Thursday, April 4, 2013

Easter Weekend

Annie, you have no baby book (oops) so I'm trying to update your comings and goings here, but my lord, have you seen how messy the house is?  And how impossibly tired (read: lazy) I am?    These are my new normals: a very messy home.  Dishes from two days ago by the sink (not ever even "in" the sink).  Dirty clothes on the floor.  Tripping over stuff...always.

I guess it's a balance.  Matt and I do not value a clean house.

Okay, fine, that's a total lie.  You got me.  I would love nothing more than a clean house, but I'm just so tired at the end of the day.  I suggested we get someone to do a clean quarterly in the house (as my birthday and Christmas and everything gift wrapped in one) and Matt was positively horrified.  I guess it's too bourgeois.  And how embarrassing, in a way.  I don't know how they possibly couldn't pass judgement on the way we live.  So he offers to clean - and does - but it's a pitiful job.

So here we are.  I have pink eye.  Again.  It's like when I got Hand, Foot and Mouth and you didn't.  I swear I need to wear a hazmat suit to pick you at daycare.  But things are well other than my goopy eye and icky house.  You are walking everywhere!  About three weeks you go up and just decided, "Fine.  I'll do this without prodding," and from there you were off.  You adore chasing Penny (of course) around the ottoman and teasing her.  The poor girl is panting afterwards!

Oh, and the best thing happened yesterday.  I was picking you up at school, and, laying there, was an incident sheet. But the offender wasn't you!  It was for the mild-mannered George, who (okay, I read the whole thing, sue me) apparently bite a classmate out of the blue!  Boy wasn't even provoked.  I was elated to find another troublemaker in the group and desperately want to cozy up to George's mom and dish on our sharp-toothed kids.  Fortunately, you haven't bit anyone this week, but maybe it's because I keep reading the refrain from "Teeth Are Not For Biting" that goes, "Ouch!  Biting hurts!"  while screeching the "ouch!" part.  You always look vaguely embarrassed.

You've been growing a bit more petulant at times, but also so much fun.  You snuggle and love being chased and giggle and hide behind our legs.  You still love bananas and walk over to where we keep them on the counter, pointing and saying, "Na-na!  Na-na!" and yesterday I gave you a string cheese stick and you chanted "Cheesh!" over and over again.  You also say "dog" and "all done" (ah dowwwn), but only rarely call me mama or your father dada. I guess you can't have everything. ;-)

Here are some photos from Easter weekend:









Molly (far left) totally makes this photo.  "Can't these bozos get their act together and take a good picture?!"










Monday, March 25, 2013

She's a biter

It's horrifying to find out your kid is a biter.  Annie comes from such gentle stock (ok, fine, perhaps not me, but Matt) and we were both quiet and good kids, so I'm not sure how she has become so willful and headstrong (and dare I say defiant?). Last week Annie's teacher took me aside at pick-up and told me she's had a biting episode each of the last four days.  "We're working on her words, because she bites when she gets frustrated," Tiffany said.  "I told her mouths were for eating, not biting.  I gave her a strong 'no!' and she just got up, walked across the room, and gave me a smug look that seemed to say, 'You don't say 'no' to me!'"  Upon hearing this I was tickled.  My firecracker.  Of course we were concerned, but the rest of the week there were no remaining biting episodes and I chalked it up to a toddler hiccup.  A little fun story to tell about my sweet, charming kid.  But today Tiffany said Annie had bitten again, and I was to sign an incident report.  The victim also receives their own report, which is horrifying to me as I feel ashamed and embarrassed for my little girl, even though I know she's not malicious, she just doesn't have the vocabulary to say say, "No, I was playing with that!" when her classmate grabbed her toy.  I went home and cried and told Matt, "What if the other family is very upset?  What if they want to know who the biter is?  (It's all anonymous.)  What if their kid was really hurt?"  It hurt knowing my child was getting an aggressive rep.  It hurt knowing that the other toddlers - as they become more conscious of these things - may learn to avoid her.

Annie doesn't bite at home - why would she? - there are no other babies grabbing toys or pushing.  She is an only child who, generally, gets what she wants.  Matt and I decided we needed to start being more firm with our discipline.  Throw your food on the floor?  You're done with dinner.  Want to "play" (e.g. bang) on my computer?  No longer.  She hates sitting with us and reading, but in teaching her to be more verbal, to learn how to start expressing herself rather than grunting, we decided we absolutely will make her sit and read with us each night.  We're not talking 30 minutes here - maybe 10!  But tonight she threw a tantrum that lasted until bedtime.

I read that biting is relatively common, and upwards of 1 in 4 kids will bite at some time.  I read that it is not a future predictor of behavior and it should pass.  But here's the thing - Annie just turned 16-months-old - girlfriend isn't getting a big vocabulary anytime soon!  And, I swear, that girl is getting sly.  She has a wild streak.  Last night at the grocery store she took things from the cart and dropped them on the floor.  I yelled at her - firmly and clearly - and each time she gave me this look that said, "Yeah?  What are ya gonna do about it?" I have a 16-month-old going on 16; lord help me.







One word: TROUBLE.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Mexican getaway

Matt and I were in Tulum, Mexico last week.  This was our first big trip since our Honeymoon almost five years ago.  We agreed on Mexico because I wanted tropical, and he wanted ruins.  The boy is obsessed with those damn Mayans, I tell you. 

Tulum is about two hours south of Cancun and an hour south of the big all-inclusives  “This place reminds me of Vegas,” Matt noted as we drove by the entrances of these mammoth hotels.  Big fountains, ostentatious fences and winding drives into their grounds.  Not that that’s bad, but we wanted small.  

Tulum is a funny mix: almost everyone here is white, either from America or Europe.  It’s half well-off tourists and half hippie enclave.  Everything is open air, and Christmas lights strewn in the trees and fresh fish, ceviche and good fruit.  The ocean water is teal and a few dogs, all belonging to the seemingly year-around transplants who run the dive shops and restaurants (and all beautiful, sinewy Europeans with long hair or dreads) - scamper on the beach, dodging the waves.  Our small hotel was literally on the beach and we fell asleep each night listening to the waves.

I’ve spied several topless woman (with great, small perky breasts...I mean, I would go topless too if mine looked like that) and a older, very pale man in a tiniest sliver of a g-string.  “That’s got to be a dare, right?” Matt said.  I replied that no, he’s just European.  “Don’t be so uncultured, Matt,” I added, although secretly thinking, “My god that is a sight...but I have to give it to him.”


And with that, here are some photos of our trip:


The beautiful view from our balcony.  


We're so used to getting up at 6:30 due to Annie, so we just kept the blinds open and rose with the sun every morning.  Gorgeous.


Every morning we ate breakfast on the beach.  This is Lorenzo taking our photograph.

We ate several of our lunches on our balcony and just picked up goodies from the local grocery store.  Here I am ogling the varieties of peppers.


Our Mexican rental car.  Note there is no clock, radio, or CD player.  The fingerprints are me pushing on it saying, "It has to be here somewhere!"  Sadly, no mariachi music for us on our drive down to Tulum.


Our hotel room. Very white.  Very austere.  Very peaceful.


Matt went scuba diving in a cenote, which is a water hole formed by an above ground portion of an underground river.  There is a complex maze of rivers, caves, and cenotes in the Yucatan.  We went swimming in one as well (photos later).


On the road to our hotel.  


Mexican bakery.  You KNOW I got my baked goods on!


I took a photo of this because I thought it would be Matt's last healthy hours on the trip.  He asked for a aqua fresca (flavored water) and asked if it was purified.  The waiter said "si" but with a glint in his eye.  Totally thought he was playin' us.  Anyway, Matt didn't get sick, so I guess that's good.
(Prices are in pesos, and the exchange rate is about 12 pesos/US dollar.  That's one cheap taco!)


We had a game throughout vacation calling "Lizard Spotting" (ingenius titling, I know).  Here I am with a bucket full 'o' lizards!


Visiting some Mayan ruins in Tulum on the beach. 


I'm smiling, but I'm already getting sick of these darn ruins.  Once you see one ruin, you've seen 'em all (don't tell that to the Mayans).


Then we went ziplining over a lagoon.


Take a look at this here action shot.


Now take a look at Matt in these photos...


Lounging back....


Relaxed....


Almost zen....


Then there's me hanging on for my life.  Schreeching.
Typical.


We fit in a little canoing.


Here's Matt jumping into a cenote.


Another view.


Here is Matt being suave (aka doing a flip).
Our guide - Raphael - said, "This one's good for the Facebook, no?"
Well said, Raphael.  Well said.  We'll have to upload this bad boy.


The next part of our little adventre was an underground cave tour!  It was pitch black
(these photos are taken with a flashlight and camera with a flash).


Making our way through the cave....doggy paddle style, yo.


Hands down, my favorite photo of the trip.  Bwhahaha.


Lunch on the balcony.


Matt and his lady friend.


I asked for "anything in a coconut, but it must be in a coconut".  You know, just for this photo opp.  Classy.


Matt relaxing.

This is Matt's favorite part of the trip, bar none.  He sincerely got a kick outta the old man in the g-string.  He said everytime he spotted him, he got 10 extra "lizard points".  (Boy was falling behind on the lizard points, let me tell you.)  Anyway, since Matt was so enamored he spotted this gentleman daily (look, this dude really piqued his interest), and thus clenched the win for "Lizard Spotting".  Unfairly, I might add.


Beautiful beach.


Nighttime in Tulum is magical: lights in the trees everywhere, people walking to dinner on the dirt road, flashlights in hand, and hotels aglow. Here is the pool at our hotel.


On our last day we went to Chichen Itza.  Matt was dying to go.  I was like, "eh, ruins.."  I know, I'm so jaded.

We also snorkeled and saw tons of sea turtles and took some underwater photos, which I hope to share when they're developed.  It was a terrific trip, but we were so happy to come home to Annie, who spent three days with my parents and three days with Matt's.  It's good to be home.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

A doggone health scare

Last week Penny almost died: that beautiful being who was almost an afterthought this past year came front and center and settled deep and heavy in my chest reminding me what a damn god dog - and companion - she has been.

Penny has been getting thinner - and we thought at first she was mimicking Annie's persnickety eating habits - but then she grew weak and lethargic.  She could not finish a walk.  We learned she had a tumor on her spleen and it was removed on Thursday.  On Wednesday - the eve of her surgery - we cooked her a steak.  She loved it.

The day of the surgery Matt had to carry her into our vet's office because she had grown so anemic and weak, and that morning we said goodbye.  Matt took a quick snapshot of Annie, Penny and me, all of us with our hearts in our throat except Annie, who just wanted her morning banana.

But yesterday we learned it wasn't cancer and day by day she grows fatter, stronger, happier.  Her appetite is strong and she jumped to greet us when we got home (so much for, "She should only be walking to go out to the bathroom," which was the advice of our vet).  We have matching scars - long, deep vertical cuts on our tummies - and I'm reminded of the comfort she brought me when I was sick.

The day of the surgery Matt wrote this is an email:

I'll always be in Penny's debt.  What I'm most grateful for is how she's been able to soothe and comfort you.  Especially when I think of the rougher times we've gone though, your hospitalization, then surgery, your unemployment, and all the failed fertilization attempts.  Our doggy daughter was always able to provide solace in ways that eluded me.  

We're so very thankful to have her home.


Penny: "Let's get on with this already you sentimental ninnies."

Her steak (well, we had some as well...let's be real y'all).

Our precious pup.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

14 Months


I've been having an impossibly bad week: at work, and health-wise (let's just say it involved me puking all over the train parking lot, oy).  Then I remembered I had this on my work computer from last week, and it made me smile:

I realized I haven't taken any recent photos!  I'll have to remedy that, but this is from Christmas.

I find myself writing these letters to you when I’m away: right now I’m trying to feel my toes again in Michigan.  It is below zero with the wind chill and I just walked eight blocks in flimsy flats to an event I’m attending for work.  I flew in late last night from Colorado, where the sun made the mountains orange and it was a windows-down sort of 68 degree day.  This morning I ate oatmeal in my hotel room, thinking of my flight home tonight and seeing you tomorrow morning.  Your dad tells me you’ve been grumpy, and I’d like to think it’s because you miss me but I’m pretty sure it’s just that nasty stomach virus you’re getting over. 
On Monday you turned 14 months old, and high in the clouds I thought about how lucky I am to return home to you and your father.  It’s important you know that these work trips are fraught with many emotions: overall, I really do dislike them.  I hate flying (sitting in a small commuter plane while crews work on de-icing the thing is harrowing to me) and I really hate being away from you (not that I don’t enjoy a break: in my travels I’ve recently discovered the joys of room service…and not having to pick up the tab!).  But, I’m very fortunate to provide for our family in this way and something about late night drives or even sitting in an airport fuels me: I am working as a means to an end – our family (and let’s be honest – my penchant for weekly Target runs!).  I hope you find something you love to do: I haven’t yet – and continue to have many heartaches in the corporate world - but I find solace that motherhood feeds me in a way no job will. 
So here we are.  First, let me say I am not pleased that you have turned into a very picky eater.  My number one pet peeve is a picky eater, and lordy, if I don’t have one from my own flesh and bone!  These are the things you like: bananas (like is an understatement), eggs, yogurt, refried beans, pancakes, bread (and any bread product, really), and cheese.  Sometimes you eat other fruit (pieces of mango or peach, pineapple or applesauce), but the only vegetable you seem to digest are avocados.  You push these foods around on your plate and eventually throw them to the floor for Penny.  Then you start whining and flailing your arms for a banana.  Every. Night.  We have capped your banana consumption to one banana a day and you are NOT pleased.
You still aren’t walking (your father and I were both late walkers at 15-months-old) but we know you can do it.  You seem to say, “Why walk when I can scoot?”  So you scoot and crawl everywhere (you are finally crawling), and cruise everywhere else.  Sometimes you’ll stand up unassisted and then realize what you’ve done and sit back down.  You’ve take a few steps but you just really seem disinterested.
You haven’t talked much but love saying “uh oh!” when you drop anything.  Or when we drop anything.  Or really, whenever something goes awry.  You still think Daddy is the silliest goofball ever, but I’m happy to report I can also get you giddy and squealing.  You adore peek-a-boo and often play it in the bath, with me or Dad hiding behind the shower curtain.
This winter you have had a series of health hiccups: two ear infections, a sinus infection and a stomach virus.  You and your daycare classmates are riddled with germs, and it’s like an infectious hopscotch from one miserable toddler to the next.  But – amidst the sickness – you’ve become more affectionate.  You have never been a cuddler but starting with that first ear infection you nuzzled  close and still do when you’re under the weather or feeling tired: you don’t know how good that feels to your father and I.
One thing that doesn’t feel good?  Girl, you are waking up during the night!  It started during Christmas vacation and hasn’t let up.  We never truly needed to implement “crying it out” because you were always our sleep champion, but now we find ourselves biding the minutes until you settle back down.  It started with two stubborn top teeth that finally appeared a few weeks ago – those wretched teeth!  And then you were sick.  And then?  Then I think you just got used to being soothed late into the night.  The last week has been a bit better, and I think you’re finally getting the hand of self-soothing (I sincerely hope I didn’t just jinx myself by typing that!).
And, like I said before, here we are.  I’m finishing this post in the air again on my way home.  The plane is running 30 minutes late (had to taxi 10 minutes to a de-iced runway and wait in line to get de-iced for another 20 – shiver!) but I should touch down in another half hour.  If these tiring work trips are good for anything, they’re good at making me realize how good I have it.  Your father sometimes irritates me in ways I didn’t know I could be irritated (how can the man pull out of the drive way and reach the top of the street forgetting where we’re going?!) but you and I are lucky baby girl: he is a good man and a terrific dad.  I hope you find someone you love deeply too someday.  For now, you have us: two impossibly imperfect newbies who love you to pieces.  Happy 14 months, my little Joanna Rose.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Happy New Year

I do not love working, but I love the momentum it brings to my day.  If I didn’t work, I would never leave the house - or, when I did - it would invariably be in three-day-old yoga pants and a stained hoodie. Forget brushing my hair.  And for that reason alone, I am happy to be back at work today.

2013 came with a grumpy mumble.  Mainly, me bitching about the neighborhood fireworks going off and a baby who - inexplicably for the last several days - refuses to sleep through the night.  It starts at 11 pm - a cry soothed by a pacifier - and again at 2:30 am, where nothing seems to work (pacifier, diaper change, soothing words, until we gave her baby Tylanol [aka baby crack] and a bottle).  The moment you realize you’re wide awake and it’s going to be a fight to get back to sleep, the battle is lost.  The moment that tiny seed of worry is planted I might as well put on the coffee and get a shower.

On New Year’s Eve, Matt and I sat in bed with our laptops and ate desserts and watched bad TV.  We did manage to plan - and book - a getaway to Mexico for March, which is really big for us as the furthest away we manage to get is the New Jersey or Virginian shoreline or reading the TravelZoo weekly Top 20 vacation deals email  Annie will stay three days with my parents, and three day with Matt’s - a baby on her own suitcase adventure with Penny in tow.

I hope the new year brings you many adventures, too.  Here’s to 2013!


"Adventure?  Pah-lease.  Just give me my banana already."