Memorial Day weekend 2011 was a blast, a rolling carnival of family, friends, food, and summery weather. I even got to leave the house after dark one night to play a game of trivia. My dad and I were a team and we came in second place, not too shabby.
HR continues to surprise and delight with his baby-type brand of awesomeness. For example, he hasn't seen my grandmother for over a month, but as soon as he saw her this time he started clapping because he remembered she taught him to play Patty Cake. How does that little brain work? Clearly he understands way more than I'm ready to imagine. He's still mighty tentative about walking, but I know he'll get there soon enough. And his vocabulary now includes a mangled screeching sound which I think means "meow" - he makes it when he sees a cat picture anyway. It's fairly adorable. I love to observe him when he's playing by himself, watching him move his toys around while making a little sputtering noise, oblivious to the world.
I know this is all pretty standard parental gushing, but he's my baby and I get to be smitten over and over.
On another tip, it's no secret that I've wanted to be a young adult author for as long as I can remember. I've been working on the same manuscript for years, and it's been languishing, unfinished, pretty much since I got pregnant. I was in a brief fever over it in the fall, as I tend to experience academic nostalgia that time of year, and I also got to read a finished draft of my cousin's novel which was very inspiring. Unfortunately I lacked the discipline to keep going for more than a couple of weeks. But now I'm back into it in a major way. I really want to finish this draft and just do something with it already. So I'm hoping I can keep on keep on keep on for real this time.
You know what helped me re-catch the fire? Having a husband who has gotten a taste of being a stay-at-home dad. He's constantly reminding me how great it will be when I'm published and successful and he won't even have to work nights and weekends anymore because I'll be supporting him with my big-time author income. "Do you think Judy Blume's husband is doing X right now?" he'll say, as he heads to his second shift or works into the night or heads out to shovel two feet of snow from the driveway. (Well Mr. Judy Blume probably is doing some kind of X, I believe he has a career of his own, but let's ignore that for discussion's sake).
Obviously I'm aware that 1) I'll be extremely lucky if I'm ever published at all and 2) even published authors don't make enough money to not have to supplement with other careers unless they do happen to be Rowling herself or Stephen King. But it's a joke and a dream Mike and I share, and I need the joke and the dream to keep this part of me going. And really, in my quest to emulate Judy Blume's career, why couldn't I turn out to be the next Judy Blume? Why not dream that big? I'll never know if I don't put in the work. Ah, the tricky part. I'll keep you posted.
Is it ironic that Frank Portman from MTX went on to become a young adult author, or a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
I'll Be Looking at the Moon
First things first: So You Think You Can Dance starts tonight, and this is important for me to mention because 1) it is the one of my favorite things about life, and 2) I will be writing about it a lot. I'm very opinionated about all aspects of this show - how it's structured, the contestants, the judges, all that craziness. I can be extremely critical about all of it, as well as off-the-chain, unabashedly ebullient. And since my life partner does not share my obsession, I pour it all into my blog. I promise I'll warn you in advance when I'm going to go off about it because it's mighty boring to read about, I can imagine, if you do not also enjoy updates on who should be promoted to the Hot Tamale Express (that's a joke for fans of the show - I don't like to acknowledge the HTE as a thing). The first couple of weeks are only auditions, so this'll be a pretty safe space until the competition begins, but from then on all bets are off.
Still here? Really? As this will likely be my last post of the week, I'd like to take a moment to high-five the holiday upon us here in these United States. Memorial Day is one of my all-around favorites because there's no present giving but lots of grilling, we get a day off, it's the unofficial kick-off of the summer season and most importantly, it honors those who served in the military. It always makes me think of my Pup, who, you'll know if you've met me for a minute, is my hero. So I hope you all will enjoy.
Miss you forever, dear Pup.
Still here? Really? As this will likely be my last post of the week, I'd like to take a moment to high-five the holiday upon us here in these United States. Memorial Day is one of my all-around favorites because there's no present giving but lots of grilling, we get a day off, it's the unofficial kick-off of the summer season and most importantly, it honors those who served in the military. It always makes me think of my Pup, who, you'll know if you've met me for a minute, is my hero. So I hope you all will enjoy.
Miss you forever, dear Pup.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Digital Manipulation
You know how there are songs you hear and then you wish you had never heard them because then you wouldn't feel so conflicted about liking them? But you do like them and it becomes your secret shame and you find yourself listening and maybe singing along to them in the car and never telling a living soul because if you don't admit it then it's not really true? But THEN you blab about it--and go as far to link them--on your blog in hopes that other people will come forward and you can form a shame alliance? Don't you hate when that happens? Yeah.
I don't actually believe in the notion of a "guilty pleasure" so much, because if you like something, you like it and you should stand by your preferences. Everyone else needs to back off. But then a song like "Look At Me Now" by Chris Brown and like ten other dudes comes out. I am a sucker for this song, with its inventiveness and really nasty flow. But CB is such a total shitbird I feel like a traitor to humanity for supporting him, even if it's just through my own private ears.
I suppose I can comfort myself with the notion that the vast majority of musicians are probably terrible human beings. I think that's what they call cold comfort, though.
On the less harmful tip, I am really enjoying "On the Floor" by Jennifer Lopez featuring Pit Bull. I don't want to like this because I am biased against J-Lo for no good reason. I mean, guess I get her as a dancer, but as an artist, there's not much there but machines. And she's responsible for the term J-Lo itself which just snowballed into a mountain of wrong. Still, it's just so goddamn danceable.
"Vegas to Af-REEK-a!" I like it.
I'll leave you now to pick up the pieces of my shattered image. But lest you go off with a really bad taste in your mouth:
I don't actually believe in the notion of a "guilty pleasure" so much, because if you like something, you like it and you should stand by your preferences. Everyone else needs to back off. But then a song like "Look At Me Now" by Chris Brown and like ten other dudes comes out. I am a sucker for this song, with its inventiveness and really nasty flow. But CB is such a total shitbird I feel like a traitor to humanity for supporting him, even if it's just through my own private ears.
I suppose I can comfort myself with the notion that the vast majority of musicians are probably terrible human beings. I think that's what they call cold comfort, though.
On the less harmful tip, I am really enjoying "On the Floor" by Jennifer Lopez featuring Pit Bull. I don't want to like this because I am biased against J-Lo for no good reason. I mean, guess I get her as a dancer, but as an artist, there's not much there but machines. And she's responsible for the term J-Lo itself which just snowballed into a mountain of wrong. Still, it's just so goddamn danceable.
"Vegas to Af-REEK-a!" I like it.
I'll leave you now to pick up the pieces of my shattered image. But lest you go off with a really bad taste in your mouth:
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Mushy Musing
When HR was first born, in the time that followed the explosion of manic joy that were his first few days, I had some pretty massive postpartum blues. I remember being so frustrated, and so sad, because here was this gorgeous guy, he was all I wanted for so long, and I couldn't properly enjoy being his mother because I couldn't stop crying. Luckily it went away before it became a real problem, but I'll never forget that feeling. I know it's normal for new mothers to feel that way, but I don't know if the way my thoughts came to me at the time were normal: a constant loop of sounds and phrases, a bit from a Beastie Boys song here, a movie line here, I heard them over and over again. Bizarre city. In retrospect, I'm pretty sure sleep deprivation was more to blame for that mess than the hormones. But one thing I couldn't stop hearing was Mike's voice, the way he spoke to the baby those first nights in the hospital. "You're such a good baby," he would say. "You're so cute, baby." Hushed and reverent.
I heard him saying this in my head constantly, and it made me weep with the power of how much he loved our baby already, even if he couldn't quite believe he was ours. I guess I'm thinking of this now because I'm going through another hormonal time (my body's finally back to its normal business) and over the weekend I was watching my husband dance with our baby in his arms and it knocked me right out, how lucky we both are, HR and me. It made me get misty in that familiar way, but this time I could put a name on it. Awe. Gratitude. Still a big big feeling, but it didn't swallow me up. I could just bask in it, you know? It's still scary and out of control, but that's the nature of love. I think what hit me is that it took a year but I had finally grown into the enormity of what my life had become since we got to be parents. Also: every child should have such a father, every mama should have such a partner. We're a lucky family. Yeah, that's about that.
I heard him saying this in my head constantly, and it made me weep with the power of how much he loved our baby already, even if he couldn't quite believe he was ours. I guess I'm thinking of this now because I'm going through another hormonal time (my body's finally back to its normal business) and over the weekend I was watching my husband dance with our baby in his arms and it knocked me right out, how lucky we both are, HR and me. It made me get misty in that familiar way, but this time I could put a name on it. Awe. Gratitude. Still a big big feeling, but it didn't swallow me up. I could just bask in it, you know? It's still scary and out of control, but that's the nature of love. I think what hit me is that it took a year but I had finally grown into the enormity of what my life had become since we got to be parents. Also: every child should have such a father, every mama should have such a partner. We're a lucky family. Yeah, that's about that.
Monday, May 23, 2011
I Like To Shock People With Glamour
This weekend was MUCH more like it. Lots of time out in the beautiful weather, plenty of quality Mama/Dada/baby time as well as time spent with local and visiting friends. Plus, beers al fresco and raspberry chocolate chip pancakes. It would have been a good note on which to go out, had THE RAP-CHA somehow come to pass. All the better of course that it didn't. I believe we've set the tone for the summer, even though it's back to stupid Smarch weather for the moment.
Today is significant to me because it marks 10 years since I started my first online blog. Then it was called a diary. It was anonymous, and then it got increasingly less so until I put it under lock and key and then it was time for it to be done in that incarnation. And I missed it enough to launch this guy here. The thing is, I can't overemphasize how many ways this whim of mine--this lark borne of a break from grad school when I had all this time on my hands and I felt my life needed an outlet, a little shake-up--changed me. I had no idea 1) that anyone would ever really read it; 2) that it would bring real people into my life at all, never mind that I would eventually meet so many of them and 3) that I would still be yammering about my life in a public forum all this time later. A lot has transpired over this decade, both personally and globally, and it's astounding for me to have such a record of it. So there you go.
Last night I watched Rufus! Rufus! Rufus! Does Judy! Judy! Judy!. If you are like me, I suggest you do the same. I love concert films, we've talked about my feelings for Rufus before, and I am a huge Judy Garland fan (I also have a soft spot for Liza, but it's not about her right now). The point is, I found out this DVD existed and BOOM, to the top of my Netflix queue. Had I known about the concert when it was live I probably would have found a way to get there. I'm going to link this number, not because it was my favorite from the show or even that it's a song of all songs I especially like, but it's crushing in a sweet way to see him perform with his beloved mama Kate McGarrigle who passed away not too long ago.
Work calls, but this is worth taking a moment or five.
Today is significant to me because it marks 10 years since I started my first online blog. Then it was called a diary. It was anonymous, and then it got increasingly less so until I put it under lock and key and then it was time for it to be done in that incarnation. And I missed it enough to launch this guy here. The thing is, I can't overemphasize how many ways this whim of mine--this lark borne of a break from grad school when I had all this time on my hands and I felt my life needed an outlet, a little shake-up--changed me. I had no idea 1) that anyone would ever really read it; 2) that it would bring real people into my life at all, never mind that I would eventually meet so many of them and 3) that I would still be yammering about my life in a public forum all this time later. A lot has transpired over this decade, both personally and globally, and it's astounding for me to have such a record of it. So there you go.
Last night I watched Rufus! Rufus! Rufus! Does Judy! Judy! Judy!. If you are like me, I suggest you do the same. I love concert films, we've talked about my feelings for Rufus before, and I am a huge Judy Garland fan (I also have a soft spot for Liza, but it's not about her right now). The point is, I found out this DVD existed and BOOM, to the top of my Netflix queue. Had I known about the concert when it was live I probably would have found a way to get there. I'm going to link this number, not because it was my favorite from the show or even that it's a song of all songs I especially like, but it's crushing in a sweet way to see him perform with his beloved mama Kate McGarrigle who passed away not too long ago.
Work calls, but this is worth taking a moment or five.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
All the World is Football Shaped
Last night I finally cashed in my first Mother's Day present, a massage gift certificate. I got the same thing this year - I'm sensing a tradition in the making. An excellent, Mama-pleasing tradition. Let me say that if I had the means I would get massages a lot. A lot lot. There's nothing like a really well-done massage and last night's fit my definition. A lot of deep work on my back, neck and shoulders (I like to get beat up a bit before I can relax into it, I'm a sick puppy) followed by attention to my favorite spots: sacrum, head and feet. A few years ago I was looking into training to be a massage therapist, and I still haven't abandoned the idea, but it's got to be a draining vocation. I think that to be a truly gifted masseuse you have to fall in love a little with each client, because that kind of touching is so reverent and intimate. No, not THAT kind of touch - not THAT kind of massage. Even if the after-effects of a really great massage often duplicate those of really great sex (dreamy smile, allover glow, totally messed up hair), the experience is of a different realm. I left that place with a year's worth of hunching and bending and baby hefting erased from my frame. It all came back the second I snapped HR out of his crib at 5:30 a.m., but I have another one looming in my future so how can I complain? I can't, and won't.
It's funny, I have no qualms about flinging my mostly nekkid body onto the table or having a total stranger touch me - that's the whole point, and his job besides. The thing that's challenging for me when getting a massage is to turn off my brain and not waste the hour thinking about things that aren't what's going on with my body. By the time I get the hang of it, it's already near the end and it bums me out. It shouldn't be so difficult for me to go blank, but it is. Again with the terrible problems of my life.
I haven't done an HR development update for awhile, so for fun:
-he's down to one nursing per day, and will be probably weaned in the next week or two.
-he's taken to not wanting to eat dinner, or at least any of the dinner foods he previously loved. If it's not a carb-based finger food (toast, pancakes, bananas, the occasional fruit like strawberries), he wants no part of it. I swore I'd never be this mother, but we've taken to pureeing veggies and cooking them into pancakes just so he'll get some nutrients.
-no walking yet, but I think we're close. He's gotten skittish for some reason.
-no 100% identifiable words yet, but he can point to a picture of something when you ask him to, and he says "daw" when he sees a dog. He's obsessed with dogs, so I imagine that will turn out to be his real first word.
-the kid can't get enough of books, and is now in the repetition phase where he wants the same one over and over again. I don't care how sick I get of a single book, and I don't even care that he seems to prefer crappy little throwaway books (and birthday cards and DVD cases) to books that measure up to my snobby esteem, I'm just so happy he likes books period. After all, I expect him to carry on the NERD UP! legacy.
And now for a little XTC to play us out.
It's funny, I have no qualms about flinging my mostly nekkid body onto the table or having a total stranger touch me - that's the whole point, and his job besides. The thing that's challenging for me when getting a massage is to turn off my brain and not waste the hour thinking about things that aren't what's going on with my body. By the time I get the hang of it, it's already near the end and it bums me out. It shouldn't be so difficult for me to go blank, but it is. Again with the terrible problems of my life.
I haven't done an HR development update for awhile, so for fun:
-he's down to one nursing per day, and will be probably weaned in the next week or two.
-he's taken to not wanting to eat dinner, or at least any of the dinner foods he previously loved. If it's not a carb-based finger food (toast, pancakes, bananas, the occasional fruit like strawberries), he wants no part of it. I swore I'd never be this mother, but we've taken to pureeing veggies and cooking them into pancakes just so he'll get some nutrients.
-no walking yet, but I think we're close. He's gotten skittish for some reason.
-no 100% identifiable words yet, but he can point to a picture of something when you ask him to, and he says "daw" when he sees a dog. He's obsessed with dogs, so I imagine that will turn out to be his real first word.
-the kid can't get enough of books, and is now in the repetition phase where he wants the same one over and over again. I don't care how sick I get of a single book, and I don't even care that he seems to prefer crappy little throwaway books (and birthday cards and DVD cases) to books that measure up to my snobby esteem, I'm just so happy he likes books period. After all, I expect him to carry on the NERD UP! legacy.
And now for a little XTC to play us out.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Alienate Much?
I am usually motivated by a positive mindset, but some days you can't help but be fueled by bullets of rage. It's OK every once in awhile. Sometimes it's what it takes to set change in motion. And sometimes it's just what it is. There are just two things on my angry little mind, but here they are.
1) What is it about merging lanes that makes the average person turn into a full-tilt fuckwad? Wait your turn people, it's not that hard. ARG.
2) I've got a very special bullseye for you today, Catholic church. Let me first make clear that religion is very, very personal. What people believe is none of my business, just as my spiritual life is not up for grabs. Many people I love are practicing Catholics, and I've got no beef with the Catholic faith in general. But the institution really has to go. Really guys? Really?
If the latest--and clearly unbiased--study commissioned by the Bishops of the U.S. is to be believed, the abuse of thousands and thousands of innocent people and its subsequent cover-up is basically none of the church's fault. It was the tiiimes, man. I can't decide what part of it hurts my soul the most. Maybe having the nerve to harp on the definition of the word pedophile as to whether that's an accurate term? Like that's the real problem here, or even makes a difference? Unconscionable doesn't even begin to cover it.
I feel sorry for the truly faithful who are losing their beloved parishes due to the big C's slow fade-out, it's not their fault that the people in charge have a spectacularly messed up idea of what it means to lead a flock. But I also don't understand how people just accept it. It's not like the Vatican's abuse of power in any sense is a new thing. How many times to you have to be devalued and punched in the kidneys and fed a line of hate before you stop going back and handing over your money? Honestly, how has it survived for this long? My hunch is that the ice is mighty thin, and the Vatican's about to get a shockingly cold dunking courtesy of its fed-up masses. At the very least, they'll fail to hang on to the next generation.
In conclusion, the entire elitist, papal system can go eat a bag of diseased animal wangs and die. If there's a hell and I end up going there for saying that, I'm comforted by the thought that I'll see them all there. EYEBALL LASERBEAMS.
You know what would really help to channel this mindset? A good, hard run. I haven't run in so long. I think it's time to start again.
When I used to run a lot I had this song in my ipod and every time it came on it would get me so pumped it increased my productivity by 40%, at least. The beat is great for steady hill work. Also, that reminds me, if you haven't seen Rize just do it already.
1) What is it about merging lanes that makes the average person turn into a full-tilt fuckwad? Wait your turn people, it's not that hard. ARG.
2) I've got a very special bullseye for you today, Catholic church. Let me first make clear that religion is very, very personal. What people believe is none of my business, just as my spiritual life is not up for grabs. Many people I love are practicing Catholics, and I've got no beef with the Catholic faith in general. But the institution really has to go. Really guys? Really?
If the latest--and clearly unbiased--study commissioned by the Bishops of the U.S. is to be believed, the abuse of thousands and thousands of innocent people and its subsequent cover-up is basically none of the church's fault. It was the tiiimes, man. I can't decide what part of it hurts my soul the most. Maybe having the nerve to harp on the definition of the word pedophile as to whether that's an accurate term? Like that's the real problem here, or even makes a difference? Unconscionable doesn't even begin to cover it.
I feel sorry for the truly faithful who are losing their beloved parishes due to the big C's slow fade-out, it's not their fault that the people in charge have a spectacularly messed up idea of what it means to lead a flock. But I also don't understand how people just accept it. It's not like the Vatican's abuse of power in any sense is a new thing. How many times to you have to be devalued and punched in the kidneys and fed a line of hate before you stop going back and handing over your money? Honestly, how has it survived for this long? My hunch is that the ice is mighty thin, and the Vatican's about to get a shockingly cold dunking courtesy of its fed-up masses. At the very least, they'll fail to hang on to the next generation.
In conclusion, the entire elitist, papal system can go eat a bag of diseased animal wangs and die. If there's a hell and I end up going there for saying that, I'm comforted by the thought that I'll see them all there. EYEBALL LASERBEAMS.
You know what would really help to channel this mindset? A good, hard run. I haven't run in so long. I think it's time to start again.
When I used to run a lot I had this song in my ipod and every time it came on it would get me so pumped it increased my productivity by 40%, at least. The beat is great for steady hill work. Also, that reminds me, if you haven't seen Rize just do it already.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
First World Problems
Just as "The Macarena" swept a more innocent, arguably stupider America in 1996, a stomach bug invaded our house and didn't leave until all its inhabitants were flailing with disgusting abandon. Let's just say we did a lot of baby laundry, and Mama's face is a map of broken blood vessels from forceful vomiting. Not in my top 5 weekends of all time, but happily we're all on the mend.
If you didn't think I was hot before, I have certainly got you under my spell now, eh?
Lately I've been thinking more and more about how to reconcile being a mother with being the me that is--not the me I was before the baby was born exactly, and not quite separated from my identity as a mother (not only is this not possible, but I wouldn't even want it to be)--but the me that isn't necessarily governed at every turn or defined by the fact that I have a child. It was never my intention to change appreciably when I changed my life status, I mean, I know you have to make major fundamental changes when you make room for squirts and I've made them enthusiastically. But I think about my personality and habits and wondering if I've just given up and chalked it up to motherhood. I know I just went all in without thinking in the first year, because the little dude is so needy and I couldn't bother to imagine that there was another way to do things. But now that he's gaining some independence, I have to wonder, am I a person who really wants to be in her pjs by 5 p.m. on Saturday? Have I discovered that this is really me and what I want, or is it a by-product of the way my life is since I had HR and became totally constantly exhausted? Where's the line? It's not just the pj thing, but lots of other things (like, why haven't I seen Bridesmaids yet? Why did it take me a year to use my massage gift certificate? And M Bone died before he even got to teach me how to do the Dougie! Or before I even knew there was such a thing!) that make me feel like I've been sleepwalking and it's time to wake up. How to do it is the tricky part.
I'm sure most parents, particularly mothers, have felt this way at some point, it's just my turn now. But it's still a hell of a puzzle to be putting together. How to be the best mother possible without losing myself... just another worry to add to the worries that make the days slip away. Not a big worry mind you, in the scheme of the whole world, just something with which I've been preoccupied. Starting this blog was probably the first step in the reclamation process, even if I wasn't aware of it at the time. I'm confident I'll get it all figured out soon, probably seeing too many unspeakable diapers this weekend started to wear on me.
Anyway, I have way too much work to catch up on to be navel gazing like this. Hoping you're all feeling fabulous!
If you didn't think I was hot before, I have certainly got you under my spell now, eh?
Lately I've been thinking more and more about how to reconcile being a mother with being the me that is--not the me I was before the baby was born exactly, and not quite separated from my identity as a mother (not only is this not possible, but I wouldn't even want it to be)--but the me that isn't necessarily governed at every turn or defined by the fact that I have a child. It was never my intention to change appreciably when I changed my life status, I mean, I know you have to make major fundamental changes when you make room for squirts and I've made them enthusiastically. But I think about my personality and habits and wondering if I've just given up and chalked it up to motherhood. I know I just went all in without thinking in the first year, because the little dude is so needy and I couldn't bother to imagine that there was another way to do things. But now that he's gaining some independence, I have to wonder, am I a person who really wants to be in her pjs by 5 p.m. on Saturday? Have I discovered that this is really me and what I want, or is it a by-product of the way my life is since I had HR and became totally constantly exhausted? Where's the line? It's not just the pj thing, but lots of other things (like, why haven't I seen Bridesmaids yet? Why did it take me a year to use my massage gift certificate? And M Bone died before he even got to teach me how to do the Dougie! Or before I even knew there was such a thing!) that make me feel like I've been sleepwalking and it's time to wake up. How to do it is the tricky part.
I'm sure most parents, particularly mothers, have felt this way at some point, it's just my turn now. But it's still a hell of a puzzle to be putting together. How to be the best mother possible without losing myself... just another worry to add to the worries that make the days slip away. Not a big worry mind you, in the scheme of the whole world, just something with which I've been preoccupied. Starting this blog was probably the first step in the reclamation process, even if I wasn't aware of it at the time. I'm confident I'll get it all figured out soon, probably seeing too many unspeakable diapers this weekend started to wear on me.
Anyway, I have way too much work to catch up on to be navel gazing like this. Hoping you're all feeling fabulous!
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Get Your Stroll On, Baby
It occurred to me just after I hit "publish" yesterday that it looked like I might be making some sort of announcement instead of indulging my baby-related sentimentality. Ha ha, NO. Not now, not soon, most likely not ever. Sorry if I was misleading.
Baby boy is going through an uncharacteristically whiny and clingy bit which is no fun for me or for his long-suffering Dada. I know he's hitting the normal separation anxiety phase right on schedule and we'll get through it like everything else. It's just weird to me that he doesn't have the same issue with Mike being as he's the primary caregiver four days a week. Must be all that breastfeeding bonding.
On the very positive tip: sleep. We're doing quite well here. Every night HR goes to in his crib at 7:30 and puts himself to sleep, then stays asleep (or wakes but puts himself back to sleep) until 5-ish. Sometimes 4:30, sometimes 5:30 if I'm lucky. Occasionally I can get him to go back down for an hour or two which is super awesome but I've come to accept the fact that extreme early rising is just the price we pay for consistent sleeping through the night. A price I pay gladly, I just need to keep forcing myself to be smart and get to bed by 10-10:30. This is not actually a problem as more often than not I'm passed out on the couch by 9:30, it's just making that transition from couch to bed that's the wrench in the works. Always has been - it's like no sleep is more comfy than the one you find yourself in accidentally. I'm thinking about looking into blackout drapes for the baby's room as well, but in the meantime, I need to just go to bed already.
I missed the Twilight Singers show last night 1) because I forgot to get tickets and 2) it obviously went on far longer than I'm used to being awake these days anyway. I'm a bit sad, though, that I didn't go. Let me say that Greg Dulli looks every one of his 46 years and then some, and of late has succumbed to rockstar bloat, but I'd give him the time of day, any day. Still there's no Dulli like vintage Dulli, so here y'are. (I always prefer to embed the videos but this one was disabled - trust me and follow a link. White suit!)
Happy birthday, Greg. You'll always be somethin' hot to me.
Baby boy is going through an uncharacteristically whiny and clingy bit which is no fun for me or for his long-suffering Dada. I know he's hitting the normal separation anxiety phase right on schedule and we'll get through it like everything else. It's just weird to me that he doesn't have the same issue with Mike being as he's the primary caregiver four days a week. Must be all that breastfeeding bonding.
On the very positive tip: sleep. We're doing quite well here. Every night HR goes to in his crib at 7:30 and puts himself to sleep, then stays asleep (or wakes but puts himself back to sleep) until 5-ish. Sometimes 4:30, sometimes 5:30 if I'm lucky. Occasionally I can get him to go back down for an hour or two which is super awesome but I've come to accept the fact that extreme early rising is just the price we pay for consistent sleeping through the night. A price I pay gladly, I just need to keep forcing myself to be smart and get to bed by 10-10:30. This is not actually a problem as more often than not I'm passed out on the couch by 9:30, it's just making that transition from couch to bed that's the wrench in the works. Always has been - it's like no sleep is more comfy than the one you find yourself in accidentally. I'm thinking about looking into blackout drapes for the baby's room as well, but in the meantime, I need to just go to bed already.
I missed the Twilight Singers show last night 1) because I forgot to get tickets and 2) it obviously went on far longer than I'm used to being awake these days anyway. I'm a bit sad, though, that I didn't go. Let me say that Greg Dulli looks every one of his 46 years and then some, and of late has succumbed to rockstar bloat, but I'd give him the time of day, any day. Still there's no Dulli like vintage Dulli, so here y'are. (I always prefer to embed the videos but this one was disabled - trust me and follow a link. White suit!)
Happy birthday, Greg. You'll always be somethin' hot to me.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Better Late Than Later
I had meant to post a month-by-month pictorial for HR's birthday, and then I forgot. But I still want a visual of how far we've come in a year. Here it is, a couple of weeks late.
Having it all laid out for me like this really brings it home. What a baby goes through in the first year is mindblowing. My boy was a bean, now he's a stalk, growing stronger and more independent by the day. It happened without my noticing, almost. About the first picture: I'm not gonna lie, I was in love with my pregnant belly, I was never shy about posting pictures of it. But I'm one million times more in love with what it produced.
Having it all laid out for me like this really brings it home. What a baby goes through in the first year is mindblowing. My boy was a bean, now he's a stalk, growing stronger and more independent by the day. It happened without my noticing, almost. About the first picture: I'm not gonna lie, I was in love with my pregnant belly, I was never shy about posting pictures of it. But I'm one million times more in love with what it produced.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
You're Semi-Good-Looking
So, karaoke. I love karaoke. I can trace this directly back to my history as a frustrated performer. I'm not gifted in any particular way, but I do think I could have been if I had cultivated something at an early age. I'm wicked shy, but I've never had a problem getting up in front of people and acting or singing or doing a choreographed routine. Public speaking is another thing entirely. The point is, there's always been a part of me that never stopped craving the spotlight. I often wonder why I didn't join drama in high school. It's not like I was too busy fending off my many suitors. Sometimes I think that if I had chosen to focus on that or dance or on music early in life and stuck with it, I could have had a shot at, well, something. But I didn't and here we are. I think there are a lot of people like me, which is why Rock Band was invented. And blogs too. You want someone to hear your voice? Well you got it, Missy. It's all the same pretend fantasy thing. Today I want to focus on one of the earliest and most popular sublimated superstars' outlets: karaoke.
For someone who engages in that madness less than once a year, I sure am opinionated about it. But it's a community activity, so there are lots of ways to affect other peoples' good times, and I think it's only polite to abide by some rules. Such as:
-Don't let irony guide your choices. If you pick something cheesy, embrace it. I guess, like most people, I'm offended by hipsters and their penchant for ironic karaoke selections is another way they've ruined things for everyone like cardigans and facial hair. I didn't mean for this to be a ubiquitous anti-hipster rant. Just know for quality karaoke purposes it's safest to go to a place frequented by people out of their 20s.
-Don't pick a song over four minutes long, or with prominent instrumental solos. Few people are entertaining enough to fill that space with their dancing or charisma. Respect your audience. I've always wanted to perform Journey's "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" which is a very short song, but it's got an interminable "Na na na na na na" chorus that just takes it out of the running.
-Don't be a show-off. We get that you have a very good voice. But you're boring with your note-for-note recreations. Back away from the Celine Dion, Mrs. Pipes, save that for people who are truly terrible and have fun with something else. It's OK to make mistakes. Having fun is the whole point, and striving for perfection is no fun. That's why I never, ever do it in any aspect of my life.
-Don't be afraid to rock out. I worked solely from a female artist catalog for awhile, but Carole King and Lulu didn't let me get outside of myself. Then I discovered a way to showcase my enduring love of hair metal. Def Leppard was made for karaoke - I'm thinking "Bringing on the Heartbreak" or "Photograph" - songs that really challenge your voice and make you fuck up. The audience will love you for it and sing along enthusiastically. Ratt I'm pretty sure never actually existed and hence lends itself perfectly. And Van Halen - get out of here with that Sammy Hagar, I'm talking about Van Halen with one of the world's greatest frontmen, Mr. David Lee Roth Ph. D. Esquire. There are instrumental solos in many of their songs, but they're short enough to endure.
My favorite karaoke performance to date revolves around the inspired choice of Van Halen's "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love" which is poetically gritty and allows for a lot of swagger. I sang this one night in a bar in Providence after a Ween show, when we were hanging out with members of Ween. So I guess I could have sung anything and I would have felt like a rock star, but I'm pretty sure the song made the night all me more magical.
OK, now that you've got that handy dandy guide to awesome karaoke, what's your song?
For someone who engages in that madness less than once a year, I sure am opinionated about it. But it's a community activity, so there are lots of ways to affect other peoples' good times, and I think it's only polite to abide by some rules. Such as:
-Don't let irony guide your choices. If you pick something cheesy, embrace it. I guess, like most people, I'm offended by hipsters and their penchant for ironic karaoke selections is another way they've ruined things for everyone like cardigans and facial hair. I didn't mean for this to be a ubiquitous anti-hipster rant. Just know for quality karaoke purposes it's safest to go to a place frequented by people out of their 20s.
-Don't pick a song over four minutes long, or with prominent instrumental solos. Few people are entertaining enough to fill that space with their dancing or charisma. Respect your audience. I've always wanted to perform Journey's "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" which is a very short song, but it's got an interminable "Na na na na na na" chorus that just takes it out of the running.
-Don't be a show-off. We get that you have a very good voice. But you're boring with your note-for-note recreations. Back away from the Celine Dion, Mrs. Pipes, save that for people who are truly terrible and have fun with something else. It's OK to make mistakes. Having fun is the whole point, and striving for perfection is no fun. That's why I never, ever do it in any aspect of my life.
-Don't be afraid to rock out. I worked solely from a female artist catalog for awhile, but Carole King and Lulu didn't let me get outside of myself. Then I discovered a way to showcase my enduring love of hair metal. Def Leppard was made for karaoke - I'm thinking "Bringing on the Heartbreak" or "Photograph" - songs that really challenge your voice and make you fuck up. The audience will love you for it and sing along enthusiastically. Ratt I'm pretty sure never actually existed and hence lends itself perfectly. And Van Halen - get out of here with that Sammy Hagar, I'm talking about Van Halen with one of the world's greatest frontmen, Mr. David Lee Roth Ph. D. Esquire. There are instrumental solos in many of their songs, but they're short enough to endure.
My favorite karaoke performance to date revolves around the inspired choice of Van Halen's "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love" which is poetically gritty and allows for a lot of swagger. I sang this one night in a bar in Providence after a Ween show, when we were hanging out with members of Ween. So I guess I could have sung anything and I would have felt like a rock star, but I'm pretty sure the song made the night all me more magical.
OK, now that you've got that handy dandy guide to awesome karaoke, what's your song?
Monday, May 9, 2011
I Dare You
Weekend what? I think things happened, but I don't much remember them. Hopefully the coming one will be less of a blur. Yesterday was my second Mother's Day, so you know I'm like a total pro at it now. HR and I had a day full o' togetherness, capped off with a nice pint of bitter when we went to collect Mike from work in the late afternoon. The sun shone, the Red Sox won, I got some very nice phone calls. I couldn't, and wouldn't ask for more.
And this is going to be a right MF of a workday, so I'm going to just pretend that this passes for writing and hope you'll play along. Suckers.
What I really wanted to link today was a video of my brother performing at an open mic night last night, but I lack the extreme skill it takes to accomplish such a task. Instead, a little horn for your Monday: listen to this and try not to shake your ass.
And this is going to be a right MF of a workday, so I'm going to just pretend that this passes for writing and hope you'll play along. Suckers.
What I really wanted to link today was a video of my brother performing at an open mic night last night, but I lack the extreme skill it takes to accomplish such a task. Instead, a little horn for your Monday: listen to this and try not to shake your ass.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Cinco de Drink-o
Happy Cinco de Mayo or whatever. 5/5 was HR's due date, so even though he decided to come a little early, I'll raise a toast to him. What the hell, I like tequila. Pablo actually cried last night because we didn't get him to bed fast enough. Once I lay him in his crib, he put his head down and that was that. It's amazing how much has changed in just over a week. Amazing. I never thought it was possible.
Last night we also had one of my favorite dinners: BIG SANDWICH. Whenever I think of it in my head, I see it in all caps like that because it really is a BIG SANDWICH. Mike gets a loaf of nice fresh bread, cuts it in half, and makes a comically large sandwich out of it that we share. Depending on the size of said loaf it can provide up to six meals. This time around, 1 1/2 each (I've got a bit for lunch, hooray). Tonight we're having BIG SALAD which is another favorite. We really do still cook sometimes, but I'm all for easy, no-stove, free-form dinners, especially on nights when Dada has to go to work.
Tomorrow I work from home which means I probably won't update, but I would be remiss if I didn't note that this weekend brings my beloved Pup's birthday (he would have been 87). I've never stopped missing him. I never will. And Sunday is Mother's Day, of course. This is a holiday I don't care about for myself (besides, if my lovely boy weren't gift enough, he's granted me my dearest wish of sleep) but I do feel I must give a loving shout-out to my glorious Ma, two outrageously wonderful grandmothers, and a mother-in-law who loves me like her own. Not to mention the host of friends and family who are the world to their kids, and those who are no less mothers to people despite them never having kids of their own (I'm thinking specifically of my Aunt Sue and dear Peggy).
This one's for alllll y'all.
Last night we also had one of my favorite dinners: BIG SANDWICH. Whenever I think of it in my head, I see it in all caps like that because it really is a BIG SANDWICH. Mike gets a loaf of nice fresh bread, cuts it in half, and makes a comically large sandwich out of it that we share. Depending on the size of said loaf it can provide up to six meals. This time around, 1 1/2 each (I've got a bit for lunch, hooray). Tonight we're having BIG SALAD which is another favorite. We really do still cook sometimes, but I'm all for easy, no-stove, free-form dinners, especially on nights when Dada has to go to work.
Tomorrow I work from home which means I probably won't update, but I would be remiss if I didn't note that this weekend brings my beloved Pup's birthday (he would have been 87). I've never stopped missing him. I never will. And Sunday is Mother's Day, of course. This is a holiday I don't care about for myself (besides, if my lovely boy weren't gift enough, he's granted me my dearest wish of sleep) but I do feel I must give a loving shout-out to my glorious Ma, two outrageously wonderful grandmothers, and a mother-in-law who loves me like her own. Not to mention the host of friends and family who are the world to their kids, and those who are no less mothers to people despite them never having kids of their own (I'm thinking specifically of my Aunt Sue and dear Peggy).
This one's for alllll y'all.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Cue: Hallelujah Chorus
So HR slept through the night. No big thang.
!!!!!!
Clearly it's the biggest thing in the world. Last night was a mega-breakthrough - not only did he lay himself down in his crib with nary a whimper at bedtime, but he didn't make a peep until after 5 a.m. I know that's super early, but whatever. After a little morning nursing, he went back down until after 7. If this is as good as it gets, I can happily live with it. But there's no reason to believe it won't get even more awesome. Of course I know better than to think that one night means this is how it will be forever more, but it's a sign people. A sign that reads: "We All Gon' Get Some Sleep Up In Herrre." No really, I'm putting that on a poster and hanging it in his room. Mike especially will love that.
I did some yoga last night after I put the baby to bed, just a gentle 20 minute practice, but I have been seriously neglecting my mental and physical well-being as a by-product of my fatigue and this is my way of reclaiming it. I know I should have been doing it all along, it would have been more helpful than wine and TV therapy, but knowing and doing are two things. I'll still engage in the more fun things of course, but unless you have been through this you can't understand how freeing it is to be able to count on some nighttime predictability and what it means for the quality of your life. More yoga for mama! Then maybe even some running (or any activity that will help get rid of the sad face that is my midsection)? I have a huge list I've been compiling of things like that, things I used to do and enjoy that I might get back to once I'm not so dang tired, like returning to regular platelet donations. To have the prospect of checking off items on that list is like winning the lottery. I know, the first world tribulations of the parent of a healthy, happy baby. Acknowledging that doesn't do a thing to dampen my glee at the latest development.
Our passive/aggressively nice neighbor brought us a bunch of lilacs from her bushes last night and now my house smells of every wonderful springtime association, of rebirth and of sexy and of fleeting and of purple, but not too purple. Whatever the best smell is to you, that's it to me. It's all coming together, people.
!!!!!!
Clearly it's the biggest thing in the world. Last night was a mega-breakthrough - not only did he lay himself down in his crib with nary a whimper at bedtime, but he didn't make a peep until after 5 a.m. I know that's super early, but whatever. After a little morning nursing, he went back down until after 7. If this is as good as it gets, I can happily live with it. But there's no reason to believe it won't get even more awesome. Of course I know better than to think that one night means this is how it will be forever more, but it's a sign people. A sign that reads: "We All Gon' Get Some Sleep Up In Herrre." No really, I'm putting that on a poster and hanging it in his room. Mike especially will love that.
I did some yoga last night after I put the baby to bed, just a gentle 20 minute practice, but I have been seriously neglecting my mental and physical well-being as a by-product of my fatigue and this is my way of reclaiming it. I know I should have been doing it all along, it would have been more helpful than wine and TV therapy, but knowing and doing are two things. I'll still engage in the more fun things of course, but unless you have been through this you can't understand how freeing it is to be able to count on some nighttime predictability and what it means for the quality of your life. More yoga for mama! Then maybe even some running (or any activity that will help get rid of the sad face that is my midsection)? I have a huge list I've been compiling of things like that, things I used to do and enjoy that I might get back to once I'm not so dang tired, like returning to regular platelet donations. To have the prospect of checking off items on that list is like winning the lottery. I know, the first world tribulations of the parent of a healthy, happy baby. Acknowledging that doesn't do a thing to dampen my glee at the latest development.
Our passive/aggressively nice neighbor brought us a bunch of lilacs from her bushes last night and now my house smells of every wonderful springtime association, of rebirth and of sexy and of fleeting and of purple, but not too purple. Whatever the best smell is to you, that's it to me. It's all coming together, people.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
My New Motto is Embedded in Here...
We still haven't achieved all-the-way-through-the-night sleep, but the events of last night made me dare to hope for its appearance on the horizon. I haven't allowed myself to even entertain that kind of hope for so long because it was just getting demoralizing. But we're getting a little closer with every night. And considering a new tooth has come through in the midst of the training, I'd say the little champ deserves a reward beyond a good night's sleep for its own sake. Maybe we'll finally buy his birthday present. We are planning to get him a kitchen set, so as soon as we build on that extra wing onto our house for baby stuff, we'll get right on that. Good thing he doesn't know how to mark time yet, I guess.
I have a lot of work I need to get done before an evening meeting, so here's a Great/Awesome/Happy blitz:
-E. Lockhart - you should read all her books if you haven't. I just finished Real Live Boyfriends and I miss Ruby Oliver already.
-Stewart O'Nan - I started Wish You Were Here right after I finished the Lockhart book. His Last Night at the Lobster is a masterpiece. He's probably my favorite current author.
-Cupcakes - even when they stop being trendy they'll still be what they are: tiny cakes that exist to give you a jolt of sugary sunshine (even when you're supposed to be cutting the sugar now that you're not burning all those milk-making calories). Fuck it. Cupcakes!
-Massages, for real. I am sitting on a certificate for a massage from last Mother's Day. Time to dust that puppy off and spend it up, methinks.
-This clip from Glee, because though I openly criticize the show, it still usually finds a way to make me smile. Did you spot Legacy from So You Think You Can Dance? How he didn't get a solo in this number was baffling, but it's good to see him getting work.
BARBRA STREISAND!
I have a lot of work I need to get done before an evening meeting, so here's a Great/Awesome/Happy blitz:
-E. Lockhart - you should read all her books if you haven't. I just finished Real Live Boyfriends and I miss Ruby Oliver already.
-Stewart O'Nan - I started Wish You Were Here right after I finished the Lockhart book. His Last Night at the Lobster is a masterpiece. He's probably my favorite current author.
-Cupcakes - even when they stop being trendy they'll still be what they are: tiny cakes that exist to give you a jolt of sugary sunshine (even when you're supposed to be cutting the sugar now that you're not burning all those milk-making calories). Fuck it. Cupcakes!
-Massages, for real. I am sitting on a certificate for a massage from last Mother's Day. Time to dust that puppy off and spend it up, methinks.
-This clip from Glee, because though I openly criticize the show, it still usually finds a way to make me smile. Did you spot Legacy from So You Think You Can Dance? How he didn't get a solo in this number was baffling, but it's good to see him getting work.
BARBRA STREISAND!
Monday, May 2, 2011
A Ball of Confusion
Oh my what a weekend! Friday was the most perfect day, Mike declared it a "Ferris Bueller" kind of day, and while I didn't exactly play hooky, I didn't get a lot of work done. HR had his one year check-up and was declared best baby ever. Well not exactly in those words, but he's one healthy little monkey and our pediatrician was great as always. We talked with him about the merits of our different farm shares, which I guess officially makes us yuppie parents. After our appointment we went out for a long lunch and sat outside. Our little adventure eater can now add french fries to the table food he's tried and enjoyed. Now that he has almost four teeth, he seems to have developed a rather refined palate and it warms my heart to see him taking pleasure in flavors and textures. For breakfast we often share toast spread with avocado. He loved cheese ravioli on Easter. And the list of "sometimes" foods he goes wild for (ice cream, pancakes, cookies) grows every day.
Saturday we attended a charity walk and got to bop around gorgeous surroundings in beautiful weather. Spring in New England, there's really nothing more glorious. It almost makes the winters worth it. Almost.
As for the sleeping, well, after Thursday--which was by far the worst night so far in the experiment--he's consistently put himself to sleep every night. There are a few tears, but nothing major. He's really getting the hang of it. And I've watched him wake up and put himself back to sleep on the monitor. We're still plagued with the 3:30 a.m. extended wake-up, but I'm giving that one more week to see if it resolves itself before we start the middle-of-the-night sleep training. The progress, I have to say, is remarkable and undeniable.
I celebrated with back-to-back episodes AMC's The Killing, which is my new addiction. So good. And I'm also psyched now that Treme is back. It gives me a funny, full-circle feeling to watch it while the baby is in his crib asleep because I remember it started last year around the time he was born and I used to watch it during the endless feedings or when I held him as he slept because it was the only way he would sleep back then. It reminds me that even with the current frustrations, we've come so, so far. And Treme is worth it for the music alone.
Oh yeah and then that Osama Bin Laden thing happened. It's not like I don't have an opinion - I won't miss him. He was a hate-filled person who lived to cause suffering, and I can't get behind that. That won't have died with him, unfortunately. It will most likely only inspire further acts of violence in his name, it's the oldest of stories. Philosophically I have issues with revenge and eye-for-an-eye justice. But it's done, and if it brings people peace, please let it.
This is in no way disparaging to our country's military, I am grateful for them every day. And I'm not naive. It's just that in my heart, even though I know it's not the way the world works, I will never give up on peace and love, of taking care of one another instead of fighting.
Saturday we attended a charity walk and got to bop around gorgeous surroundings in beautiful weather. Spring in New England, there's really nothing more glorious. It almost makes the winters worth it. Almost.
As for the sleeping, well, after Thursday--which was by far the worst night so far in the experiment--he's consistently put himself to sleep every night. There are a few tears, but nothing major. He's really getting the hang of it. And I've watched him wake up and put himself back to sleep on the monitor. We're still plagued with the 3:30 a.m. extended wake-up, but I'm giving that one more week to see if it resolves itself before we start the middle-of-the-night sleep training. The progress, I have to say, is remarkable and undeniable.
I celebrated with back-to-back episodes AMC's The Killing, which is my new addiction. So good. And I'm also psyched now that Treme is back. It gives me a funny, full-circle feeling to watch it while the baby is in his crib asleep because I remember it started last year around the time he was born and I used to watch it during the endless feedings or when I held him as he slept because it was the only way he would sleep back then. It reminds me that even with the current frustrations, we've come so, so far. And Treme is worth it for the music alone.
Oh yeah and then that Osama Bin Laden thing happened. It's not like I don't have an opinion - I won't miss him. He was a hate-filled person who lived to cause suffering, and I can't get behind that. That won't have died with him, unfortunately. It will most likely only inspire further acts of violence in his name, it's the oldest of stories. Philosophically I have issues with revenge and eye-for-an-eye justice. But it's done, and if it brings people peace, please let it.
This is in no way disparaging to our country's military, I am grateful for them every day. And I'm not naive. It's just that in my heart, even though I know it's not the way the world works, I will never give up on peace and love, of taking care of one another instead of fighting.
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