Cinderellie

Yes, we have a girl. We've been to Target, and seen the rows upon rows of pink and purple spangles. We've got nieces, one of whom is a princess, and we've been warned by my SIL that it's coming. But still, we're trying to avoid it as long as humanly possible.

Clothes with "Princess" on them have been nixed, and her wardrobe is a mix of many colors (though she's usually in something kind of girlie when we go out because I am sick and tired of people thinking she's a boy just because she's sort of bald and has on jeans). Her bedroom is nearly pink-free, and could easily be reworked for a boy by changing the floral curtains for stripes. She has dolls, yes, but cars and trucks and balls and building blocks, too. She doesn't seem to have that little-girl-nurturing thing going on (most of the dolls are ignored thus far), and is much more interested in taking apart the remote control, though she does like to stir the soup (AKA the dog's water).

But, apparently, the fashionista gene is already coming to light.

When she was littler, Rowan hated anything on her feet. She'd rip her socks off, and rip her shoes off, as fast as we could put them on. We fell in love with Robeez, because they prevented it and kept her tootsies warm.

Now that she's walking, though, things have changed. She loves shoes. Loves. LOVES LOVES LOVES. She wants them on first thing in the morning, with her pajamas, and would happily sleep in them if we didn't remove them before bed. She loves to dig in our closets and bring us our shoes, and to throw all the shoes sitting by the door outside. She knows whose shoes are whose, and is very bothered when mom puts Rowan's tiny shoes on her gigantic feet. She will bring you her shoes to put on her feet, one at a time, and if you try to pretend you don't know what she wants, she'll hold up the shoe, grunt pointedly, and then lift her foot up into the air.

She's also very into other accessories, and loves to tug at Mom's necklaces or earrings, and turn just about anything into a stole, wrapping it around her shoulders and walking the catwalk of our hallway. The other day it was a scarf. Then the dog's leash. A piece of tulle. Mom's sweater. The strap from my camisole (while I was still wearing it). A kitchen towel. Then, an extension cord.

In planning for her upcoming baptism (her Aunt Rock and Uncle Josh are coming to visit soon), I knew I'd have to find her some shoes. She's long outgrown the ones I got as a gift when she was born, with their lace and satin ties. My own baptism dress, so carefully pressed and preserved by my mother, won't fit her now, so I found a little white toddler dress for her to wear, and even plucked a fancy white cardigan from the hand-me-down box, but I didn't have any shoes.

I checked all the fancy downtown shops, who didn't have anything, and looked online, but was disappointed again. Finally, I packed her up, and headed to the mall. We toodled around, checking the department stores and shoe stores, but had our best luck at Payless. I'm not a fan of their adult shoes, but the kids' ones seemed to be decent quality, and I couldn't beat the price for shoes that may not make it to Spring, especially with the BOGO half-off deal. She was measured, and I chose some white mary janes for her, as well as a pair of beige suede T-strap mary janes for fall.

I created a monster.

This morning, we spent 45 minutes changing shoes, until I finally got smart and hid them.

I am not looking forward to high school.

She's got legs..., originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

These are her Nikes, a gift from her grandmother, who is planning to bronze them.

She is his.

MyHeritage: Look-alike Meter - Family search

Well, maybe 30% more mine, but still.

Tradeoff

Here you go, the money shot., originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Rowan had a rough weekend, and no amount of anything would make her happy. She'd be fine, then suddenly screaming bloody murder. We tried everything we could think of to make her happy, and nothing worked. Plus, she wouldn't sleep. No naps, no way.

She was cranky and exhausted. We were cranky and exhausted.

Finally, on Monday morning, I took her in to the doctor.

She had pink eye, even though her eyes were white as ever (but goopy, admittedly goopy). And? Ear infection. Both ears.

I felt like the worst mom in the whole wide world.

My poor baby.

I picked up her antibiotics, and even had the pharmacists add some extra watermelon flavor to make it extra special. (I love Target's pharmacy, and it's not just because my stepbrother and his wife-to-be work at one. Their packaging rocks, they are super nice and always remember us, and the list of flavors you can add is a smorgasbord of fun!)

And the next day? Back to the screaming bloody murder.

Turns out antibiotics can cause gooey, explosive diarrhea that doesn't smell like anything (really, like nothing), AND causes wicked, horrible, burning red diaper rash.

Worse than the worst mom in the world, yep, that's me.

So we are plowing through boxes of disposable diapers (I won't wreck my BumGeniuses with diaper rash cream), using the Boudreaux's Butt Paste like nobody's business (that stuff is great), blowing her dry between the wipe and the butt paste, and changing her what seems like every five minutes.

After 3 poopy diapers today, I thought I was safe. Then, she farted. And smiled at me.

When she stood up, there was corn trailing down her leg. Among other things. Down her leg, into her socks, and on the carpet.

Ugh.

I can't wait for these 10 days to be over.

C'est Moi.

C'est Moi., originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Just more cartoony.

And my ears don't stick out quite that much, but what can you do?

You can make your own here. The best part is all the cute translation errors from the Italian. Molto bene! (Yeah, that was probably totally wrong, too. I'm sorry if I just said something nasty! Heh.)

I Loves Me Spinach

I used to work at an awesome restaurant. It was local, had great beer and really good food, and the owners were super cool. The wages were decent, the tips were good, and people loved to go there, so generally were in a good mood. On Halloween, they let us wear costumes, so I waited tables in a jester costume and curly-toed slippers, complete with jingle bells.

One of their appetizers was my manna from heaven. Nearly every shift would end with a plate of it plus a cold pint of Summit Great Northern Porter, and since it has vegetables in it, I considered it a well-balanced meal. Heh.

I buttered up one of the cooks enough so he let me watch him make the industrial-sized batch for the restaurant one day, and then went home and tinkered with it until I came up with a home version that's just as good, and easy to make. I made some yesterday for Dr. B's "Beer Meeting", but doubled the batch so there would be leftovers for me. If we don't eat it all, it may become spinach enchiladas for supper one night, too.

After tweeting about it and receiving several requests for my recipe, and lots of nice birthday wishes that put me in a good mood, and a cake that Erin made me and even sent home with me (yes I am totally on sugar and cheese right now), I felt generous. So, here you go--my birthday present to you. Enjoy.

Ronica's Blue Moose Spinach Dip (Spinach Con Queso)

• 1 small onion, chopped
• 1 T. butter
• 1 small can chopped green chiles
• 1 10 oz. package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and drained well
• 1 lb. Pepper Jack cheese, cubed
• 8 oz. (+ to taste) dairy sour cream
• Seasoning mix of your choice (I use Tony Chachere's Original Creole Seasoning--it's delicious! Lawry's would probably be fine, too, or do a once around the kitchen.)

Sauté the onion in butter until softened. Add chiles and spinach and cook until any remaining liquid is gone. Season with seasoning salt, and add cheese, cooking and stirring over low heat until the cheese is melted. Stir in sour cream. Serve warm with tortilla chips or bread, and it tastes great with a pint of ale or porter on the side. Can be refrigerated and reheated, but you may need to add more sour cream to make it smooth again.

The Last "Now I Can..." Milestone

Birthday Cake, originally uploaded by PinkCakeBox.

As of today, I am officially old enough to run for President.

That's not a request for votes. But I will accept cake. Mmmm... cake.

Note: I am not 65. Just noticed that after I published this. Pretend they're swirlies.

Great Grandma

Ron, Ronica, Rowan, Grandma Sylvia and Grandpa Carl, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

My grandmother is in the hospital. She had a fall, and now they are struggling to get her blood pressure stabilized. She's been in for 2 days, after fainting in the beautician's chair.

If you would, please add her to your prayers or place her in your positive thoughts or send her your good vibes. She's a wonderful lady, and we want her back to her normal, sunny self as soon as possible.

Thank you!

My new kitchen

Flan and Bolero, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

I have promised to blog this, and never quite got around to it.

OK, that's a lie. My kitchen table was never clean enough.

So the day it was, I took this photo, and finally got around to uploading it. Rowan got a big new tooth yesterday, and decided not to sleep either, so today she is taking a good, long, overdue nap. Mommy gets to blog.

The colors are flan (the beige/peach color) and bolero (red, 4 coats.) The trim is the same, Saffron Ivory by Valspar. We painted the ceiling Marshmallow. All our colors are Sherwin Williams. We could have gone even warmer with the ceiling, but after priming and painting it twice, we were done.

Click through to go to my photostream and see a few other pics. I am still looking for cabinet pulls for the cabinets. Dr. B and I don't agree on these, so it will take a while. (It took 4 months for us to agree on a china pattern, and years to agree on a name for Rowan.) We tried brushed nickel, and it just looked drab. We might even go with some sort of irony-black ones, or coppery rust. But we haven't found the pulls yet. He wants modern, I don't think it will work with our furniture. So we're still looking.

BTW, you'll see a weird pic of the ceiling. Our ugly ceiling fan started falling down. Luckily, we realized it before anyone was decapitated. (Phew.) The do-it-yourselfer who owned this place didn't take into account the fact that a plastic holder-upper wouldn't support the weight of a heavy, stained glass ceiling fan. The one in Rowan's room is also starting to come down (obviously we aren't running the fan in there) so we have to hire an electrician to come fix it. Right now we're just living without a light directly over the table, and it's fine.

Oh well, maybe by that time I'll have picked out a better fixture. Heh.

Relief

Yesterday, Dr. B stayed a little later in the morning than usual, eating breakfast with us, and listening to Morning Edition, while he waited for the next bus. We sat on the couches, coffee cups in hand and with dueling laptops, while Rowan played with her toys a few feet away. Soon, she crawled over to her dad and stood up, hugging his knees and bouncing on the tips of her toes.

He laughed and talked with her for a few minutes. Then, she turned her face to the side and leaned against his kneecaps.

"Pew!" he said, "I think she already pooped."

"Nope," I answered. "She's doing it right now. She's got a rather zen look on her face."

Just then, she lifted her head, gave him a big smile, and let out a breath.

"Ahhhh!!!!"

Oh, what a relief it is.

Need

She must be teething. I know, I say that a lot. But really, this time I mean it. I can see 2 teeth just below the skin, she's drooling (a habit she gave up months ago), and she lights up when the Tylenol bottle or the Orajel tube are in sight. She's running a little warm--probably no more than 99, but her natural temp is like her mom's, at a cool 97.1. Her diapers have been, um, let's just call them interesting. She wants to be with me all the time, and with me means ON me, climbing over my feet (which was fine at 14 pounds, but at 22 it starts to hurt). She tries to scale my legs, and wants to be carried constantly. When I'm sitting on the couch, she wants to be, too, though would rather crawl around it, over the end table, and pull the batteries out of the remote control, chew on the computer cords, push the computer buttons and stick her fingers in the USB drives, chew on pens and pen caps, "read" mommy's library books, play with the shutter on the camera, pull kleenixes out of the box and eat them... you get the picture. All the toys in the world are boring except the stuff of ours she can destroy or hurt herself with. This is stuff she does all the time, but usually she can be distracted with toys. Not now. With brief exceptions (that Scooby Doo rubber ball was a smart buy), she is only interested in what we have that she can't. And, of course, her favorite pastime--shoving her fingers in our eyes and mouths. (I really, really hate that. Ick.)

She cries and cries and cries, unexplainedly, and then stops and laughs uproariously. Then, sweetly hugs a teddy and lies down on the carpet to rest. For about 12 seconds.

Last night, a nightmare or a pain woke her at 9:30, and despite several attempts by both mom and dad, she couldn't be consoled enough to sleep on her own. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and picked her up, carrying her over to the guest bed in her room. Within minutes, she was asleep in my arms. An hour and a half later, she was so deeply gone she didn't even flinch when I picked her up and put her in her own crib.

I may get frustrated. I may lose my patience. I may get angry. I may eat too many brownies. But last night, she showed me the thing I needed to hold on. She needs me. Just me. Angry, frustrated, worried, irritated, patient, loving, confused me. Her mom.

I'm not perfect, not by a long shot. I am not always a good mom. Sometimes I'm cranky. Snarky. Angry. But I will keep trying. I will be proud of myself when I am kind, when I am patient. I will feel good about the good things I am doing. I will forgive myself for the not-so-good, and try again.

Because no matter what, I'm the only one she's got. And that's enough.

TV People

We're not TV people.

OK, we'd like to say that, but the truth is we can be junkies. We'll go through times when we watch A LOT, then other times when the TV isn't turned on for days, at all. We read a lot, do quite a bit of surfing, and try to occupy ourselves constructively in and outside the house, but sometimes we do enjoy a good veg out in front of the boob tube. There are some series we love, so we do keep up with them in spurts when we have a free weekend. (Dr. Who, Torchwood, and anything SciFi for him, Mad Men, the Tudors, Big Love, and the defunct Meadowlands for me. OK, I admit it, I love Dr. Who and Torchwood, too.)(But his love of Stargate is just a sickness. Really. It's bad.)

Rowan hasn't been exposed much. DVD's she's received are still in their plastic packaging, and her attention span for TV is about 4 seconds, though the sound and music can calm her while she's playing, so sometimes Tom and Jerry make an appearance while she flings her toys around the living room and pushes her rolling seat around in a circle.

This morning, as her dad left for a doctor's appointment and I was left with a baby who got to bed way too late last night (party at a friend's in the country), I needed something to keep her from freaking out and breaking my breakfast dishes. For the first time, she was exposed to Sesame Street.

I miss the old theme song (the new one just doesn't have the same charm as those initial chords did), but it's still a good show. We jammed to the Dixie Chicks singing about the letter "B", watched Gordon practice golfing with Telly helping by adding water hazards, sand traps and a wind machine, and then this song came on. Rowan loved it, and we danced to it as it played and again after I found it on YouTube.




I'm a little airplane nyow
I'm a little airplane nyow, nyow
I'm a little airplane nyow
I'm a little airplane nyow, nyow
And wangity-wang, wangity-wang
I'm a little airplane NYOW!!!

I'm tired of doing laundry.

So I'd really like to win another 12 BumGenius 3.0's. I love these diapers, and I'm not a squeamish girlie-girl who can't handle seeing poop twice (yes, that's totally a dig on my stepsisterinlaw.) I feel better about the lack of diapers in the landfill, I love that my daughter never has diaper rash, and quite frankly she looks absolutely adorable in them. But really, I'd rather do a bigger load every 2 days than a small one every day. Pick me! Pick me!

RIP Estelle Getty

You gotta love a show that you love as much as your grandma does. Despite the hairdos and the pastel polyester, the comedy is timeless.

Cheers, Estelle. Say hi to mom for me.

PhD in Horribleness

If you haven't watched it yet, please go NOW. It disappears Sunday at midnight. If you're a fan of pulp horror, musicals, Neal Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion (that guy that was Caleb the really scary but hot preacher on Buffy) or comic books, you must see this. And learn all the songs, so you, too, can sing along.

For which you will be handed keys to a shiny new Australia.

Go. Go. GO NOW!

And somebody get me the t-shirt for my birthday, 'K?

My hand isn't broken.

Thank goodness. It happened yesterday; Lucy needed a tinkle break, and just as I opened the screen door, she saw a rabbit and took off. Full force running from a 60-lb. dog who's been sleeping all morning and the leash became a noose for my fingers. It feels like my middle finger is broken, but according to the X-rays it isn't, so I guess now I can't complain about my poor broken hand. "My sore hand" just doesn't have the same sympathy-gathering power. Sigh.

I was also fighting a migraine and possibly Rowan's bizarre virus, so couldn't even enjoy the collective 6 HOURS worth of nap Rowan took yesterday. I tried, but I felt so sucky I knew I wasn't even doing it justice. Dr. B took care of her after supper and let me veg out in front of the boob tube, locked in our bedroom. So at least they allowed me to fight it, so today I feel pretty decent. We did an Ollie's run, got gas and washed the car, and had the oil changed, too, before coming home for lunch. She's down for her nap now, and after we're going to run more errands that I couldn't do while she was sick.

The doc gave me a scrip for Prilosec for my swallowing and heartburn issues, so I'm planning on cashing in on that free $25 gift card from CVS. I'll later transfer it to Target, but hey, money is money, especially when it's free.

Man, I am starting to sound like an old lady. Next thing you know, I'll be telling you about my Lumbago and wearing a mumu.

Ah well. I do love Werther's Originals and a good cup of decaf.

Oh how I wish she was teething.

According to the nurse, she's not. The fever is too high and the symptoms she has don't line up, so she is likely fighting a virus. After 4 days, we should take her in, but for now as long as she is screaming, that's good.

Well, that's what she said. I don't particularly agree, but...

So I'm running on very little, interrupted sleep, my house is a mess, and I can't do much because I am exhausted and she needs me all the time. If I walk from the room, she flips. She threw a fit when I tried to bathe her (which she normally loves) and she won't eat much more than a bit of fruit and cheese. She's nursing a lot, drinking lots of water, chugging down the Tylenol like nobody's business, and peeing a LOT. (I know, that's good, too, but it's not always so enjoyable when it goes down your pant leg.)

So if you're not busy, please send good vibes her way.

And, if you would, please put in a prayer for my friends MagE and Sarah, their family, and especially her dad, Bruce, and the doctors and nurses who are operating on him right now. He has Ossification of Posterior Longitudinal Ligament or OPLL, which basically means the ligament that runs the length of the spine is calcifying in the neck or cervical spine area and is squeezing his spinal column. He's in the midst of a 12-hour surgery right now, and it's very serious. I wish I could be there to support my friends right now, but at least I can ask for those who will to add a little umph to my pleas.

Red!

It took 4 coats, but my Bolero red wall is finally done, and the other walls are looking gorgeous in their pale, peachy-beigey-light-tannish color. (Flan! It's Flan!) The Handi-Tak yellow is finally history, and we painted the ceiling a clean, pure white. Tomorrow I will touch up the trim, and hang new electric plates on the walls. I'm really looking forward to having everything done and put away, so I can get back to normal in this house! I'm glad to be done with the red paint--it looks gorgeous, but I had the icky feeling that someone, poking through our garbage, may wonder if I was a serial killer or something. Going on, it looked like ketchup, cleaning up resembled surgery, and the rags in the trash looked rather, um, frightening. But it's done, and it looks fabulous, if I do say so myself. It fits our home, our personalities, and our furniture so much better than that sickening, migraine-inducing yellow.

We decided not to paint the cabinets after all. In discussing it with my FIL, he thought it would affect resale (though the cheap, tacky cabinets we have are not my idea of a big boon to the selling price), and he didn't think everyone would share our taste. (What??? Crazy talk.) But the decision was finally made when he said, "it'll take you the rest of the summer." OK, that's decided then. I still hate them, but I don't want to live on paper plates and take-out for 2 months, so they stay as is. (Or until I win that lottery I never play and get all brand-new cabinets put in by professionals, that is.)

I still want to replace the light fixtures, but the ones that are there are less obnoxious than they were with yellow walls, so it can wait a little while. I haven't decided on cabinet pulls, but those will be changed, too. We also have to order curtains for the living room and our bedroom, choose final colors and paint our bedroom, and buy and install shelving in the laundry room. The never-ending saga of homeownership...

I promise to post pictures when we get it all done and everything put back where it's supposed to be. Please be patient!!! I'll get some up, soon--well, as soon as it's cleaned up and the laundry is done, that is.

In other news, we spent yesterday afternoon at the Arts Fest in town. Found a great little wooden truck for Rowan (which she loves playing with) and a gift for someone who reads this so I'm not going to elaborate but let's just say someone in North Dakota is going to love what they're getting for Christmas. And if they don't, I'll take it because I love it. And I wish I was super-rich and could buy one for everyone I know. OK then.

It was hot, but Rowan enjoyed a bit of time playing with her new truck in the grass and sharing crackers with a caramel colored standard poodle named Toulouse, while some sort of bugs crawled up my shorts and had a feast on the backs of my thighs. We walked around, checking out the booths and people-watching, while Dr. B had a meeting with his student. When he was with us, I noticed that he was greeted by many university kids. "You must be a good teacher, if the students say hello to you in the street," I said. After going home, laying Rowan down for a nap, and pouring a cool drink, two of his other students called and said they had a gift for him. They stopped by and joined us on the patio, bringing with them an adorable Life is Good monkey blanket (they think it's hilarious that Dr. B calls Rowan "Evil Monkey".) You don't see students bringing gifts to professors they hate--so this is proof. He is very good at what he does!

We had supper, and Rowan threw a fit mid-meal. A shot of Tylenol seemed to help, but it reared again, so I gave her a finger full of Orajel, and she stopped crying right away. (I couldn't find my teething tablets, but those were next.) At 3 AM, she woke us up. I sent Dr. B in to soothe her (if I go in, she usually needs to nurse to calm down, but if he goes in, she'll go back to sleep without it.) He said she was hot, so I came in to take her temp while he went down to lower the temperature on the thermostat. She was running around 100.8 or so (she kicked out the thermometer before it really finished, but it was right around there), so we gave her more Tylenol, I nursed her, and she slept with me while Dr. B took up residence in the guest bedroom (for as small as she is, she takes up a lot of space in our bed.) She slept until after 8, and woke without a fever but in a good mood. Off and on today she was fussy and warm, and really had a hard time at dinner once again, despite doses of Tylenol and teething tablets. Her fever at 8 PM was 102.4, so the teething is wreaking havoc with her system. Poor little bug. She's going to sleep with me tonight, and Dr. B will again take the guest bed.

Speaking of which, it is getting late and I've finished my book, so I better head to bed myself. 3 AM comes early...

Motorboat

Motorboat, originally uploaded by TeecNosPos.

When the breastfeeding Mom eats Kashi GoLean Crunch and then feeds her daughter broccoli for lunch, the power could be harnessed to propel a small watercraft (with dual motors).






Thanks to TeecNosPos for the illustration.

I have no cute stories for you today.

Sorry.

Been waiting to be inspired, and it's just not happening. But, stuff is happening, just nothing very anecdotal or cute or funny.

So I'll just make a list of sorts. Take from it what you will. There will be NO FLOW and the grammar is going to be bad. Don't say I didn't warn you.
*****************************************************

Yesterday was Dr. B's birthday. I sent out an email to various area friends to meet for wings and beer if they wanted to come to Quaker Steak and Lube. 25 people showed up. We had no idea we had that many friends here. It was great. Dr. B was thrilled. (And to those who didn't show up, you missed a heck of a par-tay.)

Rowan has 5 teeth now, so she looks less like Vampire Baby. Waiting on #6. She's been really growing lately (30" and 21 lbs. 2 oz) and is looking really leggy. This is bizarre for the two stumpy people who are her parents. She's in the 75% for height and 50% of weight and head size. This is a relief to her ginormous-headed mother. Maybe she'll be able to wear hats someday.

But she hates hats. Rips them off her head and the heads of anyone in her reach who is wearing one. She also hates glasses and sunglasses. Sometimes, she hates her shirt and we find her topless. She has to wear some sort of diaper-covering item, because she has figured those out and likes to remove them and let her cheeks wave in the breeze whenever possible. She is like her father: she loves naked time.

I love the spray sunscreen for babies. I can put it all in her hair (no hats) and if you don't touch it, it dries eventually and doesn't plaster her hair down and make her look like a Guido.

Her latest game involves crawling at lightening speed while you chase her and screaming with laughter. She also likes tossing a ball over her head and behind her, and pushing her chair for her little play table around in a circle. That's pretty funny, too. She's eating everything we are (cut into tiny pieces) and especially loves ice cream. She's also big on chocolate graham crackers, but really makes a mess with those so they are confined to the high chair. She loves her fruits and veggies, and will leave the pasta/potato/rice starchy items and chow down on the green beans or red peppers. She loves black olives, too.

Our living room carpet smells really doggy. Tomorrow I am renting one of those machines to shampoo it. Maybe with next year's tax rebate we'll put down hardwoods in the living room. We now have a take-down shower head so it is my new shower head resolution to bathe the dog more often. (With a bucket, it just sucks, and I didn't do it enough this winter.)

We are choosing paint colors. For our bedroom, I think we're going to do a wall of chocolate brown with some sort of creamy beige elsewhere. The carpet is blue, and that has to stay. Our coverlet/bedding is a pale champagne color. May do a pink pillow or something for a pop.

The kitchen will be a pale peachy-beige (called "flan"). We're going to do the ceiling back to white and paint our cabinets. Bottoms will be a barn red ("bolero!") and the top ones will be some sort of creamy white. Not nailed down yet. Have to go into Sherwin Williams again. This is a pic from their color visualizer. The red wall is Bolero and the beige wall is Flan (it looks darker in our kitchen). Right now it is Handi-Tak Yellow and makes me want to gouge out my eyeballs with a cocktail fork.

Dr. B's folks are coming this weekend. They said they'd help paint, and they are bringing beer from "out west" as our friends here call where we're from. We love them so much. Heh.

Rowan's sleep patterns have been weird lately. Some days, 1 nap, some 2, some 3. Some days she wants to nap at supper time and then stays up really late. One night, she was up until 11. Some days, she won't sleep unless we drive. We ate supper 2 hours away last week just to get her to sleep, after hours of yelling (by her). I also sat in the parking lot at Walmart reading my book to get her to sleep at all the following day (again with the yelling until I had driven 2 blocks and then she was dead to the world). Then, weird days like today, she passes at 12:30 (I hadn't even given her lunch) and sleeps until 4. That's 3 and a half hours!!! She was so happy when she woke up, I put her in a fancy dress and took her for portraits. Can't let that opportunity pass. She even smiled for them!

I'm ticked at Bloglines. It's not working for crap.

I got milk at the Meyer Dairy. It tastes so good I can't stop drinking it. I have to go get more. I ran out of 2% and I'm afraid I'll like the whole milk too much. (We buy it for yogurt making and for Rowan.) I'm not just saying this because it comes in cool, refillable 1950's style glass bottles, either. Though that's a perk.

We got our school district taxes bill today. Ugh.

I love our library. I am reading a lot, and really enjoying it. Gotten into the Ursula Blanchard mysteries. Not as good as Cadfael, but Ellis Peters is dead so I'm out of luck on that one. I'd love some good book recommendations.

Lightening bugs are out. I love that, though it weirds me out a tiny bit. I keep seeing them out of the corner of my eye and thinking someone is sneaking up on me.

Walking Lucy the other night, our neighbors invited us over for burgers. I'd only met them once before. Really nice people. Our age, 2 kids (one is Rowan's age.) That was cool.

Went to a music festival downtown with friends and heard Chicken Tractor. What a name for a band. We ate strange nachos and tried to teach their son to drink from a straw like Rowan. We failed. But he's really cute.

Lucy needs to be shaved again, but I really don't want to do it.

I bought a hose and cleaned our patio really well. There was major crud between the fenceposts. It's much nicer now. We got a little gas grill and small patio set with our tax $, and I hung up some lights. It's all festive now! I love eating out there, and we do even when we don't grill. It's just so pleasant.

I think I'm going to color my hair. I can't deal with it anymore--it's so mousy. A friend's kid described it as "kind of tan". I don't want kind of tan hair! Never went back after the pregnancy, so I give up. Plus, it has pretty much stopped growing. I don't have any idea why, but it just isn't getting any longer. It gets bushier, but not longer. Very weird. Trying to decide if I should go blonder or get crazy and go red. But would I look too much like Cynthia Nixon? That is not my intention. (I used to get that a lot, that I looked like her. I don't agree.)

I put up new pics on Flickr. A few from the Hershey Factory tour (fake tour--plastic candy and pumped in chocolate smell while cows sang at you. It was rather trippy.) and some others.

I am finding more and more old friends on Facebook. Crazy. Neat, though. I just wish I could find my old college roommate. So if you know Jennifer Olson from Hibbing who is/was a pilot for Mesaba, tell her to look me up. (You wouldn't believe how many Jennifer Olsons there are in the world.)

I made Dr. B his favorite cake for his birthday: Yellow cake from a box with chocolate frosting from a can. I even did the layer thing so it looked JUST LIKE THE BOX. It doesn't taste that good, but I'm dutifully eating it anyway. What I do for my husband...

I am re-watching season 1 of Mad Men and eagerly awaiting season 2.

OK, it's late and I have a feeling she'll be up early, so I'm off to turn off the outside fairy lights and go to bed. Hopefully I'll be inspired soon and have some lovely little story to tell you, but for now, this is all you get.

Have a good Tuesday!

Music Geek

It's proven.

On a walk with Lucy and Rowan, we met a new dog. I asked her name.

"Joplin, her name's Joplin," her mom said.

"OH! How cool! Joplin, like Scott Joplin, the famous ragtime composer who wrote the Maple Leaf Rag!" I said, happily scratching the little mutt behind the ears.

There was some uncomfortable silence. Then I looked up, noting Joplin's mom's long hair, broomstick skirt, tank top, and earth shoes.

"Oh. Or like Janis Joplin."

"Yeah. I've never heard of the other guy," she answered.

"Well? If it weren't for Scott, Rock 'n' Roll probably would have never existed!" I cried, desperately trying to backpedal.



This is why I will never be one of the cool kids.

The Sun shines out his...

I am very proud of my husband. Read here to see what he's been up to lately.

Groovy Girl

Rowan dancing to "Un rayon de soleil".
Originally uploaded by MrsBinParis

Checking up on my blogs today, I listened to a tune Vivi had posted. While it was playing, Rowan started to dance. I grabbed my phone to record her in action, and after a second or two of staring at me, she again caught the groove, and started to "sing" along.

She loves to dance, with or without help, and will groove to anything from the Brandenberg Concerti to AC/DC to French pseudo-Zydeco to commercials and cell-phone ringtones. We played it again and two-stepped around the room. She tired herself out so much, she's down for a nap.


*Note: I proved what a geek I am in that I just spent five minutes trying to decide if it should be 'concertos' or 'concerti'. I went with the Italian, but do also have a good argument for the English version.

Meeting

More soon, but this is from our visit with her cousin of sorts (my first cousin's daughter) in Hershey, PA. I'll get more on the ball soon and get my photos uploaded, but here's a clip. Rowan was determined to give Lilia kisses, and spent the first half hour trying to do just that.

Clean

Rowan and I spent two lovely weeks visiting family back in North Dakota (doncha know), while Dr. B toiled away here, sneaking back for a quick 1-day visit. While I was gone, he kept me updated by phone with what was going on and lots of "how do you..." questions. Basically, he was bored and not eating very well, so he did projects around the house. "It's really a mess around here," he said one night, "I need to straighten up. I leave a lot of crap around when you're not here to pick up or yell at me and when I don't have to worry about Rowan." He promised to pick up and even vacuum for me before I got home, something I had wanted to do before we left but hadn't had the chance until she was asleep (and then didn't want to take a chance on waking her).

We arrived late, collapsing on the sofa (Rowan in the crib) and ignored the house the next day while we celebrated Father's Day. Then Monday came, and I began the big clean-up. I cleaned both bathrooms, mopped the floors (twice, because they were really bad--it had been a while), cleaned the kitchen and started the laundry. I vacuumed the entire house, emptying the canister several times, and put away clothes and various other junk we brought with us.

Dr. B came home.

"Wow! The floor looks... like a floor!" He said. "And the bathroom sink! How did you get it so shiny?"
"I cleaned it. That's what soap does. It leaves a film."
"Is that why you clean it so often?"
"Yeah, that would be why."
"Huh. Well. Um, I don't have any pants for tomorrow. Or underwear. Except the ones I don't like. The skeevy ones."
"Did you do any laundry while I was gone?"

He paused.

"Yes!" he said, with a big grin. "I washed some towels!"

I guess he does need me.

Overwhelming

We're back. The trip was great, and we had an awesome time with family and friends. We survived a very long day of traveling that went surprisingly well, considering the horrid situation (an hour of driving, four airports, three flights with a baby, arriving home at 11PM). Prayers were said faithfully as we taxied down the runway, and Mom/Grandma Judeen intervened, including good baby behavior for most of the flights (save a bit of crying during #2 when she was too tired to function.) Though I got stuck in the very back of the plane in front of the stinky bathroom and penned in by the college student who was way too cool to even acknowledge our existence (I hope she gives birth to triplets with colic who turn into ungrateful teenagers and no one gives her any help EVER), Rowan was a doll and played happily with the window shade, safety cards, airplane magazines, and barf bags and I managed to keep her from pulling the hat off the guy in front of us (I should have let her--jerk put his seat back, leaving me with exactly 3 centimeters of breathing room--breathing the stale air and odorific air-toilet stank). But we made it home, she went to bed, and I consumed mucho chocolate and a glass of wine and caught up with Dr. B. Father's day was spent recovering, and today I've been busy cleaning, doing laundry, and thinking about going grocery shopping. Admittedly, there's a looooooong way to go, but at least I've made a dent. Two weeks away leaves a lot of things undone, and it's not like I left the place spotless and in perfect order when we went. But I'll get to it.

Rowan is still down for a nap, which was much needed, and I've been surfing so as not to wake her (and because I was tired. I did 2 bathrooms, 3 loads of laundry, and cleaned the kitchen this morning, and then made and cleaned up lunch from the empty cupboards when Dr. B biked home to join us.) She had a bit of a meltdown prior, after being scolded for unrolling a full roll of TP, and sobbed and hiccuped herself to sleep in my arms. So, I've been catching up on my reading. Apologies to all my blog buddies--I skimmed. I had over 3500 entries to read. I just couldn't face it. If something really, really important happened in your life that you want me to know about, please email me. I may have missed it.

And now I need to comb my hair for the trip to the store that's quite necessary.

And of course, now the thunderstorm hits. Guess Mom's busy elsewhere. Sigh.

Father's Day

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

A tender moment with a 7 year old.

Aunt LaR: "We're sure going to miss you guys when you leave tomorrow."

Cousin #2 of 4: "Yeah, me too. Especially Rowan."

He sighs and looks wistfully around the room. I smile, expecting a hug, or a nice statement about how great his new cousin is, or maybe even both. A pained look crosses his face.

"Who farted?"

Vacation (have to get away)

Scene: a few months ago. I was helping Dr. B pack for a business trip.

Dr. B: Shirts? Check. Pants? Check. Sport coats, ties. Yep. Socks? 5 pairs. OK, we're good. Underwear?

Me: Here you go.

He began counting because he had accidentally not packed enough on his last trip and had to rewear. Ew.

Dr. B: One, two, three... wait. There's 7. I'm only going for 5 days.

Me: I always pack at least an extra pair.

Dr. B: For what? In case I shit my pants?

Me: Uh, well, yeah. I mean, you never know. What if you eat a curry or something and it just gets nasty? And it's humid so if you wash out in the sink they don't dry and then you have to wear nasty wet shorts and ick! Or just go commando, and because of the curry you really don't want to do that...

Dr. B: So, I've got two extras. That means I can shit my pants twice?

Laundry is going, lists have been made, and the packing is waiting. We take off tomorrow. Rowan and I are flying back to Norski-land for 2 weeks, and Dr. B will join us for his folks' 40th anniversary BBQ. Unfortunately, he can't stay, but we will spend some time there because we can and because it's cheaper for us to stay around than to fly back immediately. We'll start in Bismarck (Dad is driving to Fargo to pick me up, because it wasn't originally in the plans when I made the reservations) and then hitch a ride with my SIL and nieces and nephews to Grand Forks on Thursday. Big party, water park, Rowan's birthday--fun plans. And hopefully, a chance to see a few old friends from our college years.

And (here's the shocker) I'm planning on leaving my laptop at home. *GASP!* I know, it's hard, but I just can't do the airport with a baby that is hell bent on going going going plus all the security crap and the weight. Both families have computers, several each actually, so I'll be able to check my mail and stuff, but may not post as often. I'll be too busy sitting in the hot tub, shooting pool, eating some Fighting Sioux Champion Chip ice cream (Dick, you better stock up!) and dunking chips in my favorite Blue Moose spicy spinach cheese dip. (I have the recipe, but I still enjoy going there for a bowl, plus my favorite beer of all time on tap. I hope it's still on tap.) Though my 'to take' list is already two columns long, I'm going to try to limit the stuff, and do laundry while there. I usually pack enough for three armies (with extra underwear), so I'm going to try to be more conservative about it. It is civilization after all, and they have Target there. And Old Navy, for which Coinstar and Dr. B's pockets gave me a lovely gift card, so I do plan on hitting it hard. (Aside to the Old Navy people: we NEED one in State College. There's a good spot right next to Target.)

The trip wasn't expected or planned originally, but we are so glad we have the chance to go and spend some more time with our families. So, if you're reading this from Bismarck or Grand Forks, we'll be there soon! Give us a buzz!

One Word

Recently, a friend emailed me wanting me to describe her in one word, and pass it on to everyone I know, waiting for responses from all of them.

I didn't.

I was a little scared of the words people would use to describe me. (She responded with "classy" which I liked so I just stuck with the one response.)

Now, MamaBear hits me with this one. OK, I'll bite! Repost it if you want--and send the link, because I'd love to read them!

*****


YOU CAN ONLY TYPE ONE WORD!

Not as easy as you might think. Change the
answers to suit you and pass it on. It's really hard to only use one
word answers.


1. Where is your cell phone? charging

2. Your significant other? wonderful

3. Your hair? frustrating

4. Your mother? Heaven

5. Your father? Williston

6. Your favorite thing? food

7. Your dream last night? forgotten

9. Your dream/goal? happiness

10. The room you're in? cluttered

11. Your hobby? reading

12. Your fear? loneliness

13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? France! :)

14. Where were you last night? library

15. What you're not? zen

16. Muffins? Delicious!

17. One of your wish list items? pedicure

18. Where you grew up? Fargo

19. The last thing you did? read

20. What are you wearing? jeans

21 Your TV? dusty

22. Your pets? important

23. Your computer? overused

24. Your life? chosen

25. Your mood? excited

26. Missing someone? always

27. Your car? hybrid!

28. Something you're not wearing? socks

29. Favorite store? Target

30. Your summer? anticipated

31. Like someone? Most

32. Your favorite color? red

33. When is the last time you laughed? today

34. Last time you cried? forgotten

35. Who will repost this???? You!

Du Pain Américan

Dr. B called at 5 PM. "I'm on my way home! Grab the girl, and let's go to the farmers' market!" Unfortunately, she had just gone down for a nap, so when he arrived (he'd had the car all day), he told me to go to the market before it closed at 6. I didn't expect much fresh produce to be left, but picked up some honey, apples, and eggs from the Amish couple, and then headed over to the bakery stand. After a sample, I chose something delicious to bring home.

"I got some bread!" I said, "Chocolate bread with walnuts and golden raisins! AND it has chocolate butter!!!"

"Chocolate butter?" Dr. B said.

He sliced a hunk for each of us, and slathered it thickly with the scrumptious creamy spread.

"Chocolate butter. So pretty much frosting."

"Yeah. So?"

"Fine with me," he said, and took a big bite.

Bye-bye, Poop Smell!!!*

When I was a kid, my dad would sometimes get into these moods. Mom called them "Handy Andy" moods--he'd decide something had to be done, fixed, or upgraded and usually the results were less than desirable. One weekend at the lake cabin, he decided the little electric heater we only used once every three years was too noisy. After about 3 hours "fixing" it, during which it exploded in his face and singed off his eyebrows and eyelashes, he left it, cover off with two screwdrivers sticking out of it. "Done!" he said. The screwdrivers stayed there for the rest of the summer and fall. I guess they don't teach you how to fix little heaters in Master Electrician/Electrical Engineering school.

This weekend, when Dr. B, who is decidedly not an electrician, uttered the fatal words, "I'm gonna do a project!" I got a little scared.

All of a sudden the bathrooms both had fans that were too noisy, inefficient and energy-wasting. And of course, it would be easy to do. Simple. No problem! He found the perfect fan. Energy efficient! Quiet!! And extremely, incredibly effective!!!

"It'll clear a fart from the room in 3 seconds FLAT!!!"**

Whatever.

After assuring me that this was absolutely necessary and I would be so happy he'd done it, he headed off to Lowe's.

8 hours, 2 more trips to Lowe's, 500 bucks and a hole in my kitchen ceiling later, it was finally done.***

Oh well, at least he'll have to repaint the kitchen for me now.




*Yes, I am 14 years old. I am still giggling.

**Turns out he was right. It really does suck the poop smell right outta there!!! No more need for candles and a box of matches--we've got Dr. B's ultra-mega-poop-stink-sucking Fan!!!)

***Well, the downstairs one was. He's saving the other one for next weekend. But of course, the cover is off and I have to look at the dirty nastiness that is inside the old one for a week. I could clean it, but meh.

With Crap Extract for Extra Crappy Flavor

I went into the "Oriental" Grocery next to Blockbuster the other night, looking for curry paste and some snackins for our movie night.  I wandered through the isles, noting that most of the food was not in English or French or anything I could read.  Note to self: must be an authentic "Oriental" grocery (the American version of the word, not the French, which would refer to Arabic stuff).  I was floored by the huge display of one-serving sized bags of poofy crispy strangely-flavored and oddly-shaped snacks, and thrilled by the bizarre characters on the packaging.  This particular little yellow whale with a crown and a knowing smirk caught my eye.

Then I read the ingredients. Please note the next-to-last one.

 

You know I had to buy it.  And actually, it was quite delicious.  Good crap!

Blogged with the Flock Browser

She was Lassie in a former life

As I posted earlier, Rowan has got the stair-climbing bug. I planned to buy a new gate the other night, but due to the fact that my brain was completely fried, I forgot to get one when I went to Walmart after supper (teething=Mommy with no brain cells functioning at 9 pm). We had friends over for supper yesterday, so I spent the day cleaning and preparing the various things for tacos with rice and beans during Rowan's naps, and didn't find time to get to the store. Today, with a clean house and a fridge full of leftovers, I knew I had to get one, and while I was at it, needed to scan in some old photos for a gift for my in-laws that my SIL is working on and refill some prescriptions, so decided we'd head to Target once we were both up and clean.

Rowan took a nice long nap from noon-2:20, during which I had a shower, my own lunch, and even dried my hair and put on some makeup. (Woot!) She woke up, and I fed her some lunch (she loves meatballs, potatoes and peas, just like her Norski Momma!) and gave her a bath. After dressing her, I ran upstairs to look for my thumb drive for the photos, carefully placing the gate at the bottom, and making sure the tension was as tight as I could get it. While digging through various little baskets and boxes of small crap you don't throw but really probably don't need (buttons, collar points, chapsticks, etc.), I heard Rowan let out a cry.

"You're fine, Rowan," I called, knowing she couldn't have done herself much harm.

She cried a little more, then it got quiet. I kept digging through the baskets, loading change into a Zippie to take to the Coinstar, and wondering why we saved all this junk (but not throwing it either.)

Then I heard a sharp BARK!

A sick feeling of dread came over me.

I ran to the upstairs gate, and there was Rowan, climbing over the tension gate, which had fallen on her, determinedly headed for the stairs.

Lucy got an extra cookie with peanut butter on it, and lots of kisses and praise.

And when I got home with the new gate, Rowan had to be put in baby jail in order for me to set it up, because she made a beeline for those stairs every time she was set down.

We'll just call her our little lemming*.



(*Yes, I know it's a Disney Hoax, but just go with me on this one. This kid has either got a death wish, or Danger is her middle name. And it's not. It's Amelia.)

Speedbaby

I had a few things to do. Toothpaste to put in the linen closet, a pair of socks to stick in a drawer, something else--nothing important, all quick. I didn't think it was a big deal to leave the gate down at the bottom of the stairs. Rowan was playing with her toys, Lucy was snoozing next to the couch.

Two minutes, that's all it took--two minutes.

I guess this is proof that my daughter really loves me and wants to be with me all of the time.

In those two minutes, my 11 1/2 month old daughter climbed 10 stairs.

She didn't fall, thank God (and with some serious help from her guardian angels, I'm sure). But I'll be buying one of those more permanent type gates with a door for the bottom of the stairs, too. And pronto. Yikes.

I love Gay Carrington

Why isn't Hollywood like this anymore? I'd rather watch a plastic doll talk than anything Lindsay Lohan stars in...

Saving NRG

My husband is admittedly Obsessive-Compulsive. He has high standards, and is as stubborn as a goat. Yes, I love this about him, but it also drives me nuts. Once he decides something is better, that becomes the law, and we can never do it another way again.

I can't buy cheaper coffee, because he prefers the fancy-whole-bean-freshly-roasted-ground-seconds-before-brewing-stuff, which he must go through a very careful ritual of preparing. This means that I never make the coffee, because he has decided that his way is best, and even if I do it EXACTLY the SAME WAY it won't be good enough because I probably didn't put the precise amount of pressure on the grounds when I tamped them which is unnecessary for an automatic drip but he's decided it's better so it has to be done. (Why yes, he's insane! Welcome to my life.) We must have the freshest of the fresh and the strongest of the strong and everyone who doesn't share our taste is a WIMP!!! If he prefers it slightly, we must have it because there's NO GOING BACK!!! It took 2 years for him to accept the fact that I'm not going to go out every single day to buy $4 loaves of fresh bread that's not even as good as what we got in France, because he had it in France and it was better so that's how it has to be!!! (Why yes, the urge to beat him over the head with a baguette has a strong hold on me...)

Then, the recession hit, we chose for me to stay home with Rowan, we had new bills for student loans and a car and a mortgage and he found out that one salary doesn't go as far as he dreamed it would. We had to cut corners. This was not easy for him. He got angry because the cupboards weren't filled with his favorite foods all the time, and he couldn't just go to the store and buy fresh croissants and cheeses imported from Spain and French wine because it wasn't in the food budget anymore. I made him eat potatoes (oh the horror!) and didn't spend hours preparing his favorite dishes because I was busy raising our daughter. Sometimes, dinner included corn. CORN! And we're not talking organic sweet corn roasted in the husks over mesquite briquettes--it was frozen, out of a bag. This was torture to him. So I began to get crafty, knowing his OCD nature, and to give new justifications for things. And it was working.

"I'm only going to the grocery store once a week, because it doesn't make any sense to waste the gas for several trips when I can plan ahead and go once. So if we're out of something, you can just be patient until the next trip." (Which means "Suck it up. So we're out of chips. Big whoop. You don't need them anyway.")

And

"I didn't get any cheeses, because they were all from so far away and required so many fossil fuels to bring them to us. I just thought that was too wasteful and bad for the environment."

So, he eats Vermont cheddar. And he likes it! You see where I'm going with this? Yeah, you could call me a loca lova volca local-food eater, but if I claimed that he would start to demand that everything we ate be grown within 25 miles of our door, and it would just get obsessive and overly expensive and I don't even want to go there. (I'll buy local when I can, promise.)

So we're doing things, a little at a time, and it's making a difference in our budget, and hopefully the environment, too. But still, we found our electricity bill rather high. He started doing research (again obsessively) and declared we had to sell our upright freezer. I suggested we start by unplugging it. Then, we had to replace the fridge. Which is a year old. He did more research, and found there would be no reason for that. He checked every appliance in the house. Nope, all new, all efficient. We got an estimate on replacing the windows. Holy big chunk of change, Batman. Nope, not gonna happen, so we looked into thermal curtains. We already had switched to CFL's, and I suggested he lower the temperature on the water heater. But still, it was bothering him. He knew there was something else that could be done that would magically fix the high electricity bill.

Last night, I had a dream that I walked in the bathroom and he had removed the light fixture from the wall.

"It's so you don't have the temptation to turn on the light," he said. "We can pee in the dark!"

I woke up soon after and told him about it.

"Sounds like something I'd do," he said.

That's it. I'm hiding his tools.

I call my baby nasty names.

Before Rowan was born, we called her Zizou. She kicked like a soccer player, so it really did fit. Since she showed up, she's been labeled a lot of things. Sweetpea, Starshine, Sweetie, Honey, Pea (not to be confused with Pee), Pooper (well, yeah, that's gross, but at least it's only one icky nickname), Sunshine, Sugar, Sugar-Booger, Booger (OK, 2 more icky nicknames), Boog, Punkin, Stinker, Evil Monkey, Pickle, Sweaty Betty, Stinky and probably another forty or fifty names that I can't think of right now.

Today, she earned a new one. She got a new tooth.

But it's not in the usual, cute place mirroring her bottom two that came in a few months ago.

Nope, not our girl. I guess having a dog has influenced her. The new one? It's a canine.

So now, she's Fang.

I don't care if my Mother's Day gift is insulting.

mother and daughter, originally uploaded by pomegranates.

Happy Mother's Day, to all you other mothers out there. I hope you had a great one!

Today, for me, was wonderful. I was remembered by friends and family (which was wonderful), and Dr. B treated me like a queen. He may not have showered me with cards and flowers (fine with me), but he tried to do things that were really meaningful.

OK, yeah, I did have a little something to do with that.

Last night, before bed, I got to thinking. The night before, I had about 4 hours sleep total. Rowan took a long time to go down, and woke at 5:30 and decided she was up. Period. We were having a friend over to BBQ, so her nap time was not available to me because I was getting the house and food ready. I was worn out. When our friend left, we all lied down for a nap. Rowan's was about an hour. Dr. B slept for about 3 1/2 hours. By the time I got to lie down (as soon as I could after our friend left), I got a stinkin' 30 minutes. I was wiped.

So, I said to Dr. B, "since tomorrow's Mother's Day, if Rowan wakes up at 5 AM, can you go deal with her?" He agreed immediately, and we headed up to bed.

At 1:30 AM, she started crying.

"But it's not even 2 yet!" he yelled, sitting up with a start.

I smiled and rolled over, and relished the fact that I didn't have to get up. "She doesn't care what time it is," I said.

He headed into her room, quieted her, and slept with her in his arms in the guest bed, while I stretched out in our big bed and fell back to sleep.

This morning, he brought her in to nurse at 7. When she was done, I brought her down to where he was in the kitchen making himself breakfast, handed her over, and turned to go back to bed. A bit panicked, he asked for help making her breakfast first. I warmed her oatmeal, pulled out the tofu and applesauce to mix in, and handed him the spoon. I honestly don't remember climbing the stairs.

At 9:30, he came in and handed her to me again, and said he needed a shower. I held and played with her until he was done. Then I handed her back, and went back to sleep until 10:48.

This was payback for that 3 1/2 hour nap.

Soon after I woke, she went down for her morning nap, and Dr. B joined her. I ate a little chocolate for breakfast (diets don't exist on Mother's Day), read my email and blogs, and took a shower. After a nice lunch (I cooked! On Mother's Day! Above and beyond the call of duty, I tell you...) we got ready and went out. We did a little shopping, and then drove to Selin's Grove, Pennsylvania for dinner at the Selin's Grove Brewpub (very good--great beer, and their spinach artichoke dip is to die for!)

I had more trouble getting her to bed tonight, so I sent Dr. B up to finish her off. (Lately, I will get her to sleep, but as soon as my toe crosses the threshold to leave, she wakes up and screams. After 4 such episodes, I needed to call in reinforcements.) While he laid down with her again (and fell asleep--he's still up there), I played with my new toy, my Mother's Day gift. Some people might think this is an insulting present, but I am completely and utterly thrilled with it. I chose it myself, and I know it will make my life easier. Yes, I have things that do this already, and yes this is another appliance that I really didn't *need*, and yes it is an energy sucker and wasteful, but I don't care. It works. It sucks. All those stupid little bits that are everywhere right now and driving me nuts, sucked up with no bending and scraping. And it spits and wipes, so hopefully she won't have grungy knees on her sleepers anymore. It makes cleaning easier. And easier means less stressful, which to me is as valuable as a day at the spa. Yay for insulting presents that make my life easier!!!

Happy Mom's Day!


***Illustration by pomegranates on flickr, creative commons licensed. Please check out her other stuff!!! And thanks, pomegranates, for licensing it for use and letting me blog it!

Hungry Camera

After taking a few photos and videos, my memory card came up full. Full? It's huge! This was a red flag, so I hooked it up and started to dig around rather than just letting iPhoto do its thing, and I found a bunch of videos stuck on my camera that never got put in my computer for some reason. Last night I transfered them to my computer, but fearing a crash (it would be my luck) I wanted to save them somewhere else. Can't lose those precious gurgles, after all.

Enter Flickr, who now stores video, too (though there are a few longer ones it won't take.) I'm busy loading them to the site, and need to do some serious editing as it says they were all taken yesterday, for some reason not being able to access the date they were actually filmed.

Looking back, it's hard to believe she was really that little, hairless, and helpless. The whirling dervish is now called Hurricane Rowan, and has real, actual hair (not just the downy fluff) sprouting from her noggin--pale, blonde and straight just like her Maman. She's grown gradually noisier, stronger, and more purposeful, and it's amazing for me especially to watch these, because the little changes meld into one another for me. Things I thought I saw are just not there, and others I've already forgotten. Watching now, it's incredible to see how far she's come in such a short time.

So if you want to waste a lot of time, go hit my flickr. I won't feel hurt if you don't, though. They're mostly for me.

She likes it!

Rowan has always been a good eater. From the first licks of non-alcoholic Strawberry Daquiri in the Bahamas (thanks so much for that, Chad) to bowls of grits mixed with chicken and mixed veggies last night, she eats it all, even the lima beans. Her only requirement is variety--should we give her one thing too many times, she'll reject it and throw a little tantrum in the high chair, flinging the food all over the floor. She is currently off bananas, Cheerios and yams for this reason.

As we sit down to dinner, she eats along side us, and this has worked great. She behaves well at the table, and is good in restaurants, too. Lately, however, she's begun to notice when her food is different than Mom and Dad's. She'll stare pointedly at our dinner, and then look down to her plainer fare, and stop eating.

So, lately she's become even more adventurous in her food offerings. Tandoori chicken and basmati rice. Philly cheesesteak. Fresh lemons from my iced tea. We did find one thing she didn't like at all, which actually surprised me since I craved it while I was pregnant--root beer. She spit the entire mouthful down her shirt, but then stopped grabbing my styrofoam cup out of my hand, so I guess it was a mixed blessing.

Yesterday, continuing in her whirling dervish phase, she made a beeline for the corner of the kitchen to try something new. Luckily, I caught her before she had swallowed.

I don't think Lucy's Canine Crunchies were designed for babies of the human variety.

H-E- double hockey sticks

Well, it's over. What is not-so-affectionately called Hell Week in Dr. B's department due to three banquets, countless lectures, and lots of clapping and fake smiling for awards for people you've never met. Salmon, steak, salmon and steak, and steak and some sort of fish that wasn't salmon. Rolls with so much rosemary they tasted like Pine Sol. Learning to make a bishop's hat with my place card because I was so bored during the lecture on petroleum-in-Oklahoma BUT IT'S DIFFERENT BECAUSE IT'S SHALE AND SOME SORT OF *SPECIAL* SHALE AND THEY HAVE TO DRILL SIDEWAYS!!! WOOO EEEE!!! (ugh.) And of course that was the night where the ever-so-generous oil companies didn't pay for any wine. Three different dressy outfits because there is overlap with all of the banquets, three days of shaving my legs and cutting myself repeatedly because I'm a klutz, two babysitter nights (requiring a somewhat-clean house) and one playdate. But, having a babysitter meant we could linger afterward and have a glass of wine with friends, which we enjoyed immensely.

And now? Rowan has a bear of a cold, because her playdate playmate is a daycare boy, and that's just what happens. Poor little bug is congested, hoarse, and not sleeping well. Thus, we are not sleeping well. I took the first night, Dr. B took last night, but he doesn't have Mommy-radar, so I heard her every time she cried before he did, even though he was sleeping with her in his arms in her bedroom. And then Lucy decided she needed a walk at 1:30 AM. BECAUSE WE'RE ALL UP ANYWAY! Party time at the Brownsons'!

Last night, we finally got her to sleep around 9 and pulled out the movie I had run to rent after supper (from our video store which is closing and we're not very happy about that.)

We spent the next hour and a half searching for the remote because we can't hit play on the DVD player without it. Moving couches. Pulling out cushions. Checking every drawer and cabinet. We never found it. Finally, around 10:30 we gave up and watched an episode of Red Dwarf before going to bed.

Dr. B has a lecture to go to tonight, and another reception, so he'll be home a bit later than normal. I think I'll watch Juno on my laptop. Maybe we'll find the remote by the time she goes to Kindergarten.

Big Bird and the Boobie

I never saw this, that I remember, but it is a nice way to explain it to kids!

Comfort

She took a two hour nap this morning. I mopped the floors after seeing the grunge that was on one knee and one foot of her sleeper pajamas. Her crawling is, um, very interesting. (And I swear I just mopped last week, but YUCK!)

She had a bath, we played, had lunch, and I folded laundry, which she didn't throw on the floor. She let me watch Ugly Betty online and didn't pull the laptop to the floor while chewing on the charging cord.

Then she took a two and half hour nap this afternoon, waking up smiling. We went for a walk. Then, it was time for goûter. Rocky Road for me and grapes and bread, chopped into tiny bits, for her. Now she's running around her playstation carrying the top of a cardboard box, and giggling as the dog licks grape juice from the tips of her fingers.

She hasn't destroyed anything. She's slept when asked and for long periods of time. My hair hasn't been pulled, my mouth hasn't been probed, she hasn't drawn blood. No screaming. No crying. She didn't go back to the dog's dishes after I said 'no' and moved her away. She's been happy, in a good mood, easy to be around.

She gives me big hugs when I pick her up. After curling my hair for the banquet tonight, she looked at it in wonder, touching a curl gently with her fingertips and smiling.

Mom's been gone ten years today, but there's no doubt. She's still watching over me. And our little girl.

Thanks, Mom. Today has been a wonderful gift.

I am terrified of the toilet.

It's time. She's mobile. Upwardly, downwardly, backwardly and forwardly. Kind of wonkily, actually. Hello Adverbs! I love you today!

She's sort of crawling, with one knee and one foot, and making quick progress into whatever she shouldn't be into. She pulls herself up on the furniture, and cruises along, as quick as a wink. She's even tried pulling herself up on Lucy, who doesn't like it very much.

I have learned:

• toys aren't fun unless they can inflict serious bodily harm. Or kill you.
  
• electrical cords are delicious, like spaghetti! Especially the sparky ones.
• little bits of unidentified crud are meant to be eaten. A dog who gets 3-5 walks a day brings in a lot of unidentified crud. (Mom now vacuums daily.)
  
• the bottoms of shoes are tasty and should be licked frequently! Especially outside ones.
  
• Buttons are meant to be pushed, dials are meant to be turned, and all music should be played at level 11.
• Doggie water dishes are baby pools. With added spit!
• Things in drawers or baskets should be out of them and thrown on the floor. Ditto for stuff on shelves.
  
• If you think she won't get into it, she'll get into it faster. Especially when you aren't looking or have your pants around your ankles or have a pot boiling over.
• Dogs don't like to be pulled up on by a 20 pound baby. They don't like vacuums either.

So, we've begun to babyproof. Candles are mostly gone, save the 'necessary' bathroom one for the stinky moments. Sit-around-cute-decor-crap is put away. Baskets of magazines have been recycled and closeted. Plugs are plugged, cords are tucked behind the couches, and stuff is pushed back to an unreachable area on each end table. Plexiglass has been ordered to cover the stereo/cable TV/ computer equipment and cords, and any tippy furniture has been screwed to the wall. She is a climber--she already started with her dresser drawers. At 10 months! And people wonder why we call her the evil monkey.

And the next paycheck plans include a mounted gate for the top of the stairs, toilet locks, drawer locks, cabinet locks and any other assorted baby safety crap that becomes an absolute necessity when I'm standing in the store.

They'll be able to smell a sucker like me a mile away.

"Insurance"

Living in Madison, we were part of some of the best HMO's and insurance programs in the country. We never worried about care--they told us where to go, who to see (and allowed us to change easily if we didn't click with our doc, or to choose a doc we liked), what to do, and we never paid out of pocket for anything except prescription copays, which were never more than 15$ (even for pricey migraine meds). We had it good.

Then came Pennsylvania.

After the third bill came in saying the insurance wouldn't cover it, we were really starting to get ticked off. Dr. B is under enough stress being a first year professor. He doesn't need to add this crap. He put the bills in his briefcase, and set up a meeting with the insurance people on campus.

Then he started having chest pains. I wanted to take him to the ER, but he refused. After arguing with him for a while, I knew the only way to get him in was to manipulate the entire situation. I didn't like doing it, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

After calling our insurance company and getting the OK, and trying to set up an appointment for him and getting told to take him to the ER right away (I set one up just in case he was really stubborn), I called.

"What time are you done with work? I'll come pick you up."

I neglected to tell him where we were going. He figured it out en route, but couldn't argue any more.

And after six hours waiting, pacing the halls with the baby and eating horrid vending machine food, he got the diagnosis.

"We don't know."

Great.

They did an EKG, blood tests and an Xray, as well as a bunch of other stuff, and nothing was apparent. He's stressed*. He's pretty sure that's the reason, but the doctor at the ER wouldn't tell him much of anything.

Today, I got a call from the business office of our health care provider. She wasn't happy about resubmitting a bill to insurance with a changed code, but she was doing it. (Well, I wasn't happy about getting a 200$ bill for some tests I didn't ask for, that they say I did. Who would ask for a comprehensive screening panel when you've got chapped lips? I didn't even know the words "comprehensive screening panel". Give me a break.) I'll still have to pay for part of it, but hopefully they'll get it changed and resubmitted so I don't have to fork over the entire bill.

And now I have a new mantra when I go to the doctor.

"But, will my insurance cover it?"

The things you learn when you leave Wisconsin...



*He promised to take a nap today, and I'll nag him more about taking bike rides, meditating and doing yoga. Asking him to stop obsessing and worrying about stuff is like telling the grass not to grow, but I'll do my best to counteract what I can.

I love it!

I love it!, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

I finally got around to loading some photos from the last few weeks, including some from the reception weekend, as well as more recent ones. There are a few shots from a picnic we took this weekend, as well as one that's a bit NSFW from this afternoon--but you'll only see it if you're allowed as a flickr friend, so if you are, don't be lazy and not login--it's worth the price of admission! ;) Let's just say Rowan decided that there were much more entertaining things to do than take a nap...

This one (above) was taken at Bucca di Beppo. We stopped at the one nearest our hotel in Eagan for lunch, starving after a very early wakeup and two flights, and it turned out they weren't open for lunch, because they are in an industrial area without a lot of local traffic during the day. But, the owner saw us leaving and felt bad that we were disappointed. He said because they were prepared for catering everything was ready, so we were invited in and enjoyed a delicious Italian meal with a restaurant all to ourselves! I'd call it Midwestern hospitality, but as Dr. B said, "the owner is from Mexico. This is Mexican hospitality!" He was right. The owner stopped by our table several times to chat, and he was a really nice, warm and friendly guy. We were not disappointed, and we highly recommend this location to anyone! As you can see, Rowan highly approved! (She thought the bread was the bomb.)

I've also uploaded am trying and failing to upload my first video to Flickr---will have to move a bunch from Vimeo. This one is Rowan playing with her Grandma while we got ready for the reception.

And if you're in PA and a registered Democrat, go vote tomorrow!

Frenzy

Vacuum. Dust. Change the sheets. Sweep the floor. Clean the bathrooms. Dust the baseboards. Mop the floors. Wipe down the appliances. Laundry laundry laundry. Clean, dry, fold, put away. Plan the meals. Shop. Make the meals. Pack a lunch. Iron the shirts. Pay the bills. Sort the mail. File the papers. Wash the diapers. Box up the outgrown clothes. Fill the drawers with the ones that are still too big. Make the phone calls. Set up the appointments. Pick up the toys. Sewing projects. The dog needs a walk. Knitting projects. Thoughts of going back to work. Cleaning out closets. Plans to cull, give to Goodwill, get rid of those things I've saved that I don't want, don't need, never liked in the first place so why did I keep them? Keeping up the chatter.

Trying, so hard, to keep myself busy so I don't remember. So I don't think about it.

It's coming.

Ten years. The anniversary. Ten years since she died.

Even still, it comes back, familiar and strange. When you're busy, doing, making, being the responsible one. Trying to not let it in. But it's there. It comes.

The sounds. Ksh! Chip! The smell of cigarette smoke. The door to her room, still closed. The garbage sacks full of clanking cans, sour dripping, ashes.

The phone ringing and ringing and ringing.

No one wants to talk about it anymore. They turned out fine, they are responsible adults. She really was a great mom, considering. Too bad it happened that way, but now they've moved on. Look how happy they are now. See, it's OK.

But it's not.

I still need her. I still miss her every day of my life. And I still hate that she couldn't stop, wouldn't, until it was too late.

Ten years gone, and it's as raw as ever.

Evidence

Rock and Rowan, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Well, despite the fact that I completely forgot to take any pictures at my sister's reception last weekend, there is photographic proof that it happened on my flickr site. I take no credit--these were on my Dad's camera (and some are funky because the setting got messed up) and he sent them to me. There will be more coming, from Josh's brother, who took a lot, and even managed to get a photo of one of the dolphins swimming by.

This one's my favorite, though. Well, I am a little biased.

Doublemint Doublememe

Tagged with two memes in one day, but I waited to post the second so you wouldn't get memed out (if you're not already). This one is from my cousin, Dee.

Two names you go by:
1. Mama (well, Rowan actually says, "Mamamamamamamamamama!")
2. RonBon (Nikki is the only one that calls me that, but she still does, even 20 years later!)

Two things you are wearing right now:
1. hausschus
2. REI fleece jacket in sort of a cornflower blue and black. It's my current favorite "bathrobe". (Yes, I'm still in my flannel jammies.)

Two of your favorite things to do:
1. read
2. dance

Two things you want very badly at the moment:
1. to have a good dream with my mom in it (they feel like visits)
2. to know what to do about next year

Two favorite pets you have had or have now?
1. Lucy
2. Sammy (he was everyone who knew him's favorite dog ever. How's that for good grammar?)

Two people who will fill this out: (therefore these are my tags! You're it!)
1. Andie
2. Vivi (because I'm going to totally meme-spam her. Heh.)

Two things you ate last night: (Too many things, really. Thank heavens for breast feeding or I'd be a house right now.)
1. vanilla ice cream swirled with raspberry sorbet
2. bite-size chocolate chip cookies
(Dr. B was on a business trip to Pittsburgh and didn't get home until an hour and 45 minutes AFTER he said he'd be home and he wasn't answering his phone--because it wasn't ringing--and he thought I was sleeping so he didn't want to wake me and I wasn't and I was totally freaking out.)

Two things you ate today:
1. toast with natural organic peanut butter and 3 berries jam
2. homemade plain yogurt

Two people you last talked to:
1. Rowan
2. Dr. B

Two things you're doing tomorrow:
1. if I say vacuum, maybe I'll do it.
2. ditto for change the sheets.

Two favorite holidays:
1. Christmas (I just wish it wasn't so much work.)
2. Halloween (does anyone say Arbor Day?)

Two favorite vacations:
1. France (I got a whole year!)
2. New Orleans (I've been 3 times. Love the food, the culture, the music, the history.)

Two Favorite Drinks:
1. Arnie Palmer (unsweetened brewed iced tea and lemonade mixed together--favorite summer drink ever.)
2. root beer float (that counts, right? Ice cream melts into a liquid, so it's a drink!)

Birthday:
August 13 (The Ides of August! Whatever that means...)

Now copy, paste and blog it. I look forward to it!