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South of our house is a giant farm with a pumpkin patch. In the fall, they open up on the weekends for people to bring their kids to see the goats and sheep and cows and chickens. They set up a maze in the cornfield, and they pile up hay bales in one of the barns for another maze. They have horseshoes and bean bag tosses and giant checker games. There was a slide for the kids, and little tractors for them to ride. And don't forget the giant tractor rides for the whole family. Clearly, this place was set up for a fun time.
The house itself was built just before the Civil War. They had a couple of cabins and sheds and several barns all around. It was a huge patch of land, and despite the hundreds of people enjoying the gorgeous fall afternoon with us, I really liked all the room. It was one of those days when you think, wouldn't it be great to have a farm and all that land to yourself, and just spend your days working at home?
And then you think of milking cows on Christmas morning, and those rainy days when getting out seems like the last thing you want to do, and you realize farm work is way harder than your cushy day job.
But for a little while it was a nice dream.
Here's Helen tossing the beanbag:
And here she is, about to go down the slide for the 30th time:
And here she is, enjoying the farm:
This entry is for S., my roommate in college and still one of my closest friends. S. hails from jolly old England. Freshman year she told one of our hallmates that they all wore black on 4th of July.
Is it any wonder we're friends?
After the time in the dorms, we shared our first apartment together. We mainly cooked for ourselves, and it was junior year that I learned about her favorite meal: baked beans on toast.
This meal really tested the bonds of friendship, not to mention my gag reflex. Even though I grew up in the southern United States, I can't eat baked beans. They're a staple at every family reunion, church picnic, and most barbeque joints. And I have passed them up every time. Something about them just tastes wrong to me.
And there was S., putting them on toast! Of course it got all soggy, but she loved every bite. Later I learned it's not just S. who eats this odd meal; it's a well-known favorite of English folks everywhere, from childhood on. Yuck!
To be fair, I think that's how she felt when I ate all those Kraft dinners.
I know Helen has eaten baked beans at school, because I've seen the words "Beanie Weenie" on her lunch calendar. But that's the American version, with cut-up hot dogs. It's a meal with enough sodium to rival your saltshaker. Minus the hot dogs, I thought I'd finally give the beans a try at home with her. Something about having a kid - you get to correct all your own food mistakes. Maybe this one will eat all the asparagus I never did. Or maybe she'll like lima beans. You never know. Baked beans? Why not?
And of course, the whole time she was eating them, she kept saying "Mmmmm!" She finished the bowl and asked for more.
All right, Helen, I'll refill the bowl - but you can't pay me to add the toast.
UPDATE: She just ate a whole crumpet. Now we'll have to move to Liverpool!
I realized that I've left you all hanging on the TV update. It's installed and sitting pretty above our mantel.
But Brian noticed right away that the high definition channels weren't as crisp as they could be - definitely not what we saw in the store. When the images on the screen moved, the picture got very pixelated. And the regular channels weren't very good at all. The blue TV did regular channels much better.
Some moron at the customer service center tried to tell us that's what TV looked like in larger sizes. Yeah, right.
Anyway, this Friday someone's coming out to replace the video board. So hopefully, I'll be able to tell you next week that the TV looks fantastic and we're loving it.
But really,in spite of it all, that's already happening.
Yesterday Helen and I went to Target. Daycare takes the kids out twice a day, and it's getting cold enough here to need a coat. Helen has grown a bit since last winter, so we needed to go shopping.
It's never a good idea to let me into a Target supervised by only a 17-month old.
Helen is now the proud parent of a Fisher Price baby. She held that doll all the way to the register, where there was a bit of a struggle to get it scanned. There was an even bigger struggle when we got home and I tried to get the doll out of its packaging.
The baby came with a little bottle, and after spending a lot of time (at her insistence) "feeding" the baby, I've taught her how to do it. I tried to teach her how to "burp" the baby, but she just hugs her instead. 
Email exchange from last month:
To: X, Y, Z
From: Me
Subject: This weekend
Vandy is a 33-point favorite to win, over a Division 1 school? Granted, it's Temple, but still!
From: Z
To: X, Y, Me
Subject: Re: This weekend
Early prediction: Vandy loses.
From: Y
To: X, Z, Me
Subject: Re: This weekend
Vandy by 42.
From: Me
To: X, Y, and Z
Subject: Re: This weekend
With all these predictions, someone should pony up and be the bookie!
From: X
To: Y, Z and Me
Subject: Re: This weekend
Helen. She cannot go to jail.
From: Me
To: X, Y and Z
Subject: Re: This weekend
This is the first time Vandy has been this big of a favorite since Vegas started keeping up with the data. I might put money on this game.
From: X
To: Y, Z and Me
Subject: Re: This weekend
You need to let Helen stand on her own. She needs to spread her wings and fly. Like a bird. A glorious bird, who takes bets.
You can only hold on to them for so long.
From: Me
To: X, Y and Z
Subject: This weekend
Helen would make a terrible bookie. She'd spend it all on Twizzlers. She really likes Twizzlers.
Mounting a TV over the fireplace means figuring out how to hide those pesky cords. So Brian spent Monday night drilling a couple of holes in the wall for power cords and cables. Actually, he spent some of early Tuesday morning on that project, too. But he finally conceded to the Carpentry Gods that the drilling was not going to work without the right drill bit.
So, after a trip to Home Depot, Tuesday night's work went a lot faster. He made it through 2 studs to bring the cord down to an outlet he created next to the mantel, and after I went to bed, he put up part of the mounting bracket for the television.
(I would put up pictures of this stuff, but right now the hard working crew at Blogspot is out for a manicure. So I'll try to edit them in later.)
He also created a second outlet for the satellite dish hookup and the phone line. That required a trip to the crawlspace, to pull the lines from the current location across the living room to the new spot.
For those of you who have not visited your home's crawlspace before, I learned an important fact on Tuesday night. Brian came back from his trip under the house and shared with me that we had "millions of spiders."
Now, I don't know about you, but I get the heebie-jeebies whenever I see a bug. As a kid, I was not typically afraid of bugs. I carried around roly-polys, I played with caterpillars, I watched ants scurry around, but a chance encounter in a bathroom with a cockroach the size of my foot changed all that in a hurry.
And for many years I've owned a cat who delights in taking care of any pest problem I might have, and even tortures them, too. So, at the end, there's no more bug, and as a bonus, it's died a horrible, lingering death. It's a win-win in my book.
But now, I have to sleep each night on a bed which stands on a layer of carpet and plywood subflooring and wooden joists, knowing that mere inches below all of that lies a breeding, teeming layer of spiders.
(Sorry - did I mention sleep? My eyes aren't actually shut. It's more like a panicky, "eyes wide open" look.)
Back to the project! On Wednesday night, which should have been the easiest of all, it took 3 hours and another trip to Home Depot to get one lone cable through the brick outside of the house, into the crawlspace and up through the floor. As a bonus, tonight Brian will get to re-crimp the cable since one end didn't survive the trip through the brick wall.
I'm now taking bets as to how many more trips to the hardware store are left in this project. Please feel free to make your guesses in the comments. The winner gets a free consultation with an experienced TV installer, who may or may not be deathly afraid of spiders.
Last year we bought a gigantic Zenith television for an absolute steal at a friend's employee pricing sale. Brand-new DLP TV, more than 60" of viewing pleasure, with a few good reviews already online.
But about 5 months later, we noticed a small blue streak along the lower left-hand corner. The manufacturer's warranty was only 90 days, so we were pretty worried that there was some very expensive going wrong with our gorgeous TV.
After a bit of Googling, it turns out we were right to worry - the light engines were defective in this model. Reviews were scathing by this time as most owners were seeing the problem, and since they paid retail, I can understand their wrath. By then Zenith was well aware of the defect, but since it was outside of their warranty period, they were only too happy to replace the part after you gave them quite a lot of money first. Money which we didn't really want to spend, not knowing if the new part was also defective.
In the meantime, our TV screen turned more and more blue. For a while, it held steady at about half the screen. But eventually, it went ALL blue. This is a picture of the Monday Night Football game, to show you what we've been watching:
Fun, huh? It means every team plays on Boise State's blue field. It means having conversations like "Who's in the dark uniforms? Georgia? Okay, got it."
We got a quote to repair it, but the estimate was a bit shocking. Not willing to spend more to fix the TV than we bought it for, we hemmed & hawed for months. Finally, we decided to cut our losses and go for a new TV. Brian shopped and read reviews and talked to the guys at Circuit City and Best Buy. Then he'd come home and tell me all about it.
Plasma. LCD. DLP. Rear-projection. Warranties. Surround sound. Receivers. HDMI cables. Satellite dishes. My head spun.
But after 8 months (!), Brian finally settled on one model. He took me to look at it, I loved it, and he proceeded to swing a fantastic deal, along with a 5-year warranty. Plus (you'll have to take my word for it), it's really pretty.
But it's going to take a lot of work to put that thing on the wall.
(to be continued)
One of my college roommates got married yesterday. C. has found the love of her life and decided to settle down with him. After watching the two of them at their reception, I think they'll be supremely happy.
She & I reconnected after I moved to town a few years ago to be with Brian. I knew she was from this area, but didn't know she was still here after we all went our separate ways at graduation. So imagine my surprise when I was headed to my car after work one day and saw her standing on the sidewalk. Once we recognized each other, I think the squealing could be heard a couple of blocks away. Now we "do lunch" at our favorite little restaurant nearby and spent a little quality girl time catching up on all the latest news.
The wedding was very small - just family and a couple of friends. I felt very privileged to be invited, and best of all, I finally got a chance to meet her parents. Lovely people. Her dad and her new husband both tried pretty hard to get the dirt on our college years, but since most of my stories implicate both of us, I kept my mouth shut.
Much love and congratulations, C. - Brian & I wish you many happy years together!And no, I won't post that picture of C. dressed like an early 80s Madonna for a frat party. Your dad offered money, which is tempting, but no. ;)
Our friend W. is in town this weekend for a golf tournament. W. was stationed in the Navy at Pearl Harbor a few years back, and graciously allowed us to stay in his home for a week-long vacation to Hawaii.
Now W. is stationed in DC. More administrative work than boat duty, but he's in DC, so there's a normal routine and a nightlife. He's single and young and clearly quite unsure what to think of a weekend with a married couple and a baby. The highlight of our evening is watching Helen run around the living room. For those of you who remember your single years, you may be thinking, "Yeah, just give the man a drink already."
On our trip to Hawaii, this guy took us to one of the best karoke bars in Waikiki Beach, where 99 cent mai-tais encouraged the guys to sing "I Want It That Way" by the Backstreet Boys. Tonight, Helen kept pulling up her shirt to show us her belly button.
I'm sure he'll carry these memories of domestic bliss with him for a long time after this weekend is over.
It's September - time to shop for back-to-school clothes! Remember getting in the car with your mom and your little sister to go shopping, just a little bit peeved because you could have gone to the pool one last time? Remember picking out new shoes that hurt your feet, and those dark, stiff jeans? Remember having a hard time trying on sweaters when it was still 100 degrees outside? Remember spending several hours arguing with your mom over what you really wanted to wear?
Yeah, Helen's only 15 months old. This year, no argument from her on clothes shopping.
I especially love those jeans. They fit her in the belly but they're WAY too long. So I had to cuff 'em.
But I noticed something weird last night - when I took the jeans off so she could take a bath, her legs were this weird shade of blue. Turns out the dye on the jeans had rubbed off on her skin.
Did anyone else's mother buy them new clothes for school that turned them into a Smurf? Just wondering.
Sunday the Wyatt family went to the zoo. It's a pretty nifty place, designed more as an animal preserve than a zoo. There are lots of walkways through shaded forests or bamboo jungles, with wide open spaces for the larger animals. The selection of exhibits are fewer in number than most zoos, but it's a quality place, and we enjoyed the afternoon.
My favorite part of the place is the elephant savannah. They have a huge field built up with rocks and ponds and shaded areas for the elephants to wander around, and a nice path for the visitors encircles it with several different viewing areas to choose from, depending on where the elephants might be. We lucked out and spotted them close by at the first spot we stopped, so I pulled up the stroller to the fence, leaned down and pointed at the three large grey elephants nearby. "Helen," I said, "Can you see the elephants?"
"Noooooo ..." she replied.
I point again. "There they are, Helen, can you see the elephants?" Again: "Noooooo ..."
I lean down and try to look through the fence from her vantage point in the stroller. Maybe there's a fence post in the way, or she's too far down to see them uphill. Nope, she's got a great view. Two handlers come out, apparently to walk the animals around, and as they start to move, I point them out again. She's watching, but always saying, "Noooooo ...:
The exact same thing happened at the giraffe exhibit, and the tiger exhibit. The only animals she really "saw" were the meerkats. She kept meowing and woof-woofing at them.
I've decided that "Noooooo ... " must actually mean "Yes, that's a perfect view, Mommy, and thanks for pointing it out to me" in toddler-speak.
I had to adjust my high expectations for our trip to the zoo very quickly. She was old enough to pay attention, but the things I thought would interest her, she didn't even notice. The things that I didn't see, I could hardly peel her away from. Like, she was absolutely thrilled by the sight of water. A small rushing stream near the lemurs, or a pond near the petting zoo - didn't matter. It was water, and she wanted to look at it. Same with pulling leaves off all the bushes that we passed by, or watching the other kids nearby. And Helen loved the swings in the children's play area. I couldn't believe my camera got pictures of her in the swing, but it came through in a big way.
Good thing it didn't cost us anything to bring a child under 3 to the zoo. Next time, I'll save the gas money and just lead her outside to the water hose. 
It's been about 2 weeks since the mortifying conversation with the daycare teacher about Helen needing to have rules.
It was a pretty rough week after that - she spent most mornings at school crying, wanting her pacifier, asking for a morning nap that they don't allow. That was frustrating for everyone.
So I spent last weekend making sure Helen stuck to the daycare schedule, instead of taking an extra morning nap. Voila! Much happier kid the next week at school. Several days I called to check on her, and she was definitely improving.
Those of you unfamiliar with daycare may not know that the babies get daily reports. Every day since she was 8 weeks old, I've taken home a report on the day's activities:
With the report, the parents know what the child ate, what the diapers were like, and how long they napped.
I found out quickly how important it is to know this stuff, because Helen will sometimes eat very little at lunch and then proceed to chew my arm off when I get home. Check the report - "ate very little of my main item." Hmm. Got it. Helen, I'm cooking it at light speed, sweetie. Stop gnawing on my elbow.
Last week, the notes along the side had included details from her teacher about being cranky, crying or asking for her pacifier. This week, the notes were a little nicer. Then, there was Friday's note:
That teacher, I'm not sure if she was giving us a compliment, or simply toying with me. Either way, Brian & I laughed a lot. LISTENED TWICE.
It's way more than we ever get from her at home.
Friday night Brian & I had a real, honest-to-God date for the first time since - well, it's been a while. Our last effort at dinner out was thwarted, and it's hard to save up enough for both the entertainment and the sitter. Seems pointless to pay someone to sit in our house while we sit in our car, doesn't it?
(Actually, that idea is sounding a bit better every time I think of it.)
I had scored some tickets to a good show at the comedy club, and I had been looking forward to the event all week. So this time, the babysitter showed up, and after a flurry of instructions and kisses, we left for the car. You may recall me writing about the neighbors before. They were on the front lawn with the previously mentioned FOUR children, who were riding bicycles or curing cancer or something. I wasn't paying much attention, but I did give them a little wave.
Immediately, and I do mean PRONTO, the neighbors noticed we did not have Helen with us. They shouted, "Are you going on a DATE?" When I nodded excitedly, they yelled back, "Woo hoo!!"
Parents of small children do get that excited for each other. Really. Adult time spent in a room full of other adults, knowing that Helen is in the perfectly capable hands of a wonderful sitter that she adores - it all creates a certain joy that allows you to relax and try to think of something else to talk about besides the baby. You experience it on so few occasions when the baby is this young, that you can genuinely enjoy it when someone else gets that precious date time.
The best part was yet to come, though. Helen slept until SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.
Let's see, how many times has that happened this year? Um, let's see, total it up, carry the one, yep - NEVER. Last month, I actually considered getting her a paper route.
Helen waking up 7 a.m. is like my grandparents eating dinner at 7 p.m. IT JUST DOESN'T HAPPEN. And you can bet I thanked my lucky stars and my AMAZING BABYSITTER. Gratitude beyond measure, I'm tellin' ya.
(Can you tell she reads this blog? I'm trying not to lay it on too thick here.)
Last week at daycare - I think it was a Tuesday - I dropped off Helen, trying my usual routine of getting her settled with a toy. Her usual routine is to realize I'm leaving, start to cry, and then I pass her off to the teacher. This particular morning, the teacher commented to me that Helen was a little "pushy."
The teacher is a very nice young lady, expecting her own child later this year, and her comment sort of took me by surprise. But I gave myself a moment to think it over - yeah, Helen can be pretty pushy. She fusses, and I respond by making whatever's annoying her go away, and the fussing stops. It's a pretty good system for her, so why should she think daycare would be any different?
Fast forward to two days later. I was at the daycare with Helen - actually sitting on the floor with her this time, playing with some blocks. No other parents were in the room, and the teacher took advantage of the opportunity to speak with me. She says (and I quote), "I hope you won't take this the wrong way ..."
Now we all know she's about to say something really nice, right? Yeah, that's what I thought.
"... but I wondered, do you have any rules for Helen at home?"
Gulp. Words every mother longs to hear, eh?
We actually do have rules for Helen. There's a short list Brian made last summer, posted on the refrigerator, titled "Rules for Helen." She's not allowed to hang out with the Smith Boys on her own (ever). She has to take swim lessons. She has to learn basic car maintenance. You know, things we want her to do or not do - but probably not what the daycare teacher meant.
So I had to stumble through the next few minutes with comments like, "Well, I've tried to put my foot down about her throwing food on the floor when she's done eating, but she just laughs at me." And I felt about 2 inches tall while I was doing it, too.
Her daycare teacher subtly suggested I needed to buckle down. As an example, when she's changing a kid's diaper, the rules say one hand on the kid at all times. Helen's across the room with another kid, and they're climbing on the table. The teacher tells them to get off the table and come stand by her. Every kid EXCEPT Helen obeys the teacher. It's like Helen doesn't listen to her.
(If you were wondering what that sound was, it's Helen's grandparents laughing hysterically. Cackling with glee, even.)
It's hard for Brian and I to be tough with her. You've seen her. Cute as a bug, eh? She gets fussy, and it's usually because she's upset with some sudden change. It's easier to fix whatever's wrong and get her quiet again, instead of letting her work through her frustration and settle herself. I can continue to fix things for her, but it could hurt her chances to pick up the tools to figure out this crazy world we live in.
It's part of being a parent, making sure she learns how to be a good girl. I just didn't realize it started SO SOON. I'm still back at "sleep through the night." Can we slow this down a little, please? Thanks.
Don't you just love Helen's new purse? She got this from her daddy, who loves Hello Kitty a lot. (Some would say, too much.) And Helen loves this purse, too. I especially love how she's giving me the eye in this picture, like "Hey, hands off my purse, lady."
Helen carries it around, shoving various toys in it. Sometimes it's the baby car keys, or the baby cell phone, or the baby remote control. (Can you tell what she likes to play with? Believe me, these are not suitable replacements for the real thing.)
She also has a bunch of my old Mardi Gras beads, and she spends a lot of time putting them in her purse and taking them out again. Then she carries the purse to another part of the room and starts the whole process over again.
It reminds me a lot of what I do all day at work.
Random Update #1:Several of you have asked, "So, Jennie, what did Brian do that was so funny?" Honestly, I could tell you, but then Brian would have to kill me AND you. So, really, folks, I'm not telling!!
Random Update #2: To "Anonymous and Possibly Former Friends in Destin" who phoned over Labor Day Weekend just to mention that they were in Destin, and I wasn't, AND HEY, LET'S RUB IT IN A LITTLE MORE: not cool. SOOOOO not cool.
Helen loved wearing an Erik Ainge football jersey this weekend. The Bama fan in me is having a hard time with this, but Brian's so proud. And thank goodness the Vols won. Must have been all the new gear Brian purchased! He was trying hard to get rid of the bad juju from last year.
By the way, in case you didn't already know:
ju'-ju: (noun) 1. a soft and chewy candy eaten in movie theaters. 2. an African term referring to the spiritual nature or supernatural power of a particular item. So, last year, mystic forces and/or movie candy converged to create a season not worth thinking about, ever again. I can see the Orange Nation chanting at the tailgate, just before kick-off this year: DEMON RANDY SANDERS, I CHEW YOU UP AND CAST YOU OUT (OF STATE)!!
With Helen's round belly running around in a football jersey, she reminded me of those guys on Saturday Night Live who ate wings and fried potato skins and jawed about DA BEARS and DITKA.
But, don't they both look happy that football season has started?
My life has distinct categories. Once I was Single, but now I'm Married. I spent much of my adulthood Renting Apartments, and now I'm a Homeowner.
"LBH" (Life Before Helen) seems like a distant memory, but I remember all that free time I used to have. God knows what I ever did.
Same thing with money. I should have opened a daycare. That's a cash cow if I've ever seen it. Or, at least, they seem to get all of my cash every week!
Now there's "LWB" - Life With Blog. Each day is chock full of things to write about, and I'm trying harder to remember the little things that happen, to see if someone else can see the humor. For example, Friday night Brian did something really funny. And by "really funny" I mean hilarious in a way that a wife can enjoy and snicker to herself for years. When it happened, the first thing Brian said was, "You can't put this on the blog." Brian saw the humor, right away. He just wanted to make sure that NO ONE ELSE EVER DID.
I swear, honey, my lips are sealed. But it's so tempting to share here, to make you all smile. I guess that's part of having a blog: deciding what to share, and what stays in the family.
Something I will share: tonight, Helen got a Tigger marshmallow lollipop. She played with it for a bit, and tried to like it, but handed it back after a couple of minutes. That left precious few photo ops for her mother, but I did my best.
Me: Knock, knock.
You: Who's there?
Me: Control freak. Now you say, "Control freak who?"
...
I used to send out Helen Updates via email to a whole bunch of people and get several replies back. Now that I've moved online, I have no way to see who's reading my entries, so it feels like I'm sending posts down a black hole. For those of you new to weblogs, a quick note: if you click on the word "comments" below this entry, it will take you to a screen where you can type a comment for me to read. You do not have to have a Blogger account to make a comment. I'm not soliciting compliments, I promise! It's a great way to keep in touch with us, and for us to find out who's enjoying this site. I'll also find out if I need to load up on Helen pictures, quit the not-so-amusing commentary, or press on with more knock-knock jokes.
Helen's ear infection got worse over the weekend, so we made an emergency office visit Sunday afternoon to get antibiotics and pain medicine. After giving her the goods, she ate an early dinner and passed out at 6 pm.
These pictures were taken on Friday night, when her fever had spiked back up to 101. Clearly, not a happy camper.
A classic symptom of adenovirus is a skin rash. It looks like an allergic reaction - or what happens when you get the bright idea to try a new laundry detergent - but her little body is trying to fight the viral infection. Clearly it's not occupying much of her free time.
I took her back to daycare this morning and discovered Helen's not the only one with the virus. A full class has 12 kids, and yesterday five children showed up. Then the teacher sent home two kids with fever. Today it was five kids again. And yes, the entire room has been disinfected.
But after two days at home with no schedule, a full day at school wiped Helen out. She started asking for her bedtime bottle at 7:00 (an hour early) and was conked out 15 minutes later. Brian's out helping a friend tonight, so I actually have a free evening for the first time in a week.
Why can't I think of anything else to do but sleep? Hmm.
Brian calls me at work after giving Helen an afternoon snack.
Brian: Oreos are not maintenance-free.
Me: Oh, really?
Brian: They're EVERYWHERE.
Helen: (in the background) ma-ma! ma-ma! ma-ma!
Brian: (to Helen) For the last time, I'm not ma-ma! Stop calling me ma-ma!
Helen: ma-ma!
Brian: Hagar! Hey, Hagar! How do you like that, HAGAR!!
...
Officially? I'm a mother of TWO kids.
Helen came home from daycare yesterday with a temperature of 101.5. I gave her some Tylenol and a bottle of water, but it didn't seem to help much. She crashed hard at bedtime, then woke me up just before 2 a.m., crying. When I got her out of the crib, I realized she was pretty warm - up to 102.7. More Tylenol, and some cuddling. She was still feverish this morning, so I made a doctor appointment. By the time we got there, she had a rash all over, especially on her feet.
Turns out Helen has a virus that normally runs around daycare, and a right ear full of pus. So that week she woke me up every night, that was her ear infection screaming at me.
Helen, you remember all that cursing I did in the wee hours of the morning last week? I'm so very sorry, baby. *hangs head in shame*Right now she's sleeping in her stroller in the middle of my office. Brian is on his way to pick her up and spend the afternoon with her. This is when it would come in really handy to have a bunch of unemployed friends who like babies.
I spent WAAAY too much time laughing at this.
Did anyone else spend afternoons running around their neighborhood with their shirts tucked up and over?
I should have gotten a Barbie doll, who won't hate me in 15 years for dressing her up and taking pictures - and laughing.
Helen, I'm sorry. For the bunny outfit, for this picture, and for who knows what else will happen this decade in fashion. But if my mom spent the 70's putting me in brown plaid pants with an orange turtleneck and taking pictures, by god, you can deal with a tucked onesie that makes me smile, and reminds me of carefree weekends playing outside with my best friends, wishing we were grownups already.
A solution to the word problem, from our friend Xander:
H = X * Y + Z / U where U is an undefined variable
J = (Z-3) + U + (SqRt (X*Y))
HU = X * Y + Z
HU - Z = X * Y
Z = HU - (X * Y)
So
J = ((HU - XY)-3) + U + (SqRt (XY))
J-SqRt(XY) = (HU-XY)-3 + U
U = J-SqRt(XY) - (HU-XY) + 3
Therefore, we can easily deduce that after a mere 4 days you attempt to purchase a tranquilizer gun, but are arrested on the way home for:
Driving While Impaired (sleep deprivation, I am sure)
Carrying a Concealed Weapon
Possession of a firearm without a license
...
I think I understood the part about "driving while impaired."
A word problem:
If Baby H consumes x amount of meals in a day, takes y number of naps and sleeps for z hours at night, where z has no correlation to x or y, and Mother J has slept for z-3 hours when she is awoken by Baby H for the sixth night in a row, how long will it take Mother J to locate, purchase and deploy a tranquilizer gun?
Don't forget to show your work.
Today I took about 20 pictures of her running around the house and out in the yard. This one was my favorite.
So, how do you stay awake at work after spending all night up with a crying child?Helen woke up at 11 p.m. screaming like a banshee. I had been asleep for about an hour, so I dragged myself upstairs hoping it would cease quickly. Of course, it didn't, and after a restless night for both of us, she was up for good around 4 a.m. We decided this morning that she must have been teething. Yes, The Replacement Baby is back!Cranky, definitely. And that's just me. Brian heard it all on the monitor so he's going sleepless today, too.Being this tired reminds me of my single days, except I'm missing the skull-pounding hangover and the exuberance of a schoolgirl crush on a drummer from the band I saw the night before. I had a little oatmeal for breakfast, followed by 2 Cokes and a big glass of water, and I'm still about to fall face-first on my keyboard. So if anyone has any good ideas about how to last through the day, feel free to share.
Last week Brian mentioned that he had a dinner to attend for work - something about selling over his quota for the month, and his boss was taking him out to celebrate. I was invited to join them, so I lined up a babysitter. I have to admit, I got a little excited at the thought of a night out with adults. A nice glass of wine, and food that would not be eaten standing over the kitchen counter while Helen threw her cooked carrots on the floor - well, it was tantalizing, to say the least.
So yesterday was the big day, and mentally I spent most of the morning planning the evening - race to the daycare center, pick up the baby, make her dinner, throw on some earrings and liptstick, take the earrings off the baby and wipe off the lipstick. It'd make her look like one of those pageant contestants, really.
But after lunch, I got a phone call from the babysitter. She had gone to the doctor with a bad cold and learned she had an ear infection. She was still feverish, and probably contagious, and obviously not feeling well. So sorry - she'd have to cancel.
CRAP.
Brian & I spent the next 2 hours calling literally everyone we knew. Backup #1 was in another state. Backup #2 had a work dinner to attend. Backup #3 had plans with spouse at a local pub. Backup #4 had her own kids to pick up at baseball practice. And so on. You get the idea. With such short notice, no one could come over to watch Helen.
So I thought, there went my precious evening with adults, there goes the wine, bring on the carrots. But Brian said he'd rather have me there, so we took her with us. Having spent time in restaurants with Helen, I was worried that she would last about 30 minutes tops. She's been a little difficult lately, signaling it's time to go by throwing everything within reach on the floor, and screaming loudly. It's hard to get a 14-month old to listen to well-reasoned arguments about good behavior in public places. Brian agreed that if I needed to escape, I could snatch her up and head for the car, and he could get a ride home.
But surprisingly, she was fine for much of the evening. Charming, smiling, watching everything around her, and even waving to people at the tables nearby. After sampling the bread and spaghetti I ordered for her, along with the grapes & raisins I had brought for her to snack on (this was after eating a full meal at home, mind you), she got more than a little antsy, and realizing we'd hit the 30 minute mark, the appetizers hadn't even arrived! The waiter claimed they made everything from scratch when the order came in, but it took so long our calamari fritte must have been out for a nice swim at the time.
So Helen & I took a little walk around the restaurant, and found a long hallway downstairs where she could run back & forth many times. After we got back, the appetizers had arrived, and I snacked quickly because she did not want to be in the high chair again. Back downstairs we went for more running around - and this same routine followed for each course. Quick snack, then back downstairs. Except for dessert - Helen got to eat some ice cream. Score!
I think she deserves a medal. It took over 2 hours to get through dinner, and she did very well. Even though I was so exhausted when I got home I went straight to sleep, even though she got spaghetti sauce all over her new white shirt, even though it wasn't the adult evening I had pictured, I'm quite proud of her.
But next time, I'm ordering dessert first.
So I'm eating lunch at work and reading the paper when I notice this picture on the front page of our local news:
Now that's a slow news day.
It’s taken me a while to get brave enough to put this story online.
It was Memorial Day weekend, and Brian & I decided it was finally time to paint the master bedroom. We did a lot of painting prior to moving in last summer (okay, HE did the painting), and we decided that we could live with that color for a little while longer. But the long weekend was a perfect time to finally get this chore done. So we gathered up supplies at Home Depot and set up for what we thought would take a long day.
It took two days, of course. And that’s with me helping where I could, and Brian doing the rest. (Okay, HE did the job and I just taped a little bit of the trim.) But I played with Helen, and occasionally stopped by to watch the progress.
Meantime, Helen was absolutely fascinated with the stuff inside the bathroom cabinets. I have these large crates filled with toiletries stored under the sink, with lots of medicines, and she thought those prescription pill bottles were the best toys ever. Little stuff that rattles? Sign her up for a dozen, please! She carried them all around the room, shaking them and clearly enjoying herself. Since the tops were child-proof, and we were both kind of focused on getting the paint work done, I gave in and let her play with the bottles.
Helen & I spent most of the 2nd day upstairs playing, but as Brian finished up, we came downstairs, and I tried to help by pulling off the tape around the trim. So there were giant balls of that blue tape everywhere, and as usual Helen had gone straight for the cabinets to find her favorite little toys.
Oh! I forgot to mention that it was pretty hot that day, and Helen had made a mess of her shirt at mealtime, so she had spent the afternoon running around in just a diaper. So, let me make sure you’ve got this image in your head – diaper-clad baby, walking around with pill bottles, while I’m crawling around on the floor of our bedroom, pulling up blue tape. Got it?
The doorbell rang. Brian was in the garage, putting away the ladder & paintbrushes, and chatting with a neighbor who had stopped by. I wondered, who rings the doorbell when Brian is standing 10 feet away? Helen was clearly occupied with her toys, so I raced to the door.
It was our next-door neighbor, and he was holding a foil-covered plate of food. Turned out they grilled shish-kabobs and had plenty of leftovers. Instead of throwing them away, he wondered if we might want them? Of course, we had no dinner plans (read: what, me, cook?) so the food was greatly appreciated.
Now, this guy is a doctor. He’s married to a stay-at-home mom who just had their fourth child (yes, FOURTH) in February. She’s THAT mom, too – always has the kids in cute clothes, plays fun games outside every day, and packs the essential snacks & drinks & toys for the trips to the pool. Plus, she’s really skinny. You get the idea – all the moms in the neighborhood secretly loathe this woman.
So her man, who’s married to this paragon of motherhood, was on my doorstep offering me food, and I was thinking to myself, okay, this is going well, now if I can just get him off my porch quickly enough … but you guessed it. I heard a little rattle behind me, and in slow motion, I turned in horror to see Helen walking down the front hall with the biggest grin on her face, wearing just a diaper, shaking a pill bottle in one hand, and dragging along behind her a giant ball of blue tape, which is stuck to one heel.
I turned back to him, and said weakly, “Yeah, um, Mom of the Year right here.” He sort of nodded and said goodbye, and I thanked him again for the food. As I shut the door and carried the plate into the kitchen, I was so very ashamed of myself. Not only was I unable to provide dinner for my family, but my baby looked like she spent the afternoon hopped up on pain pills and paint fumes.
Later, I found out at the neighborhood picnic that he’s a pediatrician.
This is a difficult update to send today. My grandmother, who has been a source of love and letters for as many years as I can remember, passed away this week.
Helen got to meet her great-grandmother almost exactly a year ago. She was about 7 weeks old when I flew out west with her to meet my dad's family - great-aunts and great-uncles and many cousins. We called it the Baby Tour 2005, since my sister, a cousin & I all apparently drank the same water that year, and all of us had babies in the span of 4 months. (For the curious, we’ve stopped drinking water.)
It was a special moment to hand Helen to this lady, and not only do I have pictures (oh boy, do I have pictures – see attached) but I will forever treasure that she was strong enough to hold each baby that week. She was so pleased with having the opportunity to enjoy the new additions to her family, but she worried that the great-grandbabies cried when she held them. Oh, but Grandma, I told her, that’s a baby’s job. They’re supposed to cry. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t ever learn how to take care of them, and you wouldn’t ever find out what makes them happy.
I’m realizing today that it’s still our job to cry when something’s wrong. What made me happy was knowing there was a special member of my family who wanted to know how I was doing and what my life was like. And I loved hearing stories from her about my family as they grew up – what my aunts & uncles were like as kids, and what she liked most about having a big family. She & I wrote to each other for so many years – I still have her letters. It was wonderful to get mail from her at college, or at summer camp, or at my first apartment. Sometimes she shared a recipe, sometimes she told me what was going on at church, sometimes she told me about a trip she’d been on with Grandpa. And often, she told me that she loved me lots. You just can’t go wrong having someone like that in your life.
So this week, I’m crying. It’s hard to lose a grandparent, and it’s hard to know how to go on without her. That’s a big piece of our family that we’ve lost and she will be greatly missed.
And you, Helen’s grandparents – you’re on notice. You have some big shoes to fill for Helen.
Chapter 1
1. And the mother said unto the father, “Verily, I say unto you, I am headed to the grocery store to buy cake mix.”
2. And the father said unto the mother, “Make sure it’s low-carb.”
3. At the grocery store, the mother searched the aisles for cupcake wrappers, but they were very small and hard to find.
4. And the Publix staff did comfort the mother, and show her where they hid the cupcake wrappers.
5. As the mother put the bounty in the pantry, the baby found her cup runneth over in the kitchen cabinets. And the cat food bowl. And the trashcan.
6. So the mother gave the baby Cheerios in her high chair, and the baby said, “It is good.”
Chapter 2
1. And on the morning of the seventh day, the mother awoke to bake cupcakes.
2. And the father slept, as the seventh day was for rest.
3. And while the baby ate her breakfast, she knew not what her mother did.
4. In the afternoon, when the baby was hungry, her mother and her father brought her to her high chair.
5. They gave the baby a cupcake, and lo, the candle and the flame confused the baby.
6. But the chocolate frosting was tasted, and the baby said, “Ooo! That’s good!”
We never knew a year could go by so quickly. Thanks to all of you for your love and support of our little family – it’s appreciated beyond any measure.
