Monthly Archives: March 2012

More Moments to Remember

Today I found myself looking eye to (sideways) eye with my daughter and physically seeing these sweet moments slipping away. I say sideways eye because sometimes she won’t look you directly in the eye. Even when she knows that you’re looking at her. When that happens, I’ll turn my face to the side but keep my eyes on her and say “Look at Mama!” and when she sees that my face is turned will she look at me, only to discover that (surprise!) mama’s still looking at her.

While laying on my chest, she will reach up and place her small palm on (or in) my mouth, silencing whatever was being said… which was most likely, “Mama’s gonna kiss you!” because I literally cannot not kiss those cheeks every time I pick her up. I think I might be addicted.

Those are just some of the moments… I can’t capture them all with the camera. But I try. And here’s some that have been.

1. Deciding that toe jam will be her first solid food. Apparently it’s only when she is toe-knuckle deep that she stares me dead on.

2. The odd napping contortions. Sometimes, they take my breath away and check to make sure she’s breathing. After being reassured, I usually wonder if she’ll end up in a circus side show and daydream about her act and her character’s name.

3. Enduring the first ear infection together at exactly six months. She was mostly fired up and screaming. It was only while nursing that I saw how weak and tired she was. I never want to feel her weak nursing again. I cried several times.

4. Watching her watch Baby Einstein. The intensity. I hope she’ll put that to good use. Like, towards her circus sideshow act.

5. Noticing that her rolly polly thighs completely distract the eye from her mismatched socks.

6. Taking afternoon naps together and boy do we have the position down. My right leg is bent up pinning her high on my chest, her left arm is hanging down along the back of the couch (and occasionally, until she falls asleep, she will massage that side of my stomach), my right arm creates a crook for her lay her body and head, and, finally, my nose and mouth positioned right above her head to alternately breath in her Ruthie-smell and kiss her forehead. This is what I’ll miss the most.

7. Seeing her lips go plump and loose during her most rested state.

8. When not sleeping on my chest, holding her hand until she falls asleep. This one little act does more to calm her down than anything else at the moment.

9. And last, but not least, her already realizing that I’m the coolest person in the world.

…or not.

Today I felt very melancholy for some reason. Maybe it had to do with a sad episode of Little House on the Prairie series I’m currently watching, I’m not sure. But she can cheer me up anytime I’m needing it. I love her so.

Familia Picnic

It’s been a busy couple weeks, but let me catch you up in one area:

My sister and her family’s visit to The Shack. It was their kids’ Spring Break and the rest of the kids in their classes were off to beaches or other exotic places. I wish I were a fly on the wall when E told her classmates that she traipsed across the midwest to stay at a mobile home in Arkansas.

She’s still too young to leave out specific details like that.

So, what to do?


How about a picnic? The weather in early March was beautiful.

I threw some blankets and pillows down, set  up an unused door as the table, and then got to work…

…but not without helpers.

The menu was extremely fancy: Peanut Butter & Nutella sandwiches, apples, popcorn, and trail mix.

Pretty sure E’s friends were eating the same delicacies.

Well, we tried though, making them special by wrapping them in wax paper & ribbon.

Others were relaxing while we put on the finishing touches.


The table was set.



Entertainment in the form of poetry was performed.


But that’s not all we did, even though I would’ve been happy with laying around in the sun.

The night they arrived, I mentioned to the kids that I had an activity for them to do. They immediately decided we were going to milk a cow.

And I immediately decided to never let a kid guess what we’re going to do again. I suggested they lower their standards a teeny bit and guess again, but they were determined to milk that cow.

Sigh.

So I waited until the last possible second to tell them we were only going on a mini-scavenger hunt around The Shack’s back roads.

Before doing so, I pulled ten year old W to the side and assured him that I knew this was too young of a game for him, but to just play along.

Actually, R asked me to do that.

He said that W would appreciate the nod towards his emerging maturity, even if it were something he would have liked anyway. And heck if I know what a young boy likes, so I followed R’s instructions to a T.

Halfway through the hunt, we stopped to take photos with our neighbors. They’re the only neighbors that wave at us. Usually it’s just to flick flies away with their tail, but we’ll take what we can get.

After the hunt, newspapers were read…


…the adults stayed up late around the chiminea after the kids went to bed, chit-chatted over a couple bottles of wine, and laughed at past dates gone wrong. I could share the story of my sister getting her legs hooked into a bar stool and falling over in the middle of one, but I don’t want to embarrass her.

It did make me double over and cry, though.


Then Woody Allen was read some stories.

Wait, that’s Ruth.

Oh well, I do like his movies even though he’s weird.


…and even more lounging was done before they left. It was quick trip and went by even quicker once they arrived. But it was a lot of fun. I do enjoy a slumber party.

And I highly doubt any of E’s friends discussed how cow chips were used on the Oregon trail.

But that’s okay. I’m proud of those cow chips.

And regular chips too.

Now I’m hungry and about to make my own scavenger hunt… in the fridge for food.

What else is new.

Socialite

Not. But for a second this anti-social girl was getting into the swing of things. Like, having face-to-face conversations with multiple people within a short span of time. It was weird, like I had friends or something.

Like S. Who was one half of the duo during our Emily Post, “Can I offer you a cigarette after the salad course”, test. She passed. She would’ve passed even if she’d declined too, but got extra points for being a good sport. You can read about it here. 

Ruth and I met up for lunch at the darn near cutest little restaurant. Heirloom is its name, great food is its game. They try to use as much local organic food as possible. That, along with bread baked in a flowerpot, water in the cutest carafe, and the nicest owners around, it made for a memorable lunch.

Wanna know what else was memorable? Trying to nurse Ruthie in front of a guy at the picture window while holding down the jacket/nursing cover in 300 mph wind. Yeah, that was awesome. I’m sure he got a show.

But, being handed a travel guide by the owner that dear S created made up for it. I told her she should autograph it and give it back to the owner.  That will be worth money one day!

My other favorite part was admiring their vintage mid-50s home with pretty much everything still in tact.

The little stove stole my heart. But then Ruthie threw up on their kitchen floor and it was time to go. We know how to make an exit.

We also had some family over where we watched about 3 million youtube videos trying to find the scandal on The Wizard of Oz set, along with finding compilations of other scandalous images in various Disney movies. I was already biased against Beauty and the Beast to begin with, but these other clips just helped me spread that gag reflex to the other ones.

No, instead I’ll have her watch something more wholesome. Like, The Real Housewives.

I have a love affair with Fridays. They’re my go-to day for inviting people over. You can stay up late, sleep in the next day and still have the rest of your weekend. It’s amazing.

We’ve been lucky with most of our dates, in that we end the night eager to set up a second one to hang out. Other couples, well one in particular, decide that in order to avoid going out with us again, they need to move. Like, to Florida. Like, in two weeks after said dinner. Hopefully it wasn’t because I served our food on old-school cafeteria plates, because I consider these my china. It doesn’t matter the reason, because whether they want us to or not, we’re going to be popping up in sunny FL for a beach date.

One couple, however, I was extremely nervous about meeting. “Meeting” because we never actually met in person. Long story short, J is a blogger at Hotchabyrd, and we have a mutual friend. The friend suggested she read my blog. So she read it, left a few comments that made me laugh hard gut laughs, and then we slowly worked up the courage to set a date.  As we live in the same town, it shouldn’t have been a big deal, right?

Wrong. I was terrified. This girl is funny. Real funny. And funny people make me nervous.

So we agreed on a sushi night with my native american sushi dishes (wrap that one around your brain) and vintage sake cups.

They were my only source of solitude throughout the process, those cups. Well, if I act like a dork, and she is appalled, at least I have my sake cups was my mantra throughout the day leading up.

When they arrived, her husband gave me a big hug. This gave me the courage to attack his wife as she walked through the door. I poured us some sake, we cried as it burned down our throats, and then began talking.

And talking.

And talking.

In fact, the conversation lasted for 6 hours straight. Not bad for a first double date.

We hit on some of her “Things to talk about in case it gets awkward” list (even though it didn’t get awkward). My personal favorite, “Enjoying being AWAY from other people.” I don’t think we discussed that one. But now I wonder how it would’ve been brought up if that was her last ditch effort for a topic.

[In the middle of complete silence] So, don’t you just hate being AWAY from other people?

[pause] Yes. Please go.

I mean, how do you respond to that?

Anyway, we did some of our talking on the deck.

Her husband riffed gently on the guitar as we warmed our feet by the fire. It’s why I want R to learn the guitar, if only for that background music.

I even felt comfortable enough to do my “Take a photo of me while I act like I don’t know what you’re doing so I can prove that I indeed exist” stance.

That one is crucial to me. If I can act my unnatural natural self around you, you’re in.

And they were. Totally in.

All I know is that by the end of the night, J broke out house shoes she brought in case she felt comfortable, we’d planned a weekend trip, I shared the most random of random personal stories usually reserved for date #250, R fell backwards in a chair and got stuck in the corner, D serenaded us with his musical talents, and we all agreed that a good time was had.

[raising a glass] Here’s to blogs and their aid in making new friends.

Just don’t drink sake with that toast. It’ll burn.