RE: peanut

Crush

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 30 May 2010 01:37:00 +0000

Ryan has her first crush. On a boy. Not one that she's grown up with and that feels, probably, more like a sibling.

It's sweet. And adorable. She can't stop talking about Tyler, and how she plays with him at school, and sits by him during "first circle, and snack, and second circle. THREE times, mama" and plays with him outside.

As she was babbling away in the backseat (Tyler this and Tyler that), it hit me. This is just the beginning. This is just her first crush. Someday, she'll be older, and have another crush, and she'll feel those butterflies in her tummy when he walks by. And someday after that, she'll be even older, and he'll break her heart. And yes, this is what I think about as I'm driving to preschool, listening to showtunes in the car. He'll break her heart, and I'll think back to Tyler. The sweet little boy she had her first crush on.

A girl never forgets her first crush. Just like she never forgets her first love. And her first heartbreak. I could tell you all their names, but I won't.
And she never, ever, forgets her true love. If she's really lucky, she'll get to marry that boy.
And live happily ever after (more or less) with him.
And he'll love her.
And she'll love him.

I love you Michael. Happy Anniversary. Thank you for six amazing years of marriage. For holding my hand, for letting me hold yours. For catching my baby, for holding my babies, for helping make these amazing girls of ours. For helping to make our house truly a home.

We've Moved!

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 16 May 2010 17:21:00 +0000

No, not a new house. Just a new home on the WWW.

www.repeanut.wordpress.com

Come, join us. It's just as fun over there.

Katy

Mama Love

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Fri, 14 May 2010 06:15:00 +0000

I remember the first time I realized just how much I loved Ryan. It nearly knocked me to the ground. But I'm used to it now. I'm used to that feeling, and though it's always overwhelming, it doesn't knock me upside the head anymore.

What surprises me lately is just how much I love Finleigh. I knew I'd love her. I expected to love her. I'm just, once again, taken back by how much I love her. It's breathtaking.

I remember someone once telling me that she's step in front of a bullet for her kids. I was 22, and didn't understand it. Couldn't understand it. But it stuck with me. And I get it now. I'd step in front of a bullet for my girls. Without even thinking, I would do that for my kids.

It's a love that cannot truly be understood until you have children. Doesn't matter how they arrive into your life, whether by birth, adoption, surrogacy, or any other way you can think of to "birth" a child; mamas will step in front of trains for their babies.

This is how we survive, how we've survived. Once upon a time, it was bears and lions. Then it was militias and pillagers, and now, we parents are protecting our children from a myriad of villains. Predators, commercialism, Disney...it's a scary world out there.

I suppose, in the end, I'm more likely to step in front of a Disney movie for my kids.

Perfect light...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 09 May 2010 06:42:00 +0000

Today was another one of those PacNW days that reminds us all why we choose to live in the gray rain 300 days out of the year. Perfect sunshine, perfect breeze, perfect temperature. And all just in time for Mama's Day. It's like Mother Nature came out to celebrate with us human Mamas.

When I walked outside to take the dog out this morning, I was instantly hit with memories. Something about the sunshine, and no doubt my upbringing in California, but sunny mornings always offer up some kind of flashback for me. Today: shorts, sweatshirts, freezing legs standing around waiting for the school bell to ring (and secretly wishing it wouldn't), knowing full well that by lunchtime we'd all be sweltering, but jumping around trying to keep warm nonetheless. Smelling the grass, the dew, and the wind. But, of course, the new addition to that memory: knowing that my husband of almost 6 years, my four year old and my 7 week old (and a big cup of coffee) were waiting for me inside.

The day continued to remain pretty amazing: bikes, barbecue, beer, babies, and of course, bedtime. And bedtime is often my favorite part of the day. Not just because it signals a bit of an end to the "workday" for us mamas, but also because on a sunny day like this, it is the only time of day our little home is lit up. And our bedroom gets the most perfect light from 6-7pm. So, as I was getting ready to read Peanut her bedtime story, with Finleigh joining us to hear all about Barbie Fairy Elina saving spring, I caught this perfect light. A prism on the wall, my Peanut pensively pondering fairies (alliteration much?), and me, with only my point and shoot camera (a new DSLR is on it's way...I'm dying for it!).

And both of my girls waiting to hear their story. I love that Ryan loves her little sister this much.

I'm a lucky mama...and I live a charmed life. And I thank so many for it. My fabulous husband, my amazing parents, and the myriad of friends that make my life complete and without whom I wouldn't be half the mama I am.

Happy Mother's Day, friends and family.

Reflections...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 02 May 2010 06:45:00 +0000

Lately I've been spending a lot of time reflecting: on who I am, what I love, and what I might like to do with my life (well, our lives, really). Nursing a newborn gives a mama A LOT of time for retrospection.

These thoughts, as of right now, are quite incomplete, and just a jumble of ideas all over the place. Mama's plotting and planning, and trying not to get too far ahead of myself. Six weeks post partum is rarely a good time to make clear decisions about anything.

In the meantime, I'm really enjoying my new camera (have I mentioned that yet? Cause I really love it.). I've taken a few pictures of myself reflected in various windows lately, and I think I might have started something. Mama and her girls, reflected in the window of a Seattle Underwater exhibit at the Aquarium, gave me pause. It is, in a sense, us, reflected in our home. Or maybe it's our home reflected in us. Which is why I dig reflections, and the circular logic it requires to comprehend them. And why, out of all the thinking and reflecting I've been doing lately, I've got nothing but a jumble of thoughts.

Possibilities...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 04:39:00 +0000

I was looking at Finleigh the other day as she smiled her goofy newborn smile in her sleep (big, open mouth, just goofy) and thinking about what she may be when she grows up. This is something I wonder about my girls all the time...I'm sure most parents do. You look at your sweet baby, or your big kid (made to seem even bigger and more grown up in comparison to the new one) and imagine if they'll be mothers, teachers, lovers, friends.

It was a sweet moment.

And then, this sweet, smiling baby in my lap puked. Exorcist style, projectile, shooting out her nostrils puke. All over me. ALL OVER. Sweet moment FAIL.

Such is life with a newborn...who's no longer a newborn. She's 4 weeks old, a month on Thursday. Where did the time go? I wonder that as I look at this baby who is smiling at us all, cooing and gooing, napping and watching and taking it all in. She smiled for the first time this week: at Ryan. Moments like that are why we have more children; watching them interact is what it's all about.

And watching; I've been doing a lot of that lately. Observing, quietly, often through the lens of my camera, and learning more about my kids as I capture them on camera.

My kids. I still get a kick out of saying that. Or my girls. It's kind of like when Michael and I got married, and for months, got a total kick out of calling each other "my husband" and "my wife". And everytime I say, "my girls", Ryan reminds me that we're "our girls". She's always chatting with Finleigh, reminding her that big sister's here, that big sister loves her, and singing to her.

Speaking of the big sis...her funnies for the week:
hand santizer = "hanitizer"
"mommy, I'm polishing off daddy's oatmeal right now"

"papa, the table's all jacked up" (a favorite phrase in our house)

Finleigh Esther has arrived...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 05:21:00 +0000

And as is tradition in this family, she arrived with quite the fanfare.

I kept joking with my midwives that I wouldn't even recognize labor until my water broke, since that's how things started with Ryan. They thought I'd be OK. Heck, I was really only joking. I TEACH this stuff...c'mon. Contractions 5 minutes apart, lasting a minute or more, for more than an hour, hard enough that you have to breathe through them. Well, I had those contractions, but they didn't really hurt, and I didn't have to breathe through them unless I was sitting down. That probably should have been clue number one.

Let's back up a bit though...

Saturday (3/20) I decided that I was pretty much done being pregnant, and I was just about ready to do ANYTHING to get this kid out. I mean anything. I bought castor oil. But I didn't take it. I ended up just chilling on Saturday, going to the park, napping, going to a birthday party for Ryan's friend, falling asleep early.

Sunday (3/21) Operation Get Baby Out in full effect. We had no plans, as we'd kind of expected to have a baby by this point. So, off I went to walk, without the Peanut. She walks too slow, and I wanted a bit of time to myself. I headed to Redmond Town Center...I had a 30% off coupon for the Gap, and they had the one and only pair of jeans RE likes on sale. Got those for her, walked a LOT more, did some stairs, then got bored. Felt some cramps while I was walking, but certainly nothing that would stop me. So, I headed to Ben Franklin, and wandered around there for a while. Stopped at a drug store to buy an enema (told you, about ready to try anything), then headed to Trader Joes. Still crampy, but not bad at all. Grocery shopped, and got everything we'd need for the week. By this point, I was tired, so I headed home. Michael and RE were still out (they'd gone to run some errands too), so I decided to get Ryan's spring clothes all washed and ready to go. Then I facebooked (what else would I do?). Michael and Ryan got home, and we made one heck of a dinner (steak with beet and kale risotto - amazing).

After dinner, I couldn't sit still, and my back was really sore, but of course, I chalked it up to having been out all day. So, I folded the laundry, swept the floors, vacuumed, straightened the baby's stuff, cleaned the kitchen, then went off to do that one other thing that gets labor going...you know the one. Well, that might just have been the kicker. Contractions were a pretty consistent 5 minutes apart after that, but they still didn't really hurt (aside from that darn sore back). I sat on the ball while we watched TV and just kind of chilled out. Around 11, we thought maybe we should call the midwives just to give them a heads up that labor would probably be happening at some point that night. We called at about 1130 and my MW suggested I try to get some sleep. I was in bed by midnight.

At 1am, I woke up to a strong contraction (argh, that sounds like one of the things I read my labor classes...so rote). I laid there through it, because this had happened before and they'd faded away. But this one was long and strong. And the next one came pretty close...I think about 3 minutes apart. I tried getting on all fours, but it was horrible, and I was alone, in the dark, stuck in an awful position. I could barely move, but knew I had to get Michael. I hollered, but he sleeps like a brick and didn't hear me. I had to find my way out to the living room...I did, but barely. I made it to the dining room table and bent over it. I told him he had to call the MWs...we made that call at 1:37am.

I made my way back to the bedroom, since leaning over was the only comfortable position I could stand, and I'd rather lean on the bed. Michael bustled around getting the bed made up with the table cloth under it. Meanwhile I'm contracting every minute or so, lasting longer than a minute (time was pretty irrelevant at this point). My thoughts were a jumble of "ohgodthishurtsican'tbelievei'minlaborhowmuchlongerwillthislastthishurtssobadholyshit". I really had no idea how long this would all last. At some point, I realized I was pushing a bit...crap. The midwives weren't there yet. I yelled to Michael (no idea where he was, probably right by my side, but I really couldn't see anything) that I was pushing. He threw the second plastic cloth under where I was standing, which was a smart idea, as the next little push broke my water. Honestly, one of the thoughts I had at this point was something to the effect of "oh my god, I'm doing this, we're doing this, all by ourselves, and it's totally normal and this is birth and how it's really meant to happen, and I'm pushing with the urge, and no one's telling me what to do or how to do it and this is birth". The next push, which felt like only seconds later, really broke my water. And I mean full on huge gush of water...followed almost immediately by a little head. A head? What?! Where were the MWs?? Yeah, not there yet. Michael supported the head, and I yelled, "oh my god, is that a head? I think that's a head!" Michael replied that yep, it's a head, and was I ready to push out the rest of our baby? Nope, let me breathe for a second. I felt the next contraction, and with it, an amazing urge to push. I guess Michael helped guide the baby's shoulders out, one at a time, turning her a bit and helping her join this world. She squeaked, then cried, then really let it wail. I kept telling her to cry for mama. He handed her to me, but the cord was a little short, so we were in kind of a strange position. He had to help me up to the bed, as I started shaking from adrenaline almost immediately. Not sure how we got up there, but we did, and I flopped over, ecstatic, amazed, awed, and completely blown away. We didn't even really bother to check the sex, we were so overwhelmed with what we'd just done, together, alone. We were still alone. We checked - a girl! I'd known from the get-go...the moment the stick turned pink we were having another girl, but of course, I wasn't positive until she was in my arms.

Finleigh Esther was born at 2:04am on March 22, 2010. At home. Caught by her daddy. While RE slept (yes, slept through mommy yelling and screaming and moaning). And the midwives and friends drove.

Patty arrived first...Michael greeted her at the door, and told her that the baby was here. She was disbelieving. And then, apparently, a little panicked. But upon arriving in the room, realized all was OK. It was great to have her here...she got me a pillow, found some blankets for me, and just kind of held my head until the midwives arrived.

Lindsay got here the same time as the midwives...she was also in shock that the baby was already here. Well, so were the midwives, really! Lindsay started taking pictures almost immediately, since that was her job. I'm bummed there were no pics of the birth itself, but it was such an awesome experience I wouldn't trade it.

The midwives were a little concerned, of course, wanting to make sure the placenta came out...it was now about 20 minutes after birth and the placenta really showed no signs of wanting to separate. We gave it a few more minutes...then they had to do some manipulating to get it out, but it came out, cleanly, and without any excess bleeding, so we were all set. They checked me out, and were I think a little surprised to find that all was totally fine.

By this time, Finleigh was nursing, so we let her nurse, and chatted about what had happened, and laughed and talked until she was done and ready to be examined. We woke up Ryan at some point in here. She was super excited to meet her sister, and since she missed the whole placenta/umbilical cord thing, she was really into watching her get weighed and measured. She weighed in at 7 pounds, 8 ounces, and 20 inches long. A full pound and an inch and a half bigger than Ryan was. They hung around for a little while longer, and around 4am, everyone left. Patty helped get Ryan back to sleep, and Finleigh and I settled in for the rest of the morning to sleep.

Around 730, we woke up to Ryan wanting to make sure her little sister was really here. I'm sure she thought it might have been a dream. I know I was wondering the same thing myself...

At this point, I know it's cliche, but I can't imagine our household without Finleigh. She's a part of us, and an amazing part. She's certainly brought Michael and I closer together...who knew when I started dating him in high school that someday he'd be catching my babies!?

Welcome to the world Finleigh Esther. We love you.

A few completed projects.

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 22:09:00 +0000

The shirt I made for myself...so I'll have something pretty to wear after the baby arrives. Ryan loved the fabrics so much she asked for a dress made of it, so we'll try to get that happening for her soon.

I'm often asked what Ryan does while I sew...she plays with thread, fabric, scissors, pins, etc. She loves it, and I love that it's introducing her to sewing at an early age!

Used to be a wrap, now it's a few blankets, hats, and even a pair of pants! And it's the yummiest, softest knit. Love Wrapsody wraps!!

And the cute dress I whipped up for Ryan out of some pre-smocked fabric. Love that stuff...and she loves the dress.

Lots of crafting happening...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 22:01:00 +0000

...as a lovely way to pass the time waiting for baby.

Ryan made these shirts for the baby, very stylish. She even added her name to one of them, just in case we forget who the baby belongs to.

This is the massive pile of stuff I've got planned out...we'll see how much I get done before baby arrives!

Pluma Luma

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 23:50:00 +0000

Yeah, I know you don't know what that is.

I didn't either until RE explained it to me.

"Mom, Kimmie's (the imaginary friend) family has a new name."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. They're the Pluma Luma family now."
"Oookkkaaaay. And what is Pluma Luma?"
"Well, it's pink and purple and blue and white all mixed together and swirly."
"Cool, kiddo."

And that is now her favorite color.

This is what pluma luma looks like. On a VW Bug. Which is what Kimmie drives, because Kimmie is 22. Or somedays, she's 26. And somedays, she's 40, which RE knows is older than mommy, thus older than God!

She's got a wild imagination...and we love it. The things she comes up with sometimes just amaze us. She's also created some really elaborate directions to get to Kimmie's house in the woods, and has even drawn maps to it. It usually involves driving up there, around here, past the forest, over the river, around some rocks, and then, you're there! Kimmie lives in the mountains where it snows, you see.

She's also WAY into Barbies right now. And yes, I love it. Though I think she has more than I did at any point in my Barbie collecting days. The girl's got quite the collection. My favorite one? The one she calls "Holiday Hooker Barbie". It's the Target Holiday Barbie, and well, she looked like a hooker. So, when she unwrapped her, that was my first, uncensored reaction (I know, the verbal diarrhea has to end at some point). And that is now how she refers to that particular Barbie. Whoops.

Her best buddy, Wesley, got her a pink convertible Barbie car for her birthday...BIG HIT! It's quite possibly her favorite birthday thing. Barbie drives everywhere, with her seatbelt. She's also going to get a KEXP sticker on the back, because, well, KEXP is awesome. And I have to "cool" the car up a bit.

And of course, she's super excited to be a big sister. She runs up to my belly and gives big hugs, and tells me that this hug is for the baby, as she wraps her arms around literally, just the belly! Her sibling class is next week, with the infamous Penny Simkin and I, for one, can't wait. I know Ryan will love the class, and I know she'll love being a big sister. Though she has decided that should we give birth to a little brother, we should name it Poopy. Michael and I are thinking that's a NO. If it's a girl, she thinks we ought to call her Talleigh Rock Star. Yeah, we'll see.

And, she's four...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 06:52:00 +0000

Wow. Do we really have a four year old? I know we have a new one on the way, but I still can't believe that my first baby is 4 (or that my dog is almost 7). She's an amazing, funny, passionate, imaginative, surly little thing, and for all her challenges, I wouldn't trade her for the world. I've been grading some papers lately, and the high school seniors were asked to write about what love is. Their definitions, though they certainly evoked memories, focused solely on the only thing they can even fathom: romantic love.

What they don't know, the big secret, is that as amazing as it is to find another person to love, and be loved by, your soul mate, or whatever you call it, is that the love a parent has for a child is even more amazing. And the love one develops for the partner who helps you create that child is so much stronger than it could have been without. A parent will truly step in front of a train for their child. Give up nearly everything for that child...make changes she never thought she'd make, and become a person she never knew she could. I have grown so much as a person in the last four years...I barely recognize myself (this is a good thing). Much as I'm always changing and evolving, I feel like I really know myself, who I am, and what I want to be when I grow up someday.

An amazing role model for an amazing girl (and her equally amazing little sibling to come).

And so, Peanut, mama loves you...more than you'll know until you have babies someday. Happy Birthday little one.

Hurry up and wait...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 03:50:00 +0000

Being pregnant is an exercise in patience. And I'm not a particularly patient person. Now that this pregnancy has progressed to a point where I can no longer forget about it (amazing, I know, but I was so energetic that I'd actually forget I was knocked up), and it's limiting my abilities to do things, I'm ready to be done. No, I'm not ready for the kiddo to be out, it's not done cooking, but I'm ready for the baby, sure. The house is ready, more or less, my brain is ready, as much as it can be, and Michael, Ryan and I are all so curious about this little creature.

Now, we're antsy.

We've been a whirlwind of activity the last few weeks, doing this, running here, cleaning out that, and now that we're nearly done, it's kind of a let-down. We've run at least one truckload a weekend to the storage unit, and the house is actually starting to look uncluttered. We've given tons of our junk (one man's trash, and all that) to goodwill, and are selling some of the bigger items on craigslist (DVD towers, anyone?). We're picking up the changing table tomorrow...that's the last thing I need to be able to finalize all the baby organization.

What do you do when there's nothing left to do? I'm too tired to go out. We're too busy saving money to buy stuff (that never makes me happy anyway). I love to bake, but have a hard time finding people to eat it all (yay for upcoming birthdays). I'm in the mood to socialize, but in no mood to be around people. Ahhh, the end of pregnancy blahs. I'm really looking forward to this baby being here and feeling a little bit more like myself.

At least we've got Ryan and Michael's birthdays to entertain us in the meantime. And of course, mama will sew, but it's not a whole lot of fun to sew for a child whose gender is unknown to us. So Ryan will get more stuff, no doubt...Sure, I could organize more things, clean out more little nooks and crannies in the house (and I'm sure I will), but I guess I'm getting a little bored of that too. And tired. But it's so nice to have the house all sorted out before our new little whirlwind arrives. The tiniest little people make so much mess (laundry, mostly).

We're ready for you baby...now we've nothing left to do but hurry up and wait.

Out of wrapping paper.

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 17:39:00 +0000

Those that know me well know I love a bit of a Martha Stewart holiday. I like all my presents wrapped in the same paper, my tree decorated in a particular color scheme, and I have pretty strict guidelines on this. So much so that one year, I wrapped all of our gifts in this silver paper with white stars and tied green Pottery Barn twill tape onto each. It was the year after we got married, and we had that twill tape coming out the wahoo (didn't help that as a joke, a friend wrapped up a spool of it for us; he worked there). I loved that silver paper. Ryan's first holiday was entirely wrapped in that paper, and the pictures of the aftermath are some of my favorites.

Holiday 2006

But this year, I ran out.

It was bound to happen. I'd had this SAME ROLL of paper for at least 6 years (yay for Costco wrapping paper). I used it, like I said, for everything. For years. It was even generic enough that I wrapped a few wedding gifts in it. I'm not sure what to do now. I feel a little at a loss...do I buy a new roll of paper to define family holidays for the next 5 years? Or is it time to give up that ideal of the "perfect" holiday and just take it as it comes? Is this a good excuse to look for holiday fabric and make reusable bags for gifts?

Holiday 2007

And in a way, finishing this roll of wrapping paper signifies the end of a few different eras for our family. Michael and I both turned 30 in 2009, saying goodbye (hopefully) to the stupidity and recklessness of our twenties. 2010 will mark the arrival of our second child, and possibly a move into an actual home (one separate from our neighbors). I feel like we've let go of a lot in the last year: things, cars, baggage. And it's helped us to clear the way to move forward.

Holiday 2009, the last present wrapped with this paper.

So, farewell old silver with stars wrapping paper. Though I'll miss you, it's time to move on.

(And for the record, due to pregnancy hormones being in FULL GEAR, I'm crying as I type this. Yes, I'm admitting to crying over wrapping paper. I know it's a metaphor and all that, but geez.)

Holiday recap

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 04:06:00 +0000

The holidays, were, as always for us, a blur. I keep trying to find a way to capture some semblance of slow in a season that seems to thrive on fast, but so far, I've had little success. Between being pregnant (and getting ever moreso with each day), planning for travel, and trying to make most of our holiday gifts, there seemed little time or energy left to enjoy the quiet.

But we made it, we've survived, and as I type, I sit in my parent's living room, thinking about how strange it is to be back "home" when it's not really home anymore. I miss being home. I miss being home for Christmas. It's been lovely to spend the holiday with my family, but it's been hectic.

It all started with the plane ride, always a highlight for Peanut. Though I think she likes the idea of flying much more than being trapped on a plane! The next day, we had pictures taken with the ever fabulous Lori of Images by Lori. If you live in Pleasanton, or anywhere in the Bay Area, really, go see her next time you need family shots, kid shots, belly shots, baby shots, etc. She's truly, truly amazing. Ryan was a grump, but Lori still managed to get some great shots of her, and not only did we get fantastic belly pictures, but Ryan's 4 year pictures as well (it's only a month shy).

Wednesday we went to the Nutcracker in San Francisco. Amazing, as I suspected it would be...the dancers are phenomenal, choreography to die for and costumes were amazing. Ryan, unfortunately, was a little bored. I misjudged her abilities to sit through things like that, plus we met up with Uncle Mike and Aunt Allison as we were going into the show, so I think she was just super excited to see them and had a really hard time sitting still. She ended up dancing in her seat area for most of the show, humming along to the music. Each time a song came out that she recognized, she's whisper-shout "Nutcracker music!". She was also disappointed that she wasn't going to be onstage. I'm not sure how, but she was under the impression that she was going to be on stage in her fancy dress. Maybe in a few years...If I take her again next year, it will probably have to be a children's performance, or at least something a lot less pricey!! Traffic was awful coming home, and Ryan cried for about 40 minutes on the way home. WAY out of character for her...she's usually so easy going. We survived though, and she stayed up far too late playing with her Aunt and Uncle.

We did Christmas Eve as our big food/present day, and had a blast. Michael and I took over the kitchen, and cooked up quite a meal. Mike and Allison brought a fantastic butternut squash soup along with an apple crisp dessert, and helped us in the kitchen. The four of us had a great time, and it was another opportunity for Michael and I to spend a little more time with our sis-in-law. We're so glad she chose to join our crazy family...

Ryan loved opening presents from everyone, including the highlight of the day, her new bike from her Aunt and Uncle! The bike is awesome, and she loves riding it. It's a big girl bike, 2 wheels with training wheels, and we're still working on a plan to get it back to Seattle.

Christmas Day we all crept downstairs to see if Santa had in fact come to Nonna and Papa's house...he did!! Mommy and daddy are mean, and made her wait for us to brew coffee before we'd let her open anything, but she was patient. And as she was slowly opening her gift, she was telling Nonna and Papa all about how she asked Santa for a cash register and she realized what she was opening. She got SO excited, shouting that Santa did get her letter, and did bring her what she'd asked for and it was so cool and Santa is so cool, etc, etc, etc. It was sweet to see her so excited about all of it. She's at such a cool age for all of this. She got lots of other fun gifts from Nonna and Papa, and mommy and daddy. She also enjoyed handing presents around to everyone else.

This morning, we headed over to Vic's in Ptown for a fantastic breakfast. Standard issue eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast and yum, was it good stuff! We'll be heading back tomorrow for brekkie with a crew of old friends, some of whom we haven't seen in ages. We love how we can connect with this group, and it's like no time has passed, and yet we all mesh seamlessly into one another lives, still. We're older, chubbier, have kids now (or don't, and to be fair, some are thinner), and yet, are still entirely relevant to one another. It's really astonishing to see how connected we've stayed over the years.

And in the end, it's that connectedness that makes the holidays what they should be. Whether busy, slow, mellow or crazy, connecting with friends and family is what it's all about.

Because I couldn't have said it better...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 08:50:00 +0000

I'm sharing what a friend wrote today. I know it's been a while since I've blogged, and I'll get on that sooner than later, but Heidi of Silly Goose Baby blogged the other day about something I've mused rather heavily on for a while. And she said it better than I could have. Enjoy it.

Minor Remodel

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 06:47:00 +0000

Michael and I went all If You Give a Mouse A Cookie on our bathroom this weekend. Whoops.

It started with a sink given to us by friends. We looked at installing that, but alas, it was smaller than the hole in our counters. So, we thought, let's replace the counter. Easy, peasy, right? Sure, would have been. But then we decided to replace the whole bathroom cabinet. It was relatively cheap at Lowe's, and black, which matches the mirror we love. So, we get home, rip out the old cabinet, and discover the ickiest flooring EVER underneath the cabinet. So, we figure, let's replace the floor, too! We'll just do vinyl, but a nicer vinyl than what's there, and it'll look a million times better. Only vinyl is expensive. Almost as much as tile. So, we decide to do tile. But, as it's already 2pm on a Sunday, the tile will have to wait for another weekend.

We return home to install the other faucet in the other sink in the vanity. M pulls out the old faucet, and starts to clean the holes in the old sink, only to discover that it's actually got holes rusted in it. Yep, totally rusted out. Like, wonder how we were lucky enough that it didn't leak. So, back off to Lowe's for a new sink. One that fits. And he forgets the connector piece that will make it work. So, for now, we have one bathroom sink (which is enough), and tomorrow the other will be functional.

I love that we go to Lowe's for a piece of counter, and leave with: a new bathroom cabinet, plumbing accessories, a new rug for the living room, and ideas coming out the wahoo! Next big project? Kitchen counters.

Fall is here...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 17:41:00 +0000

Summer's been busy, and blogging's been slow, but I'm hoping that a slowdown in activity of late, and a general love for fall will spark my interest in writing again. Plus, for those who don't know, I'm knocked up, and being knocked up gives me something new to write about. How knocked up am I? About 15 weeks...so no, not quite in Puerto Rico, this one is a post-vacay baby (wink, wink).

So, the haps on the pregnancy...so far, so good. Baby's doing well, mama's surviving, despite the inability to nap whenever I feel like it, or to eat whenever I feel like it. That's probably the biggest difference between this one and the last. I'm exhausted, as I was when I was pregnant with RE, but I can't just crash on the couch whenever I feel like it. I've got another human to attend to (or two, depending on the day). I also can't eat strange food whenever I want, simply because it's not as easy to get at strange food at all times of day or night, and Michael is much less amenable to driving around at 10pm looking for Frosties and grapefruit. Apparently he thinks I'll survive (doesn't he know?).

This birth will happen at Puget Sound Birth Center, under the care of midwives, and hopefully using HypnoBabies techniques to stay calm and collected during contractions. I'm hoping for, but not betting on a quick labor (only because Ryan was)...and trying to not get my hopes up. I'm also not getting my hopes up for an early baby again. Really, what are the odds? I'm excited to give birth with fewer (no?) interventions, and to really find a way to trust that my body can do this (it's done it before). I'm also looking forward to experiencing another birth...I'm sure that sounds strange to many, but for someone like me, who's life's work is now teaching about and supporting a physiological childbirth, I'm looking forward to experiencing one. I'm also, of course, looking forward to a new squishy, snuggly newborn in the house, and though I know it'll be challenging, I can't wait to sling a newborn again, nurse a newborn again, and just generally snuggle with a tiny. Ryan's also really excited to be a big sister, and thinks it's a girl (or just really wants it to be). We won't be finding out at the ultrasound this time, so we'll find out in March/April!! Also looking forward to that surprise, and experiencing that differently too.

Fall always brings change, and with that this blog will not only be about our family, and all the crazy that is us, but also about my crafts and sewing. I was trying to run them separately, but it just ain't happening, because, well, I can't separate one from the other! Crafting is life, sewing is life, and family is life, and they don't easily come apart. So look for fun crafty stuff and ideas on this blog going forward.

I owe First Day of School Pictures!

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 04:30:00 +0000

She had a fantastic day...loves preschool. She asks almost every night if the next day is "preschool day" and she can't wait to keep going back. She thoroughly enjoys playing with whatever messy art project is available for the day, and every morning, heads straight to the little table with the "flubber" (weird gluey/playdough-ish contcoction) to play for a bit before moving onto what's next. Each day, when she gets in the car, the first thing she tells me about school is what they've had for snack. Day one: goldfish. Day two: graham crackers. Apparently, preschool is pretty awesome because they have good snacks. Sometimes she'll tell me more, sometimes not. Usually it'll come out as the day progresses. I think it's a lot for her to process all at once and she needs some quiet time to reflect on her day.

What I find fascinating about the whole thing is that this is the beginning of my little girls' school career. She's three and a half, and will be in school for the next 15 years. FIFTEEN! And of course, this has me thinking about the state of public schools, and how we, as parents, will be able to help her succeed despite what's happening in the schools these days (maybe by the time she gets to high school, a "D" will no longer be considered passing). It's a lot to process, and though it seems as though we have tons of time, we don't. Kindergarten is a mere 2 years away, and as is the truth in parenting, the days are long but the years are short.

And for those who were wondering, despite my insane pregnancy hormones, I DID NOT cry on the first day of school (or the second, or the third). Really, Ryan and I were both very ready for this, and I've been enjoying my quiet time to get things done as much as she's enjoying the time to learn and play with other kids her age.

A new coat for Peanut

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 04:14:00 +0000

In honor of the fall weather that's trying SO hard to creep into our lives (I'm welcoming it, but apparently I'm the only one), I whipped up a quick little coat for RE. Well, actually, this is a practice run, made from some totally adorable $1/yd IKEA fabric. The REAL coat will come soon, made from some fabulous loden green vintage wool given to me by my granny, but I wanted to try the pattern first on some less important fabric.

I've been trying hard to muster up energy these days (many of you know I'm a little bit knocked up at this point), and today, thanks to a lovely nights sleep and an at-home-husband, I found it!

RE loved it, which is always a bonus...I love that she's still of an age where she likes that I can make her things. I know that someday this will go away (maybe not though) and I'm enjoying and taking advantage of it while I can!

And, a nod to that summer weather that just won't quit:

RE's last ballet class

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 03:12:00 +0000

The days of my daughter being a ballerina are on hold for now. Her second series of classes ended today, and seeing that preschool starts in 3 weeks (OMG!!), we're putting ballet on hold for now. I don't think it's going to derail her chances of joining PNB.

On the last class of each series, the parents are invited in to watch. We normally have a 6"x3' window in the door to watch through, and this is a good thing. The girls are less distracted, and actually pay attention to the teacher. When we're in there, all hell breaks loose and it's like herding cats in tutus.

I don't think she'll miss it...and if she does, we'll look into trying it again. She enjoys it, and shows me the things she does in class, but I think she may be more of a tap girl than a ballerina. We'll see!

Ryan and her little pals, Clara and Caroline (which sometimes turns into "Claraline).

Feeling Restless

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 03:08:00 +0000

I've been feeling antsy for a while now. It's annoying me, because my New Years resolution was to be content, and honestly, I've been doing a pretty decent job of it.

But lately, I've felt restless.

I feel like I'm ready to start a new adventure, a new journey, a new something. I've got a few things in the works (to share later), but nothing solid enough yet that it feels real.

Is it time to move (not out of the Seattle area)? Time to change careers (doubtful)? Time for new people (I can't imagine it)?

So really, I've no idea what to do about this restless feeling I'm having right now. Instead of dwelling on it too much, I'm eating chocolate. And for now, that's working.

Puerto Rico

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 05:59:00 +0000

Every time I travel, I am struck by the ethnocentricity of American tourists (yeah, yeah, myself included). This is not only when I travel to an area where English is not the main language, but even when I’m traveling within the US. Michael and I just spent a week in Puerto Rico, which, though technically a US territory (or colony, depending on my mood), is a very Latin place. Spanish is the primary language, and I speak just the tiniest bit, having favored French in high school (dumb move, I see now).

But at least we tried.

When we walked into Puerto Rican restaurants, we didn’t assume that the waiters spoke English, or that the food would be anything we recognized. Isn’t that the point of traveling? We wanted to try new things, eat traditional PR food, drink local coffee, try local brews. Case in point: first night there, we asked the bellhop where to get good coffee. His reply was quick and finite: There’s a Starbucks just a few blocks down. We responded with: No, REAL coffee. We know it’s grown here and we want local coffee, not crap. He laughed, and pointed us to Pelayo, which, as it turns out, was FANTASTIC. Local flavors, local coffee, yummy frittatas and empanadas and cafe con leche. We went back a few times. And yes, we spoke extraordinarily broken Spanish to the nice girls at the counter. I can ask for coffee! Thankfully, seeing our attempts, they answered us in English. But, like I said, I try not to assume.

This was the restaurant recommended to me by my first class seat mate: Archbishop of San Juan Roberto Gonzalez. It was a little out of our price range. But nonetheless, I sat next to a regular celebrity. Me, a lapsed Jew who spent 4 years in Catholic school. Hhmm.

The other thing that struck us almost immediately was the pace. It’s so slow! Not that that’s a bad thing…we could stand to learn a thing or ten from puertorriquenos. At restaurants, they give you plenty of time to peruse the menus while you drink your cocktail or coffee, plenty of time to enjoy your appetizers before your meal comes, and the waitstaff leave you alone entirely to enjoy your meal, only stopping if it appears your drink is empty, and to enquire your reaction to the food. Eating a meal can easily take 2 hours, something unheard of in American restaurants, by and large. And every place is like this. No one hurries, except to cross the street (if you value your life and limbs, that is).

The first day, we wandered the streets near our hotel, the Condado neighborhood, and found it to be touristy and a little trashy. We got caught in a torrential downpour, as we both forgot that a little rain in that part of the world usually leads to a LOT of rain in short order. Whoops. We dashed across the street to a French bakery, and gratefully accepted the pile of napkins they offered us to dry off with.

Did I mention our room was on the 10^th floor overlooking the ocean? Michael’s got the hookup, and man, were we hooked up! We slept the first few nights with our glass door open (heck, it’s the 10^th floor, no one’s coming up) listening to the waves. Then we realized that the mosquitoes were going to eat Michael alive if we continued that, so we had to stop. Bummer.

The following day, we headed to Old San Juan, the site of the early history of the area. We walked several miles of Forts and streets, ending up exhausted. We spent a while wandering through forts of San Cristobal and El Morro, absorbing all of the history each had to offer. Michael in particular enjoyed the military history of the forts. I’d had no idea the streets of Old San Juan would be so amazing…I love cultural history, and this was a city that was not lacking. The old homes, with dark wood shutters and brightly painted exteriors were so Carribean, so coastal, I instantly fell in love. Just looking at the way these homes have been kept up, refurbished and refinished, one can see the passion of these people. The streets were alive with color and people. We found several old churches (SJ has a rich history with the Catholic Church), and though we didn’t go in, we were able to admire them from the outside. The white stucco (I think it was limestone of sorts) contrasted so beautifully with the blue skies. Combined with the religious iconography, I couldn’t help feeling like I was looking through my camera lens at a Dali painting. Too bad my camera isn’t awesome enough to capture what I could see through it. Someday soon, I’ll have a “real” camera.

We stumbled on a food fair as we walked through town, though we were too tired to take advantage of it that night. We were again struck at the passion of the Latin culture, and the marked contrast between American culture and Latin culture. Americans are SO reserved, except where it’s acceptable: in nightclubs, bars, late at night. Latin’s seem to let loose day and night. We went back to OSJ on Saturday, after spending all day laying on the beach. Silly me forgot to put sunscreen on my legs, and ended up super crispy, so I donned a loose skirt and tank top and out we headed. I was always amazing at how put together the women were, despite the humidity. When I walk out in to humidity like that, I’m instantly damp, makeup melts off my face, and my hair curls like nobody’s business. The locals must be used to it. They wore makeup that stayed put, hair that stayed straight, and more clothing than I could stand in that heat. I presume one gets used to it when one lives there, but being a West Coaster, and not at all used to humidity, I was amazed (and a weensy bit jealous).

The food was fantastic…we found an Italian restaurant called Fratellis that served yummy lamb, orchiette, and nutella raviolis for dessert. We wandered the streets for a while after that, just enjoying people watching, trying to guess who was American and who was local (it was pretty easy), and musing about whether we looking as much like tourists as some of the other tourists. As Michael and I always do when we travel, we imagine what it would be like to live in this place, to raise children in a new place. Could we do it? Could we defect out of the mainland US and live as expats in another country? Maybe if I could live in the green house…with the dark wood shutters and doors, and beyond the front living area, a courtyard. And maybe if it was at least on the west coast. After the grueling journey (14 hours and three flights), I couldn’t subject my family to this on a regular basis. Maybe, instead, I could bring the Carribean here…I’m plotting a dream home that includes a courtyard. The courtyard needs to make a comeback, and the PacNW is a good place to have one.

Sunday we hit the Museum of Art, which was, unfortunately, the only thing open in that neighborhood on a Sunday. We were both surprised at the depth and quality of the art. It was all Puerto Rican artists, and though much of it was religious, the more contemporary art was all social commentary, and it was fascinating. Thank God I married a man who enjoys art museums as much as I do! We’ll work on RE…for now, she’s too young to appreciate art like that, though I’ve tried, and will continue to try. For the admission price ($6 each), it was a great way to spend half the day. If we weren’t so hungry, we probably would have stayed longer. That night, we went for a walk near the hotel and found some live music at a local trattoria, so we ordered up some mojitos and enjoyed the jazz fused with beats from a DJ. Again, we commented on the life that seemed to flow from the community: kids dancing, old men dancing, people hanging out in the park at 11pm, talking, laughing, drinking (but not drunk). We tried to compare it to a late night in Seattle, and thought that if anyone was really out at that point, they would probably have been belligerent, rather than just enjoying what life had to offer without crazy drunkenness.

On Monday we headed back to OSJ…just to absorb the culture some more, and ogle the beautiful old homes. I’d read that Puerto Ricans were once famous for making lace, and I wanted to try to find some. A travel site told of a museum of arts and crafts that was in an old Dominican Convent, so we headed there.

It was closed. So was La Casa Blanca, the old governors’ mansion that was decorated with period furniture and artifacts. Bummer. No lace and no casa. But, we did find Michael a custom made panama hat, and me a beautiful silk scarf the colors of the Atlantic ocean.

And we noshed on coffee and empanadas in front of a café in a square, and watched as a young girl fed pigeons from her hand…she was so sweet to watch, and it all felt so very Mary Poppins (save the Marshalls that was behind us. Yes, a Marshalls).

Tuesday, we spent on the beach, and Michael swam in the waves. I huddled under the umbrella while a storm passed, and thought how fitting it was that it was grey, stormy and cool on my last day there. For dinner, we hit up the same trattoria we’d had drinks at the other night. The Italian food was amazing: smoked salmon crostini with raita, a sausage platter with pesto, and a crispy crust tomato pizza with gorgonzola. It was a perfect way to end the trip.

And now, here I am, 14 hours into my journey home, waiting to kiss and snuggle my girl when I land in Seattle. I’ve been on and off airplanes all day, and the only real fresh air I’ve inhaled was in LA (does that even count as “real”?). I cannot wait to be off this plane. Almost 2000 words in an hour…that’s what a boring flight, with no books left to read (I’ve started and finished 6 this week) will get you: prolific blathering about the vacation.

But what good is a vacation if you can’t take something back with you? What am I taking back? A nice tan (my NW friends may be jealous), a small jar of sand, seaglass and shells for RE, a few mosquito bites, and an appreciation for slowness. Not that I haven’t appreciated it before, I was just too busy rushing from A to B to really stop to slow down. That is the one thing I’d really like to take back with me. Oh, and I’m ordering this sign to put at the front door.

For the rest of the pics, click here!

Reflection and Reflexes

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Wed, 20 May 2009 06:01:00 +0000

Do you ever start a blog post with every intention coming back to it? You even leave yourself a lovely, poignant title with which to recall the thoughts you'd meant to capture, but alas, you have no freakin' clue what you meant by it?

yeah. that's this one. probably would have been interesting too.

Emptiness

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Wed, 20 May 2009 05:51:00 +0000

I had a parent ask me in a labor and birth class the other night what it felt like after I'd given birth, and if I felt lighter (a lot of the moms have complained of that heavy feeling late in pregnancy).

Without missing a beat (or thinking) I responded:

"Empty. I felt empty."

And I didn't mean it in a negative way, but rather, in a sort of sad way. Melancholy, I suppose. I remember really mourning pregnancy, and the loss of having Ryan inside me, and the realization that I'd now REALLY have to share her, and care for her on the outside. It was more than just that my body had been emptied, but it's really hard to describe it.

I think the closest I can get is that it's like an amputee. You know your leg is gone, but it still itches sometimes, still hurts, and you still think you'll be able to reach down and touch it.

Pregnancy is a little that way.

Your babe is here, and you are holding, touching, nursing and caring for her, but you still think that you'll reach down and touch that huge belly, you feel "phantom kicks" and would SWEAR that you're pregnant (but you're not), and sometimes, years later, you feel phantom milk let-downs, again, swearing that you're about to look down to find two huge wet spots on your shirt.

And so, as you celebrate the birth of your child, you mourn the loss of your pregnancy. It's an important step, and giving yourself some time to mourn it is important. Again, this just came up, and I felt like I needed to write it out...for all the challenges, I LOVED being pregnant, loved that feeling of having another human being growing inside me, and loved bringing her into this world. And to love something that much, is to mourn it when it's gone.

32 weeks, November 2005

To all my mamas...

noreply@blogger.com (RE: peanut) — Sun, 10 May 2009 04:21:00 +0000

I've been thinking a lot about Mother's Day, and thus, all the moms in my life who all mean so much to me. There are so many women who've really helped shape the way I mother our child, and the way I behave as a mother, I can't even count them all.

Some, I've known my whole life. Since the moment I was born, my mom's been a permanent fixture in my life. The person who's there for me, regarding anything and everything at nearly any time. The women without whom I don't even think I'd know how to be a good mother to RE, or (honestly) sometimes an imperfect mama to RE, and that it's OK to be imperfect, to F up sometimes, to have a toddler who uses the word sh!t (correctly, mind you). Mom's the one who taught me the value of sing-a-longs (no, we're not talking Disney here; think Hello Dolly and "California Dreamin'"), dance-a-longs (Grease, Footloose, Dirty Dancing), and story telling. Mom taught me to bake and sew, two things I just may have surpassed her skills on...at least, I know I can rock a better chocolate chip cookie. Mom taught me that it's OK to have cocktails at 3 in the afternoon with your good friend (I know, it was only once, but I'll never forget it).

Other mamas came into my life as I was growing up...friend's moms, moms who did things a little differently than my mom. Moms who didn't wear sweats all day (I get it now, mom), who went to work outside the house (thank you for not), who made exotic things for dinner. But in the end, no matter how close I got to those moms, they weren't my mom, and that's the important part. The grass is never greener, and it took me a very long time to learn that.

Then, there's my partner's mom. Indirectly, she's had a huge influence on the way I parent. She raised an amazing boy into an even more amazing man, who supports and loves me and helps me to be a pretty cool mom (he's a pretty cool dad, too). He was raised to respect women, put the toilet seat down, eat his veggies and wear babies, and for this, I cannot thank his mother enough.

And of course, the mamas who came into my life after having had RE, and the friends who became mamas somewhere in there, the mamas who are now some of the most important people in my life, the women I count on day in and day out, to share the joys and challenges of parenting toddlers (and so many of you, infants). Women with whom I share ideas, creative recipes, and bitch sessions. Women whose birth stories have ignited fires within me, whose parenting stories have set off tears, and set us laughing 'till our sides hurt. These women are also, in large part, why I am who I am. Though the earliest foundation for being a mama came from home, more recent inspiration comes from friends (who are like home). For our friendships, I am eternally grateful, and I truly hope that someday, when our kids are all, like, 40, we'll be sitting at their weddings telling stories about when they were babies.

I hope that someday, RE will think of mommy and remember singing to Mamma Mia in the car, dancing to rockabilly in the living room and "sewing" with me at the machine...it's the everyday moments that become history, isn't it?

Though I ran out of time to make you all something, I truly hope this letter can count as a Mother's Day gift. I don't know that you all know how much you mean to me...

Katy