a great way to start the summer.

Many of these pics were stolen from my cousin Breanne, our gracious host for the weekend. Thanks Bre!

The Prodigal Blogger

2011-06-08T19:53:00.008-04:00

Obviously I haven't been very inspired to write lately. Blogging is a little like working out. Once you start slacking, it's easy to fall into a rut of excuses.

Have you seen this commercial?

"My mom called."
"Oh, that's a day right there."

Something pretty much exactly like that. Except I like when my mom calls. You get the idea.

But if you get into the habit of doing it a few times a week, it's a rewarding and fulfilling part of life. And then you stand up straighter, you sleep better, you feel a little more confident and assured in yourself.

I haven't been working out lately either. So the blog and my belly are a bit of a flabby, neglected mess.

For what it's worth, many other aspects of life lately are simply splendid. Perhaps I should share them! On this here BLOG, the sole purpose of which is to share the splendid (and sometimes not-so-splendid) aspects of life!

Here are just a couple...

Splendid:
Bra fittings. I got my first one in 5+ years the other day. I spent a pretty penny on 4 new bras in a completely different size than I was wearing (thank you pregnancy and nursing and drastic fluctuations in weight), but it was very well worth it. In the few days after I started wearing the new bras I was told by multiple people that I looked thinner. My sister said it looked like my boobs got smaller. This is a good thing. Smaller = perkier. Ladies, if you haven't had a fitting in a while, go get one. Especially if you've recently had a baby. It will change your life.

Sorry, no pics. Keep dreaming.

Not-so-splendid:
Tony's play-off beard. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the reasons behind it. Truly. But once the 'stache started growing over his top lip I got a little skeeved. And since then every once in a while I'll look at my husband and have to do a double take. Who is this man?

We're getting dangerously close to SF Giant's relief pitcher Brian Wilson territory:

Yeesh. Not much longer. Game 4 of the NHL finals is tonight. And on that note... Off to not work out.

More updates to come on showers, weddings, and the insane way my baby is growing like a weed and walking his way through my heart.

Happy Anniversary (a day late)

2011-06-01T09:36:00.008-04:00

Four years of married life. It's strange how something can feel like forever and yet at the same time like it's only been the blink of an eye.

I never thought I'd get married. I knew I'd find The One some day, but I assumed we'd be perfectly fine living Oprah-style, as partners in life without formal vows or the law getting involved. And we did that for a while. 7 years of playing house before we finally gave in to what our guts were telling us all along.

Each year that passes I grow more confident and content in our decision. It's not something that we needed, it's something that we wanted. Our wedding day was a time to show our family and friends that we choose each other. Every day in our marriage that's what we are doing... making the choice of us. As individuals and together, we are better for it.

It's an easy choice to make. Because my husband is the biz-omb. And he'd probably say the same about me. Maybe not that exact word. But something comparable. I strive to be like him and to be the best person for him.

Tony is level-headed, reasonable, take charge, funny, outgoing, kind. I am more the artsy type... impulsive, introverted, easily overwhelmed, nurturing, too smart for my own good. Somehow we level each other out. It just works. We are a match. Also, additionally, and furthermore... that boy still gives me butterflies. :smile:

And now we have this:

Can it get any better? We have a lifetime of adventures to find out.

Happy anniversary, my love.

Wedding photos by Jenny Frazier.

What Des Learned on Vacation v.3

2011-05-30T20:05:00.006-04:00

Trucks. Are. AWESOME.

He calls them "Dus." Dus is a general term for truck, car, golfcart, lawn mower, etc. Our gas grill has wheels and he calls it "Dus." So... He knows what he means though. And we do too.

On St. John our neighbors down the road were doing some construction on their house. There was a yellow digger truck in the yard, and the fervor with which he pointed and yelled "DUS!" at this thing as we went by each day... It was like Santa was driving it.

We walked down to watch it in action. The driver beeped and pointed the bucket at Des. If there is anyone better than Santa, it's that guy.

There's a beach called Maho Bay. It's always been a favorite of ours, but this trip it was a particular hit. Mostly because the street is RIGHTTHERE. You park next to the beach and unload. When you have a shitload of crap including 4 beach chairs, bags of toys, 4 towels and a Neat Sheet, a cooler full of food and drinks, etc., close proximity to your landing spot is a good thing. Also, being so close to the road, little boys who love a good "dus" can watch them drive by all day long.

Des knew how amazing trucks were before our trip. But down there he learned that trucks are awesome... as long as they're not too close.

This was our vantage point from the car ferry back to St. Thomas, as a cement truck backed on to the barge.

And here's video of Des watching a second cement truck back in to park directly next to us. Pay attention to the 22 second mark when he jumps in his seat, the following moment of shock, and then the end when he breaks down into tears.

I think that was a fitting end to the trip.

And yes, this was another goddamn vacation entry. Expect at least one more and then I'll shut my trap and get back to the interesting stuff like baby snot and poop and whatnot.

Happy Memorial Day everyone.

What Des Learned on Vacation v.2

2011-05-26T20:14:00.003-04:00

I don't know how or when it happened. But Desmond learned how to answer a simple question in a way that will crack up a room full of people. And himself. He is his father's son.

"Des, are you poopin'?"

You have no idea how many times we've asked him that, and it never gets old. Hours of hilarity.

GRUNT.

What Des Learned on Vacation v.1

2011-05-25T21:17:00.006-04:00

I'm still suffering from a major case of Real World Re-entry Depression, so the next few blog updates will likely be St. John/vacation related. You have been warned.

Desmond learned a lot while we were away. It was like we flew down with a baby and came back with a little kid. I always suspected that island was magic, but now I know.

We were able to capture many of his mad skills on the Flip cam. And I just keep watching these dozen or so 30-60 second clips over and over. Here are the first clips in the series of What Des Learned On Vacation.

We have a walker, folks.

I know I posted previously about his first steps. But since then the extent of his walking ventures were 1 or 2 steps, and then crouching down to a crawl because, you guys? That whole center of gravity thing is way more stable down there. And so are toys. They're all just laying there on the floor, might as well just get down there with 'em.

Somewhere between the beach and the villa, we saw a switch flip in his head.

So wait, I can hold 2 toys AND transport them from here to there while remaining at the same level the whole time? And then my Nana will loudly rejoice and shower me with praise?? Yes please!

For real, the kid likes to put on a show. This is a whole new side of him. He sees people psyched he's doing something, and he wants to do it over and over. Simply adorable.

Now we're home and he's walking all over the house and he's already taken a header off the coffee table with a nice little shiner to show for it. Home kinda sucks.

Before We Get Back to Reality....

2011-05-22T20:18:00.001-04:00

St. John, USVI 2011:

The more we return, the more I worship this island. Sharing it with our son and my mom was so much fun. They got it. Desmond was happy and loud, like a fish in water. Throughout the week I found myself overwhelmed with pride and relief (relief in a 'thank god he loves it and we can come back' kind of way) watching Des explore and dive in to so many new experiences. He rolled around in sand, he talked to the birds, he connected with his Nana on a whole new level. It was a beautiful, hilarious, relaxing yet exhausting week.

I'm not ready to be back.

North Carolina

2011-05-10T13:35:00.006-04:00

'Memba that time we went there? That was a trillion years ago, huh. It was fun.

Our adventurous flight down brought us to beautiful weather in the charming city of Raleigh. We spent most of our time that weekend in and around the neighborhood of our welcoming hosts, exploring trails and parks and enjoying the company on their patio. It was a lovely time.

Totally embracing Southern culture.

We also went to a kid's museum that was pretty much heaven on earth for little ones. Everywhere we turned there was head-exploding amazingness. Shopping carts and trains and water and trucks! YES PLEASE times a million.

Yes, we're at the train tables again, why you even gotta ask?

Before we headed down, I was most nervous about the flight (already covered in previous entry) and Desmond's sleeping. On our last weekend getaway he barely slept. He'd wake up at 2am, ready to go for the day, and then refuse to nap. That weekend is a blur, we were so exhausted. I was hoping, praying, pleading with the gods of slumber that history did not repeat itself.

We went in with a positive mentality. We would encourage, but not force naps. We would try to stick to his regular bedtime, but be flexible. I'm shocked to say it went much better than expected.

He pushed his bedtime a little later, which was actually kind of nice. He slept through the nights and woke at a reasonable hour. And he took at least one good nap each day. And if/when we let the 2nd one slide, he was not a complete melting mush of tears.

It's all extremely encouraging for future adventures. We're hoping that repeated exposure to different places and spaces will make him better at adapting to new environments.

Who knows, maybe next time he'll be Toddler Zombie Warrior from Hell. But we're just taking it all in stride.

First Airplane Ride

2011-05-04T22:03:00.003-04:00

We're home from North Carolina, where we were visiting cousins John, Abbie, and Carly. They moved a year ago and it took us this long to get down there, shame on us. So we finally got to see where they've been living this past year and hang out in their new territory. Dang, we miss those guys up here in New England. But they've made a nice little home in the South.

This trip was also a chance to get Desmond used to traveling. It's about a 2 hour plane ride to NC, so it's a nice quick trip to get us started, since we have some longer rides in our future. I had no idea how nervous I would be, even for this short get away. Visions of toddler tantrums in a tiny tin can airplane cabin ran through my head. Followed by the inevitable mommy meltdown, where I'd be pulling out my hair and raiding the drink cart for mini bottles of vodka.

I work with people who travel frequently. I hear some of them complain about kids on planes often. And I know I should be all "Eff 'em," but I'm not going to lie... I feared that we would be those people. The ones people would go home and tell their friends about.

"Oh my god, on the flight there was this kid who would NOT. SHUT. UP. Kicking the seat, crying, and the parents just let him do it! I mean, if you're going to take your kid on a plane, learn to control them, fer chrisakes."

Commence nail biting. And not sleeping. And pooping my brains out.

But seriously? I'm learning to just say it... Eff 'em.

Des had a few breakdowns, yes. On take off and landing mostly. The tell-tale grabbing of the ears told me the pressure was getting to him, poor kid. We did all the things they say are supposed to help... drinking out of a bottle (he doesn't take a bottle, so a sippy), sucking on a paci (he doesn't take a paci, so his thumb), eating lollipops (which he flat out rejected, who is this kid?). The only thing that seemed to help was chewing on snacks of Cheerios and dried fruit. But still. He screamed. And I silently apologized to all the passengers around us. And then I quickly stopped caring about anyone around us because my kid was in pain. And all we could do was try our best to help him.

So some people were inconvenienced in 3-5 minute increments a couple times on their flight. Amazing how much worry I put into it, and yet how easy it was to just GET OVER IT.

Oh, and then there was that time in the middle of the flight when he choked on a pretzel, freaked out, freaked US the hell out, and then vomited the contents of his stomach into my hands. So that was exciting!

But I have to say, when all was said and done, it went amazingly well. He was mostly in great spirits, slept for a good chunk, was kept entertained by the DVD player, and happy to sit in my lap. We could not have asked for anything better.

LOVING the aiport. "VROOM VROOM"... constantly. His lips must have been numb from all the vrooming.

Big mush.

Sleeping soundly after Aero-vomit-fest-2011. We were both a little spent.

More pics and updates on NC to come.

You Know It's Bad When

2011-04-29T09:08:00.003-04:00

... you have to pencil in your calendar "Bathe yourself, you gross person." And right above that is "Bathe your child, you negligent parent."

Happy Easter!
Happy Spring!
Happy Weekend!
Happy Happy!

Things are good. Great. Crazy. Madness. I think, let me check. Yes, all that. The boy is sick (of course), teething, and a miserable beast 50-75% of the time. But we're hanging in there. And enjoying the other 25-50% of the time when he's a delight to be around.

I'll be back with a vengeance next week. I pwomise. Sorry for the baby talk. Need sweepy time. And a cocktail the size of my head. Pwease?

I like turtles.

Dudes and Shoes

2011-04-23T16:18:00.003-04:00

Tony's shoe wardrobe consists of 1 pair of sneakers, 1 pair of dress shoes, and 1 pair of flip flops. He wears the corresponding shoes for the appropriate occasions, and he wears them until you can literally SEE THROUGH THEM, and then deals with weeks of his nagging wife pestering him to buy a new goddamn pair already, before he will even consider purchasing new ones.

The nagging wife also buys all of his shirts, pants, shorts, socks, undershirts, and underwear. But the nagging wife stops at shoes because she knows how he gets all "Waah I don't like thoooose" about his footwear.

I think the $10 off coupon to Sports Authority we got in the mail was the final sign that it was time to say bye bye to these pretties:

They have seen many miles, with many holes to show for it.

I went shopping with Tony, because, well.. god only knows what he'd come back with. And really, I'm not picky. Obviously I don't care that much about what he puts on his feet if I am often seen in public with him walking around in the above pictured monstrosities. But the poor guy just has no clue. He needs my help.

At the store I held up some of my favorite options... Adidas shell-toes, cool looking Pumas, skater like Converse. All shot down. He needs support and function and... not cute. Oh well, I tried. Of all the supportive, functional, affordable options, he went with these:

Totally fine. Totally Tony. At least there aren't any holes. Give it tiiiime.

I'm trying to break the cycle of footwear abuse with Desmond. Unfortunately, cute, affordable shoes for boys are ridiculously hard to find. This pair from See Kai Run (LOVE SKR, btw) has done us good, but they've seen better days. I'm on the hunt for a simple pair of sneakers with soles suitable for a first walker. I've literally spent hours online trying to find some. Sigh...

I guess now I understand why some guys just keep 3 pairs around.

Milestones

2011-04-19T20:15:00.002-04:00

Desmond has always been a bit on the slow side of average on the milestone charts, with everything except growth (he's a BIGGUN'). I'm not calling my kid slow, he's just... deliberate. There, that sounds nice. And we've been very patient, I think. Despite the constant reminders from Random Internet Mommies proudly regaling the world wide web that their child walked at 9 months! Spoke in phrases at 1 year! Got their masters right after Kindergarten! And that's awesome. Brag away. I would/have/will too. It's every mom's right.

Des will [insert milestone here] eventually, because he always does. Just on his own time. So even if we have to remind ourselves sometimes, we sit back and enjoy him as he is on this very day, without worry or concern or fear of judgment. We've learned how fast it all goes. (Holy hell, have we.) And we know what a gigantic, life-altering adjustment it can be moving from one step to another. Breast milk to formula, liquids to solids, rolling over, crawling, smiling, laughing, talking... I count it as my own little blessing that I have a few extra breaths to relish each stage.

But... There IS one big milestone we have been on the edge of our seats waiting for... His first steps.

He has been strongly standing on his own for weeks. We can stand him up in the middle of any room and he'll just hang out, standing there like a tree. If he feels the need to move, he'll lower himself down to crawl away. When standing, his feet are glued to the ground. The whole lifting a knee and stepping one foot in front of the other... Meh, not his thing.

Des turned 15 months old on Friday. Again, a bit on the late side for not walking yet, depending on who you ask. But hey, that's fine! Take your time, little man! Heck, if you can put it off until after our upcoming travels, all the better. These milestones are always super accommodating like that, right?

Well...

Yesterday, I was in the kitchen and Tony yelled from the living room, "He just took 3 steps!!"

Of course, I dropped whatever dish I was washing and ran the hell in there. And... nothing. He would not repeat the performance for mommy, no matter how much we prodded.

"I swear, I stood him up in front of me and he walked right into my arms!"

"I believe you, honey. It just FREAKIN FIGURES I wasn't here to see it."

But I'm not bitter.

Because today I stood him in front of me and 3 separate times, he walked to me. The screech of glee that came out of me was like nothing I've ever heard. Each time he did it, I'd grab him and squeeze him and go "GOOD JOB OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO AWESOME BAYBEEEE!!"

This voice was foreign to me. I was possessed by complete joy and I could not contain myself.

And tonight, it happened again, this walking thing:

And despite my subdued voice at the end of the video saying "Good enough, buddy," I assure you I am beaming inside with that same possessed joy as earlier.

Once the novelty wears off, the screeching may be more in panicked terror as he takes a nosedive off the deck. But I'm relishing in the moment now.

It was a big day, Desi boy. I'll remember today forever.

Haircut Round 2

2011-04-14T10:02:00.012-04:00

One day recently I looked over at Des and his bangs were hanging in his eyes. Then I noticed hair starting to creep down his neck and over his ears. Weren't we just here? Didn't we just have that whole exciting haircut experience, like, yesterday? Okay so I guess it was more like 3 months ago. But still. That seems really fast. If this is going to be an every 2-3 month thing, I might just have to buzz it like daddy's. Boys are so high maintenance!

If Desmond's hair had a little curl to it, he might able to rock the shaggy do, Jo-Bro style. But unfortunately it is stick straight (dad's genes, not mine), so it looks all raggedy and straw-like. My cute little scarecrow.

Off the barber we go!

We tried 2 different days, and the lines were ridiculous. When we went the last time in January it was on a weekday afternoon. So I'm sensing there might be an issue with the weekends. These suburban dudes and their grooming while surrounded by animal carcasses.

It was getting to the desperation point with his hair. I was resorting to hats, every day with the hats. So after a 3rd attempt at our regular barber, all with 30+ minute waits (no thank you!), we finally decided to try out the kid's salon, Snip Its. Over stimulation, over prices and all.

This experience was entirely different from the barber, obviously. But not in a bad way. We waited about 20 minutes, and Des kept himself quite entertained. For a while he just sat on my lap with his thumb in his mouth, taking in all the scenery: kids running around, bright colors, fun music. Once he got his bearings, he was off to investigate puzzles and books and games. He was really into this submarine-looking thing.

Whenever there's a button, he's there to push it... over and over and over.

When it was time for the haircut, he was not that excited about getting in the chair. We had another little boy next to us screaming his lungs out, so that may have made him nervous. And that kid had a lot of hair, poor guy.

So while the chair and the cape and the unknown lady with sharp things were all scary at first, he loosened up and did amazingly well. Just a few whines and only a little blood. The stylist nicked herself on the finger pretty good when Des turned his head suddenly. Hey, better her than him! Sorry lady.

His mood was helped by the dancing cartoons on TV! And bubbles! And animal crackers! And lollipops!

Good lord, the pops. If the stylist needed Des to look down so she could get the back of his hair, I just had to hold the pop down by his lap and he'd bend his neck down, his lips open like a fish reaching toward the sweet sweet sugary goodness. I couldn't contain the laughter.

Of course, he looks stinking precious with his new big boy cut. And after a few days, it's a little less Lloyd Christmas...

... and much more Desmond Jack

Opening Day 2011

2011-04-10T21:49:00.003-04:00

The home opener at Fenway turned out to be an amazing day. I was picturing drizzly rain, freezing temps, unruly crowds, and yet another loss for the Sox. And it was all the opposite. Except for the crowds, but that's to be expected.

The one slight snag in the day was when I ventured to the bathroom, which is always an experience at Fenway. I know well enough to get up from my seat when there are either 1 or 2 outs in the inning. If you wait until the inning is over, it's complete madness. So I headed down underneath at the appropriate time. Right outside the ramp from our seats is the women's room entrance, where I noticed two security guards standing. Huh, that's weird. Then through the crowd I saw one of the guards stop a woman trying to go in, and I realized it was closed. No worries, right? I'll just go to the next bathroom just down the way. HA! Yeah right. I knew right away I was in the shit, so to speak. I ran, as fast as one can run through a wall of people, to the next women's room. But it was too late. The line was like a snake down the hall. I was at the end, standing by the men's room where I saw guys walking in and out like it was nothing.

In my younger, drunker days, I would have just walked in to the men's room. But I'm a mom now. I guess that's what it was. I dunno, something kept me from doing that. I only had two beers in me maybe. I'm not gonna lie, and sorry mom but, I cursed. I cursed a lot. In solidarity to the woman in front of me ("What the fuuuuck"), in anger at the men chuckling at our plight ("Oh shut the fuck up"), and in frustration at the shoddy Fenway plumbing which closed that other restroom ("Shittastic!").

I'm sorry I just spent that much time talking about going to the bathroom. But hey, when a girls gotta go... And if that was the only snag in the day, I'd say it was a success.

I didn't bring the camera, so here are some phone photos of our day:

NERD!

Our seats. The plumbing may not be the best at Fenway, but they finally put in cupholders! Small miracles.

We're trying to look normal while covering our peanut-teeth here.

Tony's mom was nice enough to watch Des for us that day. And it was like old times, sitting in our regular seats, commenting on the game and the surroundings, all the changes they made to the park. The only difference being that we would point out all the babies and talk about how cute they were, while missing our own little one at home.

We'll bring Des one day soon. But it was truly special being there with my husband, just us.

And We're Back

2011-04-07T23:15:00.007-04:00

The sickness that hit my boys sure packed a punch, but it was merciful in its quickness. And whatever vitamins and prayers I threw out there in my own defense seem to be doing the trick. I'm in the clear so far, just hoping it stays that way. For now, we are all healthy and happy and sleeping ridiculously well.

Last night Des slept 12 1/2 hours. He was wearing new hand-me-down jammies from his cousin Katie. We think they were magic jammies.

To celebrate our new found health and the upcoming spring, Tony and I will be attending the home opener for the Red Sox on Friday. Baseball in 40-degree weather. Gotta love Boston. The Sox are off to a tough start. Maybe we'll get to see their first win of the season!

I have not been to a single game in more than 2 years. First I was pregnant and would have spent the whole game staring down people's beers with drool dripping down my lip. And then I had a baby I didn't want to leave the house. I really miss it. Prior to getting knocked up, I can't remember the last time a season passed without going to a game. Since I met Tony we've been to, ya know, a few games. Including almost every home opener.

Like this one in 2005:

And this one in 2008:

My memory suuuuucks. It usually takes a photograph or a painfully detailed narration to jog back the images. And even though I don't have an actual photo of it, I can clearly recall the night of one of our first dates in 1999, at Fenway Park of course. I can't tell you anything about the game other than Pedro Martinez pitched. We sat in the grandstand on the first baseline, in the middle of a row of about 20. I always hated those seats because if you had to get up, you were forced to ask 10-12 people to stand up for you. But it didn't matter because we stayed put. For 9 innings we sat in those uncomfortable blue seats, sharing memories of growing up going to games. And becoming best friends immediately. Who knew we'd share so many more Red Sox memories.

Like Camden Yards in 2001:

Ugh. That's an embarrassing photo.

And Toronto in 2004:

And San Francisco in 2004:

That's Pedro behind us. And that's where we sat the whole game.

And Wrigley Field in 2005:

The 2004 World Series clincher at The Pour House in Boston, just the two of us and hundreds of other die-hard fans.

The 2007 World Series final game of the sweep in Denver.

We've been on the Monster.

In the EMC club

And everywhere in between.

So nice of Tony's coworkers to congratulate us on the Big Board!

Even though it's going to be in the 40's tomorrow, and it will probably be my only game of the season, I am sooo looking forward to this. It will be nice to spend an afternoon with the love of my life doing something we have always loved to do.

GO SOX!

Conversations Overheard

2011-04-06T20:45:00.002-04:00

Tony: Did I tell you about that thing that happened yesterday?

Me: What thing?

Tony: That thing about the {insert topic here}.

Me: Oh. Yes you did.

Tony: And then how {continuation of same topic}.

Me: Ha, yeah. You told me.

:chewing:

:sound of a fork ticking a dinner plate:

Me: I love rehashing conversations we've already had.

Tony: Hey, if we didn't do that we'd barely talk at all.

Partners and Pals

2011-04-03T19:03:00.009-04:00

Tony and I are a good team. We've been together a long time. We're like a well-oiled machine in the habits of daily life, even prior to parenthood. And as non-routine occasions come up: traveling, late nights at work, health issues, etc., it takes very little planning and discussion to come up with a quick plan. We just kinda know how it goes. You do this, I'll do that, yup, go.

Parenting has tested the limits of our teamwork. But for the most part, it's been a pretty easy transition for Team Cawlamone. I feel a little douchey saying that. Like those women who pop back into shape immediately after childbirth and say, "What, like it's hard?"

We're not farting roses and love poems, but it just works with us, I don't know how.

It certainly helps that my husband is as present, hands-on, and eager a father as anyone can ask. I knew he would be that way, of course. It's just his nature. It's kinda like he's 100% dad and 25% mom. Which leaves me 75% mom. He's like Michael Jordan in his prime and I'm an aging Dennis Rodman picking up a rebound here and there, questionable hairstyles and all. He might disagree with this allocation. But that's how it feels to me sometimes... most times, really. Des and I are very lucky.

Maybe I take it for granted, but the strength of our team doesn't really hit home until one of us is out of commission. Most notably, Tony.

While Desmond is back to his old self (THANKFULLY), Tony has been hit by the same bug. Fever, chills, cough, cold, the works. It came on fast and hard, within a day he was out. He's been in bed most of Sunday, which is very unusual for him. Even when he's sick he usually pushes through, refusing to admit that anything can take him down. Unfortunately, this one got him good.

So I played the role of single mom today. I wanted to let Tony rest, so I took Des out on the town and we had such a fun day, but I am grateful this is only a temporary role. And I bow at the feet of all the full-time single parents out there. I don't know how you do it every day. You have some serious superpowers.

I can only hope this bug works itself through as quickly as it did with Des. And ya know... STAYS THE HELL AWAY FROM ME. Maybe wishful thinking. Zicam, do your thang please.

Get better quickly, babe. I'll hold us up until then. But our team is not the same without you.

*photo stolen from Jenny Frazier

**and p.s. read this week's article on The Patch.

Hunger Strike

2011-03-31T08:17:00.009-04:00

It's 9:00am.

Things I have tried to feed my child today:
- waffle
- hash brown
- banana
- blueberries
- peaches
- blueberry muffin
- yogurt
- fruit puree
- shredded cheese

Things he has eaten:
-

Things he has thrown on the floor:
- See: Things I have tried to feed my child today

Things he would rather do than eat:
- Cry, whine, scream, etc.
- Figure out the child safety locks on every drawer in the house

- Play with cat toys
- Climb the stairs
- Watch Toy Story 2 for the 1 billionth time

Des is dealing with another cold accompanied by a fever, hence the lack of eating. We usually can't keep up with his massive appetite. His daycare provider, who has been taking care of kids for 16 years, says she's never seen a kid eat like he does. So this hunger strike is foreign and frustrating. I'm home with him today. We're just trying to survive on juice, Motrin, and as few tears (from either of us) as possible.

Send healthy, happy baby vibes our way!

Water Works

2011-03-28T20:59:00.004-04:00

I have always been a bit of a crier. Certain people in my life are rolling their eyes right now thinking, "a bit?"

Commercials, movies, songs, take your pick. If you see me in the greeting card aisle approach with caution. I'm probably holding my breath and swallowing down the lump in my throat. Oh and that Folgers Christmas commercial with the brother and sister... Gives me the creeps and makes me cry. A more common example, Toy Story 3. After watching that movie Tony left me sitting in a salty puddle on the couch, squeaking "Why Andy? Why did you have to grooow uup?"

Events in which it would be exceedingly appropriate to shed a tear, such as a funeral or dire emergency of some sort, what do I do? I cry AND I laugh. Hysterical, nervous, snorting laughter. I'm sorry! It's an anxiety-induced response that I can't control. In the times when I can't choke down the giggles, I can usually mask it as sobbing with a strategically placed hand or tissue over the mouth. But seriously, there are some underlying issues here. I should probably have that looked at.

Parenthood has made the crying at the drop of a hat so much worse. In the first 6 months it was biological. I was just crying out the hormones like they were toxins. But now that things have settled in that respect, I'm starting to get the message... This is just how it's going to be now.

When I watch 'Intervention' from here on out I'm going to bawl my eyes out as the parents beg and plead and pray for their grown, addicted children to seek help. On the Amazing Race the other night, a mom watched her deaf 20-something year old son struggle repeatedly with a challenge, told him "You can do this," and I couldn't keep it together. And forget the country music station. That shit can just go right to hell.

It's like all emotions have doubled. For 40 weeks I grew this other piece of me, this vulnerable beating heart, and now I just let it walk around, prone to whatever perils and passions the world has in store. And it's my job to protect him and guide him and sometimes, to sit back and watch him struggle. I don't know if I'm fit for this.

Okay. I can do this.

Now I get what all those tissues are about. My husband. Always looking for a deal and planning ahead.

Slow Girl Buys a Smart Phone

2011-03-27T20:29:00.004-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I have joined the world of the Smart Phone. Hey, I'm like 3 years late to the party. But what else is new. I'm slow, and I'm okay with that. Technology in general tends to make my eyes glaze over. And I am cheap as hell. So it's a miracle I'm not still carrying around that sad, heavy brick of a phone.

I went with the iPhone. It never entered my mind to even consider an iPhone until they jumped over to Verizon. Then the wheels started turning. A few weeks ago I finally made the plunge and I haven't looked back since.

Learning the touch pad has been slow going. At the store, the clerk kindly set up my email on my new phone. He asked me to type in my email address and password. That was embarrassing. It took 10 minutes and numerous swear words. When I turned to Tony and said, "Will you just do this?!" he was busy with Des. So there I went, plugging and cursing away. The sales guy barely blinked an eye at my sailor mouth. Must be used to it with us newbs.

Other than the learning curve with the typing, which is A LOT better now, I'm loving it so far. Learning all the ins and outs is going to take a while. The only non-standard apps I have right now are Facebook, something that locates sexual predators in our area, and Instagram, as seen here:

Shockingly, my new fancy phone is full of this face. Just trying to remember these times, when he's not yet embarrassed by his tech-dummy mom.

Springing Forward

2011-03-22T09:05:00.010-04:00

Despite the fact that there were some major flurries yesterday in Massachusetts, the snow is pretty much gone today and we are ready for Spring. Like... really, really ready. I'm wearing a bright yellow sweater. I just need some pom-poms made of daffodils and I'm like a cheerleader for springtime today.

With this time of year comes a very busy schedule for us. Birthdays, holidays, first communions, graduations, weddings, showers, etc. All of the above and so much more is on the calendar.

On that note, to families with busy schedules I would highly recommend Google Calendar. You can share it among other Gmail members, so Tony and I are constantly updating it as things come up. We can both update and view it from work or home or on the road. It has been a godsend. It has also served as the final word in any scheduling snafus between husband and wife. As in, "I have a hair appointment that day, IT'S IN THE CALENDAR." End of conversation.

Ahh marital bliss.

Some of the more exciting plans we have involve traveling. In April we'll be heading down to North Carolina for a long weekend to visit John, Abbie, and Carly Grace. They made the move down South from New England last year and we've been meaning to visit for some time. Now we get to see what all the hype is about! We have a lot of catching up to do with those guys.

And in May... It's back to paradise. St. John, USVI

I know, I know. Every year I say we're going to try some place new, but then I start drinking heavily, growing a beard, and babbling, "We have to go back!"

Sigh... miss LOST. Miss LOST so much.

We wanted to take a real week-long family vacation. And we're jonesing for the beach. Plus with the baby we wanted it to be safe, comfortable, and familiar. So... Basically I don't even know why I researched any other place because I knew we'd be going back to The Island.

This time will be different. Obviously the baby complicates matters. To help with that issue, we invited my mom along. We're super excited to have her and to share our very special place in the world with 2 very special STJ newbies.

And here's the view from our villa:

Swoon.

The countdown is on. Luckily I'll be busy busy busy so I won't be driving myself crazy with anticipation!

Conversations Overheard

2011-03-18T09:11:00.003-04:00

Tony: I bought 30 boxes of tissues, just so you know.
Me: Umm... okay?
Tony: They are Kleenex brand. $23 for the 30 boxes, which is super cheap. I know you like the softness on your nose and they shouldn't shred as easily in Desmond's mouth.

Me: ...

Don't ask.

Just ride.

The One Where I Talk About Boogers

2011-03-14T19:27:00.005-04:00

Have I mentioned how brutal this cold season has been? Not so much for the adults in the household, but for the little one with the growing immune system.

It's always the same pattern. One week Desmond suffers through a disgusting cold, the next week he improves every day, has 2-3 days of seeming complete health, and then we'll hear a single cough in the night. The next morning, it's back to square one. The cold is usually the same too. It includes a cough that starts off dry and hacky and gradually gets more and more stuff behind it, until he's coughing up shrapnel. His face is swollen with congestion. And oh the snot. I could write a book about it. Dry green stuff, runny yellow stuff, the thin bubbles of mucus that inflate and then pop.

Wiping his nose is like trying to put a cat in a bathtub. There's flailing and screaming and pinning down of limbs. The mom and dad tag-team effort is the best way to go, with one person holding legs and arms and the other bracing the head and wiping. Obviously when it's just one of us this method is not possible. In that case we just kinda throw tissues in his general direction and hope for the best.

I used to be one of those people who found it off-putting to see a child out and about with a runny nose. Ha... haha. Oh sweet, naive me. Little did I know. To avoid that I'd either have to never leave the house or tape a folded tissue to his nostrils.

In all of our snot struggles, we have found one of the most vile and amazingly effective products out there. The NoseFrida:

Otherwise known as the SnotSucker

You literally suck your kid's boogers out with a tube. There's a filter in the middle so there's never any snot-to-mouth action. But still. It's a miracle I even purchased this without gagging. The reviews are amazing and we were desperate. And I could not be any happier that I pushed through the chunks in my throat and bought this thing.

It still takes a good wrangling to get him to sit still, but the process is quick and efficient. I'll admit it. I'm in love with the Snot Sucker.

I talk about it more in my latest column. Feel free to check it out.

Another Unwelcome Visitor

2011-03-10T19:29:00.002-05:00

One recent afternoon I was cuddling with Des on the couch as he drank his milk from a sippy cup, still groggy from his nap. When I heard something in the back... Neely in his cat box, maybe. Nah, it was different than that. Not so much scratching, but scurrying. Oh god. It was definitely scurrying, frantic and desperate.

"Tony! Neely's doing something."

That old familiar sound. There was a hunt in the house. Whether it was successful or not I would not know, because if you haven't learned by now, my eyes shut tight as soon as I recognize what's going on.

Tony quickly made his way to the back room as Des and I waited impatiently on the couch, our feet up off the floor. I was a little more used to this now, so I wasn't heading for zee hillz just yet. I knew the drill.

But then Tony came back sooner than expected, empty hands and an odd look on his face.

"Umm...."

"Oh god, what is it? Is something dead? Loose in the house? WHAT??"

"It's a bird."

"..."

"There's a bird in the closet. You guys should go upstairs."

WTF?

I grabbed Des and ran him upstairs. Of course there's a bird! Because if there's anything I hate worse than a mouse in my home, it's a goddamn bird ready to flap its wings in my hair and peck my eyes out and poop down my neck. I could think of only one thing worse (starts with B, ends with AT), and lemme just do the sign of the cross right now, because if that ever happens this house just might implode Poltergeist-style.

We waited it out in the bedroom. Who knows how long this would be. I knew Tony didn't have much of a plan. Why would he? Who prepares for this?

About 5 minutes later, Tony hollered upstairs, "It's okay now." I hesitantly opened our bedroom door to see Tony with the hood of his sweatshirt cinched tight around his face, wearing mismatched gloves and carrying a broom. My hero!

He walked me through what he did to get the thing out. To sum up, he pretty much just opened the back door and the bird flew out. My hubby has mad skills yo. He did manage to get a photo of that sucker, hiding out in the unfinished ceiling of our back room closet:

I know it's a little Sasquatch-esque, but do you see the profile? Way in the back? And the curtain to the left was what Neely was attempting to climb with his claws in order to get to it.

That bird is lucky it has wings.

Check check, one, two, ssssyphilis

2011-03-09T09:27:00.007-05:00

This thing on?

Hoooo doggy it's been cray-cray around these parts. I apologize for the lack of updates. I have a few entries in the queue, but actually sitting down and typing words and uploading photos is a comparible to writing a dissertation or running a marathon right now.

So here's a brief rundown of what's going on in life:

- Day job. Short staffed this week so I am literally buried. I can't see the surface of my desk or the light at the end of the tunnel. Send help and a reliable temp.

- Side job. Real writing takes a lot longer than this blogging shiz.

- Sleep issues. Still going strong with those. But guys, one day last week Des actually slept through the night until 6:45am! And there was a string of restful nights with no peeps and a reasonable waking hour! I would wake up each morning in another realm of reality. Colors were brighter, I could think and speak in full sentences, the world was at my fingertips! Unfortunately that is all a distant memory. With a single cough in his crib, I knew The Cold That Never Ends was back for another round. And now we are back in the zombie zone. Des is usually up around 11pm until 1 or 2am, and then bright and early at 5-5:30am (or earlier if he's feeling especially cruel).

This zombie is lucky he's cute.

Stick with me. I'll be back in full effect soon, hopefully well-rested and incredibly amusing.

Thing I Never Thought I'd Type

2011-03-03T10:37:00.007-05:00

I just sent this update to Tony via instant message:

des ate his first booger
there was a big one on his cheek, i could see it when i went in to get him from his nap
but i couldn't wipe it right away cuz he was crying, so i just picked him up and rocked him for a bit
then when he lifted his head the boog was gone and there was something in his mouth
he had his 'new food face' on and then swallowed it before i could try to fish it out
then he drank all his milk
so i'll just count that as his snack

Life. It's wicked glamorous.

Checking out J.Crew, playing with necklaces, and eating shnoogs. What?

A Writer's Worst Nightmare

2011-02-27T09:39:00.008-05:00

I'm writing for an online newspaper now. Have I mentioned that? It's a community-driven news source in which many towns have a segment, called Patch. They were looking for moms in my town to give parenting tips and share their personal experiences, putting a local spin on it. I include my own photos, so Desmond is pretty much the star. Tony also got a little cameo this week.

My column is published on Sundays. I clicked over to see the article on the front page this morning (eee!) and as I glanced at the tag line below the heading, I noticed something. Horror of horrors, a TYPO. And not just any typo, it was a stray word in the middle of a sentence that had no business being there. If it was a misspelling or grammatical error, I could almost forgive myself. But this caused the very first sentence, the intro that everyone will see before even clicking on the column, to make no sense at all.

If I had accidentally exposed a nipple on a Christmas card, I would have been less embarrassed.

Frantically, I emailed the editor requesting he make the change. But something tells me his priorities are less aligned with mine on a Sunday morning. It's been an hour with no response. I keep refreshing the site to see if maybe he made the edit without replying to my email.

Oh the shame. My only excuse is the house full of sick, non-sleeping people I'm living in. My mind just aint right. I'll be spending the rest of the day internally chastising myself in a dark room.

For all to see, here is the writer's equivalent of a nip-slip:
My column
Main site for our town

**Edited to add... The editor fixed my slip up. Although there is another minor grammar mistake further in, I should be able to sleep tonight.

Never a Dull Moment

2011-02-23T20:08:00.007-05:00

Before the whole Sleep Strike 2011 began, we had another eventful evening recently.

In the middle of the night, Tony and I were abruptly awakened by Neely. It was not unusual that he was in our room, as he is free to come and go as he pleases. But we typically can't hear him. He is a dainty fellow, light on his feet and silent. You can't hear him coming unless he lets out one of his soft little "mew"s.

So a muffled "MREWEOW" followed by the raucous scatter of kitty claws all over the wood floor was a bit of a shock at 1am. We both shot up in bed, trying to figure out what was going on. Were we dreaming? Is it the baby monitor? Tony turned on the light.

Thinking back to Neely's recent conquest and not seeing where he was, I said, "Is there a mouse?"

:squeek squeek:

Uhh... YES THERE'S A FRIGGIN MOUSE OMGEEE.

I stood up in the center of the bed and hugged a pillow to my face. I didn't want to see it or hear it or know of it's existence. LA LA LA I'm not here right now! Tony jumped down to scope out the situation. Neely, in stealth kitty hunter mode, had the intruder cornered under a radiator vent.

"CAN I GET TO THE DOOR?" I whisper-yelled to Tony.

"Yes, go now!"

I booked it to the bathroom, shut the door, and stood on the toilet. You can never be too safe.

I heard some further scerfuffle in the bedroom... kitty scatter, "Neely, move!" :squeek:... and then finally :CLAP!:

...

"It's okay to come out now."

Tony had caught the mouse in a wooden box. Neely eyeballed the box and followed him like he was holding a juicy steak. Tony took the mouse outside... to the car and then drove it to a lovely farm where it could roam free for the rest of his days. Not really. I don't ask questions. The mouse was out of the house, never to return (god please), and that's all that mattered.

We realized after some time to reflect, that Neely likely hadn't found the mouse in our room but had brought it up from downstairs. It was a gift, a gesture of thanks, and maybe a little trophy of his own.

Thanks Neel. I appreciate your mad skillz. But next time, can you get us a nice gift card to Applebees or something? Much love, cat.

And There It Is

2011-02-21T19:01:00.007-05:00

I knew it was coming. I dreaded the day. And now it's here. Karmic retribution for speaking publicly about Desmond's amazing ability to sleep. It's been 2+ weeks of zombie hell with no end in sight.

It started off as waking up earlier than usual. His typical 6am rise went to 5:45, then 5:30 (oh how I long for those days), 5... 4:45... 4:30. There were a couple mornings of 3:45 and even a 2am morning, just for shits 'n giggles. Up for the day! Let's play! And cry and babble and whine, and do ANYTHING but SLEEP.

We tried everything to get him to go back down. Rocking vs. soothing in the crib, milk vs. no bottle at all, crying it out vs. taking him in our bed. White noise, soft music, TV. Nothing. Worked. When he was up, he was up. And so were we.

Then he got yet another cold. I've lost count of how many colds he has had this winter. He kicks one and then another strain creeps up in a matter of days. The congestion makes it tough for him to be laying down for long periods. So his pattern lately is to go down at his usual time of 6:30pm, sleep soundly until 11:15pm, and then wake up like there was an alarm blasting in his crib. He'll fall asleep just fine in my arms, but if I put him down, no matter if he's awake or asleep or drowsy, he screams bloody murder.

I finally decided to just lay down and hold that heavy kid in our bed. And that's where he's been staying from 11:30 until the morning the past few days. Tony and I will pass him back and forth to try to give the other some rest. He wakes up every hour or so, giving us a little time to catch some z's. But restful, it is not.

Naps? Who knows. He could go down just fine, he could fight it with all his might. In those cases, it's usually a complete meltdown for all involved and then this:

I'm currently reading a book on this topic, because lord knows we're doing a hundred things wrong through this process. But I can't keep my eyes open long enough to get through a whole chapter.

I don't think we'll start any of the sleep training techniques until he's over this yucky cold. We're not totally heartless. But the mood around the house has been a little frosty. Tony and I are either totally silent or speaking in monosyllabic phrases. We're cordial to eachother on a good day. Sleep deprivation is a cruel mistress.

Goodnight everyone. Sigh...

My Secret Hoarding Confession

2011-02-20T09:54:00.005-05:00

Remember that post about my tendency toward throwing everything away? I realized a few nights ago that there is one area of my life in which I lean more towards the habit of hoarding. If not a true hoarder, then I'm at least a disgusting slob when it comes to... my nightstand. Right now on the table by the side of my bed there is:

- a lamp
- a box of tissues
- 5 different half empty moisturizers (What? They're all for different things!)
- 2 books
- Nintendo DS
- cell phone
- a water bottle
- a glass of water
- 2 bottles of pills
- hair elastics, headband, and bobbie pins

Don't even ask about the drawer. In it there is a slew of skin, nail, and hair maintenence items, a few magazines, some mail, receipts... basically the contents of your standard Junk Drawer. Also on the shelf underneath there are even more hair items, some empty shopping bags, and a few more books.

On Tony's nightstand is a bottle of water and a remote control. Sometimes he tries to sell me some retail space on his table. But I always find a way to fit another little something on mine with some clever shifting.

I have tried to purge items from this nightmare of a nightstand. But it all seems to find it's way back. Truthfully, besides the contents of the drawer which can easily be closed and forgotten about, I do use everything on the table on a daily basis. And our upstairs bathroom, where some of these things would more appropriately belong, is limited on space and storage.

Basically what I need is an old fashioned vanity, with a mirror and round make-up lights, a cushioned bench, and a silver hair brush. I'd sit at it in a pink robe with feather trim and shoulder pads, wearing my headbands and moisturizing the day away.

I'm picturing something like this:

I also have a strong aversion to wire hangers. So I'm not too far off.

Mountain Mama

2011-02-14T19:12:00.008-05:00

I apologize for the long break between updates. We've been away for a long weekend with family to the mountains. Lots of fun in the snow, gorgeous scenery, and hanging out by the fire with the people I love most.

It was a blast. Some much needed time away from reality.

I went skiing for the first time in my life. Although it wasn't so much skiing, as it was hysterical, out of control zagging down a mountain, and then falling every 30 feet. Cuz that's how you stop, right? By violently hurling your body, your skis, your poles, and the last stitch of your pride into the snow?

Tony said as he was watching me, there were times he could hear my thoughts saying, "OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT."

Hey, at least I looked the part.

Here's me on the chair lift, mere seconds before I panicked, stayed on too long, and finally flung myself off in a frenzy, forcing the operator to press the big red IDIOT button and halt the lift for everyone. Aint I precious?

Despite my assertions that I would never put on a pair of skis again, I will keep trying. I want to like it. I want it to be fun. I think I CAN do it. Eventually, with lots of practice. The first time was just... wow. A clumsy, discouraging, painful disaster. Tony said I surpassed his expectations. Not quite sure how to take that. Either I did better than I thought, or his expectations were very, very low.

He spent the day on a snowboard, his first time as well. And he was like a graceful swan, the bastard. Sometimes it's really annoying how quickly he picks things up.

We have a chance to go to a smaller, more klutz friendly mountain in a few weeks. We'll see how it goes.

Nature

2011-02-07T20:39:00.000-05:00

The theme of the weekend was nature. We barely left the house, but it still came barreling in on us from all sides.

It started early Saturday morning when we had some visitors.

Lots of visitors. I think 22 was the final count. We had seen these guys before. They're regulars in the neighborhood.

They're quite entertaining. As long as they stay off the roads and stop giving me a heart attack with all the cars honking.

Later that afternoon we had an ice/rain storm. Because you know, Mother Nature hadn't bared her teeth in a few days. She wanted to make sure we were still paying attention. We listened to the sounds of sleet and freezing rain against the vinyl siding, combined with booming thunder and flashes of lightning. It was actually kinda nice from inside the house.

Early Sunday morning as we slept soundly in our beds, the echos of Mother Nature were making themselves known again. In the form of a HUGE BOOM that shook the entire house. Being woken so suddenly, we were totally confused. I assumed it was another clap of thunder. Tony's thoughts went to the large trees and the potential for branches falling on the house. He ran into the baby's room to make sure he was okay, like the always-thinking and quick-on-his-feet parent. At least one of us is. All was well and Des barely noticed the noise.

The boom was so loud we couldn't figure out where it came from. Tony grabbed a flashlight and began looking all around outside the house. I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call the cops with the flashlight beaming in a dark house. Maybe they thought burglars wouldn't be so conspicuous. Tony finally came upon the culprit... a massive ice dam from the upper part of the roof had fallen and landed on the roof below. The next morning he assessed the situation.

Luckily the roof was not damaged.

Apparently these giant blocks of ice were very heavy. Strong husbands are useful in these situations.

And still later that day, we had another brush with nature, inside the house this time. I couldn't get a photo because I was busy standing on a chair with a broom in my hands, living up to every cliche in the book. Yes, we had a mouse.

This house is no stranger to mice. Despite there always being at least one cat around, they love it here. Although since the renovations, they mostly keep to the walls and ceilings. We can hear them scurrying around. I don't mind. As long as they don't make their presence known in any other way whatsoever. So when Tony caught sight of one running toward the play room, out came the traps. And yes, I sleep just fine at night, thank you very much. No bites yet, but I'm sitting here twisting my mustache and rubbing my palms together like a true villain. That little bugger cannot resist the power of a dollop of peanut butter much longer...

Winter Blues

2011-02-04T10:16:00.004-05:00

We have been battling an illness over the past few weeks. And by 'we' I mean our poor sweet baby, while Tony and I are popping Zicam like they're breath mints and doing everything short of buying him a pony to keep Des from being miserable. There's nothing sadder than a sick kid, especially when it's your own. After a long day, Tony and I lay in bed talking about how much we wish we could be sick for him. How there should be an invention that can suck out whatever parasite is poisoning our son and inject it into ourselves. How we would very happily provide a cozy home for any virus, as long as it stayed the heck out of our baby.

Dear Geniuses in the Fields of Science and Smart Things, Please invent said mechanism on behalf of parents everywhere. Shanks.

Des had his 12-month well visit with the pediatrician and we found out that he's, well, not so well. At least, not well enough to have his scheduled shots. He had some congestion and a slight cough for a while, but he was eating and sleeping fine and his spirits were up. So we didn't think much of it. But after the doctor spent an unusually long time looking into his ears, he told us that he did in fact have a bad cold and an ear infection. Happy first birthday little dude!

We're on our 2nd round of antibiotics, after the first round didn't quite do the trick. Giving it the old 1-2 punch. For those that are not aware, antibiotics produce amazing works of art in diapers, let me tell you. There was even one when I considered yelling to Tony to grab the camera, but I thought better about achieving that new low. Not yet, mama... give it time.

Despite some understandable bouts of crankiness, Des has been a trooper. Even through the ear pain, fevers, and yucky congestion. We go back to the doctor for the 3rd time next week, in the hopes that everything is cleared up and he can finally get his shots.

And for those that are interested in this kind of stuff, Desmond's 12-month stats are:
Height: 32" (95th percentile)
Weight: 24.4 lbs (70th percentile)

The doctor says he'll be tall and lean like his dad. And that he will "tower over mom." I'm hoping for 6'5", 230 pounds, laser rocket arm. But really, as long as he's healthy it doesn't matter. Right now, health is what we're striving for!

Feel better, budzo.

The Gift of Gab

2011-02-01T09:20:00.008-05:00

If Tony wasn't around, this would be a very quiet house.

He talks a lot. To Des, to me, to the tv, on the phone. He sings songs, real and made up. Having lived together for 10 years, I'm certainly used to it and have never minded. It keeps me entertained.

Just lastnight, as I was doing the dishes and Tony was feeding Des, he said to nobody in particular, "Mmm, blueberries. Nature's... blueberry."

WHAT? I almost peed myself.

It must be a genetic thing because his sister is the same way. When she was our roommate I would hear her talking to the refridgerator as she prepared her lunch. It's fascinating to me, this gift of gab.

So far, Des seems to have taken on my traits when it comes to conversation and general disposition. He babbles a whole slew of syllables and screeches if the mood strikes him. But for the most part he's a pretty quiet kid. Calm and content. He has mastered The Serious Face. He's satisfied to listen and observe, and then he'll pipe in every once in a while with something exceedingly witty and intelligent. Yup, just like mom.

Taking him to stores and restaurants is an easy experience. He sits back and looks around most of the time, pointing at interesting things as if to show his approval. He never really says anything back when the waitresses say hi or tell him he's cute, but he will stare at them until they are out of plain sight. Creepy kid.

I bite my lip a little when I think that Desmond might be more like me in this area. Not that being quiet in itself is a negative thing. But I don't want him to feel shy or insecure, as I have felt in the past. I don't want him to think that he is anything less than the most amazing kid on the planet. Tony is the opposite of me... outgoing, charming, confident. He makes people feel comfortable. Sure he talks a lot, but people also go to him because they know he'll listen.

It's early yet. Des's personality is still forming and coming out in adorable snipits. I'm hoping that he will take on more of the friendly, outgoing personality traits of his father. If not through genetics, then just from exposure to things like "nature's blueberry."

Edited to add photographic evidence of The Serious Face:

photo stolen from Jaclyn S.

Neely

2011-01-29T09:47:00.008-05:00

This is Neely-cat. Named after a Boston sports legend, with the slick moves to prove it. Around 11 years old, featherweight, sweetheart.

Likes:
- Empty boxes.
- Ribbon, string, tinsel, or anything else that hangs all playful-like.
- Collecting and eating tumbleweeds of dust in the corners of rooms.
- Puking partially digested dust bunnies on laptop bags, couch cushions, curtains, and pretty much anything that cannot be easily cleaned or wiped down.

Dislikes:
- Being attacked or touched from behind. Brings back flashbacks of his early days in Nam (i.e. adjustment period with brother Loki-cat, RIP).
- Being ignored. To prevent this he will climb up on your face until his whiskers snake their way inside your nostrils.
- Toddlers learning to climb. :shudder:

Since Loki passed away in November, we've tried to pay special attention to Neely. There's never been a time in his life when he's been without another animal around. But he seems to be adjusting to the concept well. He's put on some weight (in a good way) and come out of his shell.

Having lost 2 pets (Barkley and Loki) in a matter of 1 year, it's an adjustment for us as well. And knowing how quickly the times passes, we want to be sure the precious time Neely has left is happy. So we've given him more freedom, allowed him to explore parts of the house he hasn't before, and even let him sleep with us at night.

The last part has been a challenge. He's fine throughout the night, sleeping soundly at our feet. Although for the first few nights if I had to get up to use the bathroom, I'd forget he was there and fling the covers off of me, sending Neely flying off the bed like Super Cat. Oops! Now I know to check for a snoozing kitty before getting out of bed.

But come 4am, I feel Neely start to creep up from the foot of the bed. He's a little cat, so it feels like his paws are fingers pressing on my legs, then my hips, chest, until he's all up in my grill, purring like a lawn mower in my ear. I'll put my arms up in an attempt to block him. I've even picked him up and placed him on top of Tony, who generally appreciates cats more than I do. (And who also manages to sleep through all of this business, of course.) But these defenses do nothing to thwart Neely-cat from his ultimate goal... Waking and choking me with his fur and love.

These early morning shenanigans have not subsided, nor has my frustration. But I'm trying to be a sport about it. He just needs some time. We all do, I guess.

But seriously? Go bother your father, cat!

Desmond's First Year Slideshow

2011-01-27T14:45:00.003-05:00

For your viewing pleasure, if you have a spare 9 minutes in your life:

Songs:
"First Day of My Life" - Bright Eyes
"Three Little Birds" - Bob Marley (orig), covered by Elizabeth Mitchell
"Glow" - Donavon Frankenreiter

I still can't watch it without crying. But I'm a sap like that. And ya know, it's my kid 'n all. My baaayybeee, I mean.

The best part of watching this with everyone at Desmond's party was cousin Katie pointing and yelling "DES!" at every. single. photo. That girl is a hoot.

Tony and I had so much fun making this. Enjoy!

First Haircut

2011-01-22T13:56:00.007-05:00

It's been obvious for a while that Des needed a haircut. The bangs were past his eyes and the back was starting to cascade down the collar of his shirts in a very mullet-like fashion. It cannot be tamed, no matter how many passes with a comb I take at it. And unfortunately, the hairclip for little boys has not been invented yet. I'm putting a request in to the creators of the European shoulder bag to get on that.

I've been reluctant to cut it. As you know, I'm not usually sentimental. But I kept looking at his hair thinking, that's the same hair he had the day he was born. And when he was growing inside my belly we had no idea he'd come out with this full head of dark hair. Over time it gradually got lighter, as we figured it would (Tony's hair was white-blonde as a kid and mine has always been on the fair side). But it's still the same hair from my teeny tiny newborn baby boy.

It's not like I made a big fuss the first time we cut his fingernails, saving the little clippings in a baggy with the date on it. I promise you I did not do that. But hair, nails... they're technically the same thing, right?

So before his birthday, as visions of his mop-top covered in blue frosting danced in my head, we decided it was time to suck it up and take the plunge.

We originally planned to take him to one of those haircut places for kids, with the rocket ship chairs and TVs playing cartoons at every station. We even drove up one afternoon. I went in to ask what the wait was and it was like Dr. Seuss exploded in there. It was a 30 minute wait, with dozens of overstimulated kids running around, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Instead we took him to a local barber that Tony went to as a kid. We pulled up and I was all excited that they had one of those red, white, and blue twirling barber poles. Ooh so kitsch, I love it! Walking in, the vibe was slightly... different.. than the other place. Let's just say that instead of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck on the walls, there were other animals... heads of them.

"Hmm... this is a lovely room of death. Look Des, Bambi!"

Okay, so I would get past the carcasses. And the pro-hunting, anti-liberal bumper stickers everywhere I looked. And the oddly grandma-esque display of porcelain teacups badly in need of dusting. Where am I? Did I just enter some alternate universe? Maybe the deep south? But for some reason, it all worked. Tony grew up here, Des was totally at ease, and I felt like this was the right place for his first haircut. Whoa.. was I feeling alright? This really is another universe.

Some before shots of the do:

After a short wait in the room of death, they were ready for him. Des was in good spirits and I was hopeful that this would go well.

He was a little hestitant at first. But he stayed still and went with it.

Finding his happy place.

This is a face that says, "You guys are gonna sit there and let a stranger do this??"

Then he got a little fussy. Then a little more. Until he wanted none of it anymore.

And the barber brought out his secret weapon.

A toy jeep with a dead deer strapped to the front that played "Sweet Home Alabama." The deer lifted his little head and sang along with the chorus. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

And by golly, it worked. He was totally entranced, and more importantly, still. So the man with the sharp scissors could do his job without any bloodshed.

It was my job to keep pushing the button after the song stopped.

A few snips here and there, and he was finished. Not his finest work, the barber admitted. But it did the trick. He looked like such a handsome little man!

And as is tradition for first timers at this fine establishment, Des got his photo taken reading a Playboy.

It's a bonding moment every mom dreams of sharing with her son.

All in all, it was a surprisingly fantastic experience. Nothing like I expected it to be. But I don't know how anyone could have predicted such a scenario.

Desmond's 1st Birthday Party

2011-01-19T19:08:00.009-05:00

Warning this entry is extremely picture heavy!
On that note, all photos are by Scott Barbick. Editing by me (so don't blame Scott for that!).

Desmond's first birthday was Saturday January 15, 2011. What a day. It was an overwhelming, joyful celebration for our little one. It took a lot of work by me, Tony, and many other hands, but I think we pulled it off. Everyone had a great time (at least I hope so!), including the birthday boy... as long as he had a veggie stick in his mouth.

Truth be told, Desmond is not into crowds. And perhaps for future birthdays we'll keep it a little more low key. But we needed this. For him, for us, and for our whole family. We never had a christening or dedication or anything like that. So this was really a celebration of our first year as a family. We made it. Phew.

I made this banner with my own two handsies. I hope he likes it, cuz it will be the center piece for many birthdays to come.

When we realized how many people would be attending, we took a hard look at our home. I half debated renting a hall. But instead, we took our open concept living space, removed a lot of the furniture, and replaced it with hall-like tables and chairs.

It worked out very well. We'll definitely be using that idea for future parties.

To the surprise of everyone (and yet no one), Auntie Jaclyn flew in all the way from California for the ocassion. And the tears flowed like wine. Auntie wouldn't miss her "lovie's" day. Des will appreciate that one day. For now, we appreciate it for him, in spades. Love you Jac!

4 generations of Salamone men.

So many presents. Billy and Katie helped out.

Katie enjoyed the gift portion of the party very much. Also, the lollipop eating portion. And the portion where she entertained everyone with her hilarious charm. So.. the whole party.

Sorry, Tony... your quick wit is no match for Katie's hilariousness.

Desmond was not a huge fan of the cake. At that point, he was pretty done with his party. But we even tried the cake the day after, in a calm environment. He still was not having it. I don't think he liked getting his hands all squishy, and the idea of putting the squishy stuff into his mouth didn't seem to cross his mind... despite EVERYTHING else in his wake getting in there one way or another.

I have such gorgeous nieces.

What a day. What a year. Happy birthday, Desi boy.

One

2011-01-16T10:52:00.005-05:00

So this happened.

What a day. What a year.

Full recap and photos to come. Today I am sitting on my couch and not moving for many hours.

Best piece of advice I can give to anyone having a milestone birthday for thier child: Hire a photographer or ask a friend to take photos. Other than the ones posted above, there is maybe 1 or 2 other pictures on our camera. Knowing there was someone else there capturing the moments made enjoying and hosting the party so much easier.

On that note, I have a sofa that needs tending to.

Happy birthday, baby boy.

Almost One

2011-01-13T21:33:00.007-05:00

In two days our baby turns one.

I've started this entry a half a dozen times. The first time it was "In 13 days..." and it's gone down from there.

I'm not sure what to write or how to feel. A part of me is sad that he's not a baby anymore, blah blah, boo hoo. And a part of me is super excited about what's to come. Then another part of me is thinking it's just another day. What's the big deal?

Maybe the fact that there's a billion things going on around us, including the party-planning which is a whole other entry, is the reason I'm not an emotional mess about it.

But even without all the chaos... I'm okay. Because our Desmond is this amazing adventure. Every day he shows us another side of himself. Something new he can do or say or recognize. I want to tell him to slow down, let us breathe a second and soak this all in. But I'm also the one encouraging him to move forward. To take his first few steps.. which omg, he was SOCLOSE tonight. Tony and me sitting on the living room floor facing eachother a few feet away. Both of us still in our work clothes, waiting until after Des goes to bed to change for fear of missing a single moment. We'd reach out a finger for him to hold and he'd step on over to each of us, back and forth, giggling away. He gets such a kick out of all his new tricks. Boy, we do too.

I will miss his babyness. The cuddly mush who just wanted to be close all the time. Who didn't need to GO and DO and EXPLORE constantly. Who was totally comfortable laying on daddy's chest or in my arms. And his head fit so perfectly in my elbow nook. I'll miss his little baby sighs and squeeks and nuzzles. Yes. I will miss all that.

But I am looking forward to more of the adventure. This year has been like a slow hike up a mountain. Every pass comes with challenges and rewards, but the higher we get, the better the view. I don't know if there's a peak to be reached, but it's more about the climb.

I look forward to many more nights like tonight. An ordinary Thursday, the three of us on the floor, giggling and proud and happy. That's what this year was. Just a pile of love.

Happy almost birthday, little man. So far, sooo good. Your mom and dad love you beyond words.

The Perils of Parenthood

2011-01-10T21:21:00.000-05:00

It's happened a few times. Des will get overly excited or throw a frustrated fit, and fling his limbs all around as I'm holding him. Inevitably I catch a stray arm or foot to the face. It's the head that really gets ya. Oooh man. It doesn't even phase him, but I'm left with a face that is resonating like a gong.

The latest time it left a lasting impression.

Pardon the horrible lighting and nosehairs and fugliness.

Nothing like a nice punch to the face with a toddler skull to start the day. Just a little love tap for momma. Thanks buddy!

Post-holiday Slam Fest

2011-01-07T15:00:00.005-05:00

There was a nice little lull there for a while. Sure the holidays are busy, but at least it doesn't feel like I'm being pulled in every direction. Now the post-holiday SLAM is in full effect. Between being crazy busy at work, caring for an almost 1-year-old, planning a big bday bash for an almost 1-year-old, swim classes, doctor appointments, not sleeping at night (me, not Des)... It's gonna be a busy month it seems. I'm apologizing right now if the blog is lacking, both in frequency and content. I'm going to try to keep it up. I have much to say.

Just when I think the day can't get any crazier, I get a visitor at the office:

And all is right with the world.

Thank you dear husband and beautiful son for being the bright spot in my crazy days.

2011 Resolutions

2011-01-04T19:23:00.003-05:00

Happy New Year everyone!

2010 was the best year of my life. So that was neat.

Now it's time to look forward with the obligatory 2011 Resolution Post.

I haven't made a resolution in years. Many major changes happened in our lives (getting married, buying a home, renovating, having babies). We've made huuuge leaps forward in our home and our family. This year, I'd like to take some smaller steps to focus on myself. As selfish as it sounds, I guess.

There are general areas I'd like to improve upon, some of which are super cliche (lose weight, wicked original!). But I've come up with some concrete, attainable goals within the broader concepts.

Physically
Goal: Run at least once a week.

I used to run, ya know. I'd never call myself a runner. But I ran a few miles 2-4 times a week pretty religiously for years. And I hate running. I can play any sport for hours at a time, but running for 5 minutes is torture. I have physical limitations (flat feet, bad ankles), but I think it's more a mental aversion. Even when I'm listening to music, it's quiet and still and boring. The scenery changes but it's all the same. I wanna kick and swing and jump. Run? Just run? Yawnzies.

But I did it because it was easy and fast. I could open my front door and GO. That's the kind of exercise I need right now. And when I start running, everything else kinda falls into place. I have more energy, eat better, sleep better, lose weight. I just have to put one foot in front the other.

Educationally (Is that even a word? I didn't graduate from college, people.)
Goal: Meet with a counselor, take a class or two.

I have about half the credits needed for my bachelors. It's not an ideal situation, especially for someone who was always considered a smaht kid growing up. But I'm not going to be ashamed of that little glitch on my life resume. I know who I am and where I am, and I am ridiculously happy. A degree is just something I want. Also, I like school. I may take time off here and there, but I'm never going to give up until I finish. I don't care if it takes until I'm 80.

I used to get into these frantic states of, 'OMG I have to quit my job and quit my life and go back to school full time before it's TOO LATE!' At this point in my life, I am much more comfortable with the idea of taking it slow. I'll get there. Just gotta chip away. Now's the time.

Creatively
Goal: Create 2 pieces of which I am proud.

I consider myself artistically inclined. But I can't call myself artistic unless I actually DO something with it. Overall I want to produce more... lotsa stuff, mostly crap I'm sure. But you have to create a lot of crap before you get something decent. Two pieces or 'art' that I can look at without cringing is the goal.

These are small, seemingly easy to reach objectives. I'd like to work toward these even in the face of setbacks and adversity. In the past things have always come up. Injuries, health issues, pregnancy, time and money constraints. Ya know.. LIFE 'n stuff. But these kinds of things are always going to happen. So I guess an additional resolution is to not throw my goals out the window when something unexpected arises.

There you have it. Some heavy duty resolutin' up in here.

I'm excited to see what 2011 has in store!

Goodbye 2010

2011-01-03T20:43:00.004-05:00

Closing the books on the best year yet.

I will miss it. Is that weird? To miss a whole year? I really will. But I'm embracing 2011 and the future with open arms.

Bring it on.

Tomorrow... resolutions. Everyone loves hearing about other people's resolutions, right? Get psyched!

Pretty Tree

2010-12-31T09:34:00.008-05:00

We were a little nervous about getting a Christmas tree this year. We had visions of Des, in his new mobile and curious state, ripping off branches and ornaments like a baby Godzilla. We imagined him splashing in the tree water and ingesting smashed up bits of glass ornaments. I don't know where his parents are in these scenarios, but we always fear the worst.

We thought we'd have to put a big gate around it. But the first week it was up, he barely even noticed it. He'd give it the side eye every now and then and go back to playing. So we held off on the gate.

Gradually he started to get more curious. He'd point to it and smile. Each time I'd say, "Pretty tree!"

Now when we carry him down the stairs to the living room, he points to the tree and says "Bshdee!" We walk over, plug in the lights, and his face lights up right along with it. He'll reach out and delicately touch the needles with his fingertips.

Certain ornaments catch his eye and he'll cradle them in his palm. When he's on the floor, he crawls over to the 'bshdee,' points to one of the red bows, and bats at a dangling Santa.

He's always gentle, even hesitant at times. But we encourage him to explore.

If he's upset or sad, we say "Where's the tree?" Inevitably he'll stop crying, turn around and point, forgetting what the fuss was about.

Our short little lopsided tree is not going to last much longer. It's drying up. Despite our frequent watering and sweeping, there is a constant ring of needles on the floor underneath. We're holding on as long as we can. I will be so sad to take it down.

I'm partly dreading the undecorating process, which.. ugh. How tedious and depressing is that. But I am also going to miss Des's face every time we walk down the stairs. His little fist pointing forward and his squeels of delight. I am so afraid our boy will miss his tree. He's at an age where he understands many words and he babbles with the best of 'em. But of all the syllables he has spoken in his short life, none have been as clear or joyful as "bshdee."

Pretty tree, I was not kind to you at first. But you are a part of what has made our first Christmas as a family so special. For that, we thank you, bshdee.

Photo Update

2010-12-27T20:32:00.005-05:00

So.

Hi.

Been a while.

My lazy, pajama-clad self is not able to put these past few days into words yet. Once I get back into the swing of using my brain and forming sentences and making any kind of sense in written form, I'll post a proper recap of our first Christmas with Desmond. Or maybe not. Maybe it was all too magical, wonderful, warm and sweet for words.

Anyway... For now, I give you photos.

Auntie Jaclyn came home. She did not let go of Des for many hours.

He was totally fine with that. As were we.

There was Christmas Eve.

And Christmas morning.

And Christmas day, which was apparently so crazy I don't have a single photo of it.

Then there was snow.

Shoveling and 'blowing' of said snow.

And watching of said shoveling and snow blowing.

Then someone came to the house, took our baby, and replaced him with this toddler looking kid.

He will be 1, as in year old, in 19 days. Which is a whole other can of worms.

I am off to bed for a good night's rest, during which I will hopefully become bathed, skinny, and totally ready to do actual, real life, grown-up work this week.

I am in trouble.

Love and Laundry

2010-12-22T10:26:00.005-05:00

My husband does many daily chores very well and unrequested. Dishes, trash, cooking, cleaning, food shopping. He picks up and drops off Des from daycare. He feeds him dinner and has ours ready when I get home. I recognize that he is the best and I am super lucky. He's not just my soul mate, love of my life, best friend... he actually does stuff.

All I ask is that he stays away from the laundry.

The other day I went upstairs to fold a basket of baby clothes that I had washed the night prior. But the basket wasn't where I left it.

"Tone, where's that load of laundry that was up here?"

"I put it in the wash."

"Dude, that was CLEAN."

"Oh. I was just trying to help."

Bless his heart.

Back in the day Tony used to have a sock drawer. But not your typical sock drawer. It was full of single socks, randomly strewn about. Every morning he'd fish around for two socks that were close to the same color and style and put them on.

Matching socks? Sorting by color? Folding t-shirts? HA! He laughs in the face of such nonsense.

I am not anal about many things. But laundry is one of them. I actually enjoy the mindlessness and simple organization it requires. Call me a weirdo, but there is nothing better than pouring a glass of wine, putting on an episode of Hoarders, and folding a load of fresh laundry. Who's with me?

The cheese stands alone.

So This is Parenthood

2010-12-18T19:08:00.009-05:00

Lastnight, myself dressed in a pretty purple dress and my handsome husband in a well-tailored suit, we attended my company's holiday party at an amazing venue in Boston. The food was delicious, the view was absolutely breath-taking, our table of friends were hilarious. We dined and drank and danced the night away. It was a memorable and classy affair.

Tonight is memorable in a much different way. I am in my robe as I type this because the clothes I was wearing are covered in baby puke. I'm used to the little smelly spit-ups after bottles. But this was waaaay different. Something far more evil.

Halfway through Desmond's pre-bedtime bottle he swatted it away. He sat up and there was a familiar gurgling sound... A sound I had heard for the first time a few hours earlier, right before he vomited every morsel of food he ate that day all over the kitchen table. The realization of what was about to happen only gave me enough time to shift him so that the projectiled puke did not hit my face and neck. But most everything else within a 3 foot radius of the rocking chair did not fair so well.

I stood there frozen, holding Des. Both of us covered, as was the area rug and wood floor in front of us. I called down to Tony.

"Everything alright?" he said.

"Umm... NO."

Remarkably, Des was totally fine after. I put him down on a clean square of the floor. And he crawled over to his toys, babbling away and leaving a trail of yuck in his wake.

Tony got to work on the floor and rocker. I stripped down to my underwear before I grabbed Des to change him. After I had already been half naked for 5 minutes, I noticed the orangey-pink goo dripping down my cleavage.

Lastnight I was sipping champagne at the top of the city. What a difference a day makes.

Des went to sleep just fine, as he normally does. We'll have the monitor on high alert tonight and keep an eye on him tomorrow. But we're hoping it's just a fluke tummy ache.

I can't get the smell of partially digested sweet potatoes and formula out of my nose. I'm off to go shower in bleach now.

You have such a pretty face, you should be on a Christmas Card!

2010-12-16T14:59:00.003-05:00

I didn't want to post this until we mailed them. And since we have sent out the bulk of them already, here is the final version of our 2010 Christmas Card:

Despite some of the challenges that come with photographing babies, we were able to get a few options to choose from. And by few, I mean two. So I'll go ahead and show you the other version as well:

I'm still second guessing whether I should have used that one. But the amputated left hand really got to me on this version. Ultimately, I'm happy with the final product.

Obviously none of the viable options included Des actually looking at the camera. For some reason, he goes all droopy face when he sees the lense. You'd think he'd know the drill by now.

I love seeing all the photo cards come in from family and friends. So I was super excited to be able to participate this year. So excited that I sent most of them out well ahead of Christmas day. I hope I'm not coming down with something, cuz that's not like me at all!

Reverse Hoarding

2010-12-14T21:01:00.004-05:00

Hello. I'm Sarah, and I am a Reverse Hoarder.

That's not a real term. I made it up. I don't know what else to call it.

And I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. I just don't like having a lot of stuff around. If it's useful in every day life, then I'm fine with it. We do have quite a lot of stuff that we use often. We're not minimalists or neat freaks. We have our fair share of 'clutter' around. But everything you see in our living space serves a purpose.

I also hate the idea of putting things away that I might need in the future. So I tend to... not... do that. If I don't think I'll need it soon, it's gone. We don't have a whole lot of storage in our home. If there's a closet with things in it collecting years of dust, I get physically and psychologically ITCHY.

Spring cleaning and closet purges are kind of a high for me.

Sometimes it works against me. With clothes especially. If I'm having a fat day and something doesn't fit right, I throw it out in a blind rage. A few weeks later I'll wonder where a certain collared shirt is and remember that fat day. Damn. I lost a lot of good stuff during my pregnancy before I finally came to my senses.

Having a child has certainly tested the limits of this phobia, if you want to call it that. Desmond's closet has to be changed out every few months because he grows so fast. I'm saving most of the things that are too small for future use by potential offspring of our own or of family members. But stained or ragged items get tossed.

During one of these change overs, I found Desmond's hospital-issued cap. The one with the blue and pink stripes that the nurse put on his head right after he was born. It was teeny tiny, just fit in the palm of my hand. I thought, "He's never going to wear this, nor would any future kids." Tony watched me as I reached to put it in the Good Will bag and his eyes were daggers. He looked at me like I was a monster. Hell, maybe I am. But at the time I thought it was totally reasonable to throw that cap out. It’s just a piece of fabric. My love for my son or my memories of the day he was born do not change based on the presence of this piece of fabric.

But I get that some people don’t think that way. My husband, for one. He put that cap away in a place I will never find in one of my purge frenzies. He didn't need to do that. I understand that it's okay to save things like that. And if I do, I will not turn into one of those people from the show Hoarders.

I guess I tend to make quick, rash decisions when it comes to getting rid of things. So my recent solution is to start a bag of potential good will items. Keep it off to the side for a few months and then go through it again. It's kinda like shopping in a way.

I went through it just the other day and, oooh! A powder blue argyle sweater would be great at work! Why would I throw out this gem? I figured it out as I was reaching for some files and noticed a faint brownish tinge in the armpit area of the sweater. Ummm.. GROSS.

So that was a setback in my reverse hoarding therapy. But I'm working on it.

Oh Christmas Tree

2010-12-11T17:06:00.007-05:00

Okay, so the whole Christmas tree ordeal started off a little rough. But all's well that ends well. Here are some photos of the process, from the ugly beginnings to the beautiful final product.

Our sad panda of a tree. I totally choked under the pressure, guys.

Tony's quick fix. Way to salvage it, Salamone.

Let's get to decoratin'.

Halpin'.

See Desi, the ashtray ornament Daddy made in the 2nd grade goes waaaay back here.

Final product. Blue lights and an angel that almost doubles its height. Not bad though, right? I think we pulled it off.

And I'd like to note that Tony's ashtray ornament made it front and center. I did not realize it until going through these photos. I'm so full of the Christmas spirit, I just might leave it there.

Maybe.

Christmas Gram

2010-12-09T19:50:00.008-05:00

I am big into the holiday season. About a week before Thanksgiving I start to get all giddy with anticipation. I'm not the kind that goes nuts decorating or shopping or wearing jingle bell earrings. I'm more the kind that sits on the couch with a cup of cocoa and a warm blanket, listening to Christmas music and looking at the tree. Ahh the music, the movies, the nostalgia. This time of year gives me the warm and fuzzies.

I think it also takes the edge off the slow descent into the depths of New England winter. But let's not talk about that right now.

And can I take a moment to thank the lord baby jesus for online shopping? Because if I had to go near a mall during this time, my feelings on the holidays might be leaning a little more toward the dark side.

So far, introducing Des to his first holiday season has been a blast. He helped with the lights:

We watched my favorite holiday movie together.

He is a fan. How could you not be? 'Oooh what's a Christmas Gram, I want one!'

We attended our town's tree lighting ceremony on a super chilly night, which was quite a shindig.

Des was not that psyched about the fact that Santa came in on a Fire Truck. Little boys with sensitive ears are not keen on fire trucks. But it was a fun night.

I bought Des a new pair of PJ's just for Christmas Eve. They may be Christmas PJ's or they may just be 'winter scene' jammies. Jaclyn will decide in t-minus 12 days.

There are still some items left to do. For one, Des does not have a stocking yet. I have my eye on one. I guess I'm waiting for a sale at Pottery Barn.

We also have to bring him to see Santa so he can tell him what he wants. Today I had the TV on and Des discovered Pillow Pets. I have a feeling they will be on his list:

Oooooh...

Just a Tree

2010-12-07T15:33:00.003-05:00

Maybe it was a bad omen. On the day we planned to get our Christmas tree, Tony dug the tree stand out of the shed and found that a critter had eaten through the bottom and built himself a nest in it. Thankfully, the nest was unocuppied. But this meant we needed a new stand.

Target, typically a one-stop-shop for anything and everything, was all out. So Tony found a tree stand at a local drugstore. When he brought it home I thought he had mistakenly gotten a stand for one of those table-top trees. It was tiny. But the box said that it could hold a tree up to 7 feet tall with a 4 inch wide trunk. Um. I guess we'll see!

We all bundled up and headed down the street to pick out our tree. We looked around for all of 5 seconds, and Tony picked one up for inspection. Sure, looks fine. No major deformities, holes, or rogue branches. A symmetrical, healthy looking tree in our price range.

But wait, we can't just get the first one we see! Let's look around a little. After all, it's freezing out and we have a baby with us. We can totally take our time.

We look at a few more. Too skinny. Too fat. Broken branches. Crooked. Then we forget which one was the first one we looked at. We are lost in a sea of trees. They all look the same. I am overwhelmed and over it. Tony picks out another one and I say, "Fine, that one's fine. Pay the man and pack it up!"

This is why Tony does the grocery shopping. I'd go all Supermarket Sweep in the store, throw anything in the cart and get the heck out of there. I'm easily flustered when it comes to making decisions.

As the tree is wrapped up and strapped to the top of our car, I notice it's a little on the small side. I justify that it only appears dwarfed because it's on top of our big SUV. But the car ride home was silent, as I mentally convinced myself that it was the ugliest, homeliest looking tree I've ever seen. I tell Tony of my reservations and he responds in calm, reasonable ways like, "It will look beautiful when we get it all decorated," and "It's just a tree."

And I respond in true lunatic fashion.

"It's not just a tree! It's Desmond's first Christmas tree ever! This is the focal point of our home for the next month! My happiness during the holiday season relies on the beauty of this tree! Just a tree?! As soon as we get home we're throwing it in the fire pit. Then we're going out to buy a new one. Just a tree."

"Okay," Tony says. "The fire will smell nice."

We both knew we were not going to do that. We would just deal with it and make it work. But sometimes I have to vocalize my irrational, over-the-top reactions to things. Usually in a high-pitched tone with my arms waving. Then Tony says "Okay" and we go about our lives. Love and marriage, like a horse and carriage.

I continue making snide remarks about the tree as Tony lugs it up the stairs. Aren't I swell?

He gets it into the living room, sticks it in the stand, holds it up for me and I start cracking up. It's very short. Hilariously short. There's a big hole in the side. The tiny stand makes it look even smaller and unstable. I took photos but they don't do it justice. You'd all think I was being a snob because it doesn't look half as bad in pictures. So you have to take my word. The tree was ridiculous. But at that point it's funny to me. We will make this tree work.

Tony, god love him, decided that he would build a platform for the tree to sit on. I try to tell him not to bother, it's no big deal. See? I can be uncrazy sometimes. He says it will take him no time at all. I think he thought of it as a fun project.

"Four minutes. Time me."

The platform was perfect. It gave the tree an added 5 inches in height. We put the skirt on top of it and you can't even tell it's there. And it serves an additional purpose of raising the tree up above the baseboard heat, so we'll save this to use for years to come.

That was a nice positive among many little mishaps along the way.

Then we put the lights on. Tony bought new LED lights this year. Our old ones were getting pretty dim. When he plugged in the new lights I noticed a slight blue tinge to them. Blue lights? Oh god, my Nana would be mortified. They're also super bright. So I remove one strand, separate them a little bit, and move them in more toward the trunk. Better. But the blue is still there... oh, the blue.

Here's a crappy cell phone photo that I sent to my sister with the text: "look! we're protestant now!"

No offense to any protestants out there...

We haven't gotten around to fully decorating it yet. I'm hoping that will solve all the problems, make it look fuller, taller, and less... blue. I promise to post pictures of the final product. And to not take it all so seriously.

It is just a tree. And it's going to be beautiful.

Conversations Overheard

2010-12-05T20:06:00.007-05:00

Tony: I'm going up to bed, you coming?

Me: Soon. I gotta do the dishes, bottles, laundry, all that bullshit.

Tony: It's not bullshit, it's our life!

Sigh... So true.

Then he helped me do all that bullshit. Life isn't that bad.

The Baby Monitor Chronicles

2010-12-02T19:32:00.007-05:00

If Tony and I ever write a book about our experience as parents, that's what it will be called. Don't steal it! It's ours! Copyright Cawlamone.

My husband has gotten some flack from my side of the family for always having the baby monitor on him. We'll be at a family gathering and Des will be napping soundly upstairs or a couple rooms away, and Tony will have the cordless monitor hooked on to his pocket like a beeper. On high volume and vibrate mode. If conversation gets a little loud, he'll put it up to his ear and step out of the room.

My family has a lot of kids around. They figure if the kid is screaming, you don't need a monitor to hear that. This thing with Tony and the monitor.. it's funny to them.

It's not that I'm not the Concerned Parent. Honestly, if Tony wasn't around, I'd be the one with the monitor in my pocket. But since I know he's always there, listening, on his toes, ready to go, I get to sit back with a glass of wine. The baby monitor is kind of a metaphor for our relationship.

We never sprung for one o' dem fancy shmancy video monitors. I know myself. I know that if we had the capability to watch our son every second that he slept, I would sit and stare at that thing for hours. Make sure he was still breathing. Search for patterns in his movements. Call my mom when he rolled over, "Oh my god, it was sooo cute!"

No. Our monitor is actually a hand-me-down (shocker!), 5 years old or so, but it does the job just fine.

Tony, who's a bit of a nerd in case you haven't spent 5 minutes with him ever, recently set up a video monitor in Desmond's room that we happened to have lying around. I believe he bought it years ago when we were going on vacation and he wanted to keep an eye on his cats. Yes.. I married that guy.

So ten months into the parenting thing, we got the video monitor set up. It's really only useful during his morning nap, when the sunlight in his room is just so, because this thing does not show video in the dark. But in the few weeks we've been watching that one nap, we have learned so much.

Like, before Des goes to sleep he'll chat with his monkey friend while kicking his legs up in the air.

Much of the time he sleeps with his butt in the air:

No real surprise. I did that a lot a child. Still do. Don't judge me.

And he actually naps 5 or 10 minutes less than we ever realized. When he wakes up, he sits and and chills out for while, gathering his thoughts and recounting his dreams, then he makes a peep.

Oh, and he bites on the crib rails. I don't know how we missed the teeth marks, but we see them now.

All of this has made me realize... I want a real video monitor. It might be the worst idea ever. For both of us. Like, maybe we should think about taking a step back instead of sucking ourselves further into the vortex of Everything Desmond. But I got a taste and now I want more.

Santa?

Coming Through, Part 4

2010-12-01T11:54:00.004-05:00

In July 2009 while in my first trimester of pregnancy, I started having unexplained seizures. This is part 4 of the series that recounts that time. Read the previous entries here:
Intro
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

And I will stroll the merry way and jump the hedges first
And I will drink the cool clean water for to quench my thirst

I started the last entry noting how difficult it was to write due to memory loss. That issue also applies to this entry, perhaps even more so.

After I awoke from the first overnight in the hospital to the news that I had experienced two more seizures in my sleep, I was completely shocked. I sat up in bed and stared into space, deep in thought. The TV may have been on, and I think I feigned interest for a while. But I had so many questions running around in my head.

What if they can’t figure it out? What if this keeps happening? What are these seizures doing to the baby?

And most importantly, what do I look like when I’m having one?

Such a superficial and silly concern, right? But damn if I don’t still wonder about that. Truthfully, I don’t want to know. If it was ever captured on video, I’d destroy it without a second thought. I’m 100% positive that it’s horrible and frightening and disgusting. But there’s a sick side of me that’s a little curious…

Every once in a while that morning I’d look over at Tony and ask, “Did it really happen again? You’re not just effing with me?” I’m sure it wasn’t annoying and tedious at all for him to answer those questions over and over.

Okay. So what the hell now?

My neurologist, Dr. K, decided it was best to give me a mild sedative for now. This is not usually recommended for pregnant women. But the goal was to calm the brain activity in order to stop the seizures any way they could. At the same time she put me on an anti-seizure medication called Keppra. It’s a fairly new drug and the effects of taking it while pregnant are not well known. The few cases that are documented show that there should be no ill effect on the little one. At this point, the potential damage from another seizure was a higher risk to me and the baby than either of these drugs.

Dr. K was positive and confident that this was the way to go. But all I heard was:

“You’re unborn child will probably be fine while you take this.”

“Not much data with pregnant women.”

“We don’t really know.”

:shrug:

What were we supposed to say? ‘Oh heck no, I’m not exposing my kid to that POISON, I’ll just sit here and let my brain wig out some more.’ Or maybe, ‘Okay, that sounds totally awesome, let’s do this! I’m so pumped!’

We just had to go with it and see what happened.

For the next few days I was continuously monitored. They had a “sitter” in to watch me while I slept, which also allowed Tony to get some rest (although I’m sure he got very little). They ran more tests and repeated tests that were already run. They glued electrodes all over my scalp to record brain activity (EEG), and I wondered aloud if they could see all the useless celebrity gossip I have going on up there. The glue from the EEG stunk like paint primer, and I was rocking the futuristic Medusa look for a while.

I was really out of it. People came to visit, like Jenny and Danielle. They brought me books (which I still need to return, what an awesome friend I am). I don’t remember the two of them sitting down, if I was still rocking the stinky hair plugs, or if we had any conversation at all. But I remember seeing their beautiful faces as they stood at the foot of my bed, and feeling happy and grateful they were there.

One whole day passed without a seizure. Then another.

I remember the headache. I had one for days. I could barely open my eyes, it ached so badly. I thought maybe my brain had been fried. Turns out that when they drain spinal fluid during a lumbar puncture, sometimes the wound doesn’t heal properly and you get what is called a spinal headache. Just a note to you all: Don’t ever get one of those. My skull felt like it was too small and it was squeezing my brain like a vice. The treatment was to lay flat on my back for a while, not a difficult thing to do. And caffeine could help too, something I had been avoiding due to my delicate condition. My sister got me a medium iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts, and by god that was the most delicious beverage I have ever had in my life. I don’t remember much, but I will always remember that iced coffee.

The headache went away finally and I felt like a new person.

Another seizure-free day passed. The results of the EEG came back. They saw some minor activity in one area of my brain. So they would do an MRI, focusing on that area. Depending on those results, I could possibly go home soon. The fact that I hadn’t had a seizure since the first night was a good sign that the medicine was working.

The results of the MRI were good. The activity was there, but it was minor and nothing to be super concerned about at this point. On day 6 of my hospital stay, I could finally go home. It was a long, exhausting week. I was glad to go home, but I was also nervous. I’m sure Tony was even more scared. There were still no real answers as to why I had the seizures or if I would continue to have them. So for now I would go home to rest, where my husband and family would monitor and take care of me. And we would go back to the hospital next week to follow up with the doctors. All I could hope for was an answer and a solution. But the journey and the search for those things would be much longer than I expected.

To be continued…

Thanksgiving Weekend Recap

2010-11-29T16:01:00.010-05:00

Phew, it's been a whirlwind holiday weekend. What day is it? Monday? Jeez, even today flew.

Thursday was Desmond's first Thanksgiving! Full of family, food, and football. Just as it should be.

As is tradition, we first attended dinner with Tony's family:

Even Jaclyn was there! Virtually, at least, as you can see by the laptop on the side table. We Skyped with her for a little while. It was good to hear her voice, kinda like she was there in the room with everybody.

Des tried a little of everything for his first Thanksgiving feast. Turkey, squash, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce (his fave), carrots, stuffing. He loved it all.

After dinner we headed 45 minutes south for drinks and desserts in Braintree. Des was a little cranky by the time we got there. And my family can be somewhat... overwhelming. It's all the kids. The zillions of kids. And loud people. And scary men in suits who grab babies out of their momma's arms.

I promise, Uncle Dickie is harmless.

Such a fun time. Overall, Des did very well. He even stayed up past his bedtime and wasn't a total basket case about it. We got home around 8:30, and it felt like midnight. Exhausting day.

Friday was a whole lotta nothing. Just what we all needed.

Saturday was another crazy day. Desmond's daycare provider has a Christmas photo taken with all the kids every year. So we got him gussied up and took him over to her house. Lots of kids, parents, and one photographer/baby wrangler.

Saturday night we attended a friend's birthday party, which meant another trip down to the South Shore. The theme was grunge, and we took it very seriously:

It was the first party with friends where kids were encouraged to attend, so there were a bunch of little ones running around. It was crazy to see these people who we used to hang out with at punk rock shows chasing after babies now. Crazy and awesome. I wish those kinda hangouts would happen more often.

Then Sunday was another lazy day. Des napped for a total of four hours that day, which is waaaaay more than usual. A few times I made Tony go check on him to make sure he was still breathing. But all was well. The kid just had enough of our shenanigans and needed a day of rest.

Now we're in full holiday swing around here. I am beside myself with excitement for Christmas!

Thankful

2010-11-24T19:05:00.009-05:00

It's pretty obvious what I'm most thankful for this year, right?

My adorable, hilarious, curious, growing, healthy baby son.

But there are many other things too. I'm thankful that Des slept until 6am this morning. Sleep. I'm very, very thankful for sleep.

This guy. The raddest person on earth. And I get to share a bed with him. Visual!

I'm thankful that Jaclyn comes home in less than a month for Christmas. And that she is realizing her dream of living where it's warm and there's a beach outside her window, and I'm thankful that she is coming home for good next year.

I'm thankful that Janet married Nick and that they live less than a mile away from us. And they will never ever leave me!

My mom and my sisters. They are so much a part of who I am, they are like my limbs. See this leg? It's Maureen. The other one is Deanna. Janet is like both of my arms. My mom is my head, because it seems that in everything I do (especially lately) I think, 'What would my mom do?'

Our amazing families.

Things, jobs, homes, money, vacations. They're nice. But they come and go. It all means nothing without the people you love.

Sorry to go all sappy on you like that. It's the holiday spirit. Talk to me mid-January and I'll be back to cynical and sarcastic.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Christmas Photo Outtakes

2010-11-22T20:18:00.005-05:00

This weekend we attempted to take a photo of Des for our holiday cards. It was a team effort. One of us would take the picture, and the other would hop around like a lunatic trying to make the him smile. We learned some things. For one, Desmond enjoys early 90's dance fads, such as The Running Man. Skankin'-it-up is a close 2nd. Hip hip! We also learned that the attention span of a 10-month-old is about as long as my pinky finger.

We took two thousand eleventy guhzillion and one photos. There might be one or two that will work. Maybe.

Most of them look like this:

Dudes, this dog is WACK.

He's behind me, isn't he.

How's the hair, is it okay?

So over it you guys.

I'm seriously considering another photo shoot this weekend. Tony better get his dancing shoes on.

p.s. Check out the blog of our friend Chris, of Chris and Jeannie, parents to adorable little Logan. It's called Dad Gut. Adventures of fatherhood, health, fitness, and family. It's already a daily read around these parts!

Wish List

2010-11-19T20:13:00.007-05:00

Both Christmas and Desmond's birthday are coming up and we're already getting a lot of "What should we get the baby?" requests from family and friends. Instead of responding, "Umm, ya know, like toys 'n things?" I figured I should come up with some concrete ideas. So I created a wish list on Amazon.com for him.

The problem is that instead of adding things each day, I keep taking things OFF the list.

I hate having too much stuff around. Also, Des doesn't need too much stuff. Living simply is one of the concepts I hope to instill in him. It will help him to become more imaginative with what we have. As it is, he's perfectly content to play with an empty box. Or a few tupperware lids. Or a broom.

Seriously, he played with the broom for like 45 minutes that day.

So his wish list has been pared down to books, puzzles, a few movies, and a couple of outdoor play items. Oh, and this of course:

Start 'em early!

But honestly, I think if we wrapped the toys he already owns and loves in spankin' new cardboard boxes, he'd be psyched.

Neely might enjoy it also.

Balance

2010-11-17T14:43:00.007-05:00

I've become slightly obsessed with time lately. The passing/wasting/general usage of it. It's quickness and sometimes it's painful slowness. Most of all I've struggled with the balance of time, specifically when it comes to work and family.

On a typical day, I spend 9-10 hours at work (including commute) and less than 3 hours with my son. Does that figure punch you right in the face, or is it just me?

Let's do some delving.

Des wakes up at 6am and I leave for work at 7:45am. In that hour and 45 minutes, Des has to be changed, dressed, fed, get all his stuff ready for daycare, and there's usually a few minutes left over for some play time. Both Tony and I have to get dressed and ready also. This is not a huge factor, as I usually just throw some clothes on, toss my hair up in a ponytail, and finish my make-up when I'm stuck in traffic. Fashion Police and Massachusetts State Troopers, avert your eyes.

I get home from work at around 5:45pm. Des goes to sleep between 6:30-7pm. That's an hour and 15 minutes I get to spend with him after work.

You still with me, people?

That comes out to a total of 3 hours a day I get to spend with my baby, best case scenario. It's usually less. Some days I have to be in work early, some days I stay late.

Take yesterday, for example.

Lastnight I attended dinner with work folks. I was not super pscyhed about it, but the big bosses were going, and I had cancelled a couple times in the past so I felt obligated. Plus it's a free meal at a nice restaurant. I got the lobster mac 'n cheese, and it was heaven. That beats a tuna sandwich on semi-stale bread any day.

The problem with this scenario is that I wouldn't be home until well after Desmond's bed time. So I would see him in the morning before I left for work, and then not again until the next morning when he woke up.

OMG is he even going to remember me??

I cried on the drive to dinner, god help me. I called Tony who was feeding Des at the time. He put me on speaker so I could yell ridiculous things in baby talk (OOJA BOOJA) and Des stared at the phone. Tony tickled him so I could hear him laugh. And I just about lost it.

I know, I know. It was ONE DAY. And some people have it much worse. Some have jobs that require extensive travel (I can't imagine), or work at places who aren't flexible with time off for family (thankfully my company is).

But if my situation is one of the better cases, how are people OKAY with this?? Shouldn't this all be the other way around? Are society's priorities effed up, or are mine?

I know I just have to learn to deal with it. Such is life, right? If you want to live in this part of the country, own a home, and have a family, two incomes are almost always necessary.

Oh and friends? It's amazing I see them EVER. I love them dearly, but social gatherings have plummetted down the list of priorities at this point, under work, baby, husband, family, and sleep. I have tried to make it a point to get out at least once a month to have cocktails with adults and discuss grown-up things like the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Ohh that Camille is a piece of a work, huh?

I'm still learning how to balance it all. Sometimes I feel like as soon as I have something down, the universe adds a little bit more sand to the other side of the scale, throwing everything off. Part of life is learning how to adapt to constant changes. Basically, I need to do more yoga.

And looka that, Desmond grew another inch? Off to Target for new pants! That's kinda like yoga.

Fall

2010-11-14T18:35:00.008-05:00

I've always had a love/hate relationship with fall. Usually by mid-September I'm kinda over the 90-degree days and humidity and ready for some crisp cool air. Days of hoodies and scarves and good hair. But as every New Englander knows, the arrival of autumn means that Old Man Winter is waiting just around the corner, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops. That man is not my friend. He is a cold, fickle, unforgiving fellow.

On a side note, there's a commercial running now for a local news channel. "We've crunched all the numbers, we've tracked all the patterns, and now we'll tell YOU how bad this winter will be." To that I say, HA! Was this the same station (as well as every other local station) that told us last year we were getting the Blizzard of the Century and we did not get a single inch? As in ZERO inches. Not even a dusting. That was with a day's notice. So they're going to tell me NOW how bad THIS WHOLE WINTER will be? HA! I said it again.

But anyway. It's not winter yet. It is fall. I'm living in the now, man. Now is a great place to be. Full of family, food, and football.

And leaves... oh so many leaves.

Thanks to my husband and father-in-law, these leaves are gone from the yard. They lived a good life. But it was time.

We told him they went up to leaf heaven. There were only a few tears. Kid's gotta learn.

Of Food and Love

2010-11-12T09:17:00.006-05:00

Much like my hesitation to post about Desmond's amazing sleep habits, I fear talking about his eating. As soon as I do, he'll start slapping food off his table and request only white bread. NO CRUST. But honestly, right now, Des is a champion at the dinner table. A champion, I say!

When we started him on solids, we kept a list of all the foods he ate. We stopped adding to the list a while ago because it was getting out of control. Instead I started a list of foods he wouldn't eat or didn't like. Here's what it looks like:

-

Yup. Nada. Every time we try a new food I'm on the edge of my seat, wondering if THIS IS THE ONE he'll refuse. Haven't found it yet.

We're not giving him anything overly complicated or sophisticated. Just the basics... fruits, vegetables, meats, breads, and cheeses. But so far every new food we try he's fine with. He picks it up with one hand, pokes at it with the other, slowly moves it to his mouth, makes his New Food Face, and chews. After that first bite, it's business as usual.

The kid loves broccoli, for crying out loud.

Mmm...

And peas. And hummus. And avocado. My mom is cringing right now. When I tell her we gave him brussel sprouts, her head might explode.

And it's not just the variety of foods that he eats, it's the sheer quantity. He is going to eat us out of house and home. We can only put a few bite-sized pieces of food on his tray at a time, or he will just keep shoveling everything into his mouth until the tray is clear. When there's nothing left on his tray, he whines.

Umm helloooo! Why is there no food in front of me right now?!

Because we're trying to avoid having to perform the Heimlich, darling.

Here's a typical lunch for Des:

Toasted wheat bread with cheese, steamed broccoli, 1/2 a banana

And yes, he ate almost the entire thing, except some of the crust which was too toasted for his liking.

With regular meals like these, how shall I say... he's testing the limits of his diapers. And the contents of said daipers are testing the limits of my gag reflex.

But I'm not complaining. My boy is active, growing, healthy, and HUNGRY.

These neck rolls didn't just appear overnight. It takes work, man.

Bird on a Wire

2010-11-10T19:45:00.006-05:00

Suburban living is pretty predictable. Sunday paper, trash and recycling on Thursdays. Out the kitchen window you might see a car passing, your neighbor with a leaf blower, kids waiting for the school bus, a woman jogging.

And then one day you look out that same window to see this:

Am I the only idiot who didn't realize turkeys could fly? Probably.

We see wild turkeys often in our area. But never so... high up. They're usually content to stay close to the ground. And this was quite a large clan. Herd. Gaggle. Google? Whatever a group of many jive turkeys is called.

Tony was home to see this. I was at work and he sent me one of these pictures with the text:

"Dinner will be ready when you get home. Thanksgiving dun' come early!"

Coming Through, Part 3

2010-11-09T19:52:00.014-05:00

In July 2009 while in my first trimester of pregnancy, I started having unexplained seizures. This is part 3 of the series that recounts that time. Read the previous entries here:
Intro
Part 1
Part 2

We shall walk and talk in gardens all misty wet with rain
And I will never never never grow so old again

It’s been difficult writing this part of the series, covering the hospital stay and weeks to follow. Like I’ve said before, I remember very little. And the pieces I do remember don’t follow any logical time sequence. Through my few memories and Tony’s written account, I’ve tried to make some sense of it.

Despite my hazy memory, I very clearly recall the ambulance ride from our local hospital to Beth Israel in Boston. I wanted Tony to ride with me, but he needed to drive so that he would have a vehicle in the city. I asked the doctors if I could go with him in the car, but I still needed to be monitored closely. So it was just me and the nice 12-year-old boy pretending to be an EMT in the back of the ambulance. He was sweet. Not much of a talker, which was fine with me. I felt old, pregnant, and quite content to just lie there quietly with my hands folded over my tummy.

This ride was much different than the one from earlier that night. It was calm, smooth, and unhurried, although we made it into town quickly. It was a Saturday morning and the highway was empty. The sun was just rising on a clear day. I couldn’t see much outside the windows, being horizontal like I was. But I could see the way the sun sparkled off the tops of buildings of the Boston skyline. Orange, gold, silver, iridescent and shimmery. It was beautiful and so peaceful.

That drive was like being in the eye of the storm. Coming out of hours of total chaos and heading into much of the same. A brief respite at dawn. I breathed it in like fresh air. I wished it were a little longer so I could enjoy the quiet.

I was taken to the emergency room at BI, back into the storm. Nobody was sure where I was going to land. Obstetrics? Neurology? The big debate of the day. Tony was already there waiting for me as I was rolled into a ‘room’ in the ER, which consisted of a corner with a curtain around it. These busy big city hospitals are short on space, I guess. Doctors came in and out, asking loads of questions. I deferred to my husband much of the time, something I would become very used to doing.

I was happy to see my mom arrive. She carried her purse and a plastic shopping bag full of the essentials, tissues and mints and magazines. Always prepared, my mum. My sisters arrived soon after. I was glad to have familiar faces around. But they all looked tired and worried and I just wanted people to stop. Guys, it’s okay. I’m fiiiine. I truly felt that there was no reason to worry. It was a fluke. A crazy weird fluke. I ate something bad, is all. This business, all this fuss is just silly!

Of course, I didn't see myself on the floor the night before. The convulsing and the blood. Fighting with the EMTs as they tried to help. Perhaps 'silly' isn't the word my husband would use to describe the situation.

None of the doctors or nurses could tell us exactly what had happened or why. But they had a plan. They would perform every test they could think of. And so it started. Blood tests, motor, memory, and reflex tests, lumbar puncture (yeah, it was about as pleasant as it sounds), MRIs, EKGs, EEGs… The works. The only thing they weren’t able to do was a cat scan, which is not baby safe. I’m cooking this baby just fine on my own, thankyouverymuch.

When I was in one of the more time consuming tests, Tony was able to step out with his mom, dad, and sister for a bite to eat. I imagine he needed (and deserved) a break. I learned recently that this was the time his wall broke down. Always the picture of strength and support for me, he could finally let go of all his worries and fears. Spill it out on a cafeteria table with his family there to hold him up. They listened and hugged him as he let it all out.

“It’s going to be okay,” they assured. He didn’t know if it was true. But he felt better.

At some point in between one test or another, I was finally moved into a room in the neurology unit. Since the baby was fine (can I get a hallelujah?), they would focus on this noggin of mine, :knock knock:. I was relieved to be in a real room. I hated the feeling of being in limbo. Either put me somewhere or send me home, ya know?

I was settled in the room after a long, crazy day. The rest of the family had left and Tony stayed by my side. I was exhausted. My whole body was sore from the fall, and my mind needed the escape of some cheesy sitcom. We lay curled up together in my hospital bed watching TV. Tony is always warm and he made it feel like we were home in that stiff, starch white bed. It didn’t take long for me to drift off in his arms.

He told me later on that he was scared to go to sleep that night. Any movement I made in my sleep would cause him to tense up with anxiety, reliving the night before.

At midnight Tony was awoken by another one of my movements. But this time I was not just shifting my weight in my sleep. I was convulsing. He thought he was having a nightmare at first. When he realized what was happening, he hit the call button and yelled that I was having a seizure. A nurse came in and the two of them turned me onto my side. All they could do was wait it out. It lasted about a minute, just like the last time.

I remember nothing of that incident or the rest of the night to come. I’ve been told I was in a fog for a while, came out of it for a few minutes, and then went back to sleep.

Tony barely slept. He sat in the chair next to my bed and watched my every breath, dozing off here and there.

That morning at around 6am, the nightmare continued. Another seizure. Tony jumped to his feet and ran to the door to find help, almost knocking down my neurologist, Dr. K, who was on her way in. The two of them again moved me to my side and waited for it to be over. Dr. K saw most of my third seizure, as well as the emotional reaction of my husband to all the stress. Tony is a very reasonable, together person. But this was too much. He had watched his pregnant wife have three violent, unexplained seizures in a 26-hour period and nobody could tell him why or how to fix it. Dr. K helped calm him down and assured him that they were going to take care of me. She told him how strong he was being for me and for our baby.

I go back and forth all the time on whether I believe in God or a higher power. But I believe something sent Dr. K to my room at the exact right moment. She was there to witness my seizure first-hand, enabling her to better treat my condition. And she was able to be there for my husband in a way that only an outsider, someone emotionally removed from the situation can be. I dunno… Maybe it was just a coincidence that she was walking into my room at that precise moment. But either way… It seems like someone up there is looking out for us.

I remember waking up that morning to a gray day outside the window, Tony sitting in the chair next to my bed. I stretched and reached for his hand.

“Morning babe,” I said.

“Hey. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Tired. Sore.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“… Oh god… no.”

I was afraid to hear him say the words. I knew by looking at his face, but I didn’t want to hear it. Again? Seriously? No, no, no. I was angry. Pissed off at my body, at my brain, at the world. What the hell is going on?

When I found out that there were two more seizures that night, my anger turned to legitimate concern. All along I had been worried about the baby and my husband and putting everyone out with all this nonsense. But it finally hit me. Something might really be wrong.

I know, I know… One random massive seizure wasn’t enough to make me concerned for myself. It took three. Everyone has their limit, I guess.

Now both Tony and I were praying and pleading for someone to just make the damn seizures stop. We could only hope that Dr. K had the answers.

Continued in Part 4...

Eating My Words

2010-11-08T20:11:00.005-05:00

I knew that when I became a parent I'd have to eat my words from time to time.

Like how I said I'd never leave the house with a dirty kid. Well sometimes I'll wash Des's face after a meal and he looks just fine and clean inside the house, but then in the sunlight I notice a definite orange hue to his mouth and there's a crust of sweet potatoes around his nose. But he's already bundled up and strapped into the car seat and... oh eff it. Nobody's gonna notice. And if they do, frankly I just don't care.

Then I lick my thumb and rub his face. Yes, I really do that. It's a mommy cliche for a reason.

Oh and that time I said I'd never let my house look like it's a daycare center. And then this happened:

Sigh.

For what it's worth I never actually said these things out loud. But I thought them. So here I go, happily eating my thoughts. Tastes like chicken.

At least my baby's got a cell mate.

Goodbye Loki

2010-11-06T21:48:00.007-04:00

A picture of happier times

Our cat Loki passed away. It happened quickly, seeing as the original Loki post was written less than a month ago and we had no idea he was sick. But he was sick. And it wasn't that post that jinxed him, like Tony says. Stop making me feel guilty!

Maybe because we'd see him every day and didn't quite notice, it took a comment from my sister Janet to make us see.

"Whoa, Loki looks thin."

We looked at our kitty and then at eachother. Oh my god, he does look thin. Something's wrong. I'm not saying Loki was fat... okay, he was fat.. But this cat also had a presence about him. King Loki. Loki, the god of mischeif. He would puff his chest out and look down on the rest of us. His brother Neely would play with toys and Loki would turn his nose up like, "Really? Psh. When's dinner."

Our big, beefy Lokester was losing weight rapidly.

Tony's mom came over to look at him. She's the resident Cat Lady around these parts. Her initial thoughts were not good. She's been around a lot, A LOT of cats. So you have to take her word. Loki's an older cat and sometimes they just know when something's wrong. Loki knew, and he stopped eating. Finally he was too weak to go on and Tony took him in. He's at peace now.

There's something missing from the house. We all feel it. I feel the worst for Neely, Loki's brotha-from-anotha-motha. Now Neely's all by himself. So we've tried to pay some extra attention to him lately.

He's enjoying the attention. But I know he misses his brother.

RIP Loki. Be nice to Barkley up there.

Pic circa 2002

First Injury

2010-11-04T10:46:00.008-04:00

And it is very minor, thankfully!

See the blue stripe on Des's left cheek? Super bad ass, right? That's from a mean old toy block that jumped outta nowhere. From in his hand. As he was crawling down a step and did a face plant into it.

He cried for a minute and went back to playing with said toy and zipping all over the place.

This morning he crawled under the kitchen table, accidentally bumped his head on the cross-bar, and then bumped it a few more times intentionally. Like he was testing the strength of the wood. Or of his skull, either/or.

So I'm sure there will be many more of these incidents to come.

Fingers crossed they remain as minor as this one!

Coming Through, Part 2

2010-11-01T12:03:00.014-04:00

In July 2009 while in my first trimester of pregnancy, I started having unexplained seizures. This is part 2 of the series that recounts that time. Read the previous entries here:
Intro
Part 1

And I will raise my hand up into the nighttime sky
And count the stars there shining in your eyes
Just to dig it all and not to wonder, that’s fine
And I’ll be satisfied not to read in between the lines

July 2009:

The lawn. That’s the first thing I saw in front of me. It was dark out and I was floating above the grass, unrecognizable faces above me on either side. They asked if I knew what had happened.

No.

Had they asked if I knew my name, I would have answered the same. I was someone else. I was nobody. I was just born, or maybe I died. Nothing was sure. Yet oddly enough, everything was fine. I was warm, calm, and fine. Confused, yes, but without any strength or desire to put the pieces together.

Sometimes I still think about that feeling, of not knowing who I was. It was absolutely surreal. No past, present, or future. No name, no ties. Floating in a dream.

Then I saw a familiar face. He was frantic, yet the sight of him was reassuring. He knows me. This guy over here! He’ll tell you who I am!

His eyes met mine and he said to me without words, “There you are.” Gently, I was pulled back down to earth and I started to feel the weight of my limbs again. My best friend, my husband, my heart, Tony… yes, that’s whose face that is… he called my name. It sounded vaguely familiar, but the tone was wrong. Worried. Each time I heard my name aloud, I was pulled down into the world a little more.

Sarah, you’re going to be okay.

Sarah, we’re taking you to the hospital.

Sarah, you had a fall.

I am Sarah. And apparently I fell. Musta been a bad one.

Our neighbors stood outside their homes. They looked worried too, their hands over their mouths. Before I could smile and wave (would that be silly?), the gurney under me was lifted up into the back of the ambulance. Tony was standing outside the open doors at my feet.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital. They’re going to take care of you and make sure you and the baby are okay.”

Baby?

I didn’t ask what he meant. I nodded, rested my head back, and closed my eyes. At some point during the ambulance ride I remembered that I was pregnant. 3 months, I think. Ohh. The baby. I looked down at my nightgown and placed a hand over my belly. A tiny little pooch about the size of my palm protruded slightly. My ears got hot. Then my face. ‘Oh my god, the baby. How bad was the fall. What if…’

…

Tony’s experience of that night is obviously very different. He wrote about it in detail. But it is too terrifying to post. I will summarize.

Late in the night, he awoke to the sound of coughing or choking and thought it was the dog. Barkley often hacked in his old age, god bless him. I was moving around. Tony assumed I was trying to get the dog off the bed to prevent him from vomiting on the sheets. But then I fell. Tony jumped up and turned on the light to see me twitching violently on the floor, my eyes rolling back. Crazy, alien-esque, WTF-is-going-on twitching, for what seemed like forever but was only about 30-60 seconds, and then it stopped. And there was blood. A scary amount of blood by my head.

Tony called 911, understandably panicked. As he waited for the ambulance to arrive, he lay on the floor and held me in his arms. My eyes were closed, I breathed deeply, gurgling sometimes like a snore. He talked to me, begged me to hold on, keep breathing, just keep breathing. He thought I was dying.

…

I can’t even imagine. My heart breaks for my husband for having to see all that. If it had been the reverse, I don’t know if I could’ve kept it together like he had.

…

The only part of the ER visit I recall is the ultrasound. And the overwhelming relief when they found a heartbeat, steady and strong. Like his father. Tony and I cried and held each other. The baby is fine. The baby is fine.

After many questions, discussions, and exams, the doctors concluded that I likely had a seizure. The blood was from hitting my head on the nightstand, resulting in a lovely cut to my face. Mirrors are scarce in hospitals (gratefully), but I could tell by the reactions of others that I wasn't exactly looking my best.

Now what?

I had to be admitted, but our local hospital did not have the capacity to perform all the tests that needed to be done. They decided to transfer me to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston. There I was in for a battery of tests, a team of doctors, and many more questions. As well as a couple of very scary set backs...

Continued in Part 3...

Happy Halloween!

2010-10-31T20:21:00.006-04:00

It was a busy day. Daddy and Grampa have been doing a lot of work on the house (pics and updates to come!), so Des and I went to the park for a while.

Then Daddy took Des to a couple of the neighbors houses for trick or treating tonight.

Desmond as pirate and Tony as... Terry Francona?

Des doesn't quite grasp the concept of dressing in costume and knocking on doors to request treats. It was really just so our friendly neighbors could see him in his costume. They got a kick out of it.

However, Des does grasp the concept of bath time. And how freakin fun it is.

Yeeeah!

Great day.

Costume on the Cheap

2010-10-28T14:24:00.004-04:00

I hadn't put too much thought into Desmond's Halloween costume. I was not psyched about choosing one for him, fighting with him to get dressed into something he doesn't care to wear just to take photos and say "See? We dressed you up that year!" But if I didn't do that, people would talk, right? I'm not secure enough to not care what people think, I guess.

Shopping didn't help with the lack of enthusiasm. It was the weekend before Halloween so I knew pickins would be slim. I tried three different places. The first had 1 option for boys... a monkey. It was cute, but there were dozens of monkeys on the rack. Which means every other little boy with a last minute costume would be a monkey. That bothered me. Plus it was $25, which seemed high at the time. No thanks.

The next place only had costumes in a bag, which I think look cheap. If one year Des wants to be something out of a bag, I'd be all for it. But while I still have a say, I'll pass. Plus the only option for boys his age was some weird cartoon character that I didn't know.

The third place had a bunch of options. My favorite was a chicken. So cute! Plus, we call Des 'chicken' or 'chicken nugget' (nug for short) all the time. Perfect! I took it off the rack ready to buy, when I looked down at the tag. $40. I checked the tag of different size, as if it might change things. It didn't. No, no, no. NO WAY. Maybe I'm the cheapest person on the planet. But we're pinching every penny right now. $40 for something he's gonna hate me for putting him in? Out of the question. No matter how cute.

Finally I resigned to make his costume. I'm kinda artistic! A lil' bit crafty! I think. I poked around the internet trying to decide on a cute costume that would be easy to DIY, and settled on a pirate. A baby pirate! Come on, how cute is that.

I made a plan of action as to what we'd need to buy and what we already have. Took a quick trip to the craft store and put it together one night when he was sleeping. Here's what we got:

I didn't have to sew a thing. One of the reasons I chose a pirate is that the disheveled, frayed look actually works FOR you. I bought the iron-on patch, gold puffy paint, black t-shirt, and a bandana. Everything else we already had.

Total time: ~45 minutes, including trip to craft store

Total cost: less than $10

Having pictures like these forever... priceless.

Okay, okay. I'm glad I did the costume thing. ;-)

Whoring Out the Blog

2010-10-26T15:32:00.003-04:00

I am not a good sales person. In junior high when we had to sell candy bars to help pay for our trip to Washington DC, I would give them to friends and then pay for them with my own lunch money and allowance.

In high school when we'd solicit donations for our volleyball team outside of a donut shop, I barely made eye contact with people. I didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or obligated to give. No really we're fine! :smile, look at feet:

So here I go. Reaching out with a candy bar and a tin cup.

Inspired by the enthusiasm and creativity of those I met at Blogtoberfest, I'm asking for your help to make some connections and increase our readership here at POP. And instead of monetary donations, it comes in the form of two little mouse clicks!

Click the image above (or the icon on the right side menu) and then click vote. Super simple. They don't ask for emails and won't send you spam or monitor your checking account (I promise, Mom). I would appreciate your support ever so much!

I've found some really great sites that have become daily reads for me through TopMommyBlogs.com. I'm hoping I can get a few more readers of my own.

Okay. So thanks. I'm gonna go fidget and itch my neck for a while.

Blogtoberfest 2010

2010-10-25T14:35:00.006-04:00

Last Thursday Tony took over the bedtime routine for one night so that I could attend the 4th annual Boston Blogtoberfest. Hosted by the beautiful and talented (as most of us BTrees are) Jenny, of All Eyes on Jenny fame, it was a chance for local bloggers to get out from behind the screen and meet up face to face. There were cocktails, appetizers, impractical shoes, and adult conversation. Like a whole other planet. A fabulous, urban, lovely scented world free of primary-colored plastic toys and spit-up... although there may have been some caked on the collar of my dress.

I got to catch up with old friends, as well as meet many new ones. I also won booze! If the universe is sending me a message to get out more, it hath been received. Event sponsor Brew England (run by my good friends Sarah and Adam) raffled off gift baskets of their favorite beers. I've already imbibed in two and they were deeeelicious.

My night out with my fellow blog nerds made me realize two things:

1. I am hopelessly technologically challenged. This blog is as savvy as I get. I still use a non-smaht phone... phone calls and texting are the extent of its capabilities. Gagdets aren't my thing. I don't tweet and don't understand the purpose of Twitter. I'm sure there is one, it's just beyond my comprehension. I save my most visited links and blogs to my favorites in Internet Explorer... I know not of this Google Reader. Marcel tried to show me, but I was all:

It's okay. I like that disconnecting is easy because I don't carry the internet in my pocket at all times. I have no immediate aspirations of becoming more tech savvy. But I'm not stubborn about it. One day I may jump on board and get a phone from this decade or start up with the tweeting. Stranger things have happened.

2. I need to get out more. Regularly scheduled Momma's Nights Out are in the future. I'm not at a place right now where I need to get out of the house. I actually enjoy being home with my family. But I don't want to get into a rut where all I can talk about is BABY BABY BABY, and I never want to get to a point where I feel trapped or resentful that I'm home on another Saturday night. Like I said, I don't see that happening. But going out every once in a while will make me a more well-rounded person, and therefore a better mom and wife. Duh, right?

All in all, it was a great night out. Although there was not a whole lot of networking on my part... I think I passed out 3 of my DIY business cards (made with mailing labels and a cereal box, hello ghettooo). I still had fun chatting with peeps in a new bar with make-up on my face and a drink in hand. Very refreshing. It was like my version of a spa treatment.

Coming Through, Part 1

2010-10-21T21:40:00.008-04:00

In July 2009 while in my first trimester of pregnancy, I started having unexplained seizures. This is part 1 of the series that recounts that time. Read the intro here:
Intro

I shall drive my chariot down your streets and cry
It’s me I’m dynamite and I don’t know why
And you shall take me strongly in your arms again
And I will not remember that I ever felt the pain

An activity book of word searches sat on the coffee table. It was a recent Saturday morning and Tony’s mother watched Desmond for us the day before. I figured she came upon the book trying to find something to do while Des was napping. I flipped through the pages and noticed something odd. Only single letters were circled, not whole words in long skinny ovals like you would usually see. Huh. Must be a different way of solving these things.

“Ton, I think your mom is a secret agent sending messages to the government.”

I showed him the book.

“That’s weird.”

He tried to find a connection between the words given and the letters circled. Maybe she only circled the first letters of the words. Or the letters that were not included. It didn’t make sense. We were both perplexed, but we put the book down and didn’t think about it again.

Next Saturday came. Tony was feeding Desmond at the kitchen table. Peaches and yogurt and waffle. Daddy wasn’t putting the waffle pieces down fast enough and Des was letting him know with all sorts of excited “Ahh”s and “Guhh”s.

“One at a time, little man,” Tony said.

I sipped my coffee. The word search caught my eye on the coffee table.

“Hey Ton, did you ask your mom about the book?”

“Shoot, I forgot.”

“No big deal. Just curious.”

Later that night, after the baby was asleep and we were lounging on the couch watching TV, Tony picked up the book.

“Hm. These form words. Something is spelled out. ‘These… last… few… days…”

I peeked over his shoulder and we read it together, out loud, connecting the scattered letters slowly.

“Have… been… scary.”

He closed it. We both remembered something at the same time. This book was given to me last year when I was in the hospital, 14 weeks pregnant and having unexplained seizures. A 911 call, frantic ER trip, 2 ambulance rides, 5 days in the hospital, so many doctors, and countless tests. Tony never left my side.

It’s a 2-3 week timeframe of which I remember very little. But in a rare reversal of roles, this was something that Tony had forgotten about.

“I did this in the hospital one night. I couldn’t sleep.”

…

I could tell he was embarrassed. That I had found something he wrote and that he had forgotten he wrote it in the first place. I asked if I could read the entire thing. He said yes, somewhat reluctantly. I pieced together the letters to form the words at a slow, halting pace in my head…

“Sarah, I love you more than words can describe. I would not know what to do with myself if something were to happen to you. These last few days have been scary for me. I can only imagine how hard they’ve been for you. We’ll get through this together and be stronger because of it. Sleep well, my love. Love, Tony”

Tears fell out of my eyes. I pictured him sitting in the dark next to me as I slept in the hospital bed, circling these letters, one at a time in a puzzle book.

I felt so sorry and guilty for putting him through it all. The word “scary” was ringing in my ears. I recall at the time feelings of confusion, anxiety, exhaustion. He was scared. Maybe it wasn’t the first time he shared that feeling with me, but it’s the first time it sunk in. Like a 2x4 to the face.

Not so much here, or here, but riiiight here. Bam.

Then, pushing through that helpless guilt came a profound sense of gratitude, humility, and love. I couldn’t hug my husband long or tight enough to express it. If I could, I would just hold on to him with both arms forever.

...

When I told him I was going to write about this, he said there was more to read than just the puzzle book. Soon after it happened, Tony had typed up a full detailed account of everything. He never told me about it until now. Apparently my husband had painted the picture I had been looking for all this time. Now I was finally ready to see it.

Reading it was like looking into someone else’s life. I guess I hadn’t realized just how little I remembered. There were tiny moments I could recall through my eyes, like photographs, but most of it I saw for the first time through his. And that’s when I understood how truly scary it all was.

Continued in Part 2...

Run Down

2010-10-20T20:19:00.006-04:00

1. Happy belated 31st birthday to my wonderful husband, Tony. We went out for an amazing dinner at the Capital Grille. I can say with little hesitation, it was the most amazing meal of our lives. We made inappropiate noises at the table as our steaks melted in our mouths. I'm sorry gentle people of the Capital Grille. We don't get out much. Then I gave him his gift of Swedish Fish, Sour Patch Kids, and underwear. All romance up in here. Here's to celebrating every birthday together forever and ever, my love.

2. Desmond turned 9 months old on the 15th. I... I can't wrap my brain around it. Where did my baby go?

Oh there you are, sweepea. Even when you're 6 feet tall, you'll still be my baby. Here's hoping you're not still sucking your thumb by then.

3. You may have noticed things look different around here. I'm messing around a little with the layout and design. I have no idea what I'm doing. Any feedback, good or bad, is much appreciated. I already got a big thumbs down from the hubs. Okay, it was really a minor critique about one aspect, but my Negative Nancy mind spun it into Major Suckage. But really. I'm totally open to all thoughts.

4. Part 1 of Coming Through will be posted tomorrow. Eekers.

Welcome Logan!

2010-10-18T20:46:00.000-04:00

I just want to take a moment to say congratulations to our friends Jeannie and Chris on their new addition. Another little BTree Baby is in the world! Logan was born 10/17 at 1:39am.

Oh myyy... those cheeks. That face. I can't deal.

We are bursting with excitement for them. And I can't wait for Desi and Logan to be BFFs!