Just because Veena so rarely gives me crap, and she is currently giving me crap about not updating this blog, I am here, updating. See Veena? Blogging while you drive. Shut. It.
We just visited a great small private school to see if we could imagine our boys there. I think we both can. I have that excited feeling you get when you find something that fits your own values so completely. It's a relief, but it's also a private school and that is hard for me to reconcile with my public school upbringing.
I'll tell Keith to visit and he can decide (*snicker*)
Friday, March 13, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Applesauce?
Keith's stream of consciousness while watching E.T. on this rainy morning:
"I like how E.T. takes the pot of flowers back to his home planet. He's probably going to start some ecological disaster. You know, the thing that bothers me about this movie? I'm sorry, but if I saw that thing in my garage I wouldn't be leaving it Reeses Pieces. I'd probably completely lose my sh*t, pull out a bat and whack it to applesauce."
Owen looks up at him and says, "Applesauce? Please?"
"I like how E.T. takes the pot of flowers back to his home planet. He's probably going to start some ecological disaster. You know, the thing that bothers me about this movie? I'm sorry, but if I saw that thing in my garage I wouldn't be leaving it Reeses Pieces. I'd probably completely lose my sh*t, pull out a bat and whack it to applesauce."
Owen looks up at him and says, "Applesauce? Please?"
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
toots
Owen now thinks farts are funny. He tells us whenever he farts, saying, "a toot!" and pointing to his bottom. Milestone, we are here!
Friday, January 30, 2009
mixup
Owen loves the song "I like Yaks" (sorry, I'm feeling too lazy to get up and find the artist but it's an awesome song I actually referenced in a blog post almost a year ago). At dinner tonight we were playing music from Keith's iTunes (in our "house", the dining room doubles as the computer room). After the Yak song finished, Owen said "More yak?" so Keith went to the computer to choose the song again. However, when the song started we quickly realized it wasn't "I like Yaks" but rather Bikini Kill's "I love f&*king". Nice.
Turns out they do learn something from TV
For awhile Owen has been mesmerized with this one skit on Sesame Street that has Elmo singing and dancing with an R&B singer in a songs about signs in the neighborhood.
I actually love this skit, which is good because when it is done Owen usually asks me to replay it at least two more times. Having said that, the skit also cracks me up. I don't know who the R&B singer is, but he is a glorious example of R&B style, wearing matching yellow and green everything. Hat, shoes, clothing, even shoelaces - all coordinated. He looks like he's headed to Oakland A's mascot tryouts.
On top of this, he looks quasi-gangster, so the first time I heard him start singing in a soft falsetto I did a double-take and laughed out loud at the TV. It had not been what I was expecting.
But the song is catchy, and invariably ends up reeling through my head much of the time. It talks about different signs in the neighborhood, like "Stop" "Open", "school", and "zoo". So on the way to Starbucks this morning, and perched atop Daddy's shoulders, Owen pointed to the grocery store and said "Market!". We don't use the term market since we are both under 85, so we realized he must have learned that word from Elmo and the Oakland A's mascot. Turns out they can learn from TV!
I actually love this skit, which is good because when it is done Owen usually asks me to replay it at least two more times. Having said that, the skit also cracks me up. I don't know who the R&B singer is, but he is a glorious example of R&B style, wearing matching yellow and green everything. Hat, shoes, clothing, even shoelaces - all coordinated. He looks like he's headed to Oakland A's mascot tryouts.
On top of this, he looks quasi-gangster, so the first time I heard him start singing in a soft falsetto I did a double-take and laughed out loud at the TV. It had not been what I was expecting.
But the song is catchy, and invariably ends up reeling through my head much of the time. It talks about different signs in the neighborhood, like "Stop" "Open", "school", and "zoo". So on the way to Starbucks this morning, and perched atop Daddy's shoulders, Owen pointed to the grocery store and said "Market!". We don't use the term market since we are both under 85, so we realized he must have learned that word from Elmo and the Oakland A's mascot. Turns out they can learn from TV!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Stone
We met Unc, Sharon, and Amy at Stone Brewery last night for dinner. They'd never been there, and the architecture is great, as are the beers of course, and the food is good as well.
Owen was being adorable, charming the pants off everyone around us, watching the fish in the indoor koi pond. We went to play outside for a bit and I noticed a group of twentysomethings at my favorite outdoor table.
This table is set aside from other tables and is covered by a trellace with flowering hops growing around, making the area secluded into a lush green cave. The table seats 8, and is a simple rustic wooden rectangular table. We get this table often, in our bigger groups, and I end up picture something off a Gourmet magazine cover when we dine there.
I watched the group there and a thought hit me quickly: I will never be at the phase in life again where they are now. I envied them completely for a few moments, remembering the late nights out, the flirting, joking, drinking, sharing of secrets. The magic of being in my twenties.
I still maintain that I prefer being thirtysomething. I prefer the perspective, calm, stability, lasting relationships, and comfort of this phase. But I had a blast in my 20s, and am glad things were often a little too dramatic, crazy, fun. I haven't missed out on anything, at least. So, I can't help but miss it for a few moments here and there.
Owen was being adorable, charming the pants off everyone around us, watching the fish in the indoor koi pond. We went to play outside for a bit and I noticed a group of twentysomethings at my favorite outdoor table.
This table is set aside from other tables and is covered by a trellace with flowering hops growing around, making the area secluded into a lush green cave. The table seats 8, and is a simple rustic wooden rectangular table. We get this table often, in our bigger groups, and I end up picture something off a Gourmet magazine cover when we dine there.
I watched the group there and a thought hit me quickly: I will never be at the phase in life again where they are now. I envied them completely for a few moments, remembering the late nights out, the flirting, joking, drinking, sharing of secrets. The magic of being in my twenties.
I still maintain that I prefer being thirtysomething. I prefer the perspective, calm, stability, lasting relationships, and comfort of this phase. But I had a blast in my 20s, and am glad things were often a little too dramatic, crazy, fun. I haven't missed out on anything, at least. So, I can't help but miss it for a few moments here and there.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Owen's Birth Story Part 1: The First Labor
I figured with Owen's second birthday looming, now was as good a time any to write his birth story. Yes, that's right, his birth story. I figured it will change over time; perhaps after a few tellings I will break the hospital bed headboard with my bare hands, or Owen will come out with a giant head for the record books. Actually, the latter situation may not be too far from reality. In any case, writing down as much as I can remember is probably a good Mommy Exercise.
I loved being pregnant. The pregnancy was mostly easy. A bit of morning sickness, a heaping dose of pregnancy paranoia, and a few dashes of shit from my OB about having gained two womens' worth of pregnancy weight gets us up to my 34th week.
Anyone who has met me knows that I am not...delicate. My sister's preterm labors, while upsetting and stressful in each case, were not altogether surprising considering how petite her frame is. But I would never in a million years have believed that my Amazonian frame would go into labor anywhere close to 34 weeks. I tower over the average woman, and can carry my weight equivalent easily on my head. Ok that last part isn't true, but you get the point. Preterm labor wasn't expected. Even now, when I mention this to well-meaning and often normally-tactful friends they inadvertently glance at my ample birthing hips and ask, "What was that about, do you think...?" I shrug and say, "I guess it's just something my body did."
I loved being pregnant. The pregnancy was mostly easy. A bit of morning sickness, a heaping dose of pregnancy paranoia, and a few dashes of shit from my OB about having gained two womens' worth of pregnancy weight gets us up to my 34th week.
Anyone who has met me knows that I am not...delicate. My sister's preterm labors, while upsetting and stressful in each case, were not altogether surprising considering how petite her frame is. But I would never in a million years have believed that my Amazonian frame would go into labor anywhere close to 34 weeks. I tower over the average woman, and can carry my weight equivalent easily on my head. Ok that last part isn't true, but you get the point. Preterm labor wasn't expected. Even now, when I mention this to well-meaning and often normally-tactful friends they inadvertently glance at my ample birthing hips and ask, "What was that about, do you think...?" I shrug and say, "I guess it's just something my body did."
Because, truly, when you're pregnant, you are no longer captain of your own ship. Whether it's the insatiable need to eat Cap'n Crunch for all 9 meals of the day, or whether it's gaining 46 pounds with a first pregnancy, your body will figure out how to be pregnant without any input from you, thank you very much.
So, in that spirit of complete powerlessness, I gave up and called my OBs office when, at 34 weeks, I was actually experiencing strong, regular cramping. Jackie, my nurse, told me to head to L&D for monitoring - do not stop to get ice cream. It was February 28th, 2007. Owen's due date was April 14th, 2007. I packed up my office, not knowing I wouldn't set fot at work again for months.
I figured it was all Braxton-Hicks, or, more likely, all in my head. But after several hours at the hospital, a few bolus shots of meds to stop the contactions, and some entertaining moments watching our nurse try to learn a new computer system, we were sent home with some prescriptions and strict orders to stay in bed. All the time. For at least three weeks.
I still didn't really believe it was true. I knew my OB was considered "conservative" in this respect, so figured she was overreacting. Much like the night Eddie, Keith, and I were held at gunpoint by a rookie and very mistaken cop, I figured I understood the situation better than the expert. But my husband was firm: bedrest.
A couple panicked calls to my boss later, an uncomfortable drive (sitting was the worst), and we were home, settling me into my new nest.
I'll skip the details about the upcoming weekend being the one I'd planned to do the baby's room, or the fact that I could not help from watching the Baby 911 shows about scary labor and deliveries where sometimes the baby actually didn't turn out great. I was a terrible patient: bored, restless, grumpy; sneaking out almost daily to buy baby things at Target. It's a miracle I made it to 37 weeks.
So, in that spirit of complete powerlessness, I gave up and called my OBs office when, at 34 weeks, I was actually experiencing strong, regular cramping. Jackie, my nurse, told me to head to L&D for monitoring - do not stop to get ice cream. It was February 28th, 2007. Owen's due date was April 14th, 2007. I packed up my office, not knowing I wouldn't set fot at work again for months.
I figured it was all Braxton-Hicks, or, more likely, all in my head. But after several hours at the hospital, a few bolus shots of meds to stop the contactions, and some entertaining moments watching our nurse try to learn a new computer system, we were sent home with some prescriptions and strict orders to stay in bed. All the time. For at least three weeks.
I still didn't really believe it was true. I knew my OB was considered "conservative" in this respect, so figured she was overreacting. Much like the night Eddie, Keith, and I were held at gunpoint by a rookie and very mistaken cop, I figured I understood the situation better than the expert. But my husband was firm: bedrest.
A couple panicked calls to my boss later, an uncomfortable drive (sitting was the worst), and we were home, settling me into my new nest.
I'll skip the details about the upcoming weekend being the one I'd planned to do the baby's room, or the fact that I could not help from watching the Baby 911 shows about scary labor and deliveries where sometimes the baby actually didn't turn out great. I was a terrible patient: bored, restless, grumpy; sneaking out almost daily to buy baby things at Target. It's a miracle I made it to 37 weeks.
Coming up: dancing the baby out...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
