Twenty-Something

letter to lawton

2012-01-11T12:39:00.000-08:00

Dear Lawton,

First of all, thank you for overlapping your nap with your sister today allowing me time to even consider writing a blog entry. Much appreciated, bubs.

The past four months have been such a whirlwind around here adjusting to adding you into our little house and into our lives. For the most part you have been quite cooperative and I feel like we have yet again won the baby lottery. Both you and your sister have been champion sleepers starting at around 3 months and I could not be more grateful for that. It's amazing how much more confident and HUMAN I feel on a solid night's sleep (although we do need to discuss this recent 5:30am wake time you've started trying out...). We kept you in our room for longer than we did with her (mostly since your bedrooms are so close together) and you slep in your bouncy seat for a while once we moved you to your nursery, but you have now adjusted nicely to sleeping in your crib every night and even for some of your naps!

You're a much better eater than Laine was, which you proved by weighing in the 90th percentile at your 2 month check up. You were back down to the 50th at your 4 month appointment but seem determine to make up the loss with a growth spurt this week which has you wanting to eat close to every 2 and a half hours again. I'll take the trade if you keep sleeping 10-12 hours a night! I'm confident that we will be able to stick with nursing exclusively this time, which is very exciting for me and your daddy (and our wallets... formula ain't cheap, buddy boy!).

You just started trying out Laine's old jumper and your new johnny jump-up that hangs in the doorway and you seem to love the new perspective. You're strong and independent already and love being able to be in on the action with your big sister in a whole new way. Speaking of which, you ADORE your sister already (and the feeling seems to be mutual so far). If you're having a fit, she can instantly calm you. If you're playing near her on the floor, your eyes are glued on her. I think she even got your first official smile! There is nothing I love more than watching the two of you together and I can't wait to see your relationship grow.

Your other new favorite thing is screaming. LOUDLY. You scream when you're happy, sad, tired, frustrated, amused, excited, you name it. It is your new vocalization of choice. Most of the time it's pretty funny, but every now and then Laine and I BOTH are asking you to knock it off! Laine reminds you often of the "no screaming in the house" rule, but you don't seem willing to play along.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm relieved to be moving out of the newborn phase into infancy. I love watching new expressions grace your sweet little face and hearing new sounds (minus the screaming) escape your mouth. I love watching you start to notice and explore your surroundings, grabbing onto toys, chewing on everything you can get your hands on, and even rolling over for the first time yesterday! I also love seeing the many ways you have changed our little family: I enjoy watching your daddy with a new little baby- his first SON!- and seeing Laine grow into such a special, helpful big sister. And most of all, I am just so glad to be your mommy. You are and will always be my little handsome man.

I love you very much,
Mommy

gc365

2011-12-20T11:53:00.000-08:00

Hey family, friends, followers, infrequent readers, and stumbled-upon-by-accident-ers! In honor of the fast-approaching end of the year I have done some thinking about what I wanted my resolution(s) to be for 2012. I have already gotten halfway through the Ease Into 5K program, registered for a 5K at the end of January, AND am trying to consistently maintain a food diary with MyFitnessPal, so I felt that any kind of health and fitness related goal would be a little redundant (although of course maintenance will be key in 2012). So I started thinking of other projects I would like to undertake and LO, unto me a new blog project was born! And I laid it in a tumblr, wrapped it in a fancy template, and called it gc365. My goal is to document my daily life through photos, one a day for at least a year. A lot of people have done this "project 365" and had albums on facebook, but posting to Tumblr directly from my iPhone (yeah, I'm super fancy, y'all) is really ridiculously easy and I am all about simplicity when it comes to sticking with something. SO. I'll still be posting here as regularly as I can manage, but feel free to follow along with me on my photo journey as well... and prepare yourself for gratuitous cute kiddo photography, probably via Instagram. What can I say, they rock a filtered photo.

adventures of bubba and the bug

2011-12-19T12:19:00.000-08:00

(A beginning draft of a children's book I've been ruminating on...)

One day (probably a Wednesday), Bubba and the Bug set out on a grand adventure.

Now in most books about grand adventures, you begin with an "unlikely pair". But Bubba and the Bug are about as likely as they come because, you see, they are brother and sister.

Bug is the fearless leader of the two, a singer, dancer, painter, lover of pink and voice of many a stuffed bear.

She's mostly the fearless leader because Bubba is a baby.

Most grand adventures also involve a great deal of complicated traveling, but Bubba and the Bug had nap times to consider, so for this grand Wednesday, travel was limited to wherever Fancy Car might take them In Town.

The Bug surveyed the land from her Special Seat and announced to Bubba that the adventures of the day would begin with errands.

But both were disappointed about the decidedly non-adventure-y feeling of errand running.

(What should Bubba and the Bug do next? What do you think?)

letter to my (TWO YEAR OLD) girl

2011-11-18T11:27:00.000-08:00

Laine,

Today I was folding and sorting some of Lawton's laundry, pulling out the newborn onesies and sleepers that are now too small. As I placed them in their own little pile to be relegated to the attic I had to stop and catch my breath for a moment thinking of you, my big, beautiful, smart and sassy little girl, fitting into those same newborn onesies only two years ago. Only two years and yet... two whole years! I think only a parent can understand how a length of time can seem so long and so distant and yet have flown by. I remember so clearly the doctor's appointment when I learned you existed, then standing on the balcony of our tiny one bedroom apartment going through my contact list to let everyone know I was PREGNANT (oh the joy and the terror and the triumph and the anticipation and the anxiety and the excitement wrapped into those eight letters). And then 39 long/short weeks later, laboring for so long in the hospital and finding out you were a girl (!!!). I remember bringing you home (to a TWO bedroom apartment), watching you grow, filled with anxiety and wonder and pride, moving you into our first home as a family, seeing you learn to crawl, start to speak, take your first steps...and all of this was just in one year. And now you're two.

In your second year I found out I was pregnant again in January and had your brother on September 1st (it's been quite a year for both of us, sweetpea). You went from being my only child to being my first. And you became a big sister. If I was proud of you before, I don't know the word to describe the swell of emotions I feel as I watch you with your brother. Whenever people hear how close in age you two are they always ask me how you're doing... if you're gentle with the baby, if you're a good helper, how you've handled the changes. My response is always the same: you're a rock star.

Being a big sister is not the only thing at which you are excelling (and blowing Mommy's mind with). Holy smokes, girl, are you SMART. Your vocabulary has skyrocketed and your diction is truly impressive. Even your pediatrician looked at me across the exam table with raised eyebrows when you started talking to him. You speak in full sentences, connecting thoughts in way that sometimes surprises me. (When I got pulled over on our way home from Augusta - NOT for speeding... apparently I didn't slow down enough when passing a police car - you were entranced by the police officer ("the man" as you referred to him) and asked if he was "like Robert", a police horse in a book we hadn't read in weeks.) You're funny, precocious, flirty (btw, you may want to back off of Travis a little... aunt Chelsea might be getting a little jealous), stubborn, and sweet. You love to sing and have really remarkable pitch for a 2 year old. You take that "dance like no one is watching" quote very literally. You devour books like candy (which you will also devour... like... itself) and have many of your favorites memorized. You still sleep like an angel and eat like a champ. You are learning so much so fast about being kind and sharing and taking turns... not that you always do it, because you are a willful and spunky little goober sometimes and certainly know how to have a fit with the best of them. But basically what I'm getting at here is that I could not have asked for a more remarkable child.

Darling daughter, I just plain adore you. You are beautiful to me and I can assure you that you always will be. I am so happy to have added your brother to our family, doubling our number of children but exponentially increasing our joy, but you will always be my special girl, the one that shares my middle name, my first baby. You light up my life, warm my heart, and fill my soul. I am so grateful to be your mother.

I love you very much.

Mommy

schlumpy

2011-11-08T13:35:00.000-08:00

Today has been one of those days in which I walked by a mirror at approximately 3pm, stopped, walked slowly backwards, and gave myself a good, long, horrified look. No make-up, no shower, no change of clothes since I rolled out of bed at 6am to answer the call of a certain Mr. Fussypants. A runny-nosed coughing toddler and a squirmy whiny baby will do that to you I suppose. Motherhood is not glamorous, that's for certain. But my oh my if it isn't rewarding... in it's own wearing-my-husband's-old-tshirt-and-yoga-pants kinda way.

PS - One of my little "rewards" turns TWO on Friday. I'm working on her birthday letter. And by "working on" I mean that I've thought about it, freaked out for a moment, and then wiped up some spit up or other bodily fluid from one child or the other. (How much longer can I use having a baby as an excuse to not get much of anything done? I've got a while, right? RIGHT?)

semi-extreme makeover: bedroom edition

2011-11-07T09:09:00.000-08:00

We moved into our first house when Laine was only about 4 months old. I spent a lot of time and energy fixing up her room (transferring wall decals tediously from her old room on wax paper then obsessing over where it should go in the new room, turning her curtains into mounted canvas wall art when they didn't fit the windows, organizing her HUGE closet) and painting the rest of the house. My mom and I matched wall colors to rugs and moved the living room chairs about 87 times and re-purposed the guest room closet into a tiny home office for Joe. But in all of that, the master bedroom kind of fell to the wayside. I found a paint color I fell in love with and my mother-in-law did a beautiful job painting the room and the attached bath, but that was about it. We inherited our bedroom set from my parents when they got new stuff a few years ago (free = awesome) and while I was so happy to not have to scrounge furniture from thrift stores and yard sales, it's not really my style. Our old bedding went into the guest room since it didn't match the new color scheme so we settled for an uncovered duvet and some new sheets.

This is a pretty accurate "before" shot, although I did do an artsy project and paint a bunch of different red, black, silver, and white "C"s and hang them over the bed. The jeans on the floor on Joe's side of the bed are also quite accurate. There's nothing wrong with the room, it just doesn't do anything for me. Yawn.

So as part of my Christmas list, I told Joe I wanted to finally do something about the room. I started looking for inspiration pictures on Pinterest and trying to pin down (HA) exactly what I wanted to change. But every room I liked had either white or black furniture and I just couldn't envision the room looking much different as long as we had this furniture. And we can't exactly afford a whole new bedroom set right now. Soooo...

We PAINTED it!

The transformation is not complete... we still have to paint the huge dresser that sits on the wall across from the bed, I think I'm going to take down the "C"s and put up a collage wall of black and white photos, I want to replace the lamps and the bedspread and my giant ugly alarm clock, move the hampers from the foot of the bed to somewhere that Joe's clothes might actually come in contact with them, put a bookshelf on the wall to the right for added storage options, etc. BUT it's a great start. We even managed to get the swirly carved thing off the headboard (and the dresser mirror) before we painted! I'm really happy with how it changes the look of the room so far and it's definitely motivated me to continue working to make the room somewhere I am proud of and enjoy being in. Here are a few more "during" photos...

The nightstands getting primed and ready! (HA... I'm on a roll today, y'all.)

Joe getting in on the action... and a glimpse of Bag-lady Laine in the background.

The mirror that attaches over the dresser with the funky swirly thing that we managed to pry off.

My nightstand, painted and dry but still needing a little TLC in the decor department.

And a Fitness magazine.

BOO!

2011-10-31T06:36:00.000-07:00

One of the best things about having kiddos is having an excuse to get crazy excited about the holidays. And to go see all the new Pixar/Disney/Muppet movies. Not that I really needed an excuse.

Anyway, Happy Halloween from my little monsters!

letter to my second-born

2011-09-27T17:30:00.001-07:00

Dear Lawton,

Let me start by telling you how lucky you are.

You have a father whose number one priority is providing for our family and whose greatest joy is seeing you and your sister grow and learn. You have the most amazing big sister; she wakes up in the morning asking where you are, spends the day bringing you pacifiers, teacups, and plastic hamburger buns, and gives you a kiss goodnight when she goes to bed. Your extended family is exactly that- an extension of our family. Days after meeting you they had already posted hundreds of pictures of you on facebook. They adore you and will support everything you do for the rest of your life. Even your dogs are awesome.

Now let me tell you how lucky I am.

Almost four weeks ago, I gave birth to you, my beautiful and healthy baby boy, weighing in at only an ounce less than your older sister. You made me a mother of "two under two". You've brought even more joy to an already joyful family and even more light into an already brilliant life. You have shown me your father and your sister in new roles that make me love them even more. You are teaching me every day about the kind of mother I want to be and the kind of mother I am capable of being.

I miss nights of continuous sleep and days of guaranteed showers. I could do without getting spit up on 7,000 times a day and changing 10 cloth diapers an hour. I'm not a fan of screaming gassy fits and 2 hour feeding schedules. But all of that pales in comparison to the love I feel for you and how very, truly, wonderfully happy I am that you are part of our family now.

Welcome, son.

Love,
Mommy

eight

2011-08-16T16:04:00.000-07:00

Jaime,

I've lost count of how many times I have started to write and then deleted my first sentence. Even this one sat, cursor blinking at the end, for a good few minutes before I decided I needed to just keep typing. I guess part of the problem is that I don't WANT it to have been yet another year. Another year means another layer of memory worn away by time, another year that I'm closer to being older than you ever were, another year of art and stories and jokes and pranks that never were and never will be.

But I guess that's not the way to look at it. One of your good friends (and mine) made the point that the way to recognize the day of your leaving us is to bring a little bit of you back for those who knew and loved you and share it with the people who were never lucky enough to do so. "Go make someone smile for absolutely no reason. Or find a reason to laugh until it hurts. Or just do something completely unexpected." And that is what you would have wanted, maybe even expected, us all to do.

I can't help but indulge in a selfish moment of sadness, though. For the loss of getting to know who you would have become in your 30s (and 40s and 50s and so on...). For my children, who will never know you. For my mother, for all that she endured eight years ago and so many days since then and all of the memories that haunt her, as they do so many others who were there that weekend. For the dancers and the artists and the actors and the students that miss your presence both onstage and off. For the bear hugs that I miss so very much... so very often... even now.

At least I know, though, that I have grown into a person over these last eight years that you would have wanted to know. You'd be proud of the woman I am becoming, the man that I married, the children I am raising. You'd be amazed by my sisters, and by the little girls you choreographed for and mentored and teased and loved so much, now all stunning and successful women. There's so much you would love about being here now. And there are so many of us who wish that you still were.

I love you.

"What has small balls and hangs down? ... Just answer the question. What has small balls and hangs down? Right, a bat. So what has big balls and hangs up?"

a letter to my son

2011-08-01T19:09:00.001-07:00

Dear Baby Boy,

I love feeling you squirm and kick and roll and punch, watching my body morph as you grow. I love pulling out all of the little tiny onesies and hats and sleepers and sorting them into piles, figuring out what might fit you... wondering just how big you might be when you make your debut. I love seeing Laine start to understand about you, hugging and petting and talking to my belly, welcoming her little brother before she even sets eyes on you (oh, and she HAS tested some of your toys for you... hope that's ok). I love knowing where you are at all times, safe and sound and warm and happy and QUIET.

But, darling son, now that it's August? You can come out whenever you're ready.

I love you already, so very much.

Mommy

PS - You have a very sweet face, little one.

mommyhood is...

2011-06-22T19:03:00.000-07:00

Aiming all of the air vents toward the back seat on a 100 degree day (bonus points for being 7 and a half months pregnant).

Leaving the bedroom door open all night to be sure to hear those first little noises in the morning.

Timing your showers with an episode of Elmo's World.

Reading Sam and the Firefly 4,767 times. Which is probably about 4,765 more times than you actually wanted to.

Wanting to go in and watch your sweet sleeping one's face... but not as badly as wanting them to stay sweet and sleeping.

Relating to the parents of reality show contestants sometimes even more so than the contestants themselves (hey, proud mama crying in the audience... I totally feel ya).

Taking more pictures and videos over a year and half than the other 26 years of your life combined. And thinking everyone surely wants to look at them as much as you do.

Becoming fluent in toddler-ese.

Realizing a dream by driving home a Toyota Sienna, humming the "Swagger Wagon" song to yourself as you pull out of the lot (past all of the hot convertibles... which are just SO not practical right now).

think on this

2011-06-05T05:54:00.000-07:00

If you are a mommy (or a daddy), most especially of the stay-at-home variety, read this. I found that it said a lot of the things I have said or though about the importance and difficulty and monotony and wonder and drudgery and joy of being home with kids all day in such a beautiful, empowering way.

territorial

2011-06-02T17:45:00.001-07:00

I've been determined since the moment I found out I was expecting #2 that I would keep up my gym routine this time and not turn into a York peppermint devouring walrus. So I've been half successful. (I love me some York mints, especially when I'm busy growing a human.) I still hit the gym 3 or 4 times a week, rocking it out on the spin bike or balancing my pregnant self on an exercise ball to do some chest presses. Not gonna lie, I expect people to be a little impressed when I waddle myself into an hour long group exercise class. I notice the double takes and a shoot back a hell-yeah-I-can-grow-a-human-AND-pump-it-up-WHATUPSUCKA look. It's a look I've really begun to master. I've got the pregnant girl at the gym act down pat. It's one of the perks, folks, what can I say? Doesn't hurt that there's not really any competition.

Until today.

I walked into my usual Thursday morning spin class and started setting up my bike and stretching all nonchalant-like when SHE walked in. Slightly sweaty like maybe she had been working out BEFORE class. Cute as a button. And very much pregnant.

Aw, heck naw. I've been dethroned.

will the real june cleaver please stand up?

2011-05-06T09:54:00.000-07:00

I got a sweet note from a friend after my last blog entry thanking me for being "real" on my blog. She said other bloggers (and I'm sure other moms on the playground and in books and magazines and on TV shows) sometimes made her feel that she is falling short of some "good mom" goal and she appreciated reading that someone else might not have it all together either but still managed to get by, maybe even joyfully.

Here's what I want to know: where are they?

Where are all of these "got it together" mamas that we hold ourselves up to and constantly, helplessly, obviously fall short of? I’m sure even those intimidating women I see at the gym with their huge rings and coordinating gym clothes and mammoth SUVs and daughters with matching hairbows feel like they are falling short somewhere. Because most of the women I talk to - real women with real children and lives and husbands and houses that get dirty and laundry that's not done and frozen pizza for dinner - rarely ever seem to feel that they've "got it together". But what does that mean? Where do we get the idea from that mothering has anything to do with being "together"? In my opinion, it has much more to do with just being PRESENT.

Shortly after reading my friend's message, I read another blog entry about very much the same thing. Another mom who might not have a house that looks like the photos in a Real Simple article, but who has identified priorities for herself and her children. Her post centers, to me, around this little snippet of wisdom:

"And then I remember what my most important parenting job is. And that is to teach my children how to deal with being human. Because most likely, that’s where they’re headed. No matter what I do, they’re headed towards being jacked-up humans faster than three brake-less railroad cars.There is really only one way to deal gracefully with being a jacked-up human, and that is this: Forgive yourself."

Can I get an "amen"? How can we teach our children how to gracefully navigate life, mistakes and all, if we pretend to never make them?

At the end of her entry, this blogger asks her readers to leave comments telling what makes them a good mom. Not what they need to fix or forget to do or think that the lady in front of them at carpool does better, but what they do well all on their very own. I think for me it is that I do recognize every day that I am not a perfect mother or wife or housekeeper. My living room rug is currently host to enough dog hair to cover another good sized dog and there is laundry on the bedroom floor that has been there for at least a day or two. I'm not sure what we're having for dinner and it may very well come out of the freezer. But I love my daughter. I love being her mother. She makes me laugh every single day. And what I am good at is allowing myself to fall short of perfect so that I can find joy in those fleeting moments. I’ve found that for me to be a happy, and therefore I think a “better” mother, it's more important to me to BE together than to HAVE IT together.

Happy Mother’s Day, mamas. You’re all awesome.

a likely story

2011-05-04T16:29:00.001-07:00

If I write another blog entry about how I'm going to be better about writing more consistent blog entries, I'm going to be annoyed with myself. So suffice it to say that I really have no excuse other than my long queue on Hulu and a strong desire for afternoon naps. I would say that I also suffer from a lack of interesting things to blog about lately, but some of my most favorite bloggers post nearly every day and always seem to make themselves seem interesting, funny, thoughtful, or all of the above. Plus I have pretty much the most adorable genius baby (eek... I guess I should say toddler... that little stinker will be EIGHTEEN MONTHS old next week) ever in life, so writing about her alone should provide blog fodder for all eternity. I guess I just need to start looking at life through blog-colored glasses. Or just take a healthy dose of ego and assume that everyone finds my life fascinating.

Today I got to be a single mom for a day since Joe went to Augusta for his cousin's med school hooding (YAY Kate!). MAD PROPS to all the single mamas out there. On days when I don't leave home early to teach Joe doesn't usually come home until 5:30ish anyway, but those few hours of having both of us home to share parenting duties is such a joy, not to mention a relief. I just like having someone else there to make decisions, even if it's just what to make Laine for dinner. It's also much harder to be a single CAR-LESS mom, but Laine and I rocked it out today and filled our afternoon with an impromptu playdate with one of her many gentleman callers, a walk to the park (on top of my hour and a half at the gym this morning... wham bam thank you MA'AM... and you bet your fanny I'm bragging on my walrus-y pregnant self), peanut butter and "chocolate" (nutella) for dinner, and a late bedtime because Mommy is a sucker for "again" when it comes to lullabies. I like days when I feel like I am on top of my mommy game, because I know our little world is about to be rocked in approximately 4 months time. Sometimes that seems like an eternity, but on days like this when I did most things right and got some exercise and took a nap and I can sink onto the couch exhausted and satisfied with a quietly sleeping toddler and a sink empty of dishes at 7:30 ready to watch some American Idol... I think 4 months might be just long enough.

IT'S A...

2011-04-19T18:23:00.000-07:00

Because we can't do anything the "normal" way. And because my students are incredible.

Can't wait to meet you, little man. We love you already.

tina fey's prayer

2011-04-15T05:01:00.000-07:00

(Sadly,) I am not Tina Fey. And so, since I can not be any funnier, more concise and direct, or find a better way to combine heartfelt pleading with wit and light-heartedness, I will just post her prayer for her daughter here. And then probably tape it to my bathroom mirror.

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

practice makes...

2011-03-30T11:04:00.000-07:00

My darling husband emailed me an article the other day (with the subject line "article for blogpost"... he's so supportive and encouraging... and he likes to harass me) about a new trend of parents who don't enjoy parenting. Some of this article was very frustrating to me... study after study sited of why parents should be miserable, angry, exhausted, frustrated, and dissatisfied with their lives. And of course we all feel that way sometimes. Maybe even for an entire day. Perhaps even the bulk of an entire week. But my argument is that we have to remember the difference between our own happiness in the immediate present moment, and the fulfillment and satisfaction from creating a family that includes happy, well-adjusted, intelligent kids. I completely agree with the author of the article that we also need to acknowledge that our very ability to analyze our own personal day-t0-day happiness while raising children is a testament to the country we live in and the resources available to us. Our children are not out herding goats while we figure out how to feed them for another day. We can whine about not having time to fit in a yoga class. But I think the most important point the article makes comes at the very end:

Susan Callahan, co-author with Anne Nolen and Katrin Schumann of "Mothers Need Time-Outs, Too," points out that the intense focus on our children can lead many moms to resent motherhood. "We believe that parents, and women in particular, run into a couple stumbling blocks when parenting," Callahan says. "The three big themes tend to be perfectionism, multitasking, and stress." After interviewing more than 500 women while researching their book, Callahan says that she and her colleagues found that "perfectionism is the number one issue keeping modern mothers from enjoying the moment." "We are all so busy trying to be everything to everyone—and doing a stellar job while we’re at it—that we don’t have a spare second to plug into our own needs or desires," she points out.

This point was driven home to me personally when I was reading a parenting magazine last night before bed. There was a section devoted to healthy eating and an active lifestyle for children- something I am sure we can all get behind 100%, especially given the epidemic of childhood obesity in America. A sidebar caught my eye, informing parents that a serving of applesauce can have as much sugar as a brownie and a "turkey and cheddar on wheat has approximately 500mg of sodium" (GASP). Some of this options given (and these are the "good" options... not even the "better" or "best"... because, really, who wants to do the "best" for their kids?) are making your own breakfast treat with Greek yogurt, frozen bananas, honey, wheat germ, and a few semi-sweet chocolate chips or whole grain pasta tossed with a tomato based meat sauce- with grated carrots, zucchini, and wheat germ in the sauce of course. Now I am in no way poo-pooing these meal ideas. But in place of a good ol' turkey and cheese for lunch every now and again? Sorry Parenting: Early Years, I don't think applesauce for an afternoon snack is the dark horse problem behind childhood obesity. I just don't buy it (the idea... I DO buy applesauce... the unsweetened kind, of course). But now am I supposed to feel guilty when I slap together a PB&J for Laine's lunch? Should every lunch involve wheat germ (btw... EW)? How much pressure do we really need to add on to the already mind-blowing task of raising a decent human being?

I don't know how I feel about parents who find parenting to be depressing. I wonder if sometimes we do idealize the lifestyle, or perhaps look back on it when our children are grown with somewhat rose-tinted glasses. But don't we do that about everything? Was college really the "best time of our lives"? I think right now is pretty darn good in Casa Caldwell. And I think a great deal of why I am able to feel that way is because I know without a doubt that I am not doing everything right. I'm not feeding Laine flaxseed and quinoa everyday. I'm not reading every parenting book or following every guideline thrown at me by the pediatric association folks. I am not the perfect mom, but I enjoy my daughter and I try my best.

And I'm ok with that.

self help

2011-03-27T09:40:00.000-07:00

I feel slightly ridiculous saying this since approximately 4,003 of my friends are currently pregnant right along with me, but being pregnant for the second time is kind of a lonely experience. There is no What To Expect the Next Time You Get Pregnant When You Already Have a Brilliant, Independent, Busy Toddler book. I actually looked. Not for that exact title, obviously, but I did peruse the Family and Parenting section at Barnes and Noble when we took Laine to ~~play with the train set~~ develop her young literary mind. I scanned the shelves for anything about introducing a second (or third, or fourth, or eighteenth if you're the Duggars) baby into your pre-existing little family. Nothing. There were books on children with special needs, discipline, how and where and what to feed your toddler, baby sign language, baby underwater basket weaving, and how to control sibling rivalry once those other babies have made their debut and are fighting it out Darwinian style. But what can this anxious second time mommy turn to while awaiting #2? Even the best of the best websites for expectant mother (What To Expect, The Bump, etc.) don't have articles beyond "Are You Ready For Another Baby"? TOO LATE, The Bump. Now what do I do?? Of course the other moms in my life are a huge resource. My college roomie Katie is expecting her second (a little boy!) in August, and she and I discussed this very issue while our precious little firstborns were napping the other day. She told me that her husband sent out a message to their friends with multiple children asking what advice they wish they had been given when expecting (brilliant) and almost all of them said they didn't expect the guilt and difficulty of balancing the needs of their toddler with the demands of a newborn. Well... yeah. At least I know I'm nervous about the right things.

Of course I know that once BC2 is here we will adjust to the "new normal" of having two kids. Laine will never really remember a time before she was a big sister (I don't, and I was older than her when my sisters were born) and the guilt will fade as we learn how to balance their needs and divide time and attention between the two of them. But I knew the same things when I was pregnant with Laine: having a baby would be our "new normal", we would learn how to manage our time and keep our marriage a priority. But it was calming, refreshing, and encouraging to have shelves and websites full of expert advice and other people's experiences to guide me along the way and to remind me that other women- thousands and thousands of other women- have been through the very same things. I wonder why no one has capitalized on the needs and questions of all of us anxious, excited, terrified, and thrilled second time mothers?

Maybe it's time I wrote a book after all...

work in progress

2011-02-23T05:34:00.000-08:00

I was 18, almost 19, when Jaime died. A few weeks after the horrible news, the emotionally draining progression of events, the return home of my exhausted mother from the front lines of tragedy, the rocking of my little teen-aged world, I had to return to Berry College for my sophomore year. I didn't quiet know how to handle the kind of grief I was feeling. I had experienced death before, the loss of a grandfather and of a young friend to cancer, but I had been much younger and somehow their deaths, while profound and terribly sad, had seemed farther removed from me. I wrote bad poetry, I slept a lot, I cried even more. I had dreams about Jaime almost every night where he would come and tell me that it had all been a mistake and we would laugh about how dramatic everyone was together. And then I would wake up and start all over again. I went through what I see now as a pretty normal progression of grief: the anger and denial, the wistful nostalgia, the draining sadness and exhaustion. What helped me finally move forward toward acceptance was the very thing that had brought me to Jaime in the first place: dance. That March I was given my first opportunity to choreograph for Berry's annual dance concert. I couldn't imagine doing a piece that was about anything other than my feelings about Jaime's death. I threw myself head and heart first into my choreography, moved by the lyrics of the song I chose and relieved to finally have an outlet for the torrent of feelings I had been unable to articulate. I chose a dear friend to represent Jaime and three strong and beautiful women to portray the stages of my grieving process. I tearfully explained the story to them and they responded by working diligently to make the piece come to life. I cried every night watching from the wings, holding a picture of Jaime clutched to my heart.

This year I was struck by the desire to bring the piece back to the stage. Seven years have passed and I knew that I had enough time and space from the events to be able to focus more on the dancing itself. I also had students that I trusted to take the dance and do with it what my friends had done years before. I felt that there was potential in the work and I also felt that I needed to "finish" it.

Explaining the story behind the dance to my students was very different from telling it to my friends the first time. I didn't cry this time, although I did find it difficult to look at their sweet, shocked, innocent faces as I told them the hardest parts. But I also told them what Jaime had meant to me, how fun and funny he was, what a talented and inspiring man he had been not only to me but to an entire community. While the dance was about the hardest part of my relationship with Jaime - the end of it - it was also about all that had come before. And in the end, it was about moving on from grief. I don't think I realized that the first time as I sat with a mascara-stained face in the wings of the Rome City Auditorium. Only seven months removed from the loss of one of my dearest friends, I felt that the intensity of my grief would be a permanent fixture in my life. The dance was a small outlet for that intensity, a release. But this time, as much as re-staging the dance was cathartic for me, it was also a gift to Jaime's memory, an homage to the joy we had shared in dancing together. And while I don't know that I will re-stage this dance again, I have learned that my grief is as much a work in progress as this dance was. I know I will probably cry watching my students perform this weekend, and part of that will be out of sadness for what I have lost. But another part with be pride; pride for making beauty out of sadness, hope from hopelessness, and finding creation even in loss.

(another) letter to my firstborn

2011-02-07T09:24:00.000-08:00

Dear Laine,

As you grow up, you will develop a long and ever-growing list of words to identify yourself. Some will be adjectives, but some of the most important will be nouns. For now, besides being funny and smart and stubborn, you are a daughter, granddaughter, toddler, and our firstborn. You added mother to my list a few years after your father added wife, on top of pre-existing words that I share with you: daughter, granddaughter, and, of course, firstborn. Because not only was I always a sister (at least for as long as I can remember), I was an older sister. An oldest. A first.

Darling daughter, in a matter of months you are going to add a very important noun to your list. One of the most important words you will ever define yourself with until you get married and have children of your own.

You, my baby girl, my first child, my daughter, are going to be a sister.

I can't wait to see you in this new role in your life and watch the things that you will share with your little baby brother or sister. While I am certainly anxious about having a baby less than two years younger than you, seeing what an amazing little girl you have become and are becoming every day eases my mind. Knowing how easy it has been to love you and to be your mother assures me that I will only find more love and more joy in mothering you and your sibling.

I know there will be difficult moments for the both of us. There will be disruption to our routine, exhaustion, jealousy, frustration, and confusion. But there will also be so much joy, my girl, and in no small part thanks to you and the light you constantly bring to everyone around you.

And even though you are adding this new special word to your life- sister- you are still and will always be my daughter. My oldest.

My first.

I love you,
Mommy

Baby C #2, due 9/6/2011

big girl

2011-01-31T09:40:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Laine had been playing outside ("side?"), dumping dirt back into the holes that Libby has been working tirelessly on. Joe brought her back in and I laughed at her filthy hands and the dirt that had somehow gotten into her shoes and in between her toes.

"Punkin, you're going to need a bath tonight! You are DIRTY!"

"Dirty!" she parroted. Clear as a bell.

Joe and I looked at each other wide-eyed.

"Did you hear that?" I asked him and Laine piled books into my lap.

"Yeah. She said dirty."

"Sometimes she just... astounds me." I murmured.

As soon as I said it I realized how true it was. Even though she has been mimicking words and learning new ones every day for months, there are moments when she looks at me and says something new and sounds so self-assured, so smart, so much like a big girl! Or I see her trotting down the hall to her room flapping her arms or carrying a book and marvel at how tall she is, how confident, how much of a big girl! Or I ask her to pick out a new book or go get her baby or take a drink of milk and she DOES it and I laugh a little to think that I am actually talking WITH my daughter instead of just TO her. And that soon she will be talking back in more than just parroted words... and then eventually, not long enough from now probably, she will be talking BACK to me. (That is one phase I am in no rush to get to.)

I know as she gets older (taller, BIGGER) that she will continue to get smarter, more confident, more self-sufficient... and I will continue to be more and more astounded.

don't forget to remember

2011-01-20T13:42:00.000-08:00

We forget so much as mothers. Of course we have to forget the pain of childbirth and the anxiety and exhaustion and crippling panicky moments of the first few months, at least enough to be willing to do it again. We forget how tiny they were, when exactly they rolled over back to tummy and tummy to back, how many times we washed yellowy newborn poop off of teeny weeny newborn onesies only to have them spit up on immediately after they came out of the dryer. We forget the name of the mother that we liked at the new mom group, even though we can remember their baby's name and when they (the baby... usually) had their last bowel movement and how they feel about breastfeeding in public. We forget what newborn baby feet smell like... before they start to smell like FEET (the true test of toddlerhood, in my opinion). We forget the mundane moments... and the miraculous ones.

Almost as remarkable as how much we forget as mothers is how much we remember.

We remember a whole new human. Their birthday (down to the minute), how much they weigh and how many inches long they are and how they rank compared to other growing little ones, the foods they like and the ones they throw at you in frustration and disgust, the words they know, the names of their friends (and the words they know and when they walked and ohmygodismybabybehindthatbabyamIaterribleparent?) and when the next playdate is. The words to the books you read over and over (and over) again, from Goodnight Moon to Yummy Yucky to My First Book of Colors. We remember how to translate "Sdat" to "What's that?" and we remember that it's important to try and answer every time, even when we've already told them too many times to count. We remember how much we've forgotten.

And then we remember to thank God that we live in the age of digital photography.

My silly girl January of last year

sheesh

2011-01-19T18:39:00.000-08:00

Remember that time I was going to make blogging more a part of my regular routine? Well, let's talk about what a liar I am. I don't even have good excuses, y'all. We were snowed in for DAYS and I still didn't blog. And trust me, I could have written a freakin' book on The Stir Crazy. Oh The Stir Crazy... sheesh. But ANWAYS. I've been inspired. And Marie, if you're reading, the inspiration is YOU. Marie went to my high school and has a daughter just a few months younger than Laine and she updates her blog with baby updates alllllll the time. The entries are always delightful, usually have pictures, and are just radiating the love that Marie has for her precious little one. Thanks goodness Laine and Libby (Marie's daughter, not to be confused with the Libby that usually gets the spotlight in this particular blog) can't read and compare notes because Laine updates certainly pale in comparison to Miss Libby's lately. So, thanks Marie and Libby for making me ashamed of my slackerdom and motivating me to follow your example.

Laine update, you ask? Well certainly.

Laine is a TODDLER, y'all. It's amazing to me how she has changed in the few short months since her birthday. She is walking/almost running everywhere now and picking up speed and confidence daily. She adds words to her vocabulary constantly and is becoming quite the proficient little parrot (which means Joe and I really need to watch what we say now! yikes...). She's still taking two naps but I think we're sneaking up on a transition to one (yikes again). She eats "table food" almost exclusively, loves her milk and (watered down but don't tell her that) juice in a sippy cup. She still loves her books more than anything and will get me to read to her for hours. She cracks up laughing- sometimes so hard that she falls over- when we add "sound effects" to her books, especially sneezes, "ouch", and "yucky" sounds. She is independent and bright, joyful and friendly, frustrating and delightful. In short, she is everything I would have asked for in a daughter and then some. How lucky am I?

s[no]w way!

2011-01-10T18:02:00.001-08:00

How will I ever convince my 14 month old daughter (who experienced the THIRD SNOW of her little life today) that snow in the south is actually a rare event? I feel it's not convincing when we're blanketed with almost 8 inches of the fluffy (icy) stuff in one day.

Oh and really... how stinkin' adorable is she?

top 5

2010-12-24T09:46:00.000-08:00

In order, my top five Smith (and now Caldwell) family traditions. Happy Holidays, everyone! May you be surrounded by family that are friends and friends that are family. And lots of good food.

5. Christmas Eve spaghetti dinner, complete with green noodles. I don't remember the exact origin of this tradition, but it's a nice break in the monotony of ham after turkey after ham (not that I'm complaining. I could eat holiday food all year round). It always marks the official start of Christmas celebration when I smell my mom's spaghetti sauce bubbling on the stove. Of course there's always peppermint red velvet cake, fudge, Woodford pudding, ginger muffins... our family knows how to do Christmas food.

4. Our annual viewing of the Muppet Christmas Carol. My dad and I are definitely the most enthusiastic about this tradition (although I'm sure some members of my family would have much more colorful adjectives) and could probably reenact the movie on our own without the help of the actual Muppets. Nothing can make me laugh the way Gonzo as Charles Dickens and his faithful sidekick Rizzo the Rat can.

3. The mystery of the ugly Christmas fruit. Years ago when my great-grandmother passed away, my mom managed to sneak away from cleaning out her house without a hideous sculpture of fruit that some kind old lady friends were insisting was "just her style". That year or a few years following (the time line gets a little confused now), my aunt Jane gave it to my mom for Christmas. A few years later, Mom gave it back to Jane. The first Christmas Joe and I were married we had a huge gift under the tree from Jane. I was so excited to open it... until I got past the first layer of tissue and saw the tip of the fruit sculpture peeking out at me. Last year I managed to give it back to mom (via a decoy Big Box) and now it's anyone's guess when, where, and for whom it will re-appear.

2. My family always makes a pretty big deal out of going to pick out our Christmas tree and decorating it. My dad brings down the boxes upon boxes or ornaments, Nutcrackers, figurines, and lights and we spend the day after Thanksgiving re-telling stories, singing Amy Grant Christmas songs from the early 90s, and welcoming the Christmas season as a family.

1. The Big Box started on accident 16 years ago. My Dad put a huge box under the tree with no tag on it, and for a 10, 7, and 4 year old, a large unmarked box at Christmas time is a BIG DEAL. Of course, seeing how excited and curious we were about the box, my Dad made a game of it and refused to reveal who the box was for. It was the last thing we opened Christmas morning, all of us nearly exploding with excitement. It was pillows. For Mom. But the Box was back next year, and the year after that, and it's there this year, 16 years later. Some years it's a hit (a Wii, black pearls for Mom), and some years it's a miss (a vaccuum) but it's always there, unlabeled and enormous, our own little Christmas mystery.

my baby is a genius

2010-12-21T14:11:00.000-08:00

Just because I haven't written them down yet, I probably never will with any future children, and I know I won't remember when I'm 40, here are the words Laine knows so far (at slightly over 13 months of age). You're welcome.

dog
woof woof
meow
roar
baa
bawk bawk (chicken noise)
moo (Are you noticing a theme here? She knows animal noises, but not the actual animal. Go figure.)
bear
door
daddy
mama
hi
uh oh
banana
no
"dat" for "what's that"
ho ho (what santa says)
apple
ball
hat
wawa ("wallet")
bubble
eye
nose
mouth
yay
bye bye
whoa

ho ho... uh oh

2010-12-15T09:36:00.000-08:00

We got there right at 10am, waiting in the front of the line for The Big Man's arrival. When he made his grand entrance and sat in his green velvet armchair and I heard the little ones all around me squeal I couldn't help but get a little teary-eyed. Joe nudged me and laughed, but there was something undeniably moving to me about starting a new tradition with my daughter, one that has always brought me and my family so much joy. I still remember Dad telling us stories while we wound our way through the maze of fake snow, elves, and the like (one of the best was about a reindeer named Elmer who had something to do with creating the famous glue...), watching the videos of ourselves when we got home, the certainty that somehow the Santa at the Augusta Mall was, if not the real thing, close enough to make sure all of our Christmas morning wishes would come true. Laine was squirmy and excited as we moved toward The Man Himself and I allowed myself high hopes for the world's most adorable Christmas card, the first in a long line of happy mall-Santa memories.

Well. There's always next year.

cuisine

2010-11-27T17:50:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite parts of the Thanksgiving meal is the cranberry sauce and in my experience no cranberry sauce could ever quite match up to my grandmother's. It was just the right combination of sweet and tart, with the perfect whole berries to crushed berries to juice ratio. I would always leave a large section of my plate empty until I got to the cranberries and then pile them as high as I could, knowing I would still be going back for more (and then mixing them with mustard for a turkey sandwich the next day... with an extra bowl on the side). I raved to my grandmother every year about her cranberry sauce and she would smile, her eyes full of pride and years of cranberry wisdom and experience and that signature smugness that my grandmother wore as elegantly as her enormous jeweled rings, revealing nothing.

This year was our first Thanksgiving without my grandmother. My mom made the ginger muffins (another of Grandma's finest recipes), cooked a beautiful bird stuffed with cornbread goodness, roasted green beans with mushrooms, and baked apple brown betty for dessert (we skipped the family tradition of Woodfurd pudding... but that's another blog entry). As I was helping put away ingredients, I found the bags of cranberries in the pantry.

"MOM." The bags hung limply, one from each hand, as I turned to her with a look of resignation. "The cranberries."

"Oh," she said dismissively, wiping down the counters. "You just make them."

Now, I am good at many things, but I have never considered myself an accomplished chef by any means. The thought that I, a lowly and inexperienced novice in the kitchen, could recreate the cranberry magic that my grandmother brought to the table every year was not only improbable, it was LAUGHABLE.

"HOW??"

"Greer, just read the back of the bag."

The back of the bag? I turned the package over, sure to be confronted with some kind of code or the first clue that would lead me on the mysterious journey to find the secret of The Perfect Cranberry Sauce. Instead... "Bring water and one cup sugar to a boil. Add cranberries and continue to boil gently for approximately 10 minutes."

"Then what?" I asked my mother.

"Then we'll start the turkey."

"No, I mean, what do I do after the bag instructions?"

"That's it. We put them in the fridge."

The shock must have shown on my face. It was like hearing that the pyramids were actually miniature and just looked big in pictures or figuring out that the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle was actually easily solved with a simple pattern of the same letters every week.

"I feel like part of my childhood was just stolen from me." I said, dumping the berries in the pot and watching them begin to pop and bubble. "All the time she made it seem like this great mystery... this amazing recipe. And all along she was just reading off the back of the bag."

"Well... add something to it then." My mom said. I don't think she got quite how earth-shaking this revelation was for me. I watched the berries bubbling in the pot, waiting for them to reach that perfect whole berries to crushed berries to juice ratio.

And then I did add something. I added some brown sugar and little lemon juice. And I added a little bit of experience, and a little bit of cranberry wisdom, and a little pride. And, just for Grandma, a little bit of that signature smugness and, I hope, a pinch of elegance.

The cranberries were especially delicious this year.

haul out the holly

2010-11-24T05:07:00.000-08:00

Almost every Christmas when my sisters and I were young my parents would dress us in our holiday finest and trot us down to the Augusta Mall for a videotaped visit with The Man Himself. The videos have a place of honor in a cabinet in the living room now, snuggled up with the Disney movies and sing-a-long tapes, recognizable by their red cardboard boxes and descriptions scrawled in my dad's barely legible handwriting: "Greer and Chelsea- Santa 1989" or "The Girls See Santa- 1993". Every so often they are dusted off, rewound, and played for everyone's amusement and nostalgia. There's the Santa with the story about the squirrels, there's the year my hair was especially atrocious, there's the year that Mom and Dad's hair and glasses were almost identical in their enormity. Watching those videos reminds me of that feeling of joy and anticipation that I always identified with the approach of the holidays (and still do). So this year we are taking Laine (in her holiday finest, of course) to the mall to meet Santa. And while I am sure we will record the occasion on my Flip (I don't even know if they videotape for you anymore), I am most excited to capture her reaction and then mail it to our nearest and dearest for this year's Christmas cards.

My family never really did cards... we received a few and put them dutifully on the fridge or in a basket, but I don't recall ever having a family photoshoot or helping my mom compile stats for a newsletter to wow the relatives we never talk to otherwise. It wasn't until the first year that Joe and I were married and got Libby (who was super festive in her holly collar) that I had any desire to send out a Christmas card myself and spent weeks on Shutterfly agonizing over which card to use with which pictures and how many to order and yadda yadda yadda. I get that some people may consider cards wasteful in this modern age when it would be so much easier and cheaper to just send everyone a facebook message with a link to the album full of pictures of Laine and The Man Himself, I feel that there is nothing that quite matches the joy of a tangible paper card with a handwritten address... I know I love this time of the year in part because it's the only time when there is something other than bills and magazines in our mailbox and something other than the gym schedule and coupons on our fridge.

So this year will begin a new tradition in our home of taking our kid (one days kidS) to the mall to see Santa. And while we will not have a cabinet full of VHS tapes to commemorate each year and to watch the steady march of time from one Christmas to the next, we will have a little box of Christmas cards in a closet or an attic, tangible and precious, for her to look back on. Who knows what she will have to say about my hair...

** Yep, I'm willing to sell out a little to make this Christmas card thing happen. My husband is kind of a Scrooge, y'all, so I gotta do my part to make my Christmas dreams come true. Bloggers, interested in scoring some free Christmas cards from Shutterfly? Check it out- they're the jam.

yeah, about that

2010-11-22T17:28:00.000-08:00

So I really did have every intention of blogging every day this month. I threw that intention out into the universe and do you know what happened? The universe LAUGHED at me. And then smacked me in the face with a week that was more of an emotional roller coaster than I have ever experienced before. And people joked that I should have plenty of blog fodder, but I felt weird about that. I know that it is kind of a selfish and egotistical thing to have a blog in the first place, but I felt like I needed to draw a line before I was just exploiting tragedy for the sake of sticking to my NaBloPoMo goal. So, yeah. I did not write a blog entry every day this month (did you notice?). But I'm back! Within the past few weeks I have lost a grandmother, gone to a funeral and thrown a first birthday party within 24 hours of each other, put up Christmas decorations, gone to the beach, gotten bangs, taken Laine to her 12 month doctor's appointment (4 shots, finger prick, AND blood drawn = awful)... it's been an eventful month. And now it's the week of Thanksgiving... the holidays are fast approaching and I couldn't be more excited. Every year it seems I have more to celebrate, more to be thankful for. And even with the negative, sad, and difficult things that have happened lately, I can not deny or ignore the tremendous number of blessings in my life and the importance taking the time to be grateful for and appreciate them.

remember

2010-11-09T18:25:00.000-08:00

Every year at the end of the school year my high school (which I actually attended from 5th grade all the way through 12th) had an assembly. And every year at this assembly there was a slide show. And every year at this assembly during this slide show they would play the same song. To an outsider it might sound monotonous and boring, but to a Davidsonite it was a moment to aspire to- the moment when your face was on that slideshow. When YOU were among the elite, the prestigious, the powerful and all-mighty SENIOR CLASS. You'd watch the faces of your friends fade in and out on the projector screen, laugh out loud at the popular kid's nerdy softball photo from 2nd grade, smile at the sweet smiling faces of your classmates when they were cute and pudgy babies. But it was when your face appeared on the screen that you knew you had made it. You had made it through (in my case and that of a few of my classmates and friends) 8 years at Davidson Fine Arts Magnet School. You were, quite literally, too cool for school. You were moving up and out and on. You were sitting there in the front of the auditorium (in the senior section, of course) and your face was flashing bright and toothy and innocent, larger than life... and then it was gone. And suddenly, with the fading of your own face, you knew what it really meant to be on that slideshow. It meant a passage of time, the end of an era, handing over a torch. It meant watching your friends slip past you, up and out and on into the world. It meant leaving the comfort of the top, front, and center and starting over again somewhere else... on the bottom, in the periphery. It meant leaving the comfort of familiarity for the startling newness of the rest of your life. By the end of the slideshow, almost the entire senior class was usually in tears. As an underclassman I always assumed it was because they were so happy, feeling so close to one another and overwhelmed by emotion. And to an extent that was true. But I didn't really understand until I was there in that moment is the fear that is inherent in the unknown. And while what waits for you may be even better than what you're leaving behind, it doesn't lessen the sadness of having to leave in the first place.

"Long ago, far away, life was sweet... close your eyes."

and i'd been doing so well...

2010-11-08T19:05:00.000-08:00

So it's 10pm and I have yet to write my daily blog entry. I'm kind of at a loss here. I just taught ballet to little people for about five hours and my brain is aching almost as much as my feet (but not quite). The biggest things going on in my life are Laine's upcoming birthday and my grandmother's impending passing. Isn't life a funny thing? Anyway, I'm not really ready to write about either one yet any more than I already have. So I'm going to cheat and send you over to my dad's blog. He has written some insightful, articulate, and inspiring things about what has been happening with my family for the past few days. (I especially like this one.) It's not the first time my dad has been insightful, articulate, and inspiring. I'm sure it won't be the last.

stop this train

2010-11-07T10:16:00.000-08:00

I think this is one of the most relatable songs for a 20-or-30-something that I have ever heard. It's not about falling in love or falling out of love or being cool or wishing you were cool. It's about being able to really take s step back from yourself and see that you are growing up, feeling the panic set in that maybe you don't know HOW to grow up and maybe (definitely) you would really rather NOT grow up, realizing you don't have a choice, and trying your best to deal with it. It's about facing mortality- your own and that of the people closest to you- and still trying to make the most of life while you can. My mom has always impressed upon us that there is balance in everything in life and this weekend has shown me a new dichotomy that I had not really understood before: the balance between fear and acceptance, holding on and letting go, the anxiety of not having enough time and the bravery to do as much as you can with the time you have.

No I'm not color blind
I know the world is black and white
Try to keep an open mind but...
I just can't sleep on this tonight

Stop this train I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly won't someone stop this train

Don't know how else to say it, don't want to see my parents go
One generation's length away
From fighting life out on my own

Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train

So scared of getting older, I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game to find away to say that life has just begun
Had a talk with my old man, said help me understand
He said turn 68, you'll renegotiate
Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
Don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train

See once in a while when it's good, it'll feel like it should
And they're all still around and you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing 'til you cry when you're driving away in the dark

Singing stop this train I want to get off and go home again
I can't take this speed it's moving in
I know I can't
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train

dream a little dream

2010-11-06T06:29:00.000-07:00

I don't usually remember my dreams. I fall asleep fast, sleep soundly, and wake easily (try not to hate me). So when I have nights full of vivid dreams or restless sleep, it's usually a sign of some kind of anxiety or emotional stress. Last week, I dreamed that my best friend's wife was eaten by an alligator that lived in my backyard and was trying to eat my family's dog. A few days later, the same friend betrayed me to some kind of Asian mafia spies who were coming over for a dinner party. The next night, an ex-boyfriend came over to our house to help me bake a bunch of pies. This morning I woke up thinking that there was some hysterical website that I needed to link to on my blog. I sat staring at the cursor for a few minutes before realizing that I must have dreamt about it. Which means that I am now dreaming about blog entries. Apparently NaBloPoMo stresses me out.

PS- Thanks to everyone for their support, concern, prayers, and well wishes. Grandma's condition is still more or less the same, so we're all just staying close and supporting her and one another.

contrast

2010-11-05T08:37:00.001-07:00

In less than an hour, I am taking Laine to a first birthday party for her friend (and birthday buddy- they were born one day apart!) Emilia. Less than two hours later I will be driving home to be with my family as we support my grandmother through what will most likely be one of her last days. She celebrated her 80th birthday this past January. I wanted to say something poetic about the circle of life or the exchange of a last breath for a first, but everything falls flat or makes me start singing the Lion King in my head. Suffice it to say, this should be a day of very mixed emotions for me.

NaBloPoMo

2010-11-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

So apparently November is "NaBloPoMo"- National Blog Posting Month. Why they had to make the shortened version so awkward, difficult to remember, and impossible to say without sounding mildly retarded I have no idea, but there you have it. And while I realize that it is already four days into the month (and exactly one week from my daughter's birthday, but hey, who's counting?) I've decided to give this thing a shot. The deal is that you write one blog post a day for the entire month of November. I'm pretty sure there is no requirement that they all be good posts, so I should be ok on that front. I guess it's like when songwriters try to write a song a day and then they hope that they get a couple good songs out of it. Or when photographers take thousands of pictures with the end goal of 10 or so solid shots. Or when the Duggars have 18 kids and... actually, I'm not sure what their endgame is.

Anyway.

So this is Day One.

Or Day Four.

swiftly

2010-10-29T18:41:00.000-07:00

I just downloaded the new Taylor Swift CD and was listening to it while riding to Target (like ya do) the other day when this song came on. Oh lordy. One does not want to be that person sitting all teary-eyed in the Target parking lot with a whiny baby in the backseat ready to do some hardcore Target browsing, but I totally was. This is the first verse:

Your little hand's wrapped around my finger
And it's so quiet in the world tonight
Your little eyelids flutter cause you're dreaming
So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light
To you everything's funny, you got nothing to regret
I'd give all I have, honey
If you could stay like that

Oh darling, don't you ever grow up
Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little
Oh darling, don't you ever grow up
Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple
I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart
And no one will desert you
Just try to never grow up, never grow up

I can't really say that I don't want Laine to grow up... it has been one of the greatest joys in my life to watch her change and learn and discover and develop over the course of this year (a year that has been both long and short in the way that only something truly new and amazing can be). I look forward to sharing so many things with her as a little girl and a young woman and one day (holy crap) as an adult, but there are moments that I wish I could just freeze time so that she would always find me so funny that it gives her the hiccups and always come crawling full speed ahead towards me whenever she gets hurt.

I've been thinking a lot about her upcoming first birthday: planning her party, trying to decide how I will feel at 9:22pm on November 11th, 2010, remembering what was happening in the two weeks before November 11th, 2009. I've realized that part of why I am so anxious to celebrate the anniversary of her birth is because I think of it as a sort of "birthday" for me as well. At the moment they handed me my little cone-headed beauty and I looked up at Joe and saw the same fear and wonder and relief and joy that I felt echoed in his eyes, a family was born. And suddenly, I was more than a wife, daughter, sister, teacher... I was a mother. So while I am looking forward to having family and friends around to celebrate what a wonderful little human my daughter is, I will also be celebrating the new part of me she created just by being born. And I look forward to that part of me growing up along with her.

cornundrums

2010-10-21T11:47:00.000-07:00

(We're just going to pretend that I haven't (yet again) been such a blog slacker and have been posting regularly. Cool? Cool.)

Last night, thanks to the aligning of some pretty remarkable moons and stars that allowed us to find not only a babysitter and free time, but also a lot of excitable theatre people and their groupies, I got to experience my first corn maze. And really, although I have absolutely no point of reference or comparison, I think that I probably had one of the best groups of people to go to a corn maze with. After "pre-gaming" (ie. stuffing our faces with burgers, hot dogs, and rice krispie treats) and getting our glow-bracelets, head lamps, and rations of chocolate at the Darnell household (Melissa's capacity to host things deserves its own blog entry. Girlfriend is ridiculous.), we headed the few miles down the road to the wonderland of fall festivities that is Washington Farms (which will probably get another blog entry in the next few days since we are taking Laine there this weekend to visit the petting zoo and get a pumpkin and do all of those other cute things that you do when you have a kid. I'll also try to keep a running tally of how many times she asks "Whas dat?" while we're there.)

Loaded up on the hayride. Some of us are more excited than others, apparently.

Of course I had to orchestrate a group shot. Thanks, Washington Farms, for having this all set up for photo-nerds like me. And you can't argue with the cuteness.

The maze was... well... a maze made of corn. I don't feel like my expectations could have been too far off given my decent grasp of the English language. But they did have fun little signs with riddles and trivia questions to give you hints of which way to turn. You know, to keep morale up after you had been wandering through corn for an hour. OH, and of course you had the added incentive to escape so that you could bounce on the inflatable hill of joy that was at the end of the maze. Let's be honest, I probably would have paid the ten bucks for that alone.

It's a CORNDOG. Get it? GET IT??

Awesome, right? I might have ever paid ten dollars just to take this picture.

More of the cuteness. Thanks for a great evening, y'all.

pressing on

2010-09-30T06:11:00.000-07:00

My mom's friend Tara had what seemed like a picture-perfect life. She had a handsome husband and three beautiful, well-behaved, energetic sons. They had more than enough money, a beautiful home, and nice things, were involved and respected in the community, and were surrounded by loving friends and supportive family. I can only imagine the devastation for her and her entire family when her middle son Brennan was diagnosed with cancer a little over a year ago. Suddenly the life that had been such a perfect example of the American dream had become every parent's worse nightmare. Brennan's battle has been a difficult one, as I'm sure it is for all of the children and their parents and siblings and grandparents and friends who face down this horrifying disease every day. But the grace, courage, and determination with which they have approached every challenge and set-back and seemingly insurmountable odd has been nothing short of inspirational. And while the material things they had before their fight with cancer might now seem useless and inconsequential, the support they have garnered from the community has been staggering and the love, hope, and encouragement from their family and friends has been beautiful to witness.

This month is Childhood Cancer Awareness month. Today the Simkins family has chosen to honor Brennan and his friend Patrick (also battling cancer) with a day of fund-raising efforts geared towards finding a cure for this disease that kills more children yearly than asthma, diabetes, cystic fibrosis and pediatric AIDS combined. Please join us to raise awareness by logging on to
www.firstgiving.com/2010curekidspatrickandbrennan
and donating directly. You can also mail a check to CURE or log on to CURE's website
www.curechildhoodcancer.org
and click DONATE, indicating in the comments that your donation is for Press On 9-30. Their goal is to raise $100,000 in Patrick and Brennan’s honor to help fund research that will lead to better treatments and cures for pediatric cancers.

PRESS ON!

double digits

2010-09-10T05:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Laine,

Lainey-bug, Punkin, Babycakes (or just 'Cakes, as your Daddy calls you), Doodlebug... you are ten months old today. You have now been out in the world as your own little unique, independent being longer than you were inside of me as my little tumor-baby. It's amazing the changes that have taken place in both of us over these ten months. You are a daily source of wonder, joy, frustration, amazement, anxiety, and pride for me and your father. Already, before you can even walk or talk, I am so proud of the little human that you are and who you are becoming before my eyes.

You are absolutely a handful. Now that you are mobile there is nothing that you don't want to see, pull up on, attempt to eat, or explore. There is no power cord or coupon insert or leaf or dead bug that you won't put in your mouth (PS- when does that stage end? I'm kinda over digging things out of your mouth, especially now that you have sharp little teeth you can clamp down with). You are smart and spirited, always studying everything and everyone, and a wonderful little mimic, which your daddy and our friends and I will have to start being careful of very soon. You are a fantastic sleeper (thank you, sweet baby... we love you so for that little gift), and you have so far eaten every single thing we have given you with great relish. Except pancakes, but we can eventually forgive you for that. You are also quite the musician; you love your toy "one man band set" with the flute and drum and maracas.

One of my favorite things to do is take you out to run errands during the day. Now that you're a big girl and can sit up in the front of the cart by yourself you love to flirt with everyone who walks by. You're completely indiscriminate: old people get the same treatment as other babies and kids, men get grinned at as much as women. And it work so well- you have never been somewhere and not made friends or gained admirers. You're absolutely charming and delightful, and I love all of the warm smiles and laughter you solicit from complete strangers everywhere we go.

Your favorite thing to do lately is to be chased. You explode into fits of adorable giggles if your daddy and I try to keep you from crawling somewhere. Often you will leave the room and then turn and look behind you to see if we're following. Sometimes it's cute, but sometimes I really do want you to stay out of the toilet bowl and then it's a little more frustrating. But I'm always a sucker for that little belly laugh of yours. And I am getting to hear it more and more often- you've got quite a sense of humor!

You are far and away the most joyful little human I have ever known. While I have been tempted to throw you out a window during your whiny, clingy, teethy phases (I feel like I can say that because my parents said it to me and I turned out ok) and your poop just gets more and more smelly, there is nothing in this world I love more than being your mother. You are a light in my life and I love you so so so much. I could not have imagined or asked for a more perfect first daughter.

Love,

Mommy

those who burn books...

2010-09-08T07:16:00.000-07:00

‎This video is sad and terrible and ridiculous... and needs to be shared. (And bless the newscaster's heart... she gets PISSED.)

But all is not lost. Thanks for something refreshing and true following on the heels of something so nonsensical, CAIR.

"As the German Jewish poet Heinrich Heine wrote almost two centuries ago, "Those who begin by burning books will end by burning people." The theater piece for which he wrote those words, called "Almansor," was addressing the Inquisition's burning of the Quran. In 1933, university students in Heine's own beloved homeland burned his books, along with many others. They burned people soon after."

PS- How about we all go to a karaoke party to commemorate 9/11 instead? Yes? Great.

they say it's my birthday

2010-09-07T07:55:00.001-07:00

(Well hey there, blog. Long time no see.)

Birthdays and holidays have always been a pretty big deal in my family. We celebrate birthday seasons- calling to get wish lists and planning dinners and parties weeks in advance. Christmas traditions are treasured, taken out and dusted off every year with each ornament, stocking, ice-skating bear figurine, and advent calendar. But while Christmas has always topped my list of favorite holidays, there was nothing that I looked forward to as a child quite as much as my own birthday. There is something to be said for a day that is a celebration of being born that I think resonates with my ego quite nicely. But I also must attribute my love for birthdays to two other things- my mother and the Penny Whistle Party Planner.

The PWPP is a book that my mom took out every year the month or so before mine or one of sister's birthdays (although I don't think that either of them would argue that I was (am?) far and away the most enthusiastic about it). Each chapter of the book is dedicated to a different party theme. The authors give ideas for everything from invitations to games to food that incorporates your theme of choice. And we got INTO IT. Some of my favorite parties include:

1. My first ever theme party was a Swan Lake party when I was quite little (3 or 4 I think... Mom could confirm). One of my first dance teachers, who was a professional dancer at the time, came over and taught all of us little ones a "Swan Lake variation", in which I was of course featured as the lead swan (I won't go so far as to call myself Odette, but I was kind of prodigy, y'all). Everyone got little clear plastic swans filled with candies and my mom made all of the girls their own little tutus and we performed for everyone's parents at the end. As mother to a little girl now I can only imagine how ridiculously stinkin' cute that must have been. Oh, and I had a Barbir cake with a real Barbie in it. The cake was her skirt. Not theme appropriate, but awesome.

2. Pig Party. I went through quite a pig phase in middle school. I had a ton of the suckers... stuffed one, figurines, calendars, you name it. (I still have some of them... they are now in residence in Laine's room.) So of course my birthday party had to be pig themed. We had no-handed jello eating contests, pig calling contests, and some relay race type game involving a pink balloon and crawling...

3. Artist Party. My friend Christin still gets props from my family for her own personal dedication to this theme- she came wearing a scarf and beret with a little swirly mustache painted on her face. We had an older kid from my fine arts school draw portraits of all of us (we still have mine somewhere, and I know some of my friends have theirs as well), and of course there was all sorts of craftiness.

4. Kidnapped Party. We did this for my 13th birthday (Yes, the theme parties lasted that long. I'm not ashamed.) and it is probably my all-time favorite party idea. It's basically a reverse surprise party- the only person that knows about it is the guest of honor. My mom contacted all of the guests parents and told them to have a toothbrush and small travel bag ready the morning of the party. We (my sisters and I) woke up really early and piled into the Suburban and went one by one to "kidnap" each girl from their bed. Then we returned home with six or so bed-headed, pajama clad 13 year old girls and had a breakfast feast.

This year I'm turning 26. Not really an exciting number: no milestones, no special privileges and no expectations of any kind of crisis. But that's never mattered in my family. Birthdays may seem trivial to other people, but my mother taught me early that every year is special one and deserves to be celebrated. And as much as I loved all of those parties and owe so much thanks to my mom for all of the time and effort she put in to make them special every year, I thank her even more for teaching me that, and for making me feel that the day of my birth was, and is, cause for so much celebration.

seven

2010-08-17T17:49:00.001-07:00

I feel like it's only been a short time since I wrote the entry "six"... and yet here we are a year later. At "seven".

Dear Jaime,

Seven years. I think back on the me that you knew seven years ago and I can only hope that you are able to see who I am now. You would have been so proud of me. I'm getting back up on the stage, doing the thing we both loved best. You would actually be phenomenal in the show I'm in now... it's such a wacky comedy, full of the physical humor and comic timing you excelled at. I'm also mother to the most beautiful baby girl... you would adore her. I wish she could know you.

I still think about you all the time. Joe and I went to Vegas last week and we saw street performers in the Venetian and as always those silly human statues had me caught in a place between smiling and wanting to cry. I'm going to the beach this weekend and, while it's thankfully so much less painful to walk to the point now, I still find myself walking towards the houses more often than not. It's just a little easier that way. I'm also hoping to re-set the piece I choreographed for you in 2003 this year on some of my amazing students. Since it was my first real work of choreography I feel like I can make some changes to make it even better now... a better testament to what an inspiration you were in life... and how painful it was to lose you.

My life is very full at this point... I'm turning 26 next month and I feel like I'm exactly where I hoped I would be. My family is happy and always a joy to be with, Joe is working hard and supporting me and keeping us both laughing, Laine is healthy and happy and such a pleasure to be around, and I have found fulfillment through community theatre (which I'm sure you can relate to) and a job surrounded by exceedingly talented kids. But know that you are missed. Maybe not as constantly and achingly as you once were... but I think that's a good thing. But you are, and will always be, a hand print on my heart. I love you.

Greer

friends

2010-08-05T11:16:00.000-07:00

Laine is good at many things. Drooling, for one. Throwing pacifiers out through the slats of her crib, for another. But if I had to name one I'd say that her greatest skill is making friends. Waiting in line at the grocery store (or Target, her fave), she'll tilt her head to the side so far it is almost resting on the handlebar of the cart and offer up her sweetest, two-toothed smile to the little old lady behind us. Or at a restaurant, she'll wave her slobbery-Puff covered fist in the air and coo at the couple dining near us until they have no choice but to engage her in conversation. My favorite (and a surefire winner) is when we're talking to someone unfamiliar while I'm holding her and she'll drop her head onto my shoulder and look up, batting her baby blues from under long eyelashes, pretending to the delight of the onlooker that she is meek and shy. She's got mad skills.

She was on her A-game the other afternoon when we visited the children's section of the Athens public library. As soon as I put her down, she crawled her way over to a group of kids sitting on a bench, sat back on her little padded behind, and grinned up at them charmingly. Fortunately for her, they were more than receptive. The coo-ed and aww-ed at her, showering her with chewed up baby books and worn out stuffed animals. She had them wrapped around her finger... especially the oldest girl, a self-proclaimed "expert at babies".

"You know what I love about babies? How they grab onto your shirt when you hold them. I bet she does that, doesn't she? They all do, you know," she said, holding her youngest sister on her lap and trying to pry a board book out of Laine's mouth. "And they like to chew on things. But this is a library book, so I won't let her."

Laine was amazed at this smaller-than-normal human. She gazed up at her, turning on the charm full force. Baby Expert scooped her up onto her lap and tried to read to her, fighting to keep the book out of Laine's fists and mouth.

"You should take her over to the doll house. Babies love dolls houses. Actually, I'll take her. Cause she might try to put stuff in her mouth again, right?

"Yep, probably."

"OK, well I'll keep an eye on her. You should look at the parenting books. They have a lot. And some of the books you can listen to in the car, which she might like. Especially fairy tales. Babies like fairy tales."

I was still stuck on the suggestion that I check out some parenting books. Clearly I was not yet to "expert" level and could use the guidance.

"They have board games too," she informed me while Laine gnawed on the dollhouse roof like a baby beaver. "Does she play board games? You could probably help her. There's one about Goodnight Moon, which you've probably heard of. She would like that. Babies like Goodnight Moon."

"Yes, we've read that one quite a few times."

"Well, you should get the game then. Babies like games."

I scooped Laine up, juggling our library books in the other arm, coaxing her to tell her new friend "bye-bye" ("Babies like to wave bye-bye, don't they?") and making for the exit, Baby Expert tagging along behind us.

"You should come back more," she said behind me. "This is a good place for babies to make friends. I've made lots of friends here when I come."

I think Laine has met her match.

coupon schmoupon

2010-07-19T16:08:00.000-07:00

Joe has started coupon-ing. And as any of you who know Joe will affirm, Joe does not do anything halfway. He doesn't even just do it all the way. He does it the holy-cow-man-get-a-hold-of-yourself-and-remember-there-are-other-things-in-life way. Many times this is an attribute that works well for him in his life. He's an extremely dedicated employee, a devoted father and husband, a loyal friend, and an amazing and focused student of anything and everything that interests him. And one heck of a coupon-er.

Now I can't really come down too hard on the coupon lifestyle. There have been a few times where he has come home proud as a peacock with a trunkload of groceries and other household items. He held his receipt in the air like the third tablet that was never brought down from the Mount (TIL NOW) and told me that he got $50 worth of stuff for A DOLLAR. Or something to that effect. And really, who wouldn't be impressed? So I pat him on the head and tell him what a man he is with his expandable file folder of newspaper clippings and help him unload his bounty.

And during the unloading is where my main problem with Joe's coupon frenzy comes in.

Of course I'm thrilled with the four boxes of cereal for a mere $2. And the free shampoo (FREE!). And the BOGO granola bars. And the...

I'm sorry... WHAT?

Oh yes, and then these as well...

(This may not seem so bad until you take into account that we don't own a Glade scented oil thingee to begin with. So refills seem a bit useless, do they not?)

Now Mr. Super-Coupon, of course, has infallible reasoning for these purchases. You see, the rebate for the GRAY HAIR DYE FOR MEN (I just feel that a product so ridiculous should be written in all caps) worked with the coupon so that they were basically paying YOU $1.50 to buy it! And the refills? Well they were free with Extra Care Bucks! And if you spent $20, then CVS (the Mecca of the coupon savant) gave you back $5! Who WOULDN'T buy these things? It's LOGIC.

Indeed.

One can't argue with such logic.

Instead, one must shake their head, roll their eyes, and be ever so thankful for extra, unused cabinet space in the kitchen, designating one lucky cabinet as a sort of Island for Misfit Coupon Purchases.

And then one must get to work on eating all that cereal.

m.i.a.

2010-07-12T12:02:00.001-07:00

Hey blogosphere! Yet again I have to start an entry by apologizing for my lengthy absence. It's amazing the difference it makes to have a mobile baby as opposed to a non-mobile (immobile?) one. Laine requires a great deal more active supervision now than she did when I could plop her on a blanket by my feet while I typed. It gives me a whole new respect for some of my favorite mommy bloggers... it takes a great deal of time management and dedication to maintain a decent blog, let alone a really phenomenal one like some of these women have. But fortunately for you I am trying to get my life a little more organized and take better advantage of the little baby-free time I have (hallelujah for nap time, am I right?) and blogging is going to get squeezed into that Excel spreadsheet somewhere. While sometimes I dismiss it as a silly hobby, I feel it is a really valuable way of keeping track of myself and my family and I know that I will really enjoy looking back on even the most mundane of entries a few years down the line. And I enjoy having a creative outlet that I can share with whoever cares to read it. So, if you've been missing me in your Google reader, fear not... hopefully I'll be updating weekly from now on!

At least until Laine starts walking.

first father's day...

2010-06-20T06:11:00.000-07:00

Watching you become a father on that day seven-some-odd months ago...

And grow in your confidence, your love for our daughter, your role as "family man", "provider", "Daddy"...

Has been one of the greatest joys and sources of pride in my life so far.

Happy Father's Day, pook. We're both so lucky to have you.

look out world...

2010-06-18T11:23:00.000-07:00

Lainey's on the move! After a few frustrating (for both of us) weeks of bouncing on her hands and knees and kicking violently on her tummy, Laine decided enough was enough of the immobility nonsense. Motivated by her desire to see (ie. eat) my Real Simple magazine, she took her (very confident) first few crawling steps, and she's been on the go since then! Thankfully I had my Flip camera handy and managed to get her to do it again (and again and again... yikes). She has also figured out how to get herself into a sitting position from her tummy, so looks like someone will be lowering the crib mattress tonight...

this one goes out to all my mother-fathers

2010-06-08T04:55:00.000-07:00

Saw this gem on Kalli's blog and just HAD to share. Give us a few years and Joe and I will totally make a video like this. Cause you know we are most def' going to be rockin' a minivan. Word.

it's about carousel, but josh said to title it "josh"

2010-06-06T08:34:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to write a post about Carousel for the past few weeks, but every time I sit down to start one I get stuck (clam up, maybe? HA. that was an insider's joke, y'all.) This one will probably even have to go through the draft process, which I don't usually do. Usually I type, do a quick scan for squiggly "you spelled that wrong, moron" lines, and click the publish post button all in under half an hour or so. But this show... the experience of this show, rather, and the relationships I've gained and things I've learned and strengths I've rediscovered have been so important that I feel like if I'm going to blog about it then it needs to be good.

I auditioned for Carousel with high hopes but limited expectations. I wasn't sure who I was up against, what part I was right for, or if I would even remember what the heck I was doing once I was standing in front of people trying to sing. It wasn't until after I auditioned that I did some youtube exploration and learned more about the roles I would be appropriate for. And it wasn't until after I saw the cast list that I realized how much I had wanted the role of Carrie, which was (thank the Lord... and Drew) the part I was cast in.

I have always enjoyed the process of creating a show almost as much as the final product of performing in one. Rehearsing feels more like play to me than work, and most of my favorite people have been actors/singers/dancers/all of the above. This show was no different, and maybe even a little more fun than usual thanks to the amazing cast and the fact that I had basically quit performing cold turkey after college. Creating the character of Carrie was equal parts difficult and easy- difficult because I hadn't had to learn song and lines in so long, easy because I had excellent direction and scene partners and PLENTY of enthusiasm.

But this show has meant more to me than just a return to the stage. It's been a return to parts of myself that I had forgotten or temporarily set aside. I have grown not only as a performer but as an adult and a friend. I was able to work with people who were before just the stuff of Athenian theater legend (and who far and away surpassed every expectation I had) and get to know others even better than I had in previous contexts. I was reminded of the rush of getting a laugh and earning applause, of the adrenaline that motivates you to go for feta fries at the Grill after 6 hours at the theater, of the work involved in getting into character (fake ponytails and all), and of the strange and wonderful kind of bond forged among cast-mates.

While I hope that Carousel is the first in a line of shows that I will be a part of in Athens and as an adult, I know it will always hold a special place in my memory and my heart; the show that brought me new confidence, new friends, and a new catch phrase. And really, who could need much more than that?

No one walks out on Carrie Pipperidge, y'all.

(Haven't seen it yet? You've still got four more chances! Call 706-208-TOWN and reserve your tickets. All mushy reflection aside, it's a darn good show.)

unexpected

2010-05-19T11:29:00.000-07:00

There is one thing that I have gained since becoming a mother that I did not at all anticipate. It is something that most new mothers probably do not have, or if they do then it was already well established. (Or maybe they are just cooler than me?) It is also something that it has always been a struggle for me to maintain/find/enjoy for most of my life.

It is the ever-elusive "social life".

It would seem (or at least I assumed) that once you have a little person dependent on you for food, shelter, and most other things necessary for survival, a social life would go right out the window. Kind of like free time and sleeping in (oh, goodness, how I miss sleeping in...). But in the past few months I have found the opposite to be true.

I attribute this to a number of things. First, and most importantly, I have an amazing and supportive husband. He is so wonderful with our little girl and is willing, even happy, to be home with her in the evenings while I work (and now play some, too!) with hardly a complaint. I am also much more comfortable being away at night now that Laine has a set bedtime routine. Every night by 7:30 I can be fairly certain that she is asleep and will stay that way for approximately 12 hours (am I a lucky woman or what, y'all?). Also, I have entered into situations that are conducive to forming adult friendships, the first being a group of new mothers that meets weekly at Full Bloom, which has become the foundation for Mother's Night Out festivities, weekly playdates, etc. The second is the production of Carousel that I recently auditioned for and was cast in. Being surrounded by such passionate, clever, talented, and fun-loving people has been rejuvenating for me in so many ways and has really filled a hole in my life that I wasn't even really aware existed.

All this is to say that I am happy and fulfilled beyond measure at this time in my life. My daughter is precious and healthy and happy and brings me joy daily (hourly, even). My husband is an anchor and compass for our family and for me, and has proven his love for me by allowing me and encouraging to do things that I may otherwise have let pass by. And my new-found friends and freedom have reminded me how much fun it can be to define myself in terms other than "mother" and "wife" and "teacher". Things like "performer" and "friend" and "adult". And the more complete a person I am, the more ways I find to define myself, the better I become at those first, most important, three.

changing the world... one blog at a time

2010-05-12T07:23:00.000-07:00

It seems that I have been inspiring people to start their own blogs... namely my co-workers! Fortunately for me (and for those of you who like to read blogs), I work with interesting, creative, and artistically talented people.

First to join the blogging fun were my bosses, Shane and Terra. They started theirs to celebrate and document the arrival of their third son (!!!) Chase and the goings-ons of their busy little family (running a dance studio and taking care of three little boys under 5 would give anyone something to blog about!).

And then came Wonder Woman, AKA Lucy. Lucy wears many hats around the studio but basically she runs the joint. Between keeping up with accounts and tuition, to ordering costumes and organizing everything for our showcase and performances, Lucy is the go-to gal for pretty much everything on the business side of things. She also happens to be a talented actress in her own right and is going to grad school in L.A. next year. Sad times for me and the rest of the staff, but SO awesome for Lucy!

The last one to tell me of her new foray into bloggerdom is fellow teacher Hillary. Hillary is the only teacher that has been at the studio longer than I have, and she is hanging in there even now that she is teaching middle school math, and coaching both soccer and cheerleading! Her dedication to and love for her students is really amazing to see... and they definitely return the feelings.

It's exciting for me to see all of these people jumping onto the bandwagon and sharing their perspectives and lives via blogging. Anyone else joining in the fun?

happy mother's day!

2010-05-09T17:34:00.000-07:00

It's amazing beyond words the changes in me (my perspective, my priorities, my family and marriage, my internal clock, my capacity for anxiety as much as for joy, my body, my ability to do things one-handed, my definition of "free time", the size and bounds of my ability to love) from here:

To here:

To here.

Happy Mother's Day to all who are blessed enough to be one, have one, or become one.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." ~Rajneesh

sprung

2010-04-28T11:28:00.000-07:00

It is SPRING in Georgia, y'all! I can say with the authority of about 25 years of experience that spring is the best time to be in Georgia and that Georgia is the best place to be in the spring. Azaleas, dogwoods, perfect temperatures... pollen coming out of your ears, but that's another story. This poem always comes to mind when April rolls around. Here is to opening the eyes of your eyes and awakening the ears of your ears!

i thank you God by e.e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

holy followers, batman!

2010-04-25T06:56:00.001-07:00

Whoa you guys! When did I suddenly jump from 5 followers consisting almost entirely of blood relatives to 21 followers?? I know 21 is kind of a measly number for some big-time bloggers out there (dooce would totally scoff at me I bet) but I have to say I am pleased as can be to see all of those anonymous little blue-blogger heads over there sin my sidebar. Welcome, newbies! I guess now I should start blogging more regularly...

Joe and I are coming up on of 3 year anniversary this week. We have a pretty good track record of anniversary celebrations (is 2 really enough for a track record?). Our first year Joe surprised me with a night at Chateau Elan complete with spa treatments for both of us (yeah... my husband got a pedicure... hotness.) and fancy multi-course dinner. Last year I reserved a cabin for us in North Georgia with a hot tub (which of course I ended up not being able to get in due that whole pregnancy thing I found out about the week before we went) and a mini-arcade for Joe. This year we were both kind of slacking and hadn't planned anything at all beyond "well... I guess we can go out for dinner the night of"... and then I ended up getting scheduled for a rehearsal that night (for Carousel... in which I have one of the lead parts... more about that later but suffice it to say that I am super excited and it's basically awesome). So we were fast approaching anniversary d-day with no plans whatsoever, let alone fancy weekends away.

Last night we went with Joe's boss/friend Josh (look, Josh, a blog shout out!) and his lovely date Jessica to a Terry School of Business Alumni gala in Atlanta. Fancy stuff, y'all. As part of their fundraising efforts they had a massive silent auction as well as a live auction after dinner. On a whim I decided to bid on a package for a trip to Vegas including limo service and tickets to Love, the Beatles Cirque show. There was only one bid on it so far, so I wrote myself down and figured I'd be quickly outbid. (Can you guess where this is going?) Much to my excitement and Joe's surprise, no one else bid and I WON! Upon seeing the final list of auction winners, Joe smiled (a little smugly in my opinion) and said "Happy anniversary, babe."

Sometimes I think I make things too easy for him.

and the winner is...

2010-04-17T09:21:00.000-07:00

Whirl (aka our good friend Stephen... but I swear it was chosen blindly by my better half), who said "It's like Free Willy, but for old people." A close second was Pamela with "I swear, guys, that's my wife!". Thanks to all who entered, but only Stephen gets the rockin' prize of a ten dollar Target gift card! (Or I'll take you out to dinner, Stephen, your choice...)

We will now return to our regularly scheduled blogging. Stay tuned for more contests and giveaways in the future though!

caption contest!

2010-04-12T06:07:00.000-07:00

Stephen, purveyor of all things weird, random, and hysterical on the internets, linked me to this goody this morning.

Yeah.

I wasn't sure what to do with it at first, but I knew it must be shared. So I decided to use it for... wait for it...

my first blog contest (insert fanfare, drumrolls, canon fire, fireworks, etc.)!!!

Leave a comment with a caption that best suits this picture. After a few days I will read them to Joe and have him pick the funniest/most appropriate one (without knowing who said what... see how legit this is?) and the author of said witty and hilarious comment will be THE WINNER! The GRAND POO-BAH of ALL BLOGGERDOM.

I don't know what you will win, but it will be something AWESOME. And CHEAP. And probably from TARGET.

Now get to commenting, my witty friends! Can't wait to read what you come up with!

a day in the life

2010-03-31T05:14:00.000-07:00

8am- Baby wakes up. Of course the one day I scheduled her doctor's appointment based on her usual 7:30am wake up time, she decides to hit her little baby snooze button and sleep in. Nonetheless, grateful for the extra 30 minutes.

9:30am- Take a bath with baby in bouncy seat watching/fussing/napping. Makes it a bit difficult to relax but cleanliness and non-porcupine hair is still achieved so I chalk it up as a win.

10:15am- Convince baby that napping in swing is a good idea.

11am- Baby is weighed by by friendly nurse that sadly looks like she might eat children that cross bridges without answering a riddle. 12 pounds 5.5 ounces!

11:30am- Baby is due to eat but we are still waiting on doctor to tell us what we already know (ie. baby gained weight, keeping doing what you're doing, good job Mommy, etc.). Teething links and a stuffed lion can only distract for so long before baby turns into little hungry ball of rage. Finally, Dr. Baker comes in and confirms that, yes, my suspicions were correct that 12 lbs. 5 ozs. is indeed more than the 11 lbs. 8 ozs. she weighed 2 weeks before*. Therefore she has gained weight, keep doing what you're doing, good job Mommy. When he shows me Laine's weight gain on a percentile chart, she bursts into a tearful screaming fit. I tell him she has body image problems from all of this pressure about her weight.
*Mommy generally has NO problem gaining 1 lb. in 2 weeks.

11:50am- Ravenous baby gets to eat.

12:30pm- Pay LAST rent check and drop of keys! YAY!

1pm- BabyGap has no baby girl sun hats. Can you believe it? Aren't they supposed to be THE place for cute baby summer clothes? Especially when I have a $10 coupon? First time I can recall every being disappointed in anything Gap-related.

1:15pm- Gymboree has multitudes of sunhats. Also, a mom with a baby named Noel because she was born right before Christmas. All involved in the conversation agree that this was a perfect and logical choice. I consider saying that my daughter was born right before Thanksgiving and that her name is Turkey.

2:30pm- Ravenous baby strikes again.

3:30pm- Daddy home, baby hand off, Mommy to work.

8pm- Get home 30 minutes early in time to feed baby and put her to bed! However, when I kiss her sweet little head, I nearly burn my lips off. Baby is on FIRE. After taking her temp and finding it to be much higher than I am comfortable with (102.3! eek!) we call the doctor's answering service. The nurse tells us not to worry if she is not showing any other symptoms but to check on her through the night and give her tylenol every 4 hours. Remember how much I love setting my alarm at 4 hour intervals? So much.

12:30am- Baby still feverish, but it's gone down. She looks at me like a crazy person when I take her out of her crib to give her medicine, but goes right back to sleep. Good baby.

4:30am- She doesn't feel hot to the touch anymore, so I decide to let her sleep.

5am, 5:15am, and 5:30am- Baby grunting.

5:35am- Give up and feed baby.

8:30am- Baby still asleep. Write blog entry about day.

8:35am- Come full circle.

snooze

2010-03-27T06:49:00.000-07:00

I was anxious about a lot of things before I had Laine, but somewhere near the top of that list was Sleep Deprivation. It's in all of the What To Expects and Girlfriend's Guides and Holy Cow You're Pregnant Now What books. And then of course there are all of the Happiest Baby on the Block and No Cry Sleep Solution and Make Your Baby Sleep So You Don't Want To Throw It Out a Window books. So you go into this having a baby thing knowing full well that your sleep patterns will either change or become completely non-existent.

To prepare myself I did what they always tell you not to do at the end of summer vacation right before school starts back. I slept as late as humanly possible every day. I refused to set alarms, I didn't make plans or appointments before noon, I kept the blinds closed and the dogs in their kennels and I buried myself under the covers until I had to go to the bathroom so bad I could no longer fight the need to get out of bed. And then some days, especially when I didn't have to teach, I would squeeze in a late afternoon nap as well. Just because I COULD.

Maybe we got lucky or maybe we did something right (or probably a little bit of both) but I didn't think that the newborn stage was as bad as some people say, Sleep Deprivation wise. Laine definitely woke up to eat at night, but once the doctor gave us the ok to let her wake us up on her own (how I hated setting an alarm for 11:30 pm and then 2:30 am and then 5:30am... there are no hateful words strong enough) she seemed to get the hang of the whole nighttime-daytime thing pretty quick. And I took the "sleep when she sleeps" lesson to heart, bringing her back to bed with me if she woke before the sun was up.

And now Laine has finally reached the glorious Sleeping Through the Night stage of life. I read one book that said that Sleeping Through the Night was really only 6-8 hours for an infant but I'm calling BULLHONKIES on that. Six hours is not a full night's sleep for anyone. I was thrilled when she slept 6 hours in a row for the first time, but I in no way counted that as "through the night". But Laine now sleeps 10 to 12 wonderful hours. TEN to TWELVE. Those are big number, y'all. However, those hours start at about 8pm. Meaning even at her snooziest she wakes up around 7:30 or 8am every morning.

To my pre-baby, zero-tolerance for alarm clocks self, that is hecka-early.

(Love and hugs to those of you whose little precious ones (ie. sleep eating demons) still wake up every 2 hours or have chosen 5:30 as the wake-up time for your household. I have a special place in my heart for you and mothers of twins and triplets.)

But to my post-baby, new mommy, adultish self, it is becoming the new normal. My inner clock is adjusting. I go to sleep a little earlier than I used to and find myself waking up at 7:25 waiting to hear Laine squawking and grunting in her crib. She greets me with wide-eyed, open-mouthed joy and wiggles of pleasure (which helps clear that early morning fog for sure), cooing and gurgling as I change her diaper and get her dressed for the day. Yesterday after she had eaten, I decided we would go ahead and run some errands before her mid-morning nap. Feeling alert and awake and adult-like, I buckled her into her carseat and headed out, to-do list in hand.

I was confused when the bank parking lot was nearly empty, and annoyed to find the door locked. Was it a holiday? Why on earth would the bank be closed? I turned to lug the carseat back to the car and the man parked a few spots down from me rolled down his window.

"They don't open the lobby til 9."

9am.

It wasn't that they were closed. It was that they WEREN'T OPEN YET.

Let's just say that getting places before they opened was never a problem for me before.

letter to my girl

2010-03-09T09:07:00.001-08:00

Laine,

You will be four months old on Thursday. FOUR MONTHS. Although I am amazed at how much you have changed in that amount of time (which is, in a way you can't really understand until you have your own babies, both very short and very long), I am almost more astonished at how much I have changed. I look back on those blurry, panicky weeks when we first brought you home and it feels like remembering a movie. Was that really me? Were those whirlwinds of emotion really mine? I feel like I spent most of the time just looking at you with a mix of amazement and fear, wondering what on earth to do with you and hoping I would figure it out so I could help you grow up happy and healthy and strong. I had no idea what I was doing most of the time in that first month, Lainey-bug, and I sometimes still don't. But every now and then when the car seat snaps in on the first try or you go down for a nap without a fuss or I manage to get out of the house with you and all of your stuff in under ten minutes I think... "huh... I'm getting the hang of this mom thing".

You have added so many skills to your resume in the past months. You still don't like to roll over or spend much time on your tummy, but you are a champ at holding your head up and grabbing onto toys and kicking (boy do you ever love to kick... which I should have known after carrying you for 39 weeks). You love to be read and sung to before bedtime and get the sweetest little furrow in your brow while you study your Winnie the Pooh and Goodnight Moon. You smile and coo and scoot around on the floor and are basically just the cutest, most delightful little creature.

We have also discovered in the past month or so that you are not a fussy baby. You don't cry or fuss or whine. Oh no. You SCREAM. You are a shrieker. Sometimes the rage is more than your little body can contain and your tiny little hands will shake as your sweet little face turns red and you SCREAM. The volume is pretty impressive, as is the pitch. You may well have a future as an opera singer, darling daughter, because the octaves you can achieve are rather extraordinary.

It is funny to me that you will never really know your father or I as we are right now. Our twenties will be present for you only as blurry memories and pictures that you laugh at as a teenager because my hair will be so old-fashioned and my clothes so ridiculous and your father so young and baby-faced. You won't remember this tiny little apartment that we brought you home to. We were so happy to have that extra little bedroom just waiting for you to fill it... so proud of our 900 square feet (which, if you don't know, is actually still rather small for 3 humans and 2 dogs)... SO thrilled about having a washer and dryer, even though they do sit smack in the middle of the kitchen. I spent hours on your nursery, painting with your Grandma Terri, picking the exact spot for each item of furniture and each little decal on the wall, trying to get it just right even though I had no idea that it was YOU there in my tummy. (It's funny to look at you now and realize that it was you in there all along... my little thumper, kicking away at my ribs during the evenings.) This has been a big year for your daddy and I, with graduations and new homes and, of course, you. I know you won't remember it, but it will always be a special and wonderful year in my memory and one I will find great joy in telling you about when you're old enough to want to know.

You are my first child and my first daughter, which means you have a special place in my heart that no one else will ever fill. There is nothing more precious to me than seeing your sweet, silly smile in the morning and your peaceful sleeping face at night. I can't wait to see what the next months bring.

I love you, little one.

Mommy

our closing (an illustrated telling)

2010-03-01T05:43:00.000-08:00

We arrived at the bank at 8:22am and pulled into a parking space directly in line with the drive through window, watching the little red light and waiting anxiously for it to turn green. Ke$ha's (ridiculous) (and awesome) song "Tik Tok" came on and I asked Joe if he had woken up that morning feeling at all like PDiddy. I don't think he had.

After depositing the check from sister-in-law, we requested our cashier's check, only to have the little bank man inform us that cashier's checks could only be given in the lobby... which opened at 9am. Which just so happened to also be the time of our closing.

So we waited in the parking lot.

And got some Jittery Joe's coffee from across the street. (And took a very bad picture of ourselves. 'Cause I like to document things and Joe thinks I'm odd.)

Finally 9am rolled around and Joe sprinted to the door as soon as they unlocked it. I watched the numbers on my cell phone clock change and felt the car getting colder as I waited...

And waited...

Until finally Joe sprinted back out of the bank and into the car... along with the cashier's check!

The very large cashier's check. (THOUSANDS)

Fortunately we were not far from the lawyer's office and made it there only about 15 minutes after 9. Everyone graciously told us we weren't too late, it was fine, they hadn't been waiting long (in other words, they lied).

And then suddenly... we were done. We had signed every piece of paper in Athens and then signed a copy of every piece of paper in Athens and then... we owned a house. The previous owners passed us keys and a garage door opener and we were done.

Did I mention the previous home owners were super nice folks? They left us this lovely gift at the house...

On our FIREPLACE. Yeah, we have one. We also have a yard. With a deck.

Y'all... we own a HOUSE.

crazy closing story #1

2010-02-25T18:00:00.000-08:00

I don't know how many of you knew this, but closing on a house is freaking expensive. Silly naive little me thought that if the sellers were covering the closing costs then that meant that they were... well... covered. Meaning A) you could no longer see them because they were underneath something, B) they had been topped with cheese at Waffle House, or C) they were taken care of. Mostly I assumed it was C. So imagine my shock, horror and dismay when I find that not only do we have to have money at closing (on top of what we paid for the home inspection (cause we had to pay for that too, fyi)), we have to have A LOT of money at closing. As in THOUSANDS of dollars. But Joe handles the money stuff in our little family, and he assured me that we would indeed have the necessary thousands (THOUSANDS) no sweat.

Joe was wrong.

Call it what you will... miscalculation, a mathematical error, ill-advised spending, bad timing... but we ended up a few hundred short. Fortunately we realized this ahead of time and I have a very cool sister-in-law who agreed to loan us the money until Joe got his next paycheck (at which time we will of course be rolling in dough). Money was transferred, problem was solved. Right?

Of course not, 'cause I'm writing a blog entry about it.

Due to some kind of mental issue on the part of the people who work at sister-in-law's bank, the "next day" transfer won't show up in our account until Monday. Which, for those who are keeping track, is 3 days after closing. So that doesn't so much work.

So to make a long story slightly shorter and get to the punch line... wanna know where Joe is right now? At 9:15pm the night before we close? Driving to Atlanta. To get a check from the same sister-in-law. Which we will then attempt to cash and deposit at 8:30am tomorrow, get a cashier's check for the amount we owe at closing, and hightail it to said closing at 9am.

Cause we live life on the edge, folks.

working on it

2010-02-24T06:31:00.000-08:00

So I asked some folks on facebook for suggestions for blog topics and I've been marinating on a few of them.

(Oop... hold the phone. Baby just pooped. Pooped and then grinned at me. So it's all good, but I still probably shouldn't let her (to reuse a good word) marinate in her own... you know.)

OK, clean baby. Where was I?

Ah yes, marinating.

Someone suggested writing about what "home" means to me now, but I think I'll save that for after we CLOSE ON OUR HOUSE on FRIDAY. Let's take a moment for that "holy crap"-ness to set in.*

Someone else suggested writing about my worst fears of parenting. Since it IS after all Weblink Wednesday, I will let this speak for itself. I just don't want to be those people.

Stephen said, and I quote: "Write about the dichotomy presented by the myth of the white man's burden, coupled with the ingrained manifest destiny of our cultural heritage."

And then I hit him.

*Lots more to come on the closing, home decorating, moving, and whether or not my marriage survives all of the above.

joy

2010-02-14T19:17:00.000-08:00

There are many things I was told to expect about motherhood that I have found to be "mommy mythology". The immediate flood of profound and unconditional love at birth. The sense of having your life immediately, irrevocably, completely changed as soon as the baby is in your arms. The mind-numbing exhaustion for weeks on end. The "instinct" that will override all uncertainty and panic. The simple, natural bond of breastfeeding (to this one in particular I bestow a big ol' HA). Not to say that I don't think these things happen to other women, but they certainly did not happen to me. I grew to love my daughter in a process that was full of both joy and frustration, pride and confusion. But there is one thing that I heard from a few sources (the most reliable of which being my own mother) that I can confirm as truth based on my own experience.

There is no feeling that compares to being on the receiving end of this:

shameless

2010-02-12T06:59:00.001-08:00

(The only reason I am blogging this is for the extra entry for myself. Just keepin' it real, folks.)

The Vintage Pearl blog, which we all know I LOVE from my previous Weblink Wednesday, is having a giveaway... you could win a $50 gift certificate. Then the only difficult thing will be deciding what precious thing to get... choices, choices, choices.

drumroll please...

2010-02-10T08:13:00.000-08:00

It's official... we're buying a house!!!

Better pictures to come... this one is just from the online listing.

Making this announcement reminds me in a way of when we found out we were pregnant... part of me wants to jump around and squeal with excitement, and part of me wants to curl up in a little ball in the corner. (I'm not so good with major changes...) Don't get me wrong, the house is going to be perfect for our first home... just enough space, a yard for the dogs, a safe neighborhood with lots of families. But it's yet another step that Joe and I are taking that proves we are now adults. We have our first baby and now we're moving into a home that we own and are responsible for. No landlord to call, no free maintenance repair service. It's a step I have been looking forward to for a while (and there really won't be a better time for us to buy), but like every big change in life it is a step forward that seems to call for a brief look back. I realized once we decided to go through with the purchase of this house that I have to shift the way I define myself in my own life. I have to embrace the new joys and struggles ahead of me by learning from the ones in my past, but not by holding onto them. While I am still my parents' daughter, I am now also my daughter's mother. While I will always be welcomed with open arms (and a very happy mother) into my childhood home, I now have the responsibility of creating a home for my child.

a book

2010-02-03T07:20:00.000-08:00

Last weekend we made the short trek out to Bogart to have dinner with my aunt Jane, cousin Morgan and her boyfriend Evan the Superhero. While waiting on dinner (a perk of having family close by... FREE FOOD), conversation turned to my blogging. Jane is arguably one of my biggest blog fans and apparently has even gotten some of her co-workers to read my ramblings. And every time we talk about my blog, Jane says the same thing:

"You need to write. No, REALLY write. Like... a book."

When I was young, my dad wrote all the time. Short stories, Christmas carol parodies for his co-workers, essays, and novels. I remember him having my Mom read his drafts and seeing the manuscripts with pen marks criss-crossing them like a road-map. And the bulky envelopes stacked on top of each other being sent to agents and publishers. And a cursor blinking at the end of a paragraph while I read what he had just written. I was certain that Dad would be a famous author. That some publishing company would one day, finally, send back a positive response. But it never happened. And for a while he seemed to give up on his writing, the manuscripts banished to closets and file cabinets. But, while he may have thought that he failed, he had succeeded in passing on his love of writing to me. On top of any assigned writing for my Language Arts classes, I wrote poetry and short stories and historical fiction. When I was at the peak of nerdiness, I even read one piece aloud to my Social Studies class. For fun. I was super popular, folks. But, like my dad, somewhere along the way my passion for writing got pushed to the back burner. I became invested in my ballet training, musical theatre, acting. In college I tried to start a blog but didn't keep up with it and eventually deleted it. I kept a journal of poetry for a while, some of which was actually decent, but then stuck it in a box of memorabilia and forgot about it. My mom wanted me to write a story about the farms we passed on the way to the beach (oh, Cows in the Woods...) that just never got anywhere. But then I decided to start this blog. And to keep me accountable, I shared it with my family and friends. And somewhere between documenting my life and trying to make people laugh, I remembered my love for writing. And what might even be the best part is that I think I inspired my Dad to start his own blog, reminding him of his old love of the written word. Talk about returning the favor. As thanks for helping me find my voice, I give my dad back his own.

So now, like father like daughter, I consider taking my writing to the next level. I'm daunted by the memory of my Dad's frustrations (the pen scrawling on rough draft after rough draft, the rejection letters in the mail), but inspired by his talent and perseverance. So maybe Jane is write... maybe my writing is a dream worth pursuing. Maybe I will find that I have something worth saying. And then maybe I'll write. No, REALLY write. Like... a book.

weblink wednesday! (no really)

2010-01-27T06:35:00.001-08:00

OK, so... I really did write this yesterday (on a Wednesday). I was so proud of myself for A) knowing what day it was and B) writing a blog entry that corresponded with that day... and then Blogger decided to have some kind of hissy fit. I couldn't post or comment on anything for the rest of the day. Which means it is now Thursday. But Weblink Thursday just doesn't have the same ring to it so... Basically what I'm saying is THIS IS ALL BLOGGER'S FAULT.

Anyway... here's your Triple Threat edition of Weblink Wednesday.

1. I really really like the JayZ/Alicia Keys collaboration "Empire State of Mind". It's got that kind of beat that makes you feel like you MUST bob your head. Or rock from side to side. Something vaguely "gangsta", if you will. So anyway, I thought this video was one of the best parody/remakes I've ever seen on youtube- it's funny, well written and recorded, and mimics the original song almost perfectly. And it's about my home state!

2. Stephen, provider of oh-so-many of my links to the amazing and ridiculous wonders of the web, shared this with me. AWWWWWW babies making silly faces... I'll post it on Laine's behalf. :)

3. When I got pregnant, I had this vision in my mind of getting some kind of charm necklace with names or initials of each of my kids as I had them. I hadn't been able to find anything that wasn't too cutesy or cheesy until I found this website for The Vintage Pearl through another blog I follow. Now I just have to decide... round or square? And maybe a baby spoon? ...

jargon

2010-01-26T10:41:00.000-08:00

When a real estate listing says "one bathroom restored to original retro look", what is really means is "the PINK tile on ALL of the walls AND the floor was in pretty decent shape (???) so I decided to leave it and just recover the tub". Which really means "sucks to be you, future homeowner who actually likes things from this decade/century".

Oh, and just because countertops and fixtures are "new" does NOT mean that whoever replaced the old ones has good taste.

Just FYI.

updates

2010-01-25T11:21:00.001-08:00

Laine has a new friend whom we have dubbed "Mr. Gerald" (who knows if that will stick once she can talk). I'd been trying to get her to bond with a "lovey"... or a moderately creepy blanket with an animal head on top of it. Definitely makes me feel all warm and lovey inside. But anyway, other moms I know swear by them as far as something to cuddle and comfort. But Laine had seemed totally unimpressed and uninterested by the 4 million loveys we have from all my baby showers... until Mr. Gerald. They seem to have bonded quite nicely.

The Challenge continues! I am sneaking up on the first goal (10 pounds) and feeling good. It was definitely difficult for me to change the way I shop and when/what I eat and what I crave and control portion sizes and yaddayaddayadda but now that it has been a few weeks I am feeling the difference and liking it. I've also gotten back into the gym for the first time, which felt great. I'm hoping to work something out so I can go while Joe is with the baby a few times a week.
Joe and I have made the big (HUGEENORMOUSGIGANTICMASSIVE) decision to look into buying a house.
We are going to buy a house.
We have to find a house that we both like and can afford. That has a yard.
Did I mention that stuff is happening about a house? But seriously, we realized that there really won't be a better time for us to buy than now, what with the buyer's market and the tax incentives and whatnot. We've done a lot of online shopping around and gone to see a few places and have 2 contenders so far. We're actually talking about putting in an offer on one of them... and that is when Joe starts to twitch and run around the house waving his arms around yelling "DEBT! DEBT! AHHHH!" and then collapse in a shaking little ball of anxiety. Or was that me?

better

2010-01-13T15:56:00.000-08:00

I think I was doing something completely mundane like brushing my teeth or putting on socks when suddenly it dawned on me that being a mother was making me a better person. It wasn't until I was trying to explain this thought to Joe that I realized just how true it was and in how many ways.

Everyone says that as soon as you hold your baby you fall completely and totally in love in a way that you have never felt before. That wasn't really true for me. Of course I felt awe and pride at the life that Joe and I created together and a fierce protectiveness of her as well, but it wasn't for a few weeks that I felt like I knew her as a unique little person and could truly say that I had fallen in love with her. The first moment I held her, though, I fell more in love with her father. Hearing and sensing Joe's anxiety and amazement as he encouraged me through labor, seeing the joy and pride and wonder in his eyes as she was born, hearing him yell through tears that we "had a Laine" to our anxious families in the hallway, watching him follow her around the room as she was passed from grandparent to aunt to friend, feeling the new depth of feeling he had for me in those first embraces and kisses as new parents... it was an entirely new experience for me as his wife to see him as a father. The first few days and weeks at home, he was constant and fervent in his encouragement and words of love and admiration. While he took some time learning how to love and interact with the tiny new girl in his life, he could not have done more to make me feel beautiful and strong (stretch marks and all) in the moments when I was feeling anything but that.

Having Laine has also brought me even closer to my family. Even though I already considered my immediate family to be very tight knit and loving, I feel that Laine has fostered an even deeper connection between all of us. Seeing my parents as grandparents and my sisters as aunts gives me yet another reason to love and admire them. Sharing the joys and fears and anxiety and thrill of motherhood with my own mother is a greater joy than I had even anticipated. Seeing my father and youngest sister joyfully capture her every moment in photographs and glow with pride and love whenever they hold her brings tears to my eyes. And having the blessing of my middle sister in the same town with us has been both helpful and special.

Personally, I find myself making better use of my time so that I can experience every moment with her to the fullest while still feeling like I am a priority in my own life. Now that she has settled into a more predictable schedule, I push myself not to always nap or veg out when she's sleeping, but to make time to work-out and eat regularly and to take daily showers (a real feat some days...), clean up the house, or prepare choreography for work. Even at the studio I feel more confident in myself as a teacher, remembering to really enjoy even my most stressful classes knowing that I have this brief time to work toward a different goal before I return home. And then when I get home, rejuvenated from a change of pace, nothing is better than seeing my husband holding my daughter on his lap as the dogs jump up to greet me.

So I guess what Laine has shown me is that I can be a better mother to her when I work to better myself. I know it won't be the last lesson she teaches me.

work it, baby, work it

2010-01-11T09:09:00.000-08:00

Adorable baby girl + new pink outfit with tulle + doting aunt* with mad skillz and an awesome camera = baby photo shoot!!!

This one is probably my favorite... check out that precious little dimple!

Little Miss Priss...

This is her Zoolander "Blue Steel" impersonation.

Who can resist a little baby bootie?

The extra band was given to me a few days after she was born... now I have a ring to symbolize our engagement, our marriage, and the beginning of our family. It makes me smile every time I look at it, but especially when it's grasped by a tiny hand!

*Thanks, Tricia!

new year, new stuff

2010-01-08T10:11:00.000-08:00

Happy 2010, readers! I hope your holidays were as joyful as mine. Because they truly were. I don't know what it was about Christmas this year, but my entire family seemed infused with an awareness of how special and important it was for us all to be together for the holidays. We kept the drama to a minimum (which is a feat for my family, as it is, I'm sure, for most every family) and the photography at the max. Cell phones were put away (or left at home ON PURPOSE in the case of my youngest sister... which was truly a Christmas miracle in and of itself) and Wii remotes were kept out on the coffee table for spontaneous battles (see video documentation of these here and here). I found such joy in my family this year and therefore the holidays were made that much more joyful.

Now that the new year is here, new things begin. The first is, of course, that it was time for me to return to work. I faced the first day back (this past Tuesday) with a lot of ambivalence. While I was excited to be moving and dancing and teaching again free of my pregnant belly, I also felt that I was going back in as a very different person. Would I still be the same teacher? Would the kids have enjoyed their sub so much that they were apathetic about having me back? Would I be able to commit the time I needed to choreography and preparations now that my mornings are filled with feedings and diaper changes and it's difficult to even make time to shower some days? After the first week I think I can safely say that my worries were unfounded. Laine is falling into a more consistent schedule during the days and I have done well so far with using her nap time to my advantage. My kids were more excited to see me than I expected (nothing like squeals and hugs from your students to boost your ego) and are so eager to hear about the baby as well as to get back into a regular ballet class routine. And I find that the time away from the studio has actually made me even better in the classroom since now I am eager to be there... it's the perfect balance in my day to have all morning with my little one and then get to go do the other thing I love most in the world while she gets daddy time!

The other new thing in my life is the Greer VS Tricia Weight Loss Challenge 2010! Tricia (the aforementioned youngest sister) and I both decided that we have changes we want and need to make with our bodies and our habits and so have made ourselves accountable to each other in the way we Smith girls do best- competition! While we definitely have been giving each other a hard time ("first day back at work? very stressful... go eat a twinkie!" "aren't you tired? I bet some sugar would perk you right up!"), we are also really rooting for each other to succeed in meeting our goals and leading healthier lives. I am definitely ready to kick this baby weight to the curb. Grocery shopping now, however, is much more difficult that when I was in the (I'm pregnant and can eat whatever I want" phase. Spinach and protein shakes are much less exciting to shop for than Halloween candy and Little Debbie cakes.

Don't worry though, Trish. I have a fridge full of spinach.

memo to all newborns

2009-12-21T13:48:00.000-08:00

MEMO

TO: Babies

RE: How to make your mother twitch

The order of the following steps is not set in stone, but the importance of completing each step can not be stressed enough if you want to achieve the desired results. Skipping a step could result in merely an eye roll or (worse yet) dismissive laughter. ALL steps are necessary to achieve maximum twitching.

STEP 1: Massive, smelly, disgusting poop. Make sure that you are positioned in such a way and use enough force that the poop blows out your diaper and extends all the way up your back, as close to the neckline as possible. Note: This step is most effective if you are wearing something that your mother deems especially "cute", even more so if it is new (say, just purchased and washed the night before).

STEP 2: Immediately after having your diaper and clothing changed, while your mother is holding you and selecting a new onesie, spit up. Make sure you aim so that an equal amount gets on her clothing and your face and body. Projectile is the goal here. You could wait until you are dressed if you also want to factor in the "extra laundry quotient", but being naked is fine.

STEP 3: Undoubtedly your mother will decide that you need a bath. You have two options here: you can pee while being carried to the tub, or wait til you are sitting in it. Both are effective.

STEP 4: Once you are clean, changed, dressed, and settled, spit up one more time. Only a little bit this time, not enough to warrant another change of clothes, but just enough to need cleaning. This last step generally ensures maternal twitching, but overdoing this step could cause more severe damage to your mother than desired, so time it right and be careful of the amount.

STEP 5: After all of this work, you have most likely achieved twitch and are probably exhausted. Take a nice long nap, but make sure to spit out your pacifier at regular intervals. Got to keep those moms on their toes!

weblink... wait, what day is it?

2009-12-18T14:49:00.000-08:00

It is long past time for a Weblink Wednesday, don't you think? (And even if you don't, just lie to me, ok? I'm very sensitive right now.) This one comes to you courtesy of Stephen (as many of them do... he has a lot of internet-surfing time on his hands, and for that we are all grateful). I would not be surprised if someone took this idea and ran with it.

Also, here is another (more flattering) picture of my little one. Little snoozy santa baby... doesn't get much cuter than that.

She was very excited about her encounter with Santa, can't you tell?

My New Year's resolution will be to get back into the blogging swing of things (watching Julie and Julia last night inspired me. Maybe I'll get a movie deal... you know how people love watching movies about dogs and baby poop...), but if you must have more blog RIGHT NOW you can go here to read about one of my favorite family Christmas traditions, or here to catch up on the "pregnant five" which is now actually only the pregnant two!

true life: i have a newborn

2009-12-04T08:57:00.000-08:00

thoughts on baby poop

2009-12-01T08:16:00.000-08:00

Because I am a new mother, and apparently poop becomes not only an appropriate topic of conversation, but a fascinating one.

1. There is something odd about a being that can only really relax AFTER it has pooped and is sitting in it.

2. If your baby does finally settle down after a successful expulsion of waste, is it cruel to leave her in what you know must be a nasty, disgusting diaper? I mean, she's sleeping. It must not be that uncomfortable.

3. Even when a baby is sitting down, poop still seems to travel upward. Onto her back. And therefore onto her onesie. Which you probably just washed.

4. Apparently you are supposed to try and maintain a pleasant expression while changing your baby's diaper so that they don't develop insecurities about their unmentionables or how they look naked or something. I'll just have to hope that my daughter understands that I think she is absolutely beautiful... only slightly less so when covered in slimy yellow poo. I would hope she will eventually be able to understand that distinction.

5. Parent's Choice baby wipes (Walmart's brand, I believe) are not as good as Pamper's. They also smell funny. Which is saying a lot when you think of what smells you have to compare them to at the time of their usage.

week 2

2009-11-23T08:34:00.000-08:00

I don't know how to write about my baby. I've kept coming back to my blog site whenever there is a quiet moment, knowing that I need to write something to document these first few weeks... my feelings, my fears, my wonder at this new little life that has entered the world and shaken everyone up. Each day seems to go by in slow three-hour blocks, and then suddenly I blink and it's been almost 2 weeks. She is nothing if not a lesson on the relativity of time. I know I will miss these times, even as some moments I fervently wish to skip ahead to when she can talk and tell me what she wants or needs. I try to freeze frame little snapshots of her in my mind...
curled up on her daddy's chest, sleeping with her mouth wide open (pacifier free... now THAT is real sleep);
lifting her wobbly head to try and look around the room, looking like a frantic little turtle;
squirming and fussing in her bouncy chair until suddenly inexplicably settling, her hands floating down like little spiders to settle by her sides, her head tilted at an impossible angle;
her feet pulled up close to her body so that the ends of her onesie are empty, making her appear footless;
swaddled like a little glow worm, only her head peeking out, lying right in the middle of her crib, making it look like a huge expanse of space relative to her tiny bundled body;
opening her eyes occasionally and seeming to really see that I am there, or recognize my voice among other voices, or calm down when she comes to rest on my chest... and feeling like a mother.

labor story

2009-11-14T09:10:00.000-08:00

Check out my (very long) labor story over at Sweet Tea and Strollers! I will be posting about Laine's first days of life soon... basically she is beautiful and perfect and awesome and you should all be jealous you don't get to hang out with her all day.

Oh, and also, go here and watch the newest video of Laine learning a very valuable lesson from her aunt Tricia.

battle of the bellies

2009-10-26T09:45:00.001-07:00

Is it just me, or do I look kinda like a raptor in that second picture? A pregnant raptor? A very short, pregnant raptor?

Wait... why did I decide to post this picture of myself?

PS- The lovely, non-raptor-like pregnant lady bumping bellies with me is Emily, the brain behind Sweet Tea and Strollers as well as author of her own blog, The Daily Duncan. We were lucky enough to be guests-of-honor (along with our husbands) at a Babies and Beer couples shower thrown by our husbands classmates in the University of GA MBA program.

sweet tea and strollers

2009-10-15T08:35:00.000-07:00

My friend Emily sent me an email recently asking if I would like to join her on a new blogging project along with 3 of her other pregnant friends. The idea is that the 5 of us will all contribute to one blog about anticipating, preparing for, and then experiencing first time motherhood. Of course I agreed, and I am excited to introduce you all to Sweet Tea and Strollers! All of us are due within the next few months, so the first entries are just introducing ourselves, our spouses, our relationship to Emily (since she is he founder and the one who knows all of us), and sharing how we are feeling as our due dates rapidly approach. Join us as we blog our way through pregnancy woes and joys, birth stories, baby pictures, and all of the anxieties and thrills of having a newborn!

nunya

2009-10-14T08:09:00.000-07:00

(As in: "nunya" business.)

Today I am one month away from my due date. (Which means that I could technically go into labor at any point starting next week and still be considered "full term", fyi. Due dates are so over-rated.) There have been many things that have surprised me about pregnancy, especially in my last trimester. How I can press on the top of my foot and it leaves a little indentation (Mom says its called "pitting edema" or something like that. I think it's called "fat feet disease"). How time can fly by and drag all within one day. How I can still teach my classes and feel confident that my students are learning, even with less than stellar demonstration from me. How much I miss lying on my stomach. How much STUFF a baby needs. But I think the thing that I has surprised me the most is how entitled people feel to comment on my pregnancy. Strange people. In grocery stores and fast food restaurants and parking lots.

Now, people warned me about this. Or at least mentioned that strangers would come up and touch me without being invited to do so. But it's not the touching that bothers me (and really, not many people have tried to "pet the baby" without asking me first, so it hasn't been as much of an issue). It's the unsolicited commentary and the endless repeated questions. I think I'm going to start wearing a sandwich board (with a hole cut out in the front, of course) that says:

DUE: November (the date is not important, people, but it is the 14th since you all need to mark it on your personal calendars).
GENDER: Unknown (Yes, on purpose.)
TWINS: No. It is one baby. Just one. In my massive stomach, there is but one child. Hard to believe?

That should cover the questions. As for the comments about how huge I am and how there have GOT to be at least 8 babies in there that were actually due last week. When people widen their eyes and say "November? A whole MONTH to go?" or (one of my favorite phrases) "you are about to POP, aren't you?". Or exhale loudly through their mouths in a way that seems to say "good luck with that" in a very insincere and obnoxious way. For them I will turn around to show the back of my sandwich board with a giant middle finger on it.

boo!

2009-10-07T10:34:00.000-07:00

So I don't know if any of you guys noticed this, but it is, in fact, October. No, you heard me right.

October. As in one month before November.

October. The month of candy corn pumpkins (there is no comma there on purpose... the pumpkin shaped candy corns are the BEST), apple cider, corn mazes, costume parties, and cooler weather- yes, even in Georgia!

There are only a handful of weeks left before the end of 2009 will be upon us, finding my little family, larger by one, sitting at the beach house and opening a time capsule full of memories from the New Year's that might have been the end of the world. (But wasn't... whew!). While part of me wants to race ahead- baby! holidays! time capsule!- part of me wants to stop time for a moment and take a deep breath. So much to look forward to often also means there is a lot to look back on. After October I will no longer be just a wife, daughter, sister... but a mother. My husband, my crazy friend from so many years back who asked the most ridiculous questions in history and ate all of the food out of my family's refrigerator and walked to my house in the mornings and threw rocks at the window to wake me up, is going to be a father. And of course once the baby comes time won't stop there... the baby will grow up and be an older sibling to more babies and many Octobers will come and go and more time capsules will be filled and opened and filled again for many more New Year's celebrations at the beach. So for now I am taking a moment to sit on my couch (forgetting for now that I am looking forward to the day when we replace it) in our new-ish apartment (forgetting for now that we will probably only be here for a few years before we move on again) and take a deep breath, looking back at not just 2009, but 2008 and 2007 and so on... (forgetting for now that eventually I will be taking a breath to look back to right now).

wanna go for a waaaaalk?

2009-09-29T08:34:00.000-07:00

I couldn't resist sharing this. Definitely the cutest thing I've seen on youtube since the "All the Single Babies" video phenomenon last week. I tried to recreate it with my two pooches and it was pretty hysterical. Next time I'll try to have my Flip handy and capture all the fun. Until then, you'll have to settle for the pug brigade.

stomp stomp clap

2009-09-24T10:56:00.000-07:00

Last night, Joe and I went to see Ingrid Michaelson at the Melting Point. We saw her last year at the 40 Watt opening for Matt Nathanson right after her single had been on the Old Navy commercial and she was starting to get a lot of radio play. At that point, she was only performing with one sidekick, Allie, and they did an incredible opening act. Actually, I think a lot of people came to see the show because she was the opener (maybe they did not yet know the wonder that is a live Matt Nathanson performance...). This time, she was headlining and SOLD OUT the Melting Point, which had to be a cool feeling. She also had a full band of 5 with her this time (including Allie) and her own terrific opening act that she discovered in a bar in NYC, Greg Holden (super cute, British accent, plays a mean guitar...). The entire show was fabulous and the Melting Point was a perfect intimate venue. Anyway, I didn't get many good pictures even though we did have an awesome view, but I did remember to take my handy-dandy Flip camera and got a few videos. This one is my favorite. Right beforehand, she had the whole band pose around her so that everyone could get the "perfect photo" ("Everytime I see pictures of myself on the internet I look like a big red mess... so hang on and we'll do this right..."). They posed like they were singing so that the photographer could take credit for capturing a special mid-concert moment. And then they played this fun little sing-a-long number. Doesn't it just make you want to be in her band? Look how much fun they have...

showers of all sorts

2009-09-23T07:59:00.000-07:00

It has been raining in Athens for approximately a week. Now, we Athenians can't really complain too much about our dreary rain situation since our Atlanta neighbors to the west are flooding and sinkhole-ing and generally experiencing much worse side effects from the rain than we are, but still. Constant grey skies and intermittent deluges have a way of bringing a person down. Especially when you check weather.com and see that it is supposed to stay that way for another week. That just stinks.

But fortunately there are other kinds of showers that have a much brighter, happier connotation and I have also been inundated with those! This past weekend was my second baby shower, hosted by my aunt Jane and my middle sister Chelsea, both of whom are exceptional hostesses. The food was amazing, the house was sparkling (but then... Jane's house is ALWAYS clean), the drinks were festive and kept full, and the gifts were piled in pretty stacks on the dining room table. And let me tell you, you don't know gifts until you've had a baby shower. I guess maybe it's comparable to Christmas for a 5 year old, where you unwrap and unwrap and ooh and aah and exclaim, and then realize when you finish that you are trapped inside a semi-circle of bags, tissue paper, and loot. And while the gifts are fabulous in their own right, it really is an amazing experience to be the recipient of not only so much STUFF, but so much love and support and encouragement. All of the people circled around me, some of whom had traveled for hours just to be there, were beaming just as hugely as I was each time I pulled out a cute little outfit or a basket full of baby shampoos and soaps. And each card exclaimed just how happy the gift-giver was for Joe and me and our baby-to-be, and what good parents we are going to make. I hope they understand that part of our ability as parents will stem from having them all behind us instilling confidence, offering advice, extending help when we need it. And of course, for giving us so much before the baby is even here!

When Joe and I were both home together that night, I gave him a tour through the boxes and bags, telling stories of who gave what and why. He got to work assembling the bookshelf and the pack n' play (nesting, I tell you) while I sorted and folded tiny shirts and pants and socks and placed them into drawers.

"How much more do we really need?" he asked, surveying the pile at my feet.

And while I knew he was referring to things still left on my registries, or newborn diapers, or tiny socks, I couldn't help but think that, really, he's right to ask. Because when you get right down to it, we don't need anything else at all.

But it would be nice if it stopped raining.

an observation

2009-09-14T08:49:00.000-07:00

Did you ever notice that chocolate desserts, especially at chain restaurants, are named frightful and terrible things? Chocolate Suicide... Death by Chocolate... Molten Meltdown of DOOM AND DESPAIR. Now, I don't know about you, but when I am considering a chocolatey, gooey, rich dessert, I do not want to be forced to order said dessert by asking for a meltdown. Or death. I'd rather ask for, say, a delight or a mountain of wonderment. But if they are trying to scare me away, then they must know that they will not succeed. I am female and pregnant and if I want my chocolate gooey goodness then I will ask for it by whatever named has been bestowed upon in it that little plastic booklet in the condiment rack. Chocolate Destruction of All That Is Good In the World? Yes, please. And just bring one spoon.

ch-ch-changes

2009-08-31T08:23:00.000-07:00

Big things are happening here in "twenty-something"-ville. Namely, remember how I've been talking about how my life has been kind of directionless and boring this summer? How there have been many days of nothing-to-do blues? Well today I find myself looking ahead a few hours to the moment where classes officially begin at the studio. I've been trying to decided how I feel about that moment. And the moments to follow where those classes continue to happen. Joe asked me if I was excited to go back to work and seemed unimpressed and unconvinced by my "uh... yeeeah" response, but I AM excited. Really and truly. I am so ready to get back to having a routine and a schedule and a purpose to my days. It makes the days where I have nothing to do really important, as opposed to dread-filled and monotonous. I am also ready to get back to my students, especially the ones who were begging for an extra advanced ballet class this year, even if it had to be from 8-9 on a Tuesday (I mean, who would not love to teach kids like that?).

But there is some anxiety as I sit here on the couch with my highlited class schedule beside me. And every year there is anxiety, because that is just who I am (I blame my mother. Sorry, Mom.) and I always feel a little antsy until I know exactly how everything is going to go down. But this year the anxiety is a little more... um... anxious. Mostly because of that whole having-a-baby-in-2-months-or-so thing. And that whole teaching-ballet-while-looking-and-feeling-kind-of-like-a-walrus thing.

So I tried to alleviate some of my anxiety by being PREPARED. Because I find in most instances it makes me feel better to know that, at least on my end, things are PREPARED. So I bought myself a pretty new notebook and some pretty new mechanical pencils (school supplies always help anxiety as well) and have been filling it with notes and ideas for new exercises and interesting combinations I found on youtube and syllabi for my younger students.

And this preparedness has helped. With the class part. Not so much the baby-coming part. For that though, I had my first baby shower this weekend. And talk about something making you feel more PREPARED... there is nothing quite like sitting in a newly-upholstered rocking chair surrounded by PILES of new baby stuff to make you feel like maybe you are actually getting ready to bring a newborn into your home. Not to mention being surrounded by women who are wonderful mothers and friends and role models, all smiling at you like they are just certain that you are ready for this and you are going to take these piles of stuff they have given you and do with them whatever it is you do when you are a mother and you will do it well, by golly. That amount of generosity and enouragement and faith really goes a long way in the preparation department.

But regardless of my state of readiness, both of these things are happening. Classes will start today, with children pouring into the studio in their new, clean leotards and their untied ballet shoes, some of them as anxious as I am, all of them excited. I will carry my new notebook and my case of CDs into the classroom and introduce myself as "Miss Greer" and slip back into the trappings of that part of my identity. The notebook will be helpful, probably more as a crutch and a reminder, and within a few weeks I will have forgotten what it's like to NOT be teaching every week.

And then, as the weather cools, my body will be doing its own work getting prepared. And my first child will make its debut into the world, greeted by tired, ecstatic, anxious parents, grandparents already so full of love and pride they could burst, aunts planning the millions of ways they are going to spoil and teach and play with their new little neice or nephew, and all of those women and men who bestowed gifts upon its mother ready to help when needed. And all of the stuff that is collecting in the nursery will be helpful, and will act as a crutch and a reminder, and within a few weeks I will have forgotten what it's like to NOT be a mother.

... except real

2009-08-27T17:58:00.000-07:00

Ok, I know I already posted my ridiculous linkage for the week, but I just couldn't resist sharing this goody that I found on one of my friend's facebook pages. Could this possibly, actually be for real?

In other news, I will (most likely) post an entry involving words and thoughts that do not link to a ridiculous video or webpage (maybe) in the next few days (probably).

hoff clone and possessed choir boys

2009-08-27T10:58:00.000-07:00

In honor of my previous Weblink Wednesday post, here are some videos pretty much guaranteed to make you "mad", Christin-style. Both are "literal videos", where some very bored, moderately clever internet geek took weird music videos and set literal lyrics to them. The "Total Eclipse" one is definitely the best I have seen, but the "Hooked on a Feeling" video (with none other than THE David Hasslehoff!) is really just so ridiculous... there are no words. Literal or otherwise. Enjoy!

(And I'm sorry, but no, you will never get back these 5 or 10 minutes of your life.)

(And yes, there are more literal videos. Lots.)

what day is it?

2009-08-19T12:29:00.000-07:00

Oh yes, that's right... it's WEBLINK WEDNESDAY!!!

(fanfare)

Let me introduce the link-o'-the-day by telling you a little bit about my dear friend Christin. I first met Christin when I was at an age where you don't really remember meeting people. So really, it seems like I have never NOT known her. We went to elementary school together, danced (and danced and danced) together, shared friends and drama and strife and woe together in middle/high school, suffered losses together, she was in my wedding... you get the idea. I've known this girl a while. And so it is funny to me when I was thinking about describing her in this blog entry that I find it a rather difficult thing to do. I think that is in part because there is SO MUCH Christin. Those of you who know her will know what I mean by that, and those of you that don't know her probably know someone else who fits that description. She is just always going and doing and thinking and creating and wondering and challenging and protesting and discovering... it's wonderful. And a bit exhausting for her, I'm sure. So basically she's just a wonderful fireball creative force to be reckoned with. Who happens to be half Puerto Rican... and a fair skinned redhead. (See what I mean? SO MUCH Christin.)

So this fireball friend of mine recently started a blog. And you know how I love me some blogs. But this is not your typical "here is what I did today and how I feel about it" kind of blog, which are the kind I tend to gravitate to. No, this is a blog started by Christin. And therefore it must be... unique. So her blog is filled with things that might make a person "mad". But not the kind of mad you're thinking of. More in a "this is so ridiculous I can't even stand it and now I am MAD about it" way. It makes sense in a way that things that Christin comes up with make sense... you gotta see it.

six

2009-08-17T14:01:00.000-07:00

Six years ago, I was working at GapKids, folding and re-folding (and re-folding...) tiny t-shirts and jeans and re-stocking jelly sandals and baby hats.

Six years ago, I was in between my first two years at Berry, feeling more comfortable with the idea of being a college student but still tied to my home in Augusta.

Six years ago, I was redefining myself within my relationships, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse.

Six years ago, I got a phone call from my father. I left mid-shift, probably mid-shirtfold, at GapKids, rushed to the home that was still my home although I only lived there for a few months of the year, and was faced with news that would change how I defined myself forever.

Six years ago, I had to make a lot of phone calls to share the news that I didn't want to believe, let alone pass on.

Six years ago, I lost one of the most amazing and talented people I have ever known. Someone who I looked up to like a brother, respected as an artist, and loved as one of my dearest friends.

And today, six years later, I miss him still.

beach babies

2009-08-13T07:53:00.000-07:00

This past weekend marked yet another pregnancy/life milestone for me... my final vacation as a free and independent woman with no one to worry about but herself and maybe a dog or two. The absolute truth of that statement was put into extreme focus for me by the fact that I shared said vacation with my two lovely friends and their adorable 6 month old baby girl. First let it be said that there are few things more delightful than happy baby, let alone a happy baby at the beach discovering that big old bathtub that is the ocean.

But I did have moments when I realized just how different my future vacations would be. As I watched the Bridges family experience their first beach trip together, I couldn't help but catalog all of the ways that the very meaning of the word "vacation" changes from pre- to post-baby.

1. Packing. Gone are the days of shoving summer clothing and a bathing suit into a duffel bag (although I'm not really sure that Katie ever could have packed that way... still.). Due to car difficulties, we were forced to find ways to cram an unbelievable amount of stuff into small spaces, which only made it even more abundantly clear just how much STUFF we had to take. There's the diaper bag and the pack-and-play and the bumbo seat and the bouncy chair and the stroller and the car seat and the other bag and the suitcase... And I stood there studying my bag of dog food and my duffel bag fondly, realizing that they would soon just be one of many bags being stuffed into the trunk whenever we travel.

2. Driving. Again, because of car issues this became more of a problem for us than it might have been otherwise. But the fact that both Katie and I were lusting after VANS is very telling. And you can't just up and leave whenever the mood strikes you either... there is some serious scheduling to be considered.

3. Sleeping in. It doesn't happen. Which is just a sad, sad thing.

4. Eating out. A leisurely, quiet meal at a river-side cafe is very different when you throw a baby in the mix. Of course since she's so stinkin' cute a number of people have to come up and tell you how stinkin' cute she is. And then there is the pacifier throwing and the squealing and the "Wait... what time did she eat? Do you think she's tired? Have you checked her diaper?".

5. Relaxing on the beach. After slathering on sunscreen in triple-digit SPF, loading a wagon full of chairs and an umbrella, and treking down to the shore, I usually look forward to a good couple hours of sitting and doing nothing, perhaps interrupted by a stroll along the waterline. But you have to consider diaper changes and eating schedules and how hot the baby might be, even in the shade of the wobbly umbrella, and whether or not the stroller will roll well enough on the sand. This got me to thinking about the time in the not so distant future when we have not just babies with us but KIDS. Kids who can TALK and WALK and express their needs and wants and opinions and tell you that they are BORED with sitting. I have a feeling that will be an even longer blog entry...

6. Leaving to go back home. Katie and Stephen were already discussing plans for a "real vacation" when they could leave the baby with grandparents. So they could do some of that wonderful sleeping in, eating out stuff. I wonder if my parents have plans for next summer...

baby steps

2009-07-29T07:55:00.001-07:00

Thanks to the quick delivery of Million Dollar Baby brand furniture from Rattles and Rhymes, and to the help of Stephen (without whom said furniture would still be sitting in the loading area of said store) and his trusty truck, we now have a crib and combo dresser in what was before being used as a very large storage closet. And a lot of cardboard remains in the living room...

While Joe may not get as emotional about these milestones as I do (his new favorite phrase is "I'm excited about the BABY, not the baby's STUFF"), he was definitely a champion about assembling setting up the furniture. (Although we did hit a bit of a wall when he wanted to know why the dresser couldn't go on the same wall as the crib to make it easier to get from one to the other ("I might drop it en route or something")... (shudder + eye roll)... in a tiny room. The man just does not understand aesthetics.)

PS- For your Weblink Wednesday, I will share with you a community resource I stumbled across the other night and am very excited about... Unless you're pregnant and in Athens, it is not of much use to you, but hey, this is my blog. So there.

mirror, mirror on the wall

2009-07-21T07:58:00.000-07:00

For very nearly my entire life, I have been surrounded by mirrors. I started ballet classes when I was 4, and from that point on I spent anywhere from 1 to 6 days a week in a large, empty room with full-length mirrors lining the wall. For some women, I'm sure this would sound like an absolute nightmare scenario... something akin to What Not To Wear's dreaded 360-degree mirror where they tell you just how awful you look (and most people tend to agree... I mean, how can you fight it when you can see your own awful-ness from every angle?). And of course there were times in my teen years where everything I saw in that mirror needed to be fixed. As a classically trained dancer, you are always checking the mirror to see what is wrong with the placement and positioning of your body, or how much higher your arm or leg should be. As a teenager, you start also noticing how much more narrow everyone else's hips are, or how tight that leotard is on your posterior regions, or how your legs would look so much better if they were just a little bit skinnier. I always tell people that it is amazing to me that I disliked my body so much more then, at my very skinniest (and I was VERY skinny at points in my life) than I did as I got into college, even though I didn't maintain my ballet physique.

But even though I was hard on myself as I progressed in my ballet training, I also got used to looking at myself in a very detached and analytical way. I was familiar with my body and what it could and couldn't do. I knew how to push myself to the limits of my physical capabilities. And as a ballet teacher, that has helped me to better understand my students, to learn their bodies and help them see how much farther they can push themselves without injury and with the result of a double instead of single turn, or a high grande battement to the side.

As I re-entered the studio these past few weeks, I wasn't sure how my teaching style was going to need to change as I become bigger and bigger. I'm pleased that I feel I can still teach in mostly the same way, just by pacing myself a little differently and not demonstrating with quite as much fervor as I might have before. However, I hit a wall when I tried to participate in the jazz and lyrical classes taught by our guest teachers for the weekend. My body just would not cooperate with me. I felt unwieldy and awkward... the movement was more frustrating than enjoyable. My hips were tight and my legs were heavy and everything just felt very foreign as I tried to move it. I'm disappointed to say that I pretty much just gave up on that first day, slightly shocked by the realization that for once I did not know or control my body.

Initially, my reaction was frustration and disappointment and even a little resentment. I let myself be upset for a little while, but the next day I woke up determined that I would participate in at least one full class, dancing to the best of my ability, proud to be able to do ANY of it while nearly 6 months pregnant. And I did. I strutted and kicked and turned my way through a jazz routine to "Poker Face" and it actually felt good. I moved differently, and my balance was off in my pirhouettes, but I was dancing. And I was dancing with my first baby. And as I checked my positions in the mirror, I thought that although it is not a body that I am used to, and it is very different than I have looked before, it is, in it's own way, beautiful.

home improvement

2009-07-12T09:05:00.001-07:00

Joe and I are both experiencing the nesting drive in very different ways as we settle into our new home and prepare for our new baby. None the less, although Joe may try to deny it, he too has been nesting. And as some of you may remember, nesting to Joe is a very dirty, no good word full of hidden and mysterious meaning.

For me, the need to make this new apartment a home has manifested itself in a number of ways. I have been much more diligent about cleaning now that I have such a lovely grime-and-dust-free slate to work with (we'll see how long that lasts... come back to me in a few months or so...), and also since my mother was kind enough to introduce me to the wonder of the 360 Swiffer. I have re-organized the closets since they were basically just convenient dumping grounds upon moving in and there was no floor or shelf space left in the nursery closet at all... I'm not sure, but I figure the baby might have some stuff that needs to go in there eventually. But the farthest my need to nest has led me so far is to Home Depot. I had seen some kind of home improvement show when I was in Augusta (that magical place where they have cable television) where they kept some existing counter space in a breakfast room and just stuck some tile on it to make it look fancy. This got me to thinking about the cheap little Ikea tables that we got to replace our chewed up coffee table. While I love having two smaller, moveable tables, they are not the sturdiest of things and were already getting scratched up by our laptops. In a flash of HGTV-inspired brilliance, I decided that I would tile said tables. And what is the most miraculous thing about this story is that I ACTUALLY DID IT. I went to Home Depot and batted my eyes at the tiling dude. He walked me around the flooring department tossing things at me and telling me what to do with them (Acryl-Pro, pre-mixed grout, scrape-y tools and smear-y tools, sponges, etc.) I laid out my little tiles squares on the tables, stuck them in place, grouted and cleaned them, and then stepped back and by golly if I had not pulled a friggin' Tim Allen or Martha Stewart or something. There might have a little extra white tile goop around the edges, but I'll be damned if those things wouldn't be selling for 50 bucks at Pier 1. (I'm a trifle pleased with myself...)

Now we come to the Joe part of the story (I know you've all been waiting, but I had to get my self-tiled-table story in here somewhere). While I was watching HGTV, Joe was hunting in his parents' house for his idea of the perfect addition to our home: a dartboard. Complete with fancy two-door wooden case with chalkboard score charts on the inside. Because I am a kind and loving wife, I agreed to to let Joe find a place for the dartboard in the living room. While some people might just pick a wall and hang the darn thing, Joe got on Google and found all of the appropriate measurements for a regulation dartboard: how high on the wall, how far from the throwing point, etc. Of course, being a man, he did not take into account what other items occupied the wall he chose and thank goodness I stopped him before he hung the thing right smack-dab up against a bookshelf where one of the fancy little doors couldn't even open all the way. Then, out came the measuring tape to figure out where the appropriate throwing spot would be in relation to the board. Fortunately, the place where our linoleum entry way meets the carpet is less than two inches off from regulation distance. Perfect and convenient, right? WRONG. Regulation is LAW, folks. And that means, silly wife, that we put TAPE on our new clean floor. For a DART GAME, we put TAPE on the FLOOR. I will let you deduce whether or not that happened.

So here we are, a few days later. The dartboard hangs in its place of honor and the tiled tables stand proudly in front of the couch. And while I am considering the layout of the nursery furniture, Joe is wondering if there is some kind of wall-mounted storage system for the hacky-sacks he has pulled out of their long hibernation.

watch the ads and it's almost like paying...

2009-07-01T19:18:00.000-07:00

Weblink Wednesday! I almost forgot that I actually have a fantastic link to share, which was sent to me by one of my college roomies. She knows me so well... a video that combines my passions for online social networking and musical theatre... *sigh*. It's like finding the Holy Grail or something.

halfway

2009-07-01T14:02:00.000-07:00

The beach trip was fantastic and you should all be jealous that you weren't there. It was hot, it was sunny, the tide was high at just the right time, and the sunscreen was flowing in abundance. Oh, and of course there was chocolate. From the Chocolate Tree. Cause really, those of you who have been there, is there any other chocolate after you have had the experience of The Tree? Not really, no. BUT I am glad to be home, and the dogs were very happy to see me (kinda left me wondering what Joe DOES to them... or doesn't do... when I'm gone for so long...).

I have hit a few pregnancy milestones, namely that I am now officially halfway through this whole being pregnant thing. That means in about 4 and a half to 5 months, I will be blessed with a little squalling bundle to call my very own (and Joe's). As of right now, if it is a girl it will be a nameless little squalling bundle, but still. (We have options... we just can't narrow it down to ONE name. For the one child... that might be a girl.) Very exciting. I also no longer fit into any normal, non-stretchy or longer-in-the-front-than-in-the-back clothes and have had a few strangers ask me when I'm due. Now that is a weird occurrence the first time it happens. You get so used to having to tell people that you're pregnant, your brain kinda stops for a second in panic mode thinking "how do they know??? who told them??? how does this person know my life???" before you realize that you look like you're smuggling a canteloupe.

Cause I do now. That's the other milestone. I LOOK pregnant. And I swore I wouldn't be one of "those" people, but I may just have to do one of those profile shots showing off my new silhouette cause it is crazy. I'm very intrigued and amused and afraid and in awe of my little morphing body. It's amazing what we women-folk are engineered to do (well, I guess the ones among us who choose to and are blessed with the ability to procreate... don't want to step on anyone's toes here...).

In other, non-baby related news, I may join the ranks of the somewhat employed for a few weeks in July. My bosses want to have some summer classes for some of our new, younger company members. As you can probably tell from my last scintillating post, I am really looking forward to the change of pace and to having something meaningful to do with my day. Not that conversations with four legged companions about my opinion of how slimy Wes is on The Bachelorette isn't meaningful, but you get my drift...

heave ho

2009-06-25T08:06:00.001-07:00

Here we go. I am going to write a blog entry.

Ready everyone?

I don't know... you don't look ready.

(Ok, took up sufficient space with that... now then...)

But seriously, I don't know what has kept me from blogging of late. I kept coming to the page and even sometimes clicking on the "new post" link, and then I would stare at the blinking cursor for a few minutes before shaking my head and going back to facebook. Once I even typed a few sentences! It could be that my life is simply not very blog-worthy right now. While I have enjoyed the break from teaching and the flexibility to make plans whenever I want, I have to admit that the unemployed lifestyle is a bit monotonous. My day usually starts off something like this:

9:30am - Wake up and try to force myself to sleep a little bit longer, cause really, what else is there to do in the morning? Not to mention I want to take advantage of the ability to sleep in for these last few months before it can never happen again.

9:45am - Finally succumb to the dogs staring at me plaintively from their kennels and my own need to visit the restroom and haul myself out of bed.

9:50am - Pick out the days pair of stretchy pants. Ah, pregnancy.

10am- Wrangle the dogs, feed the dogs, spend some time talking to the dogs.

10:30am- Computer time begins. This can last for a while. There are facebook status changes to make, blogs to read, emails to check, youtube videos to watch. If there are episodes of The Bachelorette (or Here Come the Newlyweds... or Lost... or Cupid...) to catch up on, that can be my entire morning. Sad? Maybe. But plenty of people waste away the summer watching bad TV. Right? RIGHT?

And then I usually invent some errands to run or brave the heat and take the dogs to the park. Lately I've been spending some time at the pool in the afternoons when it is just to hot to do anything else. Oh and I can do laundry now since we have a washer and dryer, so that's always exciting. Or dishes. If I'm lucky I have an obedience class in the evening or a doctor's appointment in the afternoon...

Oh, I'm sorry. You've fallen asleep. See what I mean?

Well, lucky for you, blogfans, I am going to the beach this weekend. This makes you lucky for two reasons: 1) I will be unable to blog for that period of time since the beach house is a place of no internet (and after this entry, you will probably be ok with that...), and 2) Interesting things happen on vacation! So I might have stories to share with you! And there might be pretty pictures! Oh gosh, it's enough to make me want to get up off the couch and dance around... But it's only 11:15. Computer time isn't up yet.