housepants for everybody!

2010-10-14T21:26:00.002-05:00

I haven't had the time or desire to blog here much as you may have noticed . . . or not, since I wasn't that prolific anyway. But I got this fancy new phone with a fun camera app (vignette, for any Android users) and was inspired to start something new. Come see one great thing from every one of my days at onegreatthing.tumblr.com.

2010-09-05T06:58:00.002-05:00

I'm the only one awake. Maybe I should write a blog post!

Yesterday we went to the State Fair. We bundled up (it was only 50 degrees out in the morning!), walked over to Ginkgo for coffees, and then walked the 1.9 miles up to the fairgrounds. We started our day off with breakfast at the Peg -- the Fair's "only full-service restaurant" -- where Steve got a meat and eggs and carbs platter and Sam and I split absolutely delicious pancakes.

Then we headed to the Miracle of Birth center, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like -- a bunch of animals in labor. But we petted a new lamb! And saw some hatching chicks! And luckily avoided seeing any afterbirth or actual birthing. (As I said to a friend the other day, I've been in labor. It's not miraculous except for the people involved in it. Other than that it's a lot of pain and bodily fluids.) I couldn't believe how many people were standing mere inches from the exit of a cow in labor. Petting its tail! (I bet that cow was so annoyed.)

Having seen that, it was time for Steve to spend three bucks for some bacon on a stick.

I wanted to ride on the carousel, and since you can't do that with a straight face as a grown-up, I used Sam as my pawn. The problem was, he was terrified the second I set him on the horse. Which was made slightly embarrassing by the fact that we were right in front of some of our friends from ECFE--which I only noticed when I turned around to try to make a quick exit from the carousel. So then I had to stay on, holding Sam the whole time. Not the most fun I've ever had. Steve, meanwhile, drank a huge cup of lemonade.

We checked out my uncle's painting in the Fine Arts building, where we also ran into two of my sisters and their friend Sarah. Sarah tipped us off to the Little Hands exhibit. This seemed awesome at first. The kids get an apron and a bucket, and go through various little tasks. Like at the first task they get a little baggie full of corn. Then they ride a little tractor to "move haybales." Then they feed chickens (fake, to my dismay) with the corn, and get an egg for their troubles. They plant a seed and get a potato. They feed a sheep and get some wool. They feed a cow and milk it (it's fake) and get a carton of milk. They pick apples. Then--and this was definitely the weirdest part--they turn in all of these things in barrels in the "market" and get a fake dollar, which they trade for any item of their choosing. Okay, first of all, this is obviously a thinly-veiled shrine to Big Agriculture. No talk about caring for animals or anything like that. Secondly, we didn't find out till the end that the dollars--and thus, prizes--were limited to those ages 3-10. And the prizes were like little boxes of cheerios, a stuffed lamb, etc. No reason a tiny toddler couldn't have them. And there were TONS of one- and two-year-olds in that line. Steve was pissed! I was pissed too, but mostly didn't want Sam to know we were pissed, because he didn't really care. He was so tired at that point I think he was hallucinating. So I left an angry note in the comment box, as is the Minnesotan way.

After that travesty we decided it was time for lunch. We went to the food building in search of cheese curds from the Mouth Trap, butted in line pretending like we didn't know what we were doing, and then got the hell out of there. The cheese curds were great--super salty though. Sam didn't eat them. He ate cheerios Steve had in his backpack. Since Big Agro wouldn't give him any.

My only goals that day were to see the crop art and eat the fried pickles, so it was time to make some of that happen. We made our way through the super thick crowd to the pickle booth, where I got the sampler--three slices each of plain, cream cheese, and "cajun" fried pickles, with a side of ranch dressing. Delicious! My favorites were the cajun.

Steve needed sometihng sweet after all that salt, so he got some frozen custard. I wanted to see the knitting. We headed over, and it wasn't as crowded in there, but I was really getting tired. So after a little spin through the creative activities building, we decided it was time to get going.

But you can't go to the Minnesota State Fair without a stop at the Crop Art in the Agriculture/Horticulture building. Artisans use seeds to create absolute amazing works of art. I didn't take any pictures, so check out the website: www.cropart.com. Seriously!

Then we headed home. The 1.9 miles that seemed so fun and energizing on the way there were definitely not on the way home. Must've been the cheese curds.

2010-06-27T19:33:00.004-05:00

I wish I had a crystal ball, or better yet, a personal psychic--someone who would tell me at all times what the right decision is to make.

There was an open house in our neighborhood today so after Sam's nap we walked over. Just for something to do. By the time we got home we had seen three houses and were talking about selling our house and either renting for a while or buying a new house.

See, the thing is, two things went wrong when we bought our current home. The first was that we were morons. We bought this house largely because how it felt when we walked in; it smelled right, it had vintage light fixtures; it had pretty french doors and a creaking staircase and a rhubarb plant and heirloom peonies and wood floors. I still love our house. But we neglected to notice some key things about it that wouldn't end up working for us. The second thing that went wrong was that we bought on May 25, 2007, and the real estate bubble burst on May 26. I'm exaggerating, of course, but that's what it felt like. Our house is worth about --well, I don't want to get into financial details, but let's just say we lost a lot of money. I know everyone did. I know that in the long run we were lucky--nobody lost jobs; in fact, my income has only gone up--but I can't stop thinking that it's just terribly unfair.

So the agent we met today, a man who specializes in our neighborhood and has sold houses here for 10 years and lived here with his partner until they inherited a house in a better neighborhood, told us that contrary to what we sort of thought, the market is not going to be better by next year. In fact, he said that it's going to be worse and every day that goes by, our house loses value. Now, in a way, that doesn't matter--the house we would end up buying will lose value as well. In a way it's a wash.

Ah, I don't need to spell out all these details to you, faithful blog reader. You don't care. Long story short, I'm feeling really anxious and worried right now. We saw a house today that was basically perfect--three bedrooms, gorgeous woodwork, nice backyard with trees, in exactly the part of our neighborhood that we want to live in--where Sam could go to the kindergarten we've had our eye on, it's close to our favorite park, etc. I loved it. I want a house that works for us. I love our house. I feel attached to weird things here, like the kitchen window and the paint colors. I've lived here for three years, which is a long time for me--counting dorm rooms, I've lived in 10 places in the last ten years. I like our house. It smells right. I don't want to stay but I don't want to move, either.

And the bottom line thing is the finances. If we sell, we will not make any money on this house. We will end up not getting anything that we can put toward a down payment on the next house. So what do we do? I have no idea.

Other events of the weekend included amazing homemade fish tacos, a great bike ride, getting sunburned within an inch of my life, and watching like ten more episodes of Buffy.

Until the next exciting installment--

2010-06-23T20:00:00.003-05:00

Things that you should do when it's 90 degrees outside and you are locked in a battle of wills with the air conditioner: A List For Future Reference

1. Go to Target (they have air conditioning)
2. Drink a Dr. Brown's Diet Cream Soda
3. Sprinkle water on your face (repeat as needed)
4. Change into a dress (better air circulation)
5. Hook a Waterpillar up to the hose and run through it with the happiest almost-two-year-old on earth

Things that you should not do when it's 90 degrees outside and you are locked in a battle of wills with the air conditioner: A List For Future Reference

1. Feed the dog egg yolks
2. Sleep

2010-06-05T20:32:00.002-05:00

Wow, so much has happened since I posted last! For example, we went to New York. And then we came back.

Here's where I was going to say that I wasn't going to recap the trip, but you know what? The rhubarb bread's in the oven, the toddler is asleep, the husband is supine on the couch, reading, and I'm sitting on the back porch enjoying the evening air. So why the heck not.

Things didn't start well. The night before we flew out it was approximately 135 degrees outside. We didn't want to install the AC before leaving for ten days, so we didn't. I escaped the broiling house for a couple of hours to watch the Lost finale, but our flight was at 7, I didn't get home till 11, and it was so hot that I didn't fall asleep till 1. And had to get up at 5. So that was awesome. Then we had that typical craptastic experience at the airport where you think you have plenty of time, but you park in the wrong ramp and have to take a tram and no one helps you in the line and your toddler is trying to escape and your husband forgot to renew his drivers license and you wore dumb shoes so you have a blister. And your husband's editor is on the same flight.

Here is a tip for parents of toddlers between the age of 1 and 2, by the way: Splurge on the extra seat so you can strap your kid into his/her carseat. Yeah, it sucked having to buy another ticket. But being able to actually read on the flight? Amazing.

So we made it to Newark. Grandma Geri picked us up, and we all drove into Manhattan to drop Steve off at his hotel. Then Grandma, Sam, and I sped aggressively to Long Island. We had soup, took naps, and woke up just barely in time for dinner with Aunt Judy.

The next day, Steve met me at Penn Station around noon and we walked down to Chelsea. We had lunch with our friend Samantha at Elmo, and then shopped and walked around some more. Then I went back to Long Island and had chinese food with Sam and his entourage. He impressed various other people in the restaurant with his excellent utensil skills, and ate a scallion pancake.

Wednesday was my day at BEA, so I got up early and Geri dropped me off at the train. Kay and I met up and walked to the Javits center. I think I walked about a total of seventeen miles that day. I got a ton of ARCs, checked out all the competition, saw some old friends, and had lunch with my boss. The highlight, of course, was Steve's signing. I was afraid that no one would go, so I rounded up a few of my coworkers (and plugged the signing extensively while in line for other signings). But I needn't have feared! The line grew even as we waited and he signed more than 100 books. I was so proud. After I met his agent and we gathered our heavy belongings and got the hell out of there, we headed back to Long Island. Sam was happy to see his dad.

After that we kind of chilled out in Roslyn for a while. We took some walks, laid around at Geri's house, ate a bunch of food, as is our wont. On Friday afternoon Steve and I headed back into Manhattan. Steve met up with his cousin and a couple of friends for a pizza tour of lower Manhattan. After I walked around for a few hours, I met up with CJ near Union Square, had two glasses of wine that must have been triple the alcohol of normal wine, because yikes, had a falafel on St. Marks, and went home.

Saturday was GLEE! Geri and Judy and I had brunch at Blue Fin at the W, which was amazing, and then walked over to Radio City. I'd never been there before, and my knowledge of it is pretty much just the outside from working near there in my old life, and the inside from Annie. So it was quite thrilling to see it. Also I think I was one of the oldest people there. Not really, but it was PACKED with teenage girls. You should've heard the squeals when Puck came onstage. The show was great, if super loud, and a little exhausting. Once we made it back to Long Island, Steve and I went out for an amazing dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Port Washington. Yum.

On Sunday, we got up early and drove to Brooklyn, where we met Steve's cousin's baby, Rohan, for the first time. I loved holding him! He fell asleep in my arms--what a sweetie. We walked around in Bay Ridge for a while. Then we went to Fort Greene to Brooklyn Flea, and met up with two of my BFFs and their baby (who is almost a toddler now). We ate much ice cream and Uncle Louie G's. And mexican food.

This was basically the peak of the trip for me, because beginning that night, Sam began to show evidence of what was to come: a horrendous stomach bug that laid waste to both Steve and Sam. We got back to Long Island that afternoon and some more family members came over, and Sam began trying to clear the room the same way his fur brother did at the Thanksgiving brunch back in '04 when he ate a bunch of bagels and cream cheese and his digestive system couldn't quite handle it. Poor kid! It didn't get really bad until Tuesday, though, when he was really clearly sick. (In the meantime, we did some shopping and hung out at home.)

Having a sick kid is such a mixed thing. First of all, of course you NEVER want your kid to be sick, especially something like a tummy bug, which just sucks so hard. But on the other hand, Sam is an independent toddler now, and when he's sick is pretty much the only time I can guarantee he'll want to be held and cuddled. He wouldn't leave my sight while he was sick. He even wanted me to take a nap with him, which was so sweet--he rubbed my back as he fell asleep--but then quickly became awful when he woke up, sat up, and threw up. At one point later that afternoon he was napping, but he started crying, so I went up to get him. Then he fell asleep on my chest on teh couch, decided he didn't want to be lying down, and slept standing up with his head in my lap. It was awful seeing him feel so terrible, but I do love cuddling with him.

Anyway, Steve got it too, and so the flight home was dicey, but they both made it. And we picked up Harry and came home and it felt so good to be back.

So there you have it.

10 days of parking at MSP airport: $180.
10 days of doggy boarding at Downtown Dogs Minneapolis: $460.
10 days of time off spent with your family: priceless! (But it'll be at least 6 months before we do it again.)

2010-05-13T21:27:00.002-05:00

Today has been a totally maddening day.

---

Happy Birthday tomorrow to my darling husband! And today is the 7-year anniversary of our second date. (That night, we went to Sutton Place for drinks, saw A Mighty Wind, and then kissed on the platform at Grand Central...) We went for a walk tonight, and I looked down at our scrappy puppy and pajama'd son and said--Who would have thought, seven years ago, that this is how we'd end up? And if you had told me, would I have been able to predict how much I would love him--them--and how our home would feel like a small oasis where joy lives?

---

Sam and I gave him a VCR/DVD player (lolz a gift from 2002) and some gift cards. I was buying him a Warcraft card at Target--had to ask where they were. The salesguy, who was probably in his early 20s, was like "Is this for you?" in a sort of shocked/impressed tone. He probably wasn't thrilled when I was like "Good lord no."

---

Jury duty? Probably some of the best days I've had in a while. Besides the part where I ate pork. I loved taking myself out for lunch, though, so it was completely worth it.

---

Really ready for the weekend.

---

My big thought today (commuting is a good time for thinking) was how I keep having these realizations that I'm different from what I always thought I was. FOR EXAMPLE I am considered super organized at work. And then I was thinking, well, but that's based on when I was a kid! This isn't coming out clearly. Because I'm watching House Hunters and have six tabs open at the same time. (Hulu: Cougar Town; 10-Day Weather Forecast; Gmail - Expedia travel confirmation; edinarealty.com; Blogger; Curry Quinoa Cakes). Anyway, what I'm getting at is, I'm going to try to think more about not just the person I've been since birth (chaotic, sensitive, impatient, quick-tempered) and more about the person I've chosen to be (organized, thoughtful, purposeful, ethical).

---

It's pretty embarrassing that I've been listening to 107.1 on my commute home, and the tagline for the station is something like "A little gossip -- a lot of laughs!"

---

Sam isn't sick anymore. It was about a month of nonstop coughing, two trips to the ER, lots of Tylenol, and many cups of "tea" (lukewarm water with a bit of lemon juice and a lot of honey). Then I was sick for a couple of days, and so was Steve, but we're mostly better now.

---

In Minnesota you're always waiting for the other shoe to drop when it comes to weather. March and April were beautiful. Beautiful. Best spring I remember. Then it was cold and rainy and snow threatened and my peonies look bedraggled (but the rhubarb thrives). And it was like the whole state just let out its breath in a big sigh of resignation--it's returned. You're always either recovering from it or preparing for it, the cold. And I'll admit to a few weeks each October of looking forward to it. But right now, with a gorgeous forecast for the weekend, I feel confident in saying it will return--but not for a while. And this weekend we'll take walks, build a sandbox, buy flowers.

---

Happy birthday, Steve. Home is wherever I'm with you.

2010-03-22T20:03:00.002-05:00

Sam's newest words/word attempts:

lunch
banana
nuk
bubbles
cat
dog
quack
dad
Beth

2010-03-14T19:56:00.008-05:00

What a wonderful day.

It started off with a big deal (to us): Sam learned how to use words to get something he wanted. This has been a major struggle for us lately. He knows how to point like a maestro, but the fact that you could use a word to get something didn't quite click for him. He still doesn't get that he could say the name of something to ask for it, but, baby steps. He wanted his cup of water at breakfast; I said "Say please!", he said "Pease!", I gave it to him, and for the rest of the day, whenever he wanted something, he'd say, "Pease!" in this sweet little voice. I would have emptied out our savings account if he'd pointed at it and said "Pease!".

Grocery shopping, our Sunday tradition, was pretty much run of the mill (although the little deli samples at Target were especially good). While Sam napped, I went for a short run outside, and found myself totally overdressed. I was dripping with sweat after like a quarter mile.

While Sam finished his nap, I broke down the eight thousand boxes that had been languishing on our back porch. He woke up when I was almost done, and helped me sweep.

Then we went for a nice walk, during which we removed all of our outerwear. It was SO nice out. 64 degrees, sunny, just a slight breeze. And we ended up at the park.

The awesomeness of the park was tempered slightly by the angry dad yelling at his kids (actual quote: "You can see that I'm wearing a belt, right?") and the grandma who asked, "How old is your baby? Six months?", but not enough to ruin our day.

Back at home, we made dinner. One of our very favorite meals, nearly every bit of it homemade: tomato/cuke/pepper/lemon juice salad, peas, tzaziki, whole wheat flatbreads, couscous, feta, falafels. Lately Sam hasn't had much of an appetite for dinner, but tonight he was super into it. And the best part? We got to eat on the porch for the first time since last summer. LOVED it.

Oh, and I got a haircut yesterday, and I think I really like it.

2010-03-01T19:16:00.004-06:00

A few random things on this very random Monday:

1. I've been meaning to write for a while about my weighing problem. No, not my weight problem. I don't have one of those. My weighing problem, though, is probably more annoying for the people who live with me. Ever since I moved out of Rothschild E-2 in 2003, and away from Amanda's scale, and bought one of my own, I've weighed myself every day. Seriously, I could tell you how much I weighed--to the pound--almost any day since then. It has always been part of my morning routine. If I'm being honest, an unhealthy part--one pound up, and I'd agonize; one pound down, and I'd feel great about myself all day. Stupid. I told myself it was keeping me in check, but really, it wasn't--it was just making me feel like crap four days out of five. So then I stepped on it about a month ago and it told me I weighed 195. Which I felt quite sure I didn't. You can't blame 80+ pounds on eating too much salt. Anyway, so I replaced the battery, but it didn't help--now when you step on the scale, the numbers just kind of spin, until it finally gives up. And I am here to tell you, my friends, if you too are in the habit of weighing yourself every day even though you're a perfectly acceptable weight--get rid of your scale. I feel better than I ever have. Part of that is due to fairly healthy eating and a suddenly much more active lifestyle (see point 2). But I guarantee a lot of it is because I don't have to stand in front of (or on, as the case may be) a jury every morning. I just feel how I feel, which is a lot better than how I used to feel.

2. I've been running for a couple of months now, recently hitting my own personal milestone of 20 minutes without holding on to the treadmill or stopping to walk. I've been averaging about 8 miles a week. Not bad for the girl who had never run in her life before mid-December. Yesterday it was a balmy 38 degrees here in St. Paul, and I decided to give running outdoors a try. I loved it! I only ran a mile, and my legs totally ache today, but it was great. I have always thought of myself as someone who was not athletic, or active, or could possibly be good at anything that required being physical, so it was so great to run and feel great afterward. How many times can I use the word great in one paragraph? Many. The only downside was I didn't plan a good playlist beforehand so I had to run to some embarrassing techno from college that recently made it onto my ipod, but whatevs. It was still fun. A mile outdoors, in full view of neighbors! Amazing! Even when we had to run the mile in gym class I never ran it. Erin Lovaas and I walked. Yeah.

3. I have some good professional news but am lacking details, so I'll save that for another time.

4. My baby sisters turn 23 on Friday. Can you even believe?

5. Sam hit me yesterday. A dubious milestone indeed. He had missed his nap and was very tired and was very frustrated that we weren't just giving in to his every desire, and he slapped my face. After I sternly told him he couldn't do that, he burst into tears, and so did I. He has been a wonderful helper lately, bitchslapping aside. He's made bread, hummus, and eggs with me. He helps with laundry--folding and putting away--and always gets his own bib for meals. I love the age he is right now. It's hard, because he's not a baby and not a big kid, and one of the hardest parts is that it's hard for me to see it be hard for him, but it's fun and he's wonderful.

6. First sentence: "Mmmm, bread good!"

7. Mmmm, life good.

2010-01-31T20:01:00.004-06:00

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.

2010-01-17T20:27:00.003-06:00

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)

2010-01-09T17:45:00.004-06:00

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.

2010-01-01T20:15:00.004-06:00

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?)

2009-12-29T19:19:00.007-06:00

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?

2009-12-12T19:32:00.004-06:00

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.

2009-12-01T20:32:00.003-06:00

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.

2009-11-01T19:16:00.004-06:00

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.

2009-10-31T08:30:00.001-05:00

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

2009-10-13T20:55:00.003-05:00

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?

2009-09-17T18:53:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-09-10T19:18:00.003-05:00

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

2009-08-20T17:18:00.004-05:00

Sam, one day old.

Sam, six months old.

Sam, one year old.

The apple of our eye.

2009-08-20T01:43:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-08-17T21:12:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-08-07T22:54:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-08-07T22:47:00.003-05:00

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!

2009-08-01T23:55:00.004-05:00

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. :)

2009-08-01T23:27:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-07-25T21:13:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-07-11T23:14:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-11T23:12:00.001-05:00

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)

2009-07-11T16:02:00.003-05:00

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?

2009-06-28T13:11:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-21T11:34:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-05T22:16:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-06-05T22:04:00.005-05:00

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.

2009-06-05T06:05:00.001-05:00

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?”

2009-05-31T18:39:00.004-05:00

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

2009-05-31T18:34:00.005-05:00

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

2009-05-30T14:53:00.003-05:00

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!

2009-05-25T17:15:00.005-05:00

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.

2009-05-22T21:32:00.002-05:00

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!)

2009-05-22T21:28:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-05-20T06:45:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-05-14T21:46:00.002-05:00

someone found my blog by googling
diaper "black strings"

awesome!!!!!

2009-05-14T21:37:00.004-05:00

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.)

2009-05-14T21:17:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-05-06T20:01:00.006-05:00

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.

2009-05-06T19:51:00.004-05:00

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)

2009-04-26T15:43:00.003-05:00

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?

2009-04-22T18:07:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-04-18T13:12:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-04-10T06:51:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-04-04T22:15:00.002-05:00

I thought I'd have a baby a lot longer. I know he still is one, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it, like today, when he and I went to Granddad's for dinner and he played on the floor happily while I ate. Didn't require a thing except a few toys and a blanket. God, I love this kid so much. What a guy!

2009-04-03T22:00:00.002-05:00

by the way, I don't think anyone reads my blog who doesn't read Steve's blog, but he finally got that offer on his YA novel this week, so we celebrated at El Meson tonight and I ordered my first drink since December 2007. A delicious glass of vinho verde, of which I drank maybe a third because I was so paranoid about getting tipsy. Ah well.

I'm really proud of Steve, who managed to not just write a novel, but go out and talk to strangers in order to get a book deal. I've read the book, and you all should be jealous of me for that reason. It's GOOD.

2009-04-03T21:52:00.003-05:00

getting a few book reviews out of the way:

French Milk: 2.5 stars. I loved the whimsy, and it was definitely a quick read as I finished it in one day. But it didn't go anywhere and the main character/author's angst didn't resonate with me. Really cute, though, and not a waste of the hour I spent reading it (it's sketches, so this isn't an accomplishment of speedreading).

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate: 4 stars. I don't normally go for historical fiction, but I do love me some middlegrade/YA about precocious girls. I'd probably have given it 5 stars if it weren't for the awkward ooh-look-at-the-history crap like when they save up for that Coca-Cola they've heard about and also see an Auto-Mobile. At the end though, and I won't ruin the ending but it made me smile so hard. (This one comes out in May, I believe.)

Julia Gillian and the Art of Knowing: 5 stars. Another precocious girl book, but this one a bit younger; another one I read in a day; just loved it. Julia is 10 and has just figured out that the world isn't fair and things don't always go your way and sometimes no matter how hard you try you don't get the result you want. It was a plus that it was set in South Minneapolis and written by local Alison McGhee. This would be a fantastic gift for a smart little girl.

I'm sure I have more to say, but I don't feel like saying it right now--I'm going to watch Lost and then go to sleep. It's been a very long week and I'm exhausted!

2009-03-29T15:31:00.002-05:00

There's an incredibly cute, sweet little boy lying on the floor right now, staring at me and smiling.

It's been a good weekend. Yesterday Sam and I went to lunch and shopping with his aunts and grandma. He was great at lunch and tolerated shopping (he takes after his dad this way). Unfortunately, though, naps fell by the wayside, and though he finally took an hour or so nap around 7, the excitement of Earth Hour was too much and he ended up crying hysterically when I tried to feed him at 9:30. But he did manage to fall asleep (albeit without his second supper) and he slept like a log until this morning around 6:30.

We went to the Highland Grill for lunch today, which was nice. And now I'm just sitting here trying to gather the energy to get up and do some cleaning, and watching Sam roll around the floor playing with his toys.

A new book review:

Neverwhere: I'm going to go with 4 stars for this one. I loved most of it but there were a few too many scene changes and I absolutely couldn't bear to read about two of the characters (the creepy old guys). But I loved the world Neil Gaiman created and it was a fun thing to read.

Okay, baby's hungry...sorry for the boring post!

2009-03-27T21:19:00.004-05:00

My little boy is asleep in his own room. Also, tonight I'm pretty sure he pulled himself at least two inches across the living room floor.

A few book reviews:

Deep Down Popular: 5 nonironic stars. What a gorgeous little gem of a book. I'd say the audience is precocious 4th graders thru maybe 7th graders. And me. I recommend this book to everyone who felt weird when they were little girls. And to writers looking for examples of incredibly strong voices. I read it in two days, during my daily pumping sessions (so, a total of less than 2 hours) and totally, totally loved it--at one point I got goosebumps, and yeah, I get goosebumps at everything, but this time I really meant it.

Hotlanta: 2 stars. I liked it, but it was no Ni-Ni Simone. And the plot sort of fell apart at the end. Not to mention no one ever said anything; they asserted everything. That annoys me. But it was definitely entertaining.

Elsewhere: 4.5 stars (would've been 5 if not for the wolf stuff). Loved the world; Steve and I both agreed it would've been better pre-Harry Potter because some of the magic just felt really cheesy--but wouldn't have before that (I think it was written in '94).

And Then Everything Unraveled: 4 stars. Don't get me wrong; I loved it. But it feels unfinished, like there's an ending that got ripped out of my ARC. But the characters were awesome, the setting is spectacular, and I really cared about the mystery. It reminded me of Veronica Mars circa season 1.

Shortie Like Mine, A Girl Like Me, If I Was Your Girl: 5 stars. Pure entertainment. And good messages too, like Stay In School, Don't Get Knocked Up, Hos Before Bros, Stealing Is Wrong.

Now, this week's episode of Lost, and likely a sleepless night wherein Steve and I wake up at least six times each, creep across the creaky floors, and make sure Sam's okay.

2009-03-21T16:52:00.004-05:00

I had five of the best minutes of my parenting experience today. Okay, so I've only been a parent for seven months (one day, fourteen hours, nine minutes) but it was really amazing. We went for this long walk, over into the western part of the neighborhood. First, though, in our half of the hood, we walked through the playground on Thomas and Snelling because I wanted to see if there were infant swings. There were, but Sam was asleep, so there was no swinging. Anyway, then we discovered this awesome park on like, Hewitt, I think, right off Fairview. And by then, Sam was awake. Anyway, all this setup is to get to the part where I put Sam in the baby swing. He loved it! And it's a beautiful day, there were lots of kids running around having fun and people laughing as Harry rolled on some dead thing and then licked it, and Sam smiled and smiled as I pushed him in the swing. It was so, so wonderful. We both felt exhilarated. (I assume.) I love being his mom.

saturday six

2009-03-21T07:03:00.005-05:00

1. Every time the 20th of the month rolls around, I do a lot of reflecting on Sam's birth. I'll spare you the florid descriptions of labor and delivery this time and just say, I can't believe how incredibly rapid the growth between the birthday and today has been. I gave birth to a squalling, purple-footed guy who rarely opened his eyes, never smiled except in his sleep, thrust both arms into the air when he was jostled, couldn't hold onto anything besides his parents' fingers. Now Sam has a personality--he thinks Harry is funny and laughs at him; he rolls around the floor playing with his toys; his favorite things in the world are those envelopes with the clear plastic windows, for crumpling. He eats food, albeit very mushy food. He splashes in the bathtub. He sits. He snuggles.

2. Last night in scrabble I got my highest score ever--and the highest score of this tournament-that-is-not-a-tournament-but-a-marriage: 373.

3. In other news, I just finished The Book Thief. I absolutely loved it, and cried at the end. I can't believe that the writer was able to sustain more than 500 pages of some of the most poetic novel-writing I've ever read. I also don't understand why it's marketed as YA, but that's a discussion I don't feel like getting into at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning.

4. I got a haircut, and I really like it. It's quite short.

5. We booked plane tickets to New York yesterday: 6/30 thru 7/7. It seems impossibly far away right now; I think we'll need to take a little family trip to Duluth sometime in June to break up the time (now that I have vacation days again--the thrill!).

6. It was a very long week and I'm so glad it's Saturday. We don't have any plans to speak of this weekend; some chores need to be done around the house, and hopefully the weather will hold long enough for us to take a nice long walk or two. To celebrate Spring, we had tater tot hotdish for dinner last night (I KNOW!). It was delicious. And now I'd like some vegetables, please. I can't wait till the farmer's market ramps up and it becomes reliably warm out and the tulips start to grow and we see what in our small native plant garden survived the winter (and the mailman stomping through it).

2009-03-18T06:29:00.005-05:00

I think the gorgeous spring-like weather might be coming to an end soon, but not before we get another walk or two in, I hope. Although I just now checked the weather and it looks like 50s are forecasted for the next ten days--yay! We--Steve, Harry, Sam, and I--have walked about 7 miles in the last four days, which might not seem like that much until you realize that's about as much as we've walked in the last four months.

I cannot believe how boring I am. More when I actually have something to say.

2009-03-15T07:35:00.004-05:00

I absolutely love Sunday mornings. Especially today, with a forecasted high of 50, the birds chirping outside, most of the snow in our backyard on its way out. I don't love that I'm the only one awake (what is this??? I can't sleep past 6:30 anymore???), but the quiet is nice, so I shouldn't complain.

The weekend has been good to us so far. Yesterday Sam and I visited with all three great-grandparents at their various homes in White Bear Lake. My aunt is in town from Idaho, so we were all supposed to go out to lunch--well, that plan was nixed in favor of Papa Murphy's at Granddad's new apartment. You may or may not recall that Granddad had a house fire in December which resulted in him moving into a very nice Presbyterian assisted living home. That's the official story. The unofficial story is I'm worried about the poor guy--the place is very nice but it certainly isn't home. Anyway, Sam was a big hit as usual. He rolled all over the place at my grandma and grandpa's place, googling and humming and eating a 9 of clubs. Very cute.

After lunch we headed home, and then went for a really nice long walk with Steve and Harry. I put on my swampers, and Steve wished he had swampers, since his feet were absolutely soaked by the time we got home. But O! What a glorious day! Perfect light breeze, 50 degrees or so...we got coffees at the Bean Factory and walked and walked. Sam fell asleep in the mei-tai, and his head smelled like summer. Harry needed a bath when we got home, and I opened a window to let the air in. What bliss!

Then my parents came over and Steve and I had a delicious dinner at Obento-ya followed by ice cream from Izzy's. Delectable. We hung out with Sam for a while and then went to bed. A wonderful day. You can't ask for a better Saturday. (I guess you could ask for 70 and sunny but we'll take what we can get in Minnesota in March.)

2009-03-13T07:06:00.003-05:00

Ugh--I haven't been here in over a week. There's just not time in the day between getting books out to print and dealing with Sir Grumpster of Blair Avenue. And his son. AHAHA I kid--Steve's no grump; our baby, however, took a turn for the tears this week. We're blaming teething and daylight savings time.

Anyway, not much is new around these parts. I've just started THE BOOK THIEF which I'm loving so far. We're planning vacations--to New York in July and to Duluth in June. We're desperately seeking springtime. I really thought we were there, until the other day it was 6 below when Carla picked me up for work. Pinkeye has come to my office, which saw my boss running around with various forms of Lysol for a good hour or two on Wednesday morning. And I got my highest score ever in Scrabble the other night--368 (I think). I also casted on for what Val and I are calling "the owl blanket" -- it will hopefully eventually become 6 feet by 6 feet of Cascade ecological wool, mahogany brown, featuring this sweet cable.

That's it. Enjoy your Friday.

2009-03-05T19:41:00.003-06:00

Some random things about today.

* Pictures of babies with teeth give me the chills. Like, horror movie chills. I can't stand the sight of them. I'm so freaking scared!!!

* My annual review is next week. I'm kind of nervous.

* Emily and I signed up for a CSA through work. That was probably the bright spot of the day, and unfortunately it happened at like 8:30 a.m.

* I was on an amazing winning streak at Scrabble until tonight, when Steve distracted me with matzoh balls that were...let's just say "dense"...and kicked my ass by over 100 points. To be fair I tried to use the word "dazily."

* Finished the final book in the Twilight saga. Um...okay. I know I'm not really one for pretense on this here blog; my two loyal readers (Hi Mom! Hi Steve!) can be assured that I'm not ever trying to be something I'm not or hiding something or whatever. So I may as well tell you I closed the book and something inside me died a little--and not because I'm ashamed that I read those books, but because...I'm really going to miss them. Yeah, they're badly written. Yeah, they're misogynistic as hell. But . . . they're so ENTERTAINING. And really, isn't that what books are supposed to be? I talked to my boss about it, and he summed up how I felt when he said, "I just have to keep turning the pages to see what happens!" Yes, exactly. They're not good books. But they're sort of amazing books anyway.

* Can't stop eating girl scout cookies. My favorite is and always will be Samoas/Caramel DeLites (and luckily, Steve hates them so I don't have to share). I also like the shortbread cookies quite a bit. Cookies have sort of been the theme of the last couple of weeks...I've been on a cookie-baking roll ever since I found out that when you soften the butter by microwaving it down to a liquid, you make the cookie gross. Problem solved--I'm not actually a bad baker, I just didn't know what I was doing. Voila! And then I found some I Can't BElieve It's Not Butter for baking and it doesn't have cholesterol and while it's not nearly as good as butter, it is practically healthy! Practically.

* That's all I have for today. Happy Thursday.

2009-03-04T18:49:00.002-06:00

So I just changed Sam's diaper. And...first, navigate thyself away if baby poop is something you don't want to hear about. NO texture or smell discussion, promise, but you can't say I didn't warn you.

So anyway. Diaper. Changed. And in the old one were all these little black strings. Friends, I freaked the F out. Here are my thoughts, in the order I had them:

1. WORMS!
2. HE ATE YARN!
3. SOMEHOW HARRY IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!
4. I SHOULD CALL THE PEDIATRICIAN!
5. GOOGLEGOOGLEGOOGLEGOOGLE

Oh. Right. Bananas. Carry on.

2009-03-01T00:20:00.004-06:00

I should be sleeping--and I am, in fact, tired, too tired to read the EW.com Lost stuff I was trying--pretending--to read. But I napped so much today that I'm afraid I'll wake up after just a few hours asleep and so I'm wearing myself out by staring at the computer.

Nothing's new, with the glorious exception of Steve's imminent book deal. About which we are, of course, very excited. We had an awesome dinner to celebrate, chicken (which Steve cooked; I've lost my confidence in cooking meat) with artichokes and capers and parmesan over angelhair and broccoli (I cooked the rest of it), and the sparkling pear juice that's been in the fridge since New Year's. Steve even had a beer. It was a glorious evening. And by the way--this book of his is so good. So good.

And I suppose it might be new that Sam appears to be getting a tooth or two, although I've thought he was teething since he was about 8 weeks old. It does seem way more intense the last few days, though, and this morning he woke himself up with some sort of weird night terror and I remembered hearing him cry out a few times in the night and maybe that's related. Who knows. Motherhood--it's all a bunch of tea-leaf reading.

Today I woke up early, fed Sam, went back to sleep, then got up and had breakfast (he had rice cereal with apples; I had Essentially You with red berries (the Rainbow generic of special K)). Then we sat around, as we are wont to do. After that Steve got comfy on the couch with Warcraft and Sam and I headed to Highland Park to see my sisters--Emily and Julia turn 22 on Thursday and it's become a bit of a tradition to get together for a highly caloric meal when it's one of our birthdays. We ate at the Highland Grill, which has always been a favorite. My turkey burger was a little boring, though--it's usually so good. IDK. But the creme brulee was great. And Sam sat in a high chair which was exciting for me. However, one of the problems with going out with an adorable baby is that everyone under the age of 25 and everyone over the age of 55 seems to think they should stop, talk to him, ask him his name/how old he is, and touch him. It kind of weirds me out. First of all, he can't talk, and when you ask his name or age I feel obligated to respond, but I feel stupid because you didn't exactly ask me. Secondly, please don't touch my kid. I have no idea where you've been and it's still cold and flu season.

The whole experience led Ellen to point out that St. Paul is just like a small town, and she's totally right--though I added that it's like a small town where you don't know anyone, which is what makes it so livable.

Anyway, it was fun. And then we came home and napped for another three hours. And didn't have the salad we'd planned to have, which saddened Steve. For dinner, I had cream of wheat (with some ground flaxseed mixed in) and it made me wish I was a little girl and my dad had made it for me. And that made me kind of sad because that's always been one of those things for me--if I had kind of a bad day, or whatever, my dad would say, "Do you want me to make you some cream of wheat?" He still says it on the phone, if I'm whining about something. I think the last time was either when I was pregnant and stayed with them over Easter weekend, or else when I was between New York and Minneapolis and staying with them. Anyway it made me kind of sad because he makes it the best but now I'm a grownup and I have to make my own cream of wheat.

Let's see, what else. I'm reading the last Twilight book. 5 stars. No more comment. And I recently finished DESTROY ALL CARS (it's not out yet but I found an ARC at work)--3.5 stars. It's by Blake Nelson, who wrote my teenage self's favorite book, GIRL. I won't remember this one for the rest of my life but it was entertaining and fun. And I also read UGLIES by Scott Westerfeld--3 stars. I would have given it 4 except that there was an annoying writing affectation in it--he used "purchase" in the sense of "grip" about ten times and I HAAAAAATE that. A certain school of SF/F writers always does that and it just drives me insane, especially multiple times in a short span of pages. Other than that though, I really liked the story--I am a sucker for dystopias--and I want to read the rest of the trilogy, though I may not actually pony up the cash for them.

I could seriously write in this blog for hours--I was about to go off on a tangent about buying books and the library and how Borders would be doing better, at least the one on Hamline and University, if they'd patch up their carpet and maybe hire some less-weird staff--but I think it's time to get ready for bed.

2009-02-23T05:51:00.002-06:00

www.wordle.net

2009-02-21T14:19:00.002-06:00

Today, in short reviews:

Mississippi Market = B
I'd give it an A if it weren't so freaking expensive.

Organic avocado for Sam = A
His favorite food yet!

Oatmeal-chocolate chip-cranberry cookies = C
I'd give them an A if I hadn't eaten eight cookies worth of dough

Going out to see a movie = A
We haven't gone out yet but I can already tell it's gonna be good.

Snow emergency = F
Goes without saying.

2009-02-19T21:33:00.004-06:00

What a difference six months makes.

2009-02-19T07:30:00.004-06:00

Six months ago right now, I was in early labor. Right about now I was calling the doctor's office, asking if 45-second contractions four minutes apart meant a baby was imminent. It did not, as it turned out, since three hours later, the contractions stopped (o the frustration--on the way to the hospital, no less!).

Yesterday my mom was over, and she looked at Sam playing happily on his activity mat and said, "Wouldn't you have felt so much better that first night if you'd seen a picture of this?" And yes, yes I would have. But then I wouldn't feel so proud of that first night. How it felt like sacrifice even though it was just the biological imperative. How it felt like I was the first and only mother to ever wake up after two hours of sleep to feed--painfully--her squalling, tiny infant, his little purple hands and feet beating against her. How exhilarated I felt in the morning, when Steve whispered, "Oh my god, the baby," or whatever it was he whispered that meant "Crap, did we forget to feed him?" and I whispered back, "I took care of him all by myself, I got up twice."

I'll remember that feeling for the rest of my life. I know I've written about it already, and it seems strange to talk about that on the 6-month anniversary of the biggest, most tiring, craziest thing my body has ever done (Sam was born very early on the 20th so most of the action happened on the 19th). I guess now labor seems like a distant memory whereas that awful first few days still feel so fresh.

Not that I'm not proud of giving birth to Sam. I still can't believe it, sometimes. I can't believe I did it, without drugs, by myself. Except for a little help at the end. I had such a medicalized pregnancy, beginning at six weeks when we thought I was losing him--I had something like 20 ultrasounds, I went to the doctor way more than most women have to, I pricked my finger four times a day for three months and wrote down my blood sugar in a little book (which is in Sam's baby book now). It seemed like everything that could go wrong did. But that's not true at all, of course, since I have a healthy, beautiful son sleeping in his little crib right now. But my point is, after that pregnancy, to have a very short, uncomplicated labor and delivery--I only pushed for seventeen minutes--I still can't believe I did it.

I do wish I could go back to that woman who, six months ago, sat on this couch trying to drink water and watching her husband excitedly write down the length and time of each contraction (while playing Warcraft). I would whisper in her ear, "The first two weeks are going to suck, but you're going to love being a mother more than you've ever loved anything in your entire life. Everything that is hard will get easier. Just keep going."

Although I did it anyway, so I guess I didn't need the heads-up.

Today is Sam's six-month well baby visit. We really hope we get the good nurse.

2009-02-15T17:54:00.003-06:00

What a nice weekend it's been so far.

I would normally run through everything we've done but honestly, I don't feel like it and it's probably boring. So here is a little list to break it down for you.

1. solids
2. Aldi
3. Target
4. Groveland Tap
5. MOA for 30 minutes
6. parking at MOA for 45 minutes
7. molten chocolate cake
8. Izzy's vanilla
9. naps
10. Harry's sixth birthday (today!)

And now Sam is sitting in my lap while old-school Rilo Kiley plays on the stereo and Harry walks around with his weird new toy and sniffs Sam's baby einstein mat. And I'm starting to feel that icky Sunday evening feeling and remembering I better get everything ready for tomorrow so I suppose that's enough blogging for right now.

2009-02-14T01:13:00.004-06:00

I'm awake--very late for me--because Sam and I took a delicious nap between 5:30--7:30 tonight. I was just exhausted for some reason, and it was so nice to fall asleep with him on the couch. And honestly, I'm pretty tired now, but it's so rare that I have this much quiet, alone, no-need-to-wake-up-early time that I guess I'm just taking advantage of it.

Steve and I have been discussing a lot lately how sometimes when we look at Sam we just want to cry from how much we love him. It's the most unbelievable feeling. He has been the sweetest lately; all smiles and laughs.

What a happy Valentine's day--my three sweet valentines to share it with. I include Harry only because it's almost his birthday. I kid, Harocious, I kid! But he barked about 10 minutes ago, nearly waking up Steve and Sam, and I almost killed him for real. Not for real. But almost.

While Steve was at a meeting the other night (which--news TK!) Sam and I went to Target for Valentine-making supplies.

--an aside: he has this Baby Einstein activity mat, the one BE thing we own, which has this musical star on it. When he grabs a toy or hits one of the arches, the musical star plays. And hand to God, that musical star has made me insane. I hear it now, and it's not on. Doot DOOT doot doot doot doot doot doot doooodillloodddilll doot doot DOOT!--

Anyway, so we went to Target. Bought supplies. Cards, crayons, and fingerpaints. I put him in his bumbo in a onesie (the lingo of motherhood is so funny, isn't it?), squeezed the weird, gel-like paint into a bowl, put a card in front of him, and dipped his hands in. He immediately shat, so I knew our time was limited (he doesn't mind sitting in warm poo, but the second it starts to dry--and I don't blame him for this--he freaks out). Ten minutes, two outfits, and one diaper later, we had 10 adorable little red-smeared cards that will be late to their recipients but probably worth the wait. Today he signed them--he sat in my lap holding a crayon, I held the card under his hand, at some points the crayon touched the card. Good enough. Maybe I'll post the video of the card-making once they have been received.

I want Sam to enjoy art. I remember loving to draw, paint, whatever when I was little. I loved it! But the perfectionism thing got to me, and since I wasn't the BEST, since I didn't get lots of attention for my amazing drawings of houses (I was obsessed with drawing houses--I still remember one I drew in the church basement one day) I decided I wasn't good at it. And now, I think that hey, maybe I wasn't good at it, but who cares? Art isn't really about being good, you know? I mean it is, but it's also more about confidence and meaning and enjoying it. And I've found in the last few years that I really love visual arts, whether that means knitting or posed photographs of my very agreeable kid or whatever. And I love looking at design blogs and craft blogs and browsing through etsy. Okay, a lot of that is that I love shopping, but it's also that I like looking at pretty things. Anyway, all of this is to say, I hope Sam never thinks he's not good at art. If he does, I have valentines he made when he was not even six months old to prove him wrong.

In other news, I just watched the new Lost ep and omg this show is amazing this season. I love Eloise Hawking and I'm glad Charlotte's dead (and I wonder--is she Penny's sister? CHARLOTTE/Charles Widmore's kid???) although she was getting interesting there at the end. Sawyer continues to disappoint largely because of his horrendous acting skills, and where is Hurley, but overall? Really good!

2009-02-12T05:29:00.003-06:00

things that I love:

1. how the living room feels without the coffee table taking up prime real estate
2. that it's lighter, later
3. comfort food potlucks
4. surprising husband with treat of brownies, hand pies upon his return from class
5. giving Sam a bath
6. reading Martha Stewart Living (I KNOW!) while eating Cream of Wheat and watching Sam play on the newly open floor in the living room
7. that the weekend is so near
8. matzoh ball soup

2009-02-08T07:05:00.005-06:00

I'm sitting around waiting for Sam to wake up so I can feed him and go back to sleep. I would still be sleeping, except I was sleeping soundly, enjoying a weird dream about a humungous SLC/OHS reunion at Kevin and Deb's house on the beach, when I distinctly heard Steve say, "Beth!" I woke up and it hadn't happened; he was sleeping and so was everyone else in the room (Harry, Sam) but I was wide awake because I immediately was like "Was that maternal instinct telling me something's wrong with Sam?" and I had to check him three times and then I was too awake to fall back asleep.

Yesterday was a nice day, but it went by too fast. I was out late on Friday night at our company's annual party (which was surprisingly fun, plus my team won Family Feud!). So I took an early nap yesterday at like 10:30. Then Valarie and I went out for lunch and yarning, during which Val came up with an excellent project idea for me that maybe I'll share if I get around to doing it. After I came home and fed Sam, we put him in the mei-tai and tried to go for a walk, but made it as far as the corner before we decided to go to B&N instead. Then, since we were in Roseville, we hit up Babies R Us and the ridiculous store-closing sale at World Market.

It was kind of hard to drag my magpie-self out of World Market. Before Sam was born, I was always buying stuff for my someday-house. That house is beautiful and comfortable and clean. But more than that, it's full of interesting, pretty things--antique cloth napkins, framed art from children's books, small bird figurines. For years I've been populating that house, the trouble being that my actual house, my today-house, doesn't exactly have room for those things. Now that I have a kid, I feel guilty spending money on things for the someday-house, but it makes it very hard to leave things like the massive clearance at World Market empty handed. (So we bought some chocolate, some chips, a table runner, and a weird retro toy Steve is pretty amped about.)

I think the someday-house dream should probably die. Not that I shouldn't aspire to a beautiful, comfortable, clean life; but that I should stop holding up the today-house against the someday-house and feeling that I'm always coming up short. The kitchen is always too dirty, the floors are too scratched, the walls aren't painted precisely enough, the shades have water stains, the fascia is peeling. But Sam's room is bright and he stares at the lion for hours, and our bed is soft and comfortable and warm, and we have room enough for the four of us...(the dog, of course, I'm not making some kind of "Irish twin" announcement). Maybe eventually the someday-house will be a reality but for now, maybe I need to pull out those antique cloth napkins and start using them...

Anyway, after heading home I made rice and beans but burned them because I was busy taking pictures of Sam. So we had pasta for dinner, and Steve kicked my ass at Scrabble (348-247), and Sammy laughed a lot. Today we need to go grocery shopping and to Costco...and I desperately need to clean the house; whether it measures up to the someday-house or not, it's filthy.

2009-02-04T19:42:00.005-06:00

I've been away from this blog for too long so it's hard to dive back in.

New York was great, albeit sort of stressful. The highlight was definitely Sunday, when Jordan made me breakfast (eggs scrambled with roasted squash and kale and zucchini, and salad with apples and cucumbers and avocado and olive oil--so good) and tea (wild berry) and then he and Sam and I walked (well, he and I walked, Sam slept in the mei tai) from 103rd street to somewhere in the 50s where we had lunch with Steve before Steve, Sam, and I headed back to Long Island. It was also fabulous to see Rachel (possibly the only time I'll see her while she's pregnant) and Shaun and Rose on Saturday, and watch them play with Sam.

A personal achievement was nursing Sam in public (thanks, Hooter Hider, for giving me a bit of confidence despite your horrible name!) on two airplanes, at Starbucks on 30th and Park, and in Jordy's apartment.

Jordan's apartment, by the way, is like a little jewel box, full of totems and light. Our Sunday was so perfect--we walked down the island of Manhattan fairly close to the west edge and talked about vastness and identity and jealousy. He hugged me fiercely after lunch before heading up toward Columbus Circle to catch the train.

Sam was so good. The flight to Newark was delayed and there were tears, but he was really good on the flight itself and after a really treacherous landing let out a big WHEW! that made me so happy to have a little boy in my family. He was great in the city, too--except the lunch with Jordan and Steve, during which he was sort of inconsolable, but that's okay, just keeping me on my toes I guess. He went on his first train ride and on his first subway ride and just was generally perfect. Obviously. He even napped at Aunt Judy's and at Jordan's. I was proud.

Now I'm two days back into the grind. Work is stressful and like a puzzle of dates and words. The house is a mess. I've been eating like crap. But it's nice to be home. Right now Sam is snoring away in his swing, Steve's at class, Harry's in our bed probably licking his paws, and I am enjoying the quiet evening. I'm trying to not think too much about the feeling that came over me at Starbucks when I realized how comfortable I am with Shaun and Rach, how my laughter always feels real, how with Jordan I always feel smart and eloquent and cared for. I'm so glad I have Valarie (and, it goes without saying, Steve) and my family and my work friends, because otherwise I'm afraid I'd be going totally crazy here, kind of anchored away from everyone, taking too long to get comfortable and losing my footing in the process and always having to start over. Now that I have Sam and Rach is pregnant I miss them more than ever--how nice it'd be to be able to share these experiences more closely.

But I soldier on! I'm turning into kind of a downer, huh??? I don't mean to. I guess I'm just feeling kind of reflective tonight. It's that damn 25 things meme on Facebook...

Here is a list of what I ate in New York:

pastrami on rye, pickles, and matzo ball soup at Deli on Rye
bar pie at Eddie's Pizza
fish, shrimp, and chicken tacos from Green Cactus
chicken kebabs from Chicken Kebab
a variety of delicious delicacies from Hunan Taste
Irish oatmeal and orange juice at Cafe Penelope or possibly Penelope Cafe
grilled chicken torta at some Mexican place on 9th Avenue
pizza from Vincent's

It was sooo good, my friends. So good.

And with that, the longest, most navel-gazing blog post of all time, I bid you adieu.

2009-01-28T06:49:00.003-06:00

I only have about ten minutes before Emily picks me up for work, but a quick note: we're leaving for New York this afternoon. All the various things are packed for all of the various people and animals we are responsible for. Sam's bringing more clothes than I am. Seriously, I'm proud--I used to take a huge suitcase home for the 5-day Thanksgiving weekend, and now I'm taking up less than a quarter of that same suitcase. I never thought it would happen to me, but motherhood has changed my clothing...I prefer flats (!!!) and jeans to boots and skirts...at least this year.

I'll see some of you in the city...the rest of you, please wait patiently for more blog updates, possibly from Long Island.

2009-01-24T02:00:00.002-06:00

god, you guys, I'm still awake.

I wanted to mention that I'm reading the Twilight books and am TOTALLY SUCKED IN.

That is all.

2009-01-24T01:19:00.003-06:00

Dudes, check that timestamp--this is officially the latest I've been up in months. I mean damn, my wake-up time is only four hours from now. (Please, Sam, let me sleep a LITTLE longer today...please!)

This is no burst of energy--Sam and I took a nap from approx 5 to 7:30 this evening, totally blowing the dinner I had planned (rice and beans; it takes too long, so we had pasta) but making it possible for me to FINALLY watch the season premiere of Lost after he went to bed. Yeah, I watched it, but I have to say, I was underwhelmed. Maybe after I read the Doc Jensen EW columns I'll feel more excited, but from all the hype around the workplace I guess I expected more...bang for my buck.

So as you may know, we canceled our cable about 6 weeks ago. Longest six weeks of my life! No, I kid. It actually hasn't been bad at all. I barely miss it. There's no good time to watch anyway, since we're trying to protect Sam from the ill effects. I used to turn on the news before work, but now there's no time for that; we used to watch while we ate dinner, but now we all eat at the table; gosh, this summer we watched at least three eps of 90210 (the original) a day. At least! Those were some good times. But that all fell by the wayside when we realized that our baby, with his impressionable brainwaves, stared at the TV whenever it was on. Anyway, all this to say that since then I've watched maybe an hour of TV total, and most of that was online. And now I kind of hate TV! I'm fully one of THOSE people now, the kind who shun TV and glare at you when you don't recycle your coffee stir stick at the office...the kind who complains about third-hand smoke and washes out ziplocks. True story!

So Sam's rolling over now, both ways, and I have to say, if you ever need a lesson in determination, watch a five-month-old working on a roll from back to front. It is seriously inspiring. Last night I sat and watched him for a while, trying to figure it out. He's been getting onto his side for a while, but couldn't work out that last bit--remember, his head still weighs about the same as the rest of his body. So gravity's working against him in the equasion. Anyway, he struggled and struggled and fell back and cried with frustration and despair, but then--here's the "takeaway", the "teaching point," the lesson to learn--then he kept trying again! And he did it. I was so proud of my sweet little guy. Now he spends most of his time trying to roll onto his stomach, then flipping back to his back, and so forth. I think we've got to face facts . . . babyproofing time is upon us.

On a more personal note. I've been stressed lately about whether I'm a good mother. See, I spend 50 hours away from Sam every week. And to back up: on maternity leave, Sam spent most of his awake (and much of his asleep) time in my arms. We were constant companions. And in fact, I think Steve felt nervous then about his parenting ability, since I was so much more easily able to soothe and calm Sam, put him to sleep, etc. Now the tables have turned, since like I said, I spend 50 hours away from Sam and Steve spends 50 hours a week alone with Sam. And to make it worse, when I'm home, I feel like I have to be constantly focused on the baby, playing with him or educating him or whatever. Because our time is so precious. Whereas Steve feels like their time together is fairly limitless, so he's way relaxed and laid back about the whole thing. So he's like, Dad of the Year (for true!) and I'm Nervous Helicopter Mommy. Which just makes me feel like I suck, especially compounded with the fact that Sam really likes Steve. Not that he doesn't like me, but he just thinks Steve is the cat's pajamas. And I think it has something to do with the fact that I feel so desperate about our time together, like it has to always be Quality and we have to always be Bonding and Enjoying Each Other.

To illustrate: Steve's like "Hey Sam, I'm going to play warcraft, I'll buckle you into your high chair, here's a schmata to play with! [fart sound with mouth]", and I'm like "Sam, I love you so much, and I am so aware that in not too long, you will grow up and grow away from me, you'll never love me as much as I love you, I'm sorry that I have to work but we need health insurance and I like my job, and I want you to have a strong female role model and also to have a mother who has a full sense of self, and I want to nourish you and take care of you and make sure you're being stimulated and read to and encouraged and not grow up to have anxiety problems or low self esteem or bad sleeping habits, and I want you to find a loving partner who is supportive of you, and if you're gay That's Okay, I just want you to be happy, you could never do anything that I would disapprove of, short of murder of course, and even then if it was self-defense or for a really good reason I would understand, and please don't grow up too fast because I love being able to smell your head whenever I want to and take naps with you and I don't think I can do that past the age of like, three or four without it getting a little bit awkward, and I love you so much, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, remember when you used to live inside my body and I could feel you sliding under my skin? [fart sound with mouth]"

I mean who would YOU rather hang out with?

So I guess, like the rest of my life, the lesson here is to calm down, to not take it so seriously, to just Play. But that's historically very hard for me. Obviously. And the harder I work on it, it's almost like it just makes the problem worse because I'm forcing it too hard.

I don't know. I need to get over the fact that I have to work. I try to remind myself that I would hate being a stay-at-home mom; I love the social aspect of work, I love what I do, I feel like I have potential within my company, I think I'm doing a good thing and staying afloat financially at the same time, and as a hermit, I need the mandatory getting-out-of-the-house part. I guess I just need to keep reminding myself to calm down, to try to just appreciate the moment, to just have fun with my sweet little guy.

Oh! Speaking of fun, I got my new Mei-Tai. LOVE IT! (Though Sam's not crazy about it . . . yet.) Seriously, best ninety bucks I've ever spent. I can't wait to schlep Sam around Manhattan in it next week. We already have a pretty full weekend planned while Steve's at SCBWI. I'm excited. But no one, my friends, is as excited as Grandma Geri.

And on that note, well, I guess I should probably go to bed. Goodnight, internet.

2009-01-21T18:26:00.004-06:00

Sam's asleep, as you may have guessed, seeing as how when I'm home, if Sam's awake I'm generally feeding him, changing him, holding him, playing with him, or just staring at him (thus too busy for blog updating).

I had a bunch of things I wanted to say about the inauguration. We watched it in the big conference room at work, all of us crammed in there staring at a fuzzy tube that thankfully had pretty good sound. We didn't cry, as far as I could tell, though it was certainly moving--maybe just not emotion-shaking. The local Fox affiliate cut out just before Elizabeth Alexander's poem, so I missed that and was disappointed. I hear the reading was terrible, but I read the poem today and loved it, and thought, man, how stressful to have to write a poem for the PRESIDENTIAL INAUGURATION. I mean I got stressed out when it was my turn to workshop! (Actually, I didn't--I loved it when it was my turn to workshop. I'm kind of self-absorbed.)

Anyway, the things I wanted to say had to do with various funny comments people made during the broadcast, something about that gorgeous John Williams (right?) piece, which I loved, maybe something about the proud, statue-still way President Obama held himself during the ceremonies, his smile when he or John Roberts screwed up the oath (which was it?). I don't remember what though. But it was a great moment and I loved experiencing it. It was fun! Even though we were at work, in the conference room, someone typing away at her laptop at the end of the table (at the end of the inauguration she slammed it shut and said, "Well, I hope he can do it," and left, and I was like...I really don't think that's the point).

Incidentally, Moonrat has a great post up, a letter to President Obama, and I couldn't have said it better.

Tomorrow, the great cubicle move of 2009, and hopefully the last. Fun! I'm just moving around the corner, but I like my new cube much better than my current one--for one thing, it's smaller, and if you've ever flown on an airplane with me, you know I get kind of weird about space--I prefer to NOT sit in the exit row, because it's too much room for me, I feel too exposed and can't properly put my knees up. Although now that we fly with Sam, that's not really an issue, but still.

By the way, I've realized how parents get so much stuff done--multi-tasking. At this moment I am navigating four browser windows, reading a magazine, marinating tofu, and typing this very entry. Amazing.

What I've learned from the magazine I'm reading is that I want to try Mort's Deli and wonder if I have a husband who will want to go there with me. Dara is raving about it!

Sam's crying--goodnight! Don't spoil Lost for me!

Bon hiver

2009-01-20T05:29:00.003-06:00

Today is a big day, people! You know, last year at this time I was about nine weeks pregnant. I couldn't have imagined then that the little boy growing inside me would form his first memories during the Presidential administration of a self-identified black man. Wow! I'm pretty amped. (And not just because he's the first nonwhite president.)

Treadle Yard Goods, a fabric store on Grand Ave., has mannequins in its window holding signs that spell out HOPE--last night, driving down Grand with Sam in the back seat, Bon Iver on the stereo, snow gently falling, I saw the window display--big, bright red letters, and I thought--well, I didn't really think, I just smiled, and felt good. Hope is the thing with feathers, and it will lift us up. Recession, schmesession!

Sam and I went out last night--we met Valarie and one of her basketball players for dinner at the Highland Grill. Dudes, I never before realized how powerful the presence of a five-month-old can be. Literally 10 people commented on how adorable Sam is. (Duh!) And at the yarn store afterward, someone begged to hold him. He's a little charmer. And he was so polite at dinner.

Dinner: oatmeal flapjacks with berries, nuts, granola, and honey. Liberally drenched with maple syrup. Delicious! The flapjacks were perhaps a little less moist than I would have liked, but that just meant I needed to add more syrup, and I don't have a problem with that.

Yarn purchase: one skein of Lamb's Pride Bulky, intended for this hat for a certain sister of mine.

I need a big knitting project, by the way, but I'm not sure what it should be.

Okay. I've been awake since 3:45, but at this rate I'm still going to be late for work . . .

2009-01-17T02:36:00.005-06:00

I'm up in the middle of the night because I have a craptastic cold. I went to bed at like 10, but then at around 1 woke up feeling utterly miserable. Even the neti pot has failed me. I've lost the will to live!

Not really. But kinda. You know how colds are. I don't know how Sam is handling his so well. We went to that get-together at my boss's (awesome) house tonight and he was a perfect angel, except the fact that he didn't nap (who can blame him?). Best moment of the night: I was giving him a bottle and my coworker's 2-y-o, Lalayna, sat down on the floor, stuck her legs out and crossed them at the ankle (just like I was sitting), and gave her baby a bottle. Looking up at me the whole time. When I stopped to burp Sam, which resulted in tears, she looked at me and said, "My baby's not crying." HA! Other-mothered by a two-year-old.

We brought winter fruit salad to the party, which I brought to a work potluck three potlucks ago. (Tip: if you make it, cut the amount of sugar in the dressing in half, and use more fruit than it calls for. Also, think about chopping up the cashews a bit.) I don't know what the deal is with the potlucks lately. I guess it's a Recession Trend, huh? Whatever. I'm in charge of planning the next one for my group--various suggested themes include comfort food, ball-shaped food, blue food, and PIE.

Another Recession Trend seems to be thinking of things that your company could do to save money besides freezing wages, but that ship has sailed! And taken Friday Bagels with it.

2009-01-15T20:29:00.002-06:00

Sam and I are sick, so we're covered in blankets and lounging on the couch. One of us (the one wearing his special sleeping hat) just pooped, loudly. Steve's in the shower. That means the one of us not wearing a special sleeping hat will have to get up and change the other one's diaper. Crap.

Sam hasn't left the house since Monday, by the way, because it's been like 50 below zero. And that's barely an exaggeration. We're invited to a little soiree at my boss's tomorrow, but with the way I'm feeling, I don't know if we'll end up making it.

I have eaten so many oreos in the last two days it's a wonder I even fit on the couch anymore. I can't use this whole "Breastfeeding burns sooo many calories" the way I have been for long. It just isn't as true as I wish it were.

Okay, the one of us wearing his special sleeping hat has asked very politely if I would please get up and take him to his room, change his diaper, and feed him, and then put him back to bed, please. So I will.

2009-01-14T06:05:00.002-06:00

As far as I can tell, motherhood is made up of:

1. insane amounts of worrying
2. never sleeping
3. exposure to various bodily fluids
4. insane amounts of love

I would like to talk about numbers 1 and 2.

So Sam seems to have a cold. He got it from his dad, who has had it for like, three weeks (maybe it's been three successive colds; who knows). Last night he woke up at midnight. I got up, gave him his nuk, and went back to sleep (after going to the bathroom but you don't need to know everything about my private life! sheesh!). Fine. He usually sleeps without his nuk but whatever--why deny the people their pleasure.

Then he wakes up at 2:30, crying again. And he was obviously having a hard time breathing through his nose. I gave him his nuk and crawled back into bed. And then I couldn't sleep. I couldn't hear him breathing, so worst-case-scenarios were spinning through my head. But I was pretty sure it was ridiculous to get up and I should try to sleep since I'd have to get up in 2.5 hours anyway. This went on for about fifteen minutes, at which point I got up, went to his bassinette, put my hand on his chest and waited to feel it rise and fall. Then I got back into bed.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

I know this is insane.

So eventually it's 3:30 and now I have to get up in 1.5 hours and I'm still lying in bed, straining to try to hear my baby breathing. Ugh! Seriously, this kid has been ruining my sleep for way longer than his 4.5 months of out-of-uterus life.* As soon as I could feel him move, I've been waking up in the middle of the night and checking to make sure he was still alive. I'd lie there and wait for a minute, since my mother-in-law told me that if I poked the baby I'd end up with a colicky kid who wouldn't sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time (aka my brother-in-law). Fair enough. But eventually I'd decide to ignore her and poke just a little, just enough to make him squirm. I was seriously doing that up until I was about 4 cm dilated and on the way to the hospital, and the only reason is that having contractions was taking up too much of my time.

Of course, he's worth being sleepless. And having anxiety and all that. And even the bodily fluids--I am essentially immune to them.

Okay, I have to go get ready for work now. Have a great day, faithful readers!

*I'm not sure when I think life begins. For the record.

2009-01-13T05:51:00.000-06:00

Just a quickie: Carla's blogging about our storied carpool here.

2009-01-11T16:01:00.003-06:00

I know I only post when Sam's sleeping (which he is now) but what can I say, that's all the time I have.

Today we went to Ikea for a new comforter. We picked one out, and then found the exact same thing in As-Is for half the price. Yay! So we celebrated by having lunch in the cafe...mmm, swedish meatballs...

Since then I've been in my usual Sunday funk. I hate Sundays. I hate the looming work week, which is made up of working, getting various things (pumping paraphernalia, lunch, snacks, clothes) ready for the next day, eating, feeding Sam, and sleeping.

But that's a Bad Attitude.

So: This week I am looking forward to a few things:

1. I really love the new carpool situation I have going on with Emily and Carla. The commute is so much better with other people.
2. Soup-n-chili potluck on Wednesday. (I'm bringing bread...)
3. Possibly lunch with Kay on Tuesday.
4. Mom and sisters coming over on Wednesday, to give Steve a break and then have dinner with me.
5. "Casual Potluck" at my boss's on Friday. (I'm bringing salad.) There are two other female editors in my group, but they work in the Mankato office. (I work in the MPLS office with my male boss and two other male editors.) It'll be really nice to see the other two women, one of whom is currently pregnant and has a 2-year-old, and one of whom just had her third baby--she has a 5-year-old and a 7-year-old. They're both in their early 30s. I wish they worked in our office so I had someone to talk baby stuff with--though I feel considerably younger than them, I'm not, really.

So I guess maybe this week won't be so bad after all...

2009-01-10T18:13:00.004-06:00

Sam went to his first wedding today. It was a Quaker wedding. For those of you who have not attended a Quaker wedding before, let me just say this: it is quite nervewracking to bring a four-month-old to one. Quaker weddings are quiet. Not just quiet, but silent, in fact.

It was really lovely. After five or so minutes of silence, our friends spoke their vows to each other. I immediately burst into tears. I wish I could describe it--their voices suddenly just echoed into the quiet room, promising to always love each other. It was so moving.

And Sam promptly fell asleep. So it turned out that I didn't need to worry about him after all.

It was a cool wedding, though. We sat in silence, punctuated with tearful speeches (maybe a few sentences long each) every few minutes, for an hour. I think the time moved a little more slowly for Steve than it did for me, but I just loved it. It didn't seem like an hour at all. Of course, in Quaker meetings you speak as the spirit moves you; I spent a lot of time thinking "Oh man, should I talk?" and eventually did not. I smelled Sam's head, watched the bride's nieces and nephew, listened to the ten-month-old behind us eating cheerios. Then we all had coffee and cake, and Sam sat on the floor and stared at girls who were bigger than him.

The reception, held at a local bar/bowling alley, was pretty much the exact opposite of the ceremony. The whole thing seemed just perfect for the new husband and wife. It was fun, and I talked to a bunch of friends I hadn't seen in a long time. One couple just had a new baby, and the new mother kept flipping open her cell phone to look at a picture of the nine-day-old girl. It was so sweet. I don't take enough advantage of this particular group of friends, all of whom have had children in the last two years or so. I tend to be a hermit, so I don't make enough of an effort to see them. I hope I will now, since I've been reminded of how nice it is to be around adults who are in the same-ish phase of life that I am.

And they all loved Sam, of course--but who wouldn't. He wore a sweater vest!

2009-01-08T19:06:00.004-06:00

I don't have a lot of time before Sam wakes up from his evening nap...

I've been thinking about things to write about in my blog, but I keep forgetting them. I honestly never realized how much mental space motherhood would take; for example yesterday I printed out all of my Fall '09 cover copy, meaning to pass it along to my boss for review. Today I printed something else, and when I went to get it, I found...six pages of cover copy, left abandoned next to the printer. And it wasn't that I was just too busy to remember it yesterday. I'm not saying this is a big deal. It's not. I'm not forgetting major things, like to feed my son. I'm just...well, let's just say I'm writing way more notes to myself these days.

So there's that--the forgetting of things I was once way on top of. And then there's the obsession, of course. I think about Sam all day long. I have six pictures of him in my cube at work, plus a rotating display on my laptop's desktop. I'm sure my coworkers are sick to death about hearing about how he rolled over, or he laughed, or farted, or whatever. But I can't stop thinking about him. I also think about labor and delivery a lot. Like a few times a day minimum. It's funny, I've said to Steve that that was the biggest thing I ever did in my life--the most important, the hardest, the best. The most selfless, in a way; enduring excruciating pain for hours on end, punctuated by bodily fluids, ending in various debasements--you don't do that for yourself. You do it, if you'll allow a cheesiness, for humanity--for a tiny helpless being who can't exist without you getting him there. And then after this huge thing, this minor miracle you've performed, your life is not about you anymore. Sure, Steve told me a hundred times an hour what an amazing thing I'd done, how incredible I was. I coasted on that for a couple of days, high on the adrenaline of giving birth to Sam. But then my life became all about Sam. And how strange to go through the biggest event of your life and then not really care one whit about your life anymore, except to make sure it continues and thrives so that your child will. Everything is for him now.

I read that seeing a baby's smile is, to his mother, akin to the rush of drugs--and this is absolutely true for me, but it's not just his smile, it's the smell of his hair, the way his cheek feels when I kiss it, how he shakes his head angrily when I pick him up in the morning to feed him before work--the way his hands smell. How lint collects in his toes, how his feet smell like feet, how soft his tummy is. This is what I mean--I'm full of Sam thoughts now, overwhelmed by them. So I suppose it makes sense that there's no room for everything else.

The second night we were in the hospital--or third, maybe? I don't know; it's all blurry. Anyway, we were exhausted. We hadn't slept more than an hour or so in a row since the night before Sam was born. And it was hard to sleep with a one- or two-day-old baby in the room; I kept worrying I'd wake up and he'd be gone. The sound of his cry was absolutely maddening. We called the night nurse, who I absolutely detested, and asked that she take him to the nursery so that we could get some sleep. I tried to sleep, but I could smell Sam everywhere. I think about that a lot. How he smelled. I remember describing it as peppery. Now he smells like milk and Johnson's baby wash and ... just Sam, I guess.

Anyway, I couldn't sleep. I had just drifted off when the nurse brought him back, 3 hours later, to eat. We sent him back afterward, and it was only because I was utterly exhausted that I finally drifted off. His cry was so wrenching. It meant he needed something, and we didn't know what to give him. I had a lot of trouble breastfeeding him, so I felt like he was suffering because I was doing something wrong. (Of course he wasn't suffering, and I wasn't doing anything wrong--there is a learning curve no one ever tells you about, and ours was particularly steep.) After the next feeding, he stayed in our room. When he woke me up with his crying, my heart stopped. It feels sour now thinking about it, a sick tightness in my chest. I pushed my glasses on and fumbled across the room to his bassinette. I didn't want to do it anymore. I wondered if there were any way to get out of it. Logic fled from me. I was so goddamn afraid.

The nurse who came when I called and said I was having a panic attack was less than helpful, but she did stay until I started to feed Sam again (breastfeeding releases oxytocin, a powerful relaxant). I asked Steve to get in bed with me, because I couldn't stop shaking. And I called my mom, woke her up at 5 a.m., begged her to come stay with us. And then, Sam in his bed, I curled up and chanted to myself over and over, "It's not real. Sam is real. It's not real. Sam is real."

I love him so deeply now that it shocks me to still be able to call up that fear. I wish I could go back and tell myself, shaking with fear in that hospital bed, that four months later I would make him laugh and it would feel as if I were in an echo chamber of my own happiness. That on Saturdays the best thing I could imagine doing would be lying in bed with him, smelling his hair. That in four months I'd be sitting on the couch, dog at my feet, Sam swinging, stopping typing once in a while to smell my hands, which smell like Sam.

So I suppose that's why I can't really concentrate anymore--everything is Sam.

If you're wondering, the anxiety stayed for a few days. It's normal--or, at least, it happens to a lot of women. I came home, I was afraid to go to sleep. My mom drove down and stayed with us. I ate a chicken sandwich that tasted like dust. Since he was so new, we had to wake Sam up every 3 hours to eat. That first night, I went to sleep full of dread. I woke up a couple of hours later. Steve was fast asleep--probably the first good sleep he'd gotten in four days. I decided that both of us couldn't be completely sleep-deprived, so I got up alone to feed Sam. I am proud of giving birth to Sam--it was the hardest thing I've ever done. But I am more proud of that first night, getting up by myself, picking him up, carrying him to the living room, changing his diaper, holding him close to me. It felt like the scariest, most dangerous thing in the world. And I did it. I did it anyway.

It probably sounds ridiculous--after all, motherhood isn't some sort of singular experience. Most women become mothers. But everyone conquers fear alone. Mine didn't go away right away, having kept him alive through the night. I think it took about a week before I could really breathe again, without feeling that electric weight on my chest. I cried a lot, I closed my eyes and took lots of deep breaths. I had a hard time eating. But as I began to realize my new life, as "the new normal" became more solid, I felt better. And now I know that while much of that fear was hormonal, due to the sharp drop in progesterone after delivery, much of it was also because it was terrifying to be responsible for another creature--and more than that, it was terrifying to say, This isn't about me anymore. It will never be about me again.

I didn't mean at all to write about this. I was going to write about "The Boyfriend List" by E. Lockhart which I finished today (and loved, and highly recommend). I guess it just needed to come out.

2009-01-05T19:20:00.003-06:00

Sam's taking a nice nap right now. I just retyped that sentence with punctuation and capitalization.

Internet and real-life friends: How do you keep sane in the winter? My friend Emily and I were talking about this today, and Steve and I discuss it daily. I don't remember what we did pre-baby; I guess probably the same but it seemed on purpose. But we are both going insane, what with the no TV and the lots of coldness and the ennui and the no daylight. I've suggested a scrabble tournament and putting together a puzzle; both were met with...I don't remember the exact response but it wasn't jumping up and running to the shelf where we keep the games, I know that much. So...before I go out and buy Risk, or start playing Sims again, please help! Also, I wonder if I have any sisters who would like to babysit some Saturday night so that Steve and I can go out to dinner...hmm.

Update on dog: he's fine. No poop since The Event.

Update on work: it's fine too. Ant infestation in the ladies' bathroom. Kinda nasty. BUT, soup & chili potluck next Wednesday. Oh and we're having FOOD SHELF BINGO during the month of January, the details of which I don't quite understand.

Carla reminded me today that LOST starts again soon. I'm excited about that.

God, why do you even read my blog? It's so boring.

I read somewhere online today about how to make your own butter without a churn. I think it was on the Powell's blog, which I'm too lazy to link to right now. I want so badly to make my own butter. Maybe I should add that as a resolution...

Okay. Thing I'm most looking forward to right now: Seeing Rachel at the end of the month.
Thing I'm most dreading right now: finding a dress for the wedding this weekend.
Last thing I ate: Delicious spaghetti with roasted vegetables drenched in Steve's homemade tomato sauce.

That's it, I'll put you out of your misery now. More soon. I hope to wait until I have something to actually write about. I have more, better thoughts on the weekend, I'm afraid.

2009-01-04T16:46:00.007-06:00

I feel like all we did today is clean the house. I seriously scrubbed the bathtub with a toothbrush. We hate our bathtub--it's one of these big corner tubs that's meant to be awesome, with jets and everything, but during our home inspection the guy scared us by saying he wasn't sure the electrical part was done right, so we don't use the jets. And it is seriously hard to clean. I'm too small to really get it right, so I have to kind of balance my hips on the side of the tub and lean waaaay over. It hurts! It's hard to bathe Sam in it, too, but as my dad would say, SOUNDS LIKE A PERSONAL PROBLEM!

Yesterday ended up being pretty good. Sam and I went to the mall for about four hours, and while I didn't find a dress, it was still fun to be out with my little guy. Spending time with him is such an intense experience, made even more intense by the atmosphere of the crowded mall. And we had a small personal milestone to boot. For a variety of reasons I don't care to go into here, I don't breastfeed Sam in public (though he is exclusively breastmilkfed). But I hate to bring bottles when we're out together; it makes me feel inadequate and like I'm going to have to get in a fight with some lactivist or something. I completely support the rights of women to breastfeed their children wherever they please; I just have too many hangups to do so myself. But I'm trying to get over it a little bit, largely in preparation for our trip to New York in a few weeks. So anyway, yesterday I didn't bring a bottle to the mall, even though I knew quite well that he was going to get hungry while we were out. When he did, I found the family restroom. Usually, that's a one-stall bathroom with a bench or something. But at Rosedale, it's the regular women's bathroom with a small section walled off by glass bricks that contains a comfy chair and a changing table. So I threw caution to the wind and fed Sam there. In partial view of others! Sam celebrated by barfing all over me and the chair. So while I'm not ever going to be one of those women you see proudly baring all to feed their kid, I'm pretty proud of this admittedly small achievement.

Anyway, then we went home and met Val and Nick for coffee, which was nice, then ordered chinese food, and went to bed at 9:45 (late, since it's the weekend!). And today I cleaned. And after dinner (big salads to balance out the chinese food and the dregs of a bag of pickle chips I housed just now) I will give Sam a bath in our freshly cleaned tub. And tomorrow I go back to work.

I thought I had something more interesting to say, but I don't. Sam now thinks peekaboo is funny. Life is good.

2009-01-03T08:53:00.001-06:00

btw--see the little favicon of housepants? thanks to my darling husband.

2009-01-03T08:32:00.000-06:00

It's supposed to snow today. Before Sam was born, I would have been super excited about this--an excuse to stay inside, knit, watch hours of Lost on DVD. (I would have done those things anyway, but it would have made them more socially acceptable.) Now that Sam's here, we try really hard to get out of the house more often. Mainly because being in the house is less relaxing than it used to be. Since he's a baby, with a malleable brain, we don't watch TV with him in the room...and since our house is the size of your coffee maker, that basically means we never watch TV. So there goes the hours of Lost. And it's hard to knit with a baby in your arms, so there goes that. I'm both looking forward to and dreading him being able to entertain himself. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I'm not excited about the snow.

---

No poop in the bed today. A banner morning.

---

So we were listening to this thing on NPR the other day about blogging, and basically, the guy said that blogs won't be successful if they're not offering content--and even then, you can't expect a book deal or whatever. So I just wanted to put it out there right now that I don't expect anything from this and am thrilled to pieces that I know a couple of people are reading along. I hope you don't expect much either. I aspire to be Alicia Paulson but let's face it--I don't have the patience. Or the studio.

---

I found out yesterday that one of my dearest friends is pregnant, due around Sam's first birthday. I've been having the strangest feelings ever since. I am so thrilled for them. I'm also remembering through rose-colored glasses those first weeks of pregnancy, how it felt to have such a delicious secret, how warm I felt all the time. How fun it was to tell my parents and my sisters and Steve's mom. Of course, me being me, I forget to remember about the hard things about that time. And so I feel this ridiculous jealousy, forgetting that I have my prize already, asleep in his little bassinette in the next room, half-escaped from his swaddle. And I can't wait for my friends to have their own little prize. I wish time moved more slowly and also more quickly. I guess that's the price of being ... alive, or something.

---

Here's the worst thing about parenting: Never knowing if you're doing the right thing.

---

I'm hungry. I think I'm going to get ready for the day, try to get out and do something before the snow starts.

2009-01-02T07:35:00.000-06:00

I'm up at this ungodly hour because--well, I'm always up at this ungodly hour. But on Fridays I usually get to sleep in till 6:30 or so because I work from home. Not today.

I woke up at 4:45 for a nuk replacement. No big deal; happens all the time. I usually can just fall straight back asleep. But today, when I slipped back into bed, my hand touched something solid. Something small and a little sticky--

a small ball of dog poo.

Which I know because, of course, I picked it up and smelled it.

I cannot think of a worse way to wake up. (Except rolling over, noticing that your wife is awake, mumbling "Are you okay?" and hearing "No. Harry pooped in the bed again.")

Something's going on with our dog and we're not sure what it is. My instinct is to say he's having a hard time adjusting to Sam, and maybe that's the whole problem. I mean, as anyone who knows us knows, Harry has been our firstborn for a very long time, and as an actual firstborn, I know it's pretty freaking hard when the second one comes along. And in this case it must be even more traumatic since, you know, Harry's not actually a baby. He didn't just get invaded, he got demoted. And in the last few weeks, especially, he's been making his displeasure known.

But why now??? Sam's four months old. Yeah, he's got way more personality than when we first brought him home from the hospital, and he takes up more of our time actively (as opposed to his newborn weeks when he just slept all the time). But in the first few weeks after Sam was born, I was really put off by Harry. He smelled bad, he seemed dirty, he was a constant threat of waking up or hurting (not that he ever did) or otherwise disturbing Sam. It's just in the last month or so that I remember how much I love Harry and how happy I am he's in our family. He has always been our (mostly) silent constant companion. He has slept next to me almost every night for the last three years. He's in so many good memories of Steve and I getting back together, moving to Minnesota, buying our house. He rode on my lap when we drove to New York and back last year, and stuck his head out the window on the Cross Bronx Expressway. When I thought I was miscarrying last January (a year ago today, actually) he laid next to me on the couch while I cried. He trotted alongside us this summer during the 8 billion walks we took around the neighborhood. He's the best dog. And then this other thing comes along and I completely stopped paying attention to him, got upset with him...

The little guy just hopped up on the couch next to me. Poor sweet Harry. I know how you feel, buddy.

When my little sister was born, I'm famous for having said, "Take that baby off your breast and throw her down the stairs!" I should have saved my breath and pooped in the bed.

2009-01-01T17:20:00.000-06:00

I didn't expect to be back today, and hope this isn't my usual pattern of post a million times in three days and then give up. But Sam's napping in his swing, Steve is at the coffee shop writing, and Harry's ... I don't know, probably licking his paws somewhere. So here I am.

We went to the mall today--my favorite jeans (and really, only jeans) developed a huge, obscene hole the other day. It was sad, but considering they were $30 jeans I bought at American Eagle three years ago, it was about time. I don't know what it is about the mall, but it almost always puts me in a bad mood. I don't mind that it's crowded, and I can get over the whole consumerism aspect (after all, I was there to consume). It's just overwhelming, I guess.

Here's the thing. Three years ago I lived in a cool neighborhood in New York City. I had a pretty cool job, interesting friends, I did fun things.

Now I'm a mom who wears boring pants from Old Navy. (True story!!!)

I still have a cool job (in fact, I like my job now much more than I liked my old job), and interesting friends, but most of them are way farther away than they used to be, and we love our neighborhood...but last night we were in bed by 10:30. I would not trade it--Sam is worth not being "cool"... But no, that's not it. I think I'm getting away from what is actually the problem here.

It's not about being cool. Because face it, I've never actually been cool. But maybe that's the problem--I was never cool, but at least I could say I lived in Brooklyn, or I fit into size 25 Citizens, or my boss edited so-and-so's book, or whatever. And now I don't have that to hide behind anymore, so I feel all vulnerable and stuff in my ugly blue pants from Old Navy. (Not to mention that my post-partum body feels strange and being pregnant for, you know, 9 months meant that I didn't buy ANY new clothes so in terms of fashion I always feel two steps behind...I mean seriously, I stop being pregnant and people are wearing skin-tight acid washed black jeans?? what?? but that is a topic for another post, I guess.)

Anyway, that's why the mall kind of sucked today. I always feel like everyone else is doing a better job of being themselves than I am. So maybe I need to get over it, embrace myself and my ugly blue pants, accept that I love my life--my precious son, my fabulous husband, my stinky dog, my great job, my cozy house--EVEN THOUGH it isn't cool enough to cover for the fact that I'm not cool. WHO CARES, right? I know. I know. Steve tells me this all the time. I know!!!

I really hate those pants, though. I don't know what I was thinking when I bought them. And yet I wear them all the time.

Day One

2009-01-01T09:43:00.001-06:00

This isn't the first blog I've started. Obviously. I've had a few livejournals, one dirty little secret of a knitblog, and I blog at work (sporadically at best). I've been writing my whole life--my first novel, about a simple country girl who discovers that she is the Princess Switzermerilando (I KNOW!) was written when I was like, 10. I have a very expensive BA in writing. But since Sam was born four months ago (oh, let's face it, since I graduated from college) writing has just not been on the top of my list of things to do. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't have to.

But maybe I do, you know?

So, hence, the blog. Why not write it all down. Or some of it, anyway. Why not type it out. I don't have a lot of time, and I have bigger priorities--Sam, Steve, Harry (the dog), work, sleep--but maybe, just maybe, this little experiment in navel gazing will help me write again.

To begin: Resolutions.

1. Blog (god, I hate that word...) at least once a week.
2. Be better. A better mother, a better wife, a better daughter, a better granddaughter, a better friend. Embrace relationships.
3. Stop spending so much time on the computer (this seems contradictory to #1, but trust me, it's not--there's no reason I need to read every single Facebook status for every single one of my friends)
4. Enjoy the rest of the first year of Sam's life (a gimme, but come on, it's only fair)
5. To quote John Wesley (1703 - 1791), "Make all you can, save all you can, give all you can."*
6. Write five poems. Sounds so easy. But since I've written about five poems since I graduated from college, it won't be.

Sam's awake. The real day begins.

Happy New Year.

* Before you read the Wikipedia link, please note that I got this quote from a teabag.