Monday, December 29, 2008

six things you maybe didn't know

Like 10 years ago Wandering Nana tagged me to divulge six of my quirks. I know I'm quirky (aren't we all?), but I had a hard time coming up with the list! I guess it's all so normal to me.

To put a twist on things, I'll give you three of my current and interesting quirks, and three quirks that sadly I've given up, either by time, because of my husband, or who knows.

Current quirks:

  1. I have to know what time it is if I wake up in the middle of the night. Whenever we go camping, I need a watch right by my head in the event I wake up. When my dearest alarm clock (I had had since I was 12) finally went kaput this year, Shane was nice enough to let me put his alarm clock on my night stand because I just couldn't handle it. Then I finally got a new one. I do miss that old alarm clock, though.

  2. I love things that match and matching sets. In fact, I am 100% more likely to buy something in the store if it comes in a set or you get three of them or whatever. For example, I'd never buy just one baby onesie. But, if it came with say, a pair of pants and a bib (for a reasonable extension of the price, or the same low price!), I'd totally buy it. Another example: my new obsession is earring and necklace jewelry sets. In fact, I lost an earring to a set I bought a couple years ago, so I went out and bought new earrings to match the necklace so I could have a complete set again. Basically, if it's a pair of pants with a free belt, a calendar with free stickers, a Listerine with a free travel-sized bottle, etc., I'm totally buying it!

  3. Lastly, I'm obsessed with reading the newspaper. All of the newspaper. If I miss a day, it sits around the house (in a nice little pile), until I read it. I didn't used to read the Sports section, but I've even started reading it, too. I don't ready every word, mind you, but I skim the headlines and really I feel entertained and enlightened. And for those of you paying attention at home, I called to cancel the newspaper (I was mad about their increasing prices and my decreasing free time), and they gave me a heck of a deal and said my price would be forever, "immune to price increases." So I renewed.
Some quirks I used to have that I don't really have anymore:
  1. I used to work in a grocery store and one of our big things was to organize the dollar bills nicely, meaning, all the presidents' heads faced the same direction. For years afterwards I made sure all my presidents' heads were facing the right direction in my personal currency. For purposes of this blog I pulled out all the moolah in my wallet, and sadly, my presidents' heads were in all sorts of directions. When I lost my gumption for dollar bill organization, I'll never know.

  2. I used to have to sleep with socks on. If I tried to go to sleep without socks, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and would freak out and would not be able to get back to sleep without putting on socks. Even in the dead heat of summer, I had to have socks. But alas, somewhere along the lines that quirk died as well. I now can go either way.

  3. Lastly, and this one is courtesy my parents, I used to sit and watch all of the credits at movie theaters. I think my parents think that if you're at the movies, you might as well enjoy yourself and take your time and heck, get your money's worth. You never know what kind of funny things might happen during the credits (think Pixar's Finding Nemo or Bug's Life), or interesting things might happen at the end of the credits (think X-Men 3). When you leave a theater as soon as the screen goes black, you miss that stuff. I think Shane broke me of this habit... he's a get-up-and-go kind of person.
There you have it folks. I'm as interesting as a $2 bill. They exist, but are rare. Thanks for the tag, Wandering Nana!

Friday, December 26, 2008

theories on politics and parenting

I've been working on this post for a long time in my head. Just be forewarned that there are many generalizations here, and I don't mean to offend, so please just hear me out and if you want to comment then great. At least I'll get you thinking, right? Loyal followers, today we are going to talk about politics and parenting.

First, politics. Here are our nation's political parties as I choose to generalize them:

  • Democratic: The government takes care of the people. You pay your taxes, and in return, the government makes sure your needs are met. Social programs like welfare, Medicare/Medicaid, Social Security, etc., are important. The Democratic party is, arguably, the more "charitable" party when it comes to funding programs for the needy. The government should ensure your quality of life.

  • Republican: You take care of yourself. You pay taxes because you must, but you don't necessarily trust the government to be there for you. Predominantly agricultural states tend to be more Republican (taking care of yourself, growing your own food), Republicans are more likely to support, say, individual retirement accounts as opposed to Social Security (funding your own retirement), and I'd argue Republicans more passionately support educational programs that "teach a man to fish," instead of just funding a solution to his problem (education programs for homeless vs. tent cities, and the like).
OK. Now, parenting:

  • Attachment Parenting (AP): The parent takes care of the baby -- literally. The baby is not permitted to cry, ever, indefinitely, because crying means the infant feels "abandoned" by the parents. The parent always soothes the baby, and co-sleeping is common. Advocates argue AP creates feelings of security in the child.

  • Common Parenting: The child, when able, learns to take care of himself. The baby can learn to soothe himself to sleep, generally by needing to "cry it out" to figure out how to do so. Baby often sleeps in his crib. (I found this site that outlines the "opposite" to AP as the Babywise method, some of which I don't necessarily agree with, but if you're interested in more of the differences this is a good place to look.)

I was thinking about this a couple nights ago as I sat on our futon in Wesley's room, talking to him sweetly as he cried and cried and cried himself to sleep. I didn't want to leave him, but I knew that eventually he'd have to learn to put himself to sleep. The book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child argues that sleep is an individual thing; I can't sleep for you, you can't sleep for me. A baby must sleep for himself.

As I sat there in the dark, my little heart breaking as Wesley cried, I thought to myself, "Wesley, you need to learn to do this. I can't do this for you." I know he is at the age where he can physically put himself to sleep. I believe it. All the books say it. So, I have to give him the opportunity to try it. To figure it out for himself. If I don't, I'm robbing him of an opportunity for growth, or even, an opportunity to fail (and learn from it). I couldn't help but think that my views were so very "teach a man to fish"... trying to give my son that opportunity to grow, even though it was painful (for both of us), and it would have been easier if I had just picked him up and rocked him for 20 minutes.

AP advocates argue, however, that a baby shouldn't be permitted to cry, under any circumstances. The parent, in all cases, needs to rush to the baby's side and "solve the problem." Soothe the baby to sleep at all times. Stop the car if the baby cries. Breastfeed for years. Offer the "family bed" as an alternative to a "cold, lonely" crib.

I have some friends who are staunch "AP believers," and they totally drive me crazy. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that this runs along political party lines (which would make sense, seeing as how Washington is extremely "blue"). If you lean more liberal and Democratic, you buy into the AP thing -- you rush to the aid of your child and take care of everything, like the government is expected to be a firm hand in the care of the country. If you're more conservative or Republican, you support what I would argue are more "traditional" or common methods of parenting (babies sleep in cribs; they use pacifiers; they cry sometimes), like government doesn't need to be this big entity controlling every aspect of everyone's lives.

Here are some other things to consider:

  • AP outlines that the parents need to adjust to the baby's schedule, and baby is in control of feeding, sleeping, etc. I would argue otherwise and say there is a big world out there that was already in operation when the baby was born, and the baby should (not at first, mind you, but eventually) learn to adjust to it. If not, in a couple years what you'll have is one surprised (and spoiled rotten) kid who finally figures out he isn't the center of the universe.

  • Maybe this is a family thing? Some of the AP advocates I know talk about co-sleeping with their parents until they were five, etc., which explains their being passionate about the practice. I slept in a crib; in fact, my folks have told me they let me cry it out. I feel pretty normal, and I don't hate them for it, nor have I ever felt abandoned or insecure.

  • Baby goes to sleep at 7:30 pm, right? So, if you have a "family bed," you're going to leave your baby in bed while you go back to the dinner table or your blogs or your nightly chores? In the short period of time Wesley was sort-of sleeping with us, Shane forbid us to leave the room. You never know when baby's first "roll over" is going to be. Wouldn't you feel awful if it was off the bed, when you thought he was sleeping? And now that Wesley rolls over constantly, leaving him alone on the bed is absolutely out of the question.

  • I feel intense pressure around AP followers to continue breastfeeding. Yes, it's healthy for my baby and I don't mind doing it for that reason (and avoiding the co$t of formula), but I wouldn't say I'm doing it for the "emotional" aspect of it. Sure, it's a nice way to bond with the baby, but I feel like I bond more with him when we're playing or I'm making him laugh. I often feel intense scrutiny that Wesley uses a pacifier. My AP friends argue that for their babies, "all sucking needs are at the breast," and since Wesley is a skinny little dude, all of a sudden I am a bad mother for starving my baby by giving him a pacifier so he can sleep in his crib instead of on my boob all night in the same bed.

  • (And, to further badger the point across that I am anti co-sleeping, Wesley has teeth now and our pediatrician even encouraged me to wean him off night feedings since the sugars on his teeth are at their worst at night. A baby with teeth on mom's boob all night, I'd argue, would have the same issues as a baby with baby bottle syndrome. None of my AP-crazy friends' babies have teeth yet.)

  • Wesley is such a good baby, but he cries in the car sometimes and I tell him, "Wesley, you're all right. You're fine." Eventually -- 5 minutes? at the most? -- he calms himself down and either falls asleep or looks out the window or whatever. He's fine. My AP friends stop the car and jump in the back and coddle their babies at the first whimper. Are you kidding me? A little fussing won't kill anyone. I look at it this way: Wesley's only way to communicate with me right now is by crying. When he is 10, he'll be able to talk. Right now, we go somewhere in the car and he's bored so he cries. When he's 10, we'll go somewhere in the car and he'll tell me he's bored, probably with a million "are we there yet?" and "how much longer?" statements. In either case, it's communication and totally normal. I'm not going to stop the car. He is fine. His needs are met.

  • I heard once that a weak mother does everything herself, meaning, it's so much easier for a mother to do the laundry herself or clean up the house herself. The strong mother is the one that outlines chores for her child and teaches her child how to be self sufficient, even though it is painstakingly difficult sometimes. Sometimes I feel like that is the difference between the AP moms, who want to solve the problem themselves, and we other moms, who want to give our kids the opportunity to figure it out on their own. Even if it means there will be crying.

  • I could go on for days.

This, to me, seems so "big government" (hyper-involved parents) vs. small government ("stand-back-and-see-what-he'll-do" parenting).

I must chime in with one exception, and that is that one of my good friends follows AP, but not by choice. She had a very very colicky baby and could not get him to sleep without her. He still sleeps with her. I know she'd put him in his crib, if she could. I know she'd give him more bottles, if she could. He's very very fussy. So, you do what you need to do to take care of your baby. I believe Wesley is well taken care of, and he is extremely loved and doted over. But he has cried himself to sleep, and that doesn't mean I love him any less (or that my pro-AP friends love their babies more).

And I guess the truth is, AP followers and myself, we both have the best intentions for our babies. We all have our struggles, and we're just trying to make our way through, doing what we think is best. I firmly believe that, even though I get confused sometimes at AP thinking.

So, now the day of reckoning for me: What do YOU think? Did you come from a co-sleeping family and do you vote liberal? Do you let your kids cry-it-out and grow their own tomatoes? Or, are you totally on opposite ends of the spectrum -- and how do you explain that?

P.S. As a final exclamation point that I think I'm faring well as a parent, Wesley has learned to soothe himself to sleep. My Christmas gift was a 13-hour stretch of him sleeping. I am sure that at various points in that 13 hours he woke up but was then able to soothe himself back to sleep in his crib without crying or needing me to come in and "save him." I couldn't be more thrilled. Bedtime is much better for us every night. We play and laugh and cuddle, and he goes right to sleep. Wow.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

christmas potpourri

Sweet Potatoes vs. Yams

Friends, I have solved the mystery. What is the difference between a sweet potato and a yam? See, I was in the grocery store a bit ago and purchased something labeled a "sweet potato," although it was white and didn't look much different than a regular russet potato. But I took the sign's word for it. Then, just today, I purchased a "Beauregard yam," and I have made "red garnet yam" baby food for my Wesley. With all the various names and starchy vegetables, how can we know the truth?

OK here's the skinny. This site tells it best, and this site is a little more wordy. Yams do not exist in the United States; I repeat, yams do not exist in the United States. What we eat here are many varieties of sweet potatoes. When the folks down in Louisiana first discovered the "sweet potato," they wished to distinguish it from its relative, the regular potato, and labeled it a yam. To this day, we call them yams -- and the canned variety are even erroneously labeled "yams" -- while they are not. They are all sweet potatoes.

I am in for an interesting Christmas dinner; see I have both white (I'll assume "Jersey") sweet potatoes and Beauregard sweet potatoes, and I chopped them both up and nuked them both and mashed them both and put them both in a pan with brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and butter on top. And marshmallows tomorrow. So we'll see how it tastes.

I repeat, you are all eating sweet potatoes tomorrow. NOT yams. I feel better.

Weather Update

Yup, there's still snow. A lot of it. We took Wes-man outside, which was fun. Unfortunately, the whole time before we ventured outside when I was layering him with clothes he cried and cried. Anyway, I let him touch the snow, and then I made a snowball and threw it at Shane. I'm not sure he understood the point. Then we took some cutesy "Wesley's first snow" pictures. Then I made a snow angel. Then we came inside and the power went out. Haha... hmm. But it's back on. Thank goodness.


In fact, to beleaguer the point, one of my favorite Christmas Eve traditions is driving around looking at everyone's Christmas lights, and we couldn't do it this year because the snowy, icy roads. I am so bummed.

My Annual Misnomer

Every year, I remind Shane that he and Santa need to "stock my stuffing," and every year he laughs at me, and every year I can't for the life of me figure out why I just said that. I always get it wrong. On the first try, second try, third try. If I'm talking without thinking, I say "stock my stuffing." Am I weird or what?

Blinky Lights

Can anyone explain why when I put a flashy bulb in my string of multi-colored lights, only half of the string started flashing? Then I decided to be smart and put a second flashy bulb on the other side of the string (maybe they are controlled by two separate circuits? or something?), and then that side started flashing, yay, but they don't flash together. Which is kind of annoying. The only reason I gave up and am living with it is because Wesley is so enamored by the blinking lights. He's so adorable.


Baby's First

I was ultra tempted to buy a cute "Baby's First Christmas" stocking. Unfortunately, I only found blue or pink stockings. One would think I would buy the stocking, use it for one year, then put it away for the next kid. But I can't say emphatically the next kid will be "blue" or "pink." Where's a nice red Baby's First stocking? So Wesley is using this hilarious HUGE knitted green stocking, from where it came we have no idea, and I'll hit the after-Christmas sales and get us all nice matching stockings for the rest of our lives. I may even buy more, you know, so the cat and any future kids or dogs or whoever also have matching Gottula family stockings.

Grandma Twining is all over the "Baby's First" ornament. I am super thrilled. Thanks, momma. I put my two ornaments, circa 1980, on the tree this year and reveled in nostalgia.

We'll see what tomorrow holds for Wesley. I imagine he'll want to eat the wrapping paper and won't really care about his gifts. I bought some baby food for his stocking, but Shane got to it before I did and actually wrapped it. So we slapped a label on it and put it under the tree. Prunes, in case you're wondering.

Merry Christmas, all!!

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

snow and sand and salt, oh my!

Seattle is so weird.

I've always thought the reason Seattle didn't use salt on the roads in snowy weather was because the rain here tends to turn to snow quickly, and there is this "perfect time" when you've got to get salt on the roads to absorb the snow, but at that time it is usually raining, hence washing away the salt and rendering the entire effort useless. So instead, Seattle uses sand.

Not so, I learned today. I'll go ahead and summarize this article in the Seattle Times for you. Basically, Seattle thinks salt is bad for the environment and, being the sustainability-minded folks (Shane would say "tree huggers") they are, would rather use sand to mitigate the effects of the snow. They argue salt is, and I quote, "not a healthy addition to Puget Sound."

Oh geez, where to begin! My favorite part of the article is when they called a transportation person in Denver, where it um, snows a lot, and that person said:
"We never use sand. Sand causes dust, and there's also water-quality issues where it goes into streets and into our rivers."
OK, so if now salt is bad, and sand is bad, what should you use? I suppose what would make sense is to use the lesser of two evils. And how would one gauge that? I'd weigh in that you should use what actually works.

Salt works. It melts the snow and ice by lowering the freezing temperature, so your car doesn't slip and slide.

Sand works for a short period of time, maybe, absorbing the snow and packing it, so you can drive on it. However, if it is still snowing, sand doesn't to work. More snow on top of packed snow is just more of a mess, and the freezing temperature is the same, so ice still results and cars still slip and slide.

I'm all for doing things for the environment, but when the argument can be made that you're not actually helping the environment by doing what you think is helping the environment, then what?

I just hope Seattle realizes they are driving all of us mad. The roads are skating rinks. The transportation conditions are just part of the reason why I am sequestered by my husband, forbidden to drive (and we have a Subaru!), and beginning to go a little stir crazy. I had a ton of Christmas shopping to do that won't get done. I think I'll make little coupons that say "new bath squirters" and "new bibs" and wrap them up in boxes for Wesley. Since I'm not going anywhere today.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

can't control mother nature

We return to find our heroine heartbroken; but why, you ask? Let's go chronologically.

June: I'm chatting with my super cool new friend Stephanie (we took our childbirthing classes together), and she tells us she worked for Alaska Airlines. I feel they should seriously make a movie about her life. She was a flight attendant and met her husband, a pilot, when they both had a layover in Chicago and she wanted someone to explore the city with. They fall in love, get married, and now have a cute baby. How romantic!

Novemberish: We're talking about family and holidays, and I'm sadly explaining that my folks live in Maryland and it's tough to get there to see them often. Stephanie, duh, tells me she has buddy passes thru Alaska and could fly me to Washington, D.C. for less than $100 a person! (To put this in perspective, last time I went to Maryland I think we bought $350+ plane tickets.) I think, wow!, but dismiss it, since Shane has instituted a "no-fly" rule with the baby. We've all been on flights with unruly babies, right? And he never wanted that to be us.

Thanksgiving: We're with Shane's family and talking about what a fabulous baby Wesley is, and Shane casually lifts the no-fly rule and says we should go to Maryland for Christmas. Say what? Is there a bug in my ear? At first I think he's kidding.

Two weeks later: Shane isn't kidding. "Are we going to Maryland for Christmas, honey?," he asks. I scramble. Tickets are wildly expensive. Then I remember Stephanie.

A week later: Stephanie checks the "flight loads" for me. Buddy passes are standby, which is a little more of a hassle, but you can't beat the price. She checks how full the flights are; the more open seats the better. She tells me she usually only sends people off to fly when the flights are "wide open," since she likes to be sure they'll make it. We decide on dates.... Monday December 22 to get us to DC, Monday December 29 to get us back. She tells me she's never flown anyone at Christmas before! But in her 10 years of working for Alaska and getting friends buddy passes, everyone has been successful. She tells me to call her every day and she'll check the flight loads. I'm ecstatic because I just know I'll be her first successful Christmas traveler.

Sunday: Seattle has a huge snow storm. At first I am in denial. I still think of Wesley as a tiny newborn, and since he was born in May, it's still the summer, right? In fact, it is winter. And the storm is very yucky. Very icy. But historically, Seattle snow comes and goes. So I don't think anything more of it.

Wednesday: It's still snowy. I commute to work fine, but I'm on the bus a bit longer coming home. Shane quarantines me on Thursday and Friday because I tend to slip and slide. It's still snowing?? I'm incredulous.

Thursday: I'm researching park-and-fly locations, rental cars, and even hotel rooms and day trips (anyone up for a tour of the the Naval Academy in Annapolis?). Mom and dad are so excited. Mom tells me she has a Baby's First Christmas ornament for Wesley. I can't wait to see them.

Friday: I book our tickets. According to Stephanie, there are 25 open seats on a 9:15 am flight to DC, and 20 open seats on a 2 pm flight, both on Monday the 22. Wahoo! Lots of space! If we don't make the first, we've got a good chance to make the second. We're going to Maryland!

Saturday: Another huge storm hits. I beg Shane to take me to Babies R Us for last-minute Christmas shopping. We're in a swarm of traffic and snow madness. We make it home in one piece.

Saturday afternoon: I talk to Stephanie. The flights still look good. She says if it was her, she'd go to the airport. And she's been flying to places for 10 years.

Today: The newspaper headlines talk about insanity at the airport: flights have been delayed, travelers are frustrated, and the Christmas coming-and-going has only just begun. And now, dear readers, the foreshadowing comes to light: It hits me. I want to fly tomorrow. Insanity at the airport could totally affect me.

I call Stephanie. She checks the flight loads. Holy cow. How did one flight go from 20+ open seats to NEGATIVE THREE seats overnight?

The airport is a mess. Stephanie calls a friend and the inside scoop is that the airport is running out of de-icer. Any plane that has been sitting on the ground for a couple hours and needs to be de-iced, isn't getting it. The only planes leaving are those coming in, filing their passengers out and loading new passengers on in record time, and taking off immediately.

It turns out the 9:15 am flight to DC for today, Sunday, was very very late. It didn't leave until after 1 pm. The 2 pm flight to DC was eventually canceled.

Alaska is super nice to its paying customers and allows rescheduling for no fee for weather-related incidents. So everyone who showed up this morning and saw a 4-hour delay for their flight could reschedule for tomorrow morning, go home, and avoid the mess. And I guess they did.

This afternoon: I call Stephanie again. Alaska has halted all service from Seattle. No planes are leaving. Everything is canceled for the rest of the day. According to the flight status reports online, they've already canceled tomorrow morning's 9:15 am flight. My flight.

And so we find our heroine, calling her mom and dad with tears in her eyes. "Momma, I'm not coming. You won't get to see your grandbaby for Christmas. We'll try to come in January. Stephanie says January is a very boring travel month, so for sure we'll make it. But Christmas won't be the same. I'll miss you."

I'm bummed, yes. I realize it was risky, trying to fly standby at Christmas. But it would have worked. We were thisclose, if not for that darn Mother Nature and her idea of a White Christmas.

Tomorrow: Gotta get to a grocery store. No food in the house. We thought we were going out of town. Wesley is sleeping soundly, and I might curl up under a blanket and sigh. What a day.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

break from our regularly scheduled programming

FYI: I am not posting today so I can go to Google Reader and enjoy the 607 blog posts from YOU GUYS that are waiting for me. So there you have it.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

random stuff about me

Whimsy tagged me awhile ago to list seven random things about me. I've decided my "angle" will be "seven random things that happened to me this year."

So here goes. I'll even do it by months.
  1. January: We got a new car (which I've talked about before). The sad thing is, we haven't named it yet. I can't decide if I want to name it, or if I shouldn't name it so I don't get too attached. My last car, En Fuego, was a red Suzuki Swift and when we sold him, I cried. We even sold him to family members so it would be easier for me. Although when I heard they knocked one of his side mirrors off (by accident of course), I wanted to walk 200 miles to rescue him. So should I name my new car? It's a "newport blue pearl" Subaru Impreza. I've considered "blue ice" or "Subarupert" (I had a friend who named her Subaru "Subaruby," but I think my car is a boy). Any ideas?

  2. ~March: Once I was on the bus and looked at the window and saw a guy reading one of my very favorite books. He was reading Book 1 in a "fantasy" series that isn't very common, but my aunt named her son after the hero and she introduced me to the books. I wanted to like, bang on the window so he'd look up so I could give him a thumbs up or something. But I didn't. But isn't that interesting? If I had been outside of the bus I totally would have talked to him.

  3. ~April: I used to be an avid follower of the original CSI series. I've seen almost every episode. Sometimes I see things in the news and say, "that was a CSI episode." I was/am a purist -- meaning I only like CSI: Las Vegas, not Miami or New York (bleh!). But, I just don't have the time anymore. Plus, The Office is on during the same time slot, and we got rid of cable so we can't videotape one channel while watching another. Sadly, I've moved on. My folks still keep me updated on the plots. I miss it, I do.

  4. June: I recently achieved more than 50 feedbacks on my eBay profile. I mostly buy stuff. My best score was a complete Clue Master Detective, which is ultra fun if you haven't played it before. My sales average 99 cents or something.

  5. August: I got pulled over just outside our condo this summer. Boo hoo. I think the only reason the police officer let me off with a warning is because I was so close to home. Drive the speed limit, folks. I am trying to be better.

  6. September: I've considered brushing up on my French from high school since I'd love to volunteer for the 2010 Olympic Games in Vancouver, BC. I think English/French is the "official language." I volunteered for the Salt Lake games and would love it do it again. I took 5 years of French in school, the first in middle school (8th grade) and all the way up to my senior year. Plus I went to France. The language isn't as "useful" per se as Spanish (in the United States), but I like it. In fact, I've tried to learn German and most recently Spanish by plastering words and phrases around the house and renting CDs and DVDs from the library, but each time I'm trying to speak and don't know a word I just insert a French word into the conversation. So I might as well stick to what I already know.

  7. November: My first email address was @juno.com, which in the days of dial-up, downloaded all my emails to software on my computer so I could read and compose emails offline. As we've upgraded computers over the years I've tried to carefully put all the Juno stuff in a folder and move it from PC to PC. The other day I opened the software and tried to read some old emails, and I couldn't. Something somewhere went awry with the software. I am so so bummed. When me and Shanester were dating, he wrote me cutesy love emails to my juno account. All those love notes are lost. Anyone who is a genius with computers, please help. I love my love notes.

There's seven. I win.

Friday, November 21, 2008

a day in the life of a baby sock

The other day I strapped Wesley in his baby carrier and went shopping at Fred Meyer. Half-way through the frozen foods section I realized we were missing a baby sock. It was one of the black Johnny Trumpette socks, and many of you know they are not cheap (got mine used on eBay), so I raced through the store, retracing every step, breaking a sweat, looking for the sock. I left my cart with the greeter and ventured into the parking lot, fearing the worst. I finally found the sock ... in the car. Yup, it was sitting there in the back seat, grinning at me.

Contrast that with today: I'm at my Friday Moms & Babies Group at Steven's Hospital, which I love, and I notice Wesley is missing a sock. I don't care, because last time I 100% flipped, it was in the car. I expect this one to be in the car, too. (Please note, to date, I have not yet lost a baby sock. My naivete is understandable.)

I'm at my group for something like 2 1/2 hours, just chatting, enjoying some treats, playing with my cute bebe. I wander out to my car, and what do I see on the asphalt in front of me, equidistant from my car and the hospital front door, but Wesley's errant tiny blue baby sock, all crumpled in a little heap. It was in the middle of the parking lot for almost 3 hours. How it managed to stay there, waiting for me, I don't know. But it was there. I can't believe it.

Funny.

I think my boy needs bigger feet. Or I need to be more vigilante about being on baby sock duty. The darn things need their own GPS.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

need your help

I'm in desperate need of your opinion, faithful reader and friend. Please comment on one or all of the following.

I.

For a baby gift, I got a cute matching set of 5 onesies (packaged together) and 5 swaddle blankets (packaged together). The onesies were 3-6-month size, so they sat unopened, while we ripped into the swaddle blankets and used them constantly for Wesley's first four months.

Well, now we're well into his 3-6 months of life, in fact Wesley is almost 6 months old, and the onesies are still unopened. Reasons include 1) we have a ton of clothes, 2) the onesies are short-sleeved, meaning that if I open them, I'd make the boy wear a long-sleeved onesie underneath anyway, and 3) I can't be 100% sure they still fit. They are Target's Circo brand, and Wesley still fits 2 or 3 newborn-sized Circo onesies, but I consider it a risk.

So do I open them and use them (if only for a little bit)? Do I sell them? Do I regift them?

Please consider that I love little sets of stuff. So the fact the onesies match the swaddle blankets makes me so happy. But we rarely use the blankets anymore. Do I open them anyway, just because? And wipe the dust off the swaddle blankets and use them too? Or do I regift the onesies and give the used swaddle blankets as a hand-me-down so the next person has the cute matching set? Do I sell the onesies on eBay since they are more valuable unused "in the wrapper" ?

II.

I love the newspaper. Ever since majoring in communications at BYU and being forced to read the newspaper for a Comms 101 class, I have enjoyed the paper. I like the news in print. I wrote for the BYU newspaper and seeing my name on a byline for news article was so exciting. I love knowing the current events. I don't read every word, but I glance over almost all of the sections, and I feel like I learn a lot.

That being said, I'm a mom now. I don't have time for it. Newspapers sit unread around the house until I get the gusto to just recycle them. Sometimes I'm up at night, reading the day's paper just because I feel like I should, but I should totally be in bed. I can get news digitally (as my husband does), and the cost of the newspaper has dramatically increased. What used to cost $44 dollars (for 3 months), now costs $58. The Seattle Times doesn't even cut you a break if you prepay for a year. So I have no incentive to pay ahead or anything.

So, do I unsubscribe? Newspapers are hemorrhaging money, and losing a valuable customer like myself won't help them any. But all these factors are just against me reading the paper. Even though I love it.

III.

Wesley is in dire need of a dresser. We have limited space, so I want what is interestingly called a "lingerie chest," a tall skinny dresser. And I want one to match his cherry/espresso/dark brown crib furniture. But, I can only find ones on eBay or Craigslist in white, oak, dark oak, or black. Even a search for "cherry" returns dressers made of cherry wood, not a cherry finish.

So, should I buy a white one and paint it? Should I buy an unfinished one from somewhere and stain it? How tough is it to paint a dresser anyway? Should I give up and just get another color? Should I keep looking and not sell out for the unperfect dresser?

I mean, the kid is 6 months old and we're keeping his clothes in plastic storage containers under his crib. He needs an upgrade.

So, what would you do?

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

it's that time of year again

You may be interested to know that today's celebrity birthdays are Linda Evans from Dynasty, the very famous Owen Wilson, Brenda Vaccaro who I think was in Pretty Woman, and rabber Fabolous, who I don't like not because I've never heard his music, but because he spells "fabulous" wrong.

And me!

Actually, there are more. Every year, as people get more "famous" they make the list of celebrity birthdays, or at least I begin to recognize them, so also celebrating today is Oscar from the Office (very cool!), and Senator Ted Stevens! The felon! Whoo hoo!

And: I like to say today is Mickey Mouse's birthday because Steamboat Willie premiered in 1928.

(Sidenote: Do you guys know the famous people born on your birthdays? I think it is absolutely essential information.)

Now that you have some juicy celebrity trivia, on to the real purpose for my post: to celebrate me! Ha ha ha. Actually, I think it's fun that on our birthdays when we were kids, we'd all gather around in a little huddle and ask mom to tell us our "being born" stories.

So here's mine, as I remember it. Mom, dad, please comment if I get it wrong.

It was a dark and stormy night.

Just kidding.

I think I was born at 3 in the afternoon, in Towson, Maryland, at a nicely petite 6 pounds 6 ounces. Mom told me she had contractions at home and went in, and yay a baby! She said she had me without drugs, which is a WOW, since I have had a child myself and those epidurals are nice. So way to go Mom.

I was going to be named Ryan if I was a boy (I may be making this up; I think mom says she knew I was a girl even though she didn't) and Jessica if I was a girl. But I looked so much like an angel she changed her mind at the last minute.

Cue the awwwwwws.

Now it gets fun.

They were so excited to have a baby, they drove home and left all their luggage at the hospital. Ha ha ha! They had to go back to retrieve it. And, when they got home to their little apartment, there was some kind of ahem, septic problem, and the whole apartment was flooded. So they took their brand new baby over to grandma's, where I spent my first days and nights sleeping peacefully in the bathtub.

Cute little me!

Thanks mom, for going through what you did so I could be born. I like my life. I know how it feels, having a bebe of my own. Thanks dad, for being involved and treating mom good. I owe lots to you guys. It's a day to celebrate! (Some friends say I only enjoy celebrating since I'm not 30 yet. It's probably true.)

In other news, Wesley let me sleep in so that was nice, although his gift to me first thing this morning was a poopy diaper. I made eggs for breakfast. Shane is getting to-go Olive Garden for us for dinner. I get to go grocery shopping (not my idea of a great "birthday" activity, but it must be done). My big gift is an elliptical machine. Last year, my big gift was a papasan chair, and Gabby is the one who sits in it the most. So I joke that Gabby will use the elliptical more than me. We'll see.

Here's to another year.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

little worker bees

This morning I went to the cannery for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Mukilteo. I've never been to a cannery before... it was a wild experience!

And the fact I went today was particularly apropos, since there was an article in the Seattle Times this week about the cannery. Go me for doing stuff when it's newsworthy!

Anyway. So you place an order for a bunch of canned goods, like flour, sugar, oats, whatever, and then you have to come on a certain day and can all your stuff yourself. Yes, they emphasized that if in fact I had not shown up to can my own stuff, my order would have been canceled. No one would have canned it for me. My, those Mormons sure are industrious, are they not? I think it only makes sense that the logo for the cannery (and a bunch of other Mormon stuff for that matter) is a beehive.

But, back on track: What happens is, it's not like I canned a can of flour, a can of oats, and a can of rice and then took my three cans and went home. There were 15 of us, and we all had little jobs. I was in charge of spaghetti. I filled and sealed 15 five-pound pouches of spaghetti. Some people took huge bulk-buy bags of sugar and poured them into #10 cans. (Number 1o, not 10 pound.) Someone else shook the cans so the sugar leveled. Then someone sealed it with the canning machine. Which was loud. And in the end, every can that was ordered was filled.

Basically, I felt like I got my "money's worth" (and time's worth) since I went home with 27 cans, or 4.5 cases (6 cans in a case). Contrast that with someone else there who had 18 cases... which is too many cans for me to count. I think her bill was over $650. Dang. So, my point being, if I only wanted like one can of wheat, I would have been totally jipped into doing everyone else's dirty work for just one can. So I guess my advice is, if you're going to go to the cannery, go all out.

I feel pretty good. It's nice to know we have some food storage. I mean, I need recipes still and the creativity to USE the food storage, and heck I also need a wheat grinder because what will I do with little wheat kernels if there is an emergency? But I feel like we've taken a step in the right direction.

I've been encouraged to have food storage on hand for actual meals for 3 months, and food storage on hand for sustenance only (i.e., you won't die) for 9 additional months, for a total of a one year's supply. I think I'd like to do it.

So I add another huge project to my list. Why do I do this to myself?

Monday, November 10, 2008

freeze fried

Friends. Lend me your ear. And give me your opinion.

In May 2007, I embarked on a fun adventure called "Meals for Month," wherein I prepared, in one day over Memorial Day weekend, 20 fully cooked meals to freeze. There was a recipe book and ingredients list all planned out for me to follow. I purchased all the ingredients over the course of a few months (getting most of them on sale), and felt dang good about myself when all the meals were finally prepared. I started at 9 am and finished at 4:30 pm or so. It was a long, hot, dishes-filled but productive day.

Over the next couple months, most of the meals were eaten. The really tempting ones went first... enchiladas, manicotti, chicken noodle soup. Some of the weirder ones it took me longer to get around to... shrimp creole, Chinese chicken salad, albondigas soup (whatever that means).

And one still sat in the freezer. Until last night.

So, 1.5 years later, we finished my Meals for a Month.

Well, I did. My husband refused to eat it.

"What!?!" I declared. "It's food! And it was frozen! It doesn't matter when I bought the ham for the Stir-Fry Ham; it's fine!" I vehemently defended the ham, circa April 2007.

He didn't buy it.

I was kind of offended.

We ended the evening with a small chat where I admitted the origins of the dinner were suspect, but his accusations made me particularly defensive and I just wanted to be appreciated for trying, even if my try this time did not equal success. It was a nice resolution, so we are still married (and for the most part, happily).

So.

  1. Was my husband wrong/right to refuse to eat 1.5-year-old food?

  2. Was I wrong/right to expect he'd have no problem eating 1.5-year-old food?

  3. Would you have eaten 1.5-year-old food?

  4. How long do you keep food in the freezer?

  5. Does it really matter how long it is frozen? I mean, is there some formula where the longer food is frozen the less edible and more inedible it becomes?
Just so you know, the rest of the dinner did end up in the trash. I mean, it wasn't so bad. I ate it, and I'm not sick today. It was a little salty and watery, but... ahh, I don't know. That could have been from the soy sauce I added to it.

I wonder if there was a "food in the freezer" class before/after college that I was supposed to take and didn't. I'm the kind of person that thinks food = money, so I don't usually throw stuff away or let it go to waste.

Anyway. I'm looking forward to learning something from this.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

lovingly referred to as...

My most excellent post today features a number of Wesley's baby toys and the funny names we call them. I think my friends and I are particularly creative.


This first is what I call the Matrix Duck. Why? It reminds me of the Matrix and how Keanu Reeves and everyone else has funky wires coming out of their heads when they are "in the Matrix." I actually scoured the Internet looking for an image so you could see, but I only found icky disturbing ones. So yeah, it was a weird movie. And we have a weird-looking duck. I have a friend with a Matrix block... looks just like the duck, except it's a red cube.


Our next exhibit is courtesy Whimsy's creativity. I got a set of these cubed farm animals (perfect for singing Old MacDonald -- thanks JJ!), and they all make some kind of noise. The pig has always been my favorite since it's kind of a rattle. Well, Whimsy noticed the little balls were brown... so of course, she nicknamed this toy "Piggie Poo Pellets." And now everytime I play with my son I say, "Yay Wesley! Piggie Poo Pellets!"

More duckies. We love duckies. These are from Corey, YAY, and they are most fun. We have a blue, red, and pink duck.... the Sissy Duck, the Pissy Duck, and the Prissy Duck. Just to be clear, I didn't think of the names, they came in the package with those names. And sometimes when I get upset Shane likes to say, "Wesley! Mom is being a Pissy Duck!" So they're great names.

Our last installment for today are the Googly-Eyed Fish. We have a big one and two small ones. I just love to say "googly-eyed fish!" after which Wesley will get the eyeball right in his mouth and start chomping.

Ahhh baby stuff. Much laughter all around.

P.S. Many thanks to our product tester and model for today, Mr. Wesley!

Thursday, November 6, 2008

some things that i like

Since most of my friends' blogs are all-politics as of late, I am jumping on the bandwagon as well. I'll come out and say that I tend to vote Republican because in general Democrats scare me (think Hillary), but John McCain wasn't my first choice for President during the primaries and now that Barack Obama has won, well, we as a country need to make the best of it.

In an effort to be positive about the president-elect, I offer the following:

  • I really like how Obama has scolded fathers in some of his speeches, calling them to action to lead and take care of their families. If Obama does nothing else for his country but convince black (and white) fathers and parents to better respect their responsibilities in raising the children they have created, then it will be a good thing.

  • I appreciated, in Obama's acceptance speech, how he addressed those whose vote he did not earn that day. Those of us who were hoping (although I'll be honest, not expecting) the election to go a different way. He seemed genuinely humbled by his appointment and he wants to earn our trust and support. Humility is the first step, and I thank him for that.

  • I was most impressed with something he said during the DNC... I didn't watch it, but I read his speech. He tends to put some issues into a light where, yeah, we can agree. He was talking about gay marriage, and he said though many of us differ on gay marriage (whether it should be legal), we can and should agree that if our gay and lesbian friends have a loved one in the hospital, they should be able to see them. And I thought, you're right. I may not want to call it marriage, because of how I feel about the sanctity of the institution of marriage, but I'm sure we can figure out something where a gay citizen can visit a loved one in the hospital (a right sometimes limited to family members or spouses only) or help a loved one deal with estate issues or whatever. I think we can all agree that creating a way, some way, where people can be happy with the life they've chosen is a good thing.

  • I like that Joe Biden is from Delaware. I happen to have grown up a stone's throw from Delaware, and have many friends from Delaware. They are often greeted with either, "Delaware? I've never met anyone from Delaware before," or a version of the humorous ploy about Delaware from Wayne's World. So it's nice that the country finally sees that yes, people live in Delaware, and in fact, one of them is now the Vice President.

  • I really think the guy who does Obama on Saturday Night Live does a great job, so four more years of that should be a real hoot.
That's all for now. Here we go America, four years of interesting stuff ahead of us.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

name game

I have a friend named Doug. He has always been named Doug. But for some reason, there must be some vibe about him or something, I want to call him Jared. Every single time I see him, I have to stop myself and think before I speak so I call him Doug and don't call him Jared.

How weird is that?

When I was in high school, I had a friend named Aaron. But, he looked like a Tony. He would have been much better named Tony. And in high school, I was a bit more audacious and flirtatious than I am now, and I called my friend Tony and told him I thought he was better named Tony and that was that.

Has this ever happened to you? Am I loony? I am really good with names and faces, so I don't usually forget or call someone the wrong name by mistake. I know what your name is. But with these guys, they just look like they should be named something else! It's wild!

I just got to thinking about this phenomenon since Doug is moving to Utah. Bon voyage, Doug. I'm grateful I made it through all of our conversations without calling you Jared.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

halloween rant

OK, no intention to offend here; I am merely speaking my mind, and this is blog world so I'm allowed to do so.

I absolutely hate the phrase "trunk or treat." For anyone not aware of what I'm referring to, the jist is this: groups get together in a parking lot and people decorate their trunks, and little kids go around the parking lot trick-or-treating at various trunks. They call it a "trunk or treat."

But WHY?

The phrase "trick or treat," is "an idle threat to play a trick on the homeowners or their property if no treat is given." Give me a treat, or I'll play a trick on you.

Replacing "trick" with "trunk" makes ZERO SEMANTIC SENSE. It is not parallel in ANY way. I'll give you a trunk if you don't give me a treat? I'll play a trunk on you? You give me a treat, or I'll take that trunk of yours and whap you upside the head?

Shaner says someone thought it was clever that "trunk" kind of sounds like "trick" and so they made up this little alternative trick-or-treating "play on words." Little did that person know, the phrase would catch on like wildfire and annoy the heck out of me for years and years to come.

Just speaking my peace here. I avoid saying this forbidden phrase at all costs. I'd much rather say "neighborhood Halloween party."

Friday, October 24, 2008

inside and out

Part 1:

I got a haircut last week. I was so very excited, since the gal cut off something like 4 inches, but imagine my surprise when hardly anyone noticed. Or maybe they noticed and hated it, so they didn't say anything. Interestingly, the three girls I work with that I see once a week all noticed, and a few of my moms' group friends noticed, but no one at Church. One friend commented that since my hair was so long (and I'd add unmanageable and non-baby-proofed), I probably wore it back a lot so people didn't even realize how long it was. I know she's right.

I felt like a million bucks, but didn't get much reinforcement from the troops. But, I guess it doesn't really matter since I still feel like a million bucks.

Part 2:

Some of you know I've had problems with my gall bladder. For anyone not aware, basically if you eat something really fattening the digestive system can't handle it and there's a blockage of some sort, and it's very very very painful. For me, it feels like my lungs are going to explode. It hurts really bad. My first "attack" was just after Wesley was born, and I've been careful about what I've been eating ever since. The only solution is to either eat really low fat or get your gall bladder out, which I really want to avoid for now.

I decided to take my chances last weekend and me and Shanester got a burger and fries from a national chain that will remain unnamed.

I have never been so grossed out in my entire life. I hardly ever throw food away (I love leftovers and basically think of food as money), but it was so disgusting I threw away half my sandwich. If I had finished that sandwich, I would have felt so awful about myself. It was thick and greasy and probably what a lot of people think would be an ideal lunch.

I couldn't help but realize that I haven't had a commerically prepared burger and fries since before Wesley was born -- in May. You may remember our "celebratory dinner" when Wesley was born was roast beef from Arby's. I don't think I've had anything of the sort since then. My body isn't used to having that stuff in it anymore (and I guess it feels pretty good to think that my body rejects greasy fake food). I wonder if I gave up chocolate what would happen? I shudder to think.

Conclusion:

Isn't it interesting how life is full of little changes. Some on the outside, some on the inside. Some, we don't even know what's happening, and then we're totally different than we were before. A haircut, a disdain for fast food, they're just little things. But what else is going on, how else am I changing, that I don't even know it?

I just hope that when it comes to the big stuff, the commitments I've made to myself and my family, that I'll never change. That my priorities won't falter. That I can stay strong. I've seen people in my life lose sight of what's important. It hurts. I just think, "can't you just get a grip on yourself? Don't you know what you're doing?"

But look what happened to me and the greasy burger. I didn't know what I was doing. And all of a sudden, it didn't taste so good anymore.

Interesting.

I also hope when someone needs me, in a big way, I'll notice. A haircut, it's no big deal. My feelings aren't hurt that you didn't notice. But if someone is struggling, I hope I'll listen to that little voice, that little prompting, that tells me to open my mouth and ask if a friend needs help.

Change. I usually hate it. Sometimes it's beneficial.

But it always happens.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

more of the same

Since we are unabashedly "All Wesley All the Time" at this URL, and I know the grandparents never get tired of hearing about our milestones/adventures/whatever, here are some things I've been dying to post:
  • Please enjoy the highly anticipated teeth picture. Did I mention we have two? Both bottoms are in. The sad thing is that I can only get him to show me them long enough to snap a shot if he is crying. So sorry these photos are a bit painful.

  • At the suggestion of one of my mom's group friends, I bought Wesley a sippy cup, so he could get used to holding it. Sure enough, he is super talented (genius!) and can put it in his mouth. My favorite part though: teeth marks on the bottom of the spout. How fun is that! My little man.

  • Gross-out of the week: Wesley spit up and it got all over my pants leg and in between my toes. Ahh, the joys of motherhood.

That's all for now. He is currently beginning hour 2 of his morning nap and I suppose I should change the sheets or brush the cat or organize my life but instead I'm blogging.

Friday, October 17, 2008

fit to be tied

When we found out we (more specifically, I) were pregnant, in October 2007 (a year ago this month!) Shane immediately was excited -- to buy a new car. Both of our cars at the time were two-doors, i.e., not good options for a lovely little family.

Shanester loves cars. This is the guy who will come home from work, where he spent 10 hours sitting at a computer desk, and get on the computer and look up cars on MSN Autos, kbb.com, autotrader.com, and more. Just for fun. Just to be informed. Or, in most cases, because he wants to persuade himself (and me) that it's time for a change. This happens a lot. He always has a new plan for how we should shake up our automobile situation. It's exhausting.

But anyway, when we knew Wesley was coming along, it was legitimately time for a change so Shane was uber excited. He spent hours researching, and we made an Excel spreadsheet with pluses and minuses of a bunch of cars. (If anyone is interested in our research, I'd be happy to share!) We settled on a 2008 Subaru Impreza, which we bought on our five-year wedding anniversary. What a fun little present for us.

In the course of our research, we came across a car that was gaining rapidly in popularity, the Honda Fit. Car & Driver magazine (which Shane reads and mostly likes, although he dislikes the cardboard ads that make the magazine flip open to the same page every time) loves the car and praises its merits. I often see articles in the paper about it. The Lynnwood Honda dealership told us there was a waitlist for them and we had no chance of getting a "deal" on one, since why haggle with us when they could sell it to the next Joe for full price? So basically, it's a hot car.


Since being introduced to this fancy go-mobile, I think I see them everywhere. I'm with Shane, and I'll exclaim, "Honda Fit!" at a passing car. The thing that kills me though is that I am wrong every time. Shane will respond, "that doesn't look ANYTHING like a Honda Fit!" and I feel like a moron.

So I went and got all the pictures off MSN Autos. You tell me what you think.

Me: "Honda Fit!"

Reality: Toyota Matrix. This one is the one I see most often and mistake for a Fit.


Me: "Honda Fit!"

Reality: Mazda 5. We looked into buying a Mazda 3, which it is more similar in size to the Fit than the Mazda 5, but I still get them confused.

Me: "Honda Fit!"

Reality: Pontiac Vibe. My friend Sarah even has one of these... and I still think it's a Fit.

Me: "Honda Fit!"

Reality: Kio Rio5.

Me: "Honda Fit!"

Reality: Chevrolet Aveo. This was the one I was most embarrased about. Not sure why. Maybe because it's American made, so I would think I could tell it apart from a Honda.

So yeah. What's the deal with all these cars looking exactly alike?

Then, just yesterday, I saw a car and exclaimed to myself, "Honda Fit!," fully expecting to see something else... and I was right. Just my lucky day, I guess.

Friday, October 10, 2008

posted too soon, again

FOLKS!! WE HAVE TEETH!

Yes, not just one, but TWO teeth.

Wesley is SUCH a trooper. He barely cried, although when we figured out what was going on I did race frantically at 9:30 at night to Safeway to buy baby Tylenol. Basically, we didn't even know what was happening until the tooth was already in. And he only needed one dose of Tylenol. What a big boy!

He got his bottom left tooth first (Monday). Then, a couple days later (yesterday), we were "showing off" for some friends, and we saw the other bottom tooth. They're both there!

In the process of all this, I feel more adept as a mother. Like I said before, he barely cried; he had two bouts of unexplained insane crying, and I just knew something was wrong. His cry was just different. Shane totally didn't believe me when I suggested it was teething, since he is only 4 months old. But then, Monday night, I decided to check and sure enough, there was a tiny pearly white.

The sad thing is, I love it love it love it when he sucks on my hand (it feels sooo funny), but he did it today and it um, hurt. So, my little Wesley has teeth now. I feel like he's all grown up. Like he's no longer a baby.

*sigh*

I've been trying all week to get a picture. He just doesn't like to have me hold his mouth open and point the camera at his face. I guess I'd be freaked out too if it was me.

Monday, October 6, 2008

posted too soon

Two more Wesley firsts:

  • First thumb-sucking. Yep, the little guy has discovered his thumb, and the fact that his thumb can be separated from the rest of his hands. He has loved to suck his hands for awhile, so I guess this is just a graduation per se. He's so dang cute.

  • First ROLL OVER. He rolled first from his back to tummy (which is the harder of the two rolls), then, just moments later, from his tummy to back. Unfortunately, I missed it!!! My first loss as I'm "back at work." Oddly enough, the roll overs happened in my very own living room, but I am doing a baby swap with a friend so we can both get in some solid blocks of part-time-at-home work, and she saw Wesley's acrobatics while I was in the back room slaving away! Shane and I am speculating that since her baby is 3 months older, and she was rolling over all morning, Wesley felt showed up and couldn't let her have all the rolling-over attention. Oh well, I'm still happy with the baby swap situation. Thanks Whimsy!
Ahh I love being a mama.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

yay! philly, pa!

For those of you Washingtonians who know me, you may not know that I grew up in a teeny town in rural Maryland and loved every minute of it (mostly). We were in such a great location! Right near the beach and 2 hours to DC, Baltimore, Virginia Beach, and Philadelphia. Just a few more hours after that to New York. Needless to say I went on a lot of field trips to historical sites when I was a kid. I love the East.

For those those of you Mormons who know me, perhaps you heard this morning that President Monson announced a new temple in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania! I am SO DANG EXCITED. I am pretty sure it'll be my parents' new temple that they'll attend. People are "assigned" to attend a certain temple based on where they live ("temple districts"), and my folks are in the Wilmington Delaware Stake. And seeing how Wilmington is um, right next to Philadelphia, I don't think they will be in the Washington, DC, temple district for much longer. They're also part of the Philadelphia Pennsylvania mission so that should also tell you it's a big possibility that it'll be their temple.

SO YAY.

(that's a picture *I* took by the way.)

I must take this opportunity to say though that the DC Temple will remain "my temple" and that won't change ever. Me and Shanester were married there, and I was sealed as an eternal family to my parents there when I was just 5 years old. Once when I was a little girl, I saw a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and I said, "whatever, that's not a temple." Since to me, the only temple, the main top cheese temple, was in Washington, DC. I love that place. It's so beautiful.

My aunt told me once that someone wrote into the Washington Post with a question: which is taller, the Mormon temple in Kensington (it is technically in Maryland), or the Magic Kingdom Castle at Disneyworld in Florida? Well guess what. It's the temple. It ridiculously dwarfs the Disney Castle from what my aunt said the column said. So how cool is that.

(I guess I must doctrinally clarify for anyone not familiar that all temples are the same inside, and it doesn't matter where you go. But people always have their favorites. And, if you want to know more, go here.)

I remember talking to my mom once about the DC Temple and I told her how it made me feel, and she said to me, "you know, that's what heaven feels like." I believe it.

But, regardless of how magnificent the DC Temple is, and it is magnificent, it is still pretty exciting to think there will be one in Philadelphia soon enough. I'm excited for that. YAY! I guess I should also take this moment to say that I live in Seattle now and although we have a temple here, one has also been announced for the Vancouver area of British Columbia. Which is also pretty cool.

For those of you keeping score at home, there are 128 temples in operation and an additional 17 have been announced.

Friday, October 3, 2008

firsts to report

Wesley has encountered several "firsts" in the last week or so, which I know you'll find interesting! And if you don't, then my mom and dad are reading and they'll find them interesting:

  • First mom-induced laughter. This was so fun. He was on his back on the floor and I did push-ups on top of him. As my head met his head I made a funny noise and he giggled and squealed and all-around had a fabulous time! Unfortunately, by about 3 minutes I had had it because I'm quite lacking in upper-body strength. But it was the first time I've ever made him laugh, and it was so sweet.

  • First mom-inflicted pain. Yes, poor little guy. Well, I shouldn't say "first" since I don't plan on inflicting more pain on him. But I attempted to graduate from filing the fingernails to clipping the fingernails, but I did a bad job and clipped part of his thumb. Poor little guy and his sad little wail. So I'm back to filing... which takes forever. Any advice on baby-nail trimming?

  • First tears. Baby tear ducts aren't fully developed at birth, and Wesley's have finally "come in" or whatever you'd call it. I think I had to use the bathroom and left him in his crib for 2 minutes and he did not like that. I returned and lo and behold, little tears on his eyelashes. Wow!

  • First splashes. Just briefly in the tub yesterday did he kick his feet and realize he was splashing. I actually think he scared himself.

  • First full day without mom. Yes, I went back to work this week. I had a major freakout in anticipation on Tuesday, then went in Wednesday for a 10-hour day. It was actually awesome. I'm glad I did it. I'm glad it'll work out so I can work part-time one day a week, and Shanester can stay home with Wesley. His transition to four 10-hour days at work hasn't been the easiest, but it'll be so great for our family. And Wesley lived without me.
I desperately want to add "first roll over" to the list but we are waiting waiting waiting for that. Not yet. Boo!

In other Wesley news, we're not starting real food yet. Maybe in a month or so. We do have a high chair. I'm also planning on Baby Signing and I'm gearing up for that, which I can also start in a month or so. (Research says baby signing isn't really effective until they are 5 months old.)

That's all for now. I love that little guy!

Friday, September 26, 2008

knowing me better than i know myself

While nursing Mr. Wesley, I like to keep myself entertained with a diverse pile of stuff to match any mood: a set of scriptures, an Ensign, old Readers Digests, the current Parents magazine, brochures on child development, and a book of Jumbles. The latter I recently pulled out of my bedside stand. I think mom gave me the book before I was married, and I had done one or two and no more. I am proud to say I am almost 100% done with the Jumbles.

I love Jumbles. When I was in elementary school (I think!), I'd sit on dad's lap in his recliner and we'd do Jumbles together. What is a Jumble, you ask? Oh heavens...

This here is actually what I call a "super Jumble," since it has six words. Most only have four. Super Jumbles are in the Sunday paper.

Anyway, I love Jumbles. And my mom bought me a Jumble book knowing I love Jumbles. And now that I finally have time to get through the book, I am so deliriously happy! I've even resumed doing the Jumbles in the paper that I used to skip over in my quest to finish the paper as quickly as possible and move on with my life.

In thinking fondly of my Jumble book, I've come to consider quite a few gifts that at first glance seemed odd, then turned out to be 100% absolutely perfect. Just what I needed. I just didn't know it.

  • One year, "Santa" left me a fingernail "hygiene" kit in my stocking: nail clippers, a nail file, tweezers, and a under-the-nail-scraper thing. OK whatever, Santa, thanks. But I still have it and I use it every day. I've replaced the tweezers and clippers but they all still fit perfectly in their little case. Wow, that Santa knew.
  • Another year for Christmas I got a robe. I never had used a robe. OK mom, sure. But, then I went off to college and in the dormitories I fell in love with that robe. I just recently replaced it with a new robe. Now I'm a convert to robe wearing! I love them!
  • Once, mom and dad saw the clutter of my shoes collecting behind my door in my room and bought me a "shoe bag" that hung over my door. OK whatever, parentals! But they knew. That shoe bag was a blessing. I used it, and suddenly I could open my door all the way! Wow!
  • And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention dear Shanester here, who bought me a shoe rack for Christmas a couple years ago. Thanks, Shanester. I gave him a list of stuff I wanted that year and every single thing he got me came from that list, except for the shoe rack. He knew I needed one and he kindly encouraged me to use it. Ahh yes, I did need one. And I use it.

I think the trick, with a gift, is to pay attention. You know your friends and family. Listen to them when they are just chatting away, and you'll discover interesting things. When Christmas comes around, you'll know exactly what to do. I'm so fortunate my family sometimes knows me better than I know myself. Or they were so darn sick of the piles of shoes. Either way, I truly have benefited. Thanks, guys.

Monday, September 22, 2008

my favorite joke

A woman decided she didn't like her husband anymore, but to avoid a messy divorce, she planned to hire a hitman. She didn't really know where to start, so she opened the phone book and looked under "Hitmen," and called the first one on the list: Artie the Assassin.

"Hello?" Artie answered.

"Yes, hello, I'd like to have my husband um, disposed of," she replied.

"Well you're in the right place! Just give me the details and I can take care of it tomorrow," Artie said.

"OK. Every day after work, about 5 o'clock, my husband drives his purple punchbuggy with yellow flowers to the Safeway to pick up groceries for dinner. I guess that is as good a time as any to take care of it," she said.

"No problem, will do," Artie said.

"What about cost?," she inquired.

"Well, actually, you're my very first customer. Because I'm new in the business, I'll cut you a break and will do this deal for just one dollar."

"Wow! Thanks Artie," and the plan was made.

The next day, Artie was waiting at Safeway and sure enough, at 5 pm, in came a purple punchbuggy with yellow flowers and out hopped the targeted husband.

Artie runs up to the guy, grabs him by the neck, and strangles him dead.

Meanwhile, a bagger helping load groceries into another customer's car, sees the commotion and tries to intervene. Artie, a total professional, finishes off the husband then turns to the bagger and proceeds to strangle him until he falls down dead.

As this is going on, the store manager calls the police, then tries to save his customer and employee. Unfortunately, Artie begins strangling him as well, and he falls down dead.

The police come and apprehend Artie.

So. What is the headline in the newspaper the next day?

drumroll




"Artie chokes 3 for $1 at Safeway."

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

safeway should totally pay me

My good deed for the day:

I missed the mailman. I had 5 letters I wanted to get out today. Safeway, up the road, has mail pick up at 12:30 pm. Sure I could make it if I drove, but what if I walked? Some pleasant cardiovascular activity for the day! So, I strapped on the Wes-man in a baby carrier (handmade for me by Melani, thank you thank you!), and we started a walk.

To give you frame of reference, I live at about 29th, and Safeway is at about 37th. Not too far. A good walk. Even a hill or two.

But then!

I remembered I saw a Safeway cart in front of the apartments next door. Some looney no doubt dumped it; how rude.

I grabbed the cart! And off on our journey...

Until!

Halfway there, I came across another ditched Safeway cart. Wowsers!

So, imagine: Me, with a squirmy baby strapped to my chest, my bills in one hand, two nestled Safeway carts in the other, crossing Highway 99 (i.e., busy thoroughfare) at lunch time, with beads of sweat on my forehead and a look of determination in my eye. Success. I arrived at the P.O. drop box on time, and Safeway got two AWOL carts safely returned.

What a fun morning!

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

w.g.g., s.o.s., p.d.q.


This is a post for moms and dads. HELP, PLEASE!

I am writing about sleep. Baby sleep.

When Wesley was born, we had to wake up every 2 hours to feed him so he'd gain weight. After that, he would wake up every 2 or 3 hours on his own to eat. All fine and good, since he was a tiny baby!

Eventually, it morphed into 4, 5, 6, or 7 hours of continuous sleep at night. The heavens shone down on us! I was such a happy mama, and the envy of all my friends!

Then something happened. I think it started in August-ish when it got sososososo hot. Really hot. He would wake up every 3 hours again. Ergh! I attributed it to the heat, fed him, consoled him, put him back down, no problem.

But it kept going.

OK, so perhaps it's a growth spurt. I have other friends who said, "oh yeah, my baby did the same thing at 3 months and in 2 weeks we were back to 5 hours at night."

But it's been much more than 2 weeks for me. And this is still going on.

Why won't the boy sleep? Last night I was up every hour from 3 until 8, either feeding him or reswaddling him and begging him to go back to sleep or listening to him cry or crying myself. It was awful.

At one point, a couple weeks ago, we tried the "let him soothe himself to sleep" thing, where he cried some and and we comforted him some but left the room while he was still awake. It worked OK for a few days, but then we kinda let it go since we have to be in the mood for the "give and take" that generally ensues. But lately, we haven't even had a chance to try it, because when the boy gets fussy around 7 or 7:30 pm, I just feed him and he immediately conks out. (Which I understand poses a problem itself, his dependency to "nurse to sleep." So there are more issues for me.)

So what do I do? I have Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, but finding time to actually read it is impossible. When Wesley's asleep, I want to be asleep. I am utterly exhausted. Sleep deprivation is a form of torture -- waking someone up just as they get to that REM cycle.

Plus, I read one chapter or so of the book and tried to implement it. The author said if the baby is tired, put him to sleep no matter how early it is and you'll be surprised that he'll sleep through until this normal awake time and no earlier. Since common sense would say if I usually put him to bed at 8 pm, and every day we wake up at 8 am, if I shifted the bedtime up an hour, the awake time would shift as well. The book argues otherwise.

So one day, we put Wesley to bed at 6:45 pm since he was in rare form. But it didn't work, and he was roaring to go at 7 am the next morning, a Sunday. I was so upset I cried.

Some other things to consider:
  • I've been pretty proud of myself for establishing 8 am as our "awake time." If he wakes up prior to 8 am, I'll go in there and reswaddle him and calm him down and tell him it's not time to get up for the day. I'll put him down and go back to sleep myself, and usually he is OK with that! It's been a total high point in my baby-training life.
  • We have a really good bedtime routine I've been doing for a couple months now. We change him into PJs, read a couple books (many are "bedtime"-oriented books), then I nurse him with only the nightlight on and some jazz music playing, then I swaddle him and we say a prayer, and I lay him down to sleep. Usually, he's asleep by that time, but sometimes he's not.
  • Yesterday it dawned on me that maybe I wasn't feeding him enough during the day so he needed more nutrients at night. Every time he got a bit fussy during the day I fed him. He must have fed 10 times, usually once every 1.5 hours. That's much more than I fed him previously. But, as you can see, he was still up 1,500 times during the night so it didn't work.
  • He takes naps during the day. Yesterday he took three 40-45-minute naps, which I thought was an absolute victory. He sometimes takes 2- and 3-hour naps, but it's not consistent.
  • Sometimes even though he's ridiculously tired he fights the naps, in those cases I generally do 10 minutes on, 10 minutes off... which means for 10 minutes I console him while he's inconsolable, then I take a break for 10 minutes and see if he can console himself. It generally goes on for 40 minutes before he finally goes to sleep. We've done the 10/10 idea at night, too, but usually at night he is better about going to sleep (perhaps because it's dark out?).
  • He hasn't pooed for a couple days. I partly think he's working on one, and maybe that's agitating?
  • The nurse from the pediatrician's office says that it isn't too early for teething. He is only 3.5 months! I'd die if he was teething.
I guess that's all for now. I feel so helpless. I know this boy needs his beauty rest, but he refuses to sleep. What can I do?

Please help.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

pass the veggies, please

I've decided I want to become a vegetarian. I told Shane, and he told me he'd leave me. How sad is that? Well, specifically, he said he would not leave me if I still agreed to cook meat for him. And I really wouldn't want to do that, so I guess our marriage would be over. Hmm.

It all started when I heard from two different sources about a local farm taking orders for its cows. What? Yes. You can order like a quarter of a cow or a half of a cow, and then they slaughter the cow and you get the meat fresh from the farm. It cuts out the middle man (a grocery store), and you know where your meat came from and that it was organic or grain-fed or whatever. Plus, you're supporting the local guy. It all sounds so nice, right?

Well, not to me. I just can't come to terms with the fact that there's a nice little cow frolicking through the meadows right now, enjoying the sunshine, mooing with glee, who in a couple weeks could be on my dinner table.

It reminds me of an experience I had as a teenager. I went on a Pioneer Trek where for five days or something I wore bloomers and long sleeves in the unbearable heat of summer and pushed a handcart and ate gruel, all in the spirit of appreciating the pioneers and living how they lived. Well, one evening, as a "special treat," we had a bunch of chickens brought in and the kids (yes, us) could chop off their heads and help our chaperones prepare them for dinner.

Yeah, right. I did not have any of that chicken. But lots of my friends did. I couldn't deal with it.

Also as of late, I'm working my way through an old stack of Reader's Digest magazines I've never read, circa 2005. There is a personal narrative by this woman who set a goal to cook all 500 recipes from some Julia Child cookbook in one year. Her story was mainly about preparing the lobster recipes, specifically how you have to buy the lobsters alive and cook them at home. She elaborated on how she became a "mass murderer," as she put it, and how it got easier the more she did it. She commented on how each victim was different, like how one lobster was quiet in the back seat of her car, while another clapped away and roamed around in its paper bag. It pained me to read it. Plus, she went on about preparing some type of delicacy where you start slicing and dicing the lobster while it is still alive.

Do you see why I want to be a vegetarian?

I have a friend who is a vegetarian because she doesn't like the taste and texture of meat. My neice became a vegetarian when her brother brought home his first hunting kill, a buck, in a big bloody mess. I'd be doing it for the same reasons as her: so I'm not eating something that used to be cute and cuddly. I mean, even the "how's it going, Bob?" lobsters on Finding Nemo are cute and somewhat cuddly.

The odds are stacked against me: I like cheeseburgers and pork-kabobs and barbeque chicken. I can think of maybe two dishes currently in my dinner rotation which are meat-free. Any nutritionist will say you need "lean protein" as part of a healthy diet. Plus, it's just plain hard to say "no" every time someone prepares a meaty dinner for you.

sigh

In all honestly, I doubt it will happen. Although I really wish I had the willpower to do it. I really really do.

I guess for now, I'll be grateful that the grocery store acts as the middle man and I can disassociate where my meat actually came from. I'm just one of those people that can't think about it.

And I'll never cook lobster. Ever.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

it's not mother's day, but...

Yesterday was AWESOME. Shanester, me, AND the Wes-man went to the BYU/UW football game at Husky Stadium on UW campus. Yes, a 3-month-old amid thousands of fans. I can say though for a fact that he was not the youngest attendee; I saw smaller babies and it made me feel less of a bad parent. I mean, it was loud at times.

But, we had a blast. Our seats were nosebleed, which actually turned out quite awesome. When Wesley started fussing a bit in the 2nd quarter, Shane took him to the very tippy top, where he rocked the little guy to sleep (can you imagine? at a football game, our son fell asleep!). To give you an idea of how high up that was, the rows at the stadium go A to Z, then AA to ZZ, THEN AZ and on. The highest row in the stadium is GZ. And there we were. It was great. We could see the field, we could spread out, Wesley could cry, it was awesome.

I cheered for BYU; Shane cheered for UW. BYU won. YAY! A very close, very good game.

Toward the end of the game, something happened that has gotten me thinking. Heidi tells the story best in her blog; go read it there for a teary-eyed entry. However, here is my more boring synopsis of what happened:

One of the Husky players was down. We all watched as a whole bunch of medics surrounded him and an ambulance drove onto the field. Then, there was some commotion on the other side of the field. Shane noticed that someone had come down from the stands and was rushing onto the field. Of course the person was restrained, but then the security guards finally let her go. She ran across the field to the injured player. It was his mother.

(As a funny sidenote, you never really realize how fast the football players run until you see a normal person run on the field.)

So, she ran to her injured son. I got to thinking about how I'd feel if my little boy was injured. Then, I got to thinking about my own mother, and the wonderful things in my life I have to thank her for. She has taught me so much. No one is perfect, and I know we've had our share of arguments over spilled milk, but when I look back on my life and childhood, I am so thankful for my mom. I had a great childhood, and I feel like I'm a well-adjusted, confident, normal adult -- thanks to my parents.

(all the girls: Leslie, Melani, me, and Mom)

Some things to note about my mom:

  • My mom was always so good talking on the phone! She could go from an exasperated "Angela be nice to your brothers! You're giving me grief," to "Hello?" as sweetly as one could imagine. I always thought it was hilarious. I had to answer a lot of calls at my job, and when I really got into it I saw a lot of my mom in myself.

  • My mom loves lists and little piles. I love lists and little piles! I have so much running through my head (especially as a mom myself!) that I thrive on lists, crossing things off one at a time as I revel in my productivity. And, when I'm organizing and cleaning house, I've been known to makes piles of papers all over the floor before anything gets put away. Receipts, bills, magazine articles to save, mail from friends, etc. Little piles, dotting the living room floor.

  • My mom was always so enthusiastic and optimistic about things. I think she always saw opportunities for fun. On vacations, she'd be organized with coupon books and travel guides so we had all these plans of cultural, relatively inexpensive and interesting things to do. And then, she always saw the positive in situations, even if things didn't turn out like we'd hoped for or planned. I try to be that way, too.

  • My mom always spent one-on-one time with me. When I went to early-morning seminary at Church, even when I was old enough to get out of bed and drive myself, she'd get up so we could pray together before I left. She bought these day-to-day calendars with little quotes, and we'd read our quotes every day. Another thing I remember, ha ha, is that she'd let me watch Beverly Hills 90210 (the original!) and we'd stay up afterwards "talking about" what happened during the episode. It wasn't the most morally clean show, and it presented many opportunities for discussion on choice and accountability.

  • My mom also taught me to give people the benefit of the doubt. I remember as I grew up there were girls from school or Church that annoyed the heck out of me. I'd come home and bad-mouth them, and my mom would alway rush to their defense. She'd say, "Angela, they're just trying to fit in." She taught me a powerful lesson. We all are just trying to fit in. I shouldn't judge other people when I don't know all the facts, and I should just keep my mouth shut sometimes.

  • My mom taught me how to pray. I think as a kid, when it was mom's turn to say family prayer, I'd be like "oh great, here we go," because sometimes she'd go on and on and on. But now that I'm older, I know how she felt. She was talking to Heavenly Father, pleading with him to watch over her children and help her run her home. I feel the same way now that it's my turn to be in those shoes.

  • Most importantly, my mom always taught me that I could do anything. I seriously believed from a young age that I could be the President of the United States if I wanted to (I don't want to!). She instilled in me an incredible amount of confidence. I remember that as I finished up a test at BYU and handed it in, along with the wave of relief and anxiety that comes with finishing a test, I'd think to myself, "no matter what, my mom loves me." It didn't matter how well I did. I usually did well -- sometimes I didn't! -- but I always felt secure that I did my best, and that is what mom expected. She knew I could do it.
I suppose I could go on forever. I hope you all can see opportunities in your lives to think of your mothers and thank her for what she did for you. I mean, someone had to suffer through labor and delivery for all of us! That's no easy task (and I speak from personal experience).

Thank you so much, Mom. I hope I can be as good a mother to my son as you were to me.

Friday, September 5, 2008

life with baby

Short post today; I'm working on some fabulous ones in my head but this will do for now. We've got some new Wesley pics, posted here.

To give you a hint of their absolute cuteness:


That one's totally my favorite. Love the tongue. Note the Bumbo seat, which I got off Craigslist for $15! WHOO HOO! Those suckers retail for $40 or more.

In related news, yesterday I painted all 10 fingers and all 10 toes a metallic rose color, courtesy Avon, for the first time as a mother. I feel so fabulous! I really missed the glamour of freshly painted nails.

Little guy is currently sleeping. Nap away!