A Merry Mikro Christmas

At 21 months, Mikro still doesn't understand Christmas, but he does understand new toys...



He was spoiled rotten by mama & daddy, and the grandparents.



I gave him a wooden workbench set (which I'm making him wait another couple of months to open), a wooden kitchen stuff set (tea pot, frying pan, spatula, eggs sunny side up), a cool town with track for cars and monorail and stuff (which seems to have an electrical problem), several sets of those fisher price see thru blocks with stuff in them, a train set (also not opened yet, because he's too overwhelmed with all the rest), the "pit stop" patterned rug that he's sitting on in the photo, and probably other stuff I've forgotten.



Grandma Maria got him an electronic toy, several outfits, and cash... The insane contingent (my parents, Gramma Betty and Grampa Bob) got him all sorts of cars, trucks, trains, construction vehicles, Little People, an outfit and a savings bond.



My brother the lawyer/electric guitarist got him a very cool electronic upright piano with stool and microphone, which the Boy somehow instinctively understands.



Most surprisingly, he had the attention span to really play with his toys, and only got distracted by the packing material later.



He had a fun, but exhausting, afternoon. By evening, we had crazy overstimulated toddler to contend with...



Luckily, he settled down and played quietly, then took a nap.



It was a quiet day (except for toy noise). We watched Christmas movies and I wore my pajamas all day long. Kev made pasta with pesto sauce for dinner and we had way too many Hershey's lisses for dessert... Called all the relatives after dinner. Watched the boy dismantle the living room...

Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!

Merry Christmas, Blessed Yule, Happy Holidays to all!



May 2005 bring you joy!

Off Color Holiday Funny

This is Rated R for language, but it almost made me pee my pants laughing. A bit of rude cartoon social commentary on the secularization of Christmas...

Neurotically Yours Cartoon: No Christmas For You!"

My tree is still not up. It's sitting in a box in the attic, waiting for Kev to go get it. I am deathly afraid of falling, and the pull down ladder is on the rickety side, so I am waiting...

Mikro-isms

Mikro is not exceptionally verbal. He has some words, but he babbles constantly in what seems like a language Kevin and I do not understand. He points, he grabs, he pulls up my shirt, and he growls. We try to get him to repeat words, but he's not real interested. The words he does have, he uses correctly, in context, and sometimes in new and surprising but proper ways. He says: mama, dada, baby, dog, car, this ("siss"), back (as in throw the ball back), dizzy ("deezee")(when he spins around), yum yum (yogurt), nay nay (boobie), numi numi (boobie) and mina mina me (boobie NOW!), and, of course, NO!

Today as he was boobie-ing on the couch, the cat jumped up and tried to get my attention. I figured, maybe this is an opportunity to teach Mikro to say "kitty" (which we have tried before, without any success.) So I pet Titan and say enthusiastically "Kitty! Look, Mikro, this is the kitty!" Mikro watches the cat, gets an evil gleam in his eye, pops off, and lunges for the kitty, who is quicker. So Titan high tails it, and Mikro smiles at me and says, clear as a bell, "Meow, meow!"

Of course, he still won't say "kitty"...

Tis the season or just call me The Grinch

But I'm not particularly jolly. I've done about two thirds of theholiday shopping, but I have yet to write out a single card.

First, the happy. Here's my (if I ever actually get them done) Christmas card photo of MIkro at 20 months old:



Life seems horribly complicated at the moment, with changes being made to all possible forms of insurance, hub being hugely stressed out at the job (and at home)and his pressure relief valve of the moment being yelling at me, a battle royale with two doctors' office over their bookkeeping snafus, a sick cat, a badly behaved dog, a sometimes cranky boy who has gained eight teeth in the past two months and has discovered the word "no", a messy house I daren't decorate, and a partridge in a pear tree...

All in all, not a particularly happy or inspiring time here.

And opening a box of stuff I ordered online for gifts and finding it to be nothing like what was pictured on the web site from which I ordered (considerably cheaper and shabbier construction than depicted) just iced my grouchy cake.

My Two Cents

Just something I am pondering. I tend to follow my father's advice that the best way to avoid an argument is to keep your mouth shut about politics, religion and money. But being that everyone else has posted an opinion, here comes mine.

It seems that you can sum up an awful lot of the curent "political discourse" as follows:

If you don't agree with me, then...

According to the Far Right: You're a traitor / coward/ unpatriotic/ terrorist sympathizer/ going to hell for sure.

According to the Far Left: You're a war monger / bigot/ stupid/ duped/ a sheep.

How about, none of the above!

I believe that americans generally are people of good will. I believe that extremism, whichever end of the spectrum it falls on, is divisive, counterproductive, and horrifically uncivil and disrespectful. The extreme wings denigrate anyone who doesn't fall into their little clubs by labelling them dismissively. Geez, people, these are your neighbors. They may disagree with you. Why does that make them worthy of vilification? When we discount everyone who doesn't belong to our little club, we risk alienating the vast majority of more moderate thinkers. We wind up preaching to the choir of the like minded and patting ourselves on the backs for our moral or intellectual superiority, and what it gets us is a country fractured down the middle. And a recipe for stagnation and governmental gridlock.

Both parties need to reach out to the moderates in order to get anywhere, and I really hope that is what they do in the future. Comments about people being unfriended on LJ or de-blogrolled because of their political opinions really bother me. How can you ever hope to understand or change the mind of someone who disagrees with you if you cut the lines of communication? How can this hostility ever get us anywhere? Both sides are equally guilty of it. I just don't understand it.

Just because someone doesn’t agree with you doesn’t make them unpatriotic, morally depraved, cowardly, stupid, duped or evil - just different. And no less American.

Life would be so much more pleasant if people could just agree to disagree and respect those holding different ideas and beliefs. I’m hoping that the future holds far more civility, tolerance and peace for us all.

(Also posted on Live Journal.)

Happy Halloween!

Leaves are Falling...

Time seems to be flying. Mikro will be 18 months old in just a few days. It's already getting chilly, and the leaves are changing. Mikro loves the bright yellow ones.

We are not ready for winter here. The fence is still not up, and the ground will soon be too frozen to dig postholes. The electrician never came back to finish the garage portion of the job (which involves trenching), and now it will probably have to wait for spring, like so many other things we had hoped to have finished by now. The Great Flea War (which we seem to have won by literally emptying the house and bombing multiple times) stole a month of prime work time from us, and it looks like we are stuck at this point.

I'm thinking about digging around for Mikro's halloween costume, which I bought last November and packed away, and which got further misplaced in the emptying out of the house process...) If I find it, he will be a purple and green dragon.

I'm sleep deprived, and feeling stupid tired, so this will be an exceedingly short entry...

Updating Mikro's Baby Book

There is a new entry up in Mikro's Baby Book with lots of photos...

I Will Not Die an Unlived Life

A family member is in critical condition, and not expected to pull through... What makes this even sadder is that the person in question has led a very limited life, you might even say, hasn't ever really lived at all. She's a year older than me, and there is nothing that can be done for her. I feel powerless, and very sad at how much she will have missed out on.

That is something I really hope is never my epitaph. And with the PTSD thing, and how much time I have already lost to it, it might apply, though to a lesser degree.

There's a poem by Dawna Markova that seems particularly significant to me today:


I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
Of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
To allow my living to open me,
To make me less afraid,
More accessible,
To loosen my heart
Until it becomes a wing,
A torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
To live so that which came to me as seed
Goes to the next as blossom,
Goes on as fruit.

--Dawna Markova

I will not die an unlived life. Maybe that's my new mantra.

Photographic Odyssey

From Mikro's recent train travels...

Riding the rails with Dad:



Nursing on Metro North:



Easily amused with shredded napkin confetti:



And from last month's jaunt to my parents' place:

Swinging Fool:



Cavorting:

Family Wedding, with Toddler

This past weekend we travelled to the Jersey Shore for a family wedding. It was an extremely long trip involving two different railroads, several cabs and about eight hours round trip, which was an interesting experience with a sixteen and a half month old... He actually travelled quite well. He ate alot of yogurt, drank water, and slept only a tiny fraction of the journey. He flirted with female passengers and waved to his reflection in the train's window. He squealed and clapped at the passing trucks. He was amazingly good.

We stayed at a small inn in Belmar Saturday night, then cabbed over to Bradley Beach at check out (an hour and a half early.) My parents were supposed to call us when they arrived at the BB train station at noon, so we could meet and get a bite to eat before the ceremony. They didn't call, and ate by themselves, which meant Kev and I got nothing whatsoever to eat all day and sat roasting our wedding clothes on the beach until after the ceremony. Mikro had us worried. I lubed him up with SPF 45 sunscreen, and we kept reapplying it, but he looked like he might be getting burned. He's extremely fair, so it was a major concern. Turns out, he was just a little flushed from running around in the heat. We got him to drink alot of water, and his color faded back to normal and he perked right up. He even behaved pretty well through the ceremony, and Kev walked him around the boardwalk nearby when he got fidgety.

My cousin Tom married his beautiful bride Barbara, and both were radiantly happy. The reception was at a nearby restaurnat overlooking the beach. I nursed Mikro out on the porch in relative privacy and he fell asleep, which freed me up to go hang out with the cousins. I hadn't seen most of them in years, and we had a great time catching up and reminiscing. Supposedly we are going to all get together at Thankgiving in NYC at one cousin's place. And another wants to host a huge family reunion in South Jersey (which will be another huge trek for us...) and make it an annual event.

We left at 6 pm Sunday night, riding the NJ train with my parents, who kept Mikro entertained all the way to Penn Station. I wound up nursing Mikro on the Metro North train after we ran out of yogurt. We got home around 10 pm, totally exhausted and pleasantly surprised about how easy it was to travel with the boy.

Mikro at 16 months

I haven't written an entry about Mikro in what seems like ages. Time to do that.

He is just a sweet, loving amazing little boy.

At my parents' place last month, he learned to wave and say "Bye bye". He is just so proud of himself for learning this, that he does it all day long. He also thinks he is quite clever for learning how to clap, and he applauds the TV, claps along with laugh tracks, claps when something makes him laugh, and applauds himself when he does something new and special. He also claps when I ask him if he wants to nurse.

He's starting to point.

He loves clowns and comedians. Favorites are Jay Leno and Ellen De Generes.

He learned how to make his electronic train work, and to throw a ball. He loves pails, and plastic shovels and hammers, which he waves around like magic wands. He has been playing with a VTech electronic toy and pushing all the buttons since he was a month old. I think he may almost be old enough for the Little Touch Leap Pad we got him for his birthday (except that he likes to shred paper...)

He is into everything. He opens cabinets, unrolls the toilet paper, is fascinated with unloading things into piles and then moving them back. He will sit next to a bin of toys and systematically empty it onto the floor, one item at a time. Then, one by one, he moves the toys to his left side. Then, one by one, to the right. Sometimes he'll put a good number back into the bin, but he almost always unloads it again and then leaves everything scattered across the floor. He does this with the contents of my purse if I am silly and forget to close it.

He has an unfortunate fascination with the phone cord, and often unplugs it. This is better than just taking the phone off the hook (another favorite passtime) because at least the extensions will ring. But then, most fun of all is playing back all the messages on the answering machine, and/or deleting them!

We taught him to roll on his belly and scootch off the couch feet first when was only a few months old. He really applies the lesson, and is very safe at getting down from all the places he climbs up to. Now, he has finally started climbing down from the (rather high) family bed. This terrifies me, because who knows what he may get into while we sleep... Time to baby gate the bedroom.

His word collection:

• Mama


• Dada


• Baby (bay bay)


• Dog (dug)


• Back (as in throw the ball back to mama, which he does!)


• Bye Bye


• Car (cah) (only said a couple of times)


• Yumi Yumi (yogurt or solid food)


• Nay nay (nursing)


• Numi Numi (nursing)


• Mina Mina Me (nursing)


• Siss (this, as in look at this, what's this?, etc.)

His favorite phrase is Dub Dub or Dubba Dubba, repeated endlessly, but we haven't figured out what it means, other than that he's in a good mood.

He climbs onto my lap and sits with his back against my chest. I am now his favorite "chair". I sit cross legged, and he always liked to sit cross legged between my legs, but now he just climbs up on me wherever I am and hugs me, or snuggles against me and stays there. He's so affectionate and sweet and loving, and he has an amazing sense of humor. He looks at his board books and giggles at the pictures, turning the pages himself. He starts peekaboo himself now, and will use a blanket, or a book, or any handy object that he finds, or duck behind the furniture or a doorway and pop out.

He loves the water now. At my parents', he played in the sprinkler every day. He would fill his little pail with water and run around jerking it and splasing the water out and laughing like crazy. He also liked to step on the jets coming out the sprinkler and spray me with water.

My mom's miniature collie pup was just the perfect size dog for him, and the perfect partner in crime. They dismantled her kitchen together.

He likes slides, bit he adores swings.

He loves other kids and babies.

He also likes running, although his balance isn't perfect and he falls alot, especially when he gets distracted and stops looking where he's going. He loves stairs, and can go up and down them well, if he is paying attention. If he gets distracted, he will fall, so we try to keep him off the stairs as much as possible.

He drinks soy milk from a cup (which I hold), and eats the occassional bit of vanilla ice cream (his grandparent's favorite way to spoil him rotten). He is fascinated by water bottles, and likes to shake them and roll them around. He will drink from a sports bottle. (He also likes to knaw on the capped bottles when he is teething.) So far he is more interested in throwing, shaking and spilling his sippy cups than drinking from them. He can get a spoon to his mouth, but prefers me feeding him. He loves spoons as toys and teethers.

He still doesn't eat anything texture-y. Just baby food, yogurt, etc. The mushy stuff. He likes to play with anything on our plates, but he won't eat it.

September?!?

How can it possibly be September already? This summer just evaporated. I don't know where it went.

Fall is my favorite season, so I'm looking forward to crisp cool afternoons wandering around the reservoir with Mikro in his stroller and watching the leaves changing.

What I'm not looking forward to so very much is my upcoming 39th birthday (although, having nearly been killed once, I am the first to say that getting older certainly beats the alternative!)

For some reason, it's the blankety-nine birthdays that freak me out, not the ones that end in zero. I really spazzed at 29, but thirty didn't faze me at all. Well, 39 is bugging me, because I am not where I wanted to be at this point in my life in many ways, chief among them: healthwise. I am overweight and out of shape. And yes, in great part it is due to the fact that I live in chronic nerve pain, which makes exercise akin to torture, but really, I could try harder to get rid of some of this poundage, or at least, to not allow it to creep any higher...

So, in lieu of new year's resolutions, which I don't generally make (because I have yet to keep any), I'm making an early birthday wish that this will be the year that I get my shit together, weightwise, PTSD-wise, etc.

I would really like to feel like my life is moving forward like the cycle of the seasons, not mired in a swamp of perpetual doom and gloom.

Time Travel of a Sort

Feels like I have travelled back in time to the fourteenth century... or at least the early 1980s. I've just spent two weeks without access to a computer, while staying at my parent's place. They see no need whatsoever for modern technology. I have definitely had withdrawal like symptoms. At one point I even called my husband and demanded that he read me the latest entry from one of my blog buddies.

All I can say is, I am really really really glad to be back home, feeling like I inhabit the current decade again! (And that I am once again being treated like an adult, not a teenager, as my parents seem to still think I am!) The Boy is definitely missing the grand-parental spoiling, but I am glad to be in my own space, under my own house rules, once again!

We are winning the flea war, but it isn't over yet... I think we need the yard sprayed. Term!nix sucks. It takes them nearly a week to return phonecalls, and days longer to show up, contract notwithstanding! And then they do a half assed job. At least that's my experience. Next time I sure as hell am not prepaying the two year contract in advance! They seem to think since they got their money, they are free to blow us off. Asshats.

Oh Where Oh Where Has My Sanity Gone....

My house is upside down with electrical work going on, and my dining room art space is a cluttered mess. But the good news is, we've been talking about wiring my studio (the garage) so I can use my kilns for, oh, five years now, and by this fall, it will actually be a reality! (It's a two step process, involving upgrading the electric service, a concrete floor getting poured in the middle, and then the final electric hookups, but it has begun! Hurray!) I'm so excited. I've been cut off from doing my sculptural stuff for so long because I had no way to fire things, and was tired of creating pieces too delicate to store indefinitely and then watching them get broken. Pretty soon I'll be able to play in 3D again! Woo hoo!

Things are hectic and cluttered and messy, and my mental state matches.

Mikro is starting to get back on track with sleeping (maybe).

Here's a recent shot of Danger Boy in action, probably about a minute before he clocked me with the hammer...



And another: Warning: crazy twiddling nursing toddler .

And the latest WITW exercise: a collage:

Happy Blogiversary to Me

It has been a whole year.  I can hardly believe it.  A good, but exhausting year.  My son is a toddler now.  It seems like only yesterday that he was a funny looking little newborn, and this was a brand new blog.  Tempus sure does fugit!

Today I am nursing a painfully scratched eye, which seems to be highly sensitive to light, courtesy of Mikro's attempt to claw it out.  Ouch.

My husband is moving furniture frantically because tomorow we are having electrical work done here, and there needs to be room to work...

The only good thing about the upheaval is that he has located a bunch of my art supplies that had long been lost in the clutter. 

Uh oh.  Poopy diaper alert.

The Incredible Non-Sleeping Boy

Just checking in. It's been a hard week, because Mikro's routine has been disturbed, and his sleep is completely erratic at the moment, which means we are both exhausted and crabby!

He had his 15 month Well Baby Care visit, and he's now 31 inches tall, has a 17 and 7/8 inch head circumference, and weighs 21.5 pounds.  Poor guy got four shots and had a blood test.  He was screaming hysterically until I took him outside and laid him on a blanket in a shady spot on the doctor's lawn and nursed him.  That made him happy again.  Happy enough to head up to Home Depot and spend another $2K on fencing material to keep his danger loving little butt confined in the backyard.    The Boy loves cars and thinks nothing of running for the street to go say hello to one.  Hence our obsession with fencing.

Re Walking In This World:  For some (unknown) reason, I've been more resistant to doing the morning pages (MPs) this week, though I did get them done (but in the afternoon a couple times). They are pretty whiney about sleep deprivation... I have done all the tasks, and I'm going to count going shopping for plants and art supplies as my artists date (AD). I bought two gorgeous orchids that I hope I'll soon have the time and energy to paint. Unfortunately, the only art making I've done is a quick sketch of the boy when he finally fell asleep. I still have to do my walk, which I hope to do once the thunder and lightning is done for the day.

Last week it was easier to keep up my momentum.  My AD was great- I watched Le Mysterie Picasso, which made me want to go play with paint.  And it was terrific to see him rework things and to watch how a paintng evolved.  Very cool!

 

Mood Absorption

I think I am a toxic mood absorption sponge. When I am around someone who is depressed or pissed or miserable, it feels like I get infected with their bad mood. Kev is in a lousy mood, and it has rubbed off on me. Things are not real happiness, rainbows and fluffy bunnies here at the moment. Sigh. My tendency is to just withdraw and then into a depressed lump on the couch, but I'm trying to fight that. Not real successful so far, but I'm trying.

And so far I'm doing my morning pages, which seem to be a bitch and moan fest... Still have to do my artist's date for the week. Not in the mood.

Where I've Been and Where I'm Going

It seems like its been a really long time since I updated. Let's see if I can fill in the blanks.

Mostly, I've been painting and sketching, and dealing with cranky teething boy.

On Saturday July 3rd, we went to Home Depot and made them considerably richer, ordering a four ton load of landscaping materials. We just stayed home on the Fourth, because we didn't think Mikro would do well at the late evening fireworks party we were invited to.

Kevin built a temporary enclosure in the backyard to keep Mikro out of his work zone, and give the boy a safe place to really run around. He had a blast! He also tried his big plastic ride-in car for the first time, and laughed hysterically while Daddy pushed him around. He even figured out how to propel it with his feet, but only in reverse.

On Monday, Kevin spent hours in the high humidity heat blowing up one of those inflatable bouncer things. It is six feet in diameter and about three feet high. I can't believe he stuck with it and got the thing blown up. We put Mikro in it, and he liked it for about thirty seconds, then started howling because he couldn't figure out that only the door area was big enough to exit through, but the windows were not. We rescued him and amused him with the car.

Kevin went to work on Tuesday, then was off Wednesday to take delivery of the landscaping tonnage, and Thursday was supposed to be get started day. Well, they didn't have the gravel in stock, and it wouldn't come till Friday, so nothing could be built before the weekend. Turned out it took Kev all day with a wheelbarrow to relocate the stones to the work area from the driveway.

Next day we ran errands.

Friday he went to work, and then to his Mom's to fix her heating system, which decided to turn itself on in July. He got home late, after the kid was literally screaming inconsolably for an hour, and we proceeded to have A Major Argument.

So, its a tense weekend. He was outside all day moving a ton of gravel and then starting to dig out the hillside where the Great (Retaining) Wall of Croton is going to be built. After we get the retaining wall done, we get to pay a contractor to chain link the backyard for Mikro's safety.

I just signed up to do a Walking in This World group on Wet Canvas, an artists board that I frequent. WiTW is the follow-on to Julia Cameron's original Artists Way program. It looks like an interesting journey. I'm hoping that doing it with a group will get me to stick it out through the entire 12 week program. I generally fizzle out in about week four of the Artists Way when I do it solo (and it is not a coincidence that week 4 is Reading Deprivation Week, something I have yet to successfully endure!) So, I will be busy with that, and my pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding series of paintings (which you can see on my live journal if interested), and Mikro, of course, for rest of the summer.

Painting again. Yay!

It's just an underpainting, done with no pencil sketch, all brushwork, but at least it's something. You can see it on my live journal.

Speaking of photos, thought I would post a couple of Mikro with the grandparents.

Here's Grampa:


And here is Nutty Gramma (yes, we call her that, and it was HER idea!), when she was behaving herself:



Now if blogger behaves and actually displays them without forcing them to the bottom of my blogroll and leaving a ridiculous amount of blank space, I will do the Snoopy Dance of Joy.

The Grandparents Were Here, Now Get Me a Drink!

My parents were up for a visit this weekend. There were great moments, and lousy ones. Many more good than bad, but some of the bad were doosies.

First, the good:

• Watching my Dad grinning from ear to ear while swinging on a park swing with Mikro in his lap.



• Dad sending Mikro down the slide.



• Realizing the amazingly goofy faces my Dad makes to amuse his grandson.



• Mom with the boy, who she calls an angel. She is just crazy in love with him.



• Dad and I discussing financial matters like a couple of adults... like intellectual equals, even.



• Dad being cool with public breastfeeding!

Now, the bad:

No matter HOW much I love them, I could NEVER EVER EVER live in the same house as my parents for more than a day and a half! And that is mostly my mom's doing. She drove me insane. And I mean run away from home and sit on a tropical beach drinking frozen margaritas to block out the pain freaking insane.

If Mikro cries for thirty seconds, she starts with the Oh my God , what's wrong with the baby freakout. And it doesn't matter if I tell her, I just took the TV remote away from him and he's mad. She is convinced that he is dying of a rare tropical disease, or has a hidden skull fracture, or something equally dire.

God forbid he actually stumbles, because then she thinks a trip to the emergency room is in order, even if he gets up, dusts himself off, and is happily playing.

It makes me nuts!

The anxiety level gets ratchetted up to the point where it seems like my head will explode, and then I will snap at her, and she will get truly pissy with me. And then she will say, in what is supposed to be a kidding around way, oh, you're being a bad mommy. And that is just the red matador's cape being twirled in front of the bull. It is hurtful, and it makes me so angry I grind my teeth. Or yell.

So, that put a rather large damper on what was otherwise a very nice weekend.

It's funny, my dad and I used to really drive each other nuts, but now we get along fine. My mom has always been one of my very best friends, but being a grandma has made her difficult...

Diversions

I'm back from my trip. We went to the Berkshires with a friend for a few days. Took Mikro swimming, and he has transformed from the Incredible Water Hating Boy into a little guppie. He loved it.

I tried doing a quick water color sketch for an oil painting I'm thinking about today. Came out pretty badly. Definitely a do-over... I took a few reference photos that may help a bit with the arm position on my figure, but I'm aiming for something looser and more abstract than my usual stuff, so we'll see what happens. I don't want to get tied down to the photos.

I am missing my little Piper, but I know I can't dwell on it, and I know she's at peace. So I am trying to keep myself busy and keep my mind on other things...

Speaking of which, here's a little puzzle that my husband showed me. It drove me nuts. Petals Around the Rose

Rest in Peace

Piper McMutt
Sweet Soul, Loyal Friend
June 19, 1991 - June 13, 2004

I will love you forever, Piper Angel.

Panic Button

So I'm sitting at my computer, enjoying a half frozen bottle of water in my deathly silent corner of suburbia, when I hear a car horn honking rhythmically. This is like a flashback to my New York City days, when car alarms at all hours of the day or night were just part of the soundtrack that was my life. But up here is Snoozeville? Damn, I think, that sounds like it's right outside my window. Take another sip or two. Jeez, that sounds like MY car... Oh, shit, is someone trying to steal my car?!? So out into the driveway I race, only to find The Blue Beast, sitting there by its lonesome, tooting at me. WTF? I stand there stupidly, mouth gaping, until the truth dawns on me: MIKRO HAS MY CAR KEYS! And the little (expletive deleted) monkey has hit the panic button. So I run back in and frantically scrounge for my keys, praying that the neighbors don't call the cops. Find them stuffed into the side of the couch and go shut The Beast up. Lesson in Mommyhood: Never leave your purse where the little people can get it...

Funny Bone

One of the most amazing parenting moments so far has been watching Boyo develop a sense of humor. He's not just giggling over being tickled, or having raspberries blown on his tummy these days. He flips through his board books by himself and will point at an illustration and laugh his head off. He laughs at Saturday morning cartoons, and chuckles at the antics of our silly cats and dogs. He also laughs at me when I trip over his toys and nearly break my neck...

Learning to Paint People

Mikro took a nap. And I took a risk. Tried watercolor pencils for the first time, and tried a subject at which I am not very proficient. I am not very good at people. Landscapes, still life, animals, no problem. People? Aaack. And I chose a particularly difficult photo to work from. My son has a smirk on his face which really seems to throw off the expected geometry... So, anyway, here's my effort, which does not do him justice. But hopefully I learned something (not the least of which is to do my pencil sketch a heck of a lot more lightly and erase before adding color), and my next portrait will be a little better... I would really like to get to the point where I wouldn't be embarassed to take a life drawing class... But I've a ways to go yet!

The reference photo is in the previous entry. Here's the painting:

Just Because

He's the light of my life, my little imp boy.

Painting!

I actually got to paint today! Didn't happen yesterday, since the boy only napped for half an hour, and that wasn't even enough time to get set up... Today he sacked out for a couple hours, and I got to get my hands dirty. This is the first time I've been able to touch my oils since I found out I was pregnant at the end of August 2002! And since that is what was on my mind, what showed up on the canvas comes as no big surprise...



Now if I hadn't managed to probably break a couple of toes, today would have been one very excellent day. Aw, heck, it was anyway.

Daydreaming Brushstrokes

Apparently, my Art Withdrawal Syndrome is full blown. I am actually noodling off and imagining the feeling of a brush moving through buttery smooth oil paint. I miss it that much. And nothing less than oils will provide the necessary fix. Watercolor just doesn't give me the same tactile satisfaction, and while I will sometimes play with acrylics, they just do not get under my skin the way working in oil does.

So today, Kev helped me navigate the over-stuffed garage (my studio, which is now a shambles) and dig out my supplies. I transfered everything from my wheelbarrow, which is my makeshift taboret, into a large plastic toolbox, which Kev somehow managed to lift and drag into the house. Then I unburied my easel, and my last work in progress, and they joined the paints in the dining room.

I had vowed to give up my oils until Boyo was older, but I am losing my mind. So I will leave him in the baby-gated safety of the adjoining living room, and work in the dining room for now. Unfortunately, I am a slob of a painter. I generally wipe my brushes on my pants... I am going to have to change my habits to keep the babe safe...

Now I just have to mount another archaeological expedition to the closet in the Boy's room, which is where my canvases are crammed...

For some unknown reason, I am burning to do large scale absracts, even though I generally paint representationally...

At this point, it doesn't matter what I do, or even if it's good or not, so long as my fingers can feel that familiar old sensation of brush gliding through oil paint...

I think I may actually paint tomorrow! (I definitely will paint tomorrow if the little guy naps!)

C'est moi?

P	Proud
A	Artsy
I	Insane
N	Nice
T	Timeless
I	Innocent
N	Naive
G	Graceful
T	Twisted
O	Organic
S	Scary
T	Tough
A	Appreciative
Y	Yummy
S	Smart
A	Astonishing
N	Nerdy
E	Expressive

Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

Or there's:

L	Loving
U	Useful
N	Nerdy
A	Appreciative
C	Charismatic
H	Hardworking
E	Extreme
L	Luxurious
E	Elitist

Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

Or:

C	Creepy
H	Hairy
E	Eccentric
L	Legendary
E	Exquisite

Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

If I were a cartoon, I'd look like this:


Make your own here.

Too tired to post anything halfway coherent, but here is a recent picture of my little monkey:

Memorial Day Weekend

We're trying to clean up a bit, in anticipation of my sister in law's family visiting tomorrow. We have too much junk. It's really impossible to get beyond a certain unsatisfactory point in bringing order to the chaos, because there is just no place to put some of it away... So, there are stray books, magazines and DVDs in the oddest places my husband can come up with to hide them...

Mikro's toys are covering the entire living room floor, and there is next to no point in putting them away till the crack of dawn tomorrow, because ten minutes after I do, he will pull them all out again and laugh at me for bothering.

Kevin refers to the process of packing them away as parting the Plastic Sea.

Got the boy puzzles yesterday at the Goodwill, which he is still probably not ready for. Although he did take great joy in turning them over, knocking all the pieces to the floor, and kneading them together like a great big ball of dough. Sorting them back out and putting them back together became daddy's job.

I am beginning to think my son resents the little time he allows me at the computer, because it seems like every time I sit down to blog, he comes up to the baby gate and growls, and then I smell the distinctive odor of baby poop. I swear he times it so he can get me off the computer! Gotta go.

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop...

I have spent the last three days on the verge of a panic attack, which I wish would just come and get me already and get it the hell over with.

Not knowing what is making me this anxious really sucks. If I could figure out the trigger, I might be able to do something to shake it off. As it is, it's oppressive, and maddening, and it's making my chest hurt. I really hate this.

I probably made it worse yesterday by deciding to undertake a little Do It Yourself Therapy. I picked up The PTSD WORKBOOK and started going through it. Probably a pretty stupid thing to do when you are already hanging off the panic cliff by your fingertips...

Tomorrow is my Mom's 60th Birthday. Visiting her would entail taking the baby on a cummulative 8 hours of train rides. I just can't subject him (or anyone else) to that. So I won't see Mom for a major milestone birthday. Can you say GUILT TRIP? Mostly self imposed. I invited my parents to meet us at Central Park, which would be a two plus hour round trip for me, and a three hour round trip for them. It's meeting pretty much half way. I offered to take them to the zoo and buy everyone lunch or dinner. They declined. They are afraid of terrorists. Which pretty much means they are letting the bastards win, if you ask me.

Anyway, I smell baby poop. Gotta go.

Masochistic Menu

5 baby wipes

4 paper plates

3 plastic cheese slice wrappers

2 poopy diapers

and a trip to the kennel to think about her sins.

Otherwise known as, what the big dog had for breakfast.

Happy Birthday, Little Brother

My brother turns 37 today. He's throwing himself a huge birthday bash at a nearby water park. We're not going, because we can't get there by public transport. Just heard he's got a major professional opportunity on the horizon. It would involve moving back to NYC, so my parents are against it... I hope my brother makes his own decision. Only down side is, he would be working with a close frind, and that can be a truly tricky situation to navigate... I should know. Hiring a frind cost me a friendship. So, here's wishing my brother all the best, whatever he decides, and a happy birthday too!

Hot & Humorless

It's hot here, and humid too. The Boy is crabby. As in: Will.Not.Stop.Screaming. I think we have hit that lovely separation anxiety stage. Once again, I stood in plain sight to open the front door and let the dogs out, and the screaming started. Once he gets on a roll, he just goes with it... Sometimes for an hour nonstop. Sometimes he stops for ten minutes, usually to watch a stupid car commercial, and then screams for another hour, until he's too tired to go on and will finally consent to nurse, and, if I'm lucky, fall asleep. His napping is totally irregular at this point. Some days it's 15 minutes, some days 2 hours. My sanity is fraying, badly. I'll probably pop him in the stroller and attempt to distract him with a walk if he doesn't chill out soon. If it doesn't thunderstorm again...

We bought an air conditioner over the weekend, and Kev installed it. For the first time in 13 years, I will not have to spend the summer holed up in my bedroom, the only cool oasis in the hot house. We got a 12,000 BTU unit, which cools the entire downstairs. Woo hoo. Of course, my computer is in the one spot in the whole house that has zero airflow, so sitting here is like taking a sauna, even though it's pleasantly cool five feet away in any direction...

Big dog is doing well at the moment, despite having eaten a poopy diaper Monday.

Just heard that a neighborhood dog was killed by coyotes, so I am going to have to stop tying little blind dog out in the yard when she gets stubborn about pooping...

Lord, reading this, my life really does seem to center on other creatures' bowel movements. Ah, motherhood.

Long Days

About sums it up.

Mikro is both teething and going through a separation anxiety thing today. I am not allowed to go pee or make tea without hellacious howling from the peanut gallery. It has been an extremely long day. (I've been saying that since 1030 am...)

My neck is horrendously painful, and my dear son is taking great joy in bonking me on the head, attempting to rip my hair out, and climbing on my back, all of which are making the pain worse.

The big dog has diarrhea again, and she's looking to go out every five minutes. I just have to let her out the front door into the yard. Even though he can still see me plainly from behind the baby gate, Boyo screams every time I let the mutt out.

My husband picked tonight to go to his mom's with a buddy, which I begged him to do on a Friday. Because then my 20 hour solo parenting hell would at least be followed by a weekend day when I could get a break... But no, he's gone on a Tuesday, so the 20 hour crabby-boy-athon will be followed tomorrow by a 14 hour redux. Rinse, lather, repeat till Friday. Oh, joy.

I didn't sleep much at all last night, even though I was exhausted from the weekend.

I am feeling really bad because I need to get around to email and comment replies, which I haven't touched since last week... But the five minutes I'm getting to post here may be all my little dictator allows me...

Quick weekend recap-
Saturday saw my psychiatrist. She thinks I'm a weirdo hippy parent. She's my mom's age, so that kind of figures... She definitely doesn't approve of the cosleeping, extended breastfeeding stuff... Also did grocery shopping, went to Goodwill and bought the ever growing weed boy some bigger jeans, and ate at an overpriced Italian place in the next town over that caused me major gastrintestinal unhappiness.

Sunday: made pancakes. Spilled half the batter down my leg and across the kitchen floor. Big dog cleaned up (which explains her aforementioned diarrhea). Waied for my friend A to join us before heading to river front for the local Shad Fest. She called, running late, so we took off and said we'd see her there. Hiked a couple miles with the stroller packed with a picnic lunch. Got to the park and let Mikro watch his first ever puppet show (about the Hudson River Estuary), chased him across the fields, breastfed him under a shady tree in the middle of a huge crowd, gave him a taste of Mr. Softee vanilla ice cream, met A, did the craft booth circuit, spent money, took photos, and hiked home. My feet still hurt.

He's yelling again, so that's it for mama's computer time.

A Bundle of Contradictions

That's me.

I have conflicting feelings about so many things in my life right now.

I love being home with my son, and I am privileged to be able to watch him learning and growing full time, but I wish it was by choice. I'm home not because we decided it would be the best thing for our family, but because I was home anyway. Because I am disabled and can't work. It's getting harder and harder for me to physically cope with my growing toddler, and I am constantly worried about what my limitations are, and how much of a price I pay in pain for exceeding them.

Since I settled my lawsuit concerning The Accident, it feels like there is a tremendous expectation that 11 years of spinal problems and PTSD should magically end. People in my life must have thought I was faking it on some level to now think that everything should be all hunky dory just because the lawsuit is settled.

Settling itself is a huge source of mixed emotions. Yeah, the battle is over, I can look forward to one major trigger being eliminated, and a bit less ambient level stress in the future. That's definitely a good thing.

But it will forever irk me that I let them off the hook, that I settled because of some legal fuckups that made it just too risky to go to trial -- as in, possibly not being able to call a single expert witness because certain deadlines were not met-- not because the offer on the table bore even a ghostly resemblence to what my actual losses were. I am not a quitter. I wanted to go the distance and have a jury tell the people who hurt me that it was NOT alright, and that they would NOT get away with it. I didn't get that satisfaction.

By settling for the pittance I could get, rather than risking walking away with nothing, I let them off easy. I did not put a big enough dent in their checkbook that they will think twice about doing this to someone else. The idea that they will just conduct business as usual, and let other innocent people pay the price of their reckless indifference, their greed, their refusal to take even de minimus safety precautions, just makes me sick.

Yes, I am stupid and naieve for ever thinking this was about justice. I should know better.

But some visceral sense of justice, of vindication, mattered far more to me than any sum of money, because cash is not going to restore me, physically or mentally, to the young, healthy person I was before The Accident. It is cold comfort. Yes, it is nice to not be living completely hand to mouth, husband's paycheck to husband's paycheck, as we have for the past ten years. It's nice that there is a cushion if another disaster befalls us. But it doesn't make up for the fact that I am in excruciating pain every day, that I feel like a freak, that I feel useless because I can't work anymore. It isn't a magic cure for what ails me. Not by a long shot.

I'm angry at people who think that it should be.

I'm angry at my doctors, for pretty much deciding not to do anything to help me while I am breastfeeding, and for pressuring me to stop, so I can get back on my medication. I am frightened about changes in medication that have been proposed for the future, and wondering if just going without and being in pain and horrifically anxious is better than the alternative.

I'm angry at myself, for getting PTSD in the first place, because I know the judgment that other people make is that I must be weak or have some character flaw to have let this affect me so terribly, and part of me thinks they must be right.

I'm angry at the people who judge me for being angry.

Most of all, I'm angry at the people who caused The Accident, and I just don't know how to get over that, to forgive and forget, when every day that I wake up in pain is a reminder of what they did to me, of the fact that they valued my life so cheaply.

All in all, I'm dealing with alot of things I'd rather just try to avoid.

That is my dysfuctional, but generally effective, PTSD coping technique. Obsess about something trivial, and avoid the overwhelming stuff. Only at this point, it has stopped working. Compulsive shopping, insanely addicted escapist reading binges, surfing the net, none of that is providing even temporary relief from the tightness in my chest, the flashback or panic attack lurking on the fringes waiting to assault me.

And the Boy just will not let me paint, so that outlet is closed for the time being.

On top of all this, I wish my husband and I were not going round and round about the same old problems, without ever getting to a resolution. We love each other, but we are very different. Sometimes that is just hard.

Pest Control

Ugh. Homeownership really seems to be about swimming for your life against the tide of decay and destruction. We had the place sprayed yesterday for carpenter ants. The termite erradication began last Saturday. I know its purely psychosomatic, but I am itchy and feel like there are ants crawling on me. Yuck.

Boyo has been turning into an unfortunately nocturnal creature of late. He was so active Tuesday night that we had to give up entirely on him falling asleep and bring him back downstairs to the living room to exhaust himself in play. Not my idea of what life at 2 a.m. is supposed to look like. Last night he stubbornly held on to consciousness until after 1 a.m., but at least he wasn't body slamming me, climbing me, hitting, pinching, and pulling my hair like he was the night before...

He only does this to me. He plays nice with everyone else, but he routinely whales on me. I am his freaking trampoline. I am not proud of how annoyed it made me at 2 a.m. Visions of boy velcroed to wall danced in her head... Instead, we went downstairs and he played with his trucks while his daddy and I attempted to remain at least partially awake and watchful.

Finally, around 3:30, he looked a bit sleepy, and by 4 a.m., we were all out. Phew. The only redeeming quality about his timing was that Daddy had yesterday off because of the exterminator, so he didn't have to attempt to fuction at work on two hours sleep.

Must Read & Dunking Jesus

Go see Fluid Pudding. It should be illegal to be this funny! She made me pee my pants. (Granted, it's easier to do after the whole pregnancy and childbirth thing, but still!)

Hope everyone had a nice Mothers Day. Ours was quiet. Kev bought me brunch, and we took a nice long walk with Stroller Boy.

Wierdest thing to come out of mama's mouth this weekend:

Uh, did you just dunk Jesus in the dog water?

Think 12 month old with rosary and convenient puddle....

Phone prodigy

Mikro is fascinated with the phone. Not toy phones, mind you, of which he has four. Only the real deal will do. He enjoys button pushing and disconnecting me while I'm talking.

Well, he has a new trick.

Today he dialed 911.

The nice policeman was very understanding, but my cheeks are still red. Not only did we waste his time when there might have been a real emergency, but we also treated him to a view of me at my absolute grungiest: Hair up in rubber band a la Pebbles Flintstone, paint covered tshirt, baby sweet potatoes covered pants, and extremely dirty toddler stuffed under one arm like a football.

What a lovely impression we must have made. Cue the theme from the Beverly Hillbillies... Gah!

How To Turn A Vegetarian's Stomach

Take a product that used to be free of meat and change it, without a big honking notice that you've changed it, so that when I unsuspectingly microwave it, I fill my house with the odor of cooking flesh.

Absofuckinglutely gross.

Thank you Weight Watchers for eliminating a staple from my lunch menu. Santa Fe Rice & Beans was quick, easy, full of protein, and one of the few fucking entrees you make that I could eat. Not anymore. Now it's tainted with chicken fat, chicken meat, and goodness knows what else.

I hoped I was wrong, but as it started to cook, I detected the distinct stench of dead animal.

May I say, your new and improved simply reeks.

Gag.

I became a vegetarian when I was a little kid, because I didn't want to eat anything that could have been my friend. After thirty years not ingesting my fellow creatures, the smell of cooking meat actually turns my stomach. Thank you, Weight Watchers, for nearly making me puke.

This is new...

He can't press the horn on his car yet -- it takes too much force. But Kev was honking it, and he was giggling. When Kev stopped, Boyo grabbed his hand and dragged it back onto the horn. Pretty eloquent substitute for AGAIN!

He's also saying dog now, in addition to mama, dada, nay nay, baby (baybay) and big. He flips the pages in his board books and really studies each page, and he's starting to have the attention span to let us read to him, or watch a video for more than a minute and a half. Mr. aquaphobia is even splashing gleefully in the dog dish. Maybe soon he won't scream like a banshee in the bath...

Can't resist that smile!

I just can't resist the temptation to post a couple of pictures of my happy little guy.



His smile just lights up my soul.

Like the Grinch, I think my heart grew 10 sizes the day he was born.

Fingerpaintng

Any time he spills food, he gleefully smears it over any surface within reach... the couch, the high chair, the coffee table, his clothing, me...

So I figured, what the heck, let's try him with fingerpaints.

Um, no interest. None at all.

The paint was already glopped on the paper, so mama starts playing.

Next thing you know, the Boy and the little blind dog decide to participate afterall. By walking in the paints. Boyo also added to the design by falling on his rump right smack in the middle... He likes the little plastic spatula that makes parallel lines, and is waving it around vigorously.

I wiped his hands and feet and other fleshy purple and green bits, but at the moment, his white t-shirt is multicolored, and the dog has a green beard...

I'll post our masterpiece once it dries.. And here it is:

Scary

My husband was trying to call his mom to wish her a happy birthday. He couldn't get her all day Saturday. The strange thing was, her answering machine was not picking up. So we figured that maybe she accidentally turned it off, as my parents have occassionally managed to do. We were a bit worried. We try to call her next door neighbor, but there's no answer there. So, we figure, try again tomorrow.

Sunday morning, we get a call from a friend who has not been able to reach her since Thursday. This freaks us both out, and not being able to reach her neighbor either makes us think dire scary thoughts.

So Kev hops on a train and runs out there.

We are both trying not to imagine the worst.

Two hours later, he rings the doorbell, and there's mom, fit as a fiddle.

Her phone line was dead.

Whew.

So, she got an unexpected visit for her birthday. And we nearly had heart failure...

Slightly More Babyproof

Our TV is now secured to the wall with furniture mounting brackets from OneStepAhead.com. I love that catalog. They have some really cool stuff, like the Strollex Sit & Stroll carseat/stroller, which really helps for people who take cabs or public transportation, as we sill do. So fartI've backed the car in &out of the driveway a few times, but that's all...

Mikro Update

He got up on the coffee table and sat there crosslegged watching TV, looking like a mini me.

Then he stood up and knocked all the video casettes off the top of the TV.

Methinks it's time to bolt the TV to the wall.

Pondering: Why do the people I rely on for support have no problem taking anyone else's side but mine? I get attacked on a board. I defend myself. I tell a friend, who tells me I am acting like a troll for defending myself. That makes me feel lower than dog shit. I do back and delete every one of my carefully considered posts, because who the hell cares what I think. I just feel walked on, and hurt, and emotionally fragile, and like it would be a really good thing if I could just disappear and not have to deal with another living soul (except possibly Mikro, although a break even from him would be good for awhile...)

Song in my head at the moment:

Somedays the diamond, somedays the stone
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone
Sometimes the cold rain puts a chill in my bones....

Judgmental People and AP

Judgmental people really piss me off. And I really have to wonder why so many people who purport to be AP (Attachment Parenting) are so horribly inflexible and judgmental of other adults. How compassionate are they really with their children when they can feel free to verbally abuse and belittle other people? Or is cruelty OK as long as the victim is over 18?

Man, if being a narrow minded holier than thou snot is a prerequisite for the AP credential, please accept my letter of resignation.

I have actually had a panic attack and am sitting here in tears, feeling like I have been utterly demeaned and devalued. It's my fault for posting, I guess. I just never expected the venom I encountered. And it hurts. It hurts to reveal something personal and have it used as a weapon against you.

I have to say, I would rather be hit any day than subjected to emotional abuse that cuts my soul.


Words can hurt worse than fists.

Mikro's Extended Birthday Festivities

The party goes on and on...

Today two of my oldest, dearest friends (the sort that I consider Family) came up to celebrate Mikro's first year on the planet. We had a great time, and the Boy charmed everyone.

I'm not going to post photos without their permission, but here are a few from his actual birthday, April 18th, and of him today...

His birthday cake, which I did the writing on...



His grandparents & us...


He LOVES balloons!


At the park

At the park again


What a difference a year makes! Here's a before and after shot to compare... please scroll past the blogroll if there aren't two pictures-- Blogger is driving me nuts tonight, and refusing to do what I tell it.



with the after:

Baby Has A Fever

Crap. My mom must have given him her bronchitis cooties, because little guy has a fever, and he's utterly miserable. Crap crap crappity crap... At least he's already set to see the pediatrician tomorrow.

He was shrieking and flailing before (and now he's conked out on the couch asleep, thank goodness!), and managed to headbutt me in the face. Hard. I have a fat lip, and my teeth hurt. He doesn't have a mark on him. Why does my son think his head is a battering ram?

Gramma has Bronchitis

Yipes. My mom has bronchitis. Mikro spent all day Sunday smooching on her. I really hope he doesn't get sick...

Tomorrow is his one year doctor's appointment. I can't wait to find out how much bigger he's grown. The poor kid is having blood drawn, as well as shots, so it promises to be a stressful visit. Kev is taking the day off to go with us...

First Birthday Party

Mikro's birthday was fun. My parents came up. MIL was sick and couldn't make it. My brother didn't come, but sent tons of presents for the little guy.

We had helium balloons, which were quite the hit with the Boy, and a big banner and a cake and good company. My Dad and Kev played on the floor with the Boy and his toys. Nutty Gramma was in heaven with lots of big smoochie kisses from her grandson. He walked and babbled and giggled and generally charmed the grandparents.

He was really good until after lunch, when he started teething with a vengence. He screamed through the singing and the birthday cake. He wouldn't mush the cake, or try even a mouthful. Totally uninterested, and focused on his nasty painful teeth. Poor baboo. He was slightly distracted by the party favors-- what do you call the things that you blow into and they uncurl? I used mine to bat around a balloon, which he thought was hysterically funny.

We put him in the stroller to walk gramma & grampa to the train, and he conked out. Later, he played with balloons most of the evening, and had a pretty big meltdown before bed. Way overstimulated baby.

He also bit my arm so hard there is a big purple welt, and I think if I hadn't yanked itaway, he might have broken the skin. Ouch.

He's napping now, so I'm going to try and get the laundry done. Will post photos later.

A Year Ago Today: Mikro's Birth Story

April 16th was my "due date", which came and went. I have an ultrasound on April 17th, and they say my amniotic fluid is low. I get a 7/8 on the Biophysical Profile, the only deduction being the low fluid. The previous day, it was 80 degrees here after a week in the 40s, and I sweated like a horse all night, so it would not surprise me in the least to find that I was dehydrated. That said, my OB's partner wants to induce me immediately, using cervidil and pitocin, and basically strap me to a bed for the duration. With my severe claustrophobia and PTSD, I am losing my mind just thinking about it.

I am counting on being able to move around for as long as possible through labor. Now they want to imobilize me. I don't think I could take it.

No one says the words emergency, or fetal distress. The baby's heart rate is perfectly normal, his movement is good, everything else is going fine. I can't believe for one day past due they want to subject me to this ordeal. I am frantically trying to get ahold of my doctor, whose service had supposedly paged her.

I feel like her partner is far more concerned with CYA than any problem with me or the baby. She wants me to go in immediately, but I refuse (she cannot believe I dare) and say I will go in the morning, hoping to buy time and speak to my regular OB doc.

Shortly after that, I get a call back from my own doctor, who is on vacation, because of the school holidays, but not actually out of town. She tells me her partner called her and said I was freaking out, which I admit I am, and we have a long conversation.

Her partner's first language is not English, and there was big time miscommunication going on, besides the fact that pushing me the way she did is a recipe for disaster.

My doc gives me an entirely different description of how it would work -- only on the external belt monitors, free to move around after they run a baseline tape on the baby to be sure the cervidil isn't harming him, free to labor in the tub, walk around, do it my way.

They had followed me for the low fluid, which was an on-again, off-again thing with me the last month or so of the pregnancy. Personally, I think I was just plain dehydrated from stress (lawsuit stuff) and the very unseasonably warm weather, but my doc didn't really want me to take a chance, because apparently the level was very low... and the baby was full term.

I say to her, it sounds to me like what happens to me will depend on who is in the room, you or your partner, and tell her that I don't want her partner.

My doc offers to come in and deliver him herself if I will go in and do it. Since there is a good chance I am going to have him in the next five days when her partner is the only one available, I figure my best bet is to take her up on it and have someone I trust there instead. She also tells me she had checked with the hospital, and no one else is in labor that night, so the likelihood I will be able to have the tub room for my labor is really good. Since I don't want drugs, that's important to me.

So I go in. They stick the cervidil in at 10 pm, and by 1130 I am off the monitors and walking around. That lasts till around 2 am, when I get in the tub because the pain is getting pretty bad. Just before I get in the tub, I am puking my guts out, which is nothing new, since I puked the entire nine months...

Oh-- forgot to mention-- the monitor isn't working real well in the tub room. They have a good readout on Mikey's heartbeat, but they can't track my contractions...

That tub makes a HUGE difference-- I actually fall asleep floating in the warm water. But around 4 am, even with the Lamaze breathing, the contractions are really bad, so I decide to get out and that I will probably let them put in an IV and take the stadol "to take the edge off" but still avoid the epidural.

Now life gets interesting, because I have always had lousy veins. They can't get an IV started. Every time they get in a vein, it collapses. So an hour, six or eight tries and a call to the IV team later, I still have no IV, no drugs, not even a Tylenol, and I am now yelling in pain. (You should have seen my arms and hands-- I looked like a boxer who lost the bout... huge purple bruises everywhere from the IV sticks.)

Of course, it is Good Friday, and it seems like only the youngest, least experienced people are on duty... While the IV follies are going on, the nurses decide that, no way has the cervidil worked yet since it hasn't been 12 hours, so I must be overly sensitive to it and reacting badly, because I should not be in so much pain so soon. The implication is, I am a wimp. They think I am 2 cm's dialated. So they decide to pull out the cervidil. They start fishing around for it. Neither can find it. That is agony. They still haven't called my doctor!

Around now, the IV team nurse finally hits a good vein. And the on call obstetrician stops in to check on me. She takes a look, asks the nurses how far they think I am (still 2 cms) and tells them, no, closer to 7, and the kid's head is RIGHT there, slamming away at my cervix, and he is just about ready to come out. No wonder you are in so much pain! says she.

Now she decides to fish for the cervidil, and I am yelling my head off in pain and snark: Uh, could I get the pain relief before you stick your hand any further up there?!?

It's 630 am. They call my doc. They push the stadol. Of course, it doesn't even begin to work for about 15 minutes, half an hour. (Not a big surprise. Pain meds don't seem to work normally on me. My dentist makes me come in an hour early and get multiple shots so there's a chance novocaine will work before he starts to work on me... Anyway...)

All the stadol does is make it feel like my legs weigh a ton each. Does nothing for pain...They tell me I am not allowed to push until my doc gets there. I am just explaining to them that they better sew my legs shut because there's no way in the world I can keep from pushing when my doc arrives. In half a second, with no pain at all, she snags the cervidil and removes it. I hear her ask the others how they tried to get it as she demonstrates the proper technique. Argh.

Fifteen minutes later, with me yelling loud enough that my husband thinks I damaged his hearing, out pops Michael at 7:05 am. I get a small tear (no episiotomy), which gets stitched up (and I felt every stitch, yuck). I have a surreally bad moment when, immediately after he's out, my doctor announces the time. The only context in which I have ever heard them do that is for time of death. I start to freak out until I hear what at the moment is the most wonderful sound in the world, my sweet son yelling his head off. So the end result is a gorgeous, 8 pound one ounce, 19.5 inch baby boy, who I am immediately in danger of spoiling rotten. Both of us are fine.

After the stitches, he tries to nurse, but falls asleep on my chest instead. They whisk him to the nursery to clean him up, and move me out of the labor and delivery room and into a regular room, where, for the first time in months, I am able to eat and enjoy it. No complaints about hospital food from me! As soon as I am done eating, Mikro is brought to our room, where he and Kev and I spend the next two days together learning the ropes. We go home on Easter Sunday.

One year later, we're still breastfeeding, and he's a happy, healthy beautiful boy who is the brightest and best thing in the universe as far as his mama is concerned.

Messy Stressy

Tomorrow is Mikro's big day. The grandparents are coming to celebrate his first Birthday.

The house is a mess. It attracts clutter, cat hair and dust like a black hole...

We have to clean.

Which will almost certainly mean we wind up arguing and generally miserable.

It's going to be a loooooong day...

Luckily I get to escape briefly to go have lunch with the Crazy ARtists Club to celebrate A's birthday (today) and Mikro's (tomorrow). He is an honorary member of our little club since he likes to finger paint with food. His new favorite toys of the moment are some mini canvases I just got. They were supposed to be for me to paint on, but the Boy has appropriated them as makeshift cymbals. He grabs two and smacks them together...

Well, he likes art supplies, so maybe he'll be interested in mama's obsession/calling/therapy someday...

Walking Boy

It started with a couple steps here and there, before the Road Trip. Then he was wobbling between the couch and the TV stand. Now he's tottering from one end of the room to the other, moving in circles, and getting more steady on his feet each day.

On Saturday, we put sandals on him for the first time and took him outside. He would not walk. He just looked at his feet as if they were alien beings and sat down. Once we took off the sandals, he was up and moving. And I got my first taste of chasing the Boy away from oncoming traffic.

His birthday is Sunday. I can't believe it has been an entire year. My tiny baby is such a big boy already. He is the sweetest, brightest thing I've ever known.

I am not ready for him to stop being a baby!

Getting Back on the Horse...

The road trip went well, despite pretty rotten weather. It rained almost the entire time we were gone, but the sun came out blazing bright and beautiful just after we started down the highway on the return trip. Mikro was exceptionally good. I brought a portable bed rail, and he slept in my bed. Never used the portable playpen. We introduced him to the pool, which was a loud screaming flop. He absolutely hates being in the water. (I probably should have foreseen that, considering he hates baths...) I bought him some really cool birthday presents at the Wild Bird country store in Great Barrington. We had brunch at the red Lion Inn in Stockbridge one morning, and cooked the rest of the time. R is really great with Mikro. She gives him airplane rides, and raspberries on the tummy and rocks him to sleep when he's cranky. It was fun.

Got home and fought with my husband, who doesn't like me posting anything even remotely critical of him here (i.e., the laundry post), so I have to reevaluate whether I'll bitch and moan about him on the blog...

The big news is, I just bought a car (a used but spiffy electric blue PT Crui5er) but am terrified to drive it. (There's an explanation of my driving problem in my 100 Things...) I am probably going to take lessons, since it has been 10 years since I've driven. I really don't want to drive at all. But with Mikro, I need to. So I'm trying to be a grownup and work through my anxiety and do what I need to.

Of course, predictably, my parents are totally unsupportive. My father thinks I'm an idiot for spending the money. My mother ever so helpfully inquires: So what are you going to do when you have a panic attack at the wheel? and Don't you think you're putting Mikro at risk?

Thanks for the coup de grace to any vestiges of calm or confidence, folks...

Road Trip

I'm going to be away for the next couple days. My good friend R and I are going to drive up to her condo in the Berkshires and soak in the hot tub. We're taking Mikro along, and may even give him his first ever swimming lesson in the indoor pool. I really wish Kev was coming along to help out in the pool, but he's in a crabby mood over the turn of his personal decade yesterday... so he's staying home alone.

At the moment, I'm doing my sixth load of laundry, and there are probably at least five more to go. I have a list of stuff to pack, and it's time to get cracking on finding things. Portable play pen, baby gate, stroller, diapers, swim diapers, spoon, clothing, toys, books, favorite blankie, wet wipes... Mikro needs his own personal Quartermaster Corps... And then there's my stuff. Good thing R drives a gigantic SUV. We may just be able to cram two days worth of Mikro's baggage train into it.

Passive Aggressive About Laundry?

My husband hasn't cleaned the cat litter in awhile. Because I have really bad allergies and a touch of asthma, I don't go downstairs to the basement when there is alot of litter dust and dirty litter. So when he doesn't take care of the cat's business, it devolves to him to take care of the laundry.

In fact, he orders me to stay out of the basement until he gets around to cleaning the litter...

Which means that I expect that the laundry will get done. All the laundry. His, mine and the Boy's. However, what inevitably happens is, his laundry gets done, and Mikro and I see maybe 2 clean panties and some socks... Worse yet, he has dumped the laundry on the dusty basement floor and walked on it.

So today I go down there and nearly have a stroke over the disaster that I find.

He claims he doesn't intentionally only do his own clothing and treat my stuff and the baby's stuff worse than garbage; it's purely accidental. But I am beginning to realize the universe just does not host coincidences this freaking big. And then there's the fact that he will wash dishes, but leave my tea cups and coffee mugs, because he doesn't drink coffee or tea, and they must have been mine, so I guess that means he doesn't have to clean them...

Where he gets these ideas I do not know. It never gets resolved either, because Kev doesn't even argue about it, he just assumes that while he is free to pick which messes he will deal with, everything else falls to me by default.

If I had ten minutes free to get anything done without a toddler trying to climb my leg, it wouldn't be so bad. But it is reaching ridiculous proportions.

I know he hates doing laundry. I don't like it, but I am willing to do it, ALL OF IT, so long as I don't risk a broken leg or bronchitis from the condition he leaves the basement in.

And finding some of my favorite shirts chewed to ribbons by the dog did nothing to improve matters.

ARGH!

Happy B-day

Happy Birthday to Kevin, the boy I fell in love with, the man I married, and my son's absolutely awesome daddy!
You are the love of my life, honey!

Crying Over Spilt Milk

We were getting ready to go up to the mall yesterday to buy a camcorder. We have no movies of the Boy's first 11 months of life, but I wanted to be sure we'd have his Birthday preserved for posterity. We go so seldom that when we do go, we try to run every conceivable errand. So one of the many things on our list was to go to home depot and pick up wood to put a rail on the plant shelf, so Mikro doesn't dump 20 pounds of potting soil on my couch... or his head...

So, in aid of that little task, Kevin asked me to measure the shelf...

So genius woman sticks the tape measure up under what she thinks is an empty cup, takes the measurement, and then pulls out the tape. Let's just say the cup wasn't empty. I managed to dump 16 ounces of milk into the fully packed diaper bag, and all over the couch...

My husband watches me getting more and more upset over the soaked diapers, clothing, wallet and checkbook and says:

No use crying over spilt milk!

Of course, when we finally cleaned up and got to the mall, we forgot all about the stupid piece of wood that caused the deluge.

Baseline Dysfunction Level Restored

My mom called to talk to the boy again. I picked up. Apparently we are pretending nothing happened...

Happy Anniversary! Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Today is my 13th Wedding Anniversary. We got married on St. Patrick's Day and spent our honeymoon in Ireland. On that happy day in 1991, I would not have believed it possible, but the truth is, I love my husband more every year. He has stuck by me through some truly tough times, and I will always be grateful to have him in my life.

Here's some wedding pictures...

And links to a couple more...
wedding photo;
wedding party;

engagement photo.

And here we are today, a family:

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Snowing, Snarking and Stressing

Yesterday it was 52 degrees F and sunny. Today, there's over an inch of snow on the ground... Still not talking to mom, still bummed out and stress eating like a fool. Boy woke up screaming several times last night. It was gas. We were short on sleep when the dog added to the joy at 5:30 am by having diarrhea all over the floor and then lying down in it. I've been up and running her out the door every hour or so ever since. At least Boy has had a couple of naps. Wish I could say the same!

Creepy Meme Results

Got this meme from Judy:

1. Enter just your first name into Google
2. Then click the "Images" tab
3. Pick your favorite and post it in your journal.

My results were creepy! Seriously Creepy! A tower constructed of skulls.

Apparently the photo has been removed.

Women's History Month

First I heard of it was a commercial on NBC. So, anyone want to tell me, who are your female heroes?

I must admit, far more of my heroes growing up were male, which I suspect has everything to do with the school curriculum way back when...

Women I can remember admiring as a kid:

Clara Barton, Marie Curie, Joan of Arc, Jane Austen, Amelia Earhart.

I wish the list was longer. Think I will go Google Women's History Month and try to add to it.

If ... Then

Just something I am pondering.

If you don't agree with me, then...

Far Right: You're a traitor / terrorist sympathizer.

Far Left: You're a war monger / bigot.

Religiously Dogmatic: You're going to hell.

My mother: You're a bad mother.

My father: You're an idiot.

My husband: So what else is new?

Me: So what?

Life would be so much more pleasant if people could just agree to disagree and respect those holding different ideas and beliefs. Tolerance and compassion are in way too short supply these days.

Not a Long Enough Distraction...

My friend C came down to visit today. Her dad just had back surgery and is recovering well. Since she was in the area to see him, she dropped by to visit with Mikro and me. We had some girl talk, and she got to play with Danger Boy, who actually is behaving remarkably well today. Too bad C could only stay an hour. She's got an appointment with her car mechanic.

Mikro is now absolutely fascinated with cars. He rolls his cars and trucks around on his baby couch for hours. When he is crying seemingly inconsolably, he'll pause for a car commercial, or a NASCAR race! Unfortunately, he'll usually start right up again once the cars go away.

He also adores James Earl Jones. Guess it's that amazing voice. And the breakdancing in the Verizon commercials really gets his attention...

Still teething, and still biting his mama at every opportunity. Yesterday he bit me on the face, which I really didn't like. I can't wait till this boy has all his choppers and quits using me for a chew toy.

Crummy Correlations

I'm not talking to my mom .: I'm depressed and stressed .: Today I bought Entemanns crumb donuts.

So much for my no-refined-sugar vow.

Sigh. The perfect way to end a crummy day.

Needy

Oh, my, Mikro's feeling needy. All day yesterday he cried the moment I set him down. I guess we have reached the separation anxiety stage... It doesn't help that he's pulling my hair, pinching and biting constantly...

I hope this is a stage he outgrows rapidly.

I'm starting to think about his first birthday party, which will be next month. (He'll be 11 months next Thursday.) It will probably be a fairly small group, mostly family, and I'm thinking that I'll bake the cake and make baked ziti and eggplant parmagiana (if I get my oven fixed!) We'll see...

He did one super cute thing yesterday, though. I had folded up the sheet that I use as a breastfeeding coverup and left it on the coffee table. While I was in the kitchen making a cup of tea, he pulled it down on the floor, smushed it up into a nest, and lay down on it and fell asleep. Pretty big deal, because he actually went down on his own, without boobie!

I wish I had been able to get to a camera, but I know I would have woken him up trying. And Mikro woken up before he's good and ready is anything but cute!

Found the Answer to My Question

Free stats tracking is available via Statcounter.com.

Can Anyone Tell Me...

I've seen on other blogs from time to time that some bloggers are able to figure out what google searches are leading people to their blog. Does anyone (of the maybe eight people who actually read this) know how to do that?

And A Bit of Silliness

To the tune of Come On Eileen:

Cmon Baboo
Well ya know what I do
I clean your butt
And your peepee too
Lie on your back
Oh and please don't act whack
Cmon Baboo
Let me diaper you-oo!

Yes, I'm nuts...

Editted due to the reaction I got that this was gross to clarify: This is something I sing to my ten month old baby while changing his diaper.

I guess I can see how someone might construe it otherwise, but if you know my blog, it's pretty obviously about the kid, not something perverse.

Whew

Danger Boy just gave me a bit of hope that he won't land in the emergency room... He just scooted down off the couch on his belly, feet first, as we have been trying to teach him for the last three months. Usually he would just crawl to the edge and proceed to attempt to hurl himself head first into the ground, but today, with no prompting whatsoever, he chose to do it the right way!

Woohoo!

or should I say

Whew!

Major sigh of relief time, though I know better than to think this means I don't have to watch him like a hawk... Now maybe I can be mildly worried, instead of utterly panic stricken...

We Don't Need No Education -or- A Freak Like Me

I figured out another reason why my mother pissed me off so much yesterday.

Earlier in the day, I had mentioned to her an argument that Kev and I had over the weekend, and she used what I told her to push the same button that he had to hurt me.

REWIND:

Over the weekend, I was reading the current issue of Mothering magazine, which has an article about Waldorf education. It was interesting, and I wanted to learn more. So I did an Amazon search on books about Waldorf for preschoolers, and homeschooling as well.

Not because I have made any decisons whatsoever about Mikro's education, other than that I will see to it he gets the very best possible.

In fact, I rather hope he goes to our local public school, for which we are paying astronomical school tax, because it will mean I get a part of the day back to devote to my artwork. But if I find out he will not be well served there, then I will do whatever is necessary, including homeschooling.

So I found a bunch of books to start doing some research on different educational philosophies and methods, because I know I am woefully ignorant on the topic.

My husbands reaction? To blast me for being ridiculous: Really, Chele, this is overkill. He's only a year old (not quite), so why do you want to do this now?

Why? Because I think there is alot to learn, and I want to be able to make informed choices about his education. I want to understand all the options.

For which I get: FRANKLY, ALL THIS TALK ABOUT ALTERNATIVES IS SCARING ME. IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU'RE GOING TO TURN HIM INTO A HERMIT LIKE YOU.

Which I hear as, you are going to turn our kid into a freak just like you.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I am talking to my mom and tell her what Kev said, and how much it hurt me, as someone with my disabilities, never suspecting that, just a couple hours later, she would throw it back in my face.

So at the moment, I am not planning on calling my mother today. Because I just can't stand this kind of hitting below the belt.

My husband and I worked it out. He apologized for making me feel like a freak, and we compromised a bit. I bought maybe half the books I was planning on buying about early childhood education.

My parents and I have alot of philosopical differences. They constantly make remarks like: Oh my God, you're such a hippy! I don't know where we got you!

Sometimes their narrow mindedness really surprises and disappoints me. But, unlike them, I never resort to ridicule and name calling. I just chalk it up to their being products of a different time, and let it go.

I know there is no convincing them that the things I believe in (extended breastfeeding, co-sleeping, attachment parenting, tolerance and respect for all people regardless of our differences) are valid.

I just wish they would return the favor and live and let live, instead of trying to convince me that I am a stupid naieve child who should blindly adopt the sometimes questionable wisdom of her elders.

In thirty eight years, they haven't figured out that I think for myself.

That's pretty sad.

Our Weekend To Do List

Because my brain is made of swiss cheese:

-Install wall mounted baby gates on stairway.

-Add lip to plant shelf so Boy can't pull massive flowerpots down on his head.

-Add center supports to massively overloaded bookcase.

-Go see my shrink.

To be continued...

Be Afraid...

Heaven help me. Today Mikro mastered climbing up onto the couch all by himself...

And Even More Mikro Tricks....

Today he figured out how to flush the toilet. I can just see my water bill tripling...

He has been gleefully tossing my shampoo bottle into the tub for several weeks now. Today he decided that empty toilet paper rolls also belong in there. (I keep a few around to distract him with while I use the facilities... He likes to roll them across the bathroom floor and giggle.)

Most worrisome of all, though, is his sudden desire to climb into the bath tub. He is actually tall enough to get a knee up onto the rim.

Scares me to death!

More New Mikro Tricks

Before I forget...

He has learned about pushing buttons.

I had to disconnect the bedroom phone, because he's dialing it.

He now erases my answering machine messages.

And he loves changing channels on the TV. He's been playing with the remote for months now, but this week he discovered the buttons on the TV itself, and his mission in life is to tune to channel 3 and watch the static. Eeew. Shades of the movie Poltergeist...

He's also learned to play ball. When I say throw it to Mommy, he'll lob or roll it in my direction, and we can keep going back and forth.

He definitely understands alot of what we say, and follows simple commands. Since 7 months, he's been opening his mouth on demand, and he's known come to mommy or come to daddy since about the same time. But drop that and no and get away from there are new additions to his skill set.