re: update

by request, even!!

is on again, off again when it comes to liking the medicine. last night, she lapped it up like kitchen drinks milk. this morning, I had to squeeze it in quick-like and most of it ended up on her bib. (and yes, there is flavored medicine! our rite aid has a list of like 20 flavors they can add to medicine to make it taste better.) other than that, she is adorable as usual. her new thing is rocking back and forth. it looks like dancing when she's standing up (with help) or sort of mentally ill when she's sitting in her high chair. and if she knows someone is holding her, she'll fling herself backwards and then come back up. lots of fun when we're on the couch snuggling, not as much fun when I'm trying to pick her nose.

enjoyed take your kid to work day. I, however, did not. that's a whole nother story. he was entertained by the activities and liked lunch. I, however, was not. he liked "shadowing" me for all of an hour. I, however, did too. he accompanied me into an impromptu meeting with my boss and now asks me for updates on the situation that was discussed. funny. he did lose his baseball game again last night - and lost big time. he was in for pitcher for a few innings. my boy is a good baseball player - always makes allstars, very smart, fast - but he is NOT a pitcher. and I hate when he gets put in as one. he's very hard on himself already and doesn't need that stress on top of it.

is enjoying being back at home. or was - because he's back at work now. he gets another half day tomorrow (only 8 hours instead of 12!) and we are going to see the dali exhibit at the museum of art, which, I heard, features alot of...um...sausage. as in not suitable for 12 year old boys. but it's art! so we'll see if trent comes with.

is being plagued by allergies. patrice is me, by the way, and I don't feel like doing all this in the third person. yesterday, with my eyes tearing, I looked like I had been crying all day. after a night of rubbing my eyes into oblivion, today I look like I'm both stoned and hung over. great for work! I took claritin (even though I have an rx for zyrtek) out of desperation yesterday. I don't want to keep taking it because it dries up everything - including milk. and I'm having enough trouble producing anyways. but I couldn't stand it anymore...and then I took a claritin and guess what? NOTHING CHANGED. stupid claritin.

is having some issues. it seems that Blog has had some insecurity in regards to comparing itself to other blogs and feeling a bit over-competitive. so Blog is losing its counter, I think.

that is all, I think.


sean will be posting soon:
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And here are the kids:

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crunchy doesn't always mean RIGHT

well...the breastmilk in the ears didn't work. surprised? yeah, me too. allow me to slip into something a little more 1990 and say...NOT.

this morning, our little boba fett woke up with a fever. though she looked completely happy, was smiling and "singing" to us, her forehead was hotter than sean in a thong. (trust me on this. he reads and writes in this blog too.) I took her butt temperature and she was not as calm as she was when the nurse did it at the doctor's office, so once it reached 102.7, I just pulled it out even though it didn't beep. a fever's a fever and I didn't feel like causing her more discomfort.

so we called the doctor, and I...well...I went to work. I left my poor sick baby and went to work. sean took her to the doctor and she again has an ear infection. now, sean always watches bella on tuesdays, wednesdays, and thursdays, because these are his "weekend", so it's not like I had him stay home from work and watch her. but shouldn't I have stayed home? I felt horrible about it.

so you'll remember from last time that bella HATES medicine. (or food, or anything that is not milk or paper.) so this time I had sean ask the pharmacist about adding flavoring to the medicine, as if it might help. but...and this is so great...it totally DID help! sean thoughtfully got apple flavor, since applesauce is the only food she's ever not expressed total hatred toward, and even though apple flavor and baby applesauce cannot possibly taste anywhere near the same, she took it without much fuss. so that's good. whether she'll continue to do this, I do not know. we have 10 days (19 more doses) to find out. and bella is nothing if not completely unpredictable.

so today I've been thinking about how horrible I am to have left my baby and come to work, and also how great it is to be able to be horrible and leave my baby and come to work. for as much as sean's schedule is completely annoying and very difficult to deal with, it certainly comes in handy for babies. knowing bella is home with her loving daddy makes it possible for me to be horrible and come to work, and that's pretty great.

next up - schlep your kid to work day. that's tomorrow. trent is going to be sitting through hours of presheduled lecture before he gets to "shadow" me at 3pm. right now, he's pleased as punch to just be getting out of school. (which reminds me....trent had DETENTION today. detention!!!! why? because he's been "benched" [reprimanded] 4 times for, and get this, not being bad, not talking back, not even playing around at school - but for not getting tests signed. stupidest. reason. ever. and also? so glad they didn't have this when I was in elementary school or I would have been in detention every week.)

anyway, we'll see if he's still psyched after listening to guest speaker after guest speaker talk about the industry my company is in. (no, I won't say what, you want me to get dooced??)

stay tuned.


my boyfriend's back

sean's back, his trip was "awesome", and bella remembered who he was. I'm sure that he'll tell you all about it when he goes to work this weekend.

yesterday was trent's first baseball game of the season - which also meant that I wasn't able to take a nap. I got home, we quickly ate some "food" (consisting of hot pockets and steamed broccoli. because if you have steamed broccoli with something, it makes it a meal.) and then we had to hightail it to the field. but because it was like 20 degrees (maybe like 55 or something) we had to bundle up. me, I had on long johns and sweats, 2 sweatshirts over my long sleeved t shirt, and thick socks under my lands end boots. and the scarf I stole from someone who left it behind at nicole and mark's house after their wedding. (is it stealing if they left it behind?) sean just put on jeans and a coat, because he's rugged. and then there was bella. thick sock-like tights, long sleeved onesie (that's for you, theresa!), jlo jogging suit, socks, red shoes, sweater, winter hat, mittens, and a big fleece blanket. sean commented that she looked like maggie simpson when she wears her star suit.

unfortunately, trent's team lost. and unfortunately, when brett (trent's dad and coach) picked his kids in the draft, he had no idea who any of them were. and of course no one helped him. consequently, if there are any children under the average height for 11 and 12 year olds, we have them on our team. I looked over at the green team (we are purple) and some of those kids looked bigger than trent if he were sitting on my shoulders.

so trent's team lost - and lost big time. I think it's going to be a long season. and one in which I am probably going to lose it a few times. being at your child's sporting event is both harrowing and exhilirating. you get to watch them do some great things and know that you contributed to their genetic makeup. that's exhilirating. especially if they do lots of great things. and then you get to watch them do bad things and you want to go out and hug them and you can't. that's harrowing. and then there's the completely crappy stuff about watching your kid's games - other parents. oh how I hate other parents.

they come in a few varieties. some overlap into more than one category. but there are very few of them that I ever meet that I would ever want to have more than a casual acquaintence-ship (is that a word?) with. most, I'd like to throttle.

there's the know-it-all name-droppers who were probably really effing annoying when they were in high school. they know every kid on every team and feel free to talk about them at length to anyone with ears. (how I wish I had no ears sometimes.) this is sometimes good, as in "trent's really fast!", and sometimes bad, as in "his parents are DIVORCED." the thing is, they engage you in stupid conversation that prevents you from watching the game, while somehow they themselves are watching the game. they say things like "did you see the great catch your son just had??" which sucks because a) you were trying to be polite and listen to their inane chatter and you realize they don't give a shit, and b) you just missed a good play that you know your child will be asking you if you saw. these people also claim to know every single rule of baseball, which is total bullshit, and they are almost always women.

there's the clique-ish people who only talk to certain people. they hold seats for these people (fuck you, I brought my own chair, take all the damn bleachers you want) and seem like they are made of wood until the chosen few come along, then they are laughing with abandon. I don't really care about these people - I'm mostly annoyed by them.

there are the stand-alone fathers who sort of mill around, making sure to stand directly in your way when you're sitting in your chair craning to see the batter at home plate. usually this is when your own child is up to bat.

there are the arguers who have nothing positive to say about anything. it could be clear blue skies and 70 degrees and they will find something weather-related to complain about even before the game starts. like there's a breeze. or no breeze. and then it gets worse as soon as the game starts.

there are the trashy people who bring all their 50 million grubby, dirty kids, let them run around throwing dirt at each other and everyone watching the game, while they sit and talk about who they saw at the bar last night and how they wish their kids weren't such total brats. the kids are total brats, but I don't think parents are supposed to say that about them. and they love to flick their cigarette butts ONTO THE FIELD.

there are the over-protective mothers who sit exasperated because their child isn't getting enough play time/is getting too much play time/got yelled at by the coach/the coach ignores/the other kids shun/eats grass/whatever. they may as well have a pad and paper so as not to have to remember all the mental notes they plan to go over with the coach after the game. just write it all down and mail it to him instead. it'll get the same amount accomplished.

and then there are the people that get written about in newspapers - the ones that take the same mental notes as the exasperated mothers, but tend to write them into their memory banks OUT LOUD. and as they get more annoyed, they say them louder and louder and then wind up just making total asses of themselves. or get thrown out. I love when they get thrown out, too. it's excellent. except for the fact that their kids are learning from this. they then begin to act the same way in the dugout, and instead of throwing the kid out, the umpire is forced to take measures against the team as a whole and the coach individually instead.

we had a know-it-all name-dropper and a stand alone father near us the whole game last night. there was a clique on the bench and the other side had 2 trash families, one of which barked whenever they had a good play. (barked, like a dog. so much like a dog that sean and I were trying to figure out where they were hiding it.) bella was well behaved, but cold. she wound up falling asleep toward the end. trent came home in a good mood, which can be rare when he loses. and brett only had to contend with one parent saying her kid sat out an inning when she thought he shouldn't. so it went rather well.

the rest of the season will be spent being annoyed by the other parents, me running to the dugout every few innings to tell brett to calm the hell down, me and brett yelling at trent to not get so upset about everything, and sean only being able to make weekday games. and bella is the wildcard.

it's going to be a looooooooooooong spring. on the upside? trent's an amazing baseball player and I expect that he'll have lots of those exhilirating moments. and I hope I spelled exhilirating right because I've used it several times now.


Mass Pike to our door

SEAN RETURNS TODAY. the house is in shambles, bella hasn't been bathed in 3 days, I got about 4 hours of sleep last night, and I'm having trouble today constructing sentences.

you'd think I never spent time by myself before. it's amazing that trent is as functional as he is, if this is any indication of "the lost years" that I can't seem to remember, circa 95-98.

there are 3 things I expect from sean's return:

1. a VERY long dissertation on each and every band that performed.
2. a VERY long nap by me.
3. a VERY long sigh by sean (after looking around at the house he left in pristine condition.)

welcome home, beekeeper.


we are family

I remember what I wanted to say in this post. duh.

your comments on the family post? totally excellent. it's so interesting to see how names evolved, but even moreso to get a glimpse inside family dynamics and what's helped each of you become who you are today. that sounds lofty and heady, but it's true.

the perils of suburb driving

this morning on my way to work, I think I was held up by every single type of slow-moving vehicle there is. it started out waiting for a giant 18-wheeler to make a right turn it really shouldn't have been making. that took me through a whole traffic-light cycle. then I was behind a school bus, and apparently these days, they don't make kids walk more than 3 or 4 feet to get to a bus stop - they just keep stopping every other house instead. (meanwhile, I had to walk about a quarter mile to my bus stop even though the bus passed my house. lazy kids.) when that finally moved out of the way, I was behind a trash truck. that's not always such a problem, but it definitely is hell if you're not only behind a trash truck, but behind a car that doesn't know IT CAN JUST GO AROUND THE TRASH TRUCK. and when there's another car behind the car that's behind the trash truck and that car won't go around either? instant road rage. I finally put that behind me, and then I swear to god, next was a street sweeper. a freakin street sweeper. and the finale? geese crossing the road. GEESE. CROSSING THE ROAD. honestly, it took me just as long to get to work today as it did when I drove 30 miles to pottstown every day.


sean left for massachusettes today. mike storm and joe quick stayed over last night and are driving up with him. I feel bad because I was so tired this morning when they left. if you ever want to see me at my most cranky and miserable, wake me up an hour before my alarm is set. I hate that. I try to get back to sleep and it never really works. so sean left at about 6:30, which is a half hour before my alarm goes off, so I wasn't in the best mood. and then I got in the shower and heard about an accident that was so bad that the highway was shut down indefinitely - since I turned on the radio in the middle of the report, I didn't know it was in jersey - and I immediately felt 10 times worse. so knock on wood knock on wood knock on wood, I hope he gets there safe and sound and then I can apologize over the phone for not being nicer to him this morning.

trent's science fair project actually turned out well. though mason seriously needs medication. the kid is a spaz. and of course, when the teachers came around, mason decided to do all the talking and trent sat there and let him - and I wanted to run over and yell MASON DIDN'T DO ANYTHING AND TRENT DID IT ALL AND NOW MASON IS MAKING IT LOOK LIKE IT WAS ALL HIS IDEA! I mean, the kid actually said "and then I got the food and kept it at my house and took pictures." seriously? that's the ONLY thing he did. and he bought the food with trent's money. but I'm trying to let it go. trent didn't seem upset so I shouldn't be either. but if he gets a bad grade or his teacher says he didn't do as much as mason, then I'm going to explode.

bella is staying at daycare extra long today because sean won't be picking her up, and she's dressed adorably in the red and pink heart pants nicole bought for her and a pink long sleeved onesie. this makes dropping her off and going to work and not driving right back there to pick her up even harder than usual, but hopefully the day will go by quickly.

I feel like there was something else I wanted to share, but I can't remember what. oh well, maybe it'll be one of those dual posting days.


name game

I know I've been doing alot of "2 posts in one day" lately, and it's totally because I am so bored at work.

I was just talking to my friends about having to teach my mom and her husband, Robert E Lee, how to use the computer. and it got me to thinking about Robert E Lee and a recent conversation we had about what bella was going to call him when she was old enough to speak. which is really weird for a few reasons: 1, I have trent already and trent calls him Robert. (sidenote: the man's name is really Robert E Lee, it's not some sort of funny nickname. and he insists on being called robert and not bob or rob or anything else.) 2, do people have discussions about this? I don't remember that about trent, trying to figure out what to call his grandparents. but then again, my sisters and brothers already had kids so my parent's names were already chosen, and trent's dad's parents weren't speaking much to me at the time, so that was a non issue too. (my mom is Mamom and my dad is Pop-Pop, but to distinguish him from trent's father's dad, who is also pop-pop, trent calls my dad Pop-Pop Guitar, since my dad has been known to strum a few songs for trent.)

at any rate, we sat around and tried to think up names for Robert E Lee. sean thought up an excellent one that everyone in the room liked but robert: Popbert. how adorable is that. but for some reason, robert didn't like it. later, after all of us trying to convince him how perfect it was, he agreed to Grand Popbert. (I will teach bella to say Popbert anyways.)

because my parents and sean's parents are all divorced, there are alot of grand-whatevers to be reckoned with, including Robert E Lee and my dad's wife Kathy, both of whom are step-grand-parents (grand step parents?) to trent, but for some reason it never came up and trent calls them robert and kathy. but anyway, so now they are all talking about what each of them is going to be called.


what do you call your grandparents? if you have kids, what do they call your parents and in-laws?

the average baby

first off, this is the last day before sean heads out on his trip. and to say goodbye, I came home last night to find a brand new garden claw on the front porch. thank you, sean. first I had to make sure, though, that it was for me, and wasn't going to be some sort of prop for the trip. "yo, did you see that guy's gauntlets??" "yeah, but wait till they get a load of my GARDEN CLAW."

so anyway, today we took bella to the doctor's for her 6 month checkup and myriad needles. since we had cut her antibiotic treatment short, we were a little afraid that she'd still have some raging ear infection or something equally our fault, but thankfully, the doctor said she was fine.

bella has quite a few doctors. it's a practice of about 6 doctors, and though you can choose to see the same one every time, we often like to change it up. partially so that we become familiar with all the doctors in case there's ever an emergency and our favorite isn't available, and partially because we haven't especially liked any of the doctors yet. today we saw dr. jayraj again. he's our favorite so far, but that's not saying that much. he's a nice man, gentle, and when he says things that should make my blood boil, he says it in such a way (with his heavy indian accent) that I don't seem to get as mad until after the fact. like today, when he asked me yet again if I went back to work and how I shouldn't have if I did.

so dr. jayraj said that bella was fine to get her shots today, so she did. poor thing. she cried more than usual, probably because she's thinning out.

when we first brought her home, and for the first month, she was in the 90th percentile for height and weight. that means that she was heavier and taller than 90% of babies her age. she moved down to 75th percentile in the months that followed and stayed there. however, today, at 15 lbs 8 oz and 25.5" tall, she's just shy of the 50th percentile. not that I care if she's heavier or lighter than other babies, but I was concerned that she was so drastically different this time than last time.

the doctor and nurse told me it was likely because she's more active, burning more calories. if that is the case, I plan to buy myself a high chair and throw mardi gras beads on the floor over and over again so I can get rid of my love handles finally. and I think her slowed weight gain is also because she doesn't eat solids yet.

(sidenote: remember how she had her first applesauce yesterday? well, it came out the other side this morning. and holy hell, it sure stunk. sean kept saying "breathe through the mouth. breathe through the mouth.")

when we asked dr. jayraj if there was anything we could do to make her like formula more, he suggested trying soy and to keep offering it to her over and over until she takes it. thanks! I was hoping for something more like "spin around 3 times, repeat the phrase 'prowie hates the wino' while shaking the bottle, and blink every 4 seconds while feeding her, and she will definitely eat the formula. we only give this information to people who ask for it." he sent us on our way with a prescription for vitamins and eye drops, as he wants to supplement her vitamin intake and keep the goop out of her eyes. (this morning, they were glued shut again.) so that'll be great - trying to get her to take the vitamins and putting drops in her eyes 3 times a day.

the highlight of the visit, for bella, was the scale/bed that she was laying on the entire time. because it is covered with wonderful, crinkly, rippety PAPER. she just laid there on her back, hands at her sides, grabbing and crumpling the paper over and over again. and when she realized she could pull it up on one side to get more of it in her hands, well, she was in heaven. (until those 4 pesky 5" needles plunged into her thighs.) we ought to get some of that paper...it doesn't fall apart as much, it doesn't rip as much, and it crinkles well, because it is like wax paper only not so waxy. we'll get a roll of it and call it "the babysitter" since we could have walked out of that exam room and right back home and not had to worry about her getting upset or cold or anything. nothing existed to her but her binky and that paper. I wish I had a binky and some paper to enthrall me that much.

and tonight is science fair night. last night, in an effort to make the trifold look a little better, and to get out of cooking again, I offered to buy all the same foods that were totally moldy in the containers in our basement so we could take a "before" picture. (even though mason "did" take one. I don't believe him.) so I had mcnuggets and a cheeseburger, trent had a quarter pounder, we all shared fries, and sean had a filet o fish and a big mac. we put them all together and took a lovely photo and then trent and I trekked around trying to find a place to go that took our memory stick so we could print out a picture. on the night before it's due! go figure!!

mason is in charge of the second trifold which is supposed to contain all the pictures he took of the food as it got moldy. I am guessing that it's going to look like crap and that trent will be upset.

we'll see.



sean called. bella hadn't been drinking her bottles lately - sean said it was like she was on strike. and he figured out why - we had been mixing breast milk with formula, half and half. and she had been fine with it up until a few days ago. so today he gave her straight up breast milk and she downed the bottle in no time. so, in his world, things are great because hey, he figured out why she's not eating! we'll just give her breast milk only!

EXCEPT I AM TRYING TO WEAN HER. and not only that, but since she's been doing half and half for about 2 weeks now, my supply has dwindled significantly. I mean SIGNIFICANTLY. I am only able to produce half as much milk as I did before we introduced formula. so now I am freaked out. it'll take me forever to build up my supply again and I do not want to continue breastfeeding anyways. what about vacations? what about sleeping without a bra? WHAT ABOUT BUFFALO CHICKEN STRIPS??

sean just called again, and he said that after giving her 2 ounces of straight breast milk, he sat her down, gave her a stern talking-to, strapped on a bib, and fed her applesauce for 15 minutes straight. thank god. because if she's going to try to live on my stuff alone, she's going to go from "bridget jones" renee zellweger to "I swear I'm not that fat and I will prove it by overcompensating" renee zellweger in no time.

and the rutbeer was good this time, too

I went home a little early yesterday to deliver trent's printouts for his science fair project, and yes, I did a little...uh...tweaking of the text. not alot, mind you. and judging on how he and mason painted their trifold (the cardboard thingie that they use to present their info) and how they plan to lay out their info, the updated text isn't going to help much. I guess it's time for tough love.

so I got home and gave the stuff to trent and mason, who had come by to watch trent work on their project, and found myself with a lovely afternoon to spend with sean and bella. we sat on the porch for about 30 seconds, till neither one of us could deny that our front yard, small as it is, looked like hell. when I mentioned to sean that we really needed to cut the grass, he said "yeah, I know, I had 'welcome to the jungle' playing in my head." so I went upstairs to change my clothes so I could cut the grass, because last year when I was pregnant, I wasn't allowed to and I had told sean that if he did it that summer, then I'd do it for the rest of my life. and sean, being the benevolent man he is, said "don't worry. I'll do it." (and I'm going to attribute that to him being wonderful, and not doing it out of a sense of profound guilt at leaving me alone for 4 days while he metals out.)

so sean cut the grass and I set out to do some weeding. have I ever mentioned my intense allergies to pollen, grass, and sometimes plain old air?? so yeah. after doing all that, I was NOT going to cook dinner, too. on our walk the other day, I made sean promise that we'd go to more local eateries this summer instead of driving far away, since lansdale needed us to help revitalize (or something that made us sound equally as important to our local economy.) so we decided to go to carolyn's. which was closed. that ended our lansdale cuisine search and we went to iron hill brewery instead.

we had first taken bella to iron hill when she was about 2 weeks old, and have taken her there several times since then, but not in about a month or so. and we have taken bella to all kinds of restaurants, including restaurants that we probably shouldn't have taken her to. (tip: if the bathroom doesn't have a changing station, you're not supposed to bring babies there.) and she's always been a perfect angel. but that was before she became Reachy VonGrabb, enthralled with all things paper.

we got there and kept her in her carseat atop something they call a "hammock" which is designed specifically for holding infant car seats up to table level. first mistake, because bella, now that she's totally into sitting up (but can't do it for long periods by herself), does not like to lay back in her infant seat. so we had to have her on one of our laps. after moving away the 2 forks, the knife, and the salt and pepper shakers well out of reach, she was left with a spoon, a napkin, the paper placemat, and two totally meaningless toys we brought in the hopes of keeping her distracted. first, the spoon, which was significantly heavier than what she should have been playing with, flew off the table. each time a baby toy was introduced, it was quickly pushed aside. the objects of desire were the napkin and the placemat, both of which were reduced to wrinkled, soggy messes before our meal came out.

and speaking of, waiters - when there is a baby that is destroying things at a table, BE SURE TO PUT A RUSH ON THAT TABLE'S FOOD. not only didn't we get our food in a timely fashion for people with a grabby baby, we didn't get it in a timely fashion for normal people. it took like a half hour!!

and as we watched her seek and destroy and fidget and scowl, we were reminded of a gentler time, when we could take our sleeping bundle anywhere, even places with no changing table...


te-asty te-uesday

I stayed up enough last night to watch nanny 911 but not long enough to watch supernanny. so our house will now fall to shambles. but thankfully, when it does, my marriage will last because I plan to watch the new series marriage 911. I can't believe they snuck that in there at the end of last night's episode - the people from the episode, which featured a man that I think was an actor, are still not fixed, so they will be the crossover between nanny911 and marriage911. the funniest thing was that when nanny stella (the one that is almost scottish and says "famleh" instead of family) said to the two of them, who had been bickering, "I'm not a marriage counselor." I thought that was the most astute observation that I'd ever seen on this show. for someone who thinks they're going to barge in and "fix" some suburban white rich family's problems in 5 days (problems not limited to bad children's behavior and which are usually fixed by said families hiring an actual nanny who does housekeeping) to not butt into the marital affairs seemed like a dream - some writer or producer realizing that they are not miracle workers and shouldn't pretend to be so. but it was all a plug for the new series. I was so duped. well played, tv exec people! ya got me!!

before we settled in to be soothed to sleep by our friend TV, we took boba on a walk with maggie...me with the stroller and sean with the leash. it was very nice. why we didn't stop in to get a water ice at rita's, I'll never know. next time.

and - surprise!!! trent's science fair stuff? c r a p. he sent it to me to print at work since our printer was taken by The Great Washing Machine Hose Mishap And Basemental Flood Of 2003, and in reading it, I realized (quite suddenly) that it was the lamest thing I'd ever read. so I'm torn between letting him crash and burn, and helping him out. I'm leaning towards helping him out....

shout out to nicole, mark, carol, and especially larry -
"Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place." -Susan Sontag

here's hoping that his passport sees him through the kingdom of the sick and delivers him to a place where he no longer feels his pain.


ode to cadbury mini eggs

my love, my cadbury mini eggs, you only come out at easter.
when march comes round and eggs come out, I know I'm in for a feaster.
I buy a bag, the largest they have, and pour you into a big bowl
and figure I'll just throw away my scale and my stupid crappy WuhWuh goal.
cadbury mini eggs, I love you so much, and if I weren't already betrothed,
I'd marry you, in a big chilled field, and together we'd be candy-shell enrobed.

the end.

now about the weekend.

bella's favorite things: a list.
5. mommy. yeah, sean, I said it.
4. our comcast remote.
3. sealed plastic bags filled with sponge paint brushes.
2. mardi gras beads.
1. anything paper.

the girl loves paper. it's insane. I have never seen her reach for something like she reaches for the little reply mail cards that fall out of magazines. she loves to chew on it and squish it up and look at it and chew on it some more. and of course, she'll choke on the pieces she gets in her mouth and get poisoned from the ink. as she will hang herself with the mardi gras beads and suffocate on the plastic bags after she pokes her eye out with the sponge paint brushes while recording 13 minutes of Lingo on our DVR.

the only thing safe on that list is mommy. and I'm not all that safe considering I gave her the other 4 things to play with.

trent's science fair project
just a heads up that trent's project is due on thursday. he's doing the same experiment from The Smoking Fry extra feature on the Supersizeme documentary. he wanted to see if the fries will now get moldy since mcdonalds changed their oils to something more, how you say, edible. and knowing trent's penchant for doing things at the last possible minute, including getting upset about doing things at the last possible minute at the last possible minute, it should make for some "funny" stories.

vacuum cleaners
first off, is that even how you spell vacuum cleaner? vaccuum cleaner? vacum cleaner? whatev. anyways, we had a kitty litter incident this weekend that required alot of vacuuming. and when I used our old, beat up vacuum that my dear father fixed for us, I got the most severe shocks I have ever had in my life. like I was seriously shocked, and I could feel it for a good 3 hours afterwards. so I got right on the phone and screamed to sean that I was buying another fucking vacuum cleaner TODAY, goddamn it!! and of course he said sure. so I packed up the kids and went to walmart to buy a new vacuum cleaner. we can't afford the harry potter special (aka the dyson "I had-dit" vac) so I tried to figure out what would be comparable. another lady was looking at the same time and we both started to gravitate toward the hoover miracle vac or whatever it's called...but I got it first.

so it's "bagless" and that conceivably means that you don't have to buy lots of bags. instead, you have to buy 3 times as many filters. but this one we have has this little light on it that is red when it's picking up dirt and turns green when that area of the rug is cleared of dirt. we can also call this feature the Trent Can't Pretend He Did A Good Job Vacuuming Anymore Even Though He Totally Didn't feature. and it's heavy, so it seems like it's doing a better job. at any rate, it makes much more noticeable lines in the carpet that make it look like you vacuumed. and it does suck...in that it sucked up all the litter that the other one, while shocking me, just seemed to spread around.

sean's family
you know, this is a whole nother blog unto itself right here, but suffice it to say that on saturday, we went to our niece Mollie's 3rd birthday, and the girl got more presents than most kids get at christmas and birthday combined. but what was really annoying (and conveniently has nothing to do with sean's family) is that this one lady insisted that mollie open her present first - and she had 2 boys that seemed to be about maybe 4 and 6 years old that wanted to "help". now, mollie is hardcore into princess stuff, so everything was pink and fluffy, but I guess the excitement of a whole pile of presents crosses gender lines. anyways, so I figure that this woman is hovering around mollie insisting she open her presents first because she must have to leave early, as some of the other people were saying they had to do. mollie opens the lady's presents, says thank you, and the woman stayed right where she was. now, sean's family is large, and there were quite a few people there. and this woman? wasn't even related. wtf, lady?? and she stayed there for the whole 45 minutes it took for mollie to open the presents, as did her 2 present-grubbing children. what was the point of that whole "open mine first" then?? that shit annoys me.

and finally...

our trip to the police
so trent had mason over this weekend, as they are doing the science fair project together. (or rather trent's doing it and mason is "helping".) while they were "taking a break" (which comprised much of the day) they went out back to throw the football around in the alley behind our house. which means they went out back and did stuff they weren't supposed to, with a football in hand. they came running in, breathless, and told me that there was something going on out on the train tracks. (they were PLAYING ON THE FREIGHT TRAIN TRACKS. heart palpitations. and yes, there are still trains that come down those tracks at irregular intervals several times a day.) now, trent's heavy into CSI so he's going all crime lab crazy, but they did find a wallet. a thick, heavy wallet with not only a driver's license, but myriad credit cards and even the guy's social security card...which by the way, you're not supposed to carry around. tons of paperwork was stuffed inside it. in fact, it was quite seinfeldesque and one had to wonder how on earth the man could even sit on this wallet. it couldn't be folded, seriously.

so I checked out where they found it and not finding anything crazy, I told them we'd eat dinner, and then when we took mason home, we'd go by the police station to turn it in. I think this was probably the singular best experience in either of their lives. (though mason had once been shot by a beebee gun in north wales, and now cautions all of his friends to watch out because north wales is a bad neighborhood. to put it in context, it's like saying "be careful in Marshmallow Fairyville, because it's a bad neighborhood".) the police officer came out, asked them questions, wrote in his little book (well actually he wrote on the back of a reply mail card from a display about child abuse but he was reaching for his little book that he keeps in his front pocket, but it wasn't in there, but anyways) and asked for their names. so we'll see where that goes. trent is convinced that the man is dead, and that the CSU team will be out shortly to look for fingerprints and other evidence. yes, the Lansdale CSU team.

so that was our weekend. can't wait to read about yours.

COPS - lansdale

let's hear it for sean and his first posts in the blog! nicely done. we'll not speak of the awfulness that preceeded his posts appearing here; suffice it to say that wires were crossed and angers flared until everything was properly put into place.


a post will appear later today when I have time to properly write one, dealing with:

  • bella's favorite playthings
  • trent's science fair project
  • vacuum cleaners
  • sean's family
  • our trip to the police station

it's been a full weekend, for sure.


Onward to Metal Mecca

If you don't know by now, I work the weekend shift here at the Comcast Data Center in West Chester, PA. The good news is this is the last weekend I'm working before going on vacation next week. Selfishly, I'm going to Worcester, MA with friends Storm, Mulhearn, Joe Quick, WB, Erik, Chops, and the Stecks to attend the 7th annual New England Metal and Hardcore Festival. Patrice is saintly for agreeing to me going away not one day or two days or even three days...but FOUR days for nothing more important than me headbanging for three days with my best friends. All the while, Patrice will be home caring for our adorable and dependent Bella on her own with no help from me. I am eternally grateful for her letting me go. I can justify it by thinking that I deserve a break, but don't we all? Patrice certainly does I can tell you that. But, do we ever get a chance to take that break? Because of her flexibility, my break goes into reality phase next weekend. What will her reward be? Maybe I'll seek out the funniest/best metal slogan t-shirt and try to retrieve it for her Capture the Flag-style. I can do better than that. How about a break for her then? Patrice, you're welcome to go away whenever you want. You sure as hell deserve it. As much as I'm looking forward to the fest (I've had it planned since last December), I'm not looking forward to the guilt that I might feel if I find out that Patrice had a rough go of life while I was away. Worse than that fear is the inevitable feeling of separation anxiety that will ensue the moment I leave our house. The only thing I love more than extreme music is family and friends, and leaving one for the other over the course of a weekend renders me powerless in the realm of being a family man. I'm not used to this since becoming a father. I will be transforming into Drunk Headbanger man who will have no influence over what happens at home, which is where the most important part of my life exists. At least it's only a weekend. I can't imagine what my brother Billy had to go through when he had to leave his kids with his divorced wife while he serves an indefinite tour in Kuwait. I guess the difference is that he didn't have a choice, and I have a choice. It's not like I'm going off to war or something, but then again, some people could see it that way if they witnessed hundreds of Kung Fu crazy kids opening up vicious pits at the sound of the first down-tuned power chord from Hellspawn War Hammers of the Nordic Wind.

"Life as a Notebook" Analogy

Well, by definition, this is more like a metaphor. I was taught that metaphors use the words "like" or "as" to draw comparisons. Similes do not. So then, what is an analogy? Maybe it's both. I can probably Google it, but I don't care enough. I'd rather get started, so, here we go!

In a blogging sense, this feels like my first day of school. You know that feeling when you had NOTHING written in your clean, white notebook, and you're ready to start filling it with EVERYTHING that comes out of the teacher's mouth by writing it as NEATLY as can be? I used to get frustrated when I had to scribble out my first word, or when I missspeled my first word, or when I bent or ripped my first page, or when I unsuspectingly created my first doodle as a result of boredom (I used to draw the "S" that starts out as 6 lines, and then you connect them to form an "S" fit for a superhero other than Superman. You know? "S" for Sean? I'll show you sometime). Something as pure and innocent as clean, white paper in un-creased bookbinding gets more and more tainted as time goes by. Toward the middle of the year, I would look back at how nice my writing was on the first day, and how day by day, my writing would become more and more illegible. It had nothing to do with not caring. I think it was more of shift in focus. The little things, like keeping a neat notebook, started losing emphasis in my mind because the subject matter of what is supposed to fill the book took precedent. What's my point? Well, this is my first blog entry much like my first note taken in class for that school year. In elaborating on that comparison (or metaphor), I have come to the conclusion that life is like a notebook, except for the most part, you don't get a fresh start at it per year. Sure, people use New Year's resolutions, but who sticks with them anyway?

Wait, where am I going with this? I can see I'm off to a good start. For me, it's fine because I'm off on some tangent that's allowing me to think and express what's on my mind, but for you, the poor reader? If this is anything that tells you what to expect from reading my blog entries, you might fear boredom. Fear not! I can't help the fact that I just worked 8 hours, and I have another 4 to go. This is a way of escaping my boredom. I promise not to make a habit of it. What I will focus on instead are things about me that Patrice hasn't already mentioned. Not only will you be informed about what's going on in my head and life, but I'll have a nice little (or long) record or diary of my life to accompany the point-of-view that Patrice has already shared. After all, this is the double point of blogging, isn't it? It keeps you informed, and it helps me remember, right? Help me out here. Today is my first day, and don't tell me that the swimming pool is on the roof!


madam, I'm adam

so we went to go see palindromes at the prince last night as part of the philly film fest. and to our surprise, we saw lots of great people there. first, we heard that theresa and todd were going to be there, but I was like, it's a big place, we'll never track them down. and I looked straight ahead and there they were. we sat together like we were on a double date. I wanted to hold theresa's hand but I was too shy.

after the movie, we saw sean's college friend rena. she works for banyan and is really cool. I didn't get to talk to her much because sean was hogging her.

but during the movie, we got to see the director himself, who stayed after for q&a. sean was thrilled.

I hate q&a sessions. I hate the awkward pauses while everyone turns to everyone else to see who is going to ask the first question. I hate looking at the person waiting to answer questions while he waits for someone to ask them. and then I hate when two people start to ask questions at the same time. I hate when an awkward question is posed. I hate when the questions session is closing just as someone is starting to ask his question, making the questioner red in the face and making him look all around uncomfortably. I hate when there is a q&a session in progress and people's cell phones ring and/or they get up to leave. all of these things happened during last night's q&a, so I was a little uncomfortable there.

and where was bella during all this? hanging with her boyfriend at HIS house. his parents were home, though. I'm not sure if they were ever alone together without his parents around, but I do know that they swapped spit. don't they grow up so fast?

bella still is having ear trouble. people at work, ultra granola crunchy people, told me that a few drops of breast milk in her ear will clear her up by morning. can you believe that? and it helps clear up pink eye and baby acne. it slices, dices, and juliennes. I asked if it could patch my roof next, please. so we're going to try that....and because we are insane crazy, crazy insane, we are going to forgoe the rest of the antibiotics. because I really think it's doing more harm than good - on her psyche, on our psyche, on her tummy - and it doesn't seem to be helping her ear issues.

the worst that happens is that she has to go on more antibiotics. right? right??

ps, crunchy granola mother people introduced me to a concept I didn't know existed. now, this is behavior that goes beyond any boundary of ultra organic mother earth stuff I ever have heard of. non-diapering. can you even imagine??


pretty pictures instead.

bella, trent, brett
@ flower show

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introspection for a minute

I was all ready to write another entry about how all these bad things keep happening to me. (like my 2am realization that my bad haircut is actually a mullet, that I have a stain on my shirt that I didn't notice before going to work today, that I can't seem to keep my mouth shut when I am supposed to, etc.) and then I was like, I don't even want to address it all again. sure, it's funny when I read it back to myself. ha ha, remember when I had that mullet? boy that was klassik.

but I don't want to relive it today. not today.

I'm usually pretty good at laughing at myself. in fact, one of my main staples of conversation with people I am just getting to know is to whip out some crazy and/or funny story about something dumb I've done recently. it definitely puts people at ease when they know you're an idiot. it is relaxing to them, I suppose. (of course, I don't do that ALL the time, just when my keen instincts tell me to. and when my keen instincts are wrong, well, then I have another story to tell another group of people.)

but not today. today, with reading 1 small email from a friend who said something cutting that normally I'd find hilarious or at the very least true, I actually cried. at my desk. like a stupid little kid. which made me more upset and hence more hot tears.

maybe it's the lack of sleep. maybe it's the pressure. maybe postpartum depression is setting in. maybe it's my hormones out of whack again because I'm trying to start weaning. maybe it's just a shitty-ass day.

I hope to be my usual jovial self again soon. in the meantime, I suggest you look to the archives if you'd like to laugh at me about something - plenty of fodder there.


all the good people hate shrimp

so I have food issues. most of my friends know this. I don't believe in cheesecake because cheese does not belong in cake. neither do carrots. and zucchini doesn't belong in bread. I don't like my food to touch on the plate and I eat one thing at a time. I think cow's milk is for calfs only. if I eat yogurt, I can't look at the part of the container that says "active culture". [sidenote: I am eating yogurt for breakfast this morning. I couldn't remember the exact phrase on the yogurt container that I was thinking of, because I try not to look at the container, but in order to get it right I looked at the container. and now I cannot finish my yogurt.] I can't eat chicken if it has bones. for the most part, I only like hotdogs in retrospect out of a sense of nostalgia. basically, I can't think too much about food at all or I can't seem to eat it. unless it's cookies or candy, because I can't find anything wrong with them whatsoever.

the one group of food that I really cannot seem to understand even more than cheesecake is seafood. the fishy type fish, like salmon, I can't stomach because I can't seem to eat something that is in the same basic shape as it was when it was alive. fish are small enough that you can tell exactly what it looked like when it was swimming around. and the eyes bug me out, even if they aren't on the fish when it's served. I picture them on the fish and I can't do it. and that's not even talking about the black/brown parts you often find in fish. what the hell is that, anyways.

and then there are shellfish. shellfish are the most insane foodstuffs that I can think of, besides creepy areas where they eat dogs and stuff. they are pointy and hard and freaky. oysters - what kind of darwinian throwback is that?? what would you do if you saw a lobster crawling on you in the middle of the night, throw on a bib and melt some butter?? I wouldn't find the biggest spider possible and crack open its legs, so I can't understand king crab legs. and shrimp? people, it's a centipede that has adapted to water.

so my friend jen found this site and sent it to me. and it's all the ammunition I need for when people try to ARGUE with me that seafood (especially shrimp) is good and I should like it. (this is infinitely better than my standard "I'm allergic to shrimp" line.) in fact, I think I will get this url printed on a business card and hand it out. if only they'd branch out into cheesecake territory and lose the gay thing. oh, and not be so sarcastic about it.

sweet potatoes

so bella's ears are probably doing okay, but she is totally cranky. she hates the medicine. and hates us for giving it to her. nicole said that she thought that in some weird way, noah wouldn't trust her anymore for leaving him behind, and I feel the same way about bella not trusting me to take good care of her and not bring her harm. I mean, she seriously tenses up her whole body, her eyes bug out, and she shakes when we try to give her the medicine. it's like we're feeding her shards of glass. it's gotten to the point that I can't be in the room (or on the same floor) when sean and trent give her the medicine. (ps, thank god for sean and trent.)

so I have ruined her trust in me. and to make it more official, we pissed her off some more when trying to get her to at least try eating solid food again. this time, it was sweet potatoes. she had seemed kind of interested in what we were eating at dinner last night, so we broke out the rubber-tipped spoons again. and this time she took to it like a fish to water!!

just kidding.

she did open her mouth once. the rest of the time she pursed her lips like a little old biddy and scowled at us.

all this is taking a toll on my confidence. I know it'll pass, so it's not like I need pep talks or anything, but I do feel pretty down in general. but my good friend TV helped salve the wounds yesterday. though I felt unfulfilled by a eliminationless mat on TAR, and had a sense of "and here I am at 30 sitting on my couch" while the AI contestants sang songs from the year of their birth that I distinctly remember as coming out during my prime rollerskating years and well into my sullen teenager years...though the ROCKERS bob ice and constantine the greek are only a year or two younger than me, so that's nice.

so I'm just going to try to lay low today. we'll see how that goes.



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thanks, theresa, for introducing me to photobucket by way of your blog.

the hair.

I love my hair stylist/hair cutter person/"hair strand manipulator" - as a person. Larry has excellent hair, dresses the way I'd probably dress if I were a guy, and is, in general, a nice person. and he even cuts my hair well. (and larry is, against stereotypes, hetero, fyi.)

but the styling? uh uh. I would tell him to just leave it air dry (lord knows I'm going to go home and do it myself anyways, so why waste product) but he seems to really enjoy styling my hair. like he gets to run around me in circles spritzing, ironing, curling...maybe he thinks to himself "she dresses the way I'd dress if I were a girl" and just runs with that. but he styles with such abandon that I feel badly telling him not to bother with the control paste for today. so off he goes, gleefully scrunching and plugging things in and spritzing.

I have had the same basic hair cut for the past 5 months. I come in to get it tweaked and trimmed, but each time I leave, I look like a different maniac. (and I do look like a maniac when I get out of there.) once, he decided to flatiron the whole thing. but I'm not sure if he were sick on the day they learned about flatirons at jean madeline, because he ironed my hair in such a way that it looked like I had stuck a finger in the light socket. seriously.

the next time, in an effort to keep him away from the flatiron, I said I liked it curly. now, my hair is long on the sides, but short in the back. (just go with me here.) instead of curling the pieces that naturally curl in my hair (so why curl them at all? the mind boggles) he decided to curl all of it. even the pieces that are roughly an inch long. in all different directions. so I left the salon looking like a deranged remake of "whatever happened to baby jane" featuring shirley temple instead of baby jane hudson.

this wouldn't be such a problem if I went to a normal salon. leave the building, get in car, walk in house, get in shower, problem solved. instead, my salon is located in the plymouth meeting mall, along with my most favorite store, h&m. there is also an h&m in the mall closer to my house, but it doesn't have baby clothes. so I always make the hair appointment coincide with a shopping run. in order to get back in time for TV, er, family time, I usually have larry cut my hair around 6ish, then hit h&m before leaving. so what happens is I leave the salon looking garish and walking through the mall scaring people. or at least soliciting many, many stares.

I guess I should be somewhat happy about the situation, though, because it's really difficult to spend alot of money on clothes for myself when the stress of trying things on in front of a full length mirror with harsh lighting is compounded by catching stray glimpses of the inconvenience on top of my head.

but last night, after getting my hair cut, it was more than an idle stroll through the racks at h&m that I was planning - I seriously need clothing, since none of my old stuff fits right post-bella. and let's face it, I want new clothes. but I think last night's haircut took the prize for all-time worst styling...and this time, it wasn't all larry's fault.

this time, it was the cut AND the styling. and I am the one who told him to cut it that way.

now, when larry gets done styling my hair, even he looks a little skeptical at the results. but short of washing it and starting all over again, there's not much to be done. however, this time, larry was more than just a little skeptical. and my usual poker face was crumbling, too. people, this hair cut is BAAAAAD.

let's just say this - 2 different sizes of flatirons AND a curling iron AND about 6 different styling products on top of my bad haircut. okay? the possibilities in your mind...picture the worst and that is what I looked like, about to embark on serious spring wardrobe choices.

I left the mall with 2 shirts that were the same as ones I already own, only in different colors. because those were the only things I *didn't* try on. and I got home at 9pm. do the math. that's alot of clothes having been tried on.

I came back to sean and trent, who just stared at me for a few long moments. and when those two can realize that my hair is bad, it's reaaaal bad.

I'm wondering if I have to divorce larry. in divorcing larry, I am divorcing the entire salon. I'm not sure if I am ready for that step yet...we'll have to see what happens next time.


stream of unconsciousness

bella woke up on saturday with a burning-hot fever. I called the doctor and got an appointment that morning. she was seemingly fine except she was burning up - not really too cranky, she was still eating, she just didn't seem sick except she was hot. turns out she has her very first ear infection. trent went through many of them when he was a baby - so many, in fact, that he had to have tubes in his ears. I myself had tubes twice when I was a baby. so it wasn't unfamiliar territory to hear about it. she is on antibiotics and her fever went down after about a day. she hates taking the medicine and it's all I can do to get it in her.

though hearing about the issue wasn't unfamiliar, dealing with it felt alien. I remember clips of trent's ear infections - driving around for hours at night, having him sleep in his infant seat, pushing him around in circles in his stroller in the living room at 2am - but I didn't remember much else.

like most people, there are 2 places where I find myself free-associating and doing the majority of my thinking: the shower, and my car. I usually listen to the radio in the shower and in the car, always the news station, but lately, I've been listening to music at least in the car, and this makes for more "meaningful" head banter. this is what I thought about on my car ride this morning from daycare to work.

bella. the crying. I hate giving her medicine. it wasn't that hard with trent. I don't think it was that hard with trent.

I hate giving her medicine. I have to squeeze her cheeks so she'll open her mouth enough to get a drop or two of the medicine in and then open wide to scream in frustration, then I can squirt more in the back of her throat so that she has to swallow - but not too much or she'll choke and throw up. I know I didn't have to do that with trent, because I never had a medicine syringe before.

did I just forget more about trent? it's crazy how I had less, was younger, had less patience, and in a way, cared less, but I'm thrown into a total tailspin when I should be saying "this, THIS is easy. wait till she poops her pants in public and I have no spare clothes."

I thought it would be much easier this time, because I have experience, because I have the wisdom of 11 years of parenting under my belt, and because I have someone to help me. but I increasingly feel that it's harder. and bella's not a harder baby - she's very well behaved. so it's me. and it makes me sad.

I passed a dead possum on the road and a dead something else that had golden fur. I hate to think it was someone's dog so I looked away. I saw all the cars driving around and felt the weight of the world pressing down on me as everyone else lived their own lives and went their own ways. I felt alone. I feel alone.

part of me wanted to flee back to the daycare, scoop up bella, and just take her home and be with her, whether she was cranky or not - and pick up trent on the way and just sit with them both and hug them till we all fell asleep. and the other part, a smaller part of course, wanted to drive on past my work campus...past the town, the city, the state line...as far as I could get.

it sounds like somebody's got a case of the mondays.


a halls moment

to update you on the sleeping arrangement - still not good. it's seriously about 10 degrees warmer in our bedroom than in the hallway...and our window is wide open and there are no windows in the hallway. we're not used to having a neighbor on the other side of our house (it was vacant up until like october of last year) and while it was fantastic in the winter - witness our $7 gas bill every month - it is going to be hellish in the summer, I gather. so we have already opened the windows wide, plugged in the fan, and have bella sleeping in her onesie. and she's still hot. probably because she's sleeping between me and The Heater, monsignor milligan himself. (yes. she sleeps in our bed. bad, bad, bad. yes, she'll be 28 years old and still sleeping with us, we know, we know.)

so anyway. bella's new thing, it's so funny. coughing. now, when babies learn something new, they do it over and over again. it's mostly because they don't have alot of material to work with. it's either scream, ba-ba-ba, or whatever is new. in this case, coughing. the most fake, artificial cough you ever heard. and it doesn't help that she does it while smiling. I tell her all the time, "bells, you are fooling NOONE. you are a total faker." which makes her giggle and cough some more.

I hope I remember these days when she's older.


Cause I'm the Tax Man...

got our taxes done last night. panic ensued. last year, I was a 1099 contractor for the entire year, and while sean, the wonderful person that he is, kept enough money aside to pay our taxes, I just was not prepared for the amount of money they said we owed. so much so that on the way home, instead of driving to our house, I drove to our old apartment.

I thought that would be the highlight of the evening, but bella stole the show. she (and I) had been pretty tired due to both poorly sleeping and the daylight savings time change, but last night was not a night of peaceful rest. at about 2:30am, she woke up and vomited. I don't mean spit up...I mean heaving, forceful, reverse peristalsis. with dry heaves. she was clammy, pale, and wide eyed. and I was frantic, freaked out, and wide eyed. we think it was because she was too hot and drank too much...but who knows. [drank too much MILK, people.]

we called the pediatrician this morning who said that it could be nothing or it could be any one of about 60 things...but if she only did it once, there's not much to either do or worry about. and they said she'd have to take it easy today.

so no jogging or aerobics for bella today, and no running errands to the store, I guess. and we'll have to excuse her from doing her chores, even though the house is mighty dusty. the doc says take it easy, so today bella has to live the leisurely life.

I hope I get some sleep tonight.


murphy's law

a bad weekend. is it any surprise? I seem to be the walking embodiment of murphy's law. like william h. macy in "the cooler," shit seems to go wrong just by me being in the immediate vicinity.

I will say this though. friday was a good day. went to ross because trent informed me that suddenly none of his pants fit anymore. found crippety crap there. but then I went to kohl's on the off chance that something would be on sale (which is so stupid. they never NOT have a sale. I don't even know how they stay in business.) and of course everything was on sale. stuff was on sale for like 99% off. I got 2 pairs of shoes for $5 each. so friday was more or less a success...when you take away the part where I was at work.

saturday. janette's shower. at a bar. in chinatown. a baby shower in the balcony bar at the trocadero. (sidenote: when telling my dad about the shower, he and Kathy said "the old burlesque place???") so, bella's first bar. but before we even get to the shower, there's the whole fiasco of getting trent and bella and me ready, and dropping trent off at my dad's so he can stay over and go to cabela's on sunday with him and my nephew albert. blah blah blah we were late. and it was raining to end all rains. seriously like flood weather.

drop off trent and get to nicole's. instead of 40 leisurely minutes to spend preparing, I get there less than 10 minutes before we were supposed to leave. and they lock their door and could not hear me knocking 4 times and they have no awning so I was wet even before we started. foreshadowing anyone?

we try to take one car and put bella's carseat in their saturn. no dice - mark's legs are too long. so as we stand in the rain figuring out what to do, I say screw it and decide to take my car too. drive to the troc at 10th and arch. for some reason, everyone on earth is driving in chinatown. why?? was there something at the convention center we didn't know about???? because it wasn't supposed to be that hard. nicole calls my cell from her car right in front of me. how far do we want to walk? dammit, we gotta get in a paid lot, that's the only way. so we do. one that charges $18 if you're anywhere over 90 minutes. still, the walk is long enough that it's annoying. noah's in the bjorn but bella is in the stroller. I try to navigate a stroller with one hand (they are not meant to be steered by one hand) and with the other I try to both shelter bella from the rain with my umbrella and try to get under it myself. like that'll work.

we get to the troc at 2 like the invite said. I never realized that there are 4 million steps to the balcony. mark took the baby carrier and I folded up the stroller and we trekked up. all 4 people already at the venue looked at us as we entered looking like drowned rats. okay, I lie, it was 8 people.

so we sit at the highboy tables on bar stools. mark gets beers for him and nicole and a soda for me. wouldn't it be funny to take a picture with the babies pretending they are holding beers? and guess what happens next. luckily, no one was in the way of the spilled beer, except one of bella's toys. (sidenote: I just remembered that I had clipped that toy to her carseat and it reeks of beer. where is the carseat now? at daycare. in a very enclosed space that I'm sure is not used to smelling like beer.) ha ha, noah spilled a beer. we're in a bar. no biggie.

about 5 minutes later, bella's all "noah always gets to spill things and I NEVER do. no fair." and proceeds to spill my full soda. but to outdo noah, she made sure to spill it on someone. me. as nicole says, it's lucky I was wearing black pants so no one really knew but me that my entire right leg was completely soaked. wet, cold, and sticky, I tried to just smile about it. even as the ice in my sock melted.

so I said we got there at 2. I think janette and perry got there around a day later. I say that to make the actual time they got there seem sooner. now I'm not saying that to be mean - hell, if I had to drive from reading in that awful rain and was pregnant, I'd be telling people they're lucky they saw me at all. so I say THEY WERE REALLY LATE with love and respect and total understanding. but they were late. reallllly late.

so after janette mingled and several hours had gone by, and we finally watched her open presents, we were ready to leave. it seriously was raining cats and dogs. the thuds...they were awful. so much blood. so we decide to leave nicole in the lobby with the babies and go get our two separate cars from the parking garage and double park outside so the babies have minimal wetness. mark and I charge out to the parking garage. halfway there, I remember...I need the ticket to get out of the garage. I tell mark to keep going and I run back. I get the ticket. I set out again. I get halfway again and remember that they also ask for money. I run back to get money. by this time, I am so soaked that it no longer matters if I use my (crappy) umbrella or not.

I finally get my car, navigate to the troc, and park about a car's length away from the corner directly in front of a fire hydrant, put on my flashers, and become a fucking genius, in that I run into the lobby and get bella FIRST, put her in the car, which is running, and THEN go to get my stroller. this is where the story could have been really bad but I guess proves that I am somewhat lucky...because no one stole my car and baby. so thank you, gods. so there I am, soaked, I get in my car, and someone swings around the corner and parks about 2 inches behind me. I mean, I'm already illegally parked, but to park behind someone illegally parked? idiot!!! and of course it was some emo thrift-chic asshole checking to see what stupid band was playing next at the troc. and he left some passengers in his car. so I went forwardbackforwardbackforwardback a million times trying to get out of the spot and then I finally tapped his car. because it was 2 fucking inches behind me!!! what were my options, people? I gave his friends ample time to write down my license plate number so I guess I'll get to tell them in person that they are complete fools.

nicole had to lend me new pants and socks and I couldn't wear my coat home because it was too wet, even after letting it dry for 2 or so hours while the eggerts fed me and listened to my lunatic ravings.

got home, went to bed. looked forward to not getting out of pajamas all day on sunday because my dad was dropping trent off later in the day.

woke up the next morning to kathy calling me to tell me that the kids were NOT going to cabela's because the whole lot of them had spent the night bailing water out of my dad's basement. and could I come down to pick him up? what am I going to say, "no, sorry, I had a bad day yesterday and don't feel like travelling - sorry, you have to bring him to me even though you're 65 and stayed up all night doing bucket brigade." so I dressed myself and bella and went to get him. and helped with the bucket brigade. and took a sleepy trent and overtired bella to our next nightmare: costco.

I have never been to costco. do you know it costs $45 to be able to shop there? and I had to get a "business" account. because even though I could not find anyone remotely looking like a businessperson in there, apparently all the women with kids and old men in there were businesses. and everyone on earth had decided to go to costco yesterday. do you know you have to go in the exit to get a membership? seems like they might have signs there to tell you that BEFORE you get your cart and fight through literally throngs of people only to have someone yell "CARD!!!! WHERE'S YOUR CARD??????" before you find out you need some sort of card to get in.

you oughta see the picture that's on my costco card. a picture of a woman about to break. and I'll hand that over every single time I go to costco. so all 4 more times.

came home exhausted, waited impatiently for sean, ate expensive italian takeout that then had me in the bathroom for a half hour doubled over in pain, watched nancy drew the series season one (seriously) and then took a tossing and turning bella to bed. she woke up like clockwork every hour until my alarm went off. got to daycare late (with beer soaked toy) and rushed to work to get to my 9:30am meeting, which I found out minutes before it was to happen that it was cancelled.

welcome to my life, folks. it seems to only get better and better.


this one is about clothes.

since 2 things that happened this morning that involved fashion struck me as new and major differences between Old Life (pre bella) and New Life (post bella), I figured I'd write about them.

Thing 1. I am wearing Lands End jeans. my zipper is like 8 inches long. the wash on them is something circa 1991, a creamy blue faded denim. they have an enormous amount of stretch in the fabric. they have small pockets in the front. and though they are "boot cut", they are suspiciously straight legged, almost as if they are trying to become tapered somehow. why am I wearing them? it's not because I have no other jeans to wear. (though that's true, the rest ARE in the laundry.) it's because they are the ones that look the best on me. because they are high waisted. this is what I've become, folks. someone who needs high waisted pants.

if I don't wear high waisted pants, I have a couple of options. let the pouch hang over, or try to hike up the pants higher so the pouch can be tucked in. hiking up the pants gives a very serious probability of camel toe. letting the pouch hang over requires a good deal of thought on the shirt options, as I'll need something that will not allow the pouch to either be seen from underneath or be tight enough to show the ripley, mottled, roll-y lunar surface of my belly skin.

so instead of putting myself through that agony, I chose today to just go ahead and embrace middle age and just wear the high waisted lands end jeans already. but god help me, I will NOT wear the pants with the elastic on the back waistband. (though...and I say this in confidence, so don't tell...I do own a pair of those.)

Thing 2. I was reading nicole's blog and theresa asked about snaps on her bra. like do you have snaps on your bra instead of the little hook and eye clips that all other bras have. and it made me chuckle because there's a whole world of bras out there that women who don't breastfeed or have children don't know about. which is good for them. all of you ladies who don't have kids - these snappy bras are nursing bras. the cups fold down so that you can pull the girls out to nourish the baby. actually, and I've said this to sean before, I'm surprised that all bras aren't like this because it does lend some very handy accessibility for non-nourishment purposes. but regular women would never wear these nursing bras. why not? because they fit like the black leather glove on OJ's hand. I have purchased 40 thousand nursing bras and not ONE of them fits me correctly. short of getting some made for me, which they actually do (!!!) because none of the others ever fit, you just have to live with some area of the bra not fitting right. (and I'm not even that large in the chesticular area. poor nicole's giant rack literally busts out of her bras.)

there's more to not fitting than just the annoyance of the not fitting. there's the whole what bra could I possibly wear with this shirt dilemma. because some cups are not completely filled out until I'm seriously engorged with milk. (that's a whole nother post.) so they look wrinkly. which looks awful under shirts. and then there's the clips - they poke out of your shirt like misplaced nipples. like "why are patrice's nipples way up on her clavicles??" and then there's the nursing pads. people, imagine trying to get away with wearing a stayfree if you were forced to wear lycra workout tights every day. I have to stuff these stupid circle-shaped pads in my bra every day so that if milk decides to spontaneously come out (which does happen from time to time) there's something to soak it up. so not only do I have misplace nipple-looking clips, it looks like I'm stuffing my bra.

now, I am not saying all of this to scare anyone. I'm just telling it like it is. and this is true for me and some of my mom-friends. (okay, I only have one mom-friend.) but not all mothers have either or both of these issues. my sister can wear the lowest-rise jeans imaginable, the kind where they're more or less giant denim legwarmers that happen to be joined at the top by a small strip of waistband. and she's had 3 kids. granted, she's addicted to exercise, but anyway. and there are women I know who were back to their size 6 pants within 4 months of having a baby, with no discernable bulging. and there are breastfeeders who somehow manage to have nice bras.

I'm just telling you the view from my closet.