Doldrums

It seems to be going 'round the internet--no one is in the mood to post. Well, me neither. But in the interest of being a whiney brat, I do have some excuses. OK, way too many excuses. So, in no particular order...

*One week from tomorrow Rowan and I are flying to the Bahamas for my sister's and Josh's wedding. Been busy buying and gathering stuff for that. I have my dress, it's altered, got the Super Sucker 3000 to wear under it, got jewelry, shoes, wrap, etc. Rowan has 2 bikinis. (I am looking forward to the ritual putting away of the summer clothes when we return--my closet is stuffed and I still have nothing to wear!) I wonder if they'll have Jerk Turkey or something.

*I made 88 of Judeen's Norwegian Meatballs (my Mom's recipe--the best!) and froze them in preparation for the holidays. Didn't sample one, so I hope they don't suck. Haven't had the Lefse Weekend yet, but I'm thinking about it. Need recruits.

*We got our PA drivers' licenses and license plates. And it was a huge saga. Took 6 trips. (Really.) Needed every sort of documentation you could imagine, in duplicate (and a few they forgot to tell us about.) Plus, they're closed on Columbus Day. Columbus Day. AND the 2 days before. You know, because it's such a major holiday. I commented that it was as bad as French bureaucracy. Dr. B said, "No wonder. The government in Pennsylvania is actually older than that of France." He's right. (To be fair, the guy behind the counter here was nicer than the ones in France. And he never said, "It's not possible! It's not possible!" and then wasted 20 minutes of our time flirting with his coworkers after showing up 1/2 an hour late, like the french bureaucrat did.)

*Started to think about what we're doing for Xmas. More on that later.

*Organized Rowan's room so when she grows out of stuff I have 4 boxes on the floor of her closet to drop the too tiny togs into. (Mine, Sam's, Angie's, Christine's.) Thank God for hand-me-downs.

*Stripped, sanded and primed her high chair. Need to touch up the primer (and do the top of the tray) and then paint it. It's going to be "Apple A Day" red.

*Got Rowan's dress for the wedding. Made family and friends trek all over looking for another size of the same dress (they were out here) for the reception in April. (The bride found it in Minneapolis.) Her dress matches mine and the bride's. And I found it at Walmart, of all places. But hey--2 $14 dresses is better than one for 70 bucks at Macy's. And I know she'll have one that fits for the celebration in the Twin Cities. And it's not like anyone will care if it's not silk. She's just going to drool on it.

*Took Lucy for a short walk with Rowan in the Baby Bjorn on Tuesday night when Jeff was out of town. It started pouring. Like BUCKETS. Then I dropped my keys and couldn't find them. (I think Rowan kicked them out of my pocket.) Panic ensued, I cried, it was dark, we were wet and cold, Rowan fell asleep, I worried she had hypothermia, but I finally found them. It was more traumatic than it sounds, really. So we were all in our jammies by 6. And Lucy rubbed wet dog all over the couches.

*My migraines are back. Damn it. Insomnia, too. Fun fun!

*Our friends are coming for a week to visit us! We are so excited. I'm thinking outlet malls, fondue bourguignonne, Tarot games and yarn stores. Can't wait!!! (And she's bringing goodies...)

*Sat choosing paint colors for the stupid greeney-yellow kitchen ("pineapple mousse"--yuck.) with Dr. B. He's really stubborn. We're compromising by letting him choose. (I guess that's because he gave up on I won the picture hanging argument.) I hope we get this done by the time A, J and M get here.

*I'm on steroids. Random rash, stupid sensitive skin. (Seriously. Don't even have a clue what this one is from. I'm allergic to just about everything. Including gold. Who's allergic to gold????)

*Decided I have a love/hate relationship with our local grocery emporium, Wegman's. Love the huge selection, wonderful pre-made meals, fantastic meat/fish department, decent (for an American grocery store) bakery and patisserie, to-die-for cheese counter, good produce, store brand that tastes better than the commercial brands (really--they even make low fat ice cream that's better than Ben and Jerry's, and super cheap), and new and wonderful things (including a lot from local farmers) every time I go, etc. Hate the fact that I rarely get out of there for under 100 bucks, sometimes 200. (Not that it's expensive--there's just so much good stuff! Good thing I'm breast feeding, or I'd be seriously fat.) Hate that they don't have Tony Chachere's Original Creole Seasoning (and I'm out.) And that no one else in town does either. Zatarain's just isn't the same.

*Perpetually sweeping and vacuuming up leaves. By the boatload. Because the way our townhouses are designed, they fly into the kitchen every time the door is opened. Then they fly into the living room. Then the dog lays on them and they stick to her fur and she drags them upstairs. Really irritating.

*Wondering where to buy decent baby tights. The cheap ones don't have articulated feet (they're like tube socks, so they have way too much fabric at the ankles) and Macy's doesn't sell tights any more. Anyone?

*Preparing to buy velcro to stick Rowan's shoes to her tights and inside her shoes so they stay on during pictures. She can get them off in 13 seconds flat, so I hope this works.

*Trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to get me, the baby, and all her crap to the Bahamas. I think I need a truck for inside the airport. Do they sell diapers in paradise?

*Watching Rowan's new thing--scritch scritch scritch. She scratches at everything with her fingernails. And she can put her feet in her mouth, and does pretty much every time you take her diaper off. (Yeah, she inherited my bendiness.)

*Speaking of bendiness, I'm wishing for a yoga studio that has child care. Or that Dr. B would come home early one night a week so I could go. HINT.

*Made a hair appointment for a cut and highlights. Hoping this woman is better than the last one. I look like Dorothy Hamill right now. It's bad.

*Made a doctor's appointment so I don't have to go to the ER every time I get a rash or an ingrown toenail. And so I don't have to call my doctor friends and beg for advice on a Sunday night when I get a migraine. Said doctor friend even drove to her office to double check in her book for me. Now that's a good friend. Thanks, Brenda!!! (Snaps to Brenda) Note: here it's really weird. You just pick a random doctor and call them. No hoops, no hierarchies, no special numbers to call. It was so freeing, I was completely at a loss. Couldn't do it. Finally, I got a recommendation. She was booked, but a colleague had an opening. I hope I like her.

*Wasting my time on Facebook. Because getting to the next level in Vampires, Slayers, Zombies and Werewolves is really that important. (I am a Zombie Ninja right now.) And arguing about whether "de" is a valid Scrabulous word. And throwing turkeys at people. Heh.

*Wasting more time writing long, boring blog posts that no one really wants to read because I'm just whining. And wondering why the Brits spell whining with a spare 'g', like this: "whingeing". Looks like "Hwin-Jing" to me. I guess it is "hwinjing". I just learned a new word! But I really don't think I could use it in conversation and keep a straight face. And frankly, I'm not sure I know how to whinge, anyway. I think it might have something to do with plumbing.

*Watching The Flight of the Conchords on YouTube. They just tickle my funny bone. (The most beautiful girl... with a kebab.) Enjoy.



*Watching Dancing with the Stars on ABC.com. It's like figure skating, but not. Tacky, flashy costumes, cheesy arrangements of popular tunes, sweaty smiling people, and scores! Guilty pleasure. I wish I could do it. I would rock those sequins.

OK, enough time wasting. Back to real work. Off to find velcro.

If You Can Read This, Thank a Music Teacher

Hold Me Closer

Happy Halloween 2007, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

I wasn't going to make her a costume.

I held out, until the night before.

I saw the little white tights, laying on her dresser. Her pink maryjane Robeez. And the little pink long-sleeved T-shirt with the snaps, just like a little leotard, and I couldn't resist.

So, we headed to JoAnn fabrics, I grabbed some elastic and a yard and a half of rose and pink tulle, and got out the scissors.

I tied knot after knot while we watched The Great Pumpkin, and the next morning dressed my Tiny Dancer. I considered putting on her sunglasses and buying her a tiny piano, but Dr. B thought that was a little over the top. She was a hit at the mall (waiting for the car to be done with the PA emissions test), at her Daddy's work, and at Otto's for supper. I even got in the spirit and put on tights, ballet flats, a jersey skirt and a wrap sweater, all in black. I was her choreographer. I even had the speech planned, "You got dreams? You want fame? Well, right here's where you start paying! IN SPIT!!!" But no one even noticed me. It was all about her.

And she drooled all over the tulle.

Of Socks and Pumpkin Pants

Happy Halloweek!, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Last Tuesday was a very sad day.

A pair of my most favorite socks (that I wear all the time, not just in October, similar to my penguin socks) were decidedly done. They were worn through on the heels, and I'm not about to learn to darn a pair of socks that cost 2 bucks, so I had to put my Vampire Socks in the trash.

Sigh.

I set out to find a replacement. And I did. Two, in fact. Please note that the candy corn ones are extra versatile, because you can wear them for Thanksgiving as well. (Corn is Thanksgivingy, right?) I love the witch boot pair, because they remind me of those witch cartoons you used to see back in the day, when Bugs was on every Saturday morning, and the parents slept in and let you eat pudding pops for breakfast (OK, maybe they didn't know about that) and watch hours and hours of TV in your jammies.


And the rest of the girls are getting in the spirit, too. Rowan's have little spiders on them. And for some reason, orange daisies. Lucy's ghost scarf glows in the dark, too.

Happy Halloweek!!!

It's Coming...

Tuesday, Oct. 30.

8:00 PM/7:00 Central time on ABC.

Yay! I'm a believer. How 'bout you?

Sucking on Sophie

Sucking on Sophie from Ronica on Vimeo.

When Rowan gets tired, she starts acting, well, sort of strange. This video is a good example. It was taken Saturday afternoon, in the dressing room at Macy's while her dad was trying on pants. After manically nursing the rubber giraffe's face and shrieking a bit, she makes a fart noise with her mouth. Three minutes later, she was passed out in her stroller, in what we call the Buddha pose (ie no neck, eyes closed, mouth closed.) She slept for a good half hour, long enough to get Dr. B a pair of jeans, a pair of pants and two new shirts. (They were having some good sales!) All in all, a good day's work.

F'in a UFO

Detail of collar, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Knitters are famous for UFO's, me included. This was a sweater I started for Louise, the summer before we left Paris to move back to the US. I finished it, except for the weaving in and buttons, but there were things I wanted to fix.

So it sat in my knitting basket for about a year.

I finally decided that since I'd lost the pattern and couldn't remember what kind of yarn it was, much less what size needles, I should just finish the dumb thing before my own child, conceived and born since I'd laid it down, would outgrow it.

So I grabbed some buttons at Walmart and spent way too much time poorly sewing in the billions of ends. I washed and blocked it, and now it's sitting, waiting to dry (which is taking forever because it's been raining for days and days and days.)

An unusual color for a baby girl, perhaps, but I like it. I think it's Debbie Bliss Cashmerino, but I really don't remember. It's not perfect by any means, but it's done.

Now I need to get moving on the shawl collared shrug I'm knitting for her, before she outgrows that one, too!

Hockey

Dr. B grew up in a hockey family, in a hockey town, and though he didn't play himself, he is a die-hard fan. Upon marrying him, I had to learn, and quick.

So I did, and we are forever Sioux fans, cheering loud for our guys in green.

Then, we moved to Wisconsin, and when they weren't playing our team, we cheered the Badgers on.

Upon moving to Pennsylvania, we were disappointed knowing that Penn State didn't have a team in the college conference, Hockey East. They have a club team, but it's just not quite the same as the crazy fervor of "yoooooooooooouuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrr North Dakotaaaaaaahhhh Fighting SIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUXXXXXXXXX!!!!" (Insert blasting opening chords of "Y'all Ready for this?")

But, PA does have hockey. NHL Hockey, and two teams. We were told to support the Penguins, because someone who my mother-in-law used to work with was married to a former Penguin. A plausible reason, and they are owned by Mario Lemieux, the legendary player. So we turned on the game, and started watching.

Good hockey. Fast game, exciting play, and 2 really good fights. And there's a certain player who's getting a lot of buzz. A very young player who is already breaking records, who has impressed Gretzky, was made captain of his team at 19 years old, and who in his first season scored 102 goals. They call him "the next one".

And he's not exactly ugly. (Go on, girls, look. I'll wait.)

OK, I can root for him them. Hmmm... maybe we'll have to go to a game one of these days...

Gush

My brother-in-law is amazing. He's a wonderful guy who always makes my husband laugh until tears run down his face. He's dealt with unbelievable things in his life, and always come out stronger. He's a caring husband to my awesome sister-in-law Samantha, and a great father to my 4 incredible nephews and nieces. And he's a very, very talented finishing carpenter who owns his own business, Brownson Construction, in Billings, MT.

This week (10/21), they aired the television show about the Carter Family in Billings who were given a new home on Extreme Home Makeover. Todd's business did the finishing carpentry on the project. (That means the woodwork, doors, windows, etc.) The home is gorgeous (especially the woodwork, ahem), and the story is incredibly heartwarming.

If you missed it, please check out the show at ABC.com (if you have a US IP address. Foreign ones don't work, sorry.) They don't show him, or even mention him (though they're mentioned on the main contractor's website), but his work speaks for itself. I'm so proud of him!!!

Smile 1.0

Smile 1.0, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Metamorphosis

Dr. B and I are no stranger to things changing in our lives. We moved away from our home state for his graduate school, and when he finished that, we left the country and spent a year in Paris. We came home, returning to the familiar, and then began our journey as parents-to-be. For the most part, things always seemed to turn out for us. Whether this is due to my guardian angel or not, we had always come out on top.

Then Rowan was born. Now don't get me wrong--this wasn't a bad thing. But it didn't turn out just as we expected.

Rowan had colic for the first few months of her life. She would scream and cry and fuss for hours and hours on end, and nothing we did would calm her. She would not be soothed. It tore at our hearts to see our little girl upset, when we could find nothing to help her. And not only that, she didn't seem to even know we existed. She didn't love us. She didn't need us. We couldn't help her and she didn't care.

I felt like a failure. For one of the first times in my life, I was failing at something.

I led an easy life--I got good grades, learned easily, made friends, was happy. I was both talented, gifted, lucky. Though I had dealt with things that were difficult, I always came through it. But this time, no amount of thinking or research or planning or intuition could solve this problem. I couldn't do it. And I didn't know how to take that.

I had thought, before she was born, that the connection would be instant. That I would love her more than life itself from day one, like all parents talk about. But it just wasn't that way. I loved her, yes. But I didn't like her that much. She wasn't very easy to like. Yes, she was beautiful, and perfect, and wonderful and a blessing from God. But she was very difficult, and it was difficult to deal with the fact that I wasn't completely in love with my daughter. I felt awful, but sometimes I was very angry, and frustrated and defeated. I was very ashamed. I felt like a terrible mother.

Then, Dr. B had to come to Pennsylvania to start his job, and we spent six weeks visiting family. I was scared. Scared to death. It was all on me.

It was tough, though I had the help of our family. But it was still up to me. Then slowly, it started to get easier. She still had her tough days, but they were fewer. She started smiling, and one day she smiled when she saw me. And things started to change. Very slowly, they started to change.

Last week, Dr. B had a conference in Washington DC for four days. I was all alone, with her and with Lucy. And it was fine. No, better than fine. It was good.

The other day, Rowan had her 4 month shots. She screamed when the nurse poked her, and cried desperately as I gathered up her papers and checked out. We went outside, and I took her in my arms and sat on the grass with her, holding her close and cuddling her and singing silly songs until she calmed down and returned to her happy self.

The next day, she was still reacting to the shots. This time she wasn't fussy, but she did take more naps, and long ones. I found myself checking on her, often.

And then I realized it. I couldn't wait for her to wake up. I missed her.

This is one change I am very proud of. This is a real accomplishment. This means more to me than a doctoral degree or a year abroad or the perfect job or the best performance.



I am absolutely, positively in love with my daughter. I look forward to waking her up in the morning, and I can't wait to snuggle with her when I hear her stir. Her laughter gives me that "squeeee!!!" feeling I got the first time Dr. B called me for a date. Her smiles light up my world. When she buries her face in my neck as I carry her up to bed, I'm in heaven.

I'm a Mom, and now I finally feel like a good one.

Heaven Sent

The Littlest Angel, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Thanks, Mom. She's beautiful.

Football

Dr. B and I aren't football fans. Frankly, sports aren't the least bit interesting for us, save of course for the best team in the world. Last night, as we met some of his colleagues for supper at Otto's Brewpub in State College, we were asked who we'd be rooting for during today's big homecoming game. I saw some Badger fans, glowingly happy in their cherry red jackets, and I felt, well, a little homesick.

I like State College. It's my new home, and it's Dr. B's new job, which he really enjoys. It's a great university, great reputation, beautiful area, blah blah blah. But I spent seven years of my life in Cheezland, drinking the wonderful local microbrews with lots of wonderful friends, enjoying squeaky curds (well, not often--I'm not a big fan of those. Cheese really shouldn't squeak.) and eating brats (well, not a lot of those either--have you seen the cholesterol count?) so it's hard to say "Go Lions!" when for years it's been "Go Badgers!" (Of course, unless they were playing the Fighting Sioux, but that's a given. We will always bleed green.)

So today, I admit to mixed emotions when finding out that the Nittany Lions trounced the Badgers in an embarrassing event at the local stadium.

I feel a little guilty. I saw my Wisconsin sweatshirt, neatly folded on the top shelf of the closet, and I didn't put it on.

Shame on me.

Sorry, Badgers. I'll have to do penance.

Would cheese curds and a brat help?

A Surprise Will Appear in My Pants

A Surprise Will Appear in My Pants, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Fortune cookie fortunes always come true.

Child Star

Good Morning! from Ronica on Vimeo.

This is amazing. Pretty much the definition of camera shy.

I guess they'll never make a movie starring her.

Oh well. I'll just have to win the lottery to make my millions. (Maybe I should start playing?)

But you have to admit, she is pretty cute.

When Making Yogurt

for the first time with your new yogurt maker

(because we can't find our favorite kind here, and France spoiled us)

scorched is not a flavor.


Crap.








.

If

you accidentally put Preparation H on your toe instead of Neosporin, will you get hemorrhoids on your feet?

Oops.

Defeat

Rowan is four months old now, and she's starting to develop a schedule. She isn't rigid, but she often takes a morning nap, and sometimes takes an afternoon nap. She likes to go to bed around the same time and wake up around the same time, playing by herself for a few minutes in her crib every morning and greeting me with a grin and a giggle. And knock on wood, she's sleeping through the night. (She won't tonight, because I said that.) I can go out and do errands, but only after the morning nap, and not every day.

When she was little, we'd often strap her in the carseat, go out for dinner, and she'd be great. We could head out late, enjoy our supper, and she'd sleep away, charming the waiters and other restaurant patrons with how good she was.

Dr. B was determined that our child would be different. She'd grow up with our lifestyle, and would naturally take to it. She wouldn't be like other kids, and force her parents to do her bidding. She'd eat artichoke hearts and camembert sandwiches, eschew chicken nuggets and mac'n'cheese, and would behave herself perfectly well in the most trendy/snotty/fancy/of-the-moment restaurants while we leisurely enjoyed a glass of wine and rosemary goat cheese wontons with thai curry lingonberry chutney*.

Last night, Dr. B got home rather late from work. He had a very important phone call with a very important group about a new project that he and a colleague want to try that day, and he had been very nervous about it. The call went well, and he wanted to celebrate. Since he knew I had run errands during the day and taken Lucy for a long walk, he offered to take me out to dinner. But, by the time he got home and we were ready to go, it was 8 PM. And Rowan wasn't having any of it.

We diapered her, put her in her jammies, and strapped her into the car seat. That's when the trouble started. Before we could snap the buckles, she was wailing. Dr. B was not about to be told what to do by a 17 week old baby. He grabbed the car seat, and walked out the door. As I picked up the diaper bag and began to follow him, the tears started. Dr. B stomped to the gate, and then stomped back when I asked him to lock the door to the house. By the time we clicked her into the base in the car, she was going full force. Bloody murder screaming.

Determined, Dr. B set his jaw and put the car in gear. "I'll feed her at the restaurant," I offered. "The place is close, right?"

More screaming from the back seat.

"I'm sorry, Honey. It's just late. She wants to be home, going to bed."

"She can sleep in her car seat. She'll be fine," he said.

"You tell her that."

We stopped at the end of the drive, and Dr. B sighed. We listened to her scream for a few minutes more, and I turned to look at him. "We can go, honey," I said. "There aren't any cars coming."

He sighed deeply. "I'll take you back, and go get the pizza and bring it home," he said, angry but defeated.

As soon as Rowan's car seat was picked up, she stopped crying. As I unstrapped her, she sighed with relief. She ate slowly as if savoring her meal, and muttered not a peep when I layed her down in her crib, even though her mobile was out of batteries and she had to make due with just the womb bear and a soothie.

Dr. B came home just as I walked back down the stairs, loaded down with spicy stuffed banana peppers, BBQ chicken pizza, wine, and yogurt and coffee (the things I had forgotten at the store.)

"You were right," he said as he poured me a glass of wine. "I pushed it and it didn't work, it wasn't fair. To either of you."

"You can reason with just about anyone," I answered, "except a 4 month old baby. There's no messing with her."

Bring on the chicken nuggets.



*I made this up. Sounds gross, doesn't it?

Podunk Hospital

Saturday night, Dr. B and I were getting ready for bed, tripping over each other in our tiny bathroom as we tried to brush our teeth, wash our face (OK, mine) and take out our contacts (OK, mine again.) His haus-schuh (German wool clog) brushed over my big toe, and I screamed. "AAAARRGGHHH!!!!! YOU HAVE TO BE MORE CAREFUL!!!"

He took one look at my swollen, pink toe and shook his head.

"Honey, that's infected. It's not getting better. You have to go to the doctor."

Crap.

Yeah, an ingrown toenail. And I have to go to the doctor. Great.

So, the next day I started making calls. Being new to the area, we didn't yet have a regular doc, and I didn't know who to see. In Madison, at the top-rated clinics and hospitals, I would have gone to Acute Care or Urgent Care, been given a referral, and then seen a special foot doctor at the special clinic. Efficient, clean, organized--and don't you dare deviate from the plan. But no matter what, all I would have to do is tell my problem to whomever answered the phone, and I would be shuttled off to the right person/place/time in a wink.

"Um, I don't know. Huh. Hmm. Uh.... Well, I suppose you should see a podiatrist?"

Great. I got the guy with all the information.

"I don't know if we have any around here. You could always come to the ER."

Wonderful. The emergency room. For a toenail.

"Let me send you back to the ER. They should be able to tell you."

OK, fine. ER. They should know.

"Oh. An ingrown toenail? Infected? Huh. I guess you should see a podiatrist."

This is going great. Boy, I have incredible confidence in the medical system, let me tell you.

"Huh. I don't know if we have any around here. Or if they're taking new patients. Maybe you should just come in to the ER."

(Me) "For a toenail? Really?"

"Yeah, it's fine. No big deal!"

OK. The ER for a toenail. I can't quite accept this.

(Me again, expecting a 3 hour wait.) "So, when are you least busy?"

"Ha ha! Oh, you never know. Sometimes it's quiet, then it gets real busy... might even change between the time you call and the time you arrive. We never know! Just come in when you can."

Okey dokey.

So, Monday morning I ate lunch early, packed Rowan into the car, and after dropping off a shelf to be repaired at the glass shop ("We're real busy, it might take until Friday!"), went to the ER. I packed 3 books for her and a book for me, plus puppy dog finger puppets (it's good to have a soon-to-be uncle who works for Manhattan Toy).

We arrived, and I went up to the desk. "I feel kind of stupid about this, but I have an ingrown toenail." She assured me it was no problem, gave me a form to fill out (name, injury, birthdate and SSN. That was it.) I was shown in to be registered in a few minutes. A few minutes later, I was back in a room. And a few minutes later, I saw a doctor. He didn't quite seem to know what he was doing, but he was quick.

"Hmmm... I don't know if I can do anything with this. I can give you antibiotics, but I think you'll need to see a podiatrist. I don't know if there are any in the area."

Broken record?

I sat there, staring at my toe, and wondering if I'd have to drive all the way to Pittsburgh or Philly to see a doctor. For a stupid ingrown toenail. Would Dr. B have to take off work? Could I drive myself? Would I have to be admitted? Are we talking real surgery here?

A few minutes later, he came back.

"If you can wait 25 minutes, we have a PA that can do the surgical procedure for you."

25 minutes? I was planning on 3 hours!!! "Yeah, I can wait."

I fed Rowan, read her a story, and began reading my own book. Then the PA (a Mommy of one boy, who cooed over Rowan's adorable Robeez) came in, with a nurse (a Daddy of 3 girls) who offered to hold the baby.

Then the fights began. 3 more volunteers came into our room during the procedure, arguing over who got to hold the baby (2 Grandpas and a Grandma.)

Yep, we're in a small town.

The PA was excellent, numbing my toe with lots of lidocaine (4 CC's), cutting quickly and efficiently, and showing me afterwards the jagged edge that had been causing the pain. One of the volunteers cleaned up my foot (after reluctantly giving up the baby). Another came to wheel me to my car afterwards, helping me juggle the diaper bag, my purse and the car seat, and neatly folding my prescriptions and instructions and putting them in the bag for me.

I was given antibiotics, and instructions for 5 pain pills every four hours (2 tylenol, 3 advil.) "We could give you something stronger, but since you're breastfeeding..." the doctor said. I looked at him, and pointed to Rowan.

"29 hours of labor. I'll be fine."

Though the hospital may not have been the model of efficiency and experience Madison's are, they took good care of me, and made me feel more like I was being treated by my aunt and uncle, rather than a big city professional. And it was just fine.

So afterwards, I made a quick stop to get a replacement social security card for mine that I can't find and need to get a driver's license here (gotta love a small town--the wait was about 4 minutes.) We then ran to Walmart to get my prescription filled. After 10 minutes spent entering my information, the clerk smiled and said, "that will be 30 to 40 minutes."

You have got to be kidding me. I didn't wait that long in the ER.

Yeah, whatever. A ploy to get you to shop. But I needed groceries, and Dr. B needed a shoe rack for his closet, and I wanted to try to make a Christmas stocking for Rowan and needed some fuzzy chenille yarn, so I got everything taken care of in one stop. After a caramel sundae chez McDo, we headed home. (You have to take antiobiotics with food, you know, and that's food. Really.) I tried to lay her down for a nap after she ate and we took Lucy out for a potty break (during which Fuzz-Face stepped on my bad toe and then nearly tore my arm off trying to eat a cat), but Rowan was too wound up. We played, then went to meet Dr. B for supper out. (I had the duck sandwich, he had the Eddie D'licious.)

And Rowan hit the wall.

After a whole day of crazy errands and being a very good girl, she'd had enough. So, we took turns eating and holding/walking/soothing her, and came home. She ate again, got PJ'd up, and I laid her down. She was passed out after one revolution of the mobile.

That was just about the most productive day I've had since she was born. I may not have unpacked a single box, but I got a lot done. Sometimes, life is a lot easier in a small town.

I Look Exactly Like This

My sister's getting married in November in the Bahamas. And me being the super nice sister I am, I'm going. (Twist my rubber arm.) Dr. B is staying here. I know, that makes no sense to normal people, but to him it is very clear. He must pay off our debt (well, except student loans, the mortgage and the car) before he can do anything fun. He would just feel too guilty. (I don't understand either, but it's like the vacuum--you just don't argue with Mr. OCD.)

When I visited my aunt in August, we looked at the website for the resort we're going to be at for the wedding, and I realized that my stained and stretched out t-shirts and 4 year old capri pants just weren't going to cut it. So, I hit the Herberger's and bought a whole bunch of tropical-looking sundresses on 70% off. Got some new sandals, too. Found a bikini, sun hat and cover up for Rowan on clearance at Target. When visiting my sister the next week, we even found a dress for me to wear for the wedding at the BCBG Max Azria outlet. 40 bucks for a 400 dollar dress--not bad.

But, the thing I didn't have was a swimsuit. This being the Caribbean, I didn't think I could weasel my way out of wearing one too easily, and the last one I bought (in 2000 I think) was looking a little tired. It's so old, I'm not even sure the elastic still has the boing factor--I may be able to carry my suntan lotion in the extra room in the booty region.

But I hate suit shopping. Who doesn't? It sucks. The last time I had success was at a Lands' End inlet, after going through about 40 suits. Pick your reason for denial:

Smoosh the boobs
Poochy on the butt
Only fit when I slouch (I have a very long torso)
Two words: Michelin Man
So high in the leg I look like Jane Fonda circa 1983, only fatter
Make my skin look like dead fish flesh
Beefy
Bumpy
Squishy
Those fluorescent lights!

I'd heard Victoria's Secret had good suits. Really good.

Yeah, I didn't believe it either.

But, I gave it a go. To hedge my bets, I got a "long torso" size, 2 piece tankini. Ordered 2 sizes and 2 color combinations, knowing full well that the smaller one wouldn't fit, and expecting that neither one would look decent on me.

But I was wrong. Not about the smaller one fitting. It didn't.

But the other one did. See it up there? I look exactly like that in it. Really!

OK, not exactly. (Her hair is longer.) But I don't look half bad. The tummy pooch is hidden, it's not too high on the legs, the color is (for once) not black, the pattern is very cheerful without making me feel like I should be waiting tables at Cheezburger in Paradise, and it keeps the girls in place without smooshing them much. I actually like it. AND the matching capri pants were on sale for 10 bucks.

How can you beat that?

Zerbet!

I knew all those hours of practicing the trombone would pay off.



Zerbet from Ronica on Vimeo.

Band Directors make the best zerbeters. And their daughters are so zerbetable.

And it appears that an audio suggestion works as well...

5 Minutes

Rowan Amelia, 15 weeks, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Rowan is in a good mood today, but her naps have been short. Often, but short. Since I can't get much done unpacking-wise, I've been using the time to upload photos and videos.

This is my latest favorite, taken yesterday. Click it to head over to flickr to see more photos from the last 3 weeks.

And maybe this time she'll sleep for more than 5 minutes, and I can get a box unpacked.

Yeah, right.

Bootylicious

Booty Dance from Ronica on Vimeo.

This diaper made her butt look big, so Rowan decided to channel Beyoncé and do a booty dance. Topless blonde Beyoncé, that is.

Ha!

Finally. Captured on camera.



Rowan Laughing at her Dad from Ronica on Vimeo.

She really does laugh and smile, occasionally.

You Know You're A Mom When...

... you start dancing to the muzak at Walmart in the lampshade isle, just to make your baby laugh.

In my defense, I think it was Patti Smith.

Celebration

I won't be a *itch and tell you I was in my jeans 2 weeks after Rowan was born.

(Woops. Sorry about that. I just did, didn't I? Oh well, don't think it's anything I did. It's genetics, not willpower.)

But I have to celebrate today.

Thanks to breast feeding, stress, and being too lazy to walk downstairs and get the clean, folded jeans next to the dryer...
(drumroll)

I am wearing my SKINNY JEANS! For the first time in 2 years!
AND I AM EATING CARBS!!!

End brag.

(If it makes you feel better, I do have a big old zit on my forehead.)

Vacuum Debate

When we moved to France, we had to store all of our stuff. Dr. B, being the Obsessive-Compulsive that he is, freaked out at the end, and began throwing things away. Important things. Cleaning things.

He tossed my mop. My bucket. My broom. The dustpan. Even... the vacuum cleaner.

"It smells like dog! It stinks anyway. Doesn't work for crap."

Well, it did work (or else all that dirt I emptied out of the cup each time was imaginary.) And yeah, it smelled like dog. Likely, any vac would. Because we have a dog.

He was in the midst of a big freak out about getting us to France, learning the language, dotting all the i's and crossing the t's, having no money, etc., so I didn't argue. I know better than to argue with him when he's in the midst of a big freak out. (Or at least let him win part of it. It's a control issue. Logic schmlogic.)
We came back, and our new home had all hardwood floors. With no need for a big vac, I bought new mops and brooms, and made due with a small hand vac for necessary suck ups. It was fine. I still hate mopping, but it was fine.

Now we're in a place with carpet. Lots of new, nice carpet. And it needs vacuuming.

And so the argument begins.

I need your help. We are discussing the Bissell Lift Off and the Dyson Animal (or not the Animal--whatever, a Dyson anyway.) My sister has the Dyson, and loves it. However, I'm not in love with the ginormous price tag, whether I have a Bed, Bath and Beyond All Hope 20% off coupon or not (currently I don't.) Dr. B is convinced it is better, because the inventor is a scientist and of course scientists know better than people who have been making vacuums for umpteen billion years. I think he's buying into the hype of the brilliant inventor's brilliant marketing scheme, personally. Chances are, the Bissell works as well, or not so much worse that anyone would notice unless you told them. (Don't all people with Dysons tell you they have a Dyson? So you'll notice how clean their floor is, of course. Because you wouldn't have noticed otherwise.) The Bissell has a cool feature, too, that I like--the center part pulls out and is easy to carry around (I'm thinking stairs.) I'm not a neat freak (though my sister might argue), but I do like a clean house, especially with a little one who will eventually be toddling around it.

So, what do you think? All I can find online are a bunch of people who buy one, use it once, and rave about how great it is. Yeah, well, the first time you use a bagless it is pretty amazing to see the dirt. I'm over that. (Last one, the "doggie stinky vac" was a bagless, too.) I want to know if the Bissell does a good job, if it will last, and if it is a good alternative. I just have a hard time spending as much for a vacuum as I did for my wedding gown (which was worth every penny.)

UPDATE: We got the Bissell. It works great, is fairly quiet, moves very smoothly, and doesn't lose the on-board parts every time you move it. If it had a retractable cord, I think it would be the perfect machine. (Well, that and if it vacuumed the house for me while I was taking a nap. That would be even better.)

The Deal

Dr. B has been very busy at work, building his new program and wanting to impress (or at least not tick off) the people around him, so managing the household is pretty much left up to me (except for the AM and PM Lucy walks--he takes care of them.) With a house full of boxes and a 3.5 month old baby, I don't exactly have all my ducks in a row yet, but I'm working on it, slowly but surely. After waking up several days in a row with an aching back, I gave myself a little more slack when it comes to unpacking (and it helped--my back feels much better now). Dr. B promised to help more on the weekend, and I took him at his word. As long as I was able to sit on the couch again, find clean towels, clothes and dishes, and had a bed to sleep in, I could survive.

On Friday night, we were invited to a colleague's home for supper and dog-acquainting. Rowan had another of her no-nap days (after several blissful sleeping-through-the-night and 3 hour nap days), so I was a bit frazzled when he got home from the U. After helping him to find a pair of casual pants to wear (searching his closet and the laundry bin, and subsequently rejecting 5 or 6 options for various reasons), I asked him to change her pants and her outfit so I could also change out of my unpacking clothes, slap on a little lipstick and fluff up my hair.

He laid her on the couch, and got ready to change her pants. Overheard, from upstairs...

"It's naked time! Whoopee! Naked time! Are you ready?"

"Goooo!!!!" (that was Rowan.)

"Ok, here we go. Are you wet or poopy? Just wet. OK, no problem."

He pulls the diaper out from under her.

"Alright. So, I have to reach over there for another diaper. Now, don't pee. It will be just a second, so don't pee. Do we have an understanding?"

"Gaaaahhh!" (Rowan again.)

I am sure you can see where this one is headed.

He reaches for the diaper, and in that split second--you got it.

Pee.

All over the couch and his carefully chosen pants.

"Hey! Ack! What the... Argh! We had a deal! We had an accord!!! I thought we had an understanding!!!"

Rowan: "Goooo!!!"

Then, she giggled.

Yep. She knows exactly what she is doing.

Welcome to Cardboard City

So we're here! Officially Pennsylvania residents, and we're doing our part to fill up the local dumpster with cardboard. We've got a teeny path through which we can walk, but we're sleeping in our own beds and Dr. B even cleared me a spot on the couch where I can sit down tonight. Yes, sit! I'm excited.

I've come to a few conclusions: we have too much junk. I have waaaaaayyyy too much cooking/serving/eating/drinking stuff. (Perhaps this is why I am not a size 2.) I have way too many shoes. And clothes. And handbags. And books (but you can't blame me entirely for that one.)

Though we don't have as much kitchen space or basement storage, we do have big closets, 2 linen closets (we had zero in the other place), and central air. Hallelujah for that! Our internet was hooked up today, and as soon as I find the router, we'll even be wireless. We'll figure it all out, though it may take a while.

Rowan is growing and changing every day. Her newest trick is to wait until we are busy doing something and start fussing, until we run over to check on her. Then she laughs at us.

Great. Manipulation starting at 3 months old.

However, she is loving the stinky feet game, which is pretty fun for all involved. You smell her feet, say "Pew!" in a high pitched voice, and she laughs. It's pretty adorable, I must say. (And her feet don't stink yet, unlike her Mom's.)

So, you may hear from me occasionally, when I take a break from unwrapping more crap we really don't need but keep moving around with us anyway.

Right now I'm going to bed. It's been a long day.

Ergo Sum

If a tree falls in the woods...

So, do I exist?

Try it for yourself.


Hmmm... maybe this means I should actually still be living in France...

Tub

Rowan loves baths. Loves being in the water, waving her arms and legs, doesn't mind getting her face wet or even "going under". Just like her Daddy, she is a water baby. She'll sit in there until the water is cold, and not fuss a bit.

But a little advice: it's a good idea to put in your ear plugs before you take her out.

Abundance

Tomorrow my father is coming to pick up me and the kid (dog is staying at the in-laws'), and we're off to a wedding, and then 10 days at his house in Bismarck, with excursions to visit the GG's (Great Grandparents). So tonight, I packed.

Oy vey. (Am I allowed to say that?)

Thanks to the incredible generosity of my sister-in-law (who recently mailed another 3 boxes of clothes) and gifts from friends, Rowan has enough clothes to outfit the entire state of North Dakota. And maybe Pennsylvania, too.

And me? Yeah, I've always been a clothes-horse. And the fear of no Old Navy in State College forced me to pick up a couple of tops and pairs of capris. You know, because I'll be deprived of inexpensive, trendy clothes that are made in China. (Yes, there's one in Altoona, 45 minutes away. I've already staked it out.)

Plus, with the cloth diapers, disposables (for when we're not at home), burp rags, play mats, blankies, nuks, vitamins, gripe water and wipes, well... let's just say it's a good thing I brought the big suitcase.

And I'm only taking stuff for 10 days. Yikes.

Looks like we'll be mailing stuff to our new home. Maybe we should have bought a bigger house?

Squawk!

Squawk! from Ronica and Vimeo.

Yeah, I'm having fun with the Vimeo. This was taken last week. She makes strange noises like this all the time, including when sleeping.

Yep, she's her mom's daughter.

Nature Girl

Nature Girl from Ronica and Vimeo.

Our little girl loves to be outside, and walking up and down the sidewalk is sometimes the only thing that calms her down. Yesterday was a beautiful day, so we spent some time lying under a tree staring up at the leaves. She has also recently discovered her fist, so it was an exciting time, to say the least!

I have no idea what we'll do come January.

Birthday Gift

I got this for my birthday.

Not perfume. No jewelry. Not a new outfit.

And I don't care.

Yeah, I'm a Mom. It's not all about me anymore.

This thing totally rocks. She loves it. She lays under it, squeaking and waving her arms and looking at herself in the mirror until she passes out from exhaustion.

I sit nearby, eating chocolate, reading blogs, folding diapers, watching TV, and not trying to soothe a baby who's crying and fussing for no apparent reason.

At least today. (I make no promises about tomorrow.)

Oh, and did I tell you the best part? The mat is machine washable (for those spit up stains. She's already christened it. Twice.)




PS: Thanks for all the birthday wishes!

I Look Like a Monkey, and I Sing Like One, Too

Yesterday was another one of them. Hell days. She started the night before, and carried it over into Sunday. 2 naps, 15 minutes each. The rest of the time? Yelling and crying. Lots of it. (Some from me, admittedly.)

She finally went to sleep around 11, and I knew, I *knew* that tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

After all, it's my birthday.

I woke up, peered over the end of the bed into the portable crib, expecting a sweet smile and a lovely nursing session, followed by another hour of sleep curled up together in the big bed.

And I got a rude awakening.

No smile.

Oh crap... I thought.

Yep. She's now got the stamina for two full days.

I think I cried just about as many tears as she did.

But, finally she settled down around 3 PM and we all jumped in the car to drive to Fargo to pick up the Jimmy, newly and very expensively repaired, and to go out to Johnny Carino's for my birthday dinner. I got a good start on the baby bolero I'm knitting for her (thanks, Flare!), and she was an angel, most of the time (except for about 5 minutes around Hillsboro, but I don't blame her. That sugar beet plant stinks.)

We got home, and I had to use my "crank the music and sing really loudly right in her face making up the words you don't know" trick for about a half an hour, but she's sleeping again.

I think I subbed too many days in music classrooms, if all that calms her is loud music and me singing my heart out.

Too bad I didn't get a karaoke machine for my birthday...

Following Zeb the Zebra

Following Zeb the Zebra from Ronica and Vimeo.

My first video upload--I hope this works. This is Rowan with her new Zebra toy. She loves to watch the black and white patterns on the bottom of its feet!

Meltdown

Our little girl is having more good days than bad days now, and has strings of 3 or 4 days in a row when she takes naps, is happy when she's active, and is generally no trouble at all. She's beginning to smile, follows us with her eyes, loves staring at the TV and the pink star that hangs from the bouncy chair, and is "cooing" (though to me it sounds more like squeaks, squawks, and some "Maaaagghhooowaaaghhoooiiikk????") Her GI tract is figuring itself out, and we no longer dread the one big poop every three days that is thick and sticky--she's now more regular and "looser". This is a very good thing. (And yes, I have become the typical new mom that discusses her kid's poop on a regular basis. Sorry.)

But she still has bad days.

When we'd talk to our family from Madison, they thought we were exaggerating. "Oh, all babies have times like that," they'd say. "Babies cry, it's what they do!" and "But she's good most of the time, you just have to be patient when she has a fussy time."

Dr. B and I knew that they had no idea what kind power Rowan has.

As she screamed for the third hour in a row, Dr. B would say to me, "she's not a nuclear reactor. She has to wear out sometime and fall asleep." Most days, he's right. But not always.

Now, I am back in North Dakota staying with my inlaws, and Dr. B has begun his new job in Pennsylvania. Rowan was great on the trip despite the issues we had, and had several good days after that, leading my inlaws to believe that she was a wonderful, easy baby.

Then it came.

Black Wednesday.

Or, as Jean called it, "The Day From Hell."

Up at 8:30, she had a fussy morning. Lots of crying.

No nap.

More crying.

Lunch time.

Again with the crying.

Coffee with Jean's school gang, and again, no nap.

And more crying.

Afternoon. We were dead. All three of us were in desperate need of a nap, but no dice. More crying. No nap.

"She can't go on like this!" Jean said. "She's got to wear out. I am beat. I don't know how she does it."

We drove around. And around. And around. So long, in fact, that she got hungry again and we had to go home and feed her.

Late afternoon. Dick came home. "What have you been doing to my granddaughter?" he joked.

"You're lucky I like you, or I'd hand her off to you and go to the movies. And take a nap there." I said.

Again, more crying and no nap.

Supper. More crying. No sleeping.

Coffee. (Decaf). Ditto.

Dilly Bar. More of the same.

She finally conked out at 11 PM.

Jean, the next day, in a phone call to her son:

"You're wrong. I'm pretty sure she is a nuclear reactor."

But now, at least, I have an ally. Jean understands. And when people say, "oh, she's such a good baby!" I have someone to exchange "if you only knew" looks with.



*Note: after an "episode", she will usually have a few good days. She made it until Monday this time, but at least when she was awake she wasn't crying this time. Though she was up from 3 AM to 10 PM.

Maybe she'll be a doctor. Seems like she could handle the hours during residency. At least once every 3 or 4 days.

There's No Place Like Home...

We made it. Finally.

The movers came, packed, loaded, and took all of our junk (of which we still have way too much) off to Pennsylvania. Dr. B loaded Wonda the Honda on Friday morning, and drove all the way to State College while I helped the movers finish everything, cleaned our house, and got ready to stay at a dear friends' that night. Rowan was an angel, until I locked the door. Then all the bad luck that seemed to cruise right past us during the move came crashing in.

As we were loading the (now screaming) baby into the car, (near as we can figure) some yoho came by and stole my bag.

Not the one with the computer or the one with the Ipod.

They took the one with all my makeup, toiletries, hair dryer, glasses, contact lenses, prescriptions, dirty laundry and my favorite capri pants. Plus Rowan's cute new outfit from her second cousin Angie. Everything I needed for the next few days. Check that, months. They even got my toenail clippers and eyebrow plucking things.

Argh!

We went back and scoured the area, but it was nowhere to be found. So, Target was hit and even just replacing a small portion of those items was quite a hit to the pocketbook.

Rowan had a fussy night, and I had insomnia. (Sigh.) Our friends were angels, helping us, feeding me and putting up with a screaming baby and a frustrated mommy who didn't even have shampoo to shower away the icky moving grit.

But, Saturday morning dawned, and the inlaws came to pick us up.

Then we tried to fit all our stuff we did have in their Jimmy.

Whoa.

Maybe it was a good thing I didn't have that bag. (Note to self: buy smaller suitcase. With that, Lucy's crate, and Rowan's car seat, there wasn't much space.)

So, I breathed shallowly on the way up to Minneapolis. We stopped for dinner at another good friend's house. It was wonderful.

Driving into Fargo at 12:30, trying to wake up for fear that my contact lenses would need to be surgically removed from my eyes, I heard a WHAM!!! from the backseat.

We hit a deer. Came out of nowhere, and took out the headlights and rammed the front real good.

We drove slowly on the side of the road, flashers blinking and a state patroller following us into the next town, where most of the lights were out for some unexplained reason. Found the first hotel with lights on, and got a room. There were no cribs left, so Rowan slept with me, and Lucy slept right next to me on the floor. The next morning, we had breakfast, rented another SUV (which my inlaws are presently driving back to Fargo because they wouldn't let us return it up here), and came home.

It felt so good to walk through those doors.

So now we're here, with spotty cell phone reception (call me at Jean and Dick's if you can't get me), comfy couches, air conditioning, and Harry Potter.

And the all-important swing that Great Aunt B. let Rowan borrow. Thank you, B! That's a lifesaver, that is.

So now? Time to rest and relax and do nothing. (Except the cooking and cleaning--Cinderellie owes her in-laws, BIG TIME.)

Primp

Pre-Baby:

Plan outfit carefully, with appropriate undergarments. Iron as needed.
Shower, shave, shampoo, condition, cleanse with some lovely-smelling shower gel, pumice feet.
Paint toenails, with base coat, two coats of color (Berry Berry Broadway is my favorite), top coat.
Paint fingernails, with base coat, two coats of color (more understated than toes, Sheer Sugarplum is my top choice), top coat.
Apply anti-perspirant, body lotion, perfume.
Carefully apply makeup, including foundation, concealer, blush, eyeshadow (two types), eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, mascara (lashes appropriately curled, of course).
Dry and style hair, using several hair care products for that touseled look.
Choose jewelry, scarves and shoes to compliment outfit.
Don appropriate outerwear for the weather.
Apply a final coat of lipstick and/or gloss, checking teeth to make sure there are no stray lipstick marks.


Post-Baby:

"Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you see the poop stain on my shirt?"*



*Yes, I really did ask this just before leaving the house.


***NOTE: The movers have packed the house, Dr. B is leaving this morning for PA, and my job is to clean the place while avoiding a baby meltdown when they load the truck. Dr. B will be taking the cable box, remote, and router thingee back to the cable company on his way out of town, so I will be wireless-less for a few days. Please be patient, and I'll post comments as soon as I can! My in-laws are coming to get us tomorrow, and we'll be back in the land of Ice and Snow, Tornadoes and 109 degree heat by late Saturday night.

Kabillion

We bought a home, found temporary housing for Dr. B, planned a 6-week stay in ND for me, the girl and the pup, and now are in the midst of a kabillion things that we have to do to prepare. We have movers coming to pack and haul everything, but that doesn't change the fact that things are a disorganized mess, and the house is in serious need of cleaning (yeah, like that's going to happen!) We're selling surplus items on Craig's List, hoping to see friends before leaving, and trying to ignore the fact that we're leaving the town we love so much (though from our week in SC,PA, we are pretty sure we're going to love it there, too.)

So posts may be infrequent for a bit, and I'm not sure when I'll get pictures up on Flickr (working on it!), but I do have to share this one with you.

Our lives may be caught in a whirlwind right now, but we do have the most beautiful little girl in the whole wide world. Don't you agree?

PS: She wore a hat for a few days, which made some of the hair in the front of her head rub off. She kind of looks like Ed Asner, but it's growing back. And her eyelashes are getting really long, so it kind of makes up for the baldie-mullet look.

House

This week, we're spending some time in our future hometown, State College, PA. It's a charming college town, nestled in the Allegheny Mountain Range of the Appalachian Mountains, and is full of students and people who really, really like Penn State. (And we thought Bucky Fever was bad...) Cute shops and restaurants are everywhere, the mountain views are amazing, and there are lots of neat little towns in the area to explore.

We went house hunting, found a townhouse, made an offer, and signed the papers, so we are officially homeowners in debt up to our eyeballs.

But it's cute. Not a lot of storage, but completely updated and redone throughout, so I never have to set foot in Home Depot. (Phew!)

Only problem is that it's not available when we need it, so we are planning a trip for me, the girl and the dog back to ND to visit family in August, and Dr. B will come alone for a while and live somewhere (still working on that.)

Scary, but exciting. I think we're going to like it here. More details soon...

Warning

Rowan in her cute Baby Gap top, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Rowan was up today at 5 AM. After nursing, changing her clothes and sheets (she either wet everywhere or just got really, really sweaty while sleeping), and rocking her for a while, Dr. B took over and let me go back to bed before putting her back down around 7.

She slept until 11 AM.

I awoke at 10, ate breakfast, drank coffee, read my email, made the bed, cleaned the bathroom, showered, got dressed, combed my hair, brushed my teeth, put in my contacts and even moisturized before she woke up.

I think this means we're in for it tonight. Beware.

And if you hear wailing off in the distance? It's her.

Or me.

(Just close your windows tight.)

The Fountain

The first week as a new mom was tough. There were lots of people around, I was exhausted, my hormones were waaaaayyyy whacked out, it was really HOT, and Rowan screamed. A lot. You know, once everyone had gone back to their air-conditioned hotel rooms. (Sigh.)

A few days later, everyone left, my hormones calmed down, and the Ambien helped me sleep a little bit. (Doctor approved, btw.) Dr. B was a big help, and things started to get easier.

But it was still really HOT, and she still screamed. A lot.

Then Dr. B went back to work. And I was all alone with her. And I was scared.

The first day wasn't bad, though. She had a few fussy times, but slept well for the most part.

Then came day 2 (bum Bum BUUUMMMMMM!!!!)

After a night where she allowed me a total of 4 hours of sleep (not consecutive), she woke at 5. And didn't go back to sleep. At all. She wouldn't let me set her down for a second, or she would scream with amazing fury. She was gassy, and before each fart would scream. Then she'd fart. Then she'd scream some more. And it was hot. Really hot. So, we sat in her nursery, lights off, fan on, drapes drawn.

She sat leaning on my chest. And nursed a lot. I sweated a lot, the sweat dripping off my greasy, hormonal face. I watched banal morning television, and desperately wanted a shower.

Then, around 9 AM, she pooped. This was great news, as she had some issues with the whole pooping thing prior to this. I happily changed her diaper.

Then, around 9:30, she pooped again.

And again at 10:15.

And at 11.

And 12:30.

I gave birth to the Bellagio of Poop. Holy Crap.

So, I lay on the couch in my underwear and a tank top, eating granola bars and teddy grahams, drinking water, nursing her every hour and a half, holding her on my chest, changing dirty diapers, and flipping channels.

Just as she started to calm down and *think* about sleeping, the batteries in the remote control died.

As I was mid flip.

And I had just happened to land on ... motorcross. Great.

Finally, around 1, she fell deeply asleep and I was able to shower. That lasted all of 20 minutes, and she was wide awake again. And wanted to nurse. Again. My boobs felt like humongous raw sacks of pain.

At 2 PM, I had had it. It was 92 degrees, and I couldn't take another minute in our hot house. I loaded the screaming banshee in the car, and we went for a drive. I was nearly hallucinating from exhaustion, tears running down my face, begging her to sleep. It took me about 25 minutes of driving before she closed her eyes. At 2:45, I returned home, set her car seat down, and fell onto the couch and passed out.

Dr. B called a little after 3 and came home early, let me cry for a while, took her and changed her diaper (I admit, I was scared to check. And yes. She pooped AGAIN.) Then he poured me a glass of wine and brought me a whole box of chocolate truffles.

And she started screaming again.

So we took another drive until she fell asleep, and went out to dinner. For some reason, she slept the whole time. I guess all that screaming wore her out.

Thankfully, the days since then haven't been nearly as bad, and we are starting to develop a bit of a routine. She's not sleeping through the night by any means, but now will go 4-5 hours at a stretch, allowing Mom to sleep more deeply without the Ambien. I am still not getting a lot done during the day, but each day I go without crying is a victory. It's getting easier to enjoy her--watching her take in the world around her, seeing her turn her head when she hears my voice, wiping her face when she slops milk all down her face as she eats. I wish I could say it was easy now, but it's not. The doctor says she's perfect, and is doing incredibly well. She's gained a lot of weight in her first two weeks of life, so I guess I am doing my job right, even though it may not always feel like it. It's hard, but it's getting easier.

But it will be worth it. She is worth it. And when she wraps her little arms around my neck, I can feel the future tugging at my heart strings. And it feels good.

Belle

Belle, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

New photos are up on Flickr (click the above photo to go there). I'll blog soon, I hope, but for now it is a little difficult--hard to type with a baby in your arms or leaning against your chest (her favorite spot.)

Plus, we soon have to start packing for the big move to Pennsylvania. Anybody free to wrap china?

...It Pours

We got a phone call today.

Nothing's in writing yet, but it looks like we'll soon be packing up this lovely nursery and moving to Pennsylvania.

Prayers answered. Thank you for all your kind thoughts!

Woo-hoooooo!!!!!

our new family!

our new family!, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

She's here, after 29 hours of labor. Long story, and I don't have the energy to write it now, but know that she's beautiful, and perfect, and has a heck of a set of lungs on her! (I just wish she didn't like to give us a concert every morning from 2-5.)

Rowan Amelia

born June 9, 2007; 8:03 AM

7 lbs. 5 oz., 19.5 inches long

Light brown hair, great big eyes, and she smells like a sugar cookie.

We love her so very much.

More later, when we've recovered a bit...

More pictures on my flickr page, and more to come.

Oh, and if you've tried to call, sorry--I don't often get a chance to answer the phone. When she's not eating, awake or screaming, I'm doing my very best to sleep. It doesn't always work, but I'm trying. I would love to hear from you soon, but will need a little time to adjust.

Water

I think my water may have broken, at about 3:20 this morning. I have had some intermittent back pain, and couldn't sleep any more, and really, really needed some peanut butter toast. I read until 6:30, then called the nurse.

So right now, we're getting things ready, showering, eating breakfast, walking the dog (him), putting away clean towels and scouring the sink (me), and preparing to go in and find out if it has.

Broken? I stay and have a baby.

Not? I come home and blog about how frustrated I am.

So if you don't hear anything, you know what's happening.

Comments won't be posted until I get back (as there's no Wifi at the hospital), whether that's in a few hours or a few days, so please post them only once. Thanks!)

No News is No News

Nothing's happening yet, but there is some major severe weather on the way.

If you don't hear anything from our end, it could be that the power is out and we can't post.

Hopefully, the baby will come and everything will be fine.

But wouldn't that be a story to tell, if she chose the biggest storm of the century to make her appearance? My daughter, a drama queen?

I wouldn't be surprised...

Due

Woo hoo!, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

I found this on a roll that was missed in my camera bag, so I decided to spend the afternoon of my due date walking around Walmart for an hour and wait for it to be developed, hoping it would launch me into labor.

It didn't.

But, there are new photos on Flickr, so click that one to go there, if you like. There's a few of the nursery (in progress--the finished room is on the roll that's currently in the camera), some of the April shower, one of the May shower, a few taken this last week when my cousin visited, and some Dr. B took to record what I looked like during my last trimester of pregnancy.

I am smiling, so obviously those were taken before I got completely fed up with the whole being pregnant thing. My due date has come (and nearly gone) and I am still here, swollen, bloated, crampy and waiting. Unfortunately, a due date is not an expiration date.

So, I have been trying to keep busy. This week, I said I'd only work if they requested me specifically. I guess most people have either not needed a sub, or they know my time is close, so I haven't gotten any calls. Thus, my surfaces are dusted, floors are swept, floors are mopped, laundry is (mostly) done, bathroom is clean and the dishes are done.

The nursery is ready, there is extra toilet paper in the closet, the fridge is stocked (except for fruit, yogurt and eggs which we keep eating), and there are even new tomato plants and eggplant plants on the porch (though I haven't potted the eggplants yet.) Lucy has had an excursion to the country for exercise, gotten her rabies shot, and even got a new bag of peanut butter cookies in her Boîte à Toutou.

The finished and overdue library books are returned, my hair is freshly cut and styled, and I even finished knitting that scarf I started for my stepsister a long time ago. Even Lucy is freshly trimmed (thanks to Dr. B with the clippers on the porch).

The new-to-us baby stuff is 409'd and washed, the G diapers are loaded and ready, and there is a brand-new crib, with freshly ironed dust ruffle, lined with a duck and frog sheet and waiting for its occupant to make her appearance.

But we are still waiting. On the job for him, and the baby for both of us. Feels a bit like suspended animation--difficult to keep busy, not get too bored, and try to keep the house clean for the visitors that will come as soon as we make the announcement (though we know they love us and don't care if the bathroom is spotless.) We get a lot of "have you had it yet?" phone calls. It's nice to talk to people, but if I hear that question one more time, I think I'll scream.

Maybe that will trigger labor. One can hope.

The Motherlode

With no labor in sight, I taught a full day on Friday. French at a middle school--not a bad assignment. It was a tougher school, but generally, the kids in French classes aren't too difficult, I know the subject matter very well, and I've found that they tend not to mess with me too much when they see just how pregnant I am. Though I'm not very "big" on the scale of pregnant women due to my freakishly long torso (one girl asked me yesterday if I was 4 or 5 months along), an announcement of my due date being "Wednesday", usually results in a few jaws scraping the floor. Even the tough kids back off when they hear that, telling me about their mothers or aunts or sisters who are expecting, and hoping I don't go into labor right then and there. Heh! Whatever works!!!

After school, I planned to hit a garage sale I'd seen listed on Craig's List. Y'all know I love me my Craig's List. After a successful find a few weeks ago of a complete starter set (with extras she added when I arrived) of G diapers for about 1/4 of the cost online, I had a sneaking suspicion that my Craig's List luck may have run out, but decided to perservere nonetheless.

This sale was listed as "everything you need for baby", so I hoped to find a few things we didn't have yet, though I didn't count on it. I was showing up at the end of the day on day 1 of a 2 day sale, so I knew my chances weren't great.

As it happened, we were in a tornado watch, so the sale people were pulling things inside when I showed up, about 3:30. They didn't have anything I needed. I was a little disappointed, but figured I'd just have to keep watching the website for more, and I'd eventually find things.

"We don't have any of those things, but you should check their sale," the lady said, pointing down the street. "Keep driving around--there are lots of sales in the neighborhood."

And boy, was she right!!!

I found an exersaucer jumperoo, a swing, an older style baby gym, a travel bed and an antique wooden Jenny Lind highchair, that I will probably strip and refinish to match our table set and the hutch my grandfather built.

For all of this, I paid about what I would have paid for our highchair. (And that one was plastic.) And, I'm recycling!!!

Today, my cousin and her husband are going to help us pick up our crib, and then we should be pretty much set.

Except for one little thing.

Theme Park

J.K. Rowling gave the thumbs up to plans for a Harry Potter Theme Park in Florida.

I totally want to go.

Honey, can you take my cloak to the cleaners? I'm too busy waxing my broom.

Yippeeeee!!!