Head for the hills!

As of 3:30 tomorrow morning, lippoldtHAUS is on vacation! Yeah! We will be heading south to the heat, humidity, and hilarity of the Ozarks--or, more specifically, Branson--for a week. A whole week, can you stand it?

We promise to take plenty of pictures and will return next week with, I'm sure, a bevy of stories to tell. Perhaps, if you're good, you'll even get a "post" card (get it?) from Missouri.

See you next week!

PS--I understand that there is a large meteor on its way towards Earth. In the event that it doesn't miss us, rest assured that lippoldtHAUS will survive. At least, if that movie "Deep Impact" is correct--everyone who went to the Ozark mountains survived! Ha!

What more can I say?

Mad props to dooce on this one. Click on the image to find out what prompted such signage.

Three Months

Dear Zoe,

I don't know what to say kid other than that you simply light up my life. The "fourth trimester" is at an end and you are just a delightful little girl.

You truly like to play now, and we have a great time just making silly noises together. I have become an utterly sappy person, because every time your face lights up or you "squeal in delight" it brings tears to my eyes. In some ways, I'm grateful that we had such a difficult time at the start because these happy, fun moments are all the better. Some days we may never leave the house, but we are having a great time blowing raspberries, counting your toes, and playing "Flying Zoe"--your favorite. In fact, any game that involves rapid-fire smooches on your cheeks really makes you smile.

I think best of all has been the bond that's growing between you and your dad. Last week I brought you into Suncast to show you off to Dad's co-workers. You were, of course, cute as could be while we waited in the reception area. But, once he appeared you burst into a huge smile that melted the Polar ice caps. You were a real charmer that day--even chattering in front of strangers!--and your dad was the proudest papa there could be. He is the one person that makes you squeal loudest of all. In fact, some of my favorite moments are when he goes to change your diaper first thing in the morning. I lay in bed, waiting for you to come eat, and listen to the two of you playing. You make such a delightful raucous! Although, he says that's because you're scolding him for rubbing his nose in your belly.

You have been out-and-about so much more this month, and have been a trooper each time. On one of the hottest days all summer, you slept contentedly in your stroller throughout the whole of Momma's bellydance show. You even happily participated in the last dance, causing many ooh's and aah's in the audience. We've been to the park for a playdate with Ella and Jordan (Eleanor just loves you and can't wait for you to want to play with her!), shopping at the mall with Susan, and lunch out. You're even making new friends in our stroller fitness class, where there are two other babies within a few weeks of you. Maybe when you're older, as you read this, they will still be friends.

True, our days together have become more routine and predictable. We both seem to know what's going on. But, you are still changing every minute. You continue to amaze us with your growth--I actually packed away all your 0-3 month clothing over the weekend. You are just so strong, and continue to prefer being on your feet to laying on your tummy. When we practice holding your head steady while I pull you up, you refuse to stop at sitting. As soon as you get onto your bum, you dig your heels in and push yourself up to standing. You are rolling all over the place, but can't seem to decide if you really want to be on your belly and so stop on your side. You are fascinated with everything around you, and look around like crazy when taken into an unfamiliar room. Your dad was holding you on his lap the other day and spinning in his chair. He said that as he turned, your eyeballs kept whirling about like a dizzy cartoon character, trying to keep up. It made him laugh out loud!

Right now you are sleeping peacefully in your playyard (gotta get used to it, kid!) and your dad is calling me to bed. Sleep is wonderful, but so much better when it will be your smiles and coos that greet me in the morning. Even if it is 3:45.

I love you, kiddo!

Momma

A Technicality

Since my mom is out of town but still reading this, and probably the only person who has attempted to order prints from Flickr:

Since yesterday, any new photos added are good enough to produce excellent prints. Silly me, but when I upgraded to the Flickr Pro account, I forgot to change my upload settings to allow me to post the best quality pictures. As a result, if you try to order prints of any pictures prior to 6/21/06, they will be grainy and not so nice. I may go back and replace some of the older photos with the larger file. Or I may not.

By the way, this only applies if I've marked you as Friend or Family.

Thumbsucker

In the past week or so, Zoe has really discovered her hands. Since she was born, she has always been pretty good with her hands. She could grab one with the other or support her bottle (when she felt like it). But, she never really seemed aware of the fact that that was what she was doing--that she was using her hands. All of sudden, she now realizes "Hey! That's part of me!" and her hands are the most fascinating things in the room. As long as the TV isn't on.

So now, her hands are always occupied and usually in her mouth. The other day, she was trying ever so hard to get her thumb--just her thumb--in her mouth. It was just adorable because she couldn't stick out her thumb without opening her whole fist wide. She would look at you with her fingers spread wide covering her face, while she gleefully chewed on her thumb. Oh, was she pleased with herself. I have this feeling that, by the time we leave on vacation, Zoe will be grabbing other items and shoving them into her mouth. Wonderful.

Oh, and if this all wasn't enough cuteness: in discovering she has hands, Zoe likes to wring them together. As if she is joyfully plotting total world domination. I have a feeling that those times I spy Nala leaving Zoe's room as she "naps", they have just had the following conversation:

Nala: Gee, Zoe, what are we going to do tonight?

Zoe: The same thing we do every night, Nala--try to take over the world!

Gotta dance!

Well, I did it! A solo performance at a public event. I was completely supressing how much I was nervous over the past couple of weeks and after it was all over I just felt exhausted. But, I think it went well! Overall, Prairiefest was a great success . . . despite the crazy prairie wind that destroyed any chance of perfect veil dances. Each event we do, I am reminded how much I love the dance. What makes it all the more special is the wonderful women with whom I dance and this sense of sisterhood we have. To think that just a couple of years ago I did not even know any of them!

I was thinking, however, about what "people" perceive bellydancing to be, what it actually is (at least for me), and how twisted public thought can be. Just before we performed, there was a performance by a local dance school. All these young girls (I think there may have been one boy) who were showcasing what they had learned in their lessons. You know, hip-hop, jazz, ballet, tap, etc. It really bothered me to see these girls done up like streetwalkers, wearing skin-tight, skimpy outfits, and performing sexually suggestive maneuvers to sexually suggestive music in a public venue. That is OK, yet most people think bellydancers are strippers?

Don't get me wrong--I am a girl. I loved dressing up, not to mention shaking my groove thing. I didn't ever really take dance classes where we had a recital like this. But, I know people who did. When did we go from a cute tap routine to "Good Ship Lollipop", to dancing to Janet Jackson's "Black Cat" in black pleather, fishnets, and bondage collars? These weren't teenagers, either! We're talking 10-year-old girls. It is truly no wonder that girlhood is in the crisis it is. I kept thinking that if Zoe were taking classes at this school, there is no way I, as her mother, would allow her to perform those pieces. But, my mom was expressing concern at introducing her to bellydancing so young.

There are all these thoughts swirling around my head after experiencing such a dichotomy yesterday. Like, do those girls truly feel good about themselves? What about the ones who aren't long and wiry, squeezed into those ridiculous costumes? And, the difference between sensual and sexual. Apparently, the experience seemed to touch several of us in the troupe as Isis wrote about it in an email. She pondered over the fact that this dance group had what seemed to be 50 girls performing. We have only 2. It seems--I don't know--maybe sad, ironic, or outright depressing that so few girls participate in bellydance, probably, because their parents view it as exotic dancing. Yet, the dance schools they enroll their daughters in parade them around dolled up like the ladies at Diamonds. At the same time, grown women are finding healed self esteem, sisterhood, and empowerment in bellydance.

Zoe has pretty much been born into the bellydance community. I hope she enjoys the dance with me. If she doesn't, that's OK. And, if she'd rather learn tap or jazz or ballet, that's fine, too. But, only if she feels good and it and herself. And only if she is allowed to be a girl who grows into her sexuality and isn't driven into it prematurely.

Hello?

You may have noticed that I've been a bit lax in my posting lately. Very few new photos, very little news. I do have a reason. It's called PrairieFest. You see, my belly dance troupe (Women of the Well, or WoW, or those cool chicks I dance with) is performing at PrairieFest again this year. Wonderful! Exciting! We even got an article in the local paper. But, oh, the costuming!

Normally, creating two whole costumes from scratch wouldn't be such a big deal. The pieces used in belly dance are actually quite simple. However, in case you didn't notice, I have a 2-month-old. Who, up until last week, did not take regular naps. Alone. So, the last week and a half has been a scramble to get it all done in time for dress rehearsal tonight. And it is. Yeah! I totally feel like super-mom.

Rest assured that Zoe is well (a whopping 14 pounds, according to my parents' scale--which was accurate last weigh-in with the doc's), BJ is counting the days to vacation, and I am slowly working on my tan. There will be pictures galore post-PrairieFest. Plus, brother Rob's got his girlfriend coming into town. I hope he told her that she'll be making internet appearances if she spends any time with this family.

And so it begins . . .

Zoe's corruption by goofy looking, babbling television icons has started. And it's all my fault.

The other day, it occurred to me that Zoe's chatter sounded a lot like the Teletubbies'. And, I realized that many years ago I had given BJ a stuffed, talking Po for some asinine reason. "What," I wondered, "would Zoe think of the talking Po?" I have never seen her get so excited in my life. She gazed into Po's unblinking painted eyeballs, so similar to her own in size and shape. She reached out for Po's red, fuzzy body. And as I pressed her staticky tummy, Zoe sat transfixed at Po's breathy sighs. And she talked back. For 15 minutes they had a delightful conversation, Zoe grinning the whole time.

No wonder a generation of children became so enamored with the 'tubbies! I'm just not sure I'm ready for all of this . . .

No Clothes, or Talking About My Boobs Again

Summer weather seems to have arrived for good and I have nothing to wear. Every woman's lament, huh? I really hate to be one of those women who complain about her post-baby body but . . . I'm going to be.

No, wait. I'm not complaining about my body. I'm complaining about my stupid wardrobe. I am effectively back to my pre-preggers weight. But, my clothes do not fit. I have a grand total of: 3 skirts, 2 pair of capris, and 2 pair of shorts that fit. We're not even going to talk about my shirts because My. God. My boobs! BJ would think the above list is sufficient. And, despite my clothes-horse ways, it might be since I don't really go anywhere. However, when it is Zoe's goal to soak at least one item I am wearing on a daily basis . . . well, I have to change clothes as often as Sibyl changes personalities.

Why doesn't anything fit? Or, fit well (because if I suck or pinch, I can squeeze in)? Number one: my boobs. Taking out the need to get at them easily to nurse, my tees and tanks are all too short now and I cannot button a single button-down that I own. Reason number two: my hips. I have always had a good booty. BJ says it's the contribution of my Puerto Rican biological father. I used to think I looked out of proportion. Now, though, the boobs (again!) visually minimize my behind but I've suddenly developed hips. Yeah, I know, Zoe had to get out somehow. I just happen to own all these lame bottoms that are cut to fit a 12-year-old boy. Damn the fashion industry! Sure, if I hike stuff up to my actual waist (do you realize how high that is?) it will fit. But this is 2006. I am never again going to wear pants, or skirts, or shorts, that high. They may as well be at my chin!

I guess there's nothing left to do but shop. Zoe doesn't really need all those diapers anyway.