Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! Sorry this comes a little late, but the sentiment is just as strong. And, I will take this moment to admit that I am slowly but surely working my way through a big Whole Foods molasses cookie that feels like the best thing I've ever tasted. At least that's the way it feels at this moment. Even better than the big Whole Foods lemon sugar cookie I made my way through about 20 minutes ago. You wouldn't believe the amount of justification I've been creating to eat my way through Texas this week. The mantra "Oh, it's the holidays, treat yourself!" has been running through my head each time an opportunity for gluttonous food consumption has presented itself. I guess this is what it feels like to be on the long road to obesity. I really want to get off this ride, but it's just...so...darn...fun!
We spent Christmas in Corpus Christi this year in a fashion that was really alien to my normal sense of tradition. Not because we were in Corpus, but because we spent the holiday with strangers, well at least, to me. Adam has a few friends from his Navy days that live down in the area and so after speaking with them, he made plans for us to stay on the navy base and visit with the friends during our stay. I've never before celebrated Christmas with people I didn't know. Both sets of friends were warm and inviting, though, which made the strangeness and reservations of being in a new person's house on the most intimate of family days a little easier. Plus, the first family had young kids so Bryony had two playmates and lots of toys to keep her occupied.
Maybe because my husband is Jewish or perhaps because of my own desire to de-materialize the holidays and emphasize "quality time spent," we have not been very good about showering Bryony with presents in either of her two Christmas experiences. Last year, I completely forgot to shop for her at all until Christmas Eve night, when I hurriedly picked up some bath toys and car window shades just so there was somthing under the tree. Not that she was old enough to even realize the significance of it all (she still isn't) but even still, I felt bad. This year, because all of our holiday decorations are still back in Michigan, we opted not to put up a Chritmas tree. I did buy a few lights and decorations that were on clearance and strung/hung everything around the fireplace mantel, along with our menorah and dreidels, just to feel a bit more in the holiday spirit. But once again, I didn't buy anything for Bryony before the holidays. I decided to make her gift this year--one I haven't yet finished so I'll post pix when I do--instead of getting caught up the consumerism that tv commercials are trying desperately to get us caught up in.
However, after leaving Corpus Christi we stayed the last part of the weekend in Austin, where there is a Goodwill store that Adam wanted to check out. After finding one outfit for Bryony, I decided to check out the toys, and lo and behold, I found two--a push corn-grazer (think kiddie lawnmower with plastic popcorn bouncing in a glass dome on top) and a colorful little electronic keyboard with plastic animals that sing when you press certain keys (creepy but she likes it). I hated buying either of those things for her because they seem kind of nonsensical to me--is she learning anything from them???--but I decided that for Christmas, not every gift has to fulfill an educational requirement. Bryony should be allowed to just have plain old fun, right?
So that has been our Christmas, full of travels, eating and fun. Now that Christmas is over, the travels have ended, the fun has subsided and we're back to our normal routine. Now, where did I put that last cookie?
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Validation
This past weekend, we went, as we usually do, to Austin. Since we have a free place to stay (Adam's family has property there) we try to go as often as possible as a way to leave Killeen behind. Austin is the perfect getaway--akin to my liberal sensibilities, it's a nice college town and state capitol with oodles and oodles of stuff to do. In one night, we managed to eat at a ridiculously scrumptious Cuban restaurant, get hot drinks at an open-air coffee bar (which, by the way, had a really interesting 1970 photo of a naked tatooed girl stretched seductively over a Harley Davidson on the bathroom wall), happen upon and dance to a blues band performing outside under a half-shell, and tour through a really cool antique store in the last ten minutes it was open. We heart Austin.
Anyway, lovefest aside, that night a very sleepy us let a very-sleepy-but-loopy-and-overactive Bryony sleep in bed with us instead of forcing her to sleep in her own crib. She's so cute and cuddly, what could be more warm and fuzzy than having your 18-month old daughter sleeping peacefully next to you, right? She was about as peaceful as the Roman Empire when it was conquering Europe. She squirmed, she tossed, she turned...oh, and with the aromatic temptation of breastmilk only inches away from her face, she nursed. Like, every hour. Probably on the hour. Which meant I didn't sleep much and had pretty sore nipples.
By the next morning, when Adam and Bryony woke up to the bright and crisp morning even-tempered and chipper, I hunkered down under the covers and whined about having had little sleep. So Adam got Bryony dressed and ready for the day and the two of them took off for a couple hours so I could get in some more sleep. Eventually I woke up to the sound of my favorite NPR program, This American Life, coming on with their annual Christmas episode. While listening to the show, Adam and Bryony eventually filtered in, cheeks rosy from the coolness of the morning, Bryony high on the exhiliration from her time with Dad. Adam immediately fell into a heap on the chair.
"How do you do it all day long?" he asked me. I didn't get his meaning at first.
And then, I did. And a little flag of victory was plunked down into my new-found territory of Validation!
Not that Adam doesn't offer me praise and support for being a full-time mum, especially since he knows how hard it's been for me to be away from my career (the one I went to school for, that is). But this was totally different. This was the sweet taste of understanding. Of him understanding, that is.
"She was all over the place," he went on to say. "We were at the bookstore and she pulled anything and everything off of the shelves. I couldn't keep up with her! Then we found a playground and she was just running all over the place. I could really use a nap now."
I just smiled and nodded and breathed a hushed "thank you" his way. He had spent less than than two hours with her and was completely knackered; I have spent every single day of her 18 months of life with her with barely a break or reprieve. I think he finally got it.
And I am now claiming dominion over my new territory Validation. The flag is still flying.
Anyway, lovefest aside, that night a very sleepy us let a very-sleepy-but-loopy-and-overactive Bryony sleep in bed with us instead of forcing her to sleep in her own crib. She's so cute and cuddly, what could be more warm and fuzzy than having your 18-month old daughter sleeping peacefully next to you, right? She was about as peaceful as the Roman Empire when it was conquering Europe. She squirmed, she tossed, she turned...oh, and with the aromatic temptation of breastmilk only inches away from her face, she nursed. Like, every hour. Probably on the hour. Which meant I didn't sleep much and had pretty sore nipples.
By the next morning, when Adam and Bryony woke up to the bright and crisp morning even-tempered and chipper, I hunkered down under the covers and whined about having had little sleep. So Adam got Bryony dressed and ready for the day and the two of them took off for a couple hours so I could get in some more sleep. Eventually I woke up to the sound of my favorite NPR program, This American Life, coming on with their annual Christmas episode. While listening to the show, Adam and Bryony eventually filtered in, cheeks rosy from the coolness of the morning, Bryony high on the exhiliration from her time with Dad. Adam immediately fell into a heap on the chair.
"How do you do it all day long?" he asked me. I didn't get his meaning at first.
And then, I did. And a little flag of victory was plunked down into my new-found territory of Validation!
Not that Adam doesn't offer me praise and support for being a full-time mum, especially since he knows how hard it's been for me to be away from my career (the one I went to school for, that is). But this was totally different. This was the sweet taste of understanding. Of him understanding, that is.
"She was all over the place," he went on to say. "We were at the bookstore and she pulled anything and everything off of the shelves. I couldn't keep up with her! Then we found a playground and she was just running all over the place. I could really use a nap now."
I just smiled and nodded and breathed a hushed "thank you" his way. He had spent less than than two hours with her and was completely knackered; I have spent every single day of her 18 months of life with her with barely a break or reprieve. I think he finally got it.
And I am now claiming dominion over my new territory Validation. The flag is still flying.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Eighteen Going on Eighteen
In the fashion of all my "with it" mother friends who seem to have their proverbial sheisse together, I am finally posting an 18-month update on Bryony. She's actually only about 1 1/2 weeks away from 19 months, so I got this update in just in the nick of time!
I'm actually kinda glad that I'm late in doing this, because the Little Miss has been demonstrating some recent behavioral performances that I would have hated to have missed in this 18-month assessment. But, I guess I'll start with the vitals and move on to the nitty-gritty from there.
At her last check up, my little lightweight came in at 31 inches and 21 lbs, 5 oz. She was in the 90% per centile for height, but only the 25th per centile for weight. Considering I'm quite accustomed to calling her daddy the 2-legged giraffe, I think she got the whole tall and skinny thing from him (unfortunately not from me).
Her hair is curly as ever, long spiral curls that bounce when she jumps and that are long enough to be pulled back with a headband or into a ponytail.
She continues to dig breastmilk and I am happily still nursing her. I never really saw myself as someone who would nurse a toddler, but with all the recent scientific (I love science!) evidence that points to the health and emotional benefits to extended breastfeeding, I am glad to do it. We have never had to deal with an ear infection and she has only been sick (aside from the occasional sniffles) twice in her short life. I nurse her more often when I'M sick so that she gets all the antibodies I'm producing, thereby keeping her from acquiring the illness herself. So far, so good. Hopefully all this immune-strengthening brainfood I'm giving her will pay off in few school absences and a really kickass scholarship to a great university one day.
She has the most amazing smile I have ever seen.
Bryony has acquired several nicknames over the course of her 18 months, including:
Anemone (Uncle Walt called her that the day she was born, since he couldn't figure out how to pronounce bryony).
Handsy (Aunt Shannon started this one when she heard about Bryony's propensity for grabbing things she shouldn't and making big messes that I'd have to clean up. This name is very appropo).
Curly B Another aptly descriptive name that speaks for itself, originating from Aunt Tyuana
Bryony has more frequent flyer miles than most adults I know. She has been on over 20 flights, and has travelled to both U.S. coasts. She has visited the Washington, D.C. area, New York City, Michigan, Texas and Oregon. We are really trying to take advantage of the "fly-free-until-two" rule on the airlines. Not much more time!
For better or worse, Bryony has never been in daycare, and she has only been away from me for about 4-5 hours at the longest. I think this situation needs to change soon, as she needs more social interaction with kids her own age, and I could seriously use some time to myself some days. However, I have enjoyed the time that we have had together and am grateful for having had this experience as a stay-at-home mum.
Parlour tricks:
Her favorite word of all time is "NO!' which she will scream when she can embarass me in public, sing when she's being cute, or say matter-of-factly when she means it.
The evolution of her vocabulary has gone from "uhn-gee" to "gup!" to most recently, "ice!". We're not sure where the fascination with "ice" came from, but she says it all the time.
She can point to Kika and say "doh", meaning dog
She knows that dogs "woof!", cats "reow!" and cows (usually) "mooo!"
She gives tight hugs around our necks and sweet, sweet kisses on our cheeks
She loves to dance to just about any music she hears, but she particularly loves the theme music to "Who's the Boss?" and "Sanford and Son"
She has learned to say "please" (actually, it sounds more like pweees) to get what she wants, which is usually time on the breast
She says "Thank you" (or rather, yang-you!") when prompted.
Just like Mr. Brown, she can "tick" and "tock" like a clock.
Within the last week, she has learned to climb out of her pack n play.
Last weekend, after being quiet in the back of the car, she startled both Adam and me with a weird laugh and then said loudly "Oh, I like this one!". Adam asked me to look in the backseat to check that it was indeed our daughter back there; he thought she was possessed. It was kinda creepy.
She can give high-fives and play "Gimme Five, Up High, Down Low, Too Slow!".
She's a little tease. She'll offer you something she has in her hand, and then take it away just as you're reaching for it.
What A Girl Wants:
She loves the train that goes by our apartment seveal times a day and points out the window each time she hears the whistle
She loves animals, including Kika, Greg House, and the kitten we have recently taken in. She cannot stop wrapping her arms around them in tight hugs and bringing them random bits of food from her dinner plate.
She loves purses, especially mine, which she digs through daily with wild abandon. She particalarly likes the breath mints that I keep "hidden" for breath emergencies.
Bryony really likes to eat eggs, yogurt and toasted, buttered everything bagels. She's a breakfast food type of gal.
She really likes to sleep in our bed whenever we'll let her. I'm torn between my respect for co-sleeping and my dislike for the idea of the "family bed". Luckily, she goes to sleep in her own bed very easily, so we only co-sleep when we are travelling in places where we don't have her crib.
Her books. She loves to flip through her books by herself or while I'm reading. I try to get books with really beautiful illustrations so that she can connect with the stories even if she can't fully understand them. Thank you, Caldecott.
What A Girl (Doesn't) Want:
Most foods. Getting my daughter to eat is a battle at almost every meal. It's exhausting.
Saying good-bye...to...anyone Just this morning the maintenance man fixed a fan in the apartment and she bawled when he left. I think she has a bit of separation anxiety that she reserves for people she doesn't know that well. She doesn't cry anymore when either Adam or I leaves. Go figure!
Diaper changes. She hates them, even if she's toting around poop logs as heavy as cannonballs.
Getting her teeth brushed. This is probably her least favorite, most hated activity in all the world. I tried to make it fun. We laughed, we danced, we even sang during the process, but she just wouldn't open her mouth. So now, I've scarred her for life by pinning her down on the bed every night while I attack with the baby toothbrush. It's a painful process as she screams and cries (and sometimes bites me) as I navigate the brush through her little mouth. But, it's worth it to me to get those chompers cleaned at the expense of her happiness; I know of mothers whose children's teeth have rotted and I SO DON'T WANT TO GO THERE. So, toothbrush...
Looking On...
Bryony is growing and thriving and we are so deliriously happy to have her in our lives. Adam and I remind each other every day how lucky we are that she came into our lives. I am constantly amazed by her beauty, and remind myself not to focus on her outward appearance but to reinforce in her the internal beauty she radiates out to us all. Bryony is playful and sly and sarcastic and generous and kind and everything I want from a child of mine. All I can hope is that I am the kind of mother than she wants to have. And, I look forward to seeing what the next chapter in her life unfolds.
I'm actually kinda glad that I'm late in doing this, because the Little Miss has been demonstrating some recent behavioral performances that I would have hated to have missed in this 18-month assessment. But, I guess I'll start with the vitals and move on to the nitty-gritty from there.
At her last check up, my little lightweight came in at 31 inches and 21 lbs, 5 oz. She was in the 90% per centile for height, but only the 25th per centile for weight. Considering I'm quite accustomed to calling her daddy the 2-legged giraffe, I think she got the whole tall and skinny thing from him (unfortunately not from me).
Her hair is curly as ever, long spiral curls that bounce when she jumps and that are long enough to be pulled back with a headband or into a ponytail.
She continues to dig breastmilk and I am happily still nursing her. I never really saw myself as someone who would nurse a toddler, but with all the recent scientific (I love science!) evidence that points to the health and emotional benefits to extended breastfeeding, I am glad to do it. We have never had to deal with an ear infection and she has only been sick (aside from the occasional sniffles) twice in her short life. I nurse her more often when I'M sick so that she gets all the antibodies I'm producing, thereby keeping her from acquiring the illness herself. So far, so good. Hopefully all this immune-strengthening brainfood I'm giving her will pay off in few school absences and a really kickass scholarship to a great university one day.
She has the most amazing smile I have ever seen.
Bryony has acquired several nicknames over the course of her 18 months, including:
Anemone (Uncle Walt called her that the day she was born, since he couldn't figure out how to pronounce bryony).
Handsy (Aunt Shannon started this one when she heard about Bryony's propensity for grabbing things she shouldn't and making big messes that I'd have to clean up. This name is very appropo).
Curly B Another aptly descriptive name that speaks for itself, originating from Aunt Tyuana
Bryony has more frequent flyer miles than most adults I know. She has been on over 20 flights, and has travelled to both U.S. coasts. She has visited the Washington, D.C. area, New York City, Michigan, Texas and Oregon. We are really trying to take advantage of the "fly-free-until-two" rule on the airlines. Not much more time!
For better or worse, Bryony has never been in daycare, and she has only been away from me for about 4-5 hours at the longest. I think this situation needs to change soon, as she needs more social interaction with kids her own age, and I could seriously use some time to myself some days. However, I have enjoyed the time that we have had together and am grateful for having had this experience as a stay-at-home mum.
Parlour tricks:
Her favorite word of all time is "NO!' which she will scream when she can embarass me in public, sing when she's being cute, or say matter-of-factly when she means it.
The evolution of her vocabulary has gone from "uhn-gee" to "gup!" to most recently, "ice!". We're not sure where the fascination with "ice" came from, but she says it all the time.
She can point to Kika and say "doh", meaning dog
She knows that dogs "woof!", cats "reow!" and cows (usually) "mooo!"
She gives tight hugs around our necks and sweet, sweet kisses on our cheeks
She loves to dance to just about any music she hears, but she particularly loves the theme music to "Who's the Boss?" and "Sanford and Son"
She has learned to say "please" (actually, it sounds more like pweees) to get what she wants, which is usually time on the breast
She says "Thank you" (or rather, yang-you!") when prompted.
Just like Mr. Brown, she can "tick" and "tock" like a clock.
Within the last week, she has learned to climb out of her pack n play.
Last weekend, after being quiet in the back of the car, she startled both Adam and me with a weird laugh and then said loudly "Oh, I like this one!". Adam asked me to look in the backseat to check that it was indeed our daughter back there; he thought she was possessed. It was kinda creepy.
She can give high-fives and play "Gimme Five, Up High, Down Low, Too Slow!".
She's a little tease. She'll offer you something she has in her hand, and then take it away just as you're reaching for it.
What A Girl Wants:
She loves the train that goes by our apartment seveal times a day and points out the window each time she hears the whistle
She loves animals, including Kika, Greg House, and the kitten we have recently taken in. She cannot stop wrapping her arms around them in tight hugs and bringing them random bits of food from her dinner plate.
She loves purses, especially mine, which she digs through daily with wild abandon. She particalarly likes the breath mints that I keep "hidden" for breath emergencies.
Bryony really likes to eat eggs, yogurt and toasted, buttered everything bagels. She's a breakfast food type of gal.
She really likes to sleep in our bed whenever we'll let her. I'm torn between my respect for co-sleeping and my dislike for the idea of the "family bed". Luckily, she goes to sleep in her own bed very easily, so we only co-sleep when we are travelling in places where we don't have her crib.
Her books. She loves to flip through her books by herself or while I'm reading. I try to get books with really beautiful illustrations so that she can connect with the stories even if she can't fully understand them. Thank you, Caldecott.
What A Girl (Doesn't) Want:
Most foods. Getting my daughter to eat is a battle at almost every meal. It's exhausting.
Saying good-bye...to...anyone Just this morning the maintenance man fixed a fan in the apartment and she bawled when he left. I think she has a bit of separation anxiety that she reserves for people she doesn't know that well. She doesn't cry anymore when either Adam or I leaves. Go figure!
Diaper changes. She hates them, even if she's toting around poop logs as heavy as cannonballs.
Getting her teeth brushed. This is probably her least favorite, most hated activity in all the world. I tried to make it fun. We laughed, we danced, we even sang during the process, but she just wouldn't open her mouth. So now, I've scarred her for life by pinning her down on the bed every night while I attack with the baby toothbrush. It's a painful process as she screams and cries (and sometimes bites me) as I navigate the brush through her little mouth. But, it's worth it to me to get those chompers cleaned at the expense of her happiness; I know of mothers whose children's teeth have rotted and I SO DON'T WANT TO GO THERE. So, toothbrush...
Looking On...
Bryony is growing and thriving and we are so deliriously happy to have her in our lives. Adam and I remind each other every day how lucky we are that she came into our lives. I am constantly amazed by her beauty, and remind myself not to focus on her outward appearance but to reinforce in her the internal beauty she radiates out to us all. Bryony is playful and sly and sarcastic and generous and kind and everything I want from a child of mine. All I can hope is that I am the kind of mother than she wants to have. And, I look forward to seeing what the next chapter in her life unfolds.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
As If I Need One
One reason I really love my husband is because, like me, he adds water to the near-empty can of tomato sauce to get out the last little bit that is going into the pot. He also has no shame in asking for a doggie bag (and calling it that instead of a "to-go" box, especially since some of our food scraps really do go to the dog). He's frugal and I love him for it.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
One Last Thought
I just had to sneak this last thought in for the day.
I am totally crushing on Jeffrey Donovan of "Burn Notice." I seriously don't know what it is about him, but I am hooked.
Yummy.
Okay, I've said it. Now, good night.
I am totally crushing on Jeffrey Donovan of "Burn Notice." I seriously don't know what it is about him, but I am hooked.
Yummy.
Okay, I've said it. Now, good night.
Brand New Key
This is probably the favorite commercial in our household right now. Adam likes the song, I like the expression on the baby's face, and Bryony is entranced by the whole thing. Enjoy!
Heat Lamps and Monsters and Braids, Oh My!
While I realize that we're past Thanksgiving, I'll take this opportunity to still give thanks for something that I've been very grateful for of late. This would be the ceiling heat lamp in our bathroom which keeps me oh-so-very-warm when I get out of the shower. It has gotten cold here in Texas. Not Michigan cold, grant you, but a I-didn't-bring-warm-enough-clothes-for-this-cold-weather cold, which has led to me layering several items of mismatched clothing on Bryony and me (yeah, I didn't bring enough winter clothes for her, either), making us look like characters from a Dr. Seuss book. But back to the heat lamp...Oh how I love you so as you heat my just-showered body. If it were possible, heat lamp, I'd take you out to dinner.
I've been battling a cold for the last couple days. Yesterday seemed to be the worst of it, as "Terrible Monster Mommy" attacked the household. Poor Bryony just couldn't do anything right, including standing precariously on the arm of the couch, picking up the kitten by little handfuls of fur, throwing food, playing with glass bowls in the kitchen, and joyfully tearing pages in books. Yes, because on a normal day, all of those things would be just fine. But I just couldn't deal with it yesterday, and Adam, who had promised to leave work early that afternoon, still wasn't home by 7pm. I had to call him and tell him to come home, STAT. I was on the verge of locking my congested self in my bedroom and allowing bedlam free reign over the rest of the apartment. Poor Husband asked if I needed anything from the store and I specifically asked for Benadryl, which I know I can take while breastfeeding. Poor Husband came home with Advil which is not...even...close. I steadied my voice and said, "Hon, this isn't going to work for me...I asked for Benadryl, not Advil. I need a decongestant not a pain reliever, and besides I don't know if I can take ibuprofen while nursing." Poor Husband ran back out to the store and got the proper drug and a can of ginger ale. Terrible Monster Mommy didn't give him the thanks he deserved as she slurped down the pills with her ale. Instead, she just threw her hands in the air and declared she had nothing more to give to anybody that evening, and Poor Husband put baby to bed. Not even an hour later, with congestant symtoms showing no signs of clearing up, Terrible Monster Mommy popped two MORE pills and had a very fitful, non-congested night of sleep (and no, I am most certainly NOT advocating for overdosing on Benadryl, folks).
This morning began with Awful Mommy Being (scaled down version of Terrible Monster Mommy) lying in bed while Poor Husband got ready for work and watched baby zoom around the apartment. Awful Mommy Being sat bolt upright at the sound of glass breaking, which turned out to be a coffee mug baby had picked up and dropped out on the patio. Awful Mommy Being needed more sleep and decided not to care about said coffee mug until later.
But, I'm feeling much better this afternoon and moving into Sniffling Zen Mama as I am much more introspective now about things. While yesterday I vegged on the couch watching cheesy-but--fun movies from the 90s, today I've already cleaned the apartment, showered and now I am blogging. Oh, and I'm also pleased with my new sick-girl hair style: a braid down my neck. Nothing says sick-stay-at-home-mama like a sloppy little braid. Sad thing is, that sloppy little braid is even more effort than I would have gone to if I'd been well.
I've been battling a cold for the last couple days. Yesterday seemed to be the worst of it, as "Terrible Monster Mommy" attacked the household. Poor Bryony just couldn't do anything right, including standing precariously on the arm of the couch, picking up the kitten by little handfuls of fur, throwing food, playing with glass bowls in the kitchen, and joyfully tearing pages in books. Yes, because on a normal day, all of those things would be just fine. But I just couldn't deal with it yesterday, and Adam, who had promised to leave work early that afternoon, still wasn't home by 7pm. I had to call him and tell him to come home, STAT. I was on the verge of locking my congested self in my bedroom and allowing bedlam free reign over the rest of the apartment. Poor Husband asked if I needed anything from the store and I specifically asked for Benadryl, which I know I can take while breastfeeding. Poor Husband came home with Advil which is not...even...close. I steadied my voice and said, "Hon, this isn't going to work for me...I asked for Benadryl, not Advil. I need a decongestant not a pain reliever, and besides I don't know if I can take ibuprofen while nursing." Poor Husband ran back out to the store and got the proper drug and a can of ginger ale. Terrible Monster Mommy didn't give him the thanks he deserved as she slurped down the pills with her ale. Instead, she just threw her hands in the air and declared she had nothing more to give to anybody that evening, and Poor Husband put baby to bed. Not even an hour later, with congestant symtoms showing no signs of clearing up, Terrible Monster Mommy popped two MORE pills and had a very fitful, non-congested night of sleep (and no, I am most certainly NOT advocating for overdosing on Benadryl, folks).
This morning began with Awful Mommy Being (scaled down version of Terrible Monster Mommy) lying in bed while Poor Husband got ready for work and watched baby zoom around the apartment. Awful Mommy Being sat bolt upright at the sound of glass breaking, which turned out to be a coffee mug baby had picked up and dropped out on the patio. Awful Mommy Being needed more sleep and decided not to care about said coffee mug until later.
But, I'm feeling much better this afternoon and moving into Sniffling Zen Mama as I am much more introspective now about things. While yesterday I vegged on the couch watching cheesy-but--fun movies from the 90s, today I've already cleaned the apartment, showered and now I am blogging. Oh, and I'm also pleased with my new sick-girl hair style: a braid down my neck. Nothing says sick-stay-at-home-mama like a sloppy little braid. Sad thing is, that sloppy little braid is even more effort than I would have gone to if I'd been well.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Wanted: BFF
Sarah has Susan.
Adria has Freedom.
Daniela has Vycki.
Heather has Lily.
Emily has Kristin.
Tracy has Heather.
Michelle has Erin.
Kara has Jeanne.
Lauren has...everyone, and no one all at the same time.
For a few years now, I've become very aware of the fact that I don't have a best friend. I have loads of great friends, some very close, some more casual. But, they all have their own best friends from childhood or college, women they can say anything to (at any time of the day or night) and expect brutal honesty and complete and utter sympathy and love all at the same time.
I miss that.
Don't get me wrong, I know that the wonderful, special women in my life love me as much as I love them. I know that they are there for me in a minute if I have an emergency, or need to vent or just cry a bit. But, I guess I am guilty of getting caught up in the false sentiment in every Hallmark commercial that portrays two women, miles away from each other, on the phone every night and friends to the end. I have wonderful friends, I do. But each of these amazing women has another woman that they feel connected and bonded to in a way that I'm not bonded to any of them. I wonder what it is about me that lacks this potential for connection. I feel a bit like I'm a rare atom that other atoms like to hang around with, but no one wants to become a molecule with me. What's wrong with MY electrons??
I sometimes wonder if there's a girlfriend out there who does consider me her "bestie" and I just don't know it. Don't best friends say those types of things to each other so that each party knows their status? All of the above-named women can immediately identify her best friend at the drop of a hat. The fact that I can't is because none of my female friends and I have ever discussed our relationship in these terms. I should mention that this post is not intended to guilt anyone to saying that they consider me their BFF just to make me feel good; however, if you actually DO feel that way about me, and I just don't realize it, please feel free to drop me a note.
Do I sound like an utter and complete loser here???
I guess I should acknowledge that my little sis and I have also been close over the years, almost like a "default" setting on your computer preferences. I cherish and love that relationship more than I can describe. But outside of my sisterhood, I imagine a friendship so strong and natural that this woman feels like a second sister to me. I don't know why I crave it, but I do.
But if that relationship never comes, I remain content with the knowledge that I have a beautiful fabric of complex and wonderful women who keep my heart and soul warm and happy. Thank you, sisters.
Adria has Freedom.
Daniela has Vycki.
Heather has Lily.
Emily has Kristin.
Tracy has Heather.
Michelle has Erin.
Kara has Jeanne.
Lauren has...everyone, and no one all at the same time.
For a few years now, I've become very aware of the fact that I don't have a best friend. I have loads of great friends, some very close, some more casual. But, they all have their own best friends from childhood or college, women they can say anything to (at any time of the day or night) and expect brutal honesty and complete and utter sympathy and love all at the same time.
I miss that.
Don't get me wrong, I know that the wonderful, special women in my life love me as much as I love them. I know that they are there for me in a minute if I have an emergency, or need to vent or just cry a bit. But, I guess I am guilty of getting caught up in the false sentiment in every Hallmark commercial that portrays two women, miles away from each other, on the phone every night and friends to the end. I have wonderful friends, I do. But each of these amazing women has another woman that they feel connected and bonded to in a way that I'm not bonded to any of them. I wonder what it is about me that lacks this potential for connection. I feel a bit like I'm a rare atom that other atoms like to hang around with, but no one wants to become a molecule with me. What's wrong with MY electrons??
I sometimes wonder if there's a girlfriend out there who does consider me her "bestie" and I just don't know it. Don't best friends say those types of things to each other so that each party knows their status? All of the above-named women can immediately identify her best friend at the drop of a hat. The fact that I can't is because none of my female friends and I have ever discussed our relationship in these terms. I should mention that this post is not intended to guilt anyone to saying that they consider me their BFF just to make me feel good; however, if you actually DO feel that way about me, and I just don't realize it, please feel free to drop me a note.
Do I sound like an utter and complete loser here???
I guess I should acknowledge that my little sis and I have also been close over the years, almost like a "default" setting on your computer preferences. I cherish and love that relationship more than I can describe. But outside of my sisterhood, I imagine a friendship so strong and natural that this woman feels like a second sister to me. I don't know why I crave it, but I do.
But if that relationship never comes, I remain content with the knowledge that I have a beautiful fabric of complex and wonderful women who keep my heart and soul warm and happy. Thank you, sisters.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Happy Channukah...Everyone
I really don't have much of interest to type tonight (I have a few topics but I just don't feel like writing it all out just now...maybe tomorrow). So, in the absence of an (semi-) intelligent diatribe, I'll just say on this second night of the Festival of Lights,
HAPPY CHANNUKAH, EVERYONE!!!
We just lit the menorah and expressed our thankfulness for Kika's continued presence in our lives and for the little bundle of joy-zaniness-heartache-love we call Bryony.
G'night all.
HAPPY CHANNUKAH, EVERYONE!!!
We just lit the menorah and expressed our thankfulness for Kika's continued presence in our lives and for the little bundle of joy-zaniness-heartache-love we call Bryony.
G'night all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)