Fix Your Face

The dust is settling. All the crap required to go anywhere overnight has been returned to its proper locations here at home. Buckaroo is napping (I hold my breath). And I'm sort of shivering away the frenzy that I seem to acquire as a mom when we stay away from home.

Woodworker and I had a gift certificate to a great rental house/cabin in the woods near Mt. Baker. I invited my brothers and sisters and their little ones to join us. The setting was glorious, the accommodations delightful, and the company sublime. My most fabulous friend AmyW came from Minneapolis to join us.

She and I fell in friendlove several years ago when she was the manager of the apartment complex where I lived for a time in Seattle. She moved to MPLS right after I moved to the north woods to be the Woodworker's wife. That means we haven't seen each other for over two years, which is super stupid. She'd never met Buckaroo; she'd not seen our new house since we moved from the woods to the Skagit Valley. We missed each other tremendously. So many occasions I've wished I had her here to help me make decisions, to help me pull my head out of my butt, to keep me from disintegrating into frump, to celebrate with, to cry with, to create a hangover with, to appreciate with. I've had so many AmyW moments without her!!!

We totally bawled when we met up, and again when she left. I could not control myself. It was one of those hard cries that you can't stop. When she drove away, down the long driveway and out of the woods on Sunday, I wanted to have a tantrum. Instead, I cried into Woodworker's neck. And he, perfectly, said "Amy would say 'fix your face'." I stopped crying but it was before I wanted to stop. I'm still not done, dang it. But I think that is a crucial element of adulthood. Sometimes one must cease crying prematurely. Sucks.

But the weekend was stuffed full of giggles and dumb jokes, new jokes and old jokes, excellent food, absolutely beautiful weather, and a very much needed change of scenery. Plus, it was quite affordable. Now, I must admit, it was a great weekend in the "new normal". Still had crap sleep because Buckaroo has a broken sleepometer. Still constantly monitoring, moving, cataloging, cleaning, kicking, and begrudging the piles of gear needed for the tiny creature's existence. Still missing out on some things because Buckaroo has to nap. Still worrying about potential disasters in unfamiliar surroundings. Still reeling from it, really. So, it was "the new great." My sisters keep proving to me that it gets easier. Or different, in an easierish way. And I will not forget the monitor next time.

Here is a pic of some of us at Artist's Point, the very end of the road on Mt. Baker Hwy. Its the top of the world, seemingly.

L to R: Leo, little Nik, preggo sassy sis Olga, the Woodworker with Buckaroo, moi with dumb hair, fabulous precious AmyW. Various other siblings and babies not pictured.

August and September are full of mementos - miraculous birthdays, tragic anniversaries, glorious anniversaries, holidays and getaways - memories to feel, memories to make. And it ain't easy. Now I look towards October, my favorite month. The visual drama of autumn. We have little planned, which is good. There is always much to do around here in the "fixer upper" department. Also, ahem, the cable guy is here right now. So, there will be football.

I love you, AmyW!!! Thank you for coming and reminding me what I need to know!!!
xo nellie

I WAS RIGHT.

Aaahhhnnn. All is right with the world. This morning I jumped out of bed, stuffed Buckaroo under my arm, and settled down in front of the laptop. The universe is a just place because I easily found an online version of Joaquin Phoenix and David Letterman's interview from last night. I smiled from ear to ear through the whole interview. Buckaroo was unimpressed as he squirmed on my lap and chewed on my ear. But I felt he should be exposed to this interesting aspect of our culture.

Here he is in all his spiffy, adorable, humble glory. And if you cruise the headlines, ignore the garbage about a lawsuit. They were just joking, obviously. As well, I didn't really feel that Phoenix was apologizing all over the place. Letterman wasn't demanding that in any serious fashion. They simply covered the topic in a fun, Letterman-esque, yuk-yuk, extremely adorable kind of way.

Pretty much I was right about everything and stuff. But I'm lying about jumping out of bed. That doesn't happen around here. Getting up involves a good deal of reluctance on my part. Buckaroo is usually yanking at my face and wanting to play and smiling and drooling. Its a Very Cute Alarm Clock.

And lets get one thing straight. This is my Number One Heart Throb For All Times:
Both of them.
xo

Joaquin Watch

I tell you, I belong to the group of extremely clever people who sort of knew all along that Joaquin Phoenix and Casey Affleck were pulling a stunt.

No way would Phoenix downward spiral like that for reals. And then I watched the preview for "I'm Still Here" and my suspicions were confirmed. Dude, this is a mockumentary. I don't know how smart people like Kenneth Turan (LA Times, NPR) could get all tied up in knots about it. I always like Turan's reviews. But this time I think he wrote exactly what Phoenix and Affleck hoped he would. (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129705971) He's disgusted with the ickiness of it all - celebrity, exposure, reality entertainment, the shame of Phoenix's spited career...

I imagine Phoenix and Affleck spent some time after the preview and reviews came out sitting at home saying "Oh my god, I can't believe how well this worked." And then I think they started to say. "Um, I think this worked too well. I never thought it would work this well." And then Affleck had to get grown up and serious with the NY Times and EXPLAIN it to people. (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/17/movies/17affleck.html) And various and sundry interviews over the last couple of days reiterating the whole scheme. Everyone is still so uneasy.

Well, I'm EXCITED. Because tonight Phoenix returns to Letterman. What will happen?! We all know what happened last time, ending with Letterman's brilliant line "Joaquin, I'm sorry you couldn't be here tonight."Ouch. Letterman cannot be outwitted on the spot. But did he know it was an act? Some say yes, some say no. I imagine tonight Phoenix is going to look gorgeous and use complete sentences and do his mama proud. I hope.

Its too delicious. I absolutely love love love Joaquin Phoenix. He has been on my top 3 list for years and years. Have you seen Inventing the Abbotts? Swoon and hug and kiss Joaquin Phoenix. No WAY would he or anyone around him let him fall apart. I mean, I don't know the guy, but I think he is a bit too ahead of the game for that.

I haven't seen the film, obviously. And I don't know if I could sit through the whole thing. Might be too much to stomach. I might get deeply embarrassed for him and it would make my tummy hurt the whole time. Or, maybe I'd laugh my butt off and be grateful for the mirth. We'll all have the discussion about the importance of mockumentaries; about the grittiness - were the drugs real? was the poop real?; about mocking the hand that feeds you. I think the discussion will continue for a while. Or, Hollywood powerhouses will fervently ignore it so that they don't have to get into the discussion. I mean, we're not going to stop benefiting from the Entertainment Industrial Complex.

On a darker note, it has been reported that Affleck has settled a sexual harassment lawsuit out of court with two women who worked on the film. Yuck. What the heck? I toss my hands in the air. Nobody ever knows the full story.

So, lets close with acknowledging the other two in my Top 3. In order of importance:
Number One: Daniel Day-Lewis. I'm not kidding. He's been in the #1 spot for well over 15 years. Maybe I should have included a more comely picture, but I loved Gangs of New York.

Tied for the Silver with Mr. Phoenix: ERIC BANA!!! Of course! But you already knew that.

Vows

On this day two years ago not far at all from where I sit this very minute, Woodworker and I promised to be together in marriage for ever and ever and ever and stuff. According to the interwebs, the 2nd anniversary is the "cotton" anniversary. Also according to the interwebs, in the Commonwealth, a couple can receive a congratulatory letter from the Monarch for 60th, 65th, and 70th anniversaries and all anniversaries after that! You must apply to Buckingham Palace, but still. Anyway, we're not of the Commonwealth and we've got a long way to go, but we are very self-congratulatory nonetheless.

Last night we left Buckaroo with Woodworker's parents and we walked down the street a whole block and ate dinner at the local tavern all by ourselves. This was a first for all of us. And more than anything, it was an exercise rather than a respite. But now I can say that I left my baby with a sitter and everything went pretty well. It was reported that he did a good deal of crying after he realized our absence, but he didn't cry the WHOLE time. Good! Thank you so much Grandma and Grandpa!

Husband and I did have a few great minutes of being in love and stuff at the tavern. I devoured a lovely steak salad. He had the captain's plate. We put the iphone on the table in clear view. I ate fast. He is a more reasonable person that me and actually chewed his food.

So, my problem is this. I thought tomorrow was the 20th. I thought I had another day. Worse yet, the 20th is also my beloved mother's birthday and I just talked to her at length on the phone about the massively poopy mess that occurred this morn, but did not mention her birthday. I'm such a dumbass. And so is my husband! He's the one that convinced me that tomorrow is our actual anniversary. Maybe he did that on purpose so he'd have time to get something today. Well, whatever. Buckaroo and I will have to go into town and buy something made of cotton. Sheesh.

Also, by the way, today is a very rainy day. And it was a very rainy day two years ago as well. But that's another story. Ech. Rain is good luck, right? It was a beautiful wedding. Seriously, it was a beautiful wedding. Rain is beautiful and stuff.

Ciao.

Dreamish

I had strange dreams last night. I know that nobody ever wants to read about someone else's dreams; and in my opinion, I think they are a cheap literary device. Regardless. I have to say that the last two nights I have had dreams about losing my wedding ring. I told Husband but he told me not to worry and made semi-lewd gestures that I think were supposed to be romantic.

And someone, somewhere must have mentioned Yom Kippur in my vicinity yesterday because last night I dreamt that I was trying to prove that I knew the nature of the holiday, as well as why the Yom Kippur War was called the Yom Kippur War. But I didn't really know and I was just pulling words out of my butt, like Sinai and Moshe Dayan and I don't know. I wish I could remember who it was I was talking to; it was someone important. Anyway, today I'm flipping through the paper and shucks, its Yom Kippur! Weird.

All for now.

Addendum

I must clarify something from my earlier post. I mentioned that we don't have cable/broadcast television. And I like that we don't. I want to be the people who don't have t.v. I mostly am that person. I really used to be that person. But then I got married and moved to The Middle Of Nowhere and now live with a man who gets clinically depressed if he can't watch football. I might not like that scenario; I might consider myself too erudite for this arrangement; but I chose it anyway. And it has its pluses.

Besides, I discovered David Bromstad. And t.v. started to feel right. And I learned to expand my life experience. And that's ok.

Then, I had a baby and sort of lost my marbles for a while (I think I'm getting them back.) and having David Bromstad come to me every day on the t.v. via Color Splash, and offer a sunny, adorable, muscular, tasteful marker to each day helped me to become the mom I am. (hah)

But then we moved (best thing ever, after Buckaroo) and we haven't had cable since. Just the netflix. Fine, fine. HOWEVER. Football season has begun and guess who can't handle it? So, my Woodworker has scheduled the cable guy and we will be getting television again. I like to carry on like this is ridiculous and only-neanderthals-watch-television. But I'm secretly very excited. Because we really do have a nice television. Project Runway looks so nice on it. So much better than my crappy, ancient laptop.

Let me also point out that my husband, the Woodworker, the self-employed workaholic who can't tear himself away from his workaday reality to do anything extracurricular (except sushi) is going to be here for the cable guy to follow him around and make sure he does it right. One must have one's priorities.

Furthermore, the Woodworker just came in from working on the new shop to make himself enchiladas from scratch for lunch.

Finally, Buckaroo is napping so I am going to go pluck my eyebrows uninterrupted.

Bated Breath

We don't have television channels. We have the big screen and all, but just the netflix. So. When Project Runway airs I have to watch it the next day on the computer. So. This morning Buckaroo and I watched Project Runway. Ohmigod its always so exciting I can hardly stand it. Such sweet torture when the episode ends. And when you don't have commercials it goes by oh-so-quickly. This season has been a delight because I think the judges are more unpredictable. Project Runway is a very important part of my happiness. Now I have to wait a whole week to meet that element of happiness again.

The wait is probably a good thing because it allows for enough time for me to pull my head out of my ass about wanting to be a fashion icon. This is not going to happen. I'm in such a sloppy mom place right now. The height of fashion consciousness for me is whether or not I remember to put pants on. So its just best that I have the joy of the runway every so often.

My son is a bit more fashion-forward. For instance, this morning he was sporting a sleepie outfit that made him look like he was wearing leg warmers. Because he's secure with his sexuality. (Is that ok to say?) And because he wants me to show AmyF that he's a dancer and thus she should move here.

Here he's rockin them in his exersaucer.

Here he's warming up in his jumpyjumperthing.

Here he's on point. Almost.

So, anyway, I'm sad to see the Michael D. guy go from Project Runway. He was sweet and funny and clearly in love with Christopher. I'm happy that Mondo won because I really admire him. He's so VERY comfortable with himself and he's always so calmmmmmmmm. And funny. Sharp funny.

xo

Change of Scenery

This last weekend we went to Winthrop for the Woodworker's cousin's wedding. It was a big blast of an affair at the beautiful Wolfridge Resort. And it was a pretty successful family getaway, as far as parenting goes. Well, except for the Major Poop Incident on Sunday morning. Absolutely everywhere, I tell you. But had I dealt with it more swiftly from the outset, it might have been a Minor Poop Incident. Always learning.

We traveled there on Saturday, which followed a horrible night of poor sleep, so I was on autopilot. In those wee hours the night before, as I was bouncing Buckaroo, I seriously thought that I would not be able to get him and myself in the car, and the Woodworker would have to go by himself. It is truly amazing the bleakness of thought in those wee hours. But by morning I seemed to be moving in a forward motion. Buckaroo showed impressive car skills and took a 2 hour nap. Bless his little chubby heart.

I'm so grateful for the relative ease of our travel, both ways. And the condo we rented with our teammates was awesome, comfortable, affordable, convenient. Winthrop is old-timey and Western all over itself, which is fun. Eastern Washington is so vastly different from Western Washington. The change in climate, flora, fauna happens so fast as you cross over the mountains. I grew up in Eastern Washington, so the scrub grass and tumbleweeds hold a certain nostalgia for me. I enjoy it now because I eventually come back home to the shores of the Puget Sound.

My favorite things about the weekend were:
1. The Woodworker took Buckaroo for a very long walk on Sunday morning and I was able to have a sort of nap in total silence. That is the second time since Buckaroo was born that I have had a silent reprieve with him out the house (instead of me out of the house), and this was much nicer than that first attempt. I want more!
2. The weather co-operated for the wedding. A deep blue sky and blessing sun for the vows. We all stood with the bride and groom with the most amazing backdrop. The officiant talked about the cathedral of the Cascades, and it felt so true.
3. I reunited with a couple of buddies from undergrad days that I had NO IDEA would be at this thing. Such a thrill!!! I never imagined I'd see Tyler again, particularly. Really wonderful to hear about the twists and turns of someone's path since you last saw them. He seemed really great - all growed up and stuff - which warmed my heart.
4. There were a lot of families with wee ones there. It helped me to see other people surviving the exhaustion and complexity of baby-rearing. I try not to be too jealous of families who can enjoy outings with their tiny ones. We just couldn't do anything like that when Buckaroo was a newborn because he was so dang colicky, and he cried his eyes out every time we went anywhere in the car. But anyway, it was a mind-broadening experience to be with our parenting peers in the celebratory situation. Always interesting to watch how others do it, you know?
5. At one point during the wedding evening I was looking for the Woodworker and Buckaroo, and I found them dancing. Ahhnnnn. Eventually Buckaroo fell asleep on Dadda's shoulder. Eventually eventually I talked Dadda into letting me take them home. Eventually eventually eventually I got us all in bed.

Back at home in gorgeous Skagit County. Yesterday and today are misty mornings. Buckaroo and I took a walk yesterday (between lame naps) and I felt like we were subjects of a huge, majestic painting. No wonder there are so many artists around.

Today I seem to be coming down with something. A cough, and my eyeballs hurt. And all our recent traveling has rather undone any sleep training we'd accomplished. So, I'm feeling so scrambled. What to do. It was delicious having the babe in bed with us while we vacationed. So, of course, now he has no intention of sleeping well back at home.

I'm very happy my mom is coming today for a visit. She's the best.

Happy Wednesday.

Elusive

I'm trying to master Picasa and its late (for me) and I can't figure it out. And now the huge old great dane that lives next door is barking again, which always puts me on edge because what if she wakes up the baby. She's still barking. Its a huge monster bark, terrifying. Stupid dog.

I wanted to blog about some socks, but that can certainly wait. Its been a day. Another day of trying, and stumbling, at wrangling a couple of respectable naps out of my very mercurial child. Please tell me that someday I won't spend 92% of my waking moments worrying, contemplating, studying, willing(not well), wishing, praying, praying again, sighing, praying some more, anticipating fretfully the naps that my silly kiddo undertakes very erratically. That someday I'll have a broader feeling about my own daily life. I mean, he's only 6 months old, we're still working on the basics here. And he was so colicky at first; and that can

oh gosh. He's awake. More later.

raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens...

Sometimes, when I just need to remember that the world is not necessarily a bad place, and daily life is not actually guaranteed to offer stumbles and tribulations, I do this:

1. I go to the interwebs and type www.imdb.com

2. I type the words "Eric Bana"

3. I spend a few minutes admiring one of my favorite things.

4. Yuuusssss, I KNOW that's him in the movie Chopper.

5. YES I know he's married. So am I.

I wonder what its like to BE Eric Bana. Good lord have mercy.

When the Woodworker sees this, he's going to roll his eyes so hard they will be stuck in the up position.

Fashionable Coincidence!

You know, I sorta followed Gisele Bunchin, Bunchshin, whatever, through her pregnancy because she had her baby a couple of months before I had Buckaroo. I've managed to come across pics of her whenever I'm feeling particularly unsightly. It's a real pick-me up. And whadya know, I'm spending valuable time on People.com this morning and here she is!! In all her gloriously bronzed, tousled, toned, relaxed, expensive short-shortiness. What's funny is that, seriously, I look exactly like that. Except that I wear flipflops with that shirt. Her bootflops look sort of uncomfortable. And my hair is probably a little sexier. Which is what happens when you don't shower. Like, ever.

p.s. my first time inserting hyperlink. Exhilarating!

Functions

Please observe the boy and his cute outfit here in this photo taken several weeks ago.
Because you will never see this cute onesie again. Because yesterday he was wearing it and yesterday I experienced the as-yet most disgusting single episode of this parenting saga. That is all I will say.

I, Anonymous

I am enjoying the blogging thing so far. I've figured out how to post images from the web; neato. I promise they won't all be political. Mostly I'm not political. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Actually, I take that back - I am political but mostly I don't go on and on about it. Whatever "political" means, anyway. Really, actually, I'm too cool to be political. But that's not the kind of thing that one points out to people. Consistently, I'm a dork. Just ask Husband. No, don't ask him.

So, about blogging. I can't really decide how anonymous to be. I'm feeling very inconsistent about it. I think I'm going to let it evolve. I'll figure it out as I go.

But, anyway, here's me:
This is the most recent shot of myself that I have. The wee peanut is my new niece Juliana Margaret, via my beautiful sister Liz. She's probably 3 weeks old there? That was a couple of weeks ago. Juliana is totally silly and perfect. It has been reported that she smiles slyly at her mother when she wants things. She moves very slowly, which is completely the opposite of her older sister and of her cousin Buckaroo. I yearn for her. They only live about an hour away. But it feels like a parsec.

In this image I am wearing a beautiful amber necklace. Ask me sometime how my husband bought this for me to hide the fact that he'd also bought a painting that he said he wasn't going to buy. Its an adorable painting, a Ree Brown, and I don't regret that he bought it. Jewelry always works.

-nellie

Feeling Lucky

My husband is a wonderful man and here is why:
These are my new shelves for my shoes!!! That is all it takes. I am happy. But just so you know he also did a spanking great job on the rest of our closet. Do keep in mind, we just moved into our house after a rigorous and vigorous renovation by my husband and his business partner. The entire second floor, where the beds and bath are, was gutted and re-done. Now, for the first time, we share a closet and it is MAGNIFICENT. Here's another picture:

He did all those shelves and rods and everything. Isn't that amazing? Don't look at my clothes. I have dorky clothes. (I need Stacy and Clinton.) But I love my clothes now that they hang in the completed closet.

Its not easy moving into a fixer-upper. The to-do list is endless. I can't talk about it. But slowly the place comes together. How many identities, how many permutations does a 105-year-old-house go through? Lots. That's a lot of years. A lot of spiders.

While we're in the bedroom, let me also boast of our beautiful bed that my husband also made. Here:
Its made from walnut. English walnut? Can't recall precisely. Too lazy to ask. It's a sturdy, manly, artistic bed indeed. And perhaps you can't see exactly, but the side tables are "floating" planks of the same wood. Very dramatic. He just finished with the side tables today. Another thing off the list. Feels very "done" in there now. Amazing how satisfying it is to pull things together.

I made the heart-shaped pillow on the bed. It was a Valentine's present to Husband during our courting days. I stitched "I love bacon" on it. He loves bacon.

Here's another bit of our handiwork:
Oh dear. Look at his little toes all flexed. Goodness. Too much.

If you were Chelsea Clinton...

Here is a scene from a couple of days ago: Secretary Clinton facilitating the handshake between Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Palestinian National Authority President Mahmoud Abbas. Everyone is smiling. Pretty flowers on the table. Etc. Etc. Who knows where things will stand between them in two weeks time, but here we are.

Jump back how many years - 17 years? - to another White House image, another Clinton facilitating a handshake.

Here we have President Clinton with Israeli Prime Minister Yitzak Rabin and Palestinian Liberation Organization President Yasser Arafat. Its looking to me like the Palestinians smile just a wee bit bigger than the Israelis. But that's neither here nor there. Also, lets remember that Rabin and Arafat (and Shimon Peres) won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1994 for the Oslo Peace Accords that were ratified by the above handshake. Pretty big deal. The whole deal, however, didn't really stick so well. But don't ask me. You'd need to start a think tank to suss out all the details.

I was always a little embarrassed by President Clinton's demeanor during this whole handshake ceremony. He'd only been in office a little while. The actual negotiations didn't really happen in his back yard. And yet he just looked so dang smug, so showy-offy, in all the photos. But that's not important. Perhaps the fact that Rabin was assassinated in 1995 by a right-wing nutbag who didn't agree with Israel's involvement in the Accords is more important.

Anyway! My point is: what if you were Chelsea Clinton? What if these were your parents? What will history make of them? Its just so, I don't know, interesting to me that we see them both do this stuff, this pinnacle of power stuff. I think its a big deal, but I'm not sure exactly why. I have to think about it for a bit longer. I'm no pundit. I just get a kick out of the two photos.

That's enough politics anyway. Whew! Lets talk about religion instead. For instance, who is the more heroic god in our pantheon - Han or Luke? I'm a dork.

I'm going to go watch Husband make cinnamon rolls. Its a beautiful day here. Buckaroo is currently napping. Though I probably jinxed it by saying that.

ciao.

p.s. I'm pretty sure I spelled everyone's names correctly. I'm pretty certain on the dates. I'm too lazy to fact-check.

The City and Children's Hospital

Yesterday we took Buckaroo to an appointment at Children's Hospital in Seattle. I think it was yesterday. Time does strange things when you're tired and anxious and then tired and relieved. Buckaroo has a condition called hydronephrosis in his kidneys. It sounds scary to me, but its currently not a really big deal. We were just getting an ultrasound and check-up. Things look good, according to the good doctor.

Seattle Children's Hospital is an amazing place. It is in a nice neighborhood not far from UW. Coincidentally, it is right down the road from where I used to work at the regional branch of the National Archives. When we first had to go there with Buckaroo, I knew exactly how to get there because I drove past it for years. Every day for years I watched people get on and off the bus to go there - nurses, doctors, patients, visitors. So VERY strange one day to be driving in the driveway with my own tiny baby for a very important appointment. Ugh. Anyway. That was way back a million years ago when he was a newborn. A whole other blog post, really.

But, again, its an amazing place. Its setting is very lush, very landscaped. Back when the construction was proposed the neighborhood required that the hospital maintain a lot of leafy landscaping to sort of make it blend in to the rest of the neighborhood. Neighbors didn't want to stare at a big, busy building. And it works. The landscaping makes for a peaceful setting. And I'm grateful for any bit of peace of mind I can get when we're there.

Everyone is very nice. Everyone is very considerate. They're not sing-songy or pitying; they're calm but they aren't steeled and distant like you sometimes find at other hospitals. There are murals and fishtanks and gorgeous light fixtures everywhere. The way they do the whole administrative, computery, please-sign-here junk is smooth, not overwhelming. Thank heavens.

While there, I find myself taking in my surroundings and seeing all the other folks and kids while trying not to absorb too much about them. I don't want to know why they are there. I've plastered a trying-to-stay-calm smile on my face. I jiggle my knee. I check the clock. I kiss Buckaroo over and over. He's focused on drooling. Husband walks him around. I dig in my purse for nothing.

What one cannot help but notice is that all kinds of folks are there. Mother Nature's challenges spare no one. Families of all creeds, colors, styles, shapes, sizes, dispositions, and constitutions. I feel like a weenie because I've nearly come undone with the journey we've been on, but there are those around me who are clearly facing vastly different and more difficult challenges. Children are resilient, miraculous. But they also show their emotions. You know when they're weary, when they're skeptical, when they're in pain. The parents' faces speak of love and determination, fear and uncertainty, patience and impatience. All I can do is pray for them. Wish them peace. Offer a smile. Try not to look too scared.

Our doctors have been amazing. The first one we saw, I was delighted to find, was a residency colleague of my college buddies. Both doctors we've seen have elaborated with more details, more medical-speak when we wanted it. I like that. I leave with the understanding that they truly are there for us when we need them. Prayers of gratitude, indeed.

I just heard today that Children's provides about $100 million in uncompensated care each year. Holy cow. What a phenomenon.

We also did all sorts of fun stuff when we were in town that I'd love to mention, but I must wrap this up. Here's a pic of Buckaroo and his dad on the porch last night. He seemed rather unphased by the happenings. Although today he is pretty pooped.
Look at those chubby cheeks. Look at that handsome dadda. Ahn.

Coffee, Cat, Goat

So far, blogging is fun. Yay! Buckaroo is sitting on my lap. Wiggling. Its like trying to restrain a baby goat, really. And I'm drinking my coffee in my fave mug from AmyW. And the cat Critter is lurking, always, trying to sit on my keyboard. Here's a pic of Buckaroo and Critter, a couple of months ago in our previous house:

Look at that little butthead sticking his claws in the leather couch. The cat I mean, not the baby.

An Old House Possibly Full of Spiders

Let me just say, in regards to the previous post about the spider, that I'd been concerned about such a situation occurring. What does one do when one cannot scream because one is holding a sleeping baby? In my experience, the spider-scream response is not voluntary for me. I do not chose to scream, I simply scream.

And it had really been on my mind lately because its spider season and because of what the cable guy told me. He came to hook up our internet cable, which involved repairing the wires and the hole in the house and whatever. He was a nice fella who talked about his 10 month old and who wiped his shoes when he walked in. He finished and was explaining his work, saying that he had to increase the size of the hole from the outside but he filled it with silicon caulk because otherwise it would just be a SPIDER FREEWAY. Then he proceeded to tell me about the fist-sized spider he saw peeking out from our chimney bricks and that we'd better take care of it because it looked deadly. So basically I live in an on-ramp for deadly spider traffic.

This house was built in 1905. There are a lot of holes. A lot of spider freeways. There's not enough caulk in the world... and so I must persevere. I must face the fact that there will be more face-offs with spiders. I must at least pretend to be brave. Brave mommy.

The Spider and the Nursing Mother

Last night there was a spider. It was the 3am feeding so I was sitting with Buckaroo in his room. I saw the spider across the room scampering with obviously evil intentions along the dresser. But there was enough junk on the floor between us that I didn't worry. Then! All of a sudden he was there, in the middle of the room. In the middle of the room on my son's quilt, darting among his toys. So at this point I hate him. And I couldn't move because I was feeding Buckaroo. But I think it wanted to kill us. But I couldn't move. Because the most important thing about the 3am feeding is not that the baby receive nutrition - n0 - it is that he goes back to sleep so I can go back to sleep. So I can't scream the scream that is in my mouth. I cannot jump and run and get Husband. And Husband is ignoring my mental telepathy.

So we remained in this stand-off, the spider and the nursing mommy. I spastically kicked my leg towards him so he'd know I was there, so he would be more scared of me than I of him. Hmfphf. I was sweating. It was exhausting. Finally, with one eye on the enemy, I put Buckaroo back down. And then I threw some poopy diapers on the spider. Then I woke Husband. Then Husband silently (ish) chased the spider around, and it was a prolonged battle for the spider did not want to die. But now his remains are in the poopy-diaper garbage. Rest in peace.

I did get back to sleep but it took a while because I had the itchies and was trying not to imagine spiders crawling up the crib.