In Our Spare Time

Now that it has been getting hot and humid, the entire family is lounging in the baby suite aka the only air conditioned sanctuary downstairs. Most nights you will find us surrounding Wyatt taking turns to see who can get him to laugh the hardest and eating Carvel. It's the good life.

I was told that the video was acting wonky so here is another for good measure...

The Horrific Rules

Rebecca recently received a book called The Rules. It is a book of rules that women should use to get a guy to marry them. I am not going to go into how she obtained this book. I believe it was well intentioned but thoroughly misguided. Rebecca is an amazing women and entirely capable of attracting men without following rules. It has become somewhat of a focal point to our dinners lately. I am wildly intrigued and completely shocked all at the same time. This book has made my jaw drop every time I have picked it up.

Here is a taste of The Rules: Be a creature unlike any other. Even if your not carefree and happy pretend to be. Don't talk to a man first. Always move around in a social setting, never sit. Don't stare at a man, look demurely. Don't talk to much. Don't call him and rarely return his calls. Always end phones calls or dates first. Don't accept a Saturday night date after Wednesday. Men like women who are fashionable and sexy, in bright clothing. Don't expect a man to change or try to change him. No more then casual kissing on the first date. Don't open up to fast. Be honest but mysterious. Count to 5 before saying yes to a date. Don't get sloppy with your looks. Always wear lipstick and look your best even when going to the gym. Change your bad habits. Men like women who are neat and clean. Pause between sentences, don't babble on out of nervousness, breathe slowly, and walk briskly with your shoulders back. Respond once for every four of his emails. Close the deal - do not date men for more than two years.

So, pretty much I'm screwed. No, kidding. I am astounded that things like this exist. Utterly dumbfounded that post-feminist women would govern their actions by a rule book. This book was on the bestseller list!! It is baffling. However, I find myself enticed. I would never follow these rules but want to know what they are. It is like someone picking their nose in the car next to you at a stop light. I know I shouldn't watch but I have to because its disgusting. Like when someone at work farts accidentally, I don't want to be the adolescent girl laughing but I am.

I do like the concept of not giving men top priority. I find that most women focus too much on men, revolve their lives around men, myself included. Some of these rules seem to discourage placing too much emphasis on dating. Focusing on the principle that you have to have a life in order to have a love life. However, rather then pretending not to care or be unavailable, you should actually not care. Don't accept Saturday dates after Wednesday because you ACTUALLY have plans. Find a person that is an pleasant addition to your already fulfilled life rather than finding someone to be your life.

Other then that, trash. How can you possibly base a marriage off of false pretense? Marriage is about commitment to a person because you love them, flaws and all. I certainly won't expect my husband to wake up before me to make himself look his best. Why should he expect that of me? I am human. I am not perfect. I slouch! I ramble when I'm nervous! I forget to shave my legs! I return phone calls! I would never expect a marriage to last when I have been playing games, pretending, and constructing a facade for the entire relationship. Besides, I want to be myself. I want a marriage based on honestly, trust, and value. I think I am a pretty good catch despite my flaws. These rules might find me a husband but guaranteed it will end in divorce as soon as he discovers I poop. The Rules are made to be broken.

Blender Bitty

I have always been a fan of the blender. Margaritas, strawberry daiquiris, mudslides, mcgoofys, anything that I can whip up with some crushed ice I am a huge fan. However, as of late, my blender has been put to the test for an entirely different, less alcoholic, purpose. I have begun my foray into making my own baby food. Yes, that's right. I have officially lost my mind.

My thought process was I want Beaner to start off organic. There are so many harmful chemicals, additives, hormones in our food that while he is young I feel it is safer and much healthier to steer clear of processed food. Once his immune system is up and running I will ease up a little. Gerber does make a bunch of organic baby food but despite what the package says there has to be something more in there. How on earth can mashed up apples stay on the shelf for up to a year without being refrigerated? Riddle me that, Batman. In addition, they only make the essentials in organic, ie bananas, pears, apples, peas, carrots. There is a whole lot more out there. What about mango, plums, edamame, and avocado? Have they fallen off the food chart? I want him to be able to eat anything I put in front of him, best start him off early.

This task has been daunting from the very beginning but surprisingly it is getting easier. I go to Whole Foods on my lunch break and spend obscene amounts of money on organic produce. I swear I am going to go broke going organic but Wy is totally worth every penny. At home there is pealing, dicing, pitting, sometimes cooking, then blending with some breast milk. The blending is the fun part. It makes me feel like I am about to enjoy something delicious. Then I dump it all into ice cube trays, cover, label, and freeze. Pretty simple, yet satisfying. It makes me feel like I am going that extra mile without much effort.

I am sure I should invest in a food processor. It might be better then a blender but I am far from a domestic diva and don't really understand the difference. The functioning is the same, right?! They liquefy food or drinks. What exactly is the difference? Call me ignorant but I don't understand tons of electric kitchen equipment. The Dr said we should start with easy fruit, no citrus, no berries. Then on to orange vegetables, then green. By the way, the definition of fruit is anything with seeds, right? Going on that, are cucumbers and tomatoes fruit or vegetable? I thought they were vegetables. Anyway, any ideas for my next batch of baby food?

Oh and a PS - Happy Birthday Madre!!

Mom Wars

Most moms that I have come in contact with, in my 4 months of motherhood, are rather nice but I have been finding, especially with new moms, there is this competitiveness. Everyone wants to be better than the next. It feels like by criticizing my mothering techniques that they somehow feel better about their own. Or being a novice mother makes me a bad mother. I tend to chalk it up to self-confidence. But its weird and unexpected. I guess I thought it would be like joining a huge mom club.

I am pretty open about my uneducated ways of mothering. I don't really know what I am doing so I do what feels right to me. I think that is the best advice I can give new parents. Trust your instincts. It's your child, do what is right by them and what feels comfortable for you. Older moms or moms with several kids are generally pretty open about offering good advice or reminiscing about younger days with younger children. New moms tend to be nit-picky. Making snide comments like "oh, he's not rolling over yet?" or "it is a little hot for that outfit isn't it?" or "I would never work full time" or "you're feeding him solids already?" or "but I'm breastfeeding." automatically assuming I'm not. It makes me question myself sometimes. I'm not perfect but I highly doubt anyone is.

I know I am doing a good job but because everything is so new all the time it is hard to be confident 24/7. I wish my friends would start having kids so I wouldn't have to wear armor. So, I could confide in someone else who is going through the same thing. So, I wouldn't feel stupid about confessing I don't know a lot. That is the worse thing you can do. Confess you don't know what you are doing. Then the entire mom brigade charges into your home, yells at you for being inadequate, and steals your baby. Seriously, that is what it feels like. God forbid I admit I am new to babies. I am going to start putting the pressure on my newlywed friends. I need some mom friends who aren't going to get grossed out when I talk about my boobs.

Vitals - Part 3

So, Wy Bug had a doctors visit on Friday and the stats are:

17lbs 7oz
27.5 inches

Seriously, at the rate he is going I will be lucky if I can pick him up by 8 months. They said he should slow down with the weight gain a little. Although, I highly doubt it. He is healthy and happy that is all the matters to me. She also gave approval to put him on some more solids. So, this weekend we did bananas and apples. For the record, I HATE bananas. The smell makes me nauseous, the texture freaks me out, and the sound they make when you eat them is disgusting. Everything about bananas rubs me the wrong way. Mom has been mashing them up for me and I have been lovingly feeding them to Wy trying will all my might not to make funny faces. He seems to like them. I am in hell. The picture is of both of us covered in bananas. For this kid, I will do anything.

The Art of Flight

This is Bean's new favorite thing. I hold him in the air and sing "Let's Go Fly a Kite". He laughs every time. Unfortunately, by the time he is up there I only have a few go arounds before my arms feel like jelly. We all say he loves flying already.

Pappy

Imagine you have three daughters. During your 50's, two of them move out seemingly never to return both eager to start their own lives. The third is soon moving out going to college herself. You are looking forward to spending retirement years sipping margaritas, watching the Mets win every series, playing numerous rounds of golf, and relaxing in the quiet comfort of the home you have dutifully paid off most of your adult life. Now, imagine your eldest daughter gets pregnant while not married and moves home, then the other moves home to help, then the third expresses interest in Med school not so far because she wants to be home on the weekends. Your quiet retirement bubble quickly bursts as additions are put on, more money goes out, and you accept more hours at your second job. Your home becomes over run with baby paraphernalia and there are more women in the house then ever before making you frightened to step in the door and face to-do-lists longer then humanly possible. Your only solace is your grandson who hopefully will grow up to mow the lawn although unlikely because the women spoil him rotten and don't want him to get his popped collar dirty.

I am sure you can only guess who I am referring to. These past few months have been hard on my Dad. If I got pregnant under the best circumstances I am sure it would have been hard. He sticks his head in the sand when hearing daughter and sex in the same sentence. I believe he had himself convinced that we all were waiting for marriage. I blew that one up real quick. I owe him some extra debt of gratitude this fathers day, specially for not throwing me out on my ass and also for refraining from hitting Terry. Three Cheers!

Reflecting back on the years, my Dad can always be counted on for a laugh. Tickle torture is elevated to an art form with him. When I was 13 years old, he tickled me so furiously I lost my breath and actually wet my pants in Toys R Us. 13 years old. I kid you not. He took us to Bonanza's in Oyster Bay almost every Saturday to get Italian ices. He would take us to return bottles and then spend the money we got on YoHoos. Spent countless hours at Teddy Roosevelt Park running behind bicycles and then behind gangly girls on roller blades. He coached each of our softball little leagues, that itself should win him a medal. We were all terrible, except a brief stint with Rebecca as catcher. I was far more interested in gossiping with my friends on the team then catching pop-flys. Yet, he would cheer us on every game and get riled up at even the slightest improvement. When mom was away once, my stomach was hurting and I went downstairs to tell dad. Just as the words were coming out of my mouth so was about 3 gallons of projectile vomit, all over Dad and the chair he was sitting in. Honestly, I think he cursed a little but then lovingly escorted me to the bathroom covered in 8 year old vomit.

As weird as it may sound, I can't wait for Terry to come home and get covered in vomit. I am positive that Wyatt will have just as many memories made with Terry in the drivers seat. Terry has the potential to be an amazing father. I have seen it in him, his love for his family, dedication, and devotion. Wyatt is lucky to have such a strong role model to adore. Terry is blessed to have an amazing side kick that will surely become his proudest achievement. Terry's potential will be realize and for the next few months we are praying for September to come quickly. Happy Father's Day to all you Daddies out there.

Where the Trouble Started

Terry and I met in high school, 10th grade English class with Mrs. Tippy. Being a new student, Terry immediate gained the celebrity status typical of a 120 person graduating class. I remember him making some charismatic speech and thinking he would be perfect for the upcoming play I was involved in. He reminded me of another Terry, a few years older then me, that I adored. Oh, and he was cute, in that rugged, fun loving, bad boy, quiet way. With my motivations in place, I courageously struck up a conversation and Terry and I became quick friends. For those wondering he did join the theatre group and I've got black mail pictures to prove it. Terry is on the far right in that picture in a kilt and a hat with a pom-pom!!! I am on the far left in character shoes. Oh, to be in high school...

Rebecca had an appointment at the high school recently and was demanded to bring Wyatt. She said that he was paraded around the school, smiling, laughing, and generally charming the pants off of all the faculty. Most of the conversations went "Do you remember Kate and Terry? Well, this is their son. Isn't he gorgeous!?!" The ohh's and ahh's followed. They even interrupted a class at one point. Thankfully, the Wyatt parade didn't run into Lizzy as I am sure she would have been mortified. Teachers, hall monitors, lunch ladies, guidance counselors all stopped to marvel at their former students creation.

The reason I bring this up is I believe Wyatt is starting to get used to all this attention. He is the Library mascot, his face plasters the walls at the Florist, my job wants to set up a playpen in the small conference room, family visits are more frequent, the list goes on and on. Every new move he makes there are about 12 people clapping, cheering, and urging him on. I am getting worried. He is going to get into preschool and expect the teachers to salute him when he walks in the door. Or throw a parade when he cuts a straight line with scissors. Or get the entire class clapping when he pees in the big potty. This madness must stop before his head gets any bigger than it already is.

On a side note, it was Lizzy's 17th birthday yesterday. I remember once on Terry's birthday his mom got him this singing gorilla to follow him around school. I believe she also got Kelly Ann a singing chicken. I was threatening Lizzy with that all day. I told her I was going to dress up in the cow costume we have and dress Wyatt in his bear suit and follow her around all day singing. The only reason I didn't was because she probably would never speak to me again. It would have been classic I'm telling you. Holla to the high school kids out there!

17 weeks

Goose,

For the past three days you have been living in a diaper due to a heat wave and you couldn't be happier. I love your naked body of perfection, every wrinkle a masterpiece with skin silky smooth. You had many visitors this weekend including Aunt Kelly Ann, Aunt Kelly, Pawel, and a dinner party with your cousins from Australia and Opa's family. All of which saw you naked. You might be embarrassed by this later in life but you are far too gorgeous, like David you owe it to others to wander around in the buff. Besides, by the time you are embarrassed they will have forgotten what you looked like.

You are doing very well with your cereal. You open your mouth wide, get a mouth full of cereal, then shove your fist in as a dessert. Usually, you get it all over yourself and me while you're at it then its straight to the bath. You still love bath time but I think it is more of the process leading up to bath time that you love. As soon as I walk into the bathroom you start smiling at yourself in the mirror. You get all excited and squirmy just to sit in the water and suck on a washcloth. Then I give you a little massage with some lotion and you're all smiles every time. All I have to do is rub my hands together and your grinning. I am very brave to sit in front of you while you're naked but we have an agreement. You have only peed on me twice and I blame Oma for squeezing your belly to much. I am still terrified to give you a bath by myself. I am sure that I could if I tried but you are so slippery. Its all hands on deck especially now that you are lunging for the floating crab, alligator, or octopus bath toys.

You have discovered your feet! You stare at your toes mesmerized by their movement. Then you bend in half and try to get them. Once you grab onto your big toe or your socks you just sit there. Its hysterical. Rebecca claims you have even got your feet into your mouth but I don't believe it until I see it. (Jen - do you notice the shirt in the picture? Fits great!!) I am waiting for you to roll over but rather then exert the effort you whine a little and at least three people come running to help flip you. You would rather be sitting or standing so you can look around, be nosey and take everything in.

Last night we were all holed up in the AC with you being the center of attention. As I observed all of our smiling faces it dawned on me how incredibly proud I am of our family. We might not have much, you and I, but we are surrounded by love. I am so proud that everyone has reached out to us with open arms. Proud to be part of this semi-dysfunctional unit that ignores our faults, praises our successes, and is laughing every step of the way. You became the glue that has woven us closer as a family. I hope that my pride will filter down to you and one day you can be proud of the village that raised you. There are not many families that can say they enjoy being around one another. I am blessed to say that I love spending time with my family, immediate and extended.

I love you everyday.
Mama

Pink Positives

June 9th, 2008 - Wyatt is 4 months old today!! I have officially made it past my breast feeding goal. I wanted to make it to three months, God willing six. Breast feeding has gotten increasingly easy. I love not having to heat bottles in the middle of the night but what I love more is feeling needed, close, and warm to my son. If it wasn't creepy I would feed him until he's three. Instead, I am going to run for the hills once teeth appear. He has already bitten me one too many times to chance it.

June 9th, 2007 - I was in Rebecca's apartment in Astoria getting ready to go out for the night. Tucked in my overnight bag was the third in a series of pregnancy tests I had been taking. I was suppose to get my period at the end of May, inciting panic when I didn't, and full on terror around this time June. I was never late. The previous two pregnancy tests were positive. I had stopped drinking already but refused to acknowledge to myself that I was pregnant. It couldn't possibly be true. Utter disbelief is putting it mildly. Anyway, while getting ready I snuck off in the bathroom to take number three. Third times a charm, right? I wrapped the third pink plus sign in the CVS bag, threw it out in the kitchen, and returned to Rebeccas room to finish straightening my hair. It was like a bowling ball lodged itself in my esophagus. With four glasses of wine down, Rebecca was in rare form, chatting lively, bad mouthing men, and openly discussing her quarter life crisis. I remember staring at myself in the mirror thinking "You have to tell someone to make this a reality." I didn't even turn around mumbling "I kind of have a problem". Rebecca responded with "What? You're pregnant?" My silence told her the answer.

That is what started the long journey that lead us here. Once I digested the information myself, I slowly started telling family then friends. One by one. The process took me months. There was a lot of secret keeping, planning, fantasizing, and therapy. It was a hard time but one that I look back on with a kind of giddiness. In hindsight, I know that all the confusion, torment, and frustration led to something, someone amazing. It was all so very worth it.

My House Runneth Over

Disclaimer: This post is in no way meant to offend, hurt, push buttons, or generally upset anyone. There are no hidden meanings. Y'all give me too much credit. Specifically, lets all remember that Terry and I are not married. He is not my husband and as a partner in parenthood I am sure that if he was in the US he certainly would be carrying my car seat.

One of my co-workers is thinking about "trying" to get pregnant with her husband over the summer. I am secretly very happy that there was no "trying" involved with my pregnancy. I am positive that planning takes all the fun out of having sex. Anyway, she was picking my brain about all the little things that have changed in my life. Things that you would never think of or anticipate. She also confessed on how she was quite nervous about her husbands' involvement or lack of. It got me thinking about the obvious holes in my life where a partner would be helpful. When it comes to raising children, what exactly are husbands good for? (How Sex and the City was that intro...)

Cargo - Babies come with a lot of equipment. A lot of heavy equipment. Mom was my substitute husband for a while retrieving the stroller in and out of the trunk. But recently she put her foot down saying she raised three children without lugging the stroller around and she was not going to start now. So, I am on stroller and baby duty. The result is Wyatt needs to hang in the car for a few more minutes by himself while I get the stroller set up and ready to go. Also, I have one of those baby carrier/car seats. Unfortunately, I had to give it up already for a permanent car seat. The reason being: the seat weighed 10lbs and Wyatt is almost up to 17lbs. Put them together and what I get is a back ache. Lifting the seat alone was a challenge. Forget walking or trying to wiggle myself in the middle back seat carrying 27lbs in front of me.

Four hands are better than two - to cook my dinner, to clean, to diaper in the middle of the night, to feed, to get me the baby so I can feed him, to rotate while I get ready for work, etc, etc, ad nauseam. Thankfully, I live in a household with 4 other adults. The only time I am truly alone is between 9pm-7am. When we have bad nights, I wish that there was someone to help so I could get that extra 10 minutes of sleep before work. But I know that if I am really in crisis mode, Mom is a phone call away. I have used her maybe a dozen or so times usually when Wy is fussing to get fed and peed through his pajamas, and the crib, then puked on my pajamas, and my bed.

Sex and Money - yes, I went there. I am not going to go into much detail but it would be very nice to have two full incomes. And it would be very very nice to have some sex. It is kind of tricky, living with my parents and my son. It would be like "Welcome to my bedroom, don't wake my son, and my mom will make you waffles in the morning." Or "please ignore the crib in the corner." Or I could blame the crying and the walking upstairs on the cats. Talk about elephant in the room. Yikes.

Rainy Days - So, here's the story. I was driving to lunch the other day with Bean and two of Terry's good friends. In the middle of our drive it started pouring, one of those sun shower rains that comes down in buckets. I remained calm but had NO IDEA how to get Bean out of the car. I kid you not people. No Clue. Thankfully, I had a stowaway umbrella that Sean held over our heads as I got him out of the car and into Buckram's. If he wasn't there I probably would have either drove home or sat in the car until it stopped.

I am sure husbands are good for some other things. None of which I can think of but you can't miss what you don't have, right? In reality, I probably have about three husbands in total. My Mom who does most of the cleaning and cooking, Rebecca who does most of the baby watching and everything else I need help with, and my Dad who does all of the yard work and washes my car. So, really the only thing I have to complain about is sex and money and that, my friends, is for another post.

Our Must Haves

I bought Rebecca a first day of work present consisting of two shirts. She reciprocated and bought Wyatt a t-shirt. Great minds really do think alike. The shirt that she got Wy is absolutely adorable and from this great socially responsible company. They are called Tiny Revolutionary. As described on their tag: they are a small kids clothing company on a BIG mission to make the world a kinder, more peaceful place by creating super cool, socially conscious children's clothes with messages of peace, hope, love, and equality. Little Man's new shirt says "Soldier of Love" with a hand giving a peace sign and a gun firing flowers. There are another 10 shirts that I want from this website. What about the "War is Poop" shirt? Love It!!

My Auntie De is a great gift giver. She has an innate knack for finding unique, touching gifts. Wyatt is spoiled rotten by her. One of her more recent gifts knocked my socks off. It is a embroidered blanket from Fill In the Blankie. First off, how clever is that name? I so wish I thought of it. Our blanket says "Once upon a time there was a sweet little bean, Who grew into a beautiful baby boy, He was loved by all far and wide, Wyatt Charles born February 9th 2008 and so his story began... ". It is really very very soft and currently is residing in the little man's crib. It is so beautifully done. Three cheers.

Another great find of Auntie De's was in Bean New York. She got us this organic "Development of a Bean" onesie. It is incredibly soft and incredibly stretchy which is a great thing since my Beanie is a growing boy. I am currently reading a book called Healthy Child Healthy World by Christopher Gavigan. Besides terrifying me about all the harmful things there are in this world, it is perhaps the most informative book for concerned parents. Detailing small steps you can do to protect your child from pollutants, chemicals, and disease to create a greener, healthier living environment. I am going to give this book to every parent-to-be that I know. Such useful information!!