lippoldtHAUS

Getaway

2009-11-12T23:07:00.001-06:00

I'm off! Where? Well, to bed right now. But, tomorrow morning the girls and I are heading to Ann Arbor for the Great Lakes Belly Dance Convention. Holla! Three days away from home with some of my favorite girlfriends, relaxing and dancing. I haven't had a girls' weekend like this in two years and I am sooo looking forward to it. I do have a tinge of guilt. Not because I'm leaving BJ with the kids for a weekend. Not at all! Besides, I hear he's got Papa Don lined up for some grandkid time. No, I feel a little guilty only because Owen's not been sleeping well at all since his surgery and he's a little cranky/needy. I just realized this will be the first time away from him overnight since he was born. Wow. That's been a long time. It's about time.

Really! I love my kids, but some me-time is pretty necessary. Because, while I'm away from them every day, time at work is in no way, shape or form "me-time".

So, since I've committed to this blog-a-day NaBloPoMo business, I'll post briefly while I'm gone. Perhaps I'll document a bit of the hilarity that is bound to ensue when you have a hotel full of belly dancers.

One more thing she’ll hate me for

2009-11-11T20:48:00.001-06:00

Recently, Zoë has been getting a lot of hygiene lessons from us. Personal hygiene lessons. You know, wiping thoroughly, front-to-back, washing carefully kinds of things. Mostly from me because, well, BJ does not have first-hand experience with the female undercarriage. In our household, we don't use any code words or kiddie names for anatomy. We believe in calling a body part by its appropriate name. You wouldn't teach a little tot to call their arm a "waggly thing" – that would be silly. We're just the liberal, hippie type that figure using the anatomical names kind of "neutralizes" the parts, I guess. They are neither good nor bad, they just are. Like your arm. So, Zoë knows what her vulva and vagina are and where they are located. There – got both the "v" words out in one sentence. Part of these lessons are the traditional "good-touch, bad-touch" and "private v. public" tidbits. But, I found myself having to reiterate the "private" point this evening. You see, Zoë made up a song. It goes like this:

"Vagina! Vagina!

Vagina, vagina, vagina!

Who likes their vagina?

Vagina! Vagina!"

Seriously – do all 3-year-olds make up songs about their body parts? Because she is not the first kid I've heard that does this. Anyway, I felt it necessary to ask her if this was a song she should sing just at home or everywhere. She informed me it was just for mommy and daddy, "and maybe the doctor." Because, you know, we're all about our kids being comfortable with their bodies but aren't really thrilled with the prospect of her preschool teacher asking us about such a delightful little ditty. Or her sharing it with the rest of the check-out line at Target.

Can you hear me now?

2009-11-10T18:47:00.001-06:00

About 9 months ago, I ditched Sprint as my wireless carrier. My contract was up and I was tired of having to recharge my phone *all the time* because I couldn't get a signal at work and the dang thing spent the whole day trying. Lame. My life is now much improved thanks to the superior coverage of Verizon. I can hear you all now.

This morning, Owen woke up with Sprint ears. For the last 2 months (maybe more), nothing has been coming through for him, try as he may. Poor kid had molasses in his ears. And he kept up the happy, active front until he would just crash by 4:30 or 5. He was zonked every day. But now? Thanks to our skillful ENT, a couple of tiny, plastic eyelets and, well, decent health insurance, Owen is making the switch to Verizon ears. It'll be funny to see if he responds to noises differently ...

In other news, Zoe is sitting here now watching the old animated Transformers movie. Cracks me up. Can you believe that Bumblebee tops her xmas list?

~Kate~

It's so cute

2009-11-09T21:33:00.003-06:00

Because this weekend was so beautiful, I got the kids over the park. Owen had his first wagon ride with Zoe - he giggled with glee as though this were the best idea ever - and actually got to explore the park a little under his own power. I cannot wait for spring. It is going to be fun. I shot a little video of the little gentleman walking about:

http://www.vimeo.com/7528281

Sorry about the quality - I only had my phone with me. (and right now I'm waiting for the video to convert - I'll embed when it's done)

Beware the angry pilgrim

2009-11-08T21:07:00.000-06:00

I realize this weekend was beautiful - bright sunshine, warm temperatures, soft breezes. Just a couple of picture perfect indian summer days. I also realize that, this being November, many people took advantage of the great weather and put up their outdoor Christmas lights. I can understand the motivation - this is northern Illinois, after all. This kind of weather cannot last and we are more likely to have snow this coming weekend and all subsequent weekends than to have a repeat of this past weekend. I get it. However, just because you have your Christmas lights up already does not mean you need to turn them on.

You have been warned.

It's magic.

2009-11-07T20:09:00.001-06:00

About 2 months ago, a friend and I took our daughters to the Harry Potter exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry. It was as much (okay, more) for us as it was for them. At the end, as they exit you through the gift shop (ugh - parental torture), Zoe found a plush dragon she wanted. At $20, it was easy to turn down. But, certain I could find the same thing cheaper elsewhere, told her I would get her one some other time. She was satisfied.
So, today at B&N, back in the kids' books, I found a gorgeous blue and silver dragon. With a little help from BJ, I was able to grab it without being seen. While she was taking her bath, I put it on her bed.
"Momma! What is that?"
"What?"
"It's a dragon! How did it get there? Who put it there?"
"I don't know - it must be magic."
(Cock-eyed face) "Well, I really wanted a green dragon."
"You did?! I thought blue was your favorite color."
"Well, a different kind of blue. This blue coordinates ... (Wide eyes, face lights up) It's fantastic!"
She thinks it crawled up magically from behind her bed to see her because she behaved today during all our errands. She's curled up in bed with it now.
Magic.
~Kate~

Marry a techie

2009-11-06T18:14:00.002-06:00

Hooray! I think my template code issues are resolved, many thanks to the extra pair of eyes in my husband (and his kindness in assuming that I knew what he was talking about when he told me the solution). Now to complete work on my "about" and "reads" pages ...

But, not tonight! It's Friday, Owen is now in bed (poor little guy), Zoe is enjoying a daddy-date making play-dough, and I am off to put my feet up and enjoy a beer. Salud!

Side effects may include …

2009-11-05T18:42:00.002-06:00

Took a little trip to the ENT this morning … again. I'm sure I've mentioned before – we love our ENT. He is wonderful. Good thing, since we've been there a lot in the last 2 years. But we're not sure we quite enjoy the frequency with which we see him. This time it was Owen's turn. He's still battling the same ear infection he's had since the end of September, so we're headed down the tubes road with child #2. Hooray!

But, before we left, BJ asked the doctor if he should make another appointment for an ear issue he has been having (he saw him about 2 months ago). Being the wonderful doctor he is – and, I'm sure, realizing we're his best patients so he owes us – he went right ahead and took a look. We got out of there with a prescription for Owen, a date for Owen's surgery, and a prescription for BJ. A really fun prescription for BJ. Just take a look at the common side effects:

Yes, that says "feeling a whirling motion." And he has to take 6 pills on the first day. Woo hoo! What a ride! Actually … all those side effects together sound like a wild night at the bar … hmm …

Childhood needs a speed limit

2009-11-04T18:44:00.002-06:00

We're standing just this side of the border between Owen's first year and his second, and (cliché! cliché!) I cannot believe how quickly we've arrived. Time with the second child absolutely moves faster than with just the one, but it is not as if the time with that first child continues to pass relatively more slowly. Every day that passes, Zoë grows more and more into this independent girl. It is at the same time charming and horrifying.

This school year, we started setting an alarm clock for Zoë in the morning. Getting two kids up, dressed, and out the door by 6:30 was proving a challenge, and the time it was taking to gently rouse her (she sleeps like a 14-year-old boy) and get her moving … well, it just wasn't working. Plus, she was a total crab. And thus, we were leaving the house later and later. So, we taught her how to use the alarm clock, set it for 6:00 AM, and gave her instructions to get up, use the bathroom, and wait for me to finish getting her dressed. Shortly after we started this routine, which had a few hiccups but was mostly successful, Zoë's alarm clock – which had been my alarm clock in college, like, 49 years ago – broke. She actually had fun picking out a new one (it changes colors!) and learning how to use it. Just a little more reinforcement for her big girl routine.

There is a point here. The past few mornings, Zoë has been getting up on her own before her alarm goes off. This morning, I heard her get up, use the bathroom, and wash up. Moments later, I catch a glimpse of her in my bathroom mirror walking to my bedside table to pick up a book. "Good morning, Zoë!" She pads into the bathroom, slippers on (having donned them herself) and cheerfully greeted me. It just struck me, the way she is taking on these personal responsibilities now, and not even asking for a reward the way she used to. Like last night, when she took a bath and got ready for bed "on her own." Certainly, I ran the bath, but she played, washed, got out, dried off, brushed her teeth, and almost got into her pajamas (they are snug) without help. Just some supervision from me. She keeps giving us these glimpses, which are becoming more like short films, of the girl she is.

So, why am I horrified? She's cute. She knows it. And she is becoming an expert negotiator. Independent, strong-willed Zoë at 3? Charming, precocious, manageable. Zoë at 13? Should I find my own therapist now?

Momma's Boy

2009-11-03T17:57:00.002-06:00

Owen loves his momma. Yup - he loves me a lot. It is sweet, adorable, and I just want to snuggle his soft head all day. But, I have to go to work every morning. And I have class one night a week. Work, school, homework, kids, husband ... and I thought I had no time for myself before? Seriously - I acknowledge that I got myself into this predicament, but it is still a bit of a bummer when my craft pile is building, the house is a mess, and (horror of all horrors!) the DVR is full. Think of all that TV I am missing! Travesty, I know.

When I woke up Owen this morning, he was so happy to see me that he was physically agitated. There is no other word. He was shaking, bouncing, panting with glee. It warmed my heart. He spent the time at home this morning chattering and playing and giggling. Then I had to leave him at daycare. He has not cried at daycare drop-off since the first week. He cried today, and I knew it was because he missed me. He felt cheated because he hadn't seen me since the same time yesterday and thought he was finally going to get some mom-time. I don't blame him!

Truly, this is the best time to get this certificate. Zoe understands what I am doing and one night a week is no big to her (hey - it's usually fun time with dad!). And neither of the kids will have any clear recollection of this in a few years. But it is definitely hard to know that Owen is missing me now ... and I miss his little head, too.

Somebody has a case of the Mondays

2009-11-02T15:00:00.000-06:00

And that somebody is me. Taking time off because of a death in the family is never something you wish for, but 5 straight days away from work certainly shifts the routine. Add in all the missed work, a half-day meeting and facing another 6 hours of required focus (class tonight) ... I have the blahs.

Remind me to tell you about the momentary lapse in sanity that resulted in me signing on to another graduate program ... Yeah.

On the up side, a local hospital bought me Panera today! And I have more for dinner! Panera - yeah! Plus, I don't have to wait in line with the kids this afternoon for the H1N1 shots. I love my husband. L.O.V.E.

It's all about perspective, right?
~Kate~

Work In Progress

2009-11-01T20:52:00.002-06:00

Alright, so this is embarrassing. Over 5 months without a post. Cripes. I'll give you all two guesses as to what contributed to this lapse in posting.

So, I'm back. I think. Working on the design, yet again - I do this with my home, as well. Enough time goes by and I need a change. Shortly before we got our new tv, I flipped all the furniture in the family room. BJ asks, "Why did we have to change it?" We just did, okay? I did it as a kid, too. One evening I'd get in a mood and would rearrange all my furniture. Sometimes I'd even draw it out, too, with measurements. It is an illness. Switching my blog around? Same thing. As you can tell, there are still some kinks to work out, but it's just motivation to dig in here a little more frequently (ps - if anyone has suggestions for this stinking sidebar issue, I'll take 'em).

One other little motivator? NaBloPoMo. Yes, all, it is National Blog Posting Month. I've tried this before, with little success, and I'm going for it again. I need some type of kick-in-the-pants to get out of these blogging doldrums. I don't like becoming this micro-blogging, twitterpated, fb'er ... and, yes, most of you who (used to) read this know I have fallen victim to the crazes. Blame my crackberry.

So, sorry for the unintended hiatus, watch your step as we re-build, and welcome back. It's time to reclaim my empire.

Ah, Spring

2009-05-17T15:14:00.001-05:00

What may have been another long, weary weekend afternoon has turned in to a relaxing, delightful one. About 10 minutes after putting Zoe down for her nap, Owen woke up from his. Great. Just when I thought I would get a break myself. BJ suggested I bring him outside for a bit while he mowed the lawn.

Owen and I wandered the yard, layed with dandelions and then plopped down on a blanket to watch BJ. He toppled over and then lay on his back in the sunshine, just chilling. I shaded his face and took off his shades. He didn't move. He was just still and calm. So, BJ set up Zoe's princess patio table and umbrella to give him more shade. He eventually fell asleep and I got to put my feet up and read a magazine. It was wonderful.

What a little sun baby.
~Kate~

Get In My Belly

2009-04-26T11:27:00.001-05:00

You know, sometimes you make a meal that is so yummy you can't wait for leftovers the next day. And sometimes there aren't enough leftovers for you and the spouse, so you start making bargains. Negotiations ensue.

To the outsider, last night's dinner was nothing special - ground beef tacos. Seasoned with Lawry's mild taco seasoning. But, piled with Mexican four cheese blend, onions, fresh made guacamole, and Archer Farms pineapple peach salsa? A little slice of heaven, my friends.

I was totally the winner on this one.
~Kate~

Irony welcome here

2009-04-23T20:19:00.002-05:00

After much waiting, a little pleading and hint-dropping, and a lot of patience, I have a smartphone. So now, like the rest of the world that doesn't have an iPhone, I have a crack - I mean, BLACK - berry. I love it. I have not let it loose charge once.

But, that's not what's ironic. See, part of this process, part of the delay, was simply that smartphone plans aren't cheap. BJ and I were heading towards the end of our phone contract and, well, it was cheap. Like, hold-over from the old days cheap. We had a family share plan with, get this, a whopping 300 minutes. And we maybe used 40 of those in a month. Combined. So the enormity of the plans I was looking at was giving BJ heart palpitations.

Finally, after quiet persistence (and, truly, research) on my part, he relented. But, we were going to drop our family plan, send me out on my own, and he was going to have work provide him a phone. Fair enough - if he wasn't calling me to say he was coming home from work, he was receiving texts from this server or that (or something - I don't really know). I figure he was just getting another phone. I mean, when he was ordering Blackberries for the staff at his work he went on and on about how he never wanted one of those things, people could reach him if they wanted, who needs email on a phone . . . Plus, at one point he said to me, "You don't need a data plan on it, right? You just want the calendar." What did he come home with? A Blackberry. A souped-up, my-phone-is-better-than-your-phone Curve 3900 or something.

But it doesn't stop there. Oh no. The man who threw fits when my friends would send me text messages, who didn't quite seem to see the wonders of the wireless data services . . . that guy? He's texting me, like, all the time*.

I feel a little smug.

*Totally an exaggeration. But, 15 times in 2 weeks doesn't sound very impressive. It would look impressive, though, if I graphed his texting behavior over a 2-year period.

5 Months

2009-04-23T19:55:00.002-05:00

Dear Owen,

Hey there, little man – I think we’re actually having some fun! You are, amazingly, five months old this week and I think I like you now. That sounds harsh, I know. To anyone who has not gone through raising a newborn, it may as well be blasphemy. Even to some people who have because, well, they are baby-raising robots or something. But, your mother is not a fan of the early months, and neither you nor your sister has made great strides in changing my opinion of those first 20 weeks or so. In fact, it is almost as if you two saw it as your mission to insure that I never became a fan of the newborn stage. Job well done!

But, we’ve seemingly passed that hurdle and our time together is so much more enjoyable. In the last month, it is like you yawned, stretched and woke up to the world. Where once you really only enjoyed looking at and “talking” to people, you now realize there are things around you. Things that make noise, or light up, or taste good in your mouth. Make that and taste good in your mouth. You like to grab whatever you can reach, stare at it intently, and concentrate very hard on working it between your gums. While everything is deserving of at least a taste, you do have your favorites. The blue chime-y elephant is one you especially like. In fact, blue elephants seem to be a theme when it comes to favorite toys: there’s the blue elephant that shakes and rattles when you pull it (attached to your car seat), the soft blue stuffed elephant that snuggles with you in your crib (whose trunk is easily directed into your mouth by holding the ears), and the blue chime-y elephant on your “play gym.” Interesting . . . Owen, I feel like I need to tell you now that I may disown you if you become a big game hunter.

I think the delightful change in your attitude, your mood, is in large part due to how much more in control you feel. You can grab and move and chew your toys. You can sit up a little and look around. You can even roll over and squirm across the floor. Small distances. Very small distances. But, hey – you did it on your own! It cracks me up how proud you get of yourself. Sometimes, you will be laying on the floor playing with (inevitably) the blue elephant. It gets tossed (“Hey – how’d that happen?”), you track it with your head, then roll over towards it. Then you prop up your little head and look at me as if to say, “Did you just see what I did? I totally just did that!” You are so pleased.

You continue to grow. And eat. I suppose a boy as active as you are needs a lot of fuel. You are now eating three meals a day, just like the big kids. A bit sooner than the pediatrician “advised”, but we cheated anyway by starting the solids at – what? – 13 weeks. You are all about the fruits, mostly because I haven’t gotten around to making many veggies. And yogurt – you love yogurt. I know there are some people who will judge and condemn me because I gave you yogurt before you were six months old. I am a horrible mother. I feed my child a food. That he likes. Oh, and it is organic and healthy for him. You don’t fuss much during the day anymore, but, when you do, it is apparently because the trip the spoon makes from your mouth, to the bowl, and back to your mouth again is not fast enough.

But, truly, Owen, the best part about this month has been the sleeping. Up until about 2 weeks ago, napping was not exactly your strong suit. We’d gotten the bedtime routine down (the 3 Bs: bath, boob, bed), and you were sleeping through the night. Mostly. But you were still treating daytime sleep like the enemy. I wanted to get you napping, but knew Gram didn’t have the cajones to really stick it to you. I mean, you needed to nap! If you slept well during the day, you slept even better at night. So, over spring break, since you were home with me, I set about “nap-training” you. Hurrah! Success! Now you take 2 fairly predictable naps every day. And there is much rejoicing. It is so good for all of us.

The best part of my day is coming to fetch you and Zoë after work. The open-mouthed, gummy, whole-face smile you give me is an incredible reward for even the most trying days. It is funny how you will look and babble at Zoë in the backseat as we drive home. She remains your favorite person . . . sometimes, I think you jabber at her thinking she’s your translator. Like, “You look like someone who can speak my language. Can you tell these people what I’m saying?” You really get a kick out of “chasing” her – I will hold you in a standing position (something you love to begin with), and bob you along the floor after her. You grin and razz and bubble the whole way, until we get her. Then you grab at her face or her hair and lean in close.

So, yeah – I guess it’s been a pretty fun month! Right now you’ve got a cold, again. And despite your snuffliness, you are just as delightful and playful as ever. We won’t talk about last night. Ugh. We haven’t had a night like that in a looong while and I know it was just because you didn’t feel well. But my head is not happy about it today. Come morning, though, you were cheerful and smiling. My “little gentleman.”

What a difference a month makes.

Love,
Momma

3 Years

2009-04-23T19:31:00.002-05:00

3/26/09

Dear Zoë,

Three years old. Three years ago today you reluctantly entered the world. I say reluctantly because, well, you didn’t seem to want to be born. At least not at that day and time. But enter the world you did and when you did the world tilted on its axis just the tiniest bit.

At first, you did not seem too happy with me or your father. Oh, the crying. And the clawing. And the not-sleeping. Almost as if to say, “You’ll pay for pulling me out of my cozy home.” It was so hard, there were times I was not sure if I would make it to the next hour. But, I did. And then I made it to the next day, the next week, the next month . . . Somewhere along the way, you became our daughter and fell in love with us as much as we were in love with you.

Looking back on those early months is a bit surreal. Someone wise – another mother, I’m sure – once told me that it was good I was writing down what it was like adjusting to you because someday I would forget how hard and heart-wracking it was. At the time, I thought that was utter nonsense. But, it makes sense now. I certainly will never forget the experience, but the context is so different now. You are so different now.

You are a good kid. You are a great kid. Wait – that’s just it – you’re a kid! Holy cow . . . there is no way anyone would ever refer to you as a baby. In addition to being a bit tall for your age, you are quite simply your own person now. You have ideas, and dreams, and preferences, and you tell us about them. More than that, you are so aware of the other people around you – how they’re feeling, what they might like, and (though it pains me to see it so soon) what they think about you.

In the past year, your greatest love has been for all things horse. If it has a horse, if it is a horse, hoof-prints, horseshoes, cowboy hats, cowboy boots . . . “Momma, I like horses.” No kidding, kiddo. Anyone who lives in the greater Kendall County area knows that you like horses. Strangely, you have a particular penchant for black horses. Your dad and I discovered that the carousel at the mall is an awesome incentive for you because it has horses. To ride! More specifically, a black horse. “My black horse,” you call it. You do have a very clear understanding that those horses are not real horses, that you are “not big enough” to ride a real horse. You so wisely tell us that, “When I get bigger, I will ride a black horse.”

That doesn’t stop you from asking for a real horse, though. I like to think that one of my best calls as a parent this year was to inform you that Santa Claus does not deliver live animals. Not only did that put a stop to the real-horse-for-Christmas requests, it pretty much negated any future requests for any other furry/scaly, eating and pooping creatures. Go Momma! Unfortunately, you’re too clever for your own good. You’ve given up asking Santa (or the Easter Bunny) for a horse and have gone straight to the source – Momma and Daddy. The excuses we give don’t seem to hold much water for you: that we don’t make enough money, that the home owners’ association wouldn’t allow it, that we don’t have enough room, etc. To curb your appetite, I’ve found myself taking more and more circuitous drives home to make sure we pass at least one ranch or pasture full of horses.

Thank goodness for the housing slow-down.

Have I mentioned that you tell us about things? If there is anything that defines your third year it is the talking. From the moment you get up to the moment we put you to bed – okay, even after we put you to bed – you are talking about something. And true conversation. Complex sentences. Fifty-cent vocabulary. All of it. There is not a week that goes by that your dad and I don’t look at each other and say, “Did she really just say that?”

I am not sure where you get some of it, but school has had a definite impact. When you sat down at dinner several months ago and said, “Mangia! Mangia!” I couldn’t believe my daughter was speaking Italian, all thanks to the adorable mealtime routine you learned (to say nothing of the Spanish and Mandarin you’ve picked up from Noggin). If I have to hold down a job – and, honestly daughter, I do, for reasons way beyond financial – it is an absolute comfort to me to know that you love school. The relationships that you have developed there are so wonderful for you, both with your teachers and your little friends. And you are learning so darn much, I can’t stand it sometimes. Just a week ago, you moved into the Preschool classroom. We knew this was coming, and in some respects it was hard simply because I knew how much you would hate to leave your “2’s” teacher. But as your mom, to walk into that Preschool classroom and see a classroom . . . and then to be told at the end of your first day that you are working on writing your letters . . . it was a bit much.

That transition was definitely a minor source of contention over the past six months or so. Would you be potty trained by your third birthday? Every time someone would ask me about potty training, I would heave a great sigh and proclaim, “Potty training is the bane of my existence.” I realize that all things come in time, kids have their own schedule, “No one’s gone to kindergarten in diapers,” and all, but you had me stumped. Your dad, too. We just didn’t get it. None of the tricks worked, nothing motivated you, and yet you are such a smart, independent little girl. Frustrating to say the least. And, honestly, I know some of my own issues were interfering. I worried that you would be like I was – chronic urinary tract infections, problems with wetting, endless antibiotics, endless doctor visits. (Now that I think about it, that may be one of the bigger challenges of parenting: getting over your own childhood issues.) But, guess what? You’re not in diapers anymore. You have made so much potty-progress in the last 2 months, it was like someone flipped a switch. Or maybe you decided you’d strung us along long enough.

Kiddo, I can’t recap the last year without a mention of the biggest development – you became a big sister. I’ll admit your dad and I are a touch proud of the way we prepared you for Owen’s arrival. You were involved practically from the moment we found out he was on the way. I wanted you to know that he was as much your baby as Mom and Dad’s, that you would have a very special role as big sister. You take that role very seriously and I’m so proud of you. You are gentle with Owen, you are attentive, and you are interested. I hope when you’re older you remember some of this time – how Owen will only “talk” to you, how you like to feed him in his high chair, how you show him how to roll or crawl, and even wipe up his spit. I know at some point he is going to annoy you. But, I hope the special relationship you two are forming now will run constant, even under the antagonism to come. Because it will come. And soon – he adores you so, as soon as he can walk I know he is going to be chasing after you. Be patient with him, honey.

I look forward to everything this next year will bring – even the inevitable frustrations, on both our parts. The world is just starting to open up before you, and I am so glad your dad and I get to come along for the ride. And, I promise, there will be a ride. On a horse. A black horse.

Love You,
Momma

4 Months

2009-03-27T19:20:00.001-05:00

A month of Owen . . .

She knows her music

2009-03-26T07:06:00.000-05:00

Zoe and I have been spending a lot of time in the car together lately, now that we go pick up Owen from mom every day. Some days she listens to her Disney Read-Along books/CDs. Other times, I've had enough of Lightning McQueen and Cinderella, so we listen to my iPod. She has her favorites, of course - "Mr. Roboto" gets heavy rotation, as does "the belly dance song" (a piece by Balkan Beat Box). But lately, I couldn't be more pleased. She loves Tom Petty. Specifically, the Highway Companion album. Even more specifically, "Flirting with Time". She knows all the words - it is adorable. Just this morning she asked to hear "Time Baby, again!"

Can I just express a teensy bit of pride that my daughter asks to listen to artists like Tom Petty, Sting (she loves "Roxanne"), Johnny Cash and - heck - even Styx. We may have a little Laurie Berkner, David Weinstone and (of course) Backyardigans. But, by and large, Zoe listens to *our* music. We rock.

"It Sucked and Then I Cried"

2009-03-25T18:32:00.002-05:00

Seriously - it's too bad dooce got there first, because that could be the title to my memoir on breastfeeding, where the "it" refers to my baby.

My husband's hilarious, isn't he?

Will be heading out tomorrow to try to score some face time with the one and only Ms. Armstrong. I must say I am one lucky girl because the gal my brother picked to marry not only reads many of the same blogs I do, she has the gumption to go with me to a blogger book signing.

(Oh - hi Stacy! Guess what - you're gonna be in the family? You're gonna be in the blog. I'll be nice, though.)

Like, OMG, I am SO not wearing that!

2009-03-25T11:40:00.000-05:00

While I work diligently on the kiddos' latest newsletters (I get a 3-year-old and a 4-month old in the same week? Yahtzee!), here's a little Zoe anecdote:

I'm getting her dressed this morning and, per usual, she wants to wear a skirt. Or a dress. With tights. So, I grab her Lands End corduroy skirt that Gram gave her, striped tights (who doesn't love an adorable little girl in striped tights?), and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I get the skirt on her body and she glances down at it. She picks up the sides, lifting them ever-so-slightly.

"What's the matter?"

"This skirt is too big."

"Too big? I guess it is a little long. But it's okay."

"I don't like it, Momma. It's too big and baggy."

Okay, so this skirt is a bit fuller than your average skirt. And a bit longer - past her knees. I'll give her that. But, "baggy"? Did she just say it was baggy?

"Do you not want to wear it?"

"No. I want my denim skirt." With that, she starts tugging down the corduroy skirt and heads to her laundry basket to find the denim skirt. And yes, I have a not-quite-3-year-old who requests a "denim" skirt specifically. She finds said skirt, holds it up and says, "See? This one is shorter." She grins.

I laugh, in spite of myself, and help her with the newly selected skirt. Then, as I get it straightened and buttoned, she says, "The other skirt is too big. Nobody will like it."

Yeah. That's my daughter. Already concerned with what *other people* will think of what she's wearing.

Say what?

2009-03-12T11:00:00.000-05:00

http://www.chicagotribune.com/business/chi-biz-sears-tower-name-change-willis-march12,0,7014962.story

This is just terrible. I have a real connection to the Sears Tower - my dad, a Sears employee from the age of 17 until a forced retirement during one of the last economic downturns, was involved in the construction of the tower; I was actually onsite during the raising of some of the famous white antenna towers, I've been on the actual roof, I used to work on the Skydeck . . . it's a major part of my history. And for someone to think they can just rename it? Is nothing "Chicago" sacred? I don't get it - this Willis company needs to step off. I mean, it's still Wrigley Field, even though Tribune Co. owns it (for the moment). Gah! I'll tell you right now - I am going to make sure my kids grow up calling this building by its proper name: Sears Tower.

3 Months

2009-02-24T20:19:00.003-06:00

Dear Owen,

We have been eagerly awaiting this day, little man – the day you would be three months old. It is probably a little silly and overly optimistic on our part, but we’ve been promised that the first 12-14 weeks are often the toughest and that once we cross that “fourth trimester” threshold we would have a new, cheerier baby. Your sister came through for us. And it’s starting to look like you will, too.

Over the past few weeks, you have snapped out of being a grumpy old man. Rather, you are a chatty, squealing happy boy (most of the time). The noises that come out of your throat very often still threaten my precious crystal wine glasses. Truly ear-splitting and almost at a level only dogs can hear. I don’t know how you do it, and we’re trying not to encourage it (it’s hard not to laugh), but so much more bearable because the emotion behind it is joyful or silly. And your attempts at laughter make me giggle – a hearty “HA!” pushed out from your belly with a giant grin.

Boy, do you love to talk. You’re still not much interested in toys – you certainly have the capability to grasp rattles and teething rings, but don’t make an effort to. What you are interested in are people. Faces and voices. You can sit and chatter with me (or Gram) upwards of 10 minutes straight. That’s a long time for a little baby. You are already proficient at mimicking the rhythm of language. It’s adorable, coupled with the faces you pull. Sometimes, whatever you’re saying, you are very serious about. Probably, “I really think it’s getting time to eat. It would be in your best interest to feed me now, mother. I’m not kidding.” But, mostly, you seem to just be making fun of us and our efforts to make you smile.

Recently, I’ve started plopping you in front of the bathroom mirror as we get ready for your nightly bath. You absolutely light up when you see the “other baby” looking back at you. You “laugh” and smile and babble. Until you notice your feet, of course (those are much more interesting and much more useful, in your opinion). But it’s your sister who really seems to have caught your attention of late. You love Zoë. The other night, we were sitting in her room before bedtime. She was galloping around the room, dancing to “Run Around Kid”, and your head was on a swivel. You were tracking her like a lion tracks a gazelle, so interested in what she was doing. Then she stops and turns your way and you just beam. She was giving you kisses the other night, and I just busted up at your reaction. By the second kiss, you started pushing out your lips as she leaned in, then smiling between every kiss.

For all your wonderful moments (of which we’re completely grateful), you still confound us with your insistence on not sleeping during the day. Or, rather, not sleeping by yourself. You’ll still happily fall asleep, and take hour-long naps, in our arms. But, try to put you down and “WAH!” – the screaming starts. We’ve resorted to using all sorts of contrived methods to get you to nap. Like, taking you for car rides. Or putting you in your car seat on top of a running dryer. Someday you may question our wisdom in this, perhaps when you’re denied a driver’s license because you can’t not fall asleep in a moving car. Sorry about that. But, you’re a nicer baby when you’ve slept.

The rapidity with which you are growing (and changing) is astounding. I’m sitting here looking at a picture of you taken just a month ago. You’ve already outgrown the little creeper you’re wearing in the photo and your hair is now poking out all over as it gets longer. You are about the size of an average six-month-old (crazy). We’re definitely proud of our growing boy – you eat so well, you’re growing so well – but your size does pose some problems. You are getting pretty good with head control, you push up really well on your tummy, and have even started rolling over. But, you’re still three months old. Most six-month-olds can sit on their own, and may be starting to crawl. In other words, they’ve got a lot more physical control, independence and can support more of their own weight. So, holding you, fitting you in your sling, your bouncy-chair, even carrying you in your car seat is a regular challenge. And, honestly, I think you agree because you seem awfully frustrated at times to be so limited in what you can do (I swear, the other night, you tried to push yourself into a crawling position – whoah there, Chief).

Winter is still holding on with a death grip, but we’ve had a few warmer days when I could get you outside. We took a walk in the stroller, Zoë pedaling along on her tricycle, and you thrust your arms up in the air feeling the breeze. Your better mood, your interest in everything makes me so anxious for spring and summer when we can get out and play. We are going to have a blast, I promise you.

Love Always,
Momma

Milestone Central

2009-02-07T10:20:00.003-06:00

Well, I made it through a full week back to work. At one point, I had some massive fear that I may never function normally again. A totally irrational fear, of course, but I had some sleep deprivation to contend with, okay? The one night when I was up for the day at approximately 2:30 am . . . that was fun. Caffeine is totally my friend these days.

See, it's all been about getting Owen some sort of routine. I'm not going to say schedule, because it's certainly not like we're imposing this structure on his sleeping or eating. But, clearly, there are certain things that need to happen at certain times (like getting him to and from mom's house). And napping is something he needs, but doesn't seem to want, to do. Therein lies the challenge. My poor mother, listening to him scream and carry on when he's obviously tired. He just needs to learn 1) to sleep on his own and 2) to self-soothe.

Wednesday, when he finally took an hour and a half nap in his crib, we were jubilant. Then he slept through the night Thursday night. And not nursing-baby-sleep-through-the-night, where you're just overjoyed the kid went more than 3 hours between feedings. We're talking 8 pm until 5:45 am. I actually got to nurse him before I left for work and, apparently, he was back asleep by 7 am . . . and slept until 11. He was already in the habit of taking a long morning snooze this week, but he hadn't ever slept that long at night so this was a bit surprising. Then he slept through the night again last night. This time, after eating a about 45 minutes of play, I tried to put him down to nap in his crib. I mean, we're home after all. Scream central. BJ suggests, "Why don't you try putting him in his carseat? That's what he's used to, after all." I figured it would be a no-go, that he probably falls asleep in the carseat because he's riding in the car. Guess what - he quickly calmed down and fell asleep, and he's still asleep now.

So, Owen is finally starting to get some decent sleep (and not cry as much). Hallelujah! But that's not all that's developed in the last week. Oh no . . .

Zoe is actually using the potty. Regularly. Without adult prompting. It started last Friday - nearly her whole class actually used the bathroom after nap, a group notorious for stalling on the potty-training front. Her teacher was triumphant. Zoe was super-excited. Since then, she's used the toilet more than not and the motivators we've been shoving down her throat for the better part of a year? Yeah - she actually cares about them! Like her sticker chart, and wearing big-girl underwear, special treats and getting to watch movies . . . Looks like "Passive Potty-Training" works like a charm!

And now she's watching Goldfinger. Really. She wouldn't let me turn it off.

(yes, I'm the boss - but it's pretty harmless as far as "grown-up" movies go)

2 Months

2009-01-30T11:45:00.001-06:00

Dear Owen,

You, my Old Man Porkchop, are now two months old. I’ve got to be honest with you: you’ve gotten me pretty exasperated over the past week, little man. While I could keep you calm and quiet as long as I held you or nursed you, you had never seemed truly content. You would pull all sorts of crazy faces, grimace and frown and scrunch your eyebrows. Then, almost like some switch got flipped in your head, you started to smile this week. And babble. And gurgle. And do those adorable things that plump, adorable babies like you are supposed to do. It’s delightful!

To top it off, you are absolutely an eating, growing machine. You have literally been growing before our eyes. Since we’ve spent so much time in the doctor’s office (thank goodness, you’re all healthy again), we’ve gotten some real confirmation of how rapidly you’re plumping. You have added 6 pounds to your birth weight in just two months, and 3 inches to your length! Crazy. We were in Target the other day, as usual, and you were having a meltdown in the checkout lane. The kind woman working the register came out and tried her hand at settling you down. She asked how old you were. When I told her you were 8 weeks old, she looked back at you and said, “He’s big, isn’t he?” I’ve had to put away your 0-3 month clothing this week and you’re already fitting – as in just the right amount of room from shoulder to toe – your six-month clothes. If you don’t slow down, you’re going to be recruited by the Chicago Bears to replace Urlacher before your 5^th birthday. And I’m not sure I want a son playing professional football.

While I’m just starting to learn what makes you happy, what you find funny, or what interests you, I seem to be the only person who really ranks in your little world. Your daddy is growing quite weary of the screaming and crying when he tries to spend time with you. He’s often telling anyone who’ll listen that you need to be put in the oven at 350 degrees for 10 minutes. Occasionally, Papa Don or Gram will satisfy you. But mostly, it’s just me. It is very sweet and endearing the way your whole body melts when I pick you up. You can be screaming your head off, hitting those shrill pitches that could shatter glass, but when I get a hold of you, you heave a great sigh and completely relax. I’ll tell you what, though – it is darn exhausting.

I am about to go back to work, kiddo, and I’m actually looking forward to it. We are finally starting to play and have conversations, but your attachment to me is, honestly, pretty draining. I find myself dumbfounded as to why a kid who sleeps so nicely in his crib at night, refuses to nap in it during the day. I’m sure it is because you have gotten so much more socially aware that, when it is daylight, you think you need to have me in your sights at all times. So, we’ve got to work on that. Gram is not going to put up with a little one who doesn’t sleep, okay?

Thanks.

I love you.

Momma