Clean Slate

My sister-in-law gave me an address book for my birthday. It is a beautiful, leather-bound one that I desired and cherish. I am putting all my addresses in it this afternoon.

Despite the beauty of the book, there is a bittersweet feeling that comes with paging through your old directory of life. You think back on when people lived at all the crossed-out places. You remember friends who now have new last names. You wonder who you should just eliminate---after all, life changes.

But what if, after you eliminate she and he from the directory, you remember something important you wanted to say and you've no direction as to how to reach them?

Sigh. I'm closing one book, and opening another.

Little Sick, Tired Birthday Girl

The end of my last week as a 23 year old and the commencement of my first week as a 24 year old have been rough so far. I will list the challenges and the triumphs:

• Baby saw doctor for 4 month check-up.
• Doctor's intern told me no, babies don't get teeth this early. Take a look in HERE, little intern, and see exhibits A and B. My advanced babe.
• Babe acquired strange rash-inducing virus called roseola in combination with reaction to immunization shots AND thrush. Mom and Dad injected syringes of Tylenol and thrush meds into baby, who promptly screamed and refused to sleep 3.5 nights in a row.
• Mom turned 24 on no sleep, and sweet Daddy made delicious pizza reminiscent of one of our first dates. Dad brought home vino, and (accidentally!) a video bordering on porn. Suffice to say, we chose sleep.
• Mom acquired illness affecting muscles (ache!), throat (ouch!), and temperature. Illness still persists.
• Baby ate solid food (ok, semi-solid rice cereal) for 1st time...Doctor prompted this...full bellies equal full night's sleep. WE HOPE SO.

I hate to whine, but it's been rough, kids. Cherish your youth, because at 23.99, you just might have to grow up.

Hysterical III

If you have noticed a pattern to these entries, you're very perceptive. Tommy has so far fallen asleep several times alone in his crib, but at the moment he is again hysterical. Have I mentioned how painful this is? And how my neighbors are definitely calling child protective services by now?

Um, Officer...my son is in nap boot camp right now....he needs his sleep...

I wonder how long this is going to take.

Last night, John was not particularly supportive of the cry-til-he-sleeps plan. It IS really hard. And we do have neighbors in the apartment building. For a while, we just waited it out in the living room on the couch. Everyone feels so vulnerable...Tommy, because he's tired and thinks we've left him, and us, because when your baby cries you have only the desire to comfort. Can anything else really be a good idea?

Still Hysterical

Ok, Tommy is crying again. Being a parent is hard work. All I want to do is teach him how to fall asleep by himself. If only he'd believe me...Sleep is wonderful! Sleep is joyous!

Silence is joyous, too, by the way.

It is so hard not to go in there and just let him stay asleep in my arms. That's what he wants, I know. If I do that every time, though, then he'll never learn. Sigh.

I'm afraid the neighbors are going to call protective services pretty soon.

Hysterical

Tommy is crying in the bedroom. Sobbing. Heart-wrenching. Hyperventilating, even.

I was a little concerned that he hadn't been taking naps of the standard variety. I guess I wanted to believe he preferred short cat naps...twenty minutes here or there.

I just read this book on healthy sleep patterns, though, and it turns out these cat naps are NO GOOD. Kids need consecutive hours of sleep (2-3) in order to really get the good rest they need.

So, I am teaching my son the pattern of healthy sleep by letting him scream until he falls asleep.

It's very painful for all involved.

Throaty Concern

Banana bread scares me because it is so thick that it gets stuck in my throat and I think I will choke and die. The last time I made banana bread, I was pregnant and I swore I would not forget to drink a liquid (preferably milk) anytime I ate it.

I forgot today.

In other news, I was supposed to have a lunch date with a gal pal from the past this afternoon, but she never called. I suppose I could have called her, too...although I did leave the confirmation message yesterday and thought it was her due turn. This brings me to several points:

1.) Caller ID is the devil. Have you noticed how you (and anyone else) are rarely in the mood to answer a call at the given moment someone chooses to call you? You avoid the call, thinking you'll call them when you're more in the mood...and then you do return the call, only to get voicemail and realize s/he is now not in the mood for you. Does this seem healthy?

and

2.) I'd just rather not get into that right now.

Changed the Sheets Twice

So, I was feeling pretty proud of myself this morning. I positioned my unsuspecting infant atop a new blue sheet for a photo shoot, thinking the color would match his eyes nicely. Tommy doesn't smile when I take out the camera; he simply stares at me in wonderment or defiance, thinking Mom, what is that contraption and do you actually think you're the boss of me?

After a few minutes, I hear that familiar burbling sound which indicates Tommy is going to the bathroom. Great, I think. Pooping always puts my son in a good mood. Maybe he'll smile.

No such luck.

My son stares at me as usual, this time surely knowing what I don't: his diaper is unable to handle the massive diaherrea leaking onto my nice, blue sheet...Through to my nice, white sheet...Through the mattress.

Blue Cheese Pasta Salad

Just for kicks, and some great grub, combine:

1 box of rigatoni pasta, cooked
1/4 or 1/3 C mayo, to desired salad thickness
1.5 T sugar

Mix these first 3 ingredients, and then add:

1 container blue cheese (maybe 6 oz)
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cubed
1/2 C chopped walnuts*
1 bag Craisins


*If you're feeling particularly patient, you can carmelize the walnuts (before chopping them) for extra pizzazz.

Who are we?

Being a parent changes you, and it changes your spouse. Mostly, being a parent changes everything...and it CERTAINLY changes your relationship.

When I take a look back at the last three months, I can count on maybe four fingers the instances of couple time John and I have shared. Sigh. Sadly, we have wasted a few of those recent moments bickering about nothing as we were just exhaustipated from being parents.

I'll allow myself to indulge in nostalgia for a moment and tell you that prior to parenthood, we were that sappy couple you see experiencing romance at any given moment. Dancing together in the grocery store (freak dancing, not slow dancing, people), holding hands during car rides, and making googly eyes at Davanni's were not below us. We still do these things, of course, but we dance around the grocery store with Tommy (trying to prevent him from busting out with a siren cry from hunger), we grip each other's hands for support in the car (as Tommy's siren cry explodes through Vinny the Volvo---constantly), and we make googly eyes at Davanni's...at Tommy, because despite the siren cry, he is the most beautiful boy we have ever known.

I'm not entirely sure I can answer the query I've posed, but we are certainly different, John and I. Perhaps this weekend, with a Saturday night date and thanks to a free grandparent babysitting gig, we can rediscover our couplehood of past to keep our sanity in the present.

Jeepers Creepers

So, yesterday I was watching the news (shocking, I know) and learned of a convicted rapist who has been harassing women at a college near our apartment. Creepy!!! Apparently he approaches girls and starts discussing politics. Shortly into their conversation, he switches into explicit sexual language. Freaky. Why do we let these people out of jail??!!

Between this and the absurdly strange and disgusting sexual anecdote my mom shared with me yesterday (unrelated to her), I've had just about enough.

Naturally Offensive

An oxymoron, yes. Today I read Glamour magazine while eating a great salad and enjoying the weather at Kowalski's with my boy (yes, life as a stay at home mom is tough sometimes) when I came upon a slew of opinions about breastfeeding. The mag must have featured a story on this subject last month, and the opinions I read were in the editorial section.

To be fair, I never thought very much about breastfeeding prior to pregnancy. I guess I figured breastfeeding was natural, and I did consider that walking, talking kids were probably beyond the need for mom's milk. I was not breastfed as a baby, but my family seemed supportive of whatever I chose for my own baby. Formula seemed a viable option, and sometimes when I am up all night I do wish Dad could help out. For whatever reasons, I'm doing it, people.

Most of the opinions expressed in Glamour seemed in favor of breastfeeding (or, really, in favor of doing "whatever you want"---isn't that a tragic epidemic?); however, many felt that such encounters should occur only in one's own home. I guess I do understand how some people might be conflicted about women who "whip it out" to breastfeed in public...not everyone wants to see that. I can also empathize with the woman who was woefully exposed at Lake Harriet this summer, though: she had 2 other tots running around and was doing whatever she could to get that infant fed. Discretion was hardly at the forefront of her mind, nor should it have beens

The main point, in my mind, is not whether breastfeeding overexposes society to bare breasts (let's all agree that MTV has that covered...or uncovered) but rather that breastfeeding IS unarguably natural and (perhaps even more importantly) a woman who breastfeeds ONLY in her own home could never, ever leave her home. My kid, at least, eats constantly@

Can I endure imprisonment in my 1 bedroom apartment? No. Should I endure it?

Thankfully, I don't care enough about your opinion to change the way I'm getting nutrition to Tommy.

Abu Nader Deli

If you get the chance, this middle eastern deli on Como Avenue earns five stars for fabulous schwarmas. They are huge, gluttonous pitas dripping with cucumber sauce and overflowing with seasoned meat.

Best in the cities.

True Love

Our son has a font of earwax. Seriously. Funny how when it's your kid, you're not even grossed out at getting his earwax cleared out. In fact, it's kind of fascinating.

Car Ride

I'm sitting with my legs stretched up on the dash board when he looks at me with that look. He's awestruck, gazing as though I am the most adorable creature he has ever beheld. And then, to seal the deal:

"I hope all our daughters look exactly like you."

Sigh.

And Now for the Famous Cherry Love Bars

Bet you can't eat just one:

Crust
Mix 2 C flour, 1/2 C sugar, and 1 C softened butter like pie crust, using fork or pastry cutter. Press into greased 9x13'' pan. Bake at 350 for 10 min.

Layer 2
Beat 2 eggs and 1 egg yolk (save the white for later) with 1 and 1/2 C brown sugar until light and fluffy. Add 1/4 C flour, 1/2 t baking powder, 1/2 t salt, 1/2 C chopped maraschino cherries, drained, and 1/2 C chopped walnuts. Chop extra nuts for sprinkling.

Spread this on crust and bake 30 min at 350 OR UNTIL MIDDLE SETS. (Made sure the middle isn't runny. You will be sorry if this happens.)

Cool.

Frosting
Beat your remaining egg white with 2 T cherry juice, 1/4 C crisco and 2 C powdered sugar. Spread on bars and sprinkle with nuts.

YUM!

Frankenstein

Frankenstein is bigger than any human being.
He's 8 feet tall!
"What does he do?" we ask Luki.
He mostly strangles people.

Beautiful Son

He is sleeping and we lay in bed together. He is nestled into my side as I read The Time Traveler's Wife. I hear, feel his breath. He is beautiful. I pull the covers up enough to just cover his little chest. Every so often, I stop reading to poke him just a touch...his face contorts, or his tongue sticks out, and then he's back to sleep. It is amazing to spend a morning snuggled up with a baby who you created. He opens his eyes and peers into the world, and his face breaks into a wide smile when he sees me, his mother. Simply astounding. My son.

Ode to 21

Avoiding It

I'm avoiding the gym right now, only for a brief moment, to note that I spent a great deal of last night avoiding confrontation. What's my issue? I can't seem to let bygones be bygones.

I guess this entry it going to remain pretty vague, so maybe I'll just quit for the readers' benefit.

Argh.

Mmm...Yummy Fall

I was just thinking---if you were locked in a room and could only feel the air as it is today, would you guess the season?