HEELS

My handsome husband at the SF Zoo.

My gorgeous son at the SF Zoo- first time on a swing!

Oh. You want a picture of me? Here ya go:

Damn those last few pregnancy pounds!

So, by the picture evidence, you'd think that all we did in San Francisco was go to the zoo. We did so much more, but guess which Idiot first-time-parents forgot the camera that would have documented their cherished offspring's first time at a parade and such. Yup. These un's.

We did get some on the car ride home, though. Woo Hoo- Go US!

My nephew's first time with a Slurpee. He doesn't look altogether too excited about it, does he?

Cole, however, thuroughly enjoyed his light snack of Car Keys.

Caption Contest!

Submit your captions for the following photo:

Caption anyone? Caption?

No need to make 'em clean, but not TOO gross either, please.

I'll pick my favorite and post it.

Have Fun!!

Yesterday was the 7 month anniversary of Cole's birth. We've been together for 7 months and simultaneously it feels like forever and no time at all.


Cole's very first picture:


Last night, just about the same time he was born (and after a bath where I gave him his first haircut!):


Together, the day he was born:


Last night:


I never thought I could love anyone so much.

(I also never thought I'd post my boobs on the internet again.)

Beth, over at her "pro" blog, wrote a post about how, as moms, we let things go that we never thought we could. I think it's a very interesting thing to consider, the way our priorities shift so dramatically. Before I had a baby, I thought that having kids would be like ME with a baby. Now it's more like NEW me with a BABY (note the significance of the caps). It's not the same me that was before I went into labor and it's CERTAINLY not the same baby experience I expected (in fact, I'm not sure what I expected now that I think about it...).

I had all of these grand plans to read to Cole every night, breastfeed until...whenever, never let him sleep on his tummy, wait for solid food until at least 6 months, give him plenty of tummy time during the day, and sing, sing, sing my heart out to him whenever we were together. And daycare- NEVER daycare!

Reality: most nights (until very recently) we fall asleep before we get a chance to read (and let's not even discuss what that means for bath time). We all know that breastfeeding went out the door at about 6 weeks (and still- waaahhhh!). He sleeps on his tummy sometimes; no biggie. But tummy time? Yeah, right. Not only does he hate being on his tummy when he's awake, but, because we live with his grandparents, the kid is NEVER put down. He is never going to crawl. We started limited solid foods at about 3 months because he just seemed so ready. And singing? Whenever I think about doing it I can never remember any songs (except, absurdly, "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi last night. WTF?!). Oh yeah, daycare? Yup- daycare.

And it's okay. Cole and I love each other so much. I know it when I'm greeted by a flapping, screeching, grinning, wriggling creature every afternoon at daycare. I know when he snuggles up to me, just to know I'm there, at night. I know when he strokes my hand or face or back when he's nursing. I know when he laughs the hardest when I tickle him.

Every kid is different, every mommy is different, every style is different. Cole and I are pretty laid back about it all. Schedule? What schedule? We'll get there eventually.

And I like it that way.

It helps that he's really friggin cute.

We licked that sucker! Now you can see my wish list. I know, I've made your day, haven't I?

Edited to add: Yeah! Recommendations! They ROCK!! Gimme. (Thanks)

Once again I've effed up the whole link thing. Our favorite IT guy, johnnylogic, is working out the kinks (trying to figure out why Amazon is pretending they don't know me. Fuckers sure took my money fine!). So, don't bother trying to click on the Amazon wish list to the left quite yet. I'll let you know. (Also, don't bother trying to search for me on Amazon. I can't even find me. I am invisible. I am non-existent.)

We went to Sacramento this weekend to visit some friends, one of whom just graduated with a BS in Engineering. I expressed my condolences. (Just kidding- Congratulations, Aaron!) We had a lovely weekend, showing the bubba off to people who had never seen his wonderfulness in person before. And then we went to Ikea.

Yea! Ikea!

(Only, boo! Ikea! because I don't have enough money.)

We got two new dressers because we had to leave our dressers in Pittsburgh. I like these even more! And they're all matchy-match. What is it about matching furniture that makes me feel so much like an adult? I think my priorities are mis-aligned. Should work on that...

My one regret about the whole weekend? I had my camera with me THE WHOLE TIME and took NOT ONE picture. Such. A. Dork.

But, we're going to San Francisco this weekend and I won't be making the same mistake. Expect pictures of us cavorting at the Zoo, romping at the Aquarium and doing... whatever it is you're supposed to do... on Haight (maybe we should hold off on that one- Cole is too young and impressionable yet).

Speaking of not enough money (when do I stop?!), I found a great list of kid's books and have compiled the ones that I want for Cole in my Wish List on Amazon. Only, they add up to about $200. I totally value reading, but $200?! Sorry kid, you're going to be illiterate. Good thing we live in the county (and country) we do- no one will ever notice.

And soon, we move!! I'm so excited I could barf.

HA! Funny.

My sister mentioned that my husband and I should have more kids. Now that the subject has been broached, I guess I should tell you all something.

I'm pregnant.

Oh! That was funny!! I think I've just peed myself, I'm laughing so hard. You didn't really buy it, did you? HA!

Yeah- SO not true.

So much not true that it may never be true EVER AGAIN.

We've talked about it abstractly, and we've decided that we have some pretty strict pre-requisites for going down that road. One is that we have to have enough money. At $500 a month per kid, I would be working just to pay for daycare for two kids. It wouldn't even be worth me working (Hey...just a minute...hmmmm....). John would have to be making A LOT more money than he is now. It may happen one day, but I think it'll take a while.

Another reason is that I have to be able to forget what the healing process was like the last time around. When I think of it now, most of the words involved are too vulgar for even me to write down. That's bad. I don't know how long it will take to forget.

Then there's the whole "over-population of the world" thing and the "Doesn't the second kid turn out to be a hellion?" thing and the " I really don't think we could do any better or have an easier baby than we do now" thing. They're hard to get past.

And I finally fit comfortably into my pre-pregnancy pants. It's a good thing.

So don't expect any more little heels-logic babies running around any time real soon. Which makes it even more important to send presents to the one that already exists. Lots and lots of presents. Or send them to his mother, who sacrificed so much to bring him into this world.

So far this morning, I have filed EVERYTHING, answered all of my emails, read my favorite blogs, done research for catering for the company picnic, straightened my desk and the copy room, cleaned the coffee pot and re-stocked the paper towels (in between all of the little jobs these guys CONSTANTLY throw at me). I'm so freakin' efficient. I still suck am terrible, but I am sucking terrible efficiently.

(Yeah- there's another one of those phrases to avoid.)

To set the scene, these were some of the amazing Iris that were blooming last weekend. There were even more, but I needed the space on my memory card for pictures of Cole, obviously.




Here is Cole on the day we were supposed to be in the parade (didn't happen). He was dressed as a baby from the Gold Rush era. They were all dressed like girls then.

Freaks.

(Talk about freaks- that's my mother on the sidelines POSING the freakin' cat to get her in the shot.)(Unless you actually thought that my cat could fly. Which she can. Totally.)






And here's more lounging in the wagon. Cole says "Hi!" and he's saving you a space right next to him.

(Side note on the whole wagon thing: If your child is just barely able to sit up by himself, it's a good idea to put pillows in back for when you are pulling the wagon. I'm not saying it happened to me, but without this advice many parents have started pulling the wagon twice and had their child's precious head thunk against the back twice before they figured out that the whole pillow idea is a good one. Now you know and don't have to make the same mistake.)






For those of you new to the non-stop party here at heels, this is the doggie I've been trying so hard to hold on to. Everyone thinks she's a boy. She's NOT. She's just in touch with her masculine side.

(Side note on the dog thing (side-side note to self: "dog-thing" sounds kinda wrong. Avoid in future.): when I was looking for a dog in the shelters of Pittsburgh, one of the pups I could have taken home was a hermaphrodite. My dog is not.)



And yet more of Cole enjoying the newly re-discovered wagon. What a babe.







Dang, his cheeks look chubby.

Well, right now my computer is not cooperating and I can't post pictures. Perhaps the preciousness is overwhelming. Maybe you all should be thankful that you were spared the diabetes that would undoubtedly come from seeing all the the pictures of my sweet baby boy that I had in store for you. There's always tomorrow!

As I happened to mention earlier, we got our house today. I wish I could say we were buying it, but it's just a rental. Still, it's fantastic. The best part is that we can keep Yoko and she will have a great place to run during the day in the backyard. It may be the best place she's lived in so far! It's my favorite house that we've lived in, and we haven't even lived there yet (maybe that's why it's still my favorite) (Of course, you couldn't get a whole lot worse than the house we had in Humboldt). I really think we'll be happy there. It's a good home for a small family like ours.

And you are ALL invited to come visit! It'll be great! If we run out of room in the house, you can sleep on the porch- it's California, it won't rain! (Oh wait, what am I saying? Even if we were living in a 4 person tent I would have sleeping spaces enough for everyone who reads this page anymore.) It's a great party house and I think it needs to be broken in. Please don't make me invite co-workers. Please?

We're moving in on June 2. We need to figure out how to afford first month's, the deposit, a washer, and a refrigerator before then. It's the washer and the frige that are the sticky parts. Unfortunately, I cannot be a mother without the two. They are plainly just necessities and that's all there is to it. I will not wash out his onesies in the ditch and keep the baby food jars cool in the toilet tank.

Moving in is thrilling though, isn't it? All the possibilities. The fresh start. The good intentions for keeping things clean. A new direction for decorating (No. You CANNOT hang the Led Zepplin poster in the living room. We ARE NOT in college anymore!). I am the kind of person who, when I actually get the time to do it, loves taking everything out of my bag (I can't use the word purse- it's too girly), cleaning everything, and putting it all back properly. Moving in is like that for me. Everything gets it's own place. I can impose so much order. I love it.

I also love playing house. You don't think about having to clean your new place daily when you're moving everything in and setting it up.

And I even like that new house thing of eating pizza while sitting on the floor where the dining room table would go, if you had a dining room table.

I guess I hate moving out of houses (OHMIGAWD- it's amazing how much crap you can accumulate in only 2 years) but I love moving into them. Is that wrong?

AND we get to set up Cole's crib again. I'm taking bets on how easy it will be to try to transition a 6 1/2 month old, dedicated cosleeping baby boy into a crib. Any takers? Anyone want to do it for me? I don't know if I have the strength.

WE GOT OUR HOUSE!! WE CAN KEEP THE DOGGIE!!! WE MOVE IN THE FIRST WEEKEND IN JUNE!!!!

It's a good day.

This just about sums it up...





More later when I get a chance to sort through all of the photos.

Can you believe the change? But still so much the same?

The first is from when he was about six weeks. The second is six months. Doesn't he just get prettier as time goes by (despite the green bean and spaghetti noodle face)?







Fantastic.

Today, I've been informed, is child-care professional appreciation day. If I had known last night, I could have done something about it. But, of course, I didn't find out until lunch time was almost over, so no chance of doing anything about it. I'm thinking that I can drive like a desperate mad woman over to the nursery (the plant one, not the baby one) and pick something out. Any suggestions? What flower says "Thank you for caring for my child, wiping his snot and his stinky butt day after day, cuddling him and having fun with him when I can't, and letting him bring home lots of germs to his family?" Iris? Daisies? Really, I just have no experience here.

Thank you to our Child Care Professionals- we're jealous that you get to spend so much time with our wonderful kids, but we couldn't make everything work without you.

I am not a fan of CSI: Miami, but I have watched it enough to find this very amusing. It seems to me, though, that you court disaster no matter what your beverage of choice happens to be.

I just saw the house! I love the house, I love the house, I love the house!! We need to get this place!

Okay, enough with the exclamation marks, but I am so excited about it. They allow dogs (!) but it doesn't smell like dirty dogs inside- big plus. The back yard is quite large and is part "natural" yard and part deck which would be perfect for Yoko and barbeques (!). It has central heating and air (not on propane- woohoo(!)) AND a woodstove AND a fireplace. It's three bedrooms and two baths. The Master bedroom has a sliding glass door that goes to the back deck. There is a lot of natural light, which I love. It's all on one level, except for the living room which drops down a step. It has beautiful trees all around outside. It has a HUGE garage. The neighborhood is really quiet, too.

The only real drawback? It doesn't have a refrigerator. But, at the price, I can buy a frige and STILL save money in the long run.(!)

I must have this house.

If we get this house I am SO having parties here. I'll cook- just show up and bring what you want to drink. Sound good? See you there. (!)

(Did I mention I've already memorized the address?)

Tell me: does this look like a 6 month old to you? Seriously- where's he getting the steroids?
(BTW- his shirt has Yoda on it and says "Size Matters Not." Yeah- of course it doesn't matter when you're HUGE.) (Thanks to my sis for the shirt though. She had no idea he would be so big.)

















And this. This did not come out of me. This is too big.

Run for your lives! It's a MONSTAH!!



But this one? I will claim. O my goodness- the squishiness!
















I just love this little man. I only wish he would slow down and let me catch up. This is all going too fast and it seems like I'm missing it.

So on Saturday, on top of Cole getting sick, I also managed to develop poison oak. Seriously, I have NO IDEA how I got it. I wasn't doing anything outside in the bushes, my dog didn't get into any, I didn't do anyone else's laundry (or my own, for that matter) or any of the other explanations everyone has come up with. No Clue.

Yet, it's still there. I have it on my right wrist, the back of my left hand, up both arms, up my left shin and ON MY FACE. I feel so lovely...

An obsessive/compulsive like me should never get skin conditions. When I get a sunburn I can't stop peeling the skin (sometimes, when it's a really bad one, the pieces that peel off are HUGE. I LOVE that.). With the poison oak, I can't stop draining the blisters (that sounds even more gross written out than it did in my head). Luckily, they are teensy-tiny and there's really not much there. But all the same... ick. I just can't help myself. I have a scar on my leg from about 19 years ago that is only there because I couldn't keep myself from picking at the scab. It's really stupid. I annoy even myself.

And it doesn't stop with me. I pick at my husband and son, too. It drives John CRAZY but Cole is too little to be able to run away yet! HAHA!!

And really, I think it's pretty gross, too. It's not that I like to do it- I just CAN'T STOP. Honestly, even Prozac never stopped it (plus I hated it and didn't take it for very long).

Now that you know WAY too much about me, tell me: do YOU have habits/obsessions/compulsions that you're less than proud of? Whatever it is, you can tell me. It can't be worse than mine.

We had a mixed bag of a weekend. On Saturday, we went to the May Day celebration at the elementary school from which I graduated and where we would like to send Cole when it comes time. We didn't stay for long, but it was long enough to convince John that it is really a wonderful place WITH a good curriculum (better than when I went there). He was impressed by the levels of conceptual math they were covering.

It was amazing to see how much the place has changed. From 2 school rooms when I started to now 7 buildings! It has grown so much but managed to retain a lot of the original character that made it worth going to school there. The goats are gone though. I won't miss the smell or the flies, but I will miss the chance to see live births- they were fantastic! Those mama goats are fuckin' troupers- I know now that I've been through it! And I didn't have 50 kids staring at me and screaming and talking while I did it.

That afternoon Cole came down with a fever. He had a high fever all through Sunday- up to 103.1 at one point. Poor little bubba. All he wanted to do was be held by me and put his head on my shoulder.

I stayed home yesterday (Monday) with him to make sure his fever was gone. He's fine now. All that's left of the flu/cold/whatever it was is snot. He sneezes and shoots 4 inch long streamers of snot down his face which, if I don't get there fast enough, tickle his chin and he smooshes them all over his face with his fists. Yummy. But funny. I now have an entier wardrobe covered in boogers and y'know what? I don't care! He's still the best little guy ever.

We have a walkthrough of a house scheduled for Thursday. I'm hopeful. We really like the place from the outside and they know we have a dog and are still willing to show us the place. It's also a lot cheaper than many other places we've seen (still highway fuckin' robbery). It could be really good. I don't want to get myself too excited yet, just in case it falls through, but I WANT IT I WANT IT I WANT IT!!!!!

Time to go home. More tomorrow.

Yesterday I was covering for the receptionist and so got the chance to spend an hour beside the candy drawer. While I was able to resist having any myself, I was witness to the fall from dietary grace of many others. One fella even said, with his hand in the chocolate bag, "Ooh. Lunch!"

Which got me thinking.

Actually, when you really think about it, we have the major food groups represented in that drawer. Here's the breakdown:

Protein: Mr. Goodbar, Snickers, peanut M&Ms

Dairy: MILK Chocolate

Grains: Krackle

Veg: Peppermint Patties (Hey, Mint is a plant!)

Fruit- Jolly Ranchers

See? It's not so bad. At least they're eating balanced meals.

Ooh, cool! Spaghetti night!


Boy, this Spaghetti thing is great!


Hmmm...It is rather sticky...


Mama? Can you please get this stuff off me?
It's freaking me out a little...


Ok. Seriously, now. Get this shit OFF OF ME.
I'm totally holding this against you for the rest of my life.
I don't think I'll let you sleep tonight, either.

An excerpt from the News of Record- Sherrif's Reports section of our local newspaper:

"1:12 p.m., Rancho Sonora Estates — A man found an
18-month-old child wandering on Belmont Drive and took the child to a
daycare center where a worker did not know the child was missing."

I'll give you three guesses which daycare provider that was!

And people thought I was over-reacting. See? I told you she's awful!!!! Take that, doubting bitches! HA!

I don't even know who I'm talking to anymore... I just feel so vindicated and I think it's gone to my head a little. Sorry. You guys have been great.

But still...HA! She HAS to get shut down now!!

I suppose you'd have to call my dog a "fertility dog". I got her partially because we (I) panicked thought that we couldn't have children, after 7 months of trying, and needed a furry baby.

And I love her. A lot. Even though I now have my son and we've discovered that my dog has the neurosis of an abused, obsessive compulsive, bi-polar, homeless woman on heroin.

Or maybe I exaggerate. But not by much- I swear.

And life was grand. We had our "complete family"- two loving parents, one beautiful, brilliant son, and the lovely (insane) family dog.

And then we had to find a rental in the town that must hate dogs as if they really are abused, obsessive compulsive, bi-polar, homeless women on heroin.

So now we don't know what to do. We're still looking for a place that will let us pay through the nose to keep our loving pet. My parents are pushing us to give her back to the pound from whence she came. Their "argument" is that that's what happened to her before- it's not like we'd be the first. Huh?! I'm sorry, but we're just about the only people who would adopt a 6 year old dog, and to send my puppers to the pound would be condemning her to death. I'm going to try a little harder to keep her from dying, thanks. I don't give up on living things just because they aren't "easy". I took on the responsibility of this creature's life and I'm going to take my responsibility seriously.

But I don't know what to do if we really can't find a place that will let us keep her. It's keeping me up at night. My parents told us the other night that they think that, because we're trying so hard to hold on to our dog, we're not providing the best life that we could for our son. Again, what?!

I'm so frustrated with my parents and our situation that I've come closer than ever in my life to ripping into them and telling them how I really feel.

But that still doesn't solve my problem about our dog. Best case scenario: we find a great place and they love dogs. Worst case: I'm not sure I want to think about it.

Anybody want the most affectionate, neurotic, (previously) abused, obsessive compulsive, bi-polar, homeless woman on heroin that ever lived? She gives great hugs!