Sam is asleep, all the laundry is in the washer and dryer, the bread is shaped into loaves and rising, and Steve is somewhere over Ohio or thereabouts on his way home from New York. Usually, on a Sunday night, I'd be in bed right now: watching TV and knitting. But I have to pick him up from the airport in two hours, so I'm busying myself so I stay awake.

Sam and I spent the weekend at my mom and dad's, which was fun. It was great for me to spend time with my family and get a little break from child-caring. I watched Lost with my sisters and did a little cooking and screwed up some crossword puzzles.

Then we came home. One of the major signs I've become an adult is that I worked really hard on Friday to get the house clean before I left, so that I'd come home to a nice clean house. Not spotless, of course, but I made the bed and did all the dishes and picked up and everything. And it did make a huge difference.

We went grocery shopping, and then Sam helped me put away everything. He loves having a job to do. One by one, taking each item out of the grocery bags and handing it to me. He got a little fixated on the milk carton, wanted to carry it across the house, and was perturbed when it was a little too heavy for him.

By then it was time to walk Harry, so we bundled up and set off into the neighborhood. I carried Sam about halfway around the block, but he's getting big, and my arm started to hurt. So I put him down. If you've never walked with both a terrier and a toddler, you haven't lived. One of them is snorting and pulling and chasing and running; the other one is trying very hard to not hold your hand, slipping all over the ice, and carefully placing his sneaker-clad foot deep into a snowbank. Finally the sidewalk was too icy for Sam, so I picked him up again. Cue instant meltdown. The neighbors must have thought I'd been beating him. We say he is "noodling" when he tantrums; his whole body gets limp and struggling at the same time, he throws his entire weight into being not wherever you want him to be. So walking over a layer of ice, with Harry on the leash and Sam in my arms, was probably the least fun I'd had all day.

He calmed down after a while. It took some ignoring. Then I needed to get some bread made (or, wanted to anyway, had been looking forward to it) so I set Sam up with a tupperware and some rice, which previously had just thrilled him. Today it thrilled him again, but what he found REALLY thrilling, while his mom was elbow-deep in sticky bread dough, was pouring all the rice into a colander and dragging it into the dining room. I finally had to take it away, which caused meltdown number 2, which didn't end until I put him in his crib with a pacifier and turned the lights off.

There was another little meltdown while I was cooking dinner, when I wouldn't let him open the oven.

Suffice to say it was a long, stressful--in a good way--weekend. I'd have thrown a tantrum myself if there was anyone around to comfort me!


***
LINGER: 4.5 stars

***

Edited to add: And then there was this--After dinner, Sam helped me knead the bread before its second rise, which was one of the sweetest moments of the last month. We sat on the floor with the bread in a bowl and took turns shoving our fists into it.

Just now I was cooking my lunches for the week and was trying to read at the same time but couldn't really concentrate on sauteeing the zucchini while turning pages--and so instead of reading I was kind of thinking about blogging and thinking about what I might write if I did blog. Oh, I am so witty and wise in my head, and then I sit down and--not so much. It all disappears.

The Brezenoffs had a nice weekend, if you're wondering. Sam and I visited his great-grandparents yesterday, followed by bread-baking, followed by dinner at Chiang Mai Thai with my sisters and parents. After Sam was in bed, Steve and I watched Julie and Julia, which I liked--at least the Julia parts. I do love Amy Adams but gosh, Julie is annoying, which is funny because when I read the book, I felt the opposite. Thought What do I care about this old woman cooking in Paris? But then again when I read the book I was 24, 25, having my own quarterlife crisis, working in Manhattan and living practically in Queens and just wishing for something bigger. (NB: It turned out to be something smaller. Or maybe more important.)

Today we did our normal grocery shopping trip, and I baked a cake for the ECFE potluck. I wish I'd taken a picture. Not of the cake, but of Steve's face when he saw the frosting (which is made of a stick of butter, 3/4 cup cocoa, 1/3 cup of milk, 1 tsp of vanilla, and 3 cups of powdered sugar). And of Sam's face when I let him lick the spoon--his first taste of chocolate. He loved it. Of course. Who wouldn't?

Sam had fun at the potluck, which was held at this big indoor playground in New Brighton. Apparently not many of the other people were vegetarians, and all of them were Minnesotans. By which I mean everything was meat in a crockpot. I found one dish that was made of pasta shells and lots of cheese, which was good, and there was a salad. And some yummy cake. Steve enjoyed the food a lot more than I did. My chocolate almond cake, apparently, was a big hit. Or at least disappeared faster than the other things did.

And then it was 7 and Sam was getting a little crazy/tired so we came home and put him to bed and I made my lunches for the week and made a haircut appointment and you're now all caught up on my life.


First book reviews of 2010:
GONE 3 stars (my least favorite of the three, unfortunately)
HER FEARFUL SYMMETRY 5 stars (I liked it better than TTTW)

The last of my 2009 book reviews....

Marcelo in the Real World - 4 stars
Last Summer of the Death Warriors - 4 stars
Middlesex (reread) - 5 stars
The Best of Everything - 5 stars
This Girl Isn't Shy She's Spectacular - 2 stars
The Robber Bride - 5 stars
Little Women - 5 stars
Little Men - 3.5 stars
Year of the Flood - 5 stars
Stitches - 4 stars
Alphas - 2.5 stars
Firefly Lane - GAH! 1 star
Scarlett Fever - 4 stars
8th Grade Super Zero - 4 stars
Once Was Lost - 3.5 stars
Under the Dome - GAH
Love, Aubrey - 5 stars
Dreaming of Amelia/Ghosts of Ashbury High - 6 stars


That makes 92 books read and listed on this blog. I started listing them after the year started, though, so I'm guessing the actual total is over a hundred in 2009. Not bad! 2010 will not be as good. I'll shoot for 50.

Happy New Year!

First things first: I nursed Sam for 16 months and 9 days. That's it. I'm calling it. It's over. It's been three nights, so I think that's it. Remembering those hard first days (weeks) I can't believe I even made it to my initial goal, which was 6 months. So.

All right! Well, I read a lot of books in 2009, and I was going to count them up and tell my faithful reader (hi Steve!) how many I read, but I never got around to including the list of books I have at work, so let's just say, I read a lot of books in 2009. I think around 75. In 2010, I resolve to continue to read, but (BUT!) to start being better about using the library, and to not let on that I actually paid cash money for that awful new Stephen King book.

I definitely didn't blog as much as I resolved to, but whatever--what seems easy when you have a 4-month-old is decidedly more difficult when you have a 16-month-old. So in 2010 I resolve to blog once in a while.

I'd also like to GET ORGANIZED in 2010. By which I mean, clean and fix up the basement and attic, and keep the rest of my estate in reasonably good shape. I'd like to say I'll organize my old papers and photos but let's be realistic here.

I wrote a few poems in 2009--perhaps even the 4 I resolved to write. Actually, if you include my novel-in-verse-in-progress and the cinquains I email to Blake, I'm way over that quota. In 2010: more!

I furthermore resolve to run 3x/week, with a very loose definition of "run"--for example tonight I did 24 minutes (1 mile), 8 of which minutes were spent running, no more than 3 minutes at a time. But hey! That's already a vast improvement over two weeks ago when one minute of running made me almost pass out.

I also have some knitting projects I'd like to be held accountable for in 2010:

1) Sweater for Sam
2) Super secret present for [redacted]'s [redacted]

And as always, in 2010 I resolve to try to be a kind person, to try to do the right thing even when it's hard or unpopular, to take my vitamins and floss and drink more water, to work hard at my job, to not eat meat or too many cookies, to bake bread, to be a good friend, to not spend too much money, to coo over pictures of friends' babies, to snuggle and play with and hug and cherish my son, to support and love and laugh with Steve, to walk Harry sometimes but scratch behind his ears every day, to take more pictures, and to donate some money to Planned Parenthood.

And I'd like to sell my house. But let's not get carried away. (Darling 1 1/2 story 2 bedroom bungalow in great, walkable, diverse neighborhood, perfect for newlyweds or empty-nesters, original 1917 woodwork & built-ins, fabulous neighbors, pretty flowers, 2 3-season porches, vintage details, whirlpool tub...anyone?)

Big firsts today:

I baked a loaf of bread, and
Sam went to sleep having not nursed once.

Remember: I thought having a baby would last longer.
I'm okay with it, really I am.
Only--so soon? Wasn't it just yesterday?

Big day today!

Sam and I hit the mall bright and early (around 8). He suffered through an hour of me dithering around Macy's, and then we went to the play area, which was surprisingly nice and fun for both of us. Sam was the star of the place: he kept climbing up to the top of this little bridge thing and smiling at everyone, and all the moms and grandmas told me how advanced and brave he was. Haha!

Then we had a CaribouFAIL which resulted in crumbs of pumpkin bread all over both of us, a half-drunk latte, and $1.90 wasted on a cup of milk. (An aside: I keep being all proud of myself for ordering Sam his own milk at coffee places, and then shocked when he doesn't drink it.)

Anyway, then we headed to Target. It was about 10, and Sam was due for his nap, but I wanted to plow through. One hour and two hundred dollars later, we left the checkout line at Target, and Sam was really fading, so we had a little lunch there--he had a pb&j and milk, and I had some kind of vegetable smoothie thing. It was so fun to have lunch with him, even though the conversation wasn't the best. He fell asleep in the car, but managed to recommence napping when we got home.

Then naps were had by all. Okay, honestly, the more I type this, the less of a big day it seems, but it was a big day for ME, I guess!

I drove up to White Bear after my nap to meet Jes for an early dinner. She was running a bit late so I did some window shopping in downtown WBL, and then we went to the Washington Square Bar & Grill for dinner. I really liked the atmosphere, and it kind of made me want to move to White Bear! But my salad was a bit bland, so I changed my mind.

Then I came home and put the kiddo to bed, and that's it. Okay, I guess there's no reason for me to feel like this was a big day, but YOU shop with a 15-month-old for four hours and tell me you don't feel like it was a big day.

Why hello!

So much has happened since I posted last.

First of all I turned 29. Woo. My best present was being hugged by my kid for the first time. Steve and Sam took me out to lunch, since I had to work. We also did some commemorative photo booth shots. After work, Emily came over to watch Hamster and Steve and I went to Tanpopo, where I indulged in half a glass of wine. So basically, 29 was off to a good start.

Also in November, Sam had his fifteen-month shots plus the h1n1 vaccine and the flu booster. That was thrilling. It was especially thrilling when he woke up the next morning with a 102.9 degree fever. We assumed it was from the shots; when it didn't go away when dosed with tylenol, we started to feel suspicious. Thus began one of the longer nights of my life. His fever went up to over 104 degrees. At one point he was lying in his crib, eyes open, staring glassily at nothing. Finally, after an emergency run to Target for some ibuprofen and two or three calls to the doctor, the fever broke, only to go back to 103 the next day, whereupon I took him to the doctor, convinced it was h1n1. It was not: it was an ear infection. Still, it was freaking scary.

Another big event of November was meeting the baby of two of my best friends of all time. Cooper did not disappoint. And Shaun and Rachel never disappoint. I love living in Minnesota, but one of my biggest regrets in life is not living near them. Especially now, with the babies and everything.

Thanksgiving was spent in New York with the Brezenoffs. Highlights:
1) The air mattress we were sleeping on deflating three times in one night
2) Our nephew, who in July was barely sitting up, walking and talking and dancing and being hugged by Sam
3) Knitting with my sister-in-law
4) Tofurkey gravy and Aunt Judy's mashed potatoes
5) Sam
6) Finding out another two of my best friends in the whole world are expecting a baby in June (here's to happy, healthy babies in 2010 for all the pregnant and hoping-to-be-pregnant women I know right now!)
7) Flying home with a teething, tired, grumpy toddler
8) Sam learning the moves to "Open, shut them"

If you're wondering about book reviews, I've been keeping a list--I'm not pumping anymore, so I've lost a lot of reading time, and I've been knitting again so lost some time at night. I did just waste $20 on the new Stephen King book, however. I give it 2 stars. The first 900 pages, I give 1 star. The last 100 pages, I give 5 stars. Dude needs to learn to edit. And honestly, is necrophilia ever really necessary?

See you in January, probably.

So I know I won't feel like this in a month, but I always like the first night after Daylight Savings ends. We went for a long walk this afternoon (walking off the incredible brunch we had at the St. Paul Grill, to celebrate our third anniversary) and by the time we were heading home, it was dusk, but it was only 5. And I very much enjoyed making dinner as it got dark out. It's a feeling that makes me think of tightening a coat around myself, driving past a lit store full of holiday shoppers, walking inside to a warm, bright house after being out in the cold dark. I'm Minnesotan! We hunker down. We are burrowers.

But it only lasts so long. Winter sets in soon, with its seasonal affective disorder and its boring weekends and its staggering lack of physical activity. Luckily for us, we have malls and Steve dragged in a treadmill he found on the neighbors' curb the other day. So there's hope.

What gets me through this first part of the dark season is the holidays (our anniversary, my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years, all in a two-month span). I've always wished that the holiday season could be moved to February--it would be so much better there, and more necessary. A brighter spot in a bleaker midwinter. But that's not really an option, obviously. Once New Year's is over, we just have to trudge through. But it's not so bad, right? This year: another Scrabble tournament, a toddler who keeps us on our toes, and many, many visits to the mall. And, as I said to Steve earlier this evening as he was bemoaning the onset of the dark times, after December 21, the days start getting longer again--and if the first day of the return to Central Standard Time is sweet, that first day of Central Daylight Time is ten times sweeter.

last year, this year.
this year is way more fun.

Let me just tell you about a few of the things I've been eating of late. The squash theme, incidentally, is because our CSA has been delivering them, so I've been eating them. Shockingly, I decided I like them!!!

1. Pumpkin bread (made with acorn squash) based on this recipe. Big hit at Grandma's. I sprinkle turbinado sugar on top and do all the healthy mods (less sugar, 3/4s of oil replaced with unsweetened applesauce, 1/2 whole wheat flour) except I leave all the eggs, yolks and all.

2. Acorn squash chili

3. These pumpkin seeds (um, made with acorn squash seeds)

4. Some kind of incredible pumpkin-cheesecake muffin Krista made and brought to work for me

5. Butternut squash soup made with this incredible stuff (I used 4 cups of stock instead of 6). Honestly, that better-than-bouillon stuff deserves that five-star rating.

6. Take-and-bake rolls from New French Bakery, purchased at the St. Paul Farmer's Market

7. Amazing Greek hummus from Holy Land (purchased at Cub)

So why am I currently eating a freaking lean cuisine that's been in the freezer for six months?

So, Mercury is in retrograde! And is it ever. My computer at work has been a pain, I hit myself in the face with the car door the other day, traffic has been awful, and many more instances that just PROVE IT.

I just wrote the worst sonnet ever, too, which I can't really blame on Mercury.

Here's the thing. I have always resisted form, thinking it was too restrictive. I'm sure I made my first year studies poetry professor insane, with my inanity. I loved free verse, no capital letters, formatting all over the place, ridiculous things

l
i
k
e

t
h
i
s

like I was freaking e. e. cummings or something. Good lord! That was freshman year and I think I can be forgiven. And in following years I did cool it a bit with that crap. In fact, in college I wrote a few poems I'm actually really proud of. In free verse.

Anyway, long story short, I am digging form these days. It might have started when I read a poem by a friend that was a ghazal or villainelle or something (can't remember) and I was so impressed by it. And then I remembered another friend's crown of sonnets from freshman year (SOME of us weren't writing crap). And then I wrote a ghazal. And I freaking loved it!

So then I decided I wanted to write a crown of sonnets myself. I even came up with the perfect first and last line! But I couldn't get anywhere with it. So tonight, on my Writing Night, I decided that my task should be to simply write one sonnet, to hell with it. It would suck, undoubtedly, but at least I'd do it.

So, here it is, in all its glory. It does not, btw, count as one of the five poems I'm supposed to write this year.

Don't make fun!


CRAP SONNET

Trying to write a sonnet, I compose
lines about tomatoes, babies, hearts
none of which are right. Even when I pose,
trying to look a poet, fill the part,
apparently even my best rhymes fall flat.
It’s like walking fast through mud or water.
In other words, spinning deep into fat
silence: nothing comes out. Soldiers, daughters,
Paris, cobblestones, nighttime—all of my
best topics, empty, my keyboard ringing.
I’d pay good money for fingers to fly.
I’d trade sleep, go without food, if bringing
my slick laptop to Dunn Brothers Coffee
would breathe life in poems where it ought to be.



LOLZ, right? Ah well. It's a start, and that's the point. A little exercise. And now, having written that sonnet, a crappy free verse poem, and added four poems to my novel in verse (I KNOW!), I shall pack up my belongings and head home. Luckily, they gave me a to-go cup this time, so I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself in front of half of Minneapolis tonight.

Well, hello!

Guess what I'm doing? I'm at Dunn Bros. on Lake Street all by myself! Listening to music and drinking a latte the size of my head.

This was my first writing night. I decided that in order to appreciate my time with Sam more fully, I should have a bit of time away from him that isn't either spent in traffic or at my desk. So. Here I am.

I had this grand plan of course, to write a prize-winning poem. Didn't happen. I reorganized my itunes, spent some time on facebook, and dug through my old emails for poems I wrote in 2005-2007. Not a lot there, and almost nothing worth even glancing at twice.

Anyway. So that was my night, and then I remembered I had a blog.

So much has happened since I last updated, it's kind of overwhelming. Suffice to say we're doing just fine. Sam is cute as ever, Steve is wonderful as ever, work is as busy as ever, and I'm short as ever. LOLZ! Just kidding. I mean, I am, but--oh, never mind. I'm fine, is what I'm saying.

My recent obsessions have included Little Women, The Rural Alberta Advantage, "The Queen and the Soldier," and thinking about quilt-making. Oh, and baking muffins. And eggplant.

In case you were wondering.

(Okay, i guess I never posted this last night, which allows me to add that as I was leaving Dunn Bros., feeling young and creative and interesting, my huge bag hit the dirty-dishes tray, knocking it over and breaking the contents, and I blushed my way out the door. Great.)

A year of Sam

Sam, one day old.

Sam, six months old.

Sam, one year old.

The apple of our eye.

I thought it would begin with water breaking. I prepared for it like the books said to: Take walks. Rest. Pack a bag with a robe, lollipops, shampoo. Arrange for the dog to be fed. Read about nursing holds. Stock the nursery with diapers, wash the tiny clothes and fold them into drawers. Stack blankets. Bring the carseat to be inspected—wait in the parking lot as the woman stuffs foam under the plastic to make the levels match up. Nest. Knit. Wait. Then eat eggplant, spicy food, do lunges to bring the baby down. I was ready. The bag and a yellow-cased pillow waited. We waited. I breathlessly timed Braxton-Hicks contractions—one night they were regular, every ten minutes, and I thought Maybe this is it. But it wasn’t. The tightened tummy, the squeeze—that was just a shadow. In the middle of the night on August 19th, I woke up. My stomach hurt—bad. I thought about dinner. I’d had a chicken salad sandwich, eaten in the car on the way to childbirth class. A decaf coffee with cream and Equal, during class. Then I’d had my gestational diabetes-necessitated snack before bed: An english muffin, spread with peanut butter; a glass of milk. Had the milk spoiled? Had the chicken salad turned? A few minutes later, another burst of pain, a tightened tummy, and I knew.

The books tell you to walk around, drink water—if the contractions continue, it’s real. It was 3:30. I got up and went into the kitchen. In the dark, I poured myself a glass of water, and drank it in a few gulps. I stood, looking out the back door. The lights in the friary turned on and off. I timed contractions. I swayed back and forth. I drank more water. After an hour, I decided to wake up Steve.

For the uninitiated, it’s not like you see in the movies. You don’t wake in the night, whisper “It’s time!” to your sleeping husband, who then goes into a panic and puts the hospital bag in the front seat and tries to load you into the trunk and drive in his pajamas, and finally, meet your doctor at the door to the hospital. No. Instead, you labor at home, heading to the hospital only when you’ve been cleared to, wondering the whole time if it’s real or if it’ll stop. Balancing the pain of contractions and the distance to the hospital against the chances you’ll be sent home, told to lie down, eyes rolling behind you as you close the door to the labor ward. Sitting on the birth ball, watching TV, pacing the house, hugging the dog—I don’t have much memory of what we did that morning. I know we went for a walk, which took forever because I had to keep stopping to have contractions, which Steve would note on a small piece of paper he was carrying around. I think I must have eaten something, but I can’t imagine what. I know I called my boss and left a message saying I was having contractions and would be working from home—though I quickly realized I wouldn’t actually be doing any work. I called my carpool buddy and told her she was on her own for the day. I emailed my sister and told her the situation so that she could take care of Harry if need be. Steve played Warcraft with one hand and timed my contractions with the other. I took a couple of showers. As the contractions got more painful and longer and closer together, I decided I should call the doctor. My doctor wasn’t on call, so the one who was told me that I could take my time, come in when I was ready. Steve wanted to leave immediately, but my contractions were only 45 seconds long or so and 4 or 5 minutes apart. I wanted to wait. After an hour or so, I could wait no more, so we loaded up the car, walked the dog, and headed off. I had a contraction as the car drove away, and then—nothing. It stopped. It was over. Halfway to the hospital, faced by the thought of the L&D nurses laughing at my obvious lack of labor, I begged Steve to turn the car around and take us home.

At home again, I took a short nap, and I think I had one or two little contractions. I had a doctor’s appointment at 1—my usual weekly appointment, with the gestational diabetes extra of an ultrasound and nonstress test to make sure the baby was behaving properly. He was, of course. During the nonstress test I started having a few contractions again, and for the first time was able to watch the line go up and down on the monitor. And then it was time to meet with my doctor. I told her about the contractions, she told me about prodromal labor—which makes me think of an elephant—and said it could go on for days. A week. For weeks, I hadn’t been showing any signs of progression. Each week, she would tell me the baby was as far up and in as he’d ever be. I spent 32 weeks of my pregnancy praying the baby would stay in, and it seemed my prayers had worked. We’d even had to book a labor induction for my due date, because of the gestational diabetes. I had resigned myself to machines and drugs and probably a C-section. Instead, on the table, she told me I was dilated to one--”no, three!”--centimeters. Then she deftly performed this strange little technique known as membrane stripping, meant to speed the onset of labor. “Things will ramp up now,” she said. “I bet I’ll see you back here soon.” And in the bathroom on the way out, I saw the first small drops of blood.

We talked about dinner. We went to Target, thinking walking would help get things going, and it was too hot to walk outside. We ordered decaf iced Americanos and walked around, but suddenly the contractions did ramp up, and I didn’t want to be seen. Aren’t there some animals who hide when it comes time to birth their young? I felt like that while we walked out into the blazing hot sun.

This is where I stop remembering what happened. More of what we’d done that morning, I suppose. More timing of contractions. I tried to eat but couldn’t. I tried to knit but couldn’t. I called the doctor, and had a mini panic attack that made me miss a contraction. But she said I could head in when I was ready. I think, left to my own devices, I wouldn’t have ever decided I was ready. But finally, Steve said, “Honey, I think we should go.”

Steve says he knew it was time to take me to the hospital because something changed. I went deep into myself during contractions. I breathed in through the nose and pushed the air through my mouth, controlled, hard. We left the house around 8 p.m. I remember the drive, or parts of it—I remember being at a stoplight, Steve trying to write down the time of the contraction on his scrap of paper, trying to time it before the light changed, and I laughed and told him to stop worrying about it, just drive—as if they would turn us away without proper documentation. I remember being on the bridge over the Mississippi, looking up through the hazy August evening at the sun, haloed in the sky, thinking My son will be born tonight. I remember pressing hard against the door handle as I blew air through my mouth. I remember, inexplicably, exactly how everything looked as we turned not right into the ramp where we’d parked for our classes, but left into the ramp near the emergency room.

I was sort of embarrassed to walk into the hospital. People would know I was in labor—how could they not, a very pregnant young woman stopping every fifteen feet and clenching together, her husband glowing nervously and holding her hands. In the hallway, I pulled Steve into an empty doorway and put my hands on his shoulders, to hang down and contract. A doctor walked by and, I found out later, winked at Steve. We headed up to the room where they evaluate you, decide if you’re actually in labor. They strapped a monitor to my stomach, and Steve saw on the screen that it was flashing ADMIT! ADMIT! So we decided that was a good sign. I had also dilated more, to 4 or 5 centimeters. One of the things I remember most clearly about this part was feeling happy, excited. Steve holding my hand. Not being scared, at least yet, or in so much pain that I couldn’t handle it. I remember trying to make the nurse laugh. I remember working hard to not feel embarrassed about my body as these strangers worked around it. And then my nurse was there, introducing herself--her name was Diane and she smoked and had long fingernails and I loved her--and I was wearing a hospital gown and robe, and the nurse was leading us to our delivery room.

While Steve went outside to get our bag and call our parents, I had an IV put in my arm. I had tested positive for Group B Strep a few weeks earlier, which apparently a ton of women have and can be passed to the baby during delivery. So I had to have a continual drip of antibiotics during labor. I was glad Steve missed the insertion of the IV, because it was gory. The nurse and I discussed what I wanted to do about pain medication. I'd thought about it quite a bit, of course, and had basically decided that while I wanted a med-free birth, I wasn't opposed to pain relief if I needed it. She told me I had amazing control over my contractions, which was about the nicest thing I'd heard all day.

My memory gets fuzzy. Steve came back to the room, having called our parents (my dad said "Steve who?") and Ellen, who was going to take care of Harry. We walked around; I didn't want to go out into the hall because I didn't like people seeing me having contractions (this would change). So we paced around in the room, dragging the monitors along with us. Steve had to come into the bathroom with me when I peed, which was marginally embarrassing (we're not that kind of couple). We watched TV--the fried turkey episode of Good Eats, and then I insisted we turn off the TV when a really annoying show came on.

Then I don't know what happened. Time gets so loose. There was a clock near the bed, and I watched it. I had terrible back labor, so the nurse helped me position myself in a way that might help the baby rotate. We waited. She asked how I was doing, pain-wise, and when I said I was thinking I might want something, she said she'd measure me at 11 and see how I was doing. At 11 I was dilated to 7 centimeters. Diane told me that the hardest part was over, that getting from 4 to 7 was the toughest part, that I could make it through. So I decided to try. She also told me that she could feel that there was hair on the baby's head.

My contractions were coming closer and closer together. They were incredibly painful. I don't remember the pain at all, just like they say. I remember dilating further and further, shaking, being cold, Steve helping me to the bathroom, the nurse coming in and out, realizing at one point that the shift must have changed but she stayed on. At around midnight she called Dr. Baker (my doctor wasn't on call). She said she'd break my water, but then the doctor told her to wait until she got there. I remember asking exactly how long it would take for Dr. Baker to get to Southdale, and when she said half an hour, focusing very closely on the clock. It was midnight. Dr. Baker would be there at 12:30. I could do it.

Thank God, she did show up at 12:30. She broke my water--the second-most amazing feeling I'd ever felt. I didn't realize how much pressure there had been. But I had been almost to 10 centimeters, and once the pressure was gone, I went back down to 8 or something. I had never been so upset. I was so disappointed, so sad. We kept at it, contracting, watching. At some point during a horrible contraction Steve told me I was almost at the peak--he could tell from watching the monitor--and I almost killed him, I couldn't believe there was still a peak, that the pain could be worse. It was without a doubt the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. There were pauses in it, but they were tense, transitory.

Finally something happened. I could feel my body wanting to push. I tried so hard to not push, even as we told Diane that I needed to. I didn't have a choice--my whole body was squeezing downward, pushing, holding. Some other people--who? how many? I don't know--filed in, readied the bed, set everything up. Steve was on my left, Diane was on my right, and I let my body push.

I'm sure it must have been painful, but it was wonderful, too. Finally I could do something worth doing. It took me a contraction or two to get the timing right--the breath-holding, the body, working together. I pushed so hard I broke the blood vessels in my face and shoulders, making it look like I'd been freckled. A nurse told Steve that if he looked, he could see the head, and he says I made an amazed face--we were so close, the baby was touchable, I was doing it.

Then the doctor must have come in, but I don't remember it. I know they were all a little surprised at how fast he was coming.

I pushed and pushed.

My memory of Sam's head escaping my body puts me at least five or six feet away, which obviously isn't right. When his head came out, there was a flurry of activity: the cord was wrapped around his neck. They told Steve he wouldn't be able to cut the cord. Someone handed Dr. Baker something sharp--this, I can see, the passing of the implement--and she cut the cord. I don't remember if he cried. I kept pushing and suddenly, at 1:43 a.m. on August 20, 2008, in a burst of warmth and emptiness and water, Sam's tiny body left my body and they placed him on my stomach, and everything is holy now.

When You Reach Me: 4.5 stars
Oryx and Crake: 5 stars (reread, because her new book is a sequel)
Suite Scarlett: 4 stars
Dangerous Angels: 4.5 stars
Shiver: 5 stars

My reading time is tapering down as Sam is being introduced to cow's milk. Sad!!! Luckily, I'm not bothering with crappy books.

Fade: 4 stars
Clementine: 6 stars (yes!)
Along for the Ride (actually read this a while ago but forgot): 4 stars
Honey, baby, sweetheart: 4.5 stars
Bermudez Triangle: 3.75 stars (that score is for you, Emily, but I mean it)
Peace Like a River (re-read): 4 stars (downgraded!)

I've been on a roll of good ones!

Am now reading SHIVER. Did you know the author was discovered by Steve's editor? True story. And now she's a NYTimes bestseller (will debut at number 9 this week). Mmmhmm!

And I'm also reading DANGEROUS ANGELS. Which I bought when I was seventeen, didn't get into, and abandoned, but am now loving. See, it pays to never weed your book collection.

Hey, I wrote a poem! Yep. I believe that's two this year, and what's my goal? Four? Five? I can maybe do that.

Let's see. What else? Today we went to Ikea. Twice. The first time was an IkeaFAIL (or...maybe a BethFAIL or a WifeFAIL) of epic proportions. The do-over, after home/Sam bath, was much much better. We bought: a high chair, some dishes, swedish meatballs, kids mixed veggies, chicken fingers, almond cake, chocolate overload cake, coffees. That's on both trips, if you're curious.

Sam is teething so bad. I feel terrible for him. In the car he kept throwing his various chew toys into a place where I couldn't reach them (that sounds like a euphemism but isn't) so finally in a fit of desperation I let him knaw on my finger. Okay, okay, I kind of liked it--it reminded me of when he was a baby and he'd suck on our fingers. Wow, I just noticed (knoticed) that I spelled "gnaw" with a k. Wow. Anyway, the poor little guy. Hopefully teeth in the morning, though we're not holding our breath.

I meant to get into bed two hours ago to read, but I got sucked into the internet. Whoops!

I think I'm missing a few here--kind of lost track of what I was reading for a while.

City of Ashes - 3 stars
City of Glass - 2.5 stars
Beloved - 6 stars, obviously (really, almost TOO good)
Song of Solomon - 6 stars, obviously
Dying to Meet You - 3 stars
Also Known as Harper - 3.5 stars
Operation Yes - 4 stars
Crashed - 3 stars

I could use some recommendations, if you have any. I specifically would like a long, contemporary-ish, incredibly well-written book by an author who has written many other books so that I have a lot of backlist to read. Go. :)

Hello!

Yes, it's 11:30 and I'm still awake! Well. Let me tell you why. Last night, we went to a potluck hosted by my coworker Krista for the editorial department. It was fun--lots of babies and awesome food. And Steve got to see a kid actually in the process of reading one of his books. (I brought the delicious Smitten Kitchen buttermilk raspberry/blueberry cake, if you're interested.) Anyway, when we got home, I got into bed to read and fell asleep at like 8:45. Mmhmm. Slept right through what was apparently the best thunderstorm of the season. Depressing! But then at like 3 a.m. I woke up and Could. Not. Sleep. It sucked! I guess I'm just so used to only getting six hours of sleep a night, or something? So I tossed and turned for a while, then sucked it up and got out of bed. I have a major organizational project going on (currently mostly still in the spreadsheet stage) so I did some "research" (read: online shopping) for that for a while, read a bunch of blogs, etc. Then finally around 5, Sam woke up to eat, so once I fed him I got back into bed and finally slept for a while. Steve was kind enough to get up and deal with breakfast and all that, and I slept till 9-ish.

Anyway, then I took a killer nap around 2-5, so that's why I'm still awake!

We went to Ikea tonight. It was fun, and also very successful in terms of feeding Sam off a restaurant menu (such as it is). We've ordered off menus for him before, but the portions either didn't work, or the product was just too grown-up (spicy, or messy, or whatever). So oftentimes he just ends up eating our fries, which is cute but not exactly building healthy nutritional habits. Anyway, he had two or three of my meatballs, plus a bunch of steamed vegetables. Yay for Ikea for providing good options for kids, by the way--for 99 cents each or 2.49 for three, you get applesauce, milk, veggies, meatballs, chicken fingers, yogurt, juice, mac and cheese, etc. Plus they have bottle warmers, disposable bibs, tons of high chairs, and a little kids area once they're big enough. Plus they have swedish meatballs, obvs, so it's perfect for mom and dad too.

We bought: a toybox, a nightstand, a garbage can, some dish towels, some storage containers. And at Target earlier today, we bought under-bed storage totes. My plan is working! (cue evil laugh).

I guess we've both been down in the dumps of late about our house--now don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my house. And if we were still a family of two-plus-dog, it would be just perfect. In fact, when we were, there were areas that were under-used. Now, though, it seems we have to cram way too much living into such a small space. The location of Sam's room at the base of the attic stairs means that the attic is largely unusable (though that might change once the temperature gets better up there this fall). So we're kind of packed onto the bottom floor. Because of the economy, and our unwillingness to take on the huge project of trying to sell our house, we know we'll be here for at least another year. Rather than be miserable, I'm trying hard to figure out ways to minimize our current pain points and make the house feel more comfortable. I've been reading a lot of uncluttering/simple living blogs, and trying to take note of what areas in the house stress me out. I'm very affected by my environment, I guess. Maybe everybody is. But I care--a lot--how the house looks and feels, and when it looks and feels crowded and cluttered, I feel like crap. Which is kind of weird if you ever dared to enter my teenage/early-twenties bedrooms. No wonder those years were so difficult for me!

So that's the huge organization project. I have a big old spreadsheet, breaking down the tasks. There are about 40 parts of the project, ranging from weeding our bookshelves to adding some childproofing to hemming some curtains. I think projects become much easier to do once you've broken them down. Or maybe I just really like using Excel...

I guess the thing is, I think I have too much stuff. Man, I am really turning into my dad. But seriously. I look around the living room, where I am right now, and I could probably list 20 things in here that I really don't need or haven't used in a year. The basement is positively stuffed wtih knickknacks/memorabilia/crap. My sewing nook spills into the hallway in the attic, and I haven't sewn a thing in a year. It's so hard to get rid of anything, because I think "Oh, but what if we NEED a green toss pillow in a future house?" So I either have to accept that, and figure out a way to live with it (an immense system of storage tubs and shelving in the basement!) or get over it (garage sale!) or ignore it (status quo--and go insane!). I've chosen to work with the first two options. We'll see how it goes.

In Sam news, he is perfect and precious and adorable. I am working on a long post for his birthday, so there's something to get you through the nights. I leave you with this video, which I'm sure you've seen if you're my Facebook friend, but if not: Sam, Harry, and meatballs.

Okay, let's face it, I'm a bad blogger.

Really I've just been kind of avoiding it because life has been so routine lately--get up, feed Sam, work, play with Sam, feed Sam, go for a walk, put Sam to bed, hang out with Steve, go to sleep. Repeat until the weekend, and then replace "work" with "go to the farmer's market."

I'm starting to feel like I'm drifting, which isn't entirely pleasant or unpleasant and says more about me than anything else--I think I need to take a class, or something. I was lookign at the St. Paul community ed classes--considering sewing, pottery, stained-glass. Thinking about a poetry class at the Loft. A quilting class at Treadle.

Sam is in an odd phase, which adds to the strange feeling I've had of late. He's teething, as usual, and seems really frustrated a lot of the time. Which makes sense; if I couldn't walk or talk I'd feel frustrated too. He has actual wants now, which sometimes conflict with what his mother is doing (changing a diaper, taking him out of the tub) and instead of being able to say "I want to play in the tub more" he just screams. Which makes me feel like he hates me (and yes I know that's ridiculous; he's a baby, he loves me, etc.).

Anyway.

A milestone last night: Sam was put to bed by someone other than one of his parents. We went to Chino Latino for Val's birthday dinner, and Aunt Ellen babysat, and when we got home, he'd been sleeping for almost an hour. Perhaps not coincidentally, this morning he woke up to eat at 5:30 and then slept later than he has in months--past 8.

I just read Steve's latest novel. Or the part of it that's written, anyway. He kept looking at me nervously while I was reading. I'm a book editor, and my learning style is by writing things down, so I had to make a bunch of comments in the margins. Which made him a little freaked out. But I thought it was beautiful. And it REALLY made me miss living in Greenpoint (the book takes place there).

We've been loving the CSA lately (or at least I have). This week we got onions, zucchini, yellow squash, crookneck squash, and three kinds of potatoes. Tonight, much of it was formed into a zucchini-onion-summer squash-potato gratin, with a delicious cheddar-and-swiss sauce made by Steve. We had it with salad, and it was sooo good.

Today is my mom's birthday. It was a seriously intense birthday week--two coworkers had birthdays and there was cake, D'Amico, brownies, and the Indian Buffet. And Val's birthday.

I'm obviously off my blogging game so will leave you with that. More later, maybe.

oh and YAMS1 - 5 stars (and famous authors agree with me!)

before I forget:

SKINNED: 3.5 stars
CITY OF BONES: 3 stars
WAKE: 4.5 stars
RATS SAW GOD: 3.75 stars (this system is very precise, as you can see)

I'm only blogging now because it seems like the kind of thing that once you start doing it, everyone wakes up from their naps and you don't have time to blog anymore.

We're back from New York, obviously. It was good. I HAVE A CUTE NEPHEW. I did some shopping, we indulged in way too much eating, and I was able to see Mike, Tawni, Rachel, Shaun, and Jordan, as well as multiple family members. Sam and Jaden enjoyed playing with all the toys Grandma Geri borrowed from friends.


Then we came home, and it was so good to touch down at the airport and come home to our slightly doggish house. Harry had a great time at Downtown Dogs--he's still sleeping it off.

The best part of my eleven days off was spending so much time with Sam and Steve. Steve and I even went out for dinner sans baby while we were in New York. And we had a blast getting lost various ways as we traveled to and from New Jersey to see S&R.

What else. Well! I got a new computer, which I am using as we speak! It's a HP Pavilion something or other. I wanted a mac, but they're too expensive, and for less than the price of a refurbished macbook with very little of anything, I got a pretty good laptop with lots of cool features. So that was fun.

I knew it would work. Sam's stirring. More later. Oh, and by the way, Steve woke me up this morning screaming because there was a moth stuck in his ear. Can you even imagine?

So today is day 2 of my 11-day vacation. So far, I've taken two naps, had my favorite meal twice, made three ice cube trays worth of baby food, and walked a total of about 6 miles. Pretty sweet.

We're off to New York on Tuesday. I'm really nervous about the flight; we've flown with Sam before, but never when he was so...aware of things. Hopefully he'll sleep, or at least be content to be held for two hours. Cross your fingers for me.

We already have Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday pretty much booked. And on Friday, Danny and Raana and Jaden arrive so really, the whole trip is practically planned. I'm excited to see Rach and Shaun and Kristin and meet my first nephew for the first time. And also, to shop. Sorry, but it's true. We're looking forward to pastrami, to Eddie's pizza, to Aunt Judy's smorgasbord. Sam is looking forward to seeing his grandma and trying pizza for the first time.

This trip is going to be one of the most difficult, I think, because Sam is still taking 2 naps a day and eating every 3 hours or so. Plus he refuses to be nursed in public--the world is far too interesting. So we'll be taking short trips into the city and mostly hanging out on the island. Maybe by the next trip he'll be down to one nap a day and it'll be easier to do things. (Of course, by then he might be walking.)


Book reviews:
Catching Fire - 3.5 stars
13 Reasons Why - 2 stars
Alias Grace - 4.5 stars
Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian: 4 stars
Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat - 4.5 stars

Abandoned:
Soulless
Tombstone Tea

Oh, hello there!

Yeah, it's been a while. Sorry.

Today we went to the children's museum! Sam played in the Habitot and only cried once or twice. He and a little girl fought over some eggs. He went up some steps. A boy named Jaden threw some blocks at him. GOOD TIMES! No, but it was. Plus, it was free today! Yay!

It's Father's Day! Right now, the father in question is taking a nap, since the baby in question has been getting up at five freaking o'clock every. single. morning. I was able to get him to take a little nap with me today (does it count as a nap if it begins before 7 a.m.?) but Steve couldn't sleep. I don't know what's up with the awful sleep of late (and I know I shouldn't complain since he's slept through the night every night since he was 7 weeks old with maybe three exceptions). Teething? Compulsion to stand? The heat? I don't know; whatever it is, I wish it'd stop.

Yesterday, since we were up at 5, we went for a long walk in the morning before it got too hot out. It was so nice. The neighborhood was very quiet and we got coffees and walked all over and Sam got to go on the swings at the park. Then Sam and I went out to get Steve's father's day presents and Steve went out to work. We were going to go to the children's museum yesterday, but when we arrived at 4:20 we learned that it closed at 5. So we went to the grocery store instead. FUN! Then I made lentil soup (it's one of Sam's favorite meals) and we had salad with our CSA lettuce and I passed out while Steve and I were watching an episode of MST3k.

I just looked at the clock and was SHOCKED that it's only 11:42. I used to have to set an alarm for a 3:30 class. PM. Oh well; I like being a morning person. (Maybe not quite as enthusiastically as I did when Sam was waking up at 6.)

Now I will drink a gallon of water and wait for my guys to wake up so we can have lunch.

I am lucky to have wonderful grandfathers, an amazing dad, and the best husband in the entire world. Yay for fathers.


ASH - 3.5 stars
CRASH INTO ME - 3 stars
THE GRAVEYARD BOOK - 4.5 stars
BEAUTIFUL CREATURES - 2 stars
EYES LIKE STARS - 5 stars
SPEAK - 4 stars
THE HUNGER GAMES - 5 stars
FEELING SORRY FOR CELIA - 5 stars

LIAR (forthcoming this fall): 4.5 stars. The unreliable narrator in this book really got to me. I couldn't stop thinking about the book when I put it down. (Also, bonus points: I emailed the author with a question and she totally wrote back this long, not condescending response.)

KARMA FOR BEGINNERS (forthcoming this summer?): 3 stars. I'm kind of over this whole living-in-a-cult thing. But I did enjoy this book; just not enough to want to reread it. And maybe it's because I work for a school/library publisher but man, there is a lot of drugs and sex in this book (purportedly for 13-yr-olds and up).

KING DORK: 4.5 stars. Really funny; I loved the voice. Too much music stuff for my taste and the plot fell apart a bit at the end (though that might have been because I was rushing to finish it before bed).


While we're talking about books, are you people reading my work blog? I'm trying to drum up more hits, so if you don't mind, please mosey over once in a while if you think of it.

Do you think everyone carries inside them the secret belief-hope that they'll one day be a kid again?

I was just hit with this wave of that feeling, reading my dad's report of his recent trip to the boundary waters (here). In one of the posts he says they had chicken for supper, and I heard the word supper in my dad's voice, was pulled back to a memory of the way my house smelled growing up when it was almost time for supper.

I have spent a lot of my life feeling bad about who I was when I was a kid, and not enough time cherishing the memories of my child-self and my child-self's life. The good parts outweigh the bad (and always have, if you're careful to look). For example the way the loon call sounded from Lake Onamia on a hot summer night over the whirr of the fan. The fan is whirring now, here, in my grown-up house, where we're starting to build little memories for Sam.

I think childhood must be the point of life (besides the whole continuing-the-species thing). Sam sits in front of the French doors onto our bedroom and swings the curtain back and forth, wide-eyed. He crawls from one rug to another and lifts up the corners in awe. He squeals with delight when a cat walks onto the lawn. Being pushed on a swing is the most wonderful experience there is. Watching Sam experience childhood (I know he's still a baby, but he hardly seems so anymore) is the biggest blessing I have ever experienced, in a life that has been nearly candy-coated, it's so sweet.

Say you had a friend. Well, not a friend exactly. An acquaintance. A distant relative. Yes. Say that distant relative visited you on a fairly regular basis beginning when you were twelve or so. Not a particularly pleasant visit; certainly not the kind of visit you looked forward to or anticipated happily. The visitor came into your house. Glanced around haughtily. Made you feel plump in your clothes, almost like your skin had grown a bit too tight. Said things—quietly, always under her breath—that made you feel crabby and angry and more likely to cry. Punched you right in the gut sometimes and kept you up at night by hurting you. Say there was nothing you could do about these visits, not really—you could try to make them a little easier, by not eating as much salt (which wouldn’t make the visit go away, but might help with that tight-skin problem). You could take Advil. Say the visits went on for fifteen years. Or so. Approximately. And then say the visits just stopped. No visits. Other discomforts, visits from other acquaintances and distant relatives and actual friends and actual enemies, but no more visits from this particular crotchety relative. After a while, you’d forget about her; think she’d forgotten you. Other people—because many people have a very similar distant relative—might tell you that when the visits resumed, they wouldn’t be as bad. You might prefer to think the visits would never resume. Surely that must happen sometimes—the relative just forgets to ever come back. Right? Well. When that visitor does return, would you be glad? Would you say, “Oh, finally, old friend! You’re back where you belong! The world tilts just right on its axis!” No. You would not. You would whine about it to your husband and feel quite pissed off that your respite had been so brief. “Eighteen months?” you would grumble. “That’s it? I bring a life into the world and that’s the only break I get?”

The Murder of Bindy Mackenzie: 4 stars. I devoured it in one night but it didn't GRAB me like Jaclyn Moriarty's other books have. That's okay.

The Year of Secret Assignments: 5 stars. Oh! I was so glad when Emily found this one on deep discount at Half-Price Books. And it was so, so good! I can't wait to find J.M.'s last book (and apparently she has another one coming out soonish...yay!)

The Blind Assassin: 5 stars. This has been sitting on my shelf for like five years and I finally cracked it open because I didn't have anything else to read. And I loved it! For a while I was like, "Um, what is the point of this?" but then it got REALLY GOOD.

I feel like I'm forgetting one or two...hmm.

red lentil soup

for posterity, so i can make it again. based on this one and this one.

10 cups chicken broth (1 big can, two small cans) (could use vegetable broth--maybe would need more salt)
2 1/2 cups split red lentils
1-2 T. olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 T. cumin
1/2 T. coriander
juice from 1/2 lemon
oregano, salt, pepper, to taste

wash and drain lentils, add to broth, bring to boil then lower to simmer, half-covered
cook until pretty thick (30 mins?), stirring sometimes
meanwhile: in small saute pan heat olive oil. add mixture of garlic, cumin, coriander, cook at fairly high heat for about 30 seconds, stirring constantly. add to soup.
add a bit of salt, fresh ground pepper, dried oregano
continue to cook while feeding baby, doing dishes, sitting around
just before serving, add juice from 1/2 lemon
serve with warm whole wheat pita

I am so bored right now. Steve's sleeping. Sam's sleeping. Harry's sleeping. I already read everything on the internet and ate lunch. I can't go anywhere, because I want Steve to be able to sleep if Sam wakes up. The TV is in the room where Steve's sleeping. The other one is upstairs, and to get there you have to go through Sam's room. I don't feel like knitting. Maybe I'll just go eat worms. GRUMP!

Wow.

Seriously: Best. Weekend. Ever. (Don't feel like you have to read this; I'm mostly memorializing it for myself.)

It started off pretty perfectly. Saturday morning, Sam woke up at 5:45, hungry and wide awake. I got up and fed him, and then decided to take Harry out for a walk, letting Steve sleep in a while. It was a really nice walk: very quiet in the neighborhood, Sam in the mei-tai, Harry pulling at the leash. So nice, in fact, that when we got home I promptly woke up Steve and demanded that we go for a walk to get coffees.

Soon after we returned, Steve left to work on his next book. Sam and I were off to Mississippi Market (if you see me in person, ask me to act out the cashier's advice to Sam). We bought all manner of delicious delicacies: organic pears, zucchini, butternut squash, avocado, apples. Whole-wheat gnocchi. Yogurt. Free-range ground chicken. Chocolate chips. When we got home, Sam played on the kitchen floor and I cooked: one giant cookie and some steamed zucchini. Soon Emily and Julia showed up. Sam had just gone down for a nap, but since his aunt Emily hadn't seen him in two months (she's been in Alaska, student teaching) we woke him up. I finished up some cooking and the four of us went to Target, where I bought Sam his first bathing suit. Then Ellen arrived, and we all went to Pizza Luce. Once we got home, Sam was dead tired, so he and I crawled into bed together to snuggle. Soon Steve was home too. After Sam and I woke up, I made dinner: chicken with apples and cinnamon for Sam, gnocchi with a sauce made of tomatoes, zucchini, yellow squash, garlic (from this month's Everyday Food, if you're curious) for me and Steve. Delicious! Then Steve and I read for a while, which was wonderful: the breeze coming in from outside smelled so good (to me; the bonfire smell really bothered Steveo).

On Sunday morning, we were again up at 6. We headed to the farmers' market, where Steve indulged me by following me around while I looked for the perfect flowers. We bought a few plants and then headed home. In the car, though, Sam fell asleep, and I felt bad about his lack of good naps the day before so I suggested that we drive around for a while and drink coffees while he slept. We drove through St Paul and looked at houses. It was fun until the check engine light went on--whoops! Luckily, Sam woke up just as we pulled up to our house. I got started on my asparagus-egg-shallot-cornichon-potato salad. I ate my leftover pizza for lunch and Steve made a casserole out of the leftover gnocchi. After we'd all eaten, we took a wonderfully long nap together. Sam and I played outside for a while. Then Val and Nick came over for dinner: Steve made turkey burgers, we had the potato salad, beers and raspberry lambic, (chicken for Sam, the dream of fresh rabbit for Harry), and Valarie brought key lime pie for dessert. Delicious again! Then Sam had a bath (which was actually kind of traumatic--I was combing his hair in the tub and he put his face underwater and tried to breathe, which resulted in MAJOR tears). Once he was in bed, Steve and I watched Inherit the Wind which was quite unintentionally funny.

Today, Sam woke up at like 5, which was sort of torturous, but he fell back asleep, and so did I once the stupid bird outside shut up. Then we went for a walk, which kind of sucked because our coffee cups weren't working right and Steve's tummy hurt and Harry was being annoying and Sam was grumping. I thought the day was off to a VERY bad start. Then we went to Target and it all turned around. I got a cute skirt, for example. Then Steve went for a bike ride. Sam and I had pasta for lunch. We tried to take a nap, but Sam wasn't interested, so Steve and Sam and I hopped in the car and headed for Grand Ave., where we took a really nice long walk and had some jamba juice. And Sam slept, hypocritically.



Once we got home, it was pool time! It took about 20 minutes to get Sam in his swim diaper, swimming clothes, suntan lotion and everything, and outside for a five minute "swimming" time. The water was cold, and you could tell he wasn't all that interested at first, but he splashed around for a while, long enough for a few pictures anyway. Then he and I played in the front yard for a while. I planted some flowers, replanted the hanging baskets, and sprayed myself in the face with the hose.

That brings us to now. Sam's playing on the floor, Steve's on his computer, Harry is napping, and I am ready to start working on the giant salads for dinner. Life is so good. Honestly, best weekend ever, spent with a good portion of my favorite people ever, and especially Steve and Sam, who make every minute better just by virtue of existing.

There have been two horrifying stories about child abuse/murder circulating lately. And I can't seem to get them out of my head: I keep picturing the children, and it's so terrible. Who could do something like that to their child? I really don't get it. I mean, tonight Sam hit his head on the floor and it was kind of my fault--I'd been filming him, and he turned to look at me and then fell--



and it was so, so horrible, he was so sad and it made me feel terrible, and I just can't imagine how anyone could ON PURPOSE hurt their child, with those big eyes looking at them. I just can't imagine it. One facet of my brief postpartum depression was that I worried a lot that I would have postpartum psychosis, and WANT to hurt my baby, and now I see very clearly that I wasn't anything near that, not even on the same planet as that.

Anyway, I just can't stop thinking about those two stories, and I kissed Sam extra times tonight, and hugged him extra gently.

(Speaking of kissing: I make kissy noises at him a lot, and when I was doing that today he suddenly started making them back! So cute!)

(Speaking of cute, his second tooth poked through today!)

LIPS TOUCH: Wow, 5 stars! So good! You should all be jealous that I got to read an ARC, really!!! I didn't really think I'd like this book, but I did. Lots. I keep thinking about it.

RUINED: 3.5 stars. I liked it! But the author is from New Zealand and the book is set in New Orleans and sometimes that just didn't work. That's not the only reason I gave it 3.5 stars. The bar is so high these days, seriously. After Julia Gillian and Listen Taylor and Lips Touch--even 4 stars is harder to get to.

THE HEIGHTS: Well, I had some issues with this ARC, namely that the ellipses only had two periods which made for difficult reading. And I had some issues with the plot, too, like I still don't get what happened at the end of the book. 2.5 stars. (Same author as ZOMBIE BLONDES--this book was better.) It's told in two voices, and much of it is the same scene just told from different POVs...I liked that technique.

Today is Sam's inside-out day. He spent nine months in and now has spent nine months out.

The first nine seemed considerably longer than the last.

Yesterday he sat up by himself. I wish you'd seen the proud look on his face.

He also had his first meat yesterday, which was really bizarre for me. When I serve him dinner, I always tell him what he's eating ("Today, you're having asparagus and bananas!" or "Today, you're having rice cereal and sweet potatoes!" or whatever). Yesterday I said, "Today you're having turkey, carrots, rice, and asparagus. A great meal! This turkey used to be alive. I hope that doesn't bother you as much as it bothers me, or if it does, I hope you have the fortitude to become a vegetarian."

He fills me with joy, and I am so lucky to be his mom.

someone found my blog by googling
diaper "black strings"

awesome!!!!!

Reformed Vampire Support Group: If you'd asked me yesterday, I would've said 1 star, but I finished it today and I'm going with 2.5. It was entertaining but nothing I cared all that much about.

The Little Secret: 4 stars. Really fun, though just ever-so-slightly familiar. I figured out pretty early on what was going on, but it was still a great read.

Home: Man, I'm waffling about whether to say 4 or 5 so here: all of the book up to the last section: 4. The last section: 5. So, 4.5. Really beautifully written, and reading it before bed each night was like tucking myself into bed at the farm my great-aunt and great-uncle live on in Nebraska.

The Chosen One: 3.5. Good, but again, kind of familiar. There was a scene toward the beginning that just killed me--I was totally sobbing. But it involved abuse toward a baby, which is pretty much how to bother me, if you were wondering.

I just started Laini Taylor's LIPS TOUCH which I was very excited to find in my stack of ARCs at work. So far, so good! (By the way, if you're wondering why I'm reading so much YA--I don't exactly know. It's partially because it's semi work-related. It's also because there's just not much out there in terms of adult fiction that's getting me right now. It's also because so much of it is so freaking GOOD.)

Ag. I'm such a bad blogger.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. About lots of things, but it all seems to have sort of a theme--what does it mean to be a good person, do mean thoughts but kind actions count enough toward being a good person, how to raise a good person. It's hard to parse into blog words, especially since blogs are so...I don't know. Surface. I've thought about starting a secret blog where I'd write truthfully about the things I think about--things that bother me, things that haunt me, things I love--but isn't that weird that I can't keep a journal, but I'd probably keep a secret blog? Simply because someone might stumble upon it, and that's what would make me do it--that's what makes me do this, after all--the thought of someone reading what I wrote and being affected by it. Thinking it (and by extension I) mattered. There's so much information out there, so many people to follow and friend and connect, that anything longer than the quickest glance seems like a hug.

Emily and I were talking about this the other day and I admitted that when I get a new friend on Facebook the first thing I do--after looking at their profile--is to look at my own profile, try to imagine it through someone else's eyes, make sure it measures up, make sure it proves I'm good enough or funny enough or interesting enough. And I've thought more than once that if social networking had existed in college, I might have had more friends because I'm so freaking awkward and uncomfortable when I first meet someone (AHAHAA i typed "meat"--weird) that I feel like by the time I loosen up and let go, the person has become annoyed with my strangenesses and moved on. (Likely this is at least partially imagined, and then fulfilled by me giving up because I hate being uncomfortable.) If Facebook had existed, I have thought, then the person could look at my profile for instant proof of how awesome I was. Look at my wit! Look at my great taste in books! Look at the fantastic things I've been photographed doing! Look what my friends think of me!

I'm so sick of it. I'm sick of thinking about myself like that all the time. I'm sick of communicating with my friends and family only on the internet. And yeah, I know it's ironic I'm writing this on a stupid blog. And I have facebook open in another tab. Whatever. I'm using it less and less, and trying so hard to make my life, and Sam's life, less virtual, more awesome.

Today is the 35th birthday of the love of my life. I baked him brownies. I hope he comes home soon. (UPDATE: he's home! And about to walk the dog.)
Sam had his first fever the other day, and I had to take a temperature the uncomfortable way. He also had his worst night since the 4th trimester on Monday--up every couple of hours, and I'd clean out his nose and rock him back to sleep but it was just the worst for everyone (except Harry; that guy never cares). He's got a cold, but he's doing better--the fever is gone, he's having trouble breathing out of his nose and I suspect he can't taste things very well because he's not thrilled about eating.
Tomorrow, Steve and I are going out to dinner to celebrate his birthday.
Also, Saturday was the six-year anniversary of our first kiss. I didn't have a blog then, but if I had, I probably would have written, "Today I kissed the man I'm going to marry."

I knew the first time I saw him. Have I told you this story, imaginary interested blog reader? It was my first or second day as an intern at S&S. He walked by, or maybe my boss introduced us--the details are fuzzy, but the brief sharp thought I had was not--I thought I'm going to marry that guy and instantly thought wait a second what? but I was right--I did.

So there you have it.

Big day today. I took the day off to hang out with Steve, Sam, and Geri (my mom-in-law).

Actually, it's been a big week. Friday Geri arrived. Saturday was my grandparents' 60th anniversary party (the actual big day is tomorrow). Sunday...I don't remember what we did. Oh! Farmers market and a nice walk on Grand Ave. Monday was back to work. Yesterday I spent the morning at IRA with Emily, which was awesome--I left $50 poorer but more than made up for it in ARCs and galleys and meeting two author faves--I was especially thrilled to meet Alison McGhee, a local writer (I told her that Julia Gillian was the best book I'd read in the last 5 years--I didn't say excepting THE SPELL BOOK OF LISTEN TAYLOR, but they're so different it doesn't matter). She was so nice. Then comes today. Which I took off, obviously.

6:30: Woke up, fed Sam, curled up again with Sam in bed.
9:00: Woke up again, took a shower, ate a yogurt, fed Sam again.
10:00: Como Zoo! Saw all the monkeys, etc. Rode the carousel with Sam and Gramma Geri.
11:30: Lunch at Black Bear Crossing--not the best food ever, but it worked.
12:30: Fed Sam, put him down for nap, cleaned back porch, picked up rest of house

Then it gets a little blurry until my mom and dad showed up at 4. My mom brought me flowers for my first mothers day! We gave the grandmas their mother's day gifts (an Alison McGhee book for my mom, plus a photo collage I made of pics of me and Sam as well as pics of me and my dad from HER first mother's day; for Geri, a photo of Sam and a new webcam).

Steve and I made a feast! Turkey burgers (and a veg burger for the vegetarian), homemade fries, grilled asparagus from the farmer's market. Served on my second-best dishes on our fab new dining room table (freshly refinished and rescued from the Granddad's-fire). Then we had peach pie from Betty's Pies and a delicious cake from Byerly's for dessert. It was awesome!

Then, after my mom and dad went home, I looked out the window and saw a huge, gorgeous double rainbow. You can see a pic at Steve's blog. Seriously, the most beautiful double rainbow I'd ever seen--it stretched all the way across the sky, blazingly intense.

And I just read that my high-school friend Sara is having her twins today. She lost her first pregnancy when I was in my first trimester with Sam, so this day is a long time coming, and I am so excited for her and her husband (who I haven't met but who seems pretty awesome from their blog). Babies! The best! I said to Steve and Geri that maybe the rainbow was a good omen and they said I was crazy, but I really do think it must be something...

Oh and I forgot--Sam successfully fed himself cheerios (er...organic Roundy's tastee-os)while we ate dinner, which was really cute and exciting for me.

I had a bunch more I wanted to write about but I suppose I'll save it for another time.

Book reviews first:

PAPER TOWNS: 4 stars. I would've given it 5 except I'm suddenly onto you, John Green--the formula is becoming a little formulaic. Still, I love the way he writes teenage boys.

WINTERGIRLS: 4 stars. Beautifully written, and a really interesting narrator--there was maybe a bit too much angst for me, but I guess there had to be to make it interesting. But surprisingly un-familiar for a book about eating disorders. (Also, I met Laurie Halse Anderson at IRA the other day, so that was cool. She signed SPEAK for me, which I just started.)

THE SPELL BOOK OF LISTEN TAYLOR: 6 stars. Seriously, the best book I've read in a long time. I couldn't put it down, and I am now totally obsessed with Jaclyn Moriarty. I wish she'd update her blog more frequently.

Currently reading: HOME (Marilynne Robinson), SPEAK (Laurie Halse Anderson)

A few book reviews for this cold, gloomy, wet Sunday--

TUNNELS: 3 stars. I wanted to be a lot more interested than I was, but I think Steve will like it.

SWEETHEARTS: 4 stars--so well-written. And very disturbing, in parts. I wasn't crazy about the end; I didn't think there was enough resolution, but maybe that was the point.

LOOKING FOR ALASKA: 5 stars. So good! I love John Green. I started reading this at 8:30 one night and couldn't stop till I finished the whole thing. Luckily I am a really fast reader.

ABUNDANCE OF KATHERINES: 5 stars. Loved it.

What should I read next?

So my little boy has a tooth.

Everyone says, "Oh! It must be so cute!" Well, I'd imagine it is, if he'd let anyone near it--and really, it's not even visible yet; the only reason I know it's there is that I stuck my finger in his mouth and felt it. This strange sharp shard sticking out of his soft gums.

The other reaction is, "Good god that's scary," to which I can only nod; so far, everything remains intact, so life's going my way for now.

Life is feeling really busy all of a sudden--we've got SO MUCH cleaning to do before my mother-in-law arrives next Friday, and work is incredibly hectic, especially since Carla is deserting us for Florida. Not that I can blame her--I too needed a fresh start when I was 25, and it was the best choice I ever made (except culinarily). Plus a lot of time is now taken up by going for walks, since it's been nice out. Tomorrow, high of 80! Insane.

Sam thinks it's soooo funny when I say "No!" when he's going for my computer cord. I can't believe I have a son who can move around and put his own pacifier in his mouth and eat yogurt and have a tooth. Man, I feel bad every time I say no, though. Like a parent or something. Weird. I have to force myself to not smile and keep a straight face. Truth is, I don't even care if he plays with the cord, but I don't want to set a bad precedent. (Now he's doing his favorite thing, which is lifting up the rug and peeking underneath.

Aren't some words, like "peeking," just ten times cuter when you picture a big-cheeked little baby doing them?

I'm taking this Friday afternoon and next Friday afternoon off; I'm really excited. This week, just because I need a little break; next week, because Geri's flight gets in at 1. I think this week, we'll go to Tanpopo. Yay! And the farmers' market opens this weekend, which will give us a break from the cleaning we have to do.

Book review:
STORY OF A GIRL: 4.5 stars. I want to give it a 5, but the books I've given 5 stars to just have something extra that this book didn't. But highly recommended nonetheless. It sort of made me never want to write realistic fiction ever again, because it was just too good.

Currently reading: TUNNELS and AN ABUNDANCE OF KATHERINES.

I know, I know--I'm the worst blogger in the world. I've been too busy actually doing things of late, since we're no longer trapped in the house. What things have I been doing, you ask? Honestly, no idea. Taking walks, I suppose. Chasing Sam around the house. Working. Complaining. Not cleaning the bathroom, though, I can guarantee that.

Steve's at a children's lit conference all week, so Sam and Harry and I are holding down the fort. Currently, Harry and I are holding down the couch, while Sam naps in his room after a playdate with Beatrix and her mom. The toys! They were so available, so plentiful! It was cute to watch Sam try to chase after Beatrix...she's 15 months, and was obviously like "Um...what is this dummy's problem?" when he couldn't follow her up the stairs.

Last night we had indian food and ice cream with Val and Nick, and Sam tried naan (or, rather, was so fussy and verging on utter breakdown that I shoved a thick, chewy piece of naan in his mouth and he stopped crying and seemed interested).

And all I want in this world is a pair of purple heels, but they're all sooo ugly. Oh well. I soldier on.

Book reviews:
Zombie Blondes: One star, and that's only because it was disturbing enough for me to hate it. Recommended to those who like zombies, though. And sort of obvious allegories.

The Neddiad: I guess I'll go with three stars for this one. I liked it well enough; it kept me entertained; the writing is sharp. But I didn't ever feel all that engaged.

Bridge of Sighs: Another 3 star book. At first I was like "Good LORD Richard Russo, we get it, you're a virile not-yet-elderly man, OKAY." But despite the sort of overwhelming self-awareness, I found myself interested in what would happen next (even though it kept being hinted at--like, "But soon something would happen, and though it would be horrible and change everything, we did not know that yet," (much like The Historian did, a book I didn't much like)) and in the end I had to admit that the book was REALLY well crafted--almost too well crafted.

Ah, Friday. I'm working from home today, which usually means I get to sleep in a little, but I've been up since 5:30. Oh well.

Tomorrow Sam and I head up north to my parents' house. Since Emily's in Alaska and Ellen has other plans, it'll just be Mom and Dad and Julia and me. And Sam, obvs. I'm excited for Happy's and hanging out with my sis.

Found out the other day that Rachel is having a boy! Yay!

That's all I got. Sorry.

Oh, quick book review--

CURSE OF THE SPELLMANS: 3.5 stars. A good read; nothing I'd feel compelled to reread. And I wish I'd read the first book first.