Holiday Happenings

Woah, Things have been a little text heavy around here for the last couple of days.  And there is an important post to be written about pants (which will seem totally crazy unless you are mormon--and even then it might seem totally crazy) but let's save those deep thoughts for another day. 

Fair warning that there are going to be lots of pictures of my kids in the next little minute and you're going to be tempted to think that I am a better mom than I am.  

Do you ever read mommy blogs and think, "who is this woman?"  I do.  In blogs art projects seem more amazing than they are and every mother is perfectly patient and spends 3-4 hours a day spending individual time with her kids--playing meaningfully.  Just so that you know who you are dealing with, I do not.  These pictures are all of fun things we've done recently but really, most days the hubbs comes home to a house that looks like a tornado hit and with a look of panic in my eyes I hand him the baby.  Last night we were having friends to dinner and 30 minutes before they were to arrive Claire woke up Noah and he cried for the next 30 min.  The hubbs arrived 10 minutes before they did and I handed him the baby and said, "give him a bath." When he suggested that maybe he should straighten up I said, "No. What I need you to do is bath the baby."  

my tone wasn't particularly friendly.

Just so we're perfectly clear.

Noah's favorite game is one where we give one of his cheeks several kisses in a row.  He sequeels with delight and turns toward you.  You then switch over and kiss the other cheek.  This game is fraught with danger as it is often very slobbery and sometimes you get spit-up on.  Totally worth it.

Totally secure in his masculinity.  We borrowed a couple of baby jump suites from a dear friend who has a little girl.  This is the least girly of the two.

Last week we make cookies with friends.  Totally unsanitary and totally delicious.  At one point Claire was eating sprinkles out of a bowl with her tongue.

Oh yes we did this.  The REAL Santa Claus at THE Macy's. 

This is Claire crying while she sits next to the man himself. 30 min of waiting in line, 3 minutes  with the big man and tears.  To hear her tell the story is hilarious because she'll be the first to admit that she does not like Santa and he makes her cry.

There are actually 3 family members in this picture.  I don't know if you can see that Claire has baby Dora tucked under her arm.  She takes her everywhere.

At the Rockafeller Center.  Dora is riding in her baby carrier

Walking in the city with Claire is a total joy.  She dances and sings the WHOLE time.

Riding the train with these two isn't too bad either

And last but not least is the craziest house I have ever seen.  It's like Liberace owns a house in the Bronx.  I can't even explain it to you and pictures don't do it justice but there are tons of animatronic doll, really loud music and the house is bright pink.  His neighbors must hate them

An Announcement

It's been a big week at our house.  Last Tuesday we welcomed baby Noah into the world and it has been so fun.  I will tell you that even though my patience is wearing thin (the 4 hours of straight sleep I got last night seems to have helped with that--a fluke at this stage of the game but I will take it) being a mom for the second time around it so much better than the first time. I'll have to dedicate an entire post to how the second time around things go a little smoother (though not breast feeding if you're wondering.  I'd still be slaughtered if I were a milk cow) and you don't worry so much. But that's not what this post is about.  This post is about something different altogether.

Last Monday we made a pretty big decision about our lives too.

The hubbs got a new job.  It's an incredible opportunity and both of us feel like this is a job that will change the path of his career (in the best kind of way.)  The only trouble with the job is that it's in New York City.  And when I say New York City I mean like around the corner from Grand Central Station Manhattan.

And we've taken it.

He starts at the end of next month.  The kids and I will follow him to New York after the moving truck arrives with our things.  While we wait for the truck we'll stay at grandma's house in Salt Lake.

I am a little sick about it.  I haven't really told anyone that we're moving because saying it out loud makes it real. My heart hurts thinking about leaving San Diego.  We have loved it here.  We have great friends, we get to go to the beach once a week, there are only like 5 days a year when we can't go outside and when it hits 55 degrees here people get out their ski jackets--those are my kind of people.

So I guess this is the official announcement.  We're moving to New York City (a place I've never even really been other than the airport and a hotel near the airport).  Though, truth be told we're probably not moving to New York City.  As much as I wish I could say that we were island people (or even a specific borough kind of people) I'm pretty sure that we're suburb people.

Do you remember the book Fredrick by Leo Lionni? (if you don't you should read it right this second but it's about a mouse who doesn't do any of the work to collect food for the winter.  He spends his time collecting sunshine and colors and when the nights get long and the food gets scarce he is the one who gives the other mice hope so they can make it through the winter)

For the next 4 weeks I am going to spend my time gathering sunshine and sand and surf and trips to the zoo and time at the pool and time with my girlfriends for the long, long move and the cold winter that is ahead.

A weekend pick me up

You know what is not hot?
Maternity underwear

If you happen to also be wearing compression pantyhose because if you don't by the end of the day your ankles are like large sausages.  Dang

Now, add to that glorious image the fact that you are having so much back pain that you're plastered in icy-hot patches and leave a lingering scent of menthol when you leave the room.

And if you also happen to be having heart burn severe enough to necessitate carrying around a bottle of tums with you.  Man. Oh. Man.

You know what that is?

100% not hot.

It's a good thing the hubbs loves me and he loves babies and kids because nothing says "Friday Night" like a little o' that.

Dang

That was my little weekend gift to you--a reminder that no matter how you are feeling about yourself and your body it could always be worse.

Ain't Nothin' Like the First Time

That your mom buys a bag of Doritos* and lets you go to town.

*In all honesty they were the Trader Joes version of Doritos and they're just not as good.  Something about no artificial colors or flavors and the lack of high fructose corn syrup.


**Can we please blame the fact that I am buying bags of Doritos on pregnancy? The checker at Trader Joes looked at my cart on Friday and said, "Snack Attack?"  It was a little embarrassing.

Is this the life for me?

I'm not sure this whole blogging life is for me.  I've been doing it for  more than a year now.  When I started out I was looking for a way to write and document our life. I wanted some kind of creative outlet that wasn't cooking or crafting. It was also a convenient way to keep up with family and friends who live a long way away.  But really.

I'm just not sure that blogging about this little family is making any difference.  So maybe Auden was right and "poetry makes nothing happen."  Does writing about my little life with the hubbs and Claire really make a difference?

I just don't know if I can do it anymore.  Sometimes it feels like this is a job and I struggle thinking of interesting content which is genuine and honest and a little funny.

But I think I have a solution.  I'm thinking instead of this being a blog about my life with the hubs and our darling little girl that in late August we should make this blog about my little life with the hubbs and our darling little girl and our new baby.

Is that going to work?

And in case you are wondering if I am one of those people who gracefully gets pregnant and has a cute little pregnant belly, I am not.  I have had it verified from 2 complete strangers that even at 8 months pregnant I don't look pregnant but rather like I'm getting really fat. I know....you can hardly wait for the pictures.  I've already outgrown all of my normal pants and I'm a full belt hole past normal.

Dear Hubbs

Dear Hubbs,
At our wedding Frances read this:

"The folks have been here today, but have gone to their homes.  The clatter of racing feet, the laughter and babble of tongues have ceased.  We are alone, we two.  We two whom destiny has made one.  Long ago, it has been sixty years since we met under the June trees.  I kissed you first.  How shy and afraid was your girlhood.  Not any woman on earth or in heaven could be to me what you are.  I would rather you were here, woman, with your gray hair, than any fresh blossom of youth.  Where you are is home.  Where you are not is homesickness.  As I look at you I realize that there is something greater than love, although love is the greatest thing on earth.  It is loyalty.  For were I driven away in shame, you would follow.  If I were burning with fever, your cool hand would soothe me.  With your hand in mine, may I pass and take my place among the saved of heaven.   --Josh Haslem Clark"

I repeat it today and say that I love you and your loyalty.  Where you are, is home.  Where you are not is homesickness.

Loves,
S

PS. I am sorry that tonight will not be very romantic and that you will find Claire and I laid out on the couch watching TV when you come home.  I didn't even know that the dentist could cauterize your gums.  Turns out he can.  And it's outrageously painful.

Public Apology

Several months ago we had Claire nearly weaned from her pacifier.  She knew that she only got to have it in bed and when she woke up in the morning she would had it over to us to put away in the cupboard until we needed it at nap time again.  I was proud.  And maybe a little self-righteous when I dropped her off at the babysitter and said, "there's a pass in her bag if there's an emergency but we're really trying to wean her from it."

So.  A couple of teeth, a Christmas holiday, 3 trips to Utah later and would you like to know how we're doing with "weaning" her from the pass?

Great.  Thanks for asking.

You can count on Grandpa

Yesterday Claire was running from the kitchen to the TV room (an activity she loves at my parent's house where there is so much more space than there is in our tiny apartment).  After several runs back and forth and back and forth she stayed in the TV room.  My mom and I were cooking and we could hear her chatting away with Grandpa.  Claire was conversing by mixing the few words we can understand with her near perfect impression of conversation's inflection.  Grandpa was talking in an animated voice and I thought maybe he was reading her a story when I overheard......

"Well, the next thing you know Ol' Jed's a millionaire.  Kinfolk said, 'Jed move away from there.' Said, 'Californey is the place you otta be.' So they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly."

I tell her stories about three little pigs or a girl named Cinderella and Grandpa tackles the tough stories of families striking it rich and trying to fit in in new situations.

I guess it really does take a village

When you picture Christmas this year...

Christmas eve at my parent's house has always been a musical affair.  After dinner my mother moves to the piano and the box full of jingle bells, tambourines, castanets and other clanky noise makers is passed around and we sing Christmas carols.  A couple of years ago my mom bought us all felt reindeer antlers to wear while we were singing.  Luckily, right in the middle of our celebration our friend, Tien (who is from Vietnam and understood only enough of Christmas to know that it would be important to us), came by with a gift.  My mother was thrilled.  She handed over her own reindeer antlers and a set of jingle bells.  Tien left in a hurry after a couple of songs that he had never heard before (I guess Joy to the World isn't big in non-Christian households) and has never since made the mistake of stopping by on Christmas eve.

The two grandchildren who will be attending Christmas eve at my parent's house this year are aged 1.5 and 2.5.  They are great friends and great enemies all at the same time.  For just an instant we thought about doing the nativity scene with the two of them.  Two Marys, two baby Jesuses, parents running interference but we quickly came to our senses and decided that a puppet show would be a better option.

We're using this printable (which I clearly stole.  From here) and during the course of the evening we'll be cutting out the puppets and sticking them to straws which people can hold or which we'll put into a flower pot filled with rice.

If you are interested in puppeteering we are still accepting applications though you are going up against a little girl who walks around the house pointing at everything and yelling, 'MINE" (I am actually considering making two sets just to avoid confrontation).   You can also feel free to just stop by.  Maybe there will be a set of reindeer antlers and some jingle bells in it for you.

Ignorance is Bliss

It's a good thing that the vast majority of my siblings refuse to read this blog because I just stumbled across the perfect Christmas gift for my sister and I am 90% sure that all of you are going to want to buy the exact same thing for your sister (unless you come from the kind of home that gives useful, appropriate gifts for Christmas in which case you will think this is crazy.  I come from a family where the greatest gift in memory is a pair of boxing nuns that our Uncle Dick sent from Chicago when I was 10.  This gift just might push Uncle Dick out of 1st place)

Behold The Sweater Boys Calendar

Men in hilariously awful sweaters striking sexy poses.

Sign. Me. Up.

You can order it here.
And all the proceeds go to help the people of Vietnam so you don't need to feel bad about ordering lots.

********

I am not the kind of blogger that posts every day and I don't feel the need to apologize or explain my absences but I just wanted to let you know that the reason I wasn't here yesterday is because these thighs were visiting.

Ahhhh how could I even tear myself away for one second to sit at the computer while those chunky things were kicking and cooing?  Not possible.

Life moves pretty fast.....

This weekend we went on our neighborhood campout.  We had a wonderful time.  Claire fell down the cement stairs and bit a glow bracelet hard enough to break it in her mouth.  Turns out the glowy stuff doesn't taste very good.

In Laws

            My in-laws were here this weekend.  We crammed 5 adults and 3 kids into our little apartment.  Quarters were pretty tight but we had a great time.  Claire is absolutely in love with her 5-year old cousin J.  He loves her too (but not as much as he loves legos).  He spent lots of time jumping on the bed with her and carrying her around in that awkward child-carrying-a-child pose.  She got rough-housed, chased, poked in the face, kissed until she cried and she loved every single second of it.  We spent lots of time in swim suits and I still have at least two loads of towels to wash.  All in all, a totally successful weekend.

One of the best lines of the trip came from our Uncle K.  We were out to dinner after a ferry ride from Coronado and a walk down the embarcadoro.  Claire had fallen down 2 cement stairs (uninjured but mad) just moments before and J bit his cheek while he was eating so hard that he started to cry.  K (who is not married and doesn't have kids) said, "Is this the normal rate of injury with children?  Because really, I go weeks and weeks without any kind of injury or tears."  We assured him that considering the parent to child ratio and the fact that one of the children is a toddler and still regularly trips over her own feet we were actually doing pretty well.


Hurry back dear ones.  Claire is ready for the beach again whenever you are. (this is how she woke up this morning--actually that's not true.  She woke up crying because one of her sand sifters had fallen on the floor.  This is her after I handed it back.)

I just found your new favorite workout song

Yesterday at a new weightlifting class my short, totally ripped, gay instructor who was wearing patterned converse played this song.  Twice.

I can't get it to embed here but here is a link to go and listen.

Dear Beyonce, Thank you for being so awesome.

I have been playing it ever since.

I played it this morning while I was doing the dishes and Claire was eating her breakfast (Cheese and cheerios.  We eat cheese at every meal these days) and right when it came on she started bopping her little head around and laughing. 

It reminded me of an important point in my relationships with the hubbs.  We had been dating for a while and were talking about getting married but neither one of us was sure.  The hubbs and I are really different and I think we worried that neither one of us was what the other had anticipated.

We had gone to visit his family in Oregon. I had been praying about us getting married and trying to make a good decision.  One night we were doing the dishes after dinner (the hubbs didn't grow up with a dishwasher so when I say we were doing the dishes we were really doing the dishes).  The hubbs started singing and dancing around as he was drying the dishes and the thought came to me, "This could be a happy life."

I am so glad that I listed to that voice and let it grow in me. 

It has indeed been a very happy life.

When You've Got it, You've Got it

While I was home I spent some time working in my dad's office. For his birthday this year I changed some of his old LPs to MP3s.  While I was digging through his things (a girl has to do something while waiting for those files to convert). I found this picture of my older sister, my dad and me.

I love everything about it. I love the smiles, the attitude, the clothes (look at those socks with the hearts on them), the hair....but mostly I just love the people (and the pizazzy Tyra pose I'm striking).   

Sometimes I long for a time when I was that self confident and assured while picture taking.  These days I tend to spend my time taking pictures worrying that my tummy looks big or my hair looks frizzy.  I'd like to take a lesson from my 4-year-old self--just throw out your hips and stare down the camera and everything else will work out fine. 

*Also, if any of you are still getting a malware warning please let me know.  I think I took care of the problem but my computer skills are so basic that I can never be sure.

If you're trying to impress the hubbs....

I've mentioned before that the hubbs doesn't like celebrating.  I mentioned this to a couple of friends who were over and the hubbs said, "I believe in giving Christmas gifts."

If it were up to him that would be the extent of present-giving in our house.  There would be no house decorating and "made-up" holidays like Valentines and Mother's day would be totally ignored. That being said, it's not like the hubbs is a party-pooper.  He loves traditions.  He loves telling us about what they did when he was a kid and he always wants to recreate those experiences. During Christmas his family always made these gluten-free cookies and treats (his grandma has celiacs) and he always wants to bake those with  us at Christmas.

So when preparing a celebration for Father's Day I have to be careful.  I need to remember that it's about tradition and then he'll like it more.

I've also been struggling with this one little thing (and if any of you have advice I would love to get it). But I don't make my own money anymore.  It feels funny buying a present for the hubbs with money that he made when he would rather just save the money (it also feels funny buying clothes for me and other expendable items when I feel like the money isn't mine--really, advice anyone?).  It's just a little tricky.  I'm still adjusting to not having money of my own anymore. (and just to be perfectly clear this has nothing to do with the hubbs he is generous and does not begrudge me staying home)

The hubbs grew up in Oregon and he remembers summers spent picking blueberries and strawberries. A couple of weeks ago he was telling Claire and me about the day they went to pick strawberries and how it was one of the best days of the whole summer and how they all made themselves sick eating strawberries then they spent the afternoon making jam.

To start off Father's Day 2011 weekend we went on a family date to pick strawberries.  This is a little different from Oregon in the 80's--it was WAY more expensive than buying strawberries from Costco but more sunny and we did follow family tradition and ate so much that we got sick.

Saturday night Claire and I worked on a card for the hubbs with some friends who came over.

Then on Sunday we presented the hubbs with his gift and card. He got some strange soda from the local Bev-Mo (the hubbs likes non-cola soda but I never buy it).  The plan was for Claire to take the hubbs a bottle of grapefruit soda (the flavor that the hubbs used to drink with his dad) with a card that said "Thank you for sharing the things that you loved to do with your family."  Then she was going to take out a six-pack of other flavors with a card that said, "and thank you for trying new things with me too."

It didn't work out exactly as planned but the hubbs got the general idea and he got the soda. 

Father's Day success

What better way to celebrate 100 blog posts?

That's right people--100 blog posts.  I feel like we should have a party.  Maybe we will.

What better way to celebrate than to tell you about one of the many reasons that I love the hubbs.

On Monday I got an email from the hubbs titled, "Do I need a makeover?" The content of the email was a casting call for the local TV station looking for dads who needed a makeover for their annual father's day makeover show. I love a good makeover, I love watching them and for a moment I considered nominating him (just to indulge my makeover love).

At dinner he asked me if I had gotten his email. I smiled and told him that I had but that I didn't think he needed a makeover.  Now that the hubbs has realized that he does not wear an XL or XXL (the hubbs is 6'4" and wears a 34x34 pant--it has taken some months to convince him that this qualifies him as a large at the biggest) he's a great dresser.  No makeover needed here.....

 We'll take him just the way he is.