The Wells Family

Harriette Grace Wells

2011-11-06T11:16:00.000-08:00

No, I didn't set a world record as the first woman to go 6 weeks past her due date...I'm just crappy at updating my blog, and having two kids is kicking my butt! However, our beautiful little girl did finally make her appearance on October 4th, 2011, at 4:37am, weighing in at 8lbs, 7 oz, 20.5 inches long. She was a mere 6 days overdue.

The short version of the birth story is that I was induced with Pitocin, had my water broken, experienced my body's own labor when my body took over from the Pitocin, dilated to completion, pushed for an hour, and then had a C-section. The long version of the birth story is a good one, and I wouldn't dream of depriving all those birth junkies of a good birth story (yes, even one that ends in a C-section can be a good one!), so look for that some time in the coming weeks (or maybe months? We'll try for weeks...).

Anyway, here are some more pictures of our cute little girl, who is now a month old!

Meeting Mom for the first time.

With Dad and Big Brother Cyrus (who could not possibly be more in love with his little sister)

With cousin Jackson, who was born almost exactly 4 weeks earlier.

At about two weeks old.

Phoenix and I are having a falling out

2011-07-06T07:35:00.000-07:00

I hadn't gotten around to posting this yet, but I have actually quite enjoyed living here in the Valley of the Sun, far more than I ever thought possible. The weather from December to May was so lovely that we could go outside every single day. And the sunshine! Oh, the sunshine! Growing up in Portland, OR, I never thought that I was impacted by the seasons, but my one winter there as a stay-at-home mom was probably one of the more depressing times in my life. So the contrast of the sun shining every day was very welcome. I was beginning to think that I could live in Phoenix forever.

Now, I'm not so naive that I wasn't expecting the summer to be extremely hot, perhaps even unbearable at times. But I had prepared myself for days exceeding 110 degrees, and I was pretty sure I could handle that for a few months, in exchange, of course, for the other 9 months of the year being lovely. I had been warned of these high temperatures, but everyone always qualified it with "but it's a dry heat, so it's more tolerable". Having experienced some ridiculous levels of humidity in New York, New Jersey and South Africa, I figured I could handle an extra 20-25 degrees of heat if that humidity stayed away.

I was not, then, prepared for high temperatures coupled with humidity levels above 20%! But this past week, we've had temperatures over 100 degrees, and humidity in the 40-50% range. In case you are wondering, that is disgusting. It has been made worse by the fact that my body has adjusted to very low humidity, so really, any level of humidity feels worse than it might somewhere else.

I was still clinging to a love of this place, despite it's flaws, until last night. I came down at about 7:45pm last night after putting Cy down to bed and it was pitch black outside. I thought that was a little early, but I didn't pay much attention until I heard a raucous outside. I thought it was the rain that had been threatening to come (hence the humidity) so I ran outside to cover the barbecue and put the jogging stroller under cover. Rain would have been celebrated compared to what greeted me when I opened the door. The wind was intense, and I immediately had dust in my hair, clothes and teeth. I tried to wrestle with the barbecue cover, and gave up after I was attacked by a particularly nasty gust of wind-dust. I was trying to gather our swim stuff from the patio when another gust of wind threw things in my eyes and at my face. I abandoned my efforts and ran inside for cover.

It turns out we had a little something called a dust storm. Dust storm! These were not part of the deal when I agreed to come to this desert land. I was unprepared for the 60 mph winds, and, oh yeah, the dust!

This is what it looked like as it descended on the city. Jason was driving home from work last night and briefly thought the world might be ending.

This morning, we woke up to this:

A section of fence blown over by the 60mph winds. I think that tree may have reached it's end.

Dust accumulation on our patio table.

My abandoned barbecue cover. No, it hasn't been sitting, crumpled up like this for days. This is the result of just 45 minutes.

Too bad that cover didn't make it on...

Our cat's water bowl, freshened just an hour before the storm hit.

In case you were wondering, the honeymoon is officially over. Phoenix has some serious sucking up to do to make up for this one!

Why do I Ever Make Plans?

2011-04-17T19:11:00.000-07:00

Cyrus and I arrived in Denver yesterday for another month so that I can work 30 hours a week for my uncle. Jason took Friday off to facilitate the laundry/packing process. As I often do when I have a lot to accomplish, I had a basic schedule laid out in my head of how Friday should go:

6:00am Wake up, play downstairs, eat breakfast
8:00am Go for a walk with Cyrus and Jager
9:00am Get home, start laundry
11:30am In and Out for Lunch (what, I've been having a craving!)
12:00pm Home, Cyrus down for a nap, pack while he sleeps
2:30pm Cyrus wakes up, we go do something fun, like go swimming or go to the park
5:00pm Get home and make dinner, which we then eat together as a family
7:00pm Cyrus to bed, Jason and I spend the rest of the evening relaxing
10:00pm Go to bed

I should know by now that when I make plans, God laughs. Here's how my day actually went:

7:00am Wake up (Cy slept in, can't complain about that!)

7:30am Change Cy's diaper, and notice that the incisions from the surgery he had a few weeks ago are looking really red and swollen and are emitting...stuff. Make mental note to call the urologist who did the surgery.

9:00am Finally leave for my walk. While on my walk, have a random thought that we haven't had to call our landlord in four months.

10:00am Get home. Notice Cyrus is falling more than usual. Conduct several "tests" where we try to get him to run and walk between us. He refuses to run, will only take a few steps before he starts whimpering, and his legs keep buckling. He starts refusing to walk, or will only take really small steps.

10:30am Jason Googles toddler leg pain while I call the pediatrician. Panic slightly (or more than slightly) when Jason says that Google turned up Leukemia. Also, scold Jason for Googling! Start a load of laundry.

11:30 Get to the pediatrician's office, and decide to have her look at the incisions as well as at Cy's legs

12:00pm Doctor determines that he probably has an infection and that the infection is probably causing the leg pain (no Leukemia - yay!). Advises us to call the urologist. Explains that we might have to go to the emergency room for tests and whatnot.

12:30pm In and Out for Lunch (one thing went right so far). On the way, try to reach the urologist's office, but they are at lunch. Leave a message for the on-call doctor

1:10pm Head home. Leave another message for the on-call doctor. Feel annoyed that they are supposed to be back from lunch but still have their "away at lunch" message on. Cy falls asleep in the car.

1:30pm Finally reach urologist office. They are concerned and want us to come in right away. Unfortunately, the only office they have open is 30 minutes away.

1:32pm Walk by the laundry closet and notice an obscene amount of water spilling out of the closet. Step on the laminate outside the closet and hear it squish. Think it is the washing machine, so cease laundry process. Call the landlord.

2:00pm Landlord arrives, determines that it is our hot water heater is leaking. Get Cy up from his nap (he stays asleep) and load him in the car. Drive to the doctor's, freaking out the whole time that Cy has some awful infection that will get him hospitalized. Figure this is what I get for having a practically always health baby.

3:00pm Finally get in to see the doctor. Find out that he has an infection, but not a major one. Get a prescription for anti-biotics and are told to have fun on our trip. Finally, things are starting to go our way!

5:00pm After stopping for prescriptions and a few other things at Costco, we arrive home, and make Cyrus dinner.

6:00pm Get ready to go visit someone from church, when the hot water heater tech shows up. This is where it gets awesome, by the way!

6:40pm Technician is still here. Says he has to replace the water heater. And, oh yeah, so much water leaked that we will need to get a crew in to rip up the floor and dry it out.

6:45pm Feel extremely grateful that we are renting, and do not have to pay for this.

7:30pm Tech finally leaves, instructing us that someone from a Remediation company is coming over shortly to deal with the water issue. Says he'll be back in the morning to install new hot water heater. Also says that we should still have hot water and can go head and shower (which, by the way, I haven't done yet)

7:40pm Jason goes to give Cy a bath and discovers no hot water

7:42pm I have a breakdown, and turn into a sobbing puddle on the couch because I can't take a hot shower or do laundry

7:45pm Get over myself. Catch up on some emails while I listen to my poor child get an ice cold sponge bath.

8:00pm Put Cy to bed. Eat dinner with Jason

9:00pm Sort through my dirty laundry so that I can pack it to go to Denver

9:15pm Guy from Remediation company shows up. Call landlord to come over and meet with him. Find out that our entire living room floor will have to ripped up, and possible our kitchen floor and cabinets as well. Feel thankful that I won't be here, but feel bad that Jason will be.

10:30pm Still not done packing. Demolition guy shows up to tear up the floor in the hallway outside of the laundry closet, set up huge blowers and seal off the hallway.

11:15pm Finally work up the courage to take an icy cold shower, because a cold shower is better than no shower

11:40pm Crawl into bed, exhausted, not relaxed but packed

Lessons Learned on Friday:

Don't make plans
Don't even think things like "I haven't had to call the landlord in 4 months"
Don't procrastinate laundry
Show first thing in the morning!
Even when things go all to crap, there can still be some shining morsels of positivity: ie, my child doesn't have Leukemia, and I don't have to pay thousands of dollars for a busted hot water heater

The hallway leading to our downstairs bathroom and laundry closet. The result of an awesome day!

Hopefully, this has been our run of bad luck, and we are good now...although, maybe I should be careful thinking things like that!

It's A...

2011-04-14T14:32:00.000-07:00

Oh. Wait, did I forget to mention that I'm pregnant? Perhaps that's because I've forgotten to blog for the past 3 months or so....

Well, I am pregnant. Somewhere around 16 weeks or so, due date around the end of September. I've decided not to put a lot of stock in my due date, considering that babies just don't care about them. Cyrus thought that 16 days past my due date was the appropriate time to make an appearance.

Anyway, back to being pregnant. Now, normally, you don't get to find out your baby's gender until somewhere between 18 and 22 weeks when they do the full anatomy ultrasound. However, there was some concern from my midwives that perhaps I was further along than we all thought. I can tell you this - I started fighting my non-pregnancy clothes at about 8 weeks. Yikes! I was hoping I was further along just for some validation on the oversized belly. So we had an ultrasound last Thursday.

Alas, no. I am in fact right about where we all originally thought that I was. However, on the plus side, I am far enough along that they could tell the baby's sex! Woohoo!

Before I share the results, I'd like to give a little background. With Cyrus, both Jason and I suspected we were having a girl, though neither of us felt particularly strongly about it. Obviously we were wrong. With this baby, I almost didn't feel the need to find out the sex because I was absolutely, dead certain that it was boy. Convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt. Plus, there were several reasons why having a boy the second time around would be absolutely PERFECT!

1. Every storage space in my house is packed to overflowing with baby boy stuff. Not one to waste, I saved everything of Cy's, knowing we planned to have a few more kids. I also hate spending money, and the thought of being able to reuse 99% of what would be needed made me positively giddy. If this baby was a boy, I would need exactly two items: a crib, and a double stroller. Perfect!

2. We have a boy name all picked out. Easy peasy. If this baby was a girl, it was going to be all out war. We had hypothetically talked about girl names, you know, just to be fair, not because we thought we were having one, and we flat out could not agree on a single name. Not a one! It had to be boy, just so that the poor thing could have a name!

3. Cyrus is a boy. The kiddos will be just over 2 years apart, and having another boy means a best friend and playmate for life.

4. Most importantly, I feel like I know what I'm doing with boys. Girls are kind of beyond me. They confound me to a degree. To this end, I think I had convinced myself that we would only have boys. Oh sure, the thought of one girl, maybe the last baby, was kind of nice, but really not necessary. Nope, this one needed to be a boy so that he could have a chance of being somewhat normal.

Are you laughing yet? Because God was. Are you seeing where this is going? Because I did not.

Since Jason couldn't make it to the ultrasound, I asked the ultrasound tech to write the sex of the baby on a piece of paper and fold it up so that we could see it together. When we opened the envelope, we saw a cute little drawing and the words:

It's a GIRL!

Bring on the naming war and pink frilly dresses!

* As a side note, my brother-in-law and his wife are also having a baby in September, toward the beginning of the month. They found on the same day as us what they were having. They were as convinced that their baby was a girl as we were that ours was a boy. They were wrong too! It would appear that Wells parents are just terrible at parental instinct when it comes to the gender of our babies!

The Tenacity of Toddlers

2011-01-23T19:35:00.000-08:00

First of all, for those who follow (and I mean that in the loosest sense of the word, since it has been almost a year from the last post) Cy's blog, I've decided to go ahead and start posting over there again. We'll see how long it lasts. It is private, so if you want an invite, or need a new invite, just send me an email or reply to this post, and I'll hook you up.

Now, on to my post. This evening before dinner, Cyrus and I were building towers with his Mega Blocks. He's just started to figure out how they work, but likes to stick to stacking those blocks that are similar: for example, only blocks with four pegs, or only blocks with one peg. The one peg blocks seem to be his favorite, as there are many, many of them, and he can make a really tall tower. Here is how the tower building went tonight:

Tower #1. I had to balance it very carefully to get this picture.

Oh! And it's down! Cy was just getting ready to place this stack of blocks on top of the tower when it collapsed.

No matter. We'll just start over again.

Cy's particular tower-building strategy includes placing several blocks together and then placing that section onto the tower.

Just. A few. More. Blocks! Seconds later, the tower came tumbling to the ground, much to the glee of one little boy.

This process was repeated several times over, until it was time for dinner. I love it!

I've been waiting months for this...

2010-12-09T21:14:00.000-08:00

Tortilla Soup!

(Picture courtesy of Food network, though mine looks pretty similar)

Yeah, that's what I've been waiting for. It is one of my favorite fall meals, but since I'd been living with my parents for the past several months, I hadn't been able to make it. My mom has a major aversion to spice, and this soup is only good when chipotle peppers are used liberally! So, tonight, I got to make it for the first time this fall/winter.

I used to strongly dislike soups, but I've developed a recent affinity for them, especially the hearty ones. One of my favorite things about them is how very flexible they are. Start with a base, and then adjust it however you want. It is the perfect opportunity to get creative for someone like me, who is kind of a die-hard recipe follower most of the time. This particular recipe is adapted from Rachel Ray's Why-the-Chicken-Crossed-the-Road Santa Fe-Tastic Tortilla Soup.

In addition to have an absurdly long name, it also has some extra steps that I don't think are necessary. I've found a few shortcuts that I think get the same flavor but with way less work. I also add beans, which I think bulks out the soup, or allows me to use less chicken if I'm feeling a bit cheap. Plus, I make mine in the crock pot. I initially did so out of necessity, but I've found that it is a very satisfying feeling to have dinner preparation completely finished by 1pm, or 2pm, or whenever I get around to it! So here is my adaptation of her recipe:

Olive oil for sauteing
1/2 to 1 pound Chicken breast or tenders, cubed
1 medium onion
1-2 zucchini, chopped
1 bell pepper, or some frozen chopped bell peppers (red peppers were a $1.79 a piece today! I used frozen from Trader Joe's - worked great!)
1/2 a bag of frozen corn, or 1 can of corn, or however much you like - we like corn in our house!
3 cloves garlic
1-4 Chipotle peppers in Adobo, plus some of the Adobo sauce
2-3 14 ounce cans of fire-roasted tomatoes (or some combination of fire-roasted, diced and stewed. I highly recommend the fire-roasted in some quantity - it adds a little extra smoke without the work of charring the corn and peppers)
1-2 cans of beans (I use one black and one kidney)
3-4 cups of Chicken Stock
1 tsp cumin
2 tsp chili powder

Garnishes:
Avocado
Yogurt or sour cream
Blue corn tortilla chips
Cilantro
Shredded Cheese
Hot sauce

Saute chicken pieces in olive oil until browned. Remove, add a little more oil if needed, and then add the onion, zucchini and garlic, and bell pepper if using fresh. Once veggies are slightly browned, but not too soft, add the chipotle peppers. I like to chop mine a little first. Put the veggies and chicken into a 6 quart or larger crock-pot. Add the tomatoes, chicken stock, beans, cumin, and chili powder. Cook on low for 6-8 hours or high for 3-4 hours. Add the corn and frozen peppers (if using) during the last 1-2 hours of cooking.

Serve with some or all of the above garnishes, or none, if you want to be all purist. But I highly recommend the tortilla chips - is it called tortilla soup, after all. I serve it with a salad and homemade cornbread - very few things can top that!

We need some Christmas decorations around here, STAT

2010-12-07T20:32:00.000-08:00

These are the highs this week here in Phoenix, AZ:

Wednesday: 77
Thursday: 75
Friday: 78
Saturday: 77
Sunday: 77
Monday: 80

Eighty! In December! I wore a t-shirt and capris today, all day, and was totally comfortable - even a little warm! OK, I realize that I probably have nothing on Bridget in the UAE...but still, these temperatures take a little getting used to. I have to remind myself several times a day that we are well into the month of December and that, oh yeah, Christmas is right around the corner.

Due to moving/unpacking etc, we have yet to procure a Christmas tree or dig out any of Christmas decorations. However, this is top on my list of to-dos for tomorrow. I'm afraid that if I don't make this a priority, it will suddenly be December 26th and I will have missed Christmas all together!

Speaking of Christmas trees, how does everyone feel about fake trees? I used to be vehemently opposed, but then after my first Christmas tree in NY cost $65, I decided that a reusable $30 fake tree was better on my wallet. In Portland, Jason insisted that we go to a cut-your-own tree farm, since we were in the land of Christmas trees. I'm definitely leaning toward a fake tree this year, since it will save in the long run. However, the actual price of a real tree is pretty the same as that of an equivalent fake tree. And, as Jason has pointed out, all the trees they sell here are from Oregon...we could own our own little piece of live Oregon for a mere $45...tempting. But I think the ease of the fake tree may win out. What do you all do? Real or fake?

Finally, a Reality Competition Show Tailor-Made for ME!

2010-12-06T21:48:00.000-08:00

That's right, folks, I'm talking about the Sing-Off! All my musical nerdiness came to the fore this evening as I watched a capella group after a capella group perform. The harmonies, the cheesy dance moves, the backup singing and the extreme use of dynamics - it brought back memories of my choral and a capella days back in college.

And, for once, I actually enjoyed the judges comments more often than not. Ben Folds might be my new hero. I saw him in concert once, but had no idea he was such a major musical nerd. His feedback was specific and useful, which I appreciated. Nicole whatever her name was a little reminiscent of Paul Abdul, and definitely grated at times, but she actually provided real feedback on occasion, which was refreshing. Although, she did use the phrase "musical orgasm" to describe the reaction of the third judge, Shawn Stockman (from Boyz II Men - my favorite group in 7th grade). I'm just not sure how I feel about that phrase...

A few highlights:
A group from Berkley School of Music in Boston who made it pretty clear that they thought they were hot stuff, and then they performed and really weren't. And then, they were the first to get booted. The one group from a music school? That is just awesome!

Jerry Lawson and Talk of the Town - Jerry Lawson was a member of the Persuasions for 40 years. I mean really, this group is kind of the original. It was nice to see the purity of pop a capella.

Then was the Gospel group that performed at the end, Committed. They had never really performed pop music, but they pretty much blew everyone else out of the water. They performed a Maroon 5 song in a way that may have made it better than the original. They were the group that led to the supposed musical orgasm.

My one complaint about the show was the lack of all female groups. There were several all male groups - in fact, I would say the majority of the groups were all men. But women were sorely under-represented. But I think I'll get over it.

So, with my newly acquired DVR, I will be recording and watching all five episodes of this show and reveling in my musical nerdiness. Is anyone else joining me on this one?

Flashback Friday: Thanksgivings of the Past

2010-11-26T18:52:00.000-08:00

Since I did not do the obligatory Thanksgiving Post yesterday, and it is Flashback Friday, I thought I would take you a on a little journey through my Thanksgivings.

From about age 8 through my junior year in college, Thanksgiving consisted of piling into my dad's Honda Accord at 5am on Wednesday morning and driving 8.5 straight hours from Portland, OR to my grandparents' home in Vacaville, CA. Until I turned 10, it was just my dad and my brother and me. We fit quite nicely in the car. When I turned 10, however, my dad married my step-mom who also had a daughter, and from then on it was all five of us crammed in the car, with feet on coolers (so that we wouldn't have to stop) and all of us kids with our backpacks full of car entertainment, all trying not to talk to each other. Good times.

Once we arrived, we were met by my dad's two sisters and their children (my cousins). Our Thanksgivings were fairly formal - we all got dressed up, the table was set with my grandmother's finest china a silver, there were place-cards with our names (designed by my cousins and me, of course) and we all waited until all 20 of us were served before we began eating. Afterward, we changed into PJ's and lounged around the house, finally crashing on the floor on piles of old couch cushions and even older air mattresses that held air for approximately 30 minutes before beginning the slow deflating process that lasted until morning. After enjoying family togetherness for the following two days, we piled back into the Honda for the 8.5 hour turned 11 hour car ride back to Portland. Thanksgiving was pretty much the only time that I saw my cousins each year, and was one of the two times I saw my grandparents. That is probably one of the reasons why I love the holiday so much.

Since college, I've had a series of very interesting Thanksgivings. Here are a few of note:

The Thanksgiving with the most modes of transportation: The first Thanksgiving after Jason and I got married, in 2006, stands out as probably the craziest I've ever had. My mom's whole family (including 6 brothers and all of their family) decided to rent a house on Orca's Island - a small island off of the coast of Washington state. Jason and I were living in New York at the time. I had some extra time off of work, so I decided to fly to Portland for a few days to see my dad and step-mom before catching a plane to Seattle on Wednesday evening. Jason flew in from New York and met me at the airport, where we rented a car and drove about an hour to the ferry. We missed the first (and faster) ferry so we had to wait about 2 hours for the next one. That ferry took about three hours to get to the island. Once there, we had to drive an additional 30 minutes to the house, on dark winding roads. Two days later, we turned around and did the whole thing in reverse, complete with a red-eye flight back to New York. While on the flight, I contracted the stomach flu, and spent the whole flight trying to not to throw up. I spent the next week off of work, lying in bed. We decided that we would never, ever, travel for Thanksgiving again.

The Thanksgiving with the longest car ride: Despite our vow to remain at home for this great holiday, Jason got really depressed about not being able to be with family for Thanksgiving in 2008. We were still in New York, so the closest family we had were Jason's mom and step-dad in Kansas City, Kansas. On a whim, we decided to drive there for the week. It's a 20 hour drive. We left after work on Friday night and drove through a snow storm to some small town in Ohio. The next day we drove the remaining 12 hours to Jason's mom's. And we brought our dog. Oh yeah, and I was 9 weeks pregnant. In fact, while we were there, Jason and I had a scare with the pregnancy and feared that I was miscarrying. So we actually ended up going to the emergency room on Thanksgiving day to make sure everything was all right. It was. At the end of the week, we turned around and did the whole drive in reverse. Everything went fine until we hit Pennsylvania and realized that our car was shaking violently every time we went over 55 mph. We stopped at a Walmart tire center and discovered that our tires were completely bald and not safe to drive on. As luck would have it, Walmart did not have the correct tire size. Our only option was to sign a waver and put the wrong sized tires on our car so that we could complete our journey home. Quite an adventure.

The Thanksgiving where we should have just gotten takeout: Jason and I decided to host Thanksgiving at our house last year for 12 people. My dad and step-mom offered to get one of those prepared Thanksgiving dinners from Safeway, but Jason and I just couldn't bear the thought. Instead, we decided that we would cook the whole meal ourselves - turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, peas, apple pie, pumpkin pie, and cheesecake, plus appetizers. If you will remember, we were not in the ideal kitchen situation

Jason and I have yet to create our own traditions around this, my favorite holiday. Hopefully, we can have some stability long enough to do so...or get creative enough that stability doesn't matter!

Moving Makes my Head Hurt

2010-11-23T13:15:00.000-08:00

Ok, NaBloPoMo is kicking my butt. Or maybe its moving or this cold. Who knows. But, I will not back down! I will finish this thing!

So, at the moment, we are staying with my brother-in-law and his wife while we slowly move stuff from our storage unit and my brother-in-law's garage into our new place. The goal is to have our beds over there by Wednesday night, and everything else by Saturday. Jason's crazy work schedule, the limited hours at the storage unit, and that sweet little holiday called Thanksgiving are turning this move into a week-long adventure.

Moving, in general, makes my head hurt. I hate it. I hate packing, I hate unpacking. I actually quite like going to a new place, but I hate leaving the old place. I hate the mess and finding new places for things that used to have places. There are some things about this move in particular that are doing my head in.

Utilities. Specifically, phone, internet and cable. I've spent probably 4 hours pouring over information on line and talking to various representatives on the phone, trying to sort out the best options for us. There are almost too many options, because I can't just look at monthly bill - I have to consider how that monthly bill will change in 3 months, 6 months or a year, depending on the specials. I have to weigh different channel options and DVR capabilities, plus start up costs. Ack!

Our storage unit. Yuck. First of all, I haven't seen any of this stuff for almost 5 months. Some of it is stuff that we used for the previous year and a bit, and then some of it has been in storage since we left New York because it didn't fit into our weird kitchen/living setup. We have a bizarre accumulation of furniture from various well-meaning family members, much of which is very useful. But we seem to have three tables and no chairs, four tvs, several nightstands and end tables, but no desk, and none of living room furniture matches (the wall couch found a new home with my brother when we left Portland). There is unmistakably too much crap! And yet, we still don't quite have we need. Which means that we will probably have to (get to) make a trip to Ikea, to purchase yet more stuff, and then find a place for or get rid of the stuff we already have. My head hurts thinking about it.

Moving/unpacking with a 16 month old. Seriously, how do you parents of more than one small child do it? Working around meals and nap times is one thing, but then there's the in-the-way factor when moving heavy boxes and furniture, and the fact that Cy suddenly requires that he be held indefinitely at the most inopportune times.

OK, back to the madness. Here's hoping I can muster the motivation for another post tomorrow!

How to Heal What Ails You

2010-11-21T21:18:00.000-08:00

So. Day 20 of NaBloPoMo was a fail. But I'm back again. Cyrus and I have arrived in Phoenix, and I have contracted a nasty chest cold. Our impending flight and this cold are my reasons (excuses) for not blogging yesterday. I almost didn't make it today either, but then I thought I would share with all (2) of you our family's secret for curing, or at least speeding up the course of, all colds/flu:

Ginger Tea

How to make:

Chop up a bunch of ginger, probably at least an inch to an inch and a half chunk, depending on how much tea you want, and how strong you want it.

Add desired amount of water.

Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 20-30 minutes, or until the tea burns just a little going down. (This is not a joke. If it doesn't burn, it's not strong enough).

Strain the ginger and serve with honey and/or lemon to make it palatable. (Again, not a joke. This stuff is kind of disgusting).

Reserve ginger to use again. We reuse the ginger for at least three or four pots of tea, and sometimes stretch it a bit further by adding a small amount of new ginger to the pot.

My mom first discovered this when I was in high school, and it took me about five years before I could drink more than a few sips. However, three or four large mugs of this stuff a day will speed up the course of your illness, and if started soon enough, can even decrease the severity. I have no scientific evidence for this (although I'm sure there is some), but at the very least, it makes us all feel a little better.

I Didn't Know It Started So Early...

2010-11-19T21:04:00.000-08:00

This is Cyrus, reading the paper with his Papa. I'm not sure if you can tell, but he is "reading" the sports page. It's the only section of the paper in which he shows any interest. Not only that, but he actually requests it! If he sees the paper on the table, he approaches the nearest adult, asks "up", and then insists "ball, ball, ball" until that adult finds the sports page and flips through it.

He seems to have a major obsession with all things sports. He sits and watches football or basketball for 15-20 minutes at a time, and gets cranky when the commercials interrupt the game. Sometimes, he actually grabs the remote, points it at the TV, and then says "ball, ball, ball".

Is this normal? How does he already have such a strong, and specific, love for sports? Is this some weird innate boy thing? My streak of feminism has a hard time believing this, so perhaps it's just specific to Cyrus? Have any of your kids shown an early affinity for a particular subject or activity? Did it last as they got older? I have a feeling that I'm in for weekends filled with sports, either on the field or on TV for the next two decades or so.

Flashback Friday disclaimer: All of my flashback worthy photos are in Phoenix. I had a great idea for a flashback, but didn't want to post it without pictures, and Jason was too tired to send them to me. Admittedly, I am also too tired to write a lengthy, well thought out post, so maybe tomorrow will be Flashback Saturday...or something.

Things I'd Like To Do

2010-11-18T19:18:00.000-08:00

So tonight, I'm going to the midnight showing of the new Harry Potter movie. This might not be the brightest choice, considering that Cy tends to wake up sometime between the hours of 4:30am and 6:30am, and considering that I have gotten only 4-5 hours of the sleep the past few nights; however, this is actually something that I've always wanted to do, but just haven't had the opportunity. Plus, I found out that my 78 year old grandmother is going to a midnight showing, so really, I had no excuse!

Anyway, this got me thinking about other things that I've always wanted to do, but for whatever reason, just haven't had the chance. Some of these things seem rather mundane, but they still fit the bill:

Go camping in the backwoods. Now, I've been camping, and I've even been backpacking, but always in either official campgrounds, or on the Appalachian Trail. Neither really give you the feelings of survival and isolation that are so intriguing about the backwoods. My dad and I keep talking about this, and in fact, we have tentative plans to take on the backwoods of the Sierras next summer, provided I'm not pregnant!

Go to a tailgating party and then a college football game. This one really is just a matter of not having had the opportunity. Sure, a football game alone would be fun, but I love the atmosphere of camaraderie and school spirit that accompanies the whole pre-game part.

Ski. Ok, so technically, I've been skiing, but I was 7 years old, and it was about an hour at a ski school, and it was awful. I'd like to try it for real some time. Snowboarding would suffice too.

Grow a garden and keep chickens. This one seems a little silly, but the older I get, the more I have a desire to be more in control of the food my family and I eat. I'm never going to be the flower garden type, but a vegetable garden and a few chickens would make me happy.

Go Rock Climbing. I'm a little surprised at my desire for this activity, considering that I hate heights and/or the possibility of falling. But it seems strangely exhilarating, and very gratifying.

Ride a train with both a sleeping car and a dining car. This is something that actually really, really want to do. Trains are my favorite way to travel, and I would love to take one either all or part of the way across the country, seeing historic sites, eating in a fancy dining car with table cloths and silver, and sleeping in a sleeping car. Do they even have these any more? Perhaps I should look that up before I get too excited about the prospect...Anyway, I've always thought this would make a great family vacation, although probably one of those where I'm super excited about it and my kids roll their eyes and complain the whole time!

So, what are some things you've never done but would like to, no matter how simple or silly?

Bowled Over

2010-11-17T22:04:00.000-08:00

I had another Mom's Night Out with my Strollerstrides group tonight. We went bowling at one of those new-fangled bowling-alley-turned-hip-lounge places. The brick and wood decor, leather couches, and upscale bar food sure beat the smoke infused plastic chairs and hot dogs! Anyway, bowling is one of the few activities that I enjoy immensely despite the fact that I am absolutely terrible at it. I have been beat by children under the age of ten on more than one occasion. I think my all-time lowest score is something like 47. My rather ambitious goal tonight was to break 100. I managed to get 85 on the first game, but check out my score on the second game (my score is the one circled in red):

Two strikes and a spare, plus a score of over 100? I'll take it!

Ode to the Mini Van

2010-11-16T21:42:00.000-08:00

Our mini van is packed and ready to go, and Jason will head out at the ugly hour of 5:00am tomorrow morning. Say what you will about mini vans and soccer moms, but this baby is a beast when it comes to moves. This is now the third cross-state move for this van, and it has proved invaluable in each. When we moved from New York to Portland, Jason drove the first half of the trip with the mini van packed to the gills, and towing a trailer with all of our stuff. We then picked up more stuff from his mom in Kansas, thus ditching the trailer for a large moving truck. The mini van continued on to Portland, still chalk full. And, oh yeah, transporting a dog and a cat...

From Portland to Denver, we packed the van full of everything Cy and would need for three (or so we thought) months in Denver, plus the dog, plus whatever wouldn't fit in the moving truck. Plus Cy and me.

And now, it is performing that duty once again as we complete our move to Phoenix...or begin it, however you look at it.

Let me run down just what exactly has been fit into this Mary Poppins Bag of a van: Large dog kennel (with dog), full size electric piano and base, large plastic toy car, small plastic toy car, fold up bookcase, baby gate, and 16 boxes of clothes, toys, books, diapers, and various sundry items, including two boxes of various dry goods items my thought were necessary for our survival.

To get the maximum use out of the vehicle, we have to get a little creative. Our rear seats stow-and-go (perhaps the greatest feature possible in any car!), but the middle bench seat does not. Jason figured out how to increase floor space while not having to leave that seat behind during our move from New York. It looks a little like this:

That seat has been folded up, placed on one end and then secured to the driver's seat via the headrest. Rather ingenious, if you ask me.

Here is how the van looked after 16 boxes, Jager's food, the bookcase, baby gate, and the piano had been loaded. I meant to take a picture of where the piano was before all the boxes went in but I forgot. It looks pretty full, but there is definitely still room for more!

And here it is: All the random miscellaneous crap (notice the boat sitting on the box? It's full of bathtoys), included both toy cars have finally been loaded, and Jason is now ready to roll.

Goodbye, dear mini van. We will be reunited again very soon!

Here it comes!

2010-11-15T21:15:00.000-08:00

The moving craziness has begun! By some miracle, we found a house to rent (pictures to come). And by me, I really mean Jason. And actually, I don't even mean Jason. His brother Brian found the house, and then, because Jason had to work, Brian met my Aunt Melissa (a real estate agent) at the house and took copious pictures. Based on the pictures, we decided to rent it. Jason decided at the last minute that perhaps at least one of us should actually see the place before we sign a lease, so he swung by today on his way to the leasing office. It took a series of scans and faxes for both of us to sign all the paperwork, and we still technically have to be approved by the landlord. But, for all intents and purposes, we have a place to live!

So, here's the plan, as far as we've developed it. I pick Jason up from the airport in about an hour. Tomorrow we will pack up our minivan and Jason will drive it and the dog down to Phoenix on Wednesday. I have a surprising amount of crap here in Denver that has to be transported - I'm pretty sure it will more than fill the van! Cyrus and I will finish out the week here in Denver and fly down on Sunday. (Yes, I got the relatively cushy end of the deal. It is already a 14 hour drive, and we figured that with Cy, it would probably turn into two days, and Jason didn't want me driving alone, blah blah blah.)

We can start moving into our new place on Monday. Most of our stuff is in a storage unit in the Phoenix area, and some items are in my brother-in-law's garage. The problem is that Jason doesn't have a day off until Thanksgiving, so we are trying to figure out just how much we can move using our minivan in the evenings...we shall see.

NaBloPoMo caught me off guard today, hence the lame post. I will try to be slightly more prepared in the future, although, I've just realized that from now until the end of November, my life is going to be in chaos! But I refuse to give in! I will conquer NaBloPoMo! Wish us luck!

Baby Free

2010-11-14T20:10:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, my mom, my grandmother and I spent Saturday night at a fancy resort about an hour from Denver. I've left Cyrus for large chunks of a day several times, and have even left before bedtime on a few occasions, but this was the first night that I have spent away from him...ever. Now, I don't know if this later than usual, or earlier than usual, or right about the time that most moms leave their children overnight for the first time, but for me, it felt like just about the right time.

Here are the things I enjoyed while being baby-free:

Shopping for as long as I wanted without having to worry about a fussy baby who wants to be held right when I'm half naked and trying on clothes.

Enjoying my meals at my own pace, with no real distractions. I didn't have to cut anyone's food, or make sure there were no items chucked at servers' heads. I didn't have to get up halfway through my meal to take a fussy toddler outside, or try to eat while hold said toddler on my lap and trying to keep him from grabbing my fork, water glass, plate, knife, or any other object within reach.

Adult conversation. Of course, I get this when Cy is napping or after he goes to bed, but it was nice to enjoy it during the above activities, since that is almost impossible when he is around.

And, finally, the best part about being Baby Free for a night? Sleeping in! I realized that this was going to be possible on Friday afternoon, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that tears came to my eyes. I love my sleep, and probably the hardest part about being a mom is the total and complete lack of control I have over when and how I wake up. Since I continue to breastfeed, this was the very first night that I did not have to get up with Cyrus whenever he deemed it necessary. Sure, there were times when Jason got up with him, but I usually had to nurse him first, or, at the very least, heard him cry and was awoken by the process. And, in the past four months, I've pretty much gotten up with Cyrus every single morning, and every time that he woke up in the middle of the night, with only a handful of exceptions.

Of course, as luck would have it, I actually slept quite terribly. And I woke up at 7:30. However, I got to lounge in bed for a while, sipping a cup of mint tea, and not wrestling with a toddler. It was bliss.

All of that being said, I was extremely anxious to see my baby this afternoon. He was napping when we got home, and I had to momentarily resist the urge to go wake him up. I say momentarily because I very quickly came to my senses and remembered that you NEVER wake a sleeping baby! Once he woke up, however, I rushed to his room and cuddled him for as long as he would let me. One night was definitely long enough for this first trip, but I don't think a few nights is out of the question in the future. Plus, the allure of sleeping in may just be too good to pass up!

This is what it looks like to not be violently ripped from sleep some time between the hours of 4:30am and 6:00am. Relaxing in bed with some tea. Lovely!

Three Generations!

2010-11-13T20:19:00.000-08:00

In honor of my last full weekend in Denver, my mom decided to treat me to a night at the Broadmoor, a 5 star resort in Colorado Springs. My grandmother flew out from California for a few days, so we decided to make it a girls night - no baby, no grandpa, just three generations of great women! We've already had a lovely day of shopping and dining, and I am looking forward a long night of (hopefully) uninterrupted sleep! I'm lucky to have a grandma and a mom who are so much fun to be with!

My mom, my grandmother, and me, all dressed up, and enjoying a lovely dinner out!

Flashback Friday: The Journeys of Bear

2010-11-12T21:12:00.000-08:00

This is Bear. He looks a little worn and ragged, but that is for good reason. He has provided countless hours of comfort and companionship to not one small child but two, and he may well be on his way to accompanying a third. My mom got Bear when she was 11 years on a trip to Disneyland and he was her companion for the next five or so years. When I was born, she had him re-stuffed, and he quickly became my most treasured object.

I think that I was the one who so aptly named him. I was never into fru-fru names for my stuffed animals. I took the more practical route. As an example of my naming practices, consider my second most treasured object - a cloth doll named "Good Girl". And why was she named as such? Because my mom brought her home for me one Friday evening after a rough week during which I had been, in her words, a very good girl. So, it was logical in my three year old brain that she should be named Good Girl.

Anyway, back to Bear. I slept with him every night. In fact, his presence was absolutely essential to me being able to fall asleep. And in the interest of full disclosure, let me just say that this continued to be the case well into my teenage years. Due to Bear's presence being required at night time, he was taken with me any time I spent the night somewhere. Since my parents divorced when I was just 18 months old, Bear made the journey with me to my dad's house every other weekend for several years. On at least one occasion, I forgot to bring him home. Come bedtime, I was beside myself - I needed that bear before I could go to sleep. My saintly step-dad made the drive all the way across town to pick my bear up from my dad's house just so that I could go to sleep that night.

This wasn't the only time that my forgetfulness led to extra driving by a parent. I went through a phase where I not only wanted my bear with me at night, but I pretty much wanted him with me all the time. I think I may have been around 6 or 7 at the time. I carried that bear with me into restaurants, over to friends' houses, probably just about everywhere but to school. During one roadtrip with my dad and brother, we stopped to visit some family for a few hours before continuing on our journey. I brought Bear in, played with him a bit, then got distracted and left him on the kitchen counter. We were about 30 minutes away when I realized where he was - still on that kitchen counter! My dad dutifully turned around and returned to the family member's house to retrieve my bear.

I had a rather adventurous childhood, and therefore, so did Bear. We spent two summers in Alaska and about 6 months in Taiwan. Bear was right there with me the whole time. In fact, I give a great deal of credit to Bear for me being mostly well-adjusted, considering how very tumultuous my childhood was. My mom and step-dad and I moved every six months or so for about three years, and then there was the divorce of my parents, and to and froing between my dad's and my mom's, not to mention the previously noted trips. That's a lot for a small child, and I think that Bear helped me feel grounded and comforted.

As I mentioned earlier, my dependence on bear continued through my teenage years, and even on to college. It didn't even occur to me to leave him behind when I packed up and head to Los Angeles. During the first month of freshman year, my roommate thought it would be funny to throw Bear out of the second story window. Although I laughed along with her, I didn't find it all that funny. When I came home from college at the end of the semester, I lovingly retired Bear - I just wasn't sure he would survive the college years. That being said, I also knew that I was fairly dependent on him to fall asleep. So, my mom and I went shopping for a replacement bear. We finally found one that was an acceptable stand-in. Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, I, a 19 year old college freshman, bought myself a teddy bear so that I could fall asleep at night.

At then end of my freshman year, I got a job working at a summer camp in NJ, a camp that eventually became my home and my full time job for over five years. That first summer, though, was intense. To save space (and probably to save face, too) I had opted not to pack my bear for the summer. I figured I was old enough to sleep without him. My first night at camp, I found myself sleeping on damp sheets on a rickety old army cot, under a mosquito net, in a tee-pee. I instantly felt the need for comfort and regretted not having my source of comfort with me. So, on my first chance, I called my mom and had her send me my bear. Yep, I took my bear to camp with me...as a counselor!

While I loved that new bear, Bear holds a special place in my heart. Imagine my delight, then, when the other morning Cyrus came out of my mom's bedroom holding Bear lovingly in his arms, and squealing with joy. Perhaps Bear has one more generation of comfort left in him, after all...

A Creepy Trend

2010-11-11T20:56:00.000-08:00

As Jason and I try to find a place to live in a city with which we are not too familiar, we have to rely on certain tools to figure out if a neighborhood is worthy to house the Wells family. One of those tools is crime mapper that show the different types of crimes that have occurred in that area in the past few months; the other one is a sex offender search.

Tonight, I entered the address of a place we are considering into the Arizona sex offender database. It pops up a three-square mile map that shows where sex offenders live, as well as locations of schools and daycare centers. Fortunately, there were no sex offenders in the exact neighborhood of the potential house. However, I did notice an extremely disturbing trend: It appeared that there were little clusters of sex offenders living near most of the schools and daycare centers! I was chatting with my cousin at the time, and she had me search her address, too - which is in a decidedly nicer neighborhood - and we found the same thing! Not only is that extremely creepy, but isn't that against the rules? If not, it should be. In some cases, the sex offender appeared to live literally next door or within a few houses of the school or daycare. That just sketches me out.

So, I would suggest that if you haven't already, you might want to check out your state's sex offender database. It probably won't convince you to move, and it probably won't convince me not move somewhere (unless of course I discover that one is living right next door...that might be a little too much to handle) but at least by knowing you can be a little more aware of your surroundings - especially if you find the creepy sex offender clusters near your child's school or daycare! I'd be curious to know if this trend occurs in other cities...Let me know what you find out.

Dinner: Impossible

2010-11-10T19:49:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons that I am so very excited to move down to Phoenix (besides the obvious one of being with my husband) is that we finally get to have our own place again! We've both been living with family members for the past four plus months, but even before that we didn't totally have our own place. We lived in the basement of my dad and step-mom's house in Portland for almost a year and a half. They had moved to California and rented out bedrooms on the top floor. We had the responsibility of managing the renters and finding people to move in when someone moved out. We actually had quite a bit of space downstairs, including a living room, a large bedroom for us, a decent sized bedroom for Cy and a bathroom. Although the separation between the main floor and the basement really wasn't enough to have total privacy, we eventually got used to keeping our voices down in certain areas.

Because we excepted three people to share the upstairs kitchen, we thought it might be an easier sell if we weren't also using it. So, we set ourselves up in the downstairs kitchen. Take a look.

Looks pretty nice, right? Except, do you notice a few things missing? Like, say, a stove? Oh don't worry, I had one:

What about an oven? Here it is.

And the fridge?

OK, OK, this isn't all we had. We kept essentials like milk, eggs, butter, yogurt, cheese, etc in here. We actually had a full sized fridge and a small chest freezer. The only catch was that they were on our back patio! So, most of the time, I had to go outside to get food. In addition to the items pictured, I also had a rice cooker that doubled (or I guess tripled?) as a veggie steamer and pasta cooker, a small outdoor grill and two crockpots.

A lot of people I've talked to about this kitchen have commented that they would just eat out most of the time. Believe me, this was appealing, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that sometimes we gave in (some weeks more often than others!). However, our budget and our desire to maintain some level of healthful eating meant that I needed to cook dinner most night. It's actually quite amazing how many things you can make with enough of the right counter top appliances and a little creativity. Casseroles and enchiladas fit nicely in the toaster oven if I used smaller pans, and the electric skillet could be used for a myriad of things. We even managed to make 90% of Cy's baby food in this kitchen. I have to say, though, that the number one most used appliance was the crockpot - it pretty much saved my life. I probably used it four or five nights a week, not to mention that it was the primary vessel for most of the baby food making. And this website saved dinner on more than one occasion!

There were a few things that weren't terribly practical, and therefore, just didn't get consumed very often. I actually didn't cook pasta all that often because the rice cooker took forever and was too small to cook very much. Deserts were a challenge because the toaster oven wasn't quite big enough for a cake pan or cookie sheet. (Although, about a month before we moved out, we found a quarter sheet pan that fit perfectly!) Also, meals that dirtied multiple appliances were limited just due to the massive pain it was to clean them in our tiny sink with the HUGE faucet! A few times, we did ask the upstairs roommates if we could borrow their oven for things like birthday cake, or a large pan of enchiladas. But then we had to go up and down the stairs, invading their space multiple times, so we tried not to do that too often.

Obviously, this "kitchen" wasn't intended as a kitchen at all - it was simply meant to be a bar for an entertaining basement. In fact, before my parents remodeled, the basement actually had a fully functional kitchen, and two privacy doors leading upstairs! They took all of that out to make the house more buyer-friendly. Then when they couldn't sell it, they decided to rent it out, and thus we ended up with the non-kitchen.

Admittedly, the kitchen could have been much, much worse, like that one in Harlem! And we made due just fine. Most nights I had a pretty good attitude about the whole thing, although there were plenty of nights when making dinner felt like some sick, never-ending Food Newtork challenge! But believe me when I tell you how very much I will appreciate having a stove, and an oven and a dishwasher, and, oh yeah, my fridge actually in my kitchen! Do me a favor though, and remind me of this in a year when I'm complaining about cooking dinner and doing the dishes...

Who needs Toys R Us?

2010-11-09T19:49:00.000-08:00

Cyrus has discovered an assortment of favorite "toys" from around the house. It doesn't matter that he has a whole basket of toys - these items are way more fun!

My mom has all these plastic bins for storing ribbon and other sundry craft items. Cy's favorite activity is to open the containers, take out all the ribbon, unravel it and spread it all over the floor. When he can't do that, he is content to simply take the containers off the shelves, stack them, carry them around, and then put them back, only to repeat again.

What is more fun than taking things out of a draw and strewing them about the floor? Apparently, nothing. The snack sized ziplocs seem to be his favorite. I rarely actually allow him to take the boxes out of the drawer and then the baggies out of the boxes. Cy knows this, so often he runs over and opens the drawer, pulls out one or two baggies, then makes a run for it, giggling all the way.

No, I don't let my child play with oven. That would be dangerous. When no one is looking, he pulls this knob off of the oven and runs away with it, hiding it in some obscure location. I guess it's like hide and seek...

Ok, this one I kind of get, and I guess it is a toy of sorts. It might be the ugliest thing I've ever seen, and it sings this goofy song about the "Cupid Shuffle" while shuffling all over the place. (I probably just exposed my total and complete lack of coolness, as I think this might be a real song). Cy figured out how to push the button to make him sing, so we get to hear this about 50 times a day. Sometimes Cy lets him dance, but sometimes he gets so excited that he picks him up and carries him around while he sings.

What odd things do your kids find entertaining?

Counting down the days...

2010-11-08T20:21:00.000-08:00

Ugh. Cyrus and I leave for Phoenix in 13 days, and suddenly, things that I've been tolerating for the past four months have become completely intolerable. For some reason, the last two weeks of any experience are always the hardest for me. In elementary school, the last two weeks before vacation made me restless and antsy. Anytime I've been away from home for an extended period of time, I hardly miss my family until I'm about ready to go home, and then it becomes almost unbearable.

Now that the end is in sight, being without my husband and being the sole parent for Cyrus is driving me a little nuts. Not to mention that fact that we've been living in someone else's house, albeit my parent's house, for the past four months. I lost my patience and yelled at Cyrus three times today. And it wasn't that he was being unusually naughty - I just couldn't keep my cool. He has recently started throwing a massive fit every time I change his diaper. Usually, I try to find something to distract him, or I sing him a song, but today, I suddenly felt overwhelmed and frustrated at being the only parent, and instead of trying to help him out, I yelled. Loudly. And I might have cursed. Now, don't get me wrong, my parents have been incredibly helpful, but it's just not the same thing as having Jason around to jump in when I just can't do it any more. It probably doesn't help that Cyrus woke up at 4:30am today for the second day in a row (stupid daylight savings time).

I've been trying to remind myself all day long that I just need to make it a little while longer and then our little family can be together again, in our own house. Now, if Cyrus could maybe sleep in past 5am tomorrow, I might just make it!

How My TV Obsessions Reflect my Phase in Life

2010-11-07T19:18:00.000-08:00

There was a time in my life when I was totally addicted to the TLC show "A Baby Story". I think it started about a year or so after Jason and I got married, which is probably when I started thinking about having a baby. I loved hearing the couples' stories and seeing the labor and birth process. I especially liked the 6 weeks later update. This obsession continued all the way through my pregnancy with Cyrus. Sometimes, I panicked about how my birth would go, especially after watching an episode that ended with unplanned C-section or some other complication. Since I was aiming for a natural birth, these episodes really upset me, especially as I got closer and closer to my due date. On several occasions, after a panic session, Jason "banned" me from watching it! I watched it anyway, but tried to limit my panicking, at least for a while.

The funny this is that once I gave birth, I had very little interest in the show. I tried to watch it again a few weeks after Cy was born, and I don't think I made it through even one episode! Before he was born, I watched four episodes a day, and probably could have watched more.

Well, I've moved on. I supposed it is because I am entering a period in my life in which home-ownership has become a primary goal for me that I am now obsessed with HGTV's "House Hunters". I also quite like "My First Place" and "Property Virgins". All three of these shows chronicle a different couple's journey toward purchasing a home in each episode. Though the format is slightly different for each show, they typically follow the couple through viewing three homes, discussing their options, and making the final decision. On "House Hunters" they do an update 2-4 months later and show some of the updates that the couple has made to the home. As with "A Baby Story", these shows sometimes spark some worry in me. I worry that we'll never be in a place to actually buy a home, or that once we are, that it will be too difficult to find what we (I) want for our budget.

As I was writing this, I remembered a time before I was married when TLC still aired "A Wedding Story". I seem to remember that I had a mild obsession with this show for the first year and a half that I lived in New York, before Jason moved out there and we got engaged. In fact, I may have even kept watching it until we were married.

It would seem that just before I enter a new stage in my life, I latch on to a reality show that follows people embarking on that same journey. A year ago, I was completely uninterested in the HGTV shows. I can remember visiting my mom and finding "House Hunters" incredibly boring whenever she had it on. I suppose I was still too wrapped up in entering the baby-phase. I imagine that once we own a home, my interest in the HGTV shows will also wane a bit, just as it did with "A Baby Story" and "A Wedding Story".

Does this ring true for anyone else? My husband would argue that I am a lone weirdo in this way, but I have to imagine that other people go through the same thing; otherwise, how would there be a constant audience for these shows?

Random side note: I looking back over my NaBLoPoMo posts from last year and realized that I wrote a Fall post last year as well - and it is almost identical to the one I wrote this year! I guess this is further proof that I really, really like fall!

I'll be accepting my award next week...

2010-11-06T19:36:00.000-07:00

...for mother of the year.

This beauty happened this afternoon while I was apartment hunting (online). He ran for the dog bed (one of his favorite places to hang out), slipped, and ran into the heat register.

This happened about three weeks ago while I was working in the garage. He was playing on the cement step outside of the garage. I heard him whimper, but he never cried. Then 20 minutes later, my mom exclaimed "What happened to his head?!?" This is what it looked like three days later.

My mom keeps chalking it up to "boys will be boys"...but perhaps it's just "kids will be kids"?

Flashback Friday: Apartment Hunting in the Bronx

2010-11-05T20:46:00.000-07:00

I have basically spent all afternoon trying to find apartments in Phoenix, which has had me thinking about the last time we looked for apartments. It was the fall of 2005, and Jason had just moved to New York. I was living with a friend at the time, and things between us got kind of tense, so Jason and I needed to find a new place to live pretty quickly.

Our budget was $1,000 a month, which, almost anywhere else in the country, seems lush for a 1 bedroom apartment. However, it was actually quite meager in NYC. We considered Queens and Brooklyn, two far more hip and happening boroughs, but ultimately decided to limit our search to upper Manhattan and the Bronx. I felt comfortable with these areas, as I had been living in the Bronx for the past 18 months and commuting through upper Manhattan. Plus, we figured that we could get more for our money in both space and proximity to the train in these areas.

We ended up checking out only one apartment in upper Manhattan. It was in Harlem, somewhere around 120th street or so. My commute would have been a mere 20 minutes, which was awesome (compared to the hour I had in the Bronx). The apartment went for around $1050 a month - a little high, but possibly worth it. We met the super at the front door, and she took us up to the apartment. As she did, she asked us if we cooked often. When we answered yes, she commented "well, that could be a problem".

We didn't know what she meant until we saw the "kitchen". Friends, it was tinier than tiny. The whole kitchen was a 3 ft by 4ft room. The sink was a bar sink; there was a single kitchen cabinet hanging above the sink. The counter space? A 6in x 12in piece of plywood covered in laminate and literally glued to the wall next to the sink. The fridge and stove stood side by side and looked like a full size fridge and stove that had found their way into Wayne Szalinski's electro-magnetic shrink ray. The stove had four burners, and the fridge had a freezer door on the top, but they were about 2/3 the size of your standard appliances. We laughed out loud. So this is what $1000 was going to get us in Harlem, huh? Nope, we'll stick to the Bronx.

Well, the Bronx had it's own challenges. We checked out one apartment that was listed for $800 - a real deal! It wasn't in the best part of town, but we were pretty tough, so we went to have a look. Now, keep in mind that for my job, I went to some of the most notoriously dangerous neighborhoods in New York, and I sometimes went there at night, by myself. I don't scare easily. But as soon as we got out of the car, in broad daylight, I felt afraid. We should have just gotten back in the car, but we were already there, so we went inside. The building wreaked of urine and had dark, dingy hallways. The unit itself was painted a bright orange throughout. Linoleum covered all the floors, including bedrooms and living room. This kitchen was closer to normal, but the bathroom was so small that Jason literally could not sit on the toilet. We were there a total of 5 minutes.

We applied to a few other apartments that were passable, but most were on the fourth or fifth floor of a walk up, had no laundry facilities in the building, and had no dishwasher (not a must, but definitely helpful). Then, just when we were getting discouraged, we found a diamond in the rough. The apartment was in a pre-war building that had recently changed ownership. The new owners were cleaning up the building and renovating the units. It had good security at the door, with a video phone in each apartment, laundry in the basement and an elevator. Even better, they had a ground floor apartment (remember, we have an 80 pound dog - ground floor is good!)

The apartment itself was amazing. We were moving into a newly renovated unit with hardwood floors, tile in the bathroom and kitchen, brand new bathroom fixtures and brand new kitchen appliances - including a dishwasher! And, best of all, it was only $975!

Check out that video surveillance and nice long hallway!

Shiny new appliances, lots of counter space, bright new cabinets! A think of beauty!

That is a lot of space for a New York apartment! Heck, for any apartment!

Bright white tile, bright white toilet, bright white sink. It's nice to know that you are the first person to use your own toilet!

Once we found this little gem, we determined that we would only leave that apartment when we left New York! We enjoyed 3.5 years there before moving to Portland. Oh man, I loved that apartment! Our accommodation in Portland had its own set of challenges, but we'll save that for another day!

What have your apartment/house hunting experiences been? Any good stories?

Soaking up the Fall

2010-11-04T20:44:00.000-07:00

My blog background isn't just a nod to the current season, it is an homage to my favorite season! For as long as I can remember, fall as been my most anticipated time of year. I have been lucky to spend most of my life in places that have beautiful falls. New York's summers and winters leave a lot to be desired, but fall there is amazing - all the leaves change colors, there is a crispness to the air before the bitter winds of winter set in and there seems to be a general air of festivity. I happen to love all of Portland's seasons, but fall is especially amazing. Then there were my four years in Los Angeles...not so much fall happening there. Since I am soon moving to the land of no seasons, I am pleased to be spending this fall in Denver, where I can soak up most of my favorite things about the season. Hopefully it will hold me for a few years before I can make my way to another beautiful autumn. Here is why I love fall (and I realize that these things are kind of cliche, but they truly are my favorites, so who cares?)

The colors. Purple, brown, orange, red, green, yellow. It's a rainbow every time I go outside!

Piles of leaves. When I was a kid, I always wanted to rake up all the leaves into big piles and then jump in them, like kids did on TV. I don't actually remember if I ever did this, but I still get a nostalgic feeling when I see all the leaves on the ground, or even better, piles of raked up leaves! (Does anyone actually rake leaves anymore, or does everyone just use a leaf blower? I need to make a mental note to rake leaves at least once if I ever get my own yard...)

The weather. Jeans and sweaters are pretty much my favorite clothing items, but I also hate having to bundle up with a coat, scarf and gloves. Fall provides the perfect balance for me. I can wear what I love both inside and outside without a lot of effort. And, I can spend time outside without being sweaty or freezing, neither of which I enjoy very much.

The food. Hot apple cider, chicken soup and dumplings, beef stew, pot roast, enchiladas, pie. Yum! Sure, I could enjoy these foods any time of year, but the warmth and comfort they provide seems most appropriate for when the weather is just starting to cool off.

My favorite holiday. If there is one thing I love more than fall, it is Thanksgiving. What is better than a holiday dedicated to food and family? It's pretty hard to Hallmark it up, too, although people have tried. But there just isn't much to commercialize about a good meal and spending time with loved ones. And, you really don't need a crap ton of money to feel like you are making the most of it. The whole fall season seems to lead up to this down-home, humble holiday. Just thinking about it makes me giddy!

Fall activities. Unfortunately, I didn't get to participate in some of my favorites this year, but in the past I have enjoyed visits to pumpkin patches, hikes amongst the changing leaves, and apple picking. I just love the whole harvest spirit that surrounds these activities and the season.

There you have it. How about you? Anyone else with me on Fall? Did I leave something out? Have a different favorite season?

Timing is Everything

2010-11-03T19:58:00.000-07:00

As you may know from previous posts, Jason and I are not currently living in the same city, nor even the same state. Our lives are in major transition and we really thought that we would be living together again by now. However, as of the weekend, Jason was no closer to having a store and I had resigned myself to the goal of being together by Christmas. I figured that, this way, if we got to be together sooner, I'd be overjoyed, and if it actually took until Christmas, I wouldn't be terribly disappointed. To this end, on Monday night I bought a ticket to go see Jason for 10 days at Thanksgiving. On Tuesday morning, I paid for a month of Stroller Strides classes. Wouldn't you know it, Jason called me Tuesday afternoon with the long anticipated news that he had finally been given a store! I guess Murphy's law is in full effect in the Wells family.

Anyway, we will now be making this place our new home:

Yep, we are moving to the land of the sun - good old Phoenix, AZ. I now have the welcome tasks of A) figuring out how to get our van, dog and baby down to AZ without running into (literal) mountains of snow; and B)finding an apartment that meets our needs and fits into our rather minute budget in as little time as possible so that we don't overrun my brother-in-law's house for any more time than is absolutely necessary.

Despite the immediate challenges, I am extremely excited to be laying down roots somewhere and to be out of parents' basements for the first time in 18 months! Oh yeah, and it will be nice to be with my husband again.

Not a Teacher or a Doctor, but a...?

2010-11-02T19:52:00.000-07:00

Remember when we were kids and someone asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up? I seem to remember that I thought there were only a few handfuls of possible professions available to me: the standards (Teacher, Police Officer, Doctor, Lawyer, etc) and then whatever professions my parents had. In my case, construction worker, produce deliverer and chef (the latter two were my mom - and yes, at some point around the age of 4 or 5, I wanted to own my own produce company and drive a big blue pickup truck and deliver produce...) I think that this relatively narrow view of potential professions or careers continued on up through at least middle school, widening to include things like veterinarian or orchestra conductor (don't ask).

I know for a fact that I never considered what I currently do as a potential job. I'm not even sure what to call it, but it is interesting. At the moment, I work with my mom for my uncle, who owns his own business. Essentially, we buy people's collections of a collectible item. I can't say explicitly what that item is, but I will you give you some basic details, so that you get the idea.

This item was not intended as a collectible item when it was first introduced.
It was first produced over a 150 years ago, but new additions of it are introduced each year.
It is still used for its original purpose today.
Some items are worth thousands of dollars, while others are worth only pennies. The difference between the two values is sometimes only visible to the very trained eye.

My specific job has several components. I spend a good portion of my day answering phones and talking with people who want to sell their collections. As you might imagine, with the current economy, people are really looking for a quick source of cash. Some of the phone calls I get are actually quite hilarious. For some reason, the people who collect this item tend to be a bit...off. In fact, if I'm talking with someone who seams relatively normal, I can almost guarantee that they inherited the collection. Here is a conversation I had with the original collector of a collection that illustrates my points.

Man on phone: "I live in Scottsdale, AZ. It is near Phoenix. Do you know what the difference is between Scottsdale and Phoenix?"

Me: "Um, no..."

Man on Phone: "People in Scottsdale are supposed to have more money. Let me tell you a little story. I took my pants to a dry cleaners in Phoenix. They wanted to charge me $5. I took those same pants across the street to a dry cleaners in Scottsdale. They wanted to charge me $8! When I asked them why, they said, because people have more money in Scottsdale. So, do you know where I take my pants?"

Me: "Um, to the dry cleaner's in Phoenix?"

Let me give you a hint - we don't deal in pants! Why was this part of the conversation necessary? Sir, I do not care about your pants!

Sometimes, people ship their collections to us to be evaluated. Then we make an offer. Unfortunately, people often have expectations that far exceed the reality of the market, and thus they are unhappy with the offer. If I'm lucky, I get to hear them complain or yell on the phone. Then I get to repack their collections and return them. To ensure that no one accuses us of stealing anything, we have to leave the entire collection in it's original boxes, find boxes just slightly larger than the originals, and then put the originals in the new boxes. Then I have to weigh the boxes, create shipping labels based on the weight of the individual boxes, then tape the labels onto the boxes. The process requires an inordinate amount of packing tape. It is not such a big deal if we are talking about 1 or 2 boxes, or even 5. However, recently, I repacked and returned 25 boxes...25! The whole process of finding the right size box, building the box, taping the box shut, weighing, printing labels and affixing labels took me nearly two days! I promise you, I never thought I'd be repacking boxes for a living!

The final part of my job is actually, secretly, my favorite. It's data entry. Yep, you heard me right - data entry. Well, not just the entry, but the design and maintenance of a database. I love the simplicity of the data, the logic of creating the database, and how neat and tidy all of the forms look. I used to think that I could never do data entry for a living - I thought it was boring and monotonous. Which it is, sometimes. But there is something exciting about creating systems and making things more efficient.

So, how about you? Are you currently working in your childhood dream profession? Did you even know that your current profession existed when you were a kid? Is there a part of your job, or maybe the whole thing, that you find oddly satisfying?

NaBloPoMo is Here!

2010-11-01T20:38:00.000-07:00

It is that time of year again, and I won't lie, I've been looking forward to this for quite some time. Last year, I revived my blog with NaBloPoMo in October. It was the first time since I started it that I posted regularly. I loved feeling like I was finally contributing to the blogging world, instead of just reading everyone else's blogs. While I maintained the posting momentum for a few months, things petered out and then died altogether by the end of April. I went a full five months before I picked it back up, and I have to admit that part of the reason I started posting in October was to gain momentum for NaBloPoMo in November.

While I enjoyed writing alongside my friend Kristen in October last year, come November, I realized that many of the blogs I followed were taking the challenge during that month. I felt a little left out and determined that this year, should my blog need reviving, I would take the challenge in November, right alongside Bridget and a few others.

So here I am. Ready for 30 posts in 30 days! I've got all kinds of good stuff I've been saving just for this occasion. Now, I realize that it is late on this, the first day of November, and that the few of you who read this blog will likely not read this until at least the 2nd of November, but I urge you to join me anyway! Who cares if you're a day late? Write an extra post one day if it makes you feel better! All right now, who's with me?

My Beef with Children's Clothing Manufacturers

2010-10-25T21:19:00.000-07:00

I'm sure that this will come as no surprise to parents of boys, but there is some serious inequality in the availability of clothing for baby boys versus baby girls (and I expect that this trend continues somewhat as children get older). Go into any baby department in any store, and you'll notice pretty quickly that the girl's section is about three times as large as the boy's section. I'll be honest - most of the time, I kind of like this disparity. For one, I'm a terrible decision maker, so having limited choices is really better for me. For another, baby/toddler girl clothes are kind of hard to resist - even Jason can't contain his oohs and awes when we happen to wander into the girl's section. If I had a little girl, I'd be way too tempted to spend money on things we don't really need.

However. There are times when limited choices are a major challenge. The difference in availability of clothes seems to be even more pronounced when it comes to dressy outfits. And herein lies the heart of my beef with clothing manufacturers. It would seem that, unless it is Christmas or Easter, baby boys only want, no, only need, to wear play clothes or clothes that make them look like tiny versions of some very hip male adult (who is most likely, not a father). They do not ever need to attend weddings, funerals, or even church. Unless of course their parents want to spend half a paycheck at some high end children's clothing store.

Not only do we go to church (almost) every Sunday and in fact have relatively formal expectations for our attire, but our family has had four major events to attend since Cyrus was born, all of which required something nicer than a pair of jeans. For each event, I've struggled to find something that looked nice enough for family pictures, but didn't scream the nearest holiday occasion.

Now that Cyrus is walking, I've reached another level of frustration - dress shoes! Go to Target and there are rows of cute little Mary Janes in all different colors. For boys you have two choices - a pair of inflexible black lace up shoes (which anyone with a 15 month old knows is just a tantrum waiting to happen) or brown suede loafers with a thick white sole. Hmm.

Our most recent occasion for needing dressy clothes is, unfortunately, the funeral of my Grandfather. I wanted something nice, but understated, and I didn't want Cy to be all decked out in red and green. Believe me when I tell you that my mom and I spent over 4 hours searching for something that was a) appropriate for the occasion, b) was not a cheap polyester suit and c) would have more than one use.

Fortunately, we eventually found an outfit, including shoes. None of it was cheap, but I think we'll get several uses out of it. Plus, I happen to think he looks pretty dashing! All the more reason that there should be more options for dressing up little boys. Just try and tell me this isn't as cute as a little girl in a party dress!

Excuse the tags. This was the "make it sure it fits in case we have to take it back" wearing. Also, notice the cell phone? It's an out-of-service one that my parents had lying around and it's pretty much his favorite toy. I hope this isn't foreshadowing...

What Goes Around Comes Around

2010-10-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

It is a known fact in my family that, while she loves it very much, my mom really can't sing. My father, on the other hand, is very musical, and I like to think that I got some of his musical ability. I've always considered myself a pretty good singer, and I participated in various touring choirs and solo performances throughout my high school and college years. My dad claims that I could "carry a tune" from a pretty young age.

Since my parents were divorced, they both had the duty of singing to me when I was little, which I think I enjoyed very much, at least up to a point. One of my mom's favorite stories to tell is about the time that I came home from my dad's house after the spending the weekend with him when I was about six years old, and as my mom started to sing me to sleep, I clapped my hands over my ears and ran out of the room shouting "No mommy, don't sing!"

Not one of my finer moments. Don't worry, though, because it seems that the universe is out to even things up a bit. I have sung to Cyrus before bedtime pretty much his whole life. For the last few nights, though, he has started making a highly unpleasant sound every time I start singing to him, and only stops when I stop singing. I have had no choice but to assume that he would prefer it if I not sing to him anymore. This is somewhat heartbreaking - what parent doesn't love to sing their child to sleep? Hmm, I guess now I know how my mom must have felt all those years ago. Perhaps I owe her an apology...

A little dose of reality...

2010-10-17T19:32:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been feeling kind of old. Not old in general, but old for a mom with a one year old. I didn't realize it until last week, but I think this is because, for the past year and a half, most of my exposure to moms has been through the Mormon church. In Mormon culture, it seems to be the norm for moms my age to have children who are already in school and to be on child number three or four. They might even be done having children, whereas I am just getting started. All of the new moms I've come into contact with are a good four or five years younger than I. I got pretty used to being one of the oldest "new" moms in any given setting. Apparently, this started to give me a complex.

Because of our current family situation (me living in Denver, Jason living in Phoenix), we've had to delay expanding our family. And I've actually started to panic about this, because Cyrus is a whole 15 months old and I'm not pregnant again! (Another norm in Mormon culture - when child A turns 1, mom should become pregnant shortly thereafter). And I'm almost 30! And we want to have four kids! And I'm so old!

And then, last Thursday, everything came back into perspective for me. For the past three months, I have been attending a Stroller Strides class here in Denver. On Thursday night, a few of us got together for dinner and some time away from babies. All of these moms have infants, most of whom are younger than Cyrus. Throughout the course of the evening, I discovered that, not only was I the youngest mom there, but I was the youngest by quite a few years - in some cases, a full 10. And, not only did these women all have young children, but most were still planning to have more.

Huh. Oh yeah... As far as the rest of society is concerned, I am still young. I'm not this ancient, time-waster who waited too long to start my family.

Before I joined the church, and, truthfully, before I started dating Jason, I really thought that I wouldn't even get married until I was 28 or 30, and who knew when I would have kids. But being around all of these young Mormon moms made me forget that there are lots of ways to live life. Sometimes, I do wish that I had been able to start my family earlier, but that just wasn't in the cards for us. I wasn't in a place to get married, much less have kids at 21 or 23 - that just wasn't me.

There are lots of things I like about belonging to a community where people follow similar paths. It makes a lot of things easier, especially when many of those paths are not followed by mainstream society. (Abstaining from alcohol and coffee, for example). But, as I've recently realized, it is important to have my social circle extend beyond this community, if for no other reason then to help me maintain a broader perspective on the different ways that life can be lived.

Yep! We're alive...

2010-10-13T19:34:00.000-07:00

So. I've decided that going too long without blogging becomes a little like going too long without talking to an old friend. The longer I go, the more guilty I feel, which makes it that much harder to pick up the phone (sit down at the computer) and say hi. Plus, the longer I go, the more there is to talk about and I start to put off the conversation because I know how long it will take us to catch up. Eventually, though, my desire to talk to my old friend outweighs the guilt and overcomes the procrastination. So here we are.

Our little family has been through quite a few changes in the past five months (five!) since I last blogged. A lot of these events deserve at least one, if not more, posts of their own...but if I try to write a post for everything that has happened, I'll get so overwhelmed that I'll never blog ever again! So, instead, here is the reader's digest version of the past few months:

At the end of April, Jason lost his job. It was a contracted position that we hoped would be made permanent, but it wasn't. Along with losing income, we also lost our amazing government insurance plan. We joined the ranks of the uninsured and the unemployed.

Despite applying to well over 100 positions, Jason did not get one single interview - a testament to the dire state of employment in the state of Oregon. So he started applying outside of the state.

In May, we flew to Phoenix, AZ for a job interview with a national pool supply company. They offered him a position as a manager in training. The starting salary is painfully low, but the growth potential is fantastic. So, despite my strong hate of the heat and my love for rainy, gray, fall Portland days, we made the decision to pack up and leave our beloved Portland for Arizona.

Kind of...

The training program would only last three to six months, and then Jason could be relocated anywhere in the country. The thought of finding an apartment and unpacking all of our stuff just in time to pack it all back up and move again pretty much made me want to cry. I hate packing even more than I hate heat! Plus, that painfully low starting salary was in fact too low to support our family. So we made a crazy decision. We packed all of our stuff into a UHaul and all headed east. At Salt Lake, Jason, the UHaul and the cat headed south to Phoenix and moved in temporarily with Jason's saintly brother and sister-in-law. Cyrus, the minivan, Jager and I continued east to Denver, CO and moved in with my saintly parents.

In addition to saving money on rent and other related expenses, the separation gave me the opportunity to work with my mom for my uncle's business three days a week while my step-dad babysat.

The goal was for us to reunite with Jason at the end of September...then the end of October...and now our reunion has been further postponed until Jason actually acquires his own store, hopefully sometime mid-November. At this point, Phoenix is looking highly likely, but nothing is 100%.

The good news is that, in the meantime, we have paid off our credit card and have actually started saving money - both of which we have been trying to do for about three years!

While all of that was going on, Cyrus celebrated his first birthday and somehow turned into a little boy overnight, and we said goodbye to Jason's amazing Grandma Hazel.

Ahh, that feels better. All three of you who read my blog are now officially updated! Now perhaps I can get back to some more regular blogging!

Note: Pictures would probably make this rather boring narrative a little more interesting. However, all of our pictures are on the computer, which is in Jason's possession. Rather than further postpone this long over due post, I just decided to bite the bullet and write it without the pictures. Maybe I'll post some in the next few days...

I didn't know we knew each other...

2010-04-23T23:03:00.000-07:00

but Kevin James must have been standing behind me in Hallmark one day...

The Wall Couch

2010-03-04T23:43:00.000-08:00

Over the past several years, Jason and I have slowly been working toward having a grown-up looking living room. This is challenging, though not impossible, when all of your furniture is used, and some of it is free. When we lived in New York, we had one couch that we bought for $99 from Cort Furniture. About two years later, we obtained a second couch for free from a friend. The first couch was purple; the second couch was navy blue. They didn't really match, but we didn't care.

When we moved across the country, we gave away the blue couch, and "donated" the purple couch to the curb outside our apartment building (our cat had pretty much destroyed it - there was stuffing spilling from the arms). My mom helped us buy a "new" used couch and recliner for our living room here. They were both in the brown family, and looked almost like they went together. However, any hope of having a grown up looking living room was dashed by our rolling kitchen cart that served as our TV stand. It was pretty college.

However, once Cy hit about 5 months we realized that he would soon be mobile and that the TV stand just wouldn't cut it anymore - it would only take one time of him pulling himself up on it for the TV to come crashing down on his head. That's bad parenting, people. So we searched craigslist until we found a nice entertainment center for $25. Ahh, our living room was fast approaching grown-up status!

Look at that lovely, grown-up entertainment center! There are even doors that can slide in front of the TV - you don't get more grown-up than a hidden TV!

Unfortunately, our semi-matching couch and recliner had become increasingly more uncomfortable, and we found ourselves favoring the floor over the furniture - even when Cy was in bed! Buying new furniture just wasn't in the cards for us, so when someone from church offered a green leather couch, love seat, and recliner set for free, we jumped at the opportunity. We figured we would keep the couch and recliner and put the love seat upstairs for the upstairs renters. (That reminds me, I'm not sure I've shared much about our current living situation - we live in the basement and rent the three bedrooms upstairs to college students - more about that in another post).

The furniture is well-worn. It is seventeen years old and has been well used and loved, but is still in excellent condition, all things considered. (Although it does smell strangely of a taqueria...) Plus, the couch and love seat each have two recliners built in - sweet! And, all the pieces are clearly part of a set. (Don't worry, this is going somewhere, I promise).

We get the furniture to our house, move our old couch upstairs and move in the new couch and recliner. The living room looks lovely, and, might I add, quite grown up. The downside is that the love seat is slightly more comfortable than the couch because it was used less. However, our living room is just too small to accommodate two couches on two separate walls. And then, Jason gets what he deems a brilliant idea.

Jason: Let's move the love seat in and line it up next to the couch!

Me: But then it will take up the entire wall!

Jason: I know! It will be a wall couch.

Me:...

Jason: And, we could have five recliners in our living room! Five!

Yes, every man's dream. A room full of recliners. I see my grown-up living room slipping away, with a college frat house taking its place. So I tell him that he can try it out, but he has to do it himself - I will have no part in creating the "wall couch". Giddy as a school girl, Jason moves the furniture around and creates his wall couch. I figure that he can have his fun, and then I'll tell him I hate it, and the love seat will be gone.

That, my friends, is a "wall couch"...

But here's the problem. I don't hate it. Not like I thought I would. And, it is actually quite functional. We each have a couch on which to lie - at the same time! And, you know, at least they all match.

So here's my question: Does the fact that all of the couches match outweigh the fact that we have a line of couches in our living room? Have I achieved a grown-up looking living room? Or have I regressed to college frat house? And, if I have regressed, should I care, or should I just enjoy the functionality, and novelty, of having a line of couches and five recliners in my living room?

Five recliners, in all their glory.

Winter Olympics Highlights

2010-03-01T22:10:00.000-08:00

It has been years since I watched the Olympics, either Summer or Winter. For Summer Olympics, I have been essentially sequestered in New Jersey for the last three Olympics. I couldn't remember why I had missed the last Winter Olympics, but then Jason reminded me that they were always on really late at night, and I guess I just wasn't that interested. When I was younger, I LOVED the Olympics. Of course, figure skating and gymnastics were my favorites (I'm pretty sure this is the case with most young girls). So this year, when the Winter Olympics were actually taking place in my time zone, I was all excited for women's figure skating - the rest I would endure if I had too.

However, I was surprised to find that my tastes have grown up a bit, and I was quite entertained by several events other than women's figure skating. In fact (and I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this), I didn't even watch the women's figure skating! So, here were the moments that I found most entertaining, ending with number 1:

4. Ice Dancing. I don't have much to say about this. In fact, my friend Bridget really summed up how I felt about the event this year. I always thought it was the sad little sister to pairs skating, but I found it quite enjoyable this year. Read her post for a more articulate response.

3. Bobsledding. OK, I'll admit it, my only exposure to this sport is the movie Cool Runnings. It didn't seem all that exciting to me, until we happened upon it and saw the US break the track record not once, but twice. I was on the edge of my seat each time they took to the track, but most especially during their fourth run, my eyes glued to that little clock and the time of the German team in first place. I was also shocked at how awful it looks when a team crashes. I believe it was the Russians during their first run - I was kind of horrified, but couldn't pull my eyes away. In a weird way, it almost made it all more exciting.

2. Men's 4x10K Cross Country Relay. Seriously, who would have thought that this would be exciting? This certainly wasn't an event we planned to watch - we just happened upon it on Wednesday evening, right as the fourth and final leg was beginning. For some reason, Norway was expected to do well, I think because of their fourth and final skier, Peter Northug. But at the start of the final leg Northug was 37.5 seconds behind the three leaders - kind of a lot for just 6 miles. The anouncers commented that if anyone could do it, it would be Northug, but they had pretty much written it off as impossible. As we sat and watched sections of the race, we saw that Northug was getting closer and closer to the three leaders. Just before the final mile, Hellner from Sweden pulled out front, leaving the skiers from France the Czech REpublic behind. The amazing thing was that, each time we saw those two skiers, Northug was getting closer and closer. By the time they entered the stadium, he was right behind them! There I was, cheering on this crazy skier from Norway in a sport about which I cared very little! I knew the gold was out of his hands, but I so badly wanted him to overtake the other two and win the silver. And then, he did! He got this amazing burst of speed and just flew by the other two guys, looking almost effortless. It was a surprisingly exciting moment!

1. Men's Short Track Speed Skating, specifically Apollo Ohno, and more specifically the final of the Men's 1500. Who knew that short track was oh so exciting? It's a bit like roller derby, and can change in the standings can change in the blink of an eye. Every time I watched Apollo skate, I was just sure that he wouldn't medal - and almost every time (the exception being when he was disqualified from the men's 500) he made it, just in the knick of time! His moves were effortless and graceful - every time he passed someone, I was in shock that it had happened so quickly! My favorite moment was in the final of the Men's 1500. Apollo was in fourth place, with one lap to go, and there was just no way he was going to make it. I got so stressed out that I stood up and then sat back down, inadvertently sitting on the cable remote at exactly the crucial moment! I happened to hit the button that brings up the guide, covering the entire TV screen, but stilling allowing us to hear what happened. Right when the TV went blue, the two South Korean's in first and second place took each other out, putting Apollo in second and the other US skater in third! Jason was less than pleased with me at that moment. It was a very exciting race, made even more suspenseful by my over-excited, klutzy behavior!

I think the Winter Olympics has a new fan. And now I'm kind of excited to see what the Summer Olympics has to offer in 2012. Bring it on! What were your favorite Winter Olympic moments?

Not So Roseola!

2010-02-24T11:22:00.000-08:00

Yeah, let's not talk about how long it has been since my last post...I have a newsflash - motherhood is hard! (Wait, this isn't news? huh...) Motherhood is hard even when you have a really easy baby. And let me just say that, thus far, Cyrus is a really easy baby. He smiles most of the time, rarely cries (except during middle of the night diaper changes) fusses for very brief moments when I take away something he wants, naps for about 4 hours a day, and only wakes up once a night. ( I realize, by the way, that I am tempting fate here - don't worry, I'm fully prepared for him to turn into a heathen at any moment. For now I will enjoy what I have!)

Although I kind of knew that he was a pretty good baby, I don't think I fully appreciated just how good I had it until I got a taste - albeit a very small one - of what he could be like. Cy started last week with a really high fever - it was 104.4 at the highest. I took him to urgent care on Monday and they told me that, besides the high fever, he seemed to be in pretty good health. Apparently, they don't really worry about the fever unless it stays there for 12 hours without ever going down, goes up to 105, or shows some other symptom. The doctor did mention, however, that he could be getting Roseola, which basically starts with a high fever for about three days, then presents an all-body rash once the fever breaks. Those are the only two symptoms, according to the doctor. (Remember this, this is important).

While Cy had the fever, he slept even better than normal. On Monday night, he slept 11 hours straight, a record. He took 2 2.5 hour naps on Monday and Tuesday. Then Tuesday night he started waking up every 3 hours or so. By Wednesday morning, his fever had just about broken, and only reach about 101. There was no rash, so I figured we were in the clear. He didn't nap particularly well on Wednesday, but I didn't think that was too big of a deal.

Then Wednesday night, he woke up every two hours. On Thursday, the rash showed up, along with a different baby. My previously easy-going, smiley, happy baby had turned into Mr. Sensitive Cranky-pants. He cried at the drop of a hat. Every time I laid him down to change his diaper or put on clothes, it was like the world was ending. If he toppled over and bumped his head (which he does about 30 times a day) he screamed like someone cut off his finger. If I left him for more than 30 seconds, I'm pretty sure the whole neighborhood could hear him. You get the idea. He also went from taking 2 2-hour naps to taking 1-2 1 hour naps. Yeah. This was not just "Oh, Cy is having a bad day". This was full-on fussiness. (Which, by the way, does not seem to adequetately describe what was going on, but that seems to be the official term for it...it just doesn't quite cut it for me).

If I thought that was bad, however, I was really in for it Thursday night. Not only did he wake up every two hours, but he woke up angry. Inconsolable, red in the face, full lungs angry! Nursing only worked half the time. He was awake for about 2 hours from 3am to 5am, and would start crying for no apparent reason every 2 minutes or so, then calm down, then repeat. By the way, this NEVER happens. Once he's down for the night, he wakes up to nurse, then immediately goes back to sleep. He didn't even really do this was he was a newborn. I was beginning to see why some people only have one baby...

So I did a little digging on the good old internet, and found several sources that listed some additional symptoms of Roseola - one of them being high irritability and fussiness. Bingo. Some other symptoms were poor appetite, a minor cough, and minor diarrhea - all of which Cy had, but had been overshadowed by the fussiness. (Have I mentioned yet how fussy he was?)

So I called the doctor back because, although the internet properly diagnosed his symptoms, the doctor had failed to mention these things, and I wanted some assurance that Cy hadn't come down with some other awful illness. They had me come in Friday afternoon, and basically confirmed that he had Roseola. However, the doctor still seemed perplexed by the other symptoms and gave no real explanation. Whatever. This is a case where I think I believe the internet over my doctor. I was just glad there was nothing else going on.

Fortunately, Cy's fussiness is gone, he is back to waking only once a night, and taking blissfully long naps. And I am thanking God, the Universe, fate, and anyone else who might be involved, for giving me this sweet, easy baby. I do know that Cy could turn into that other baby again at some point, and for real this time, with no weird illness to blame. I also know that Baby #2 (or #3 or #4) could be that fussy baby full time, and I am fine with that. I think...

It's a New Year

2010-01-04T20:33:00.000-08:00

Sigh. Things in the blogging world just kind of petered out at the end of 2009 for me - not quite the big finish I was hoping for. Oh well. Here's to a new month and a new year, hopefully full of more consistent blogging. I can proudly say that I averaged 48 posts in 2009 - just shy of one post a week. Not bad considering that I went five full months without a single post.

So this post isn't really a real post. It's more just my way of kickstarting my sluggish blogging brain. One of the unfortunate side effects of not blogging for a few weeks is that I get a bunch of ideas rolling around in my head, which, rather than make it easier for me to blog, just makes it harder. I'm hoping that by seeing something posted in January it will take the pressure off and make the next post roll out more smoothly. We shall see.

As cliche as it is, I am going to post a few...well, I hate to call them resolutions, so let's call them, um, goals? That's not much better. But you get the idea. Some things I'd like to try to accomplish for this upcoming year.

1. Read more books. This is kind of a vague goal, and really isn't setting the standard very high since I only read 3 books in 2009 (shameful, I know, especially for a former book worm). So, instead, I'm going to make the rather lofty goal of reading 25 books this year. That's a little fewer than one book every two weeks. I better get on that...

2. Related to goal #1 - make full use of the library. I am a book-buyer from way back. I like to own my books, what can I say? However, if I'm to read 25 books this year, I can't really afford to buy them all, not to mention how difficult it will be to find storage for them in my storage-challenged house. So, the library it is. Plus, I want to encourage the habit in my wee one.

3. Blog more. Ha! Another vague goal. But really, I kind of already started this back in October. At the very least I'd like to stay close to current on Cy's blog. It's been a good six weeks since my last post on that one, and his grandparents are getting antsy. Maybe a post a week is a good goal for that blog, and perhaps two posts a week for this one? Maybe if I just try to average 2 posts a week, that will give me a little more flexibility.

4. Make more of an effort to stay in touch. I kind of suck at this. The more I move the more people with whom I develop friendships, and the more overwhelmed I get at staying connected. I think it's just a matter of putting in more effort, even just in little bursts. Perhaps I should make this one more specific too. Ok, here it is - call or e-mail one friend a day. This might seem a bit over the top, but I think if I keep this in mind it will get me off my butt and help me connect with people who I do actually care about.

I'm quite sure there is more I would like to do, or at least more that I should do. But for now, we'll leave it here. Thanks for indulging in this somewhat stream-of-consciousness style post. I promise to be more articulate in future posts...well, maybe I can't promise that, but at least I'll try.

Flashback Friday: The Great Christmas Baking Fiasco

2009-12-12T00:33:00.000-08:00

I've been doing a lot of holiday baking so far this year. Well, really, I've baked one particular dessert several different times, and I'm not done yet. That dessert is cheesecake. I have a recipe that my mom developed over several years of testing and trying, and I happen to think it is one of the tastiest things I have ever eaten. It has become my holiday staple, and I pretty much make it for any holiday gathering occurring between Thanksgiving and New Years. This year, I made one for Thanksgiving, one for Cy's Blessing celebration, and one for Jason's office holiday party. I am making four for this Tuesday's Relief Society Enrichment Meeting, and I am making at least one for Christmas Eve dinner. All of this cheesecake baking reminds me of the first time I made this recipe all by myself.

It was the year 2005 and it marked Jason's first Christmas in New York. We were engaged and sharing an apartment in the Bronx. We were unable to fly home for Christmas because we had to fly home in January to plan our wedding in April. It was admitedly depressing to not be with any other family, so I wanted to bring some of my family's traditions to our little Bronx Christmas. There are two things that make me think Christmas - homemade cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning and cheesecake for Christmas Dinner. So, never having made either before, I set to make them both on Christmas Eve.

I began with the Cinnamon rolls at about 1:00pm in the afternoon. I mixed all of the ingredients, rolled them up, put them in the pan and left them to rise. And left them. And left them. They didn't seem to be rising the way I thought they should, but I baked them anyway. They came out small and hard, and they smelled oddly of play-dough. I took one out and took a bite and was disgusted to discover that they tasted of play-dough as well! After examining the flour bag, I realized that, not being a regular baker, I was using extremely old flour! I think it had expired like 6 months prior or something. So, I started all over. I don't remember exactly how long the cinnamon rolls take to rise and bake, but it is quite some time. It was at least evening by this point.

I then began my cheesecake. After several phone calls to my mom, I had it all mixed and ready to go. The way her recipe works is that, after making the graham cracker crust, you then make the rich, cream cheese filling. You bake that for about 30 minutes, let it cool for 10 minutes, then put on the sour cream topping and bake for another 10 minutes. I guess with eating dinner and what not, the process took quite some time. When I pulled it out of the oven the first time, I was extremely pleased with the results. Beleive me when I tell you that it was perfect. There was not one single crack, it was smooth, and the perfect consistency. I mixed the sour cream topping, and put it back in the oven. While it baked I took a shower, as I had been baking all day and was tired and dirty.

It was about 1:30am Christmas morning when I went to pull the cheesecake out of the oven for the final time. Oh man, it's hard to talk about even now, four years late. I pulled the cheesecake out, and as I did, the bottom of my spring form pan popped out of the ring, rose into the air (with the cheesecake on top, of course), turned over and landed with a splat on the floor. I believe my response went something like this:

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I then ran into the bedroom and flung myself on the bed in a fit of tears. I had been baking for 12 hours and all I had to show for it was one lousy batch of cinamon rolls! Jason ran in from the living room to see what was wrong, sure I had burnt myself or cut off a limb or something. When he saw the disaster, being the thoughtful guy that he is, he immediately grabbed a camera and snapped a picture.

Yes, my friends, that is what happens when hot cheesecake, which has not yet had time to set, is thrust to the ground by gravity. It really did flip exactly upside down in the air. Kind of amazing, really.

That is the splatter effect up the dishwasher. What you can't see, is that it also splattered clear under the dishwasher.

A close up.

To his credit, Jason sent me to bed and cleaned up the whole mess, after getting photographic evidence, of course. The worst part was that I was going to miss out on my Christmas Cheesecake! Fortunately, our good friend Jean was also unable to go home for Christmas and was planning to join us for ours. I called her first thing Christmas morning and asked if there was anywhere in her neighborhood that was open on Christmas day that might sell cream cheese and sour cream.

Lucky for us, there was, and so I made my second ever cheesecake fewer than 24 hours after making (and killing) the first. Though not quite as perfect as the first, it was still mighty tasty!

Cheesecake #2

Fortunately, I have yet to have a repeat of that disaster; however, I have been permanently scarred. While I am fine to remove the cheesecake from the over after it's first baking, I am so terrified of a repeat performance that I insist that Jason remove it after it's second baking, just to be on the safe side.

On Matters of Sharing our Religion

2009-12-10T12:57:00.000-08:00

This is a post that has been clanging around in my head for quite some time, but was brought to the fore again this past weekend when we had Cyrus blessed at my church. For those of you who are unaware, I converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (commonly known as the Mormon church) about three and a half years ago. Jason did not join the church. I may someday post my conversion story, but not now.

So, in our church, new babies are given a blessing and their names are recorded on church records. It is kind of a similar process to a Christening, I think. Anyway, Jason, being the supportive husband and father that he is, agreed to have Cy blessed. The blessing was performed by a good family friend of ours. We also decided to invite several of our family members, none of whom belong to the church. In the end, we had Jason's dad, grandma, sister and her husband, one uncle and a cousin and my sister.

This was a nerve-wracking process for me, and I'll tell you why. First of all, I think most people will probably agree that discussing religion can be kind of awkward - many people avoid it all together. It becomes even more difficult if your religion is of the somewhat controversial variety - as Mormonism tends to be. However, for most members of the church, their religion is such a significant factor in how they live their lives that is hard to avoid at least mentioning it. And, since many people grow up in the religion, I think that being Mormon becomes a known fact and is not so difficult for people to talk about (if you are of this group, feel free to disagree with me if I am wrong).

For me, I not only did not grow up as a Mormon, but I went through a several-year period where I was vehemently against all organized religion (call it my rebellious college stage). I not only did not want to belong to an organized religion, especially not one as regimented as Mormonism, but I held a pretty negative view of those who did. The more "religious" the religion, the more negative my view. I'm not proud of this judgemental stage in my life, but there it is.

So you can imagine that, when I converted to the church, family and friends who had known me for a long time were quite surprised and even shocked. Some were down right confused. And because of this, I have found it pretty difficult to discuss my religion openly with people I know - whether new friends or old, but especially old. Over the past few years, I have reconnected with a few friends from college - remember, my rebellious, anti-religion days - and when it came out that I had joined the Mormon church, I was met with open-mouthed shock and some definite stammering.

Anyway, back to Sunday. I was nervous about having so many members of Jason's family there. I knew that everyone knew I was Mormon, but no one really talked about it. And I didn't know what their views of the church or of me being a part of it were, either. Add to that the stress that is was Fast and Testimony meeting. For those who don't know, the first Sunday of the month is typically Fast Sunday, where members fast for two meals. Then during Sacrament, instead of hearing talks, the time is opened up for members to share their testimonies - a kind of open-mic for the religious (I hope that's not blasphemous...) Anyway, you kind of never know what you're going to get on Fast Sunday. Sometimes people share really relevant stories and testimonies...other times, not so much. Plus, the more people you have talking, the higher chance someone will say something that could offend a non-member. My anxiety also came from whether or not I would bear my testimony. On the one hand, I wanted to share my testimony because it was a really special day for our family; on the other hand, for someone who doesn't talk about her religion openly to people who aren't of her faith, sharing my testimony in front of so many family members was down-right terrifying.

In the end, I did share my testimony, and I'm glad I did. I'm also glad that so many family members wanted to share in this day, even if it was as part of a religion that they may or may not agree with. No one made any rude comments or remarks (not that I really expected them to) and there were some really good questions after the sacrament meeting about things like the process of the blessing, the meaning of the sacrament, and why we bear testimonies.

Have I totally gotten over my fear of sharing my beliefs? Definitely not. However, I'm hoping that this experience will help me open up a little bit more and not be so worried about how other people will respond. After all, my beliefs are a really big part of who I am and how I live.

Jason, Cyrus and I with our friend Bill (who performed the blessing)

Worth It

2009-12-04T23:58:00.000-08:00

I know today is Friday, but I'm just lacking the energy to write a really quality flashback. Perhaps sometime in the next few weeks I'll figure out how to get back on the Flashback train, but for now, a regular post will have to suffice.

I hate to admit this, but I'm kind of tight-fisted. In our current financial situation, this is actually a pretty good thing, as it helps us buy only what we need, and spend less than we might want to. However, even when we have a little disposable income, I can still be rediculouly cheap, even to the point of not wanting to buy something that we really need. (For example, I sometimes go several years without replacing my bras, something my mom finds so horrifying that she often insists on taking me bra shopping every few years so she can have some peace of mind.) One of the side effects of my cheap ways is that I scrutinize every shopping receipt to figure out where we spent our money, and to make sure that I was charged appropriately.

So this evening, Jason and I went grocery shopping at Winco. The total came out to a little more than I was expecting, so as Jason was bagging the groceries, I did my customary thorough check of the receipt to see if there were any items that cost more than I was expecting. As I scanned, I came across the ground turkey meat. We had purchased two packages of ground turkey meat, each pre-seasoned - one with Italian seasonings and one with taco seasonings. I never buy pre-seasoned meat, but in this case, it was the only ground turkey on sale, and it was selling for $2.18 a package, versus $2.68. Yes, not a huge difference, but one just the same. I needed turkey meat for one of my meals for the week that has an Italian flair, so it wasn't a huge deal to buy the Italian seasoned meat. However, we decided to buy the taco seasoned meat just to have on hand, since it was on sale. (I promise that these details are important.)

So. Back to the receipt. When I got to the ground turkey meat, I noticed two different entries - one was for $2.58 and one was for $2.78 - both more than I what I thought I was paying. I was a little irritated. Again, I realize that this only adds up to one extra dollar spent, but every dollar counts. I felt a bit silly being so nit-picky, but Jason convinced me to go to the customer service counter and inquire as to the difference. I explained that the posted sign said $2.18 but that the receipt rang up differently. As I waited for the woman to go and check the sign, I began to wonder if it was really worth all the effort, for only a dollar. But, it wasn't just a dollar at stake, because if the meat If they hadn't been on sale, we wouldn't have purchased the taco-seasoned meat at all. I also worried that, even though I was sure I had checked the sign three times, maybe I had misread and they were not in fact on sale.

When the woman got back, she confirmed that I was, in fact, correct! The meat department had forgotten to change their tags. I watched while she took the items off, and I figured she would then put them back in at the $2.18 price, then refund me my dollar and I'd be one my way. Imagine my delight when, instead of ringing them up again, she opened the cash register, took out $5.36, and handed it back to me! Apparently, if they get the signs wrong, the first item is free. And, since I had purchased two different products, they were both free! If there is one thing I love more than a sale, it is getting something for free! It really makes my day. And, I was so pleased that my extra 10 minutes had earned me not one dollar, but five!

So there you go. I guess making a stink about a wrong price, even if only wrong by a few cents, can really pay off.

My Cloth Diapering Story: Part 3 - Fuzzibunz Follow Up

2009-12-01T21:54:00.000-08:00

Jason reminded me the other day that I never followed up about our cloth diapering experience after my last post. And, since it had a happy ending, I thought I would share.

As you may remember, I had quite a time finding the invoices, but thanks to the helpful people at Babyworks, we got them all together and finally got the diapers sent out about a week after I figured out that there was a problem. During this time, I had to use disposables, which I just really didn't like.

It took the diapers about five days or so to get to Fuzzibunz, but fortunately their turn-around time was only about two days. Then it took another four or five days to get them back to us. I was a little nervous about what I would find. On the Fuzzibunz website, it states clearly that if your diapers are outside of the warranty period, you will be sent factory seconds. I understand this with one or two faulty diapers, but not with all 24. I was worried about that. Also, when I called about sending in the diapers, I was told to send only the main diaper, and not the inserts (remember, the diapers came with two inserts). I figured I would just get the diaper shells back as well. Well, when I opened the box, it was to find 24 brand new diapers, in their regular packaging, with two more inserts! That's right, I now have four total inserts per diaper. Probably more than I'll need, but nice just the same. I also found two packages of super soft, thick cloths. They seem too big to be wipes and too small to be burp cloths, but they are really nice and I love them. Apparently, they were an added bonus for my trouble!

We have had those diapers back for over a month and have not had a single leaking issue. Also, while using the disposable diapers, I had several poop blowouts up the back of the diaper. On at least one occassion this required me to not only change Cy's entire outfit and the changing pad cover, but also to bath him, as I managed to spread poop all over his body and head as I took off his clothes. This scenario has NEVER happened with the cloth diapers. I've only had one or two blowouts and they were out the legs, which is much more manageable. I decided that I would take leaking urine over widespread poop any day.

So there you have it. I love my cloth diapers. I love Fuzzibunz, and I feel that I can recommend them. Their customer service was stellar, and that can be a hard thing to find. Plus, their product is genius!

Step gone bad

2009-11-24T14:32:00.000-08:00

Do you ever just feel old? Last night, I felt old. And out of shape. And uncoordinated. And kind of foolish. Last night, I went to a step aerobic class at the community center. (You know the kind, where you have that cool plastic step and you do all kinds of fancy moves over, around and next to the step). Believe it or not, this was not my first step class. Not that I'm a seasoned veteran or anything, but I actually attended a class on Saturday. By some stroke of luck, the instructor on Saturday was a sub, and since she didn't know what kinds of steps the class knew, she kept it simple. It was perfect for me. I was able to pick up on most of the steps on the first try, and if not on the first try, then very shortly thereafter. I got a great workout and it was pretty fun. Based on that experience, I decided to go again last night.

Last night was different. The instructor was not a sub and he did not keep it simple. The steps were incredibly complex, and had specific names. And they were set to very fast music. So he would call out a step, or a series of steps as he did them very quickly and I tried to keep track of where his feet went and how. Of course, half of the routines he did had us turning around, so I would start the routine and be doing all right, but then would turn around and wouldn't know what I was doing anymore! As if that wasn't bad enough, apparently each step has an advanced variation that you can do should you be able to do the basic without tripping over yourself. (By the way, I will likely never be coordinated enough to master the advance variations.) Well, the instructor almost always did the advanced variation without explaining that there was a simpler way to do it. I only realized the simpler way when I saw some others in the class doing it, and this was after I nearly killed myself trying to do the advanced step.

There were several points throughout the class when I just stood still, with a bewildered expression on my face. At some moments I found this comical. I think I even laughed out loud, and may have uttered the phrase "Are you kidding me?" At other moments I felt disheartened and frustrated, and came close to tears at least twice. With the range of emotions I felt in just a short hour, you'd think I was pregnant! (I'm not, by the way.) By the end of the class, I had kind of figured out some of the step routines, but by then I was so tired that my brain and body did not always want to cooperate.

I still got a great workout, and I will probably go back again on Wednesday. But the more I think about the class, the more annoyed I am, and here's why. The instructor could very clearly see that I was struggling - it was pretty obvious, after all. Why didn't he stop and take just one minute to show me the steps? Now, this may seem unreasonable to some, particularly any of you who are in the advanced step category (are there any you out there?) But there are three conditions that I think make this quite a reasonable request.

First of all, there were only 7 total people in the class, and I was the only one struggling. It t not have detracted from the rest of the class, and in fact, probably would have helped them as they wouldn't have been distracted by me fumbling and bumbling about. If the class had been 20 or so, and I was the only one struggling, then I could understand just letting me figure it out on my own.

Second of all, there is no beginner's class. The community center only offers two step classes, and both are in the same category. Does that mean that since I haven't done step before, I shouldn't be able to go? I don't think so. If they don't offer a beginners class, then, in my opinion, the instructors should be more helpful to those of us who are, clearly, beginners.

Finally, this is, after all, a community center - not some fancy, schmancy, high-end gym or athletic club. The community center clearly tries to be acessible to everyone, so by extension, I think that their fitness classes should also be accessible to everyone, particularly if they have only one level, as mentioned above.

I hope that, on Wednesday, I can pick up the steps a little bit better. I may also just outright ask the instructor to help me out - I do have some agency in this whole process. What do you think? Am I being unreasonable? Should I have expected some help, or not? Or, should I have not even gone to the class in the first place since I couldn't keep up?

Praise for ... a Bathroom?

2009-11-21T23:35:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week, Jason and I managed to secure a scholarship for an annual membership to the Southwest Community Center, part of the Portland Parks and Rec network. I did water aerobics there for the three months or so of my pregnancy and was really impressed with the facility. When Jason and I decided it was time to really commit to a healthy lifestyle, but also knew that we couldn't afford a gym membership, we were thrilled to discover that the community center gave scholarships. We applied, and were approved, and just in the past week Jason has attended four times (twice on one day!)

Now, Jason was excited for his workouts, but was even more excited when he realized that we could take Cy to Family Swim. Bathtime is one of the best times of our day, and it just seemed a natural progression to get Cy in a pool. In fact, Jason has been planning for and talking about "the big event" all week. He even had me drive across town to buy a pair of reusable swim diapers so that the three of us could take advantage of the family swim today!

After a few hiccups in our plan (including a baby who not only slept in until 9am, but then took an unprecedented 3 hour nap at 11 - why does this only happen on days when I plan for his "regular" nap schedule?)...where was I? Oh yeah, so once we finally got ourselves out the door, we realized that getting the three of us changed and into, and back out of, the pool was going to take some maneuvering. We had some elaborate plans worked out until I remembered that I had seen family changing rooms at the community center. I had never been inside them before, though, so I wasn't sure how helpful they would be. I pictured maybe just a basic bathroom with a changing table, and figured we would still have to go shower in the main locker rooms.

Let me just say, of all the things that have impressed me about this community center (and there are a lot), the family changing rooms may just top the list! Each room has a sink and a toilet, a changing table, a long bench and - get this - a shower! And the room itself is huge - plenty of room for several children. It was easy, then, for both Jason and I to take Cy into the changing room together, allowing us to trade off holding him and dressing him while we got ourselves dressed. It made the whole process so much easier and more enjoyable than it could have been. Plus, there are a total of four family changing rooms!

I had also been thinking about signing Cy and me up for Parent/child swim classes in January, but was concerned about the whole changing/drying off process, especially since I would be by myself. Seeing the family changing rooms has eased my worries and now I'm even more excited about the prospect.

I have to know - is this whole family changing room thing common? Am I just a newbie mom who didn't realize how accomodating some places would be? Because in my limited experience, most places seem the opposite of accommodating. Sometimes I almost feel bad for having a baby in tow. In fact, I've been surprised by the number of places that have zero space to change babies - and don't get me started on the lack of changing tables in men's restrooms! And yet, whoever designed the community center really thought ahead to the needs of families, and made the swimming experience completely accessible, and, dare I say, easy. I was already impressed - now I'm downright in love! (On a related note, Washington Square does have its own extraordinary family restroom, complete with a miniature toilet right next to the big person's toilet. I don't think I've ever thought of a toilet as cute until I saw that one. It makes me excited for the day Cy can use a toilet, and I think we may go to the mall just so we can use that one!)

So, needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), we will be frequenting the family swim time and most definitely taking full advantage of these fantastic changing rooms!

Flashback Friday: Jager's Accidental Overdose

2009-11-20T21:35:00.000-08:00

I've managed to let the past two Fridays slip by with nary a Flashback, and I just couldn't let it happen again! So, here is another Jager story for you. As you may remember, Jager finds just about everything edible. Her credits include chapstick, an unused pregnancy test, clorox wipes, and 20 PB&J sandwiches. However, her most infamous - not to mention most dangerous and expensive - incident occurred two years ago on this, the Friday before Thanksgiving.

On that Friday, Jason and I had gone out to dinner after work. We arrived home to pools of dog vomit all over the hallway and living room. It was like a crime scene unfolding before our eyes. With each step we saw another, and another pool of vomit. We quickly realized that she had gotten into something, so we began scouring the house for evidence. I don't remember who discovered it, but one of us got to the bedroom at the back of the house first, and there it was - an empty bottle of Ibuprofen. It was a large bottle of 200mg gel caps, one of the 80 count ones and it had been a little over half full when we left that morning. We figured that she had consumed somewhere around 50 caplets - a total of 10,000 mg of Ibuprofen. Yikes.

We called animal poison control and were told to monitor her for stomach ulcers and kidney failure. At first she seemed her usual, peppy self, but by Sunday morning, she refused to go outside, would hardly leave our bed and was peeing all over the house. We did some research on-line and found out that Malox could help dogs with potential stomach ulcers, so we went and got some. And here's the funny part - our dog, who eats literally everything, balked at the Malox. She clamped her lips closed, and when we forcefully opened them and poured in the MAlox, she shoved her tongue to the roof of her mouth and forced it back out again, spitting out showers of chalky, white Malox. Then she ran away with her tail between her legs. To this day, shake a bottle of Malox in front of this dog and she runs for the hills. And they say dogs have no memory.

Anyway, we finally took her to the vet on Monday morning. Before we set out, we determined that she had a budget of $500 - that's all we could afford to pay. When the vet examined her he found that she had extreme kidney failure and bleeding stomach ulcers. And, even though she had been drinking water vociferously, she was severely dehydrated because the ulcers kept her stomach from absorbing the water she drank. He admitted her overnight and gave her IV fluids and antibiotics. The total - $580. Ok, we figured, we can handle that.

The next day, however, the vet called back to say that she could not keep food down and would therefore have to stay another few days - probably until Thursday, but since that was Thanksgiving and they were closed, they would keep her until Friday but not charge us the extra day. The total for the remaining four days - $500. Well, here's the thing. At this point, we had already invested over $500 into our dog. So if we brought her home early, we had the possibility of losing not only our dog, but also our $500! So, we dug deep and paid the additional $500.

Yep, that's right, we spent over a $1000 on our dog - we are those people. But the thing is, she is part of our family, and at the time, we had no children. We realized then, though, that if we had had children, we would not have been able to make that choice. Lucky for her, we could, and we did, and she has now made a full recovery (though her bladder control was never quite the same).

Fortunately, we've since learned our lesson. We do a "Jager check" every time we leave the house, just to be sure that we haven't left anything tempting. And we've learned to expand our definition of what is edible, because with a dog like Jager, you just never know.

...And We're Back!

2009-11-11T22:17:00.000-08:00

Well, I really did think that I would maintain a little more momentum after finishing NaBloPoMo, but then we went to Kansas for a wedding...which is actually one of the main reasons why I did NaBloPoMo in October instead of November. So, we have returned from our week away, and as entry back into the blogging world, I thought I would share a few little tidbits I discovered while in Kansas:

1. I love weddings. I don't know if it's going to more weddings or simply getting older, but each wedding I attend (particularly those for people to whom I am close) I get more emotional than I did at the previous wedding. Maybe weddings remind me of my own wedding, or maybe I just love the whole sentiment. This wedding was a little bitter-sweet, as it was the last of the Wells siblings' weddings. There are no weddings looming in our future and this makes me sad. However, Jason's sister Kelly looked beautiful and the wedding was quite the party!

The happy couple and their wedding party.

2. I play a (very distant) second fiddle to my child. On several occasions, various family members, on seeing us for the first time on this trip, ran excitedly toward us and exuberantly greeted Cy. Then, only after smiling and cooing at him, they noticed either me or Jason and then said hi, generally as an after-thought. I would be offended except that this happened so often that I must simply take it as a compliment that we made a baby too cute for our own good.

3. Babies are cute and welcome almost everywhere. A wedding party-bus (or trolley, in this case) is not one of them...Yes, this was a little lapse in judgment on Jason's and my part. Jason was in the wedding party, and after the ceremony, the wedding party boarded the trolley/party bus to go take some more pictures around Kansas city before the reception. At the last minute, myself and a few other spouses were invited on. Without thinking, Jason and I agreed and Cy and I boarded the trolley...Of course, babies need to eat, and they don't often want to wait for the 1.5 hour party-bus ride to do so. However, a bunch of unmarried young folks don't necessarily want to see a baby nursed on their party bus. Nor do they want to hear said baby screaming at the top of his lungs when he has to wait to eat. Add to that the beer bong and bawdy drinking songs, and well, I think I just earned the "worst-parent-of-the-year" award...

Cyrus melting...

Yes, that is a beer bong. Don't ask me, I'm not nearly cool enough to get it!

4. Snoring is almost never cute. Unless it is a baby doing the snoring. Then it is extremely cute. And must be recorded. And shared with everyone we see the following day. I would share this video with you, except that I can't figure out how to upload a video with the new editor, so I guess we will save that for another day. If you do know how, please share!

5. Due to aforementioned cold, I now realize that my child is never allowed to have anything worse than a low fever and mild congestion. This very minor illness ripped my heart out and brought tears to my eyes. Anything even remotely more severe will likely kill me.

6. A sick and slightly cranky baby is not the best traveling companion. Unless you are flying a nearly full Southwest flight and wish to have an empty seat in your row. Then, a cranky, sick baby may be just the ticket.

Self-esteem rising...only to fall again

2009-11-03T21:17:00.000-08:00

I'm going to go out on a limb here and generalize that those who blog do so with the anticipation and hope that others will read their writing. I will go even further to say that those of us who leave our blogs open hope that strangers may also read and find interesting the things that we write. Even if this isn't true for other bloggers, it is for me, even if I wasn't willing to admit it right away. Blogger has two easy ways for me to know if others are reading my blog: the follower gadget and comments at the end of posts. So far I have three followers (one of which is my mom) and I appreciate them all. And, I think around 8 or 9 people have commented on my blog overall. Not bad, considering that this blog has really only been active for a month.

Now, I will admit that I've decided that I will feel somewhat successful as a blogger when I have a stranger either comment on my blog or become a follower. So, imagine my delight when I opened my e-mail a few days ago and saw a comment from a person I did not know! My confidence sky-rocketed and I felt ever so slightly proud of myself. It was on my post about jogging strollers, which I did think was a pretty interesting post, if I do say so myself. And then I opened the e-mail to read the comment and saw this:

"Thanks for sharing that! Nice post. I just glanced through it. "

It was followed by a link to buy strollers.

So. Not only did my one stranger commenter only "glance" through my post, but he then used the comment section to advertise! Not exactly what I had in mind...

Oh well, I guess I haven't quite reached stranger-commenting-worthy status yet, after all. It's a good thing that I don't really base my self-esteem on the comments on my blog or that could have been a real doozy!

Reflections on NaBloPoMo

2009-11-01T19:32:00.000-08:00

Here it is, November 1, and I no longer "have" to write a daily blog post - and yet, here I am, still writing a post. Even as I plopped down on my couch this evening and proudly asked Jason "Guess what I don't have to do tonight?" I had three blog post ideas running around in my head. So, I guess NaBloPoMo served it's purpose. Here are some other things that occurred as a result of writing 31 posts in 31 days:

1. I now think about things from a blogging perspective. At the beginning of the month, I really had to push myself to come up with something to write about every single day. As I've already mentioned, small occurrences in my daily life now practically write themselves into posts!

2. I've realized that I really enjoy the idea of a blogging community. I've learned new things or gotten new perspectives from the comments people have left on my posts, and that is an unexpected positive side-effect.

3. Things I thought might not be interesting sparked thoughts in other people. Some of the posts that I did simply as a way to make sure that I wrote a post every day garnered the most comments, or at least prompted people to ask questions that will lead to other posts.

4. I've gotten over some of my perfectionism and am OK to post something even if I can't weave my words into the work of art that I'd like to.

5. I've enjoyed blogging so much so that I started a second blog for Cyrus.

6. I had a really good excuse to finally write Cyrus' birth story - something I'd been wanting to do for three months!

7. Perhaps one of the greatest things is that I now have almost 40 posts for the year of 2009! That averages out to nearly 4 posts a month for January through October. Of course, 31 of those happened in October...

It helped having Kristen plugging away right beside me. And, now I get to sit back and relax for the month of November and read Bridget's blog as she completes NaBloPoMo this month. I will say that this was a tougher challenge than I thought it would be and yet one that I'm proud to have accomplished. Now we'll just have to see how long I can maintain this momentum!

Procrastination, Halloween style

2009-10-31T23:14:00.000-07:00

So Jason and I decided to get all festive and dress up for Halloween this year, since we had a couple of parties this weekend. After my bout with costume perfectionism, we finally came up with a couple of decent, if not original, costume ideas. Since Cyrus already had a monkey costume, courtesy of one of his grandmothers, we decided that Jason would be a zoo keeper and I would be the Wicked Witch of the East (or is it West, I can never remember). You know, the one from the Wizard of Oz. Yes, I realize that it's a bit cheesy to coordinate our costumes with our child's but this way he could serve as an accessory to both of us - and really, isn't that what children are for, to accessorize their parents? Anyway, we figured when Jason held him he'd just be a regular monkey, and when I held him he could be a flying monkey. (Unfortunately, people at both of our parties mistook his costume for a bear...)

After deciding on our costumes, we then needed to procure the appropriate attire for a reasonable cost. Unfortunately, we didn't choose our costume ideas until Wednesday. Finally, on Friday, Jason stopped by a Value Village on the way home from work and found himself a safari shirt and a hat that would kind of pass as a safari hat. He found me a witch's hat, though it was a child's hat and looked a bit stupid. We still wanted some green face paint and maybe a witch's cloak for me, and maybe a better safari hat for Jason, so when he got home we head out to find said items. We tried a couple of Fred Meyers and even a dollar store, and then finally happened upon a Party City. We walked in, all hopeful in our naivete, only to find that they were practically wiped out! The shelves were literally bear, the hat selection was sparse, and when I tried to find a witch's costume, all they had were "sexy witches" - you know, really short skirts, tight shirts, fishnet stalkings - not really an Amber-style costume. Plus, they wanted $35 for it! The accessory section was all cleaned out too - a few child-sized hats, no adult hats, and no green face paint.

I looked at Jason and said "Well, I guess this is what we get for waiting until the day before Halloween!" It was kind of depressing, really. I mean, granted, Halloween stuff has been out since the beginning of September, but I guess I just didn't think that stores would be that wiped out.

In the end, we bought a little witch's broom, and I pieced together a few random items of black clothing and plopped my child's witch's hat on my head. Not the type of costume a perfectionist prefers, but I suppose it got the job done. And, as Jason pointed out, it's a good thing we started trying to dress up when Cy is still too young to care, because we can consider this year a trial run. Next year, maybe we'll put some real thought and effort it, and maybe we'll start planning more than two days in advance...maybe.

Cyrus as a zoo monkey with the zoo keeper...

Cyrus as a Flying Monkey with the Wicked Witch...

Cyrus worn out after too much Halloween...

Flashback Friday: The Doggy Garbage Disposal

2009-10-30T21:42:00.000-07:00

Hmm, I guess this is "post about my animals" week here at the Wells Family, because this Flashback Friday is about the exploits of my dog Jager. Jager is a mix of several breads, but her primary breads are Lab and Rhodesian Ridgeback. She is high energy, extremely friendly (some might even call her aggressively friendly) and more or less a doggy version of a vacuum. This dog eats anything and everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING. I've often stared in wonder at dogs who pick at their food, leaving some for later. This is not my dog. She wolfs her food down the moment it is set in front of her, and no amount seems to be enough. She also has a non-discriminating palate - she has consumed such things as chapstick, Clorox wipes, and even a pregnancy test (unused). But this post is about one particularly absurd instance of consumption.

It occurred in the summer of 2006 while Jason and I were working at camp. Jager was living there with us, and my general routine was to walk her from our tent up to my office where I fed her and left her for the morning. On one particularly hectic morning, I took her up to the office and didn't have a chance to feed her right away. What I didn't realize at the time was that our bag lunch from the day before was still in the office. About twice a week we got bag lunches (or as we called them, crate lunches since they were served in milk crates). These usually consisted of some carrot sticks, a few apples, and an entire bread sleeve full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. These were not ordinary bread sleeves - no, they were the sleeves that housed institutional-sized loaves of bread, usually around 35 slices. So a full sleeve of PB&J sandwiches included about 20. Now, this was also the end of the summer and we could hardly bear the sight of a PB&J, much less eat one. (Imagine if you had been served PB&J on cheap, dry, wheat bread twice a week all summer long.) So that sleeve from the previous day's lunch was pretty much untouched, and contained the full 20 sandwiches.

You can probably see where this is going. When I returned to the office, I fed Jager and was dumbfounded when she barely even picked at her food. Then I saw the crate and what was left of the sandwiches. All but two were gone - eaten in their entirety. Jager was moping around and licking her lips, so I shook my head at her and gave her some water. She finished that and wanted more, so I gave it to her. In my naivete, I probably gave her five or six bowls of water, not realizing that I was only compounding the situation. Jason had been off running some errands, and by the time he returned, Jager's poor belly was twice it's normal size. He, knowing much more about the dangers that can befall the overeating dog, immediately fear bloat (a condition in which a dog's stomach turns over on itself) and rushed her to the vet's.

By now, we're both worried that she has this awful condition that costs $1,000s to reverse and isn't even guaranteed. We knew we didn't have the money for the procedure, so I think we were both preparing ourselves that we may be saying goodbye to our beloved dog.

As it turned out, she did not have bloat, which an x-ray confirmed. The vet did, however, need to clear her stomach, so they induced vomiting. Upon her arrival at the vet's she weighed in at 93 lbs. After she vomited, she weighed 74 lbs - that's right, she consumed 19 lbs of PB&J and water. Fortunately, the x-ray and vomit-inducing medicine only cost about $200 - a far more affordable price than we had anticipated.

For a while, this was Jager's claim to fame - she was the dog who ate 18 PB&J sandwiches. But don't worry, because a few years later, she topped it. That's a story for another day, however.

Six Reasons I love Fall

2009-10-29T21:51:00.000-07:00

Fall is pretty much my favorite time of year. With the exception of Los Angeles, I've loved Fall in every city I've lived in (there just isn't much difference between seasons in LA, I'm afraid - it's just hot and hotter). In New York, Fall was especially amazing, and I thought I would really miss that when we left. But I have to say, Fall in Portland is pretty spectacular too. Here are some things I love about Fall:

1. The perfect in between. I hate being hot, and I'm not crazy about being super cold either. Fall weather is kind of that perfect in between temperature, where I have to wear a sweater or long sleeves to go outside, but I also don't feel like whimpering every time I step out my door. Plus, I love that some days are bright and sunny and others are dreary and rainy, some days are good for being outside and some are good for cozying up inside.

2. Sweaters and Jeans. Enough said.

3. The food. Pumpkin pie, hot chocolate and warm apple cider, squash, casseroles, soups, chili - pretty much all of my favorite foods are popular or available during the fall, and that makes me smile.

4. Fall colors. I know it's cliche to love the colors of the leaves as they change, but I do. I think it's interesting that the vibrancy of fall is followed by a kind of bleakness with winter - almost like mother nature is trying to give us one last push of optimism before taking it all away for a season.

5. Thanksgiving. Yep, it's my favorite holiday. Nothing but food and family, because really, what more do you need? Fall signals that Thanksgiving is on it's way, and I get pretty excited about that. Of course, once Thanksgiving comes and goes, then it starts to feel like winter, and I mourn the passing of Fall just a little.

6. The smell. I don't know what it is, but I love the way the air smells in the fall. It even smelled good in New York, which is a hard thing for air to do in NY.

Ahh, Fall...

A Costume Conundrum

2009-10-28T21:29:00.000-07:00

As a kid, I loved Halloween. I looked forward to trick or treating and I planned my costume months in advance. Fortunately, my mom is an extremely creative woman and a talented seamstress, and she always willingly (or at least, that's how I remember it) spent hours creating whatever costume I came up with - a court jester, a senorita, a spider, etc. But I think some time in high school I stopped dressing up and I stopped looking forward to Halloween. It's become a kind of non-holiday for me. I'm honestly kind of envious of those people who still love dressing up and who still put tons of effort into coming up with and executing creative costume ideas, but I'm just not one of those people. And I've pretty much been fine with it, until now. Because now I have a child.

I hadn't really thought about it until recently, but I've decided that I want to be one of those parents who participates enthusiastically in things, and doesn't just watch from the sidelines. And this includes the spectacle of dressing up for Halloween.

I realize that my child is very young, too young in fact to understand or care about Halloween, and certainly too young to know whether or not his mom is enthusiastically participating in the festivities. But this year seems like a good year to start participating because, one, there will be pictures, and two, Jason and I are attending a few Halloween shindigs where costumes are strongly encouraged. So what the heck.

However, there is a very good reason why I haven't participated in Halloween costuming for the last several years. Somewhere along the way, I've lost my sense of creativity when it comes to those kinds of things. I just can't seem to come up with an interesting, creative costume for myself that can be made (as I believe the best costumes are) and that I haven't already seen a million times. So now I'm caught in the perfectionist's web: Do I let my desire to participate in Halloween outweigh my desire to have a unique, creative costume, or do I simply throw my hands up that I can't come up with the latter, and therefore forgo it all together?

Now, you might ask if this whole thing applies to Cyrus's costume too, since after all, he is too young to choose his own costume, which means I must do it for him. Fortunately, I've been let off the hook this year, as one of his many grandmothers found and purchased an extremely cute monkey costume for him. So he is set. But, this creates another whole dilemma - that of whether or not to try to coordinate my costume with his. And, on top of all of it, as you may all realize, Halloween is just a few short days away, which means that whatever I decide had better happen quickly or else I'll have no time to pull it off.

What's your opinion? Do you dress up for Halloween? Do you try to coordinate your costume with your child's? Do you go store-bought or handmade, and how much time and effort do you put in?

In Pursuit of a Jogging Stroller

2009-10-27T20:44:00.000-07:00

When Jason and I were preparing for Cyrus's arrival, I did copious amounts of research on all items baby-related. I spent hours pouring over my Baby Bargains book (absolutely indespensible if you are preparing for a baby, in my humble opinion) and spent days and days reading reviews on the Babies R Us website before completing my registry. One of the items that I found most overwhelming was the stroller. There were just so many choices, and such a huge range of prices. Jason and I spent one evening at Babies R US trying out strollers, and by the end, I was exhausted and confused. I decided to take the advice of the Baby Bargains book and just buy a snap-on frame for our carseat for a mere $60. It seemed to be a cheap, short-term solution that would get me through the first several months until I figured out what I wanted and needed.

I have to say, I'm glad I took this route. As it turns out, what I want is a jogging stroller, and I definitley didn't anticipate that all those months ago. While I used to be an avid runner (that's a story for another time), I haven't run consistently for the past two or three years. And, while I figured that I would probably take up running again at some point, I didn't figure that that time would come shortly after giving birth. However, seeing as how the baby weight has been taking it's sweet time to depart from my body, and the time and money for a gym membership isn't really in the cards for me at the moment, I have started going on daily walks with Cyrus through our neighborhood. It is a rather old neighborhood with very few sidewalks, lots of gravel roads, many, many hills and a little park with a 1/4 mile walking path. The hills have provided some good cardio workouts, but, I guess "once a runner always a runner", because that 1/4 mile walking path was just begging for me to start running it. And I have been. For the past five weeks or so I have gone on a 40 minute speed-walk 4-5 days a week, and have built up to running about a 1/2 mile within that walk.

I've realized pretty quickly that my little snap-on frame stroller just isn't cutting it. It's probably not the safest thing to be jogging with, or even speed-walking over gravelly roads with, and I'm pretty sure I'm giving it undue wear and tear in the process. Well, as luck would have it, right about the time that I started walking daily, a friend invited me to a Baby Boot Camp class (stroller fitness) and let me borrow her jogging stroller. It was one of these:

That's a Bob Revolution. It's pretty much top of the line. I fell in love. Then I saw the price...$399! Yikes. Remember how I can't really afford a gym membership? Well, then I really can't afford nearly $400 for a stroller! So I started shopping around, both used and new, and found that I could get a decent used jogging stroller for around $45, and a decent new one for about $150 or so. (I could even buy a used Bob Sport Utility, which sells for $300 new, for around $100.) However, most of these strollers had fixed front wheels - good for jogging, bad for everything else.

In the meantime, I realized a couple of things. First of all, I'm kind of a cheapskate. I knew at some point that I was going to have to buy a second stroller, and I knew that it would probably cost around $150-$200. But that was just for one stroller. I never planned to buy more than one additional stroller (after all, I have one already). So to buy one stroller that can only be used for jogging and then buy another stroller for everything else seems both unaffordable and impractical, especially since I'm not planning to train for any major running event anytime soon. Second of all, we plan to have more children, and probably at least one of those will arrive while Cy is still using a stroller, which means that at some point, I'll need a double stroller. And, if I keep jogging, I'll need a double jogging stroller too. So even if I could afford a Bob stroller, I just can't bear the thought of spending that much money when I'm going to have to buy another one in a few years.

So, with all that in mind, I had two choices: I could either buy a jogging stroller that can function in every day life as well, or I can forgo the jogging stroller and just buy an all-purpose stroller. I opted for choice #1. I realized that I would need a jogging stroller that has front wheel that can both swivel for maneuverability, and lock in place for more stable jogging. (By the way, that would have been the Bob Revolution, but again - money!) After doing some research, I found this stroller:

This is an Instep Safari, and it costs about $170 new. While not the top of the line, it's rated pretty well overall, and is far more affordable. However, still looking for a deal, I figured I'd try to find it used before I shelled out all that hard-earned cash. In fact, I have been scanning craigslist every day for the past month looking for this stroller. It is nowhere to be found. Perhaps it is too new, or perhaps it is just that good, but no one is selling. So then I went on Amazon.com, and found it for $135. Sweet! However, since I had never seen this stroller in person, or used it, and since I knew I'd be comparing it to my Bob experience, I figured I should give it a test run in person. So I went to Instep's website and found several places listed that supposedly sell this model. Easy enough, right? Wrong. No store seems to stock this stroller in the actual store - you can only buy it online! The one exception was Fred Meyer, but there it was all boxed up and not available to test run. I've probably been to half a dozen stores, and called at least a dozen more, and it just doesn't seem to exist in real life.

So here I sit. I desperately want my new jogging stroller, preferably before I destroy my current stroller. But I am nervous about purchasing it online in case I don't like it and it is a hassle to return. So in the meantime, I will keep searching for this stroller and keep praying that my stroller lasts just a little longer.

One of Those Days

2009-10-26T21:43:00.001-07:00

The day started out all right. Cy slept till 8:00am, went down fairly easily for a nap at 10:00am, and then slept for 2 full hours, which doesn't always happen. Upon waking up he was all cuddly for a few minutes, until he pooped a huge poop, the magnitude of which I did not realize until I went to change his diaper. As I changed it, I realized that it had exploded up his back and all over his onesie. Of course, I realized this after poop got all over the changing pad cover to the point that it began spreading from the changing pad cover all over his arms and legs. Then, as I attempted to remove said onesie from his body, I further spread poop all over his back and head. Admitting defeat, I wrapped him in a blanket and gave him a quick bath, then removed the changing pad cover, all one-handed.

Then it was time for nap #2, which I falsely assumed would go as well as nap #1. Instead, he woke up screaming after 45 minutes and did not stop screaming, even while I held and rocked him until I fed him (though I'm sure he wasn't hungry). I tried putting him down for another nap, at which point he continued to scream until I picked him up and held him.

Of course, today was a day when I had lots of tasks planned - unpacking from our trip, giving the house a good cleaning that it desperately needed, installing Peachtree Accounting software so that I can do accounting for my dad's business, etc. I manged to get that last one done, but none of the others. As I sat at my desk holding Cy so that he wouldn't scream, I was feeling pretty proud of myself for getting at least one thing accomplished. Then I backed up my chair and heard a crunch. I turned around and saw this:

I wonder if killing the CD counteracts the fact that I accomplished something on my list...

A Tribute to the Low Man (or Woman?) on the Totem Pole

2009-10-25T22:33:00.001-07:00

In our house, there exists a kind of hierarchy of priorities when it comes to those who can't take care of themselves. At the top, of course, is Cyrus. I don't even really think I need to go into detail as to why - he is, after all, our child. Next comes our dog, Jager. Before Cy was born, she took top priority. (Some time, I'll tell you just how much of a priority she was as illustrated by her $1,000 doggy hospital visit - that's another story though). And then, at the very bottom, as a sort of afterthought, is our cat. Even her name suggests little attention or care - we simply call her "Cat". Hers is a story of accidental ownership.

Jager was adopted by Jason the day I left for New York, and she moved with him across the country (and back again, come to think of it). Cyrus was painstakingly planned and tried for. The cat, on the other hand, was discovered by me one December night when I was walking Jager through our Bronx neighborhood. It was snowing and she was huddling in a box. I didn't even rescue her the first time I saw her. I went back home with Jager, and then told Jason about her over dinner after he got home. I suggested we go back out to see if she was all right. We both knew, of course, that if the cat was still there we would be bringing her inside - neither of us is so heartless as to leave a cat outside in the snow. Well, she was there all right and so we brought her in. She was completely emaciated, and most definitely wouldn't have survived the night. She was so weak she couldn't walk. We fed her and made a little bed for her in a box, and then the next morning Jason set to work finding her a shelter. He called nearly every shelter in the NY-metropolitan area. Each shelter's response was the same - "Oh, you say she's inside your house? Well, congratulations on your new pet." The shelters were so overrun that they wouldn't accept an animal that had been taken in. We tried for two weeks to find her a home, and then finally accepted the fact that we had a new cat. That's how she got her name. We didn't want to name her officially when we thought we were getting rid of her so we just kept referring to her as "the cat". By the time we finally decided to keep her, the name had stuck and there it was - "Cat".

Now, some cats are quite fun and endearing...but this one is a little odd. She isn't skittish, by any means, but she can be territorial of spaces and extremely fickle - one minute she loves you and is purring loudly, and the next minute she's ripping your hand to shreds. I still kind of like her, but I'm a cat person - Jason merely tolerates her, on some days more than others. She claws the furniture and can be extremely needy in the most annoying way. She wasn't even supposed to make the cross country trip, but we couldn't find her a home with someone we knew and I just couldn't turn her out on the streets. So she still belongs to us, but kind of by default.

However, despite all of this, she has some cute moments. I realized today that I don't think I've mentioned her on this blog except for as part of our retched subletter experience. Obviously Cyrus is going to get more press time than either of our animals, but Jager at least has a label. So, I thought it might be time to give the cat a little attention, even if only via my blog. One of her few endearing qualities is that she creates some fantastic photo-ops just by chance. Here are some of our more amusing pictures of the cat:

Cat doing Su Doku

For some reason, nothing is as enticing to her as a pile of freshly folded laundry. Now, I didn't place those items on top of her - they were neatly stacked. She wedged herself underneath them for some reason.

Though I think most cats like bags, this one has an obsession with them. She seems to find it her personal responsibility to investigate any bag lying around, and sometimes she finds herself caught up in it. She dragged this bag all over the kitchen for about 20 minutes one night.

We had this bag of plastic bags hanging in our closet in the Bronx so that we could grab a plastic bag for Jager's walks. The cat decided that it made a nice bed. You can't tell in the picture, but it is suspended about four feet off of the ground.

Apparently we didn't feed her fast enough, because she sought out the food herself.

Maybe if she keeps doing cute things, we'll keep her a little longer.

More Thoughts on Plane Travel

2009-10-24T21:50:00.001-07:00

Cy and I flew home from Denver today, and I can't help feeling just a little proud of myself for having completed a round-trip flight with him by myself. Aside from the occasional rude passenger on the way there, and an unexplained 10 minute screaming fit as we boarded the plane on the way home, I actually feel that the whole experience went pretty well. I can admit now, I was kind of terrified that I would explode with anxiety over the whole thing. I had visions of 2.5 hours of a screaming child, a seat-mate who overflowed into my seat, rude comments about breastfeeding, unsympathetic airline workers, etc. I think a few things helped:

1. I used a carrier with Cy and just checked our carseat and stroller at the ticket counter. I know that you can gate-check those items, but our stroller situation is really just a snap-in frame for our carseat. I realized pretty quickly that at security I would have to remove Cy, take the carseat off of the frame, fold up the frame and put both through the x-ray machine, and then do the whole thing in reverse, all while holding Cyrus. This just didn't seem practical to me. By using the carrier, I was hands free and the security part was essentially seamless. Also, the carrier worked great when Cy fell asleep during the flight and I wanted my hands for drinking, or eating, or doing a Su Doku puzzle.

2. Breastfeeding. I toyed with just bringing expressed breast milk in bottles for the flight, thinking it would be easier, but I'm glad I didn't. Cyrus doesn't just nurse for food, he nurses for comfort. I was able to to nurse him when he got cranky, and basically just put him to sleep. I think this made the whole thing more enjoyable for both of us. Plus, it was a lot easier than I thought it would be to nurse him on the plane. He is still small enough, I supposed, that he doesn't really encroach on the seat next to ours.

3. I took advantage of pre-boarding. I know this seems like a no-brainer, but I saw a woman with a baby get on with the rest of the cattle today, and all I could think was, Why? Having a few moments to get the necessities out of my carry on luggage and get ourselves all settled without having to worry about hoards of people coming down the aisle really helped.

4. I had an aisle seat. On both flights, I was able to easily stand up and rock Cy when he got cranky or restless. I think this made a big difference for both of us. I would have felt really trapped had I been in the middle or on the aisle.

5. Cy is only 3 months old. Yep, I think this definitely helped. He will sleep in my arms, and he has no problem just chilling in my lap. I have a feeling that things may not go so easily in a few months.

A self-portrait as we wait for our flight to Denver

And now, a few thoughts about pre-boarding:

When I pre-boarded on the flight to Denver, the couple sitting next to me also pre-boarded. Now, as Jason pointed out to me when I complained about this, I realize that they don't ask you if you plan to pre-board when you choose your seat, but I really think they should. Isn't it the point of pre-boarding that you have a few minutes to get yourself settled without feeling pressured by those around you? When that other couple showed up right after I got to my seat, I felt like I lost my opportunity to relax and get organized for a minute, because I became instantly anxious about letting them get through. Granted, they were extremely gracious, but still. I think this should be taken into consideration. Just a thought.

Today, after they called for pre-boarding, I made my way to the gate and happened to be the first one there. The woman taking boarding passes put her hand on my arm and said "Wait a minute, this woman needs extra time" and then gestured to an older woman with a cane who was standing behind me. She took her boarding pass and then took mine. Now, I have no problem with this woman going first, but I have to admit I was confused. Weren't we both there because we needed extra time? Why was her need for extra time greater than mine? Sure, she took longer to get down the gateway than I did, but I'm pretty sure it took me longer to get situated in my seat. Was she in a special pre-pre-boarding category? I just didn't get it. I don't know that I've ever seen pre-boarders be prioritized, but maybe that's just me. Can anyone offer any insight for this one?

So, there you have it. Chalk it up to another milestone, if not for Cy, than at least for me.

Flashback Friday: The Story Behind the T-shirt and Tux

2009-10-23T20:58:00.001-07:00

Last week, I posted this picture at the end of my post about Jason rejecting me in 7th grade:

This picture was taken just after Jason and I got engaged. As you may notice, and as was pointed out in two comments on last week's post, Jason is wearing a tux and I am in a grubby T-shirt. I guess this begs some explaining, so here it goes.

First, a little background info. In the spring of 2005, Jason and I had been dating for 4 years and all but three months of that had been long distance. We started dating when I was in college in Los Angeles, and continued dating while I studied abroad in South Africa, worked two summers at Trail Blazers Camp in New Jersey, and then while I lived in the Bronx to continue working full time for Trail Blazers. There is only so much communicating and relationsihp building that you can do over the phone, and it became pretty obvious by that Spring that we either needed to be living in the same city or we needed to break up. Fortunately, Jason opted to move to New York.

Since I left the city each summer to live full time at our camp in New Jersey, Jason toyed with the idea of working at a different summer camp. He even had several job offers with various rich-kid sports camps. However, our camp was in desperate need of lifeguards and Jason was a strong swimmer, so at the last minute, he turned down those other jobs and decided to move out to the wilderness and work as a lifeguard for the summer with a bunch of crazy kids. Oh yeah, and me!

Now this may sound like the perfect summer camp romance, but please consider a few things before jumping to that conclusion: First of all, I was essentially the assistant director at that time, and therefore more or less Jason's boss. We had very different sets of rules to follow. Also, our camp was intense in the strongest sense of that word. We lived in teepees, used latrines, went backpacking, cooked over open fires, all with inner-city kids, who were not only unfamilar with the setting, but also often came with their own sets of challenges and baggage. And the summer of 2005 was even more intense than usual for a variety of reasons that I won't get into here.

So, now you have the background. Now, when someone moves clear across the country for you, it's pretty obvious that marriage is likely in the cards. Jason and I had talked about it all summer, and had even looked at rings on one of our days off, so I knew a proposal was coming. But I like surprises, so I didn't want to know the specifics. (Are you starting to get a sense of how the clothing choices came to be?)Fortunately, Jason is extremely romantic and thoughtful, and pretty good at planning things.

At the end of camp, after the kids have gone home, the staff stay for an extra two days to help take things down for the winter. On the last day we have a big staff banquet, and then all of the staff leave early the next morning. Part of my job as an administrator was to make sure that all of the staff's jobs had been done properly before staff banquet could start. So on that afternoon, I was preparing to go pack up my belongings and then to go do some checks around camp. As I was heading out to my shelter, two co-workers, Kate and Jean, asked me to take a walkie-talkie with me. I thought this was a bit odd as the kids had already left, but I figured they just wanted to be able to reach me as they checked their sections.

So, I'm in my shelter and I hear Kate and Jean on the radio, calling me over to them. They were standing at the top of a path that led down to probably one of the most beautiful spots on camp property, a place called Vesper Glenn. It sits right down next to the lake and is surrounded by trees and flowers. Anyway, when I approach them, they both have very somber looks on their faces and they tell me that we have a problem. According to them, when one of the other staff members checked Vesper Glenn, she found beer cans, bottles, and other evidence of debauchery. Kate asked me to follow her and explained that I just had to see it for myself. Now, our staff that summer were a bit rowdy, but this stil seemed a bit far-fetched. I was beginning to wonder if there was some other plot hatching, but I went along with it anyway.

As we began walking down the path, Kate said the following: "The staff have really done it now. I think we're just going to have to cancel staff banquet and send them all home tonight." Mind you, it was already 4 in the afternoon. On hearing this, I became convinced that Jason was about to propose, so I got this huge grin on my face. However, I also thought that there was a chance, albeit very slight, that Kate and Jean were actually telling the truth, so I tried to hide my grin so that I wouldn't look too stupid if I ended up being wrong.

Well, fortunately, I was not wrong. As I got to the bottom of the path, I heard "our song" playing and saw this:

Yep, that's Jason in a tuxedo with two dozen roses ready to propose. This was my reaction:

He did it all right. He got down on one knee and said some amazingly romantic things, then presented me with my ring.

Of course, I said yes! As we kissed, I heard this huge cheer erupt. I looked out across the lake to the girl's dock and saw almost the entire camp staff cheering! Apparently, everyone knew about the proposal but me! In fact, they had been delaying the staff swim until after Jason proposed.

One of the best parts for me was hearing all of the effort that went in to staging this proposal. Camp is located in a very tiny town, and yet somehow Jason managed to procure a tux. The morning of, he made some excuse to me about needing things for the banquet and went out to buy flowers and pick up his tux. Then, he and another staff member dogded me as he headed over to get set up. Those little tables with white table cloths? They are actually milk crates covered in white camp sheets! At the last minute, he realized that the cd player needed new batteries and he had to run over to the girl's side to get batteries and then run back over to Vesper Glenn - all while wearing a tux in swealtering, humid New Jersy August heat. Here's a shot of what that looked like:

So there you have it. I was wearing a grubby t-shirt because that's pretty much what I wore all summer long, and I was caught by surprise. Jason was wearing a tux becuase he is romantic. And, to answer Kristen's question, the No Bull t-shirt was a left-over from college, when I belonged to - wait for it - the vegetarian club. Get it? No Bull? Yep, pretty clever, I know.

Five Things I Miss About New York

2009-10-22T22:42:00.000-07:00

You may remember a few weeks ago that I wrote about reasons why I was glad I no longer live in New York. In that post, I did promise to write about some good things about New York, and that time has come. I supposed when you live somewhere for five or so years there are certain things that you get used to. As I was making my list, I actually realized that there are quite a few things that I miss (not surprisingly, several of them center on food) so perhaps I will consider this just part one of a series of posts. As a disclaimer, some of these things are not particular to New York, and some may even exist to an extent in Portland, they just aren't as readily available to me now. So here they are:

1. The Corner Store. This is a great little phenomenon that I came to rely upon while in New York. We had one within steps of both of the places we lived in New York, and fact had two or three to choose from within a five block radius. The corner store is kind of like a 7-11 or a mini-mart but less clean and with more character. Some were as tiny as a cubicle but still stocked several hundred items. Most were large enough to include a deli with various meats and cheeses and a hot griddle for Delicious hot sandwiches and breakfast items. They aren't really a place to do a large grocery shopping, but they are indispensable when you are in the middle of cooking dinner and realized that a key ingredient is missing. Of course, it's always kind of a crap-shoot whether or not they store will have your particular item. And, the items stocked definitely reflected the neighborhood and specific population where the store is located. Some stores were open 24 hours, but those that weren't almost never had consistent hours. The one closest to us was open as late at 1am and closed as early as 9pm, all depending on the whim of the owner. The stores were independently owned and the owner usually worked the store most of the time. Since we frequented them, they all knew us by sight. (I suppose it helps that Jason and I were two of maybe 5 white people who lived in our neighborhood). We actually have a version of a corner store near where we live now, but it lacks the character and charm of those in New York, and it just doesn't seem to afford the same level of convenience.

2. The Breakfast Sandwich. I guess this is more of an East Coast thing, but I just don't see it much around here. In New York, nearly every deli or corner store, or even restaurant that served breakfast offered some form of egg and cheese on a roll. While this was the basic, you could get it with bacon, sausage, ham or turkey and on different forms of bread. My personal favorite was a bagel. The eggs are fried on a flat-top griddle (not microwaved as in chain establishments) and everything is made to order. The cheese is almost always American (think Kraft singles) unless you request otherwise, but really, why would you? The American cheese melts and makes the sandwich all delicious and gooey. I admit, not the breakfast of champions, but oh so fantastic. And cheap - depending on your location, the basic breakfast sandwich was $1.50. It used to be my little treat once or twice a month to help me on my walk to the Subway. Once or twice I've ordered some form of the breakfast sandwich only to find that it is about three times as expensive and not even half as delicious. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to save my breakfast sandwich cravings for my next trip to NYC.

3. Lizzy's Fajita Seasoning. OK, this one is going to seem pretty silly, but you have to taste this stuff to understand. We found this by chance in one of the less-than-stellar Bronx supermarkets when we were looking for something to season our fajitas. It is a very simple blend of garlic and onion powder and salt and pepper, but the ratios are perfect. We didn't just use this stuff for fajitas - it was the perfect seasoning for all meats and veggies. I don't know why, but it made pork chops mouth-watering. Just last week we used the last of our jar. It cannot be found anywhere in the Western United States, and even when we were in New York, we could only find it in a few sub-par supermarkets. Just to prove how much we love this stuff, I will tell you that we have asked a few of our New York friends to buy us several jars and we will reimburse them the cost plus shipping. It's just that good.

4. Dunkin' Donuts. Another kind of silly one, I realize. (Remember when I said that most of these things are about food? I wasn't joking). Here's the thing: You can find Dunkin' Donuts here and there around Portland, but they are as prevalent as Starbucks in New York City - maybe even more so. Their coffee is better and cheaper than Starbucks (according to Jason anyway) and their hot chocolate is also fantastic. Plus, every now and again you just want a good donut, and Dunkin' Donuts doesn't disappoint. Jason mentioned the other day that all he really wanted was a Dunkin' Donuts so he could get cheap, good coffee on the way to work. I'm not really sure why there is such a discrepancy in the number of these stores between the two coasts. I guess East Coasters just like their donuts and coffee a little more old school.

5. Pizza. Yep, food again. It's true what they say about New York pizza being different. I didn't really get it until I lived there and now have moved back. Other pizza is all bread - the crust isn't so much crust as it is bread with toppings. The cheese is sparse, as are the other toppings. The slices are puny and are kind of greasy. Now, NY pizza is still kind of greasy, but not nearly as noticeably. The crust is think and dense and there is tons of cheese. Yes, tons. The toppings are generous, too. We used to order Canadian Bacon and Pineapple where the Canadian bacon almost covered the top of the pizza. The slices are hefty and usually one slice can serve as a meal. It is just all-around delicious. However, although I miss it, I'm kind of glad the pizza here isn't as good because now I eat a lot less of it!

Wow, I haven't even finished half my list. I guess we missed more about New York than I thought. We'll explore more of NY another time.

Moving to Portland was completely worth it because...

2009-10-21T20:27:00.000-07:00

...I've be able to see this cool girl six times since March - more than any other year since we graduated high school 10 years ago!

Because Elaine lives in California, about 1.5 hours from my dad and step-mom's, and because I live in Portland, about 30 minutes from her parents' house, we've been able to make lots of excuses to get together. For this most recent visit we decided to meet at my mom and step-dad's house in Denver (pictured), where, incidentally, it snowed today. The benefits of meeting in a neutral location, and, more specifically, at my parent's house, is that we both got spoiled and neither of us had to worry about much of anything. Quite a sweet deal, if you ask me.

There's nothing quite like a friendship that has lasted more than 18 years!

Babyworks - A Fantastic Cusomer Service Experience

2009-10-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

Remember "Customer Service" meant "we care about you and your business and will do whatever we can to make you happy"? These days, Customer Service seems to be more about companies following strict policies and doing as little as possible to keep the customer happy. You often encounter inexperienced, indifferent, unknowledgeable individuals who are just collecting a paycheck and who couldn't care less about your particular issue. In fact, it is this customer service attitude that makes me dread calling anywhere when I do have an issue (which I think may actually be the point...).

Anyway, it is pleasantly surprising to me when I have an acceptable customer service experience, and downright shocking when an individual goes out of his or her way to make me happy. This has been my experience with Babyworks, a small mail-order
company based in Portland.

Some of you may have read my cloth diapering story that has turned into a bit of a saga. You can read my initial glowing review of Babyworks in Part 1, here. Well, as I mentioned in Part 2, I have some issues with the diapers I ordered and am having to send them all back to Fuzzibunz, the manufacturer, to be replaced.

Fuzzibunz has a strict policy that all returns must be accompanied by proof of purchase or they will not be accepted. Well, when I looked for my invoices, I found one but not the other. At the insistence of Jason, I called Babyworks to see if they had copies of my invoices and if so, if they could possibly e-mail them to me. They readily agreed to send over my invoices and expressed sincere concern that my diapers weren't working out for me.

Now this alone might seem like a pretty good customer service experience, but it gets better. the first e-mail came up with blank invoices, so I had to call back. I spoke with someone again and she apologized profusely and sent over the invoices right away. Well, because of some confusion with how we ordered our diapers, and back-orders and various other little things, the initial batch of invoices that sent over didn't match up with what we had. When I called up to see if they could resend and perhaps clear up the confusion, someone spent a good 10 minutes or so helping me figure it out and then re-did and resent the invoices to match what I have. At no point did she seem irritated or annoyed with me. When I expressed amazement to my mom that they were willing to put so much work into helping me with this, she commented that they didn't really do it right the first time, so i shouldn't feel bad and I shouldn't really be all that impressed. I disagree, and here's why:

First of all, it was completely my fault that I didn't have the invoices in the first place. I should have been responsible and kept track of them. I would not have been surprised if, when I called, someone either said that they no longer had the invoices, or at the very least acted irritated with me. Neither happened.

Second, at any point in our back-and-forth phone calls, someone could have said "This really isn't my problem, and I don't have time to keep helping you with something that was your mistake in the first place." But no one ever said that. Every time I called, I was met with kindness and patience. Truly a difficult thing to find these days in the way of customer service.

I have a few theories as to why my experience was so good. First, Babyworks is a small, independent company. They have to win over customers with stellar customer service because they won't always beat out larger competitors in the price department. Second, the women who work at Babyworks are not only knowledgeable about cloth diapers, but also seemingly very passionate about cloth diapering. They sincerely want people to use cloth diapers and to have a pleasant experience. Their efforts seem to extend beyond the bottom line into an actual desire to help people. I find this remarkable.

Not only will I continue to patronize Babyworks, and to recommend it to anyone seeking cloth diapers, I think I will also start seeking out other independent businesses in hopes of having similar positive experiences.

*By the way, if you are at all interested in cloth diapers, I highly recommend contacting Babyworks and at least asking some questions. They can help you figure out if cloth diapering is right for you. And because they are a mail order company, you don't have to live in Portland to use them.

Just Sit Back and Relax, Already!

2009-10-19T19:54:00.000-07:00

Call me naive, but generally speaking, I beleive that all people are good at heart I really do. But there is something about airplanes that seems to bring out the worst in people, and I just don't get it. Let me share some examples.

On several occasions I have been on flights where, upon landing, the captain or flight attendant mentions that some people on the flight have close connections in this city and asks everyone on the plane to please let these folks off of the airplane first. On at least one occasion, I was one of these people, and because of whether delays I had literally 20 minutes from the moment my first flight landed to the moment my next flight took off - we're not talking got to the gate here, we're talking touched down. And of course, I happened to be at the very back of the plane. The captain made his announcement, but, as I've seen on every other similar flight, no one listened. Everyone rushed for the aisle and took their time getting their bags, while I sweated that I might not make my connecting flight. As if this wasn't stressful enough already, it happened to be Christmas Eve. If this were the only time I had experienced this, I might be able to chalk it up to excitement/stress/anxiety over getting home for the Holidays - but it has happened on other far more mundane days.

I was actually talking to Jason about this very thing as he drove Cy and I to the airport yesterday. And as if to confirm my assertion that airplane travel makes people rude, I encountered several more examples of unpleasant behavior on our flight. To fully appreciate these examples, you should know that our flight was 100% full. Ok, here they are:

1. A woman gets on the flight toward the end of boarding and she is carrying a large, round, hard case. As she looks around at the overhead bins, searching for somewhere to put her case, the guy sitting across the aisle from me says very loudly and with attitude, "Ship it next time". As she continues looking for a place for her case, he says, again loud enough for her to hear, "Come on Lady, just sit down already."

2. Another woman gets on with a small rolling suitcase and tries to put it in the overhead bin above her seat. There is a laptop case that is clearly small enough to fit under a seat but is making it impossibly for her to fit in her suitcase. She asks around to find out to whom is belongs and when a guy pipes up, she asks kindly if he can please put it under his seat, where there is nothing being stored. He replies "There is no room." They go back and forth about why he can't put it there and the woman ultimately has to check her bag while the man has nothing under the seat in front of him. Incidentally, she ended up sitting next to him, which I'm sure made for an uncomfortrable flight.

3. There is a woman sitting behind me with a small child in her lap as well. Before the flight takes off, both her child and Cyrus are being very good, but are making little babay noises. The guy sitting across from her says "Wow, I guess we're not going to get any peace on this flight" loudly enough, obviously, that I can hear him. As if those of us with babies aren't already overly concious of the fact that our babies could be loud and disruptive during a flight, someone has to point it out to us.

Now I suppose it is possible that all three of these people in the above examples are just rude anyway. However, I don't think it's possible that several airplanes-full of people are rude in their every day life. And I like to think that those three people sitting near me are also kind at some point in their lives. So if that is the case, then what is it about airplanes that makes people say and/or do things that make others' lives more difficult or make others feel bad. Is it the anxiety of flying? Is it the fact that you are likley to never see these people again? And, does a full flight lead to more anxiety and thus to more abandoning of basic human decency? I don't know the answer. But I do know that I now make a concious effort to smile to parents when their kids are being loud or taking a long time, to only put large items in the overhead compartment and wait to put my jacket in until the end, and to allow those folks with connecting flights to get off first. Above all else, I try to keep my comments to myself so that, at the very least, I don't make someone feel bad.

Has anyone else noticed this airplane phenomenon? Does anyone have any insight into what might make it so?

Can't Stop Now!

2009-10-18T19:52:00.000-07:00

I'm officially more than halfway through with NaBloPoMo and while that is encouraging, it also adds the pressure. Today is a day when I would not probably write a post if I weren't participating in NaBloPoMo. It was Cyrus's first airplane ride and I tackled that adventure all on my own. It went surprisingly well, but it was still an early morning and an exhausting day. Plus, I don't know if it was the airplane air, the high altitude and dry climate of Denver, or some kind of virus but I have a very sore throat and feel extremely tired. I just don't have the brainpower to attempt an entertaining, thought-provoking, or otherwise intersting post.

I'm sure that some of you are saying "Well, Amber, then just don't write a post today. There is no reward for completing NaBloPoMo, there will be no strikes of lightnening if you miss a day - give yourself a break." Oh, if only I could. But see, I started this and I don't want to be a quitter. And, I beg to differ that there is no reward for completing this little challenge - I will have the reward of sweet satisfaction that I tackled and concurred something outside of my comfort zone and somewhat challening. Also, I have been known to be a little competative, even if it's with myself or some unknown entity. So I can't just not post today. I had to write something, even if this is a bit on the pathetic side. At least I haven't broken my momentum.

I promise to post something much more interesting and intriguing tomorrow!

Oh How Much Can Change in a Year

2009-10-17T23:14:00.000-07:00

Exactly one year ago yesterday Jason and I found out that we were pregnant with Cyrus. It probably seems a little strange to remember the exact date of that kind of thing, but I do. And I know the date because I remember feeling cramps on October 8, which was the due date of our first baby, the one we miscarried at 10 weeks. And I remember thinking on October 8th that it was only the 17th day of my cycle (you keep track of these things when you are trying to get pregnant) and how cruel of a trick for me to be getting cramps on the very day that I was supposed to be giving birth. And then nothing happened. I took a pregnancy test on day 26, and lo and behold, I was pregnant! It was pretty much the perfect time because I think that if I hadn't gotten pregnant that month, I may have gone just a little crazy - in fact, I'm pretty sure I was already headed down that path. As I'm sure is the case with anyone trying to get pregnant, it can be torturous every month that you aren't, and I think this is especially true if you've suffered a miscarriage - or at least it was for me.

So anyway, that blessed day came and suddenly our whole perspective changed. We began making plans and before we knew it, our whole life had changed, and that was even before the baby arrived! It is a rather interesting sequence of events that have led to where we are right now, and as I've been reflecting on it, I thought I would share.

We pretty much decided right away that raising a child in New York, and especially in the Bronx, just wasn't going to work for us. Now I know lots of women who do raise kids in the Bronx, and I admire them greatly, but if you don't have to, why would you? It's just hard in many, many ways. Plus, we realized pretty quickly that we couldn't pay for child-care on our non-profit salaries, and we couldn't afford for me to stay home on just Jason's salary, while still living in New York. So it was settled - we would simply have to leave New York. The first question was where would we go and the second was, when would we leave.

Sometime at the end of October, well before we had told any of our family that there was a baby on the way, my dad called to tell me that the person who had been living in and managing the room rentals in his Portland house was leaving and that if we were thinking about coming to Portland in the next year or so, that we could take over. Well, that pretty much answered the first question. Portland was where we wanted to live anyway, and now that we had housing it was a no-brainer. However, we were still thinking we would wait until the end of the summer/beginning of fall to move - it just seemed a more convenient time for Jason's job.

Well, as a kind of side note, we decided to drive to Kansas for Thanksgiving, as that was where our closest family lived and we couldn't really afford to fly anywhere, and, we really didn't want to spend the holiday alone. (Another key reason why leaving New York was bound to happen). As we left our family and began the 20-hour drive back to New York, we both realized that we just really, really, REALLY didn't want to be going back there. We were done with New York, and the sooner we could get out of there, the better. So on that drive we decided that summer was far too long to wait, and instead, we needed to move before the baby was born.

We put things in motion right away. We set a "Leave NY" date of February 28th. We called my dad and told him he was going to be a grandpa and that we wanted to move into his house. We gave our notice at both of our jobs and at our apartment. We cautiously started telling people that a baby was on the way.

And then we were off. There was no turning back. Even as we realized that the job market in Portland was somewhat abysmal. Even as we realized that the cost of moving across the country was going to be astronomical. It didn't matter. This just seemed to be the right thing to do.

So we somehow made it work. We traded in our money-guzzling Saturn Vue (that is another story altogether - one that I may or may not have the stomach to tell) for a mini van with "stow-and-go" seating that would help facilitate our cross-country move. We sold most of our furniture and cleared out more than half of the random crap that had accumulated over the five-plus years we had lived in New York. And on February 28th we packed our van and a trailer, pretty much filling them to capacity, and headed west.

We arrived in Portland with a place to live and that was about it. We had practically no furniture, no job, no plan, really - just a good feeling. And fortunately, it worked out. Jason found a job that paid enough for us to pay our bills and included insurance (a big deal, I discovered, when you're about to have a baby).

Sometimes, it's hard to imagine that just a year ago our life was very different. We definitely had more money, but we also had way, way more stress. Life in New York is stressful, or at least it was for us. When I saw the word "pregnant" pop up on that little test, I of course knew my life would change (how could it not with a baby) but I don't think I could have imagined it changing this much. And yet, I'm glad it did. It now feels like this is pretty much where we're supposed to be, at least for now.

Flashback Friday: The Perils of 7th Grade Romance

2009-10-16T22:11:00.000-07:00

This week we are venturing back to the oh so terrifying days of Junior High in all of their awkward glory. Surely you remember those days - when everyone is jockying for popularity, when boys and girls are starting to really figure out that they like each other, but don't really know what to do about it.

Toward the end of 7th grade, this boy moved into our school. I thought he was pretty nice and kind of cute. We started spending a lot of time together, just talking and hanging out, often with a group of other people. At the end of the year, our whole class went to Oak's Park and this boy and I spent almost the whole day together. I realized that I liked him - you know, LIKED him, like, more than a friend. And, as 7th grade girls do, I told my friends who all assured me that he liked me too. In fact, I'm sure there was one of those fun chains where one of my friends asked one of his friends to ask him if he liked me, and I think that by the time it got back to me, the answer was yes.

Well, I must have felt very bold because I decided, probably after hours of consultation with my friends, that I would approach this boy and find out for sure if he liked me. From there, I'm not sure exactly where I thought things would go, or if I had even thought that far ahead - I guess the point was really just to find out if we liked each other.

As luck would have it, we took yet another 7th grade trip (what was with all of these class trips, by the way?), this time to a park, and we were all walking there together. It just so happened that this boy and I ended up walking together, because, after all, we had become pretty good friends. So as we were walking I decided that this was my big chance to find out just what was in store for me. I mustered up my courage and led with this fantastic line: "So, I hear you kind of like me." Smooth, I know. And then I waited for his affirmation.

Imagine my surprise and chagrin when he replied with "Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear." Pause. Wait, what? He doesn't like me? Oh, the embarrassment! Oh the hurt! How could the friend chain have been so wrong? My cheeks instantly flushed bright red and I stammered something incomprehensible, then proceeded to begin walking really, really fast, so as to put distance not only between myself and the boy but also between me and that horribly embarrassing situation. I do believe I cried my little eyes that evening. Alas, whatever visions I had of 7th grade romance had been shattered.

Sometimes, things happen for a reason. That boy and I recovered from the awkardness of junior high and he eventually became my best friend, then my boyfriend, and finally my husband. If I had dated that boy in 7th grade, who knows what would have become of our relationship. Plus, now whenever we have an argument, I get to remind him (all in good fun, of course) that he broke my heart once upon a time!

Jason and I right after he proposed.

My Cloth Diapering Story: Part 2

2009-10-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

All right, when I started the first part of this story, I was loving my cloth diapers. We have been using them for about three months, and up until about a week ago, they were working so well. I was planning to write a glowing review of not only the cloth diapering process but also of the particular cloth diaper we use. I am still committed to cloth diapering, but my confidence in our particular product is wavering a bit - we are having some serious leaking issues with our diapers. I contemplated holding off on this post until the issue was resolved one way or the other. But then I decided that maybe this is just part of the cloth diapering journey, and therefore worth discussing.

So. I’ll start with a little bit more about the product. We use a one size pocket diaper made by Fuzzibunz. In the previous post I discussed some of the different options and manufacturers. Pocket diapers have a waterproof outside layer and soft fleece inside layer with an absorbent cloth insert that goes between the waterproof and fleece layers (See figure 1 below). The One size diapers come with two terry cloth inserts - a newborn size and a regular size. The diapers are fitted with special elastic around the leg holes and across the back. The elastic has various button holes with little numbers next to each hole that fit buttons on the diapers. There is a place to adjust the elastic in the front and back of each leg hole and on either side of the back of the diaper. The leg adjustments go from 1 (the loosest) to 8 (the tightest) in the both the front and the back, and the back elastic goes from 1 to 4 on either side. The diapers close with snaps. There are two rows of snaps so that you can adjust the tightness as needed (see figure 2 below). As your child grows, you adjust the waistband with the back elastic and the snaps, and you adjust the leg holes with the leg elastic.

Figure 1 - Cloth diaper and insert

Figure 2 - Snaps

The process of using these diapers has been extremely easy. Yes, it is slightly more work than your basic disposable, but I find the work load to be minimal. They go on very easily – no pins or folding like our parents dealt with. It took me a few tries to get the sizing right, but once we had that figured out, they pretty much go on just like a disposable. When we remove the diapers, we have an extra step of spraying them off before putting them in the hamper. I only spray off the poopy diapers. Sometimes we do this right when he dirties a diaper; however, more often than not I am by myself or it’s the middle of the night, in which case we leave the diapers on the side of the changing table and spray several off at once. It probably adds an extra 5 minutes a day at the most. Then I shake out the insert and put them in the hamper. We also use reusable wipes, which I also throw in the hamper and wash with the cloth diapers.

The most obvious extra work comes with the extra load of laundry. I do a load of diapers every two to three days. They require a cold soak and pre-wash, followed by a hot wash and a double colds rinse. Then I dry them on low. It takes me about 20 minutes to put the inserts back in and then they are ready to go.

When we are out and about, I just take a little “dirty duds” bag with me and I used flushable liners to get rid of the bulk of the yucky stuff. When I change his diaper, I flush the liner and then put the dirty diaper in the dirty duds bag and I’m done. Pretty easy.

After my last post, someone asked me about the extra energy and water costs associated with using cloth diapers. I haven’t done full research on this yet but I guess it basically costs the same as doing a load of laundry, plus a little extra for the prewash and second rinse. I have a hard time believing that this is comparable to disposable in either price or environmental impact, particularly when you take into account the water and energy needed to make the disposable diapers, not to mention their space in landfills.

All right, so now I’ll tell you about some of the issues I’ve had with the Fuzzibunz product. One of my main problems with them in general is that you can’t use diaper cream because it doesn’t wash off of the fleece and then creates repelling issues (where the water pools and leaks out instead of being absorbed into the insert). Generally speaking, babies in cloth diapers don’t get diaper rash as often as babies in disposables. Cyrus, however, got thrush when he was two weeks old that led to a really severe diaper rash, and he has very sensitive skin, so we often have to use diaper cream. In these instances we use a flushable liner, which actually sometimes makes clean up easier. However, this is not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.

Now on to the big one. Over the past week or so, the diapers have been leaking out of the legs incessantly. In fact, I’ve had to change Cyrus’s clothes almost as often as I’ve changed his diapers, which leads to more laundry. This I don’t appreciate. After looking on the Fuzzibunz website, I discovered that I could have some build-up issues. I followed the procedure on the website to “strip” the diapers of their buildup but the leaking continued. On further inspection I realized that the seams are leaking. And not just on some of the diapers, but on all 24 that I purchased. I’ve switched to disposables for the time being just to avoid the hassle.

So I e-mailed Fuzzibunz and was pleasantly surprised by their response. They basically told me to send in my diapers and they would send me replacements. Just like that, basically no questions asked. So that’s where we are. We shall see how well the new batch functions and I will update my Fuzzibunz review at that time. For now, I still like the product, but I cannot recommend it. Check back to see how it goes.

*For the update, click here.

Blog Fever and Being Shown Up

2009-10-14T11:48:00.000-07:00

Apparently all of this posting has boosted my blogging confidence, and I now think that I'm capable of maintaining not one, but two blogs! Yep, that's right, tease me if you will, but I've started a blog for my child - well, about him really. I decided that I like this blog being about my experiences and perspectives, but realized that some of my family and friends really just want to hear about Cy (honestly, probably just his grandparents, but still). Plus, I'm pretty crappy at scrapbooking, so this is my compromise. At the moment the blog is open, but will soon be made private. If all two of you who read this blog want to read that one too, post a comment and I'll invite you. You can check it out here but know that I've essentially posted the first post here as well.

So about a month ago at Cy's 2 month check-up, we told his doctor that Cy absolutely despises tummy time. Every time we put him on his tummy he immediately dropped his head to the ground and began the closest thing to a temper tantrum that a 2 month old is capable of - screaming, crying and flailing of limbs. We told her that he pretty much just gives up. So she decides to see how he does on his tummy. She grabbed him by the arms and put him on his tummy. Here comes the being shown up part. His arms were straight back against his sides and the first thing he does is lift his chest up, mermaid style. then, he promptly rolls off of the exam table! Fortunately, the doctor was quick and she caught him. Making liers out of us already!

Of course, we get home, and he's having none of it. He flat out refuses to roll over, and though he gives it a minute or two before the wailing begins, he's still pretty unhappy on his tummy. Fast forward to this past Saturday and we have a friend over. After explaining just how much he hates tummy time, we put Cy on his tummy, and what does he do? Rolls over! Shown up again! We tried to get him to do it again later that day and the following day, but yet again, he was having none of it.

Finally yesterday, the day he turned three months old, I put him on his tummy and - voila! He rolled over. Still not convinced it wasn't a fluke, I put him back on his tummy and again! He rolled over! Four times in total and once this morning tells me we've reached another milestone! And, just for a little shameless bragging, here's a video clip:

Finally! Cyrus's Birth Story

2009-10-13T10:27:00.000-07:00

Seeing as how Cyrus is three months old today, I thought it would be appropriate to finally share his birth story. Before he was born, I enjoyed reading others' birth stories, and had already decided that I would post mine as well. I figured that I would get it up not more than two weeks after he was born. Well, a few things have kept me from that, not the least of which is Cyrus himself. But, if I'm really honest, part of the reason that this is such a hard story to write is that it isn't the story I wanted to be writing. Let me warn you in advance, this is a looooong post. I won't be offended if you don't read the whole thing. I tried to pare it down as much as possible, but then, my labor was long too!

Jason and I planned and prepared for a natural birth, and by that I mean unmedicated, with as few interventions as possible. At the very least, I wanted to avoid an epidural and I wanted absolutely no part of a c-section. In my preparation, I read lots of birth stories and a few books, followed a few blogs and, most of all, enrolled Jason and I in the Bradley Method of Natural Childbirth classes. There were 12 classes in total and they covered good nutrition and exercise, information on various forms of intervention and how best to avoid them, relaxation exercises, and strategies for our labor coaches - our husbands. We tried to go with a midwife at a Birthing Center, but it wasn't covered by insurance and we couldn't afford to pay out of pocket. We ended up with a midwife practice through Kaiser. And, even after all of our planning and preparation, I wanted some extra insurance for my natural birth, so we hired a doula, our childbirth instructor Sarah.

Now, I knew that if I had to be induced, I had a higher chance of getting additional interventions, particularly if pitocin was used, and a higher chance of ending up with a c-section. So, starting from 37 weeks, I began praying and hoping that I would go into labor. Then June 27th (my due date) came and went. I tried acupuncture, nipple stimulation, pressure points, and walking. Oh my did I walk. I met with one of my midwives and discovered that I was dilated at all - "Not even a dimple" she said. We decided that as long as I had a few non-stress tests, I could wait until July 11th, a full two weeks after my due date. The stress just kept building. I even tried the Murphy's Law of labor induction - at 41 weeks, Jason and I went to Black Butte for 4th of July, a good 2.5 hour drive from Portland, and at least 2 hours from the nearest Kaiser hospital. Still nothing. A few days before July 11th, I met with another midwife to plan my induction. If I didn't go into labor on my own, the I would come in at 6am on July 11th to be induced. Oh the stress!

On Friday, July 10th I had contractions off and on all day, and they were certainly stronger than they had previously been, but still nothing to get excited about. That night we took our dog to Jason's sister's and got ourselves all ready to go and then went to bed. We were nervous and stressed, but also a little excited, because we figured that at the very least we'd have our baby by Sunday night.

I woke up at 2:00am for no particular reason, and then about 30 seconds later I felt my water break. I bolted for the bathroom, calling to Jason as I went that my water had broken. Well, he decides that the best course of action is to just put down some towels and go back to bed, especially since my contractions weren't particularly strong. However, I realized pretty quickly that there was meconium, which can be a sign of distress, so I decided we should go in. After all, they were expecting us in a few hours anyway.

When we arrived, the contractions were coming every 3 minutes and lasting 45 seconds - usually a pretty good sign. However, they still weren't particularly strong and I was only dilated to 1.5cm, and about 65% effaced - not great for a woman who is supposed to be in labor. Now, one thing I have to mention is that our Kaiser hospital experience was amazing. The very first thing the labor triage nurse did was ask for our birth plan, and then she proceeded to inform the first midwife we saw of our wishes. This happened every time there was a nurse shift change. So they put me in a room, and Jason and I commenced waiting. We walked, I ate some breakfast, we walked some more. Around 11am, I thought the contractions were picking up so I asked Jason to call Sarah and I asked the nurses if I could go in the labor tub. Sarah arrived at about 1pm, while I was in the tub. Things had died down a little while in the tub, so I decided to get out and walk around.

Around 2pm, everything stopped. Nothing. No contractions, not even a twinge. The nurses wanted to start pitocin, but we asked them to hold off. We tried EVERYTHING. I walked all over the hospital, I got in the shower, I tried nipple stimulation, the whole thing. With each passing moment I got more and more stressed out, which I'm sure didn't help. I felt like time was just ticking away. At around 8pm, Jason asked our nurse, a fantastic woman named Ann Hathaway, of all things, if I could maybe get some sleep. I had been up for a long time, and we thought that might help. So I did. I slept for maybe 2 hours or so. Then I woke up with what I thought was the start of my real labor. I had a few strong contractions over the next two hours, so we called our nurse back in. Of course, the minute she arrived, they stopped. Finally, at about 1:30am, we consented to start pitocin, almost 24 hours after my water broke.

Even with the pitocin, which I knew could bring on brutal contractions, I was determined to labor without any pain medication. We called Jason's sister Angie, who had planned to be with us, and we got labor going. The contractions slowly built over the next several hours. I continued to walk around the halls as much as I could, squatting with each contraction to try and bring that baby down. At around 11am (this is Sunday morning now) we called Sarah back (we sent her home when labor stalled) as the contractions had really picked up. At some point I got back in the tub, which sort of helped, but not really. And yet, I still felt like I had it under control.

At about 2pm, I was in the shower, and the contractions were intense. I was exhausted, and really struggling. My labor nurse at the time, a woman who supposedly was very pro-natural birth, came in and said something along the lines of, "It's ok if you get help if you need it. Maybe you just can't handle this". Well, that was what I needed. I gathered myself up, and just started repeating to Jason "I can do this, right? I can handle this?"

We headed to the bed, and I found my groove. I was holding Jason's hand on one side, and Angie's hand on the other, and they were pretty much supporting my body weight, and Sarah was sitting in front of me. The contractions rocked my body, and I could no longer stay silent. Sarah told me to try saying "Yes" instead of no, and to moan deeply if I needed to make noise, which I did. All I could concentrate on was saying "Yes" as I was hit with each contraction. At some point, I threw up and I knew then that I was going through transition, which I had been told usually happened around 7 or 8 cm. At about 6:30pm I asked to be checked. I figured it wouldn't be much longer now. The midwife checked me and, are you ready for this? 4cm.

That's right, all that work, and I was only at 4cm. That broke me. I lost all motivation, and I pretty much knew at that point that I couldn't do it anymore. My supports tried to keep me going, Jason and Sarah and Angie kept encouraging me. We tried the tub again, but the contractions were peaking at the very beginning, giving me no time to prepare. Plus, I was so tired from having been at this for so long that I kept falling asleep between contractions, and then waking up in excruciating pain. We got a new nurse at around 7pm, Shannon, and she was incredible. She kept encouraging me, and holding me off as I began to ask for drugs. Looking back, my whole attitude had changed. I was no longer saying Yes with each contraction, but instead "I can't do this". At about 8:30, they all convinced me to get checked before I went ahead and got the epidural. I got out of the tub and threw up again. When the midwife checked me I was at a 6. Better, but I knew at that point that I if I had any hope of pushing this baby out, I needed to get some sleep. I caved and asked for the epidural.

At 9pm, I got the epidural and was surprised that I wasn't pain free. I felt intense pressure at the top of my stomach with each contraction. However, it was enough that I could go to sleep for a few hours. I woke at about 2am (Monday morning - 48 hours after my water broke) with intense pain in one little part of my abdomen, going straight through to my back. This is what they call a "window," where the epidural doesn't work in one little area and the a pain peeks through. But, because of the epidural, I couldn't really change positions on my own. I was stuck, and it was awful.

Finally, at about 4am I was fully dilated. I pushed a little, but they realized he was facing sunny side up. They reposition me to see if they could get the baby to turn and I laid like that for about an hour and a half. At 6am I began to push. By this point, there was no epidural, and I was at the highest level of pitocin. I pushed in every imaginable position - squatting, hands and knees, on my side, on my back. The contractions were coming every 1-2 minutes. Now, what I didn't anticipate was that I would be in pain in between contractions - excruciating pain in my hips and legs. I had no break.

A little before 8am, the midwife on-call, Tom, came in and checked me and said that if he pushed on my perineum he could see the head. I asked him for a rough estimate of how much longer and he said about an hour. Ok, I can do this, I thought. At 8am, the shifts changed and the new midwife on call came in to check me. She realized they had been tracking my heart beat instead of his, so she called for an internal fetal monitor. Then she checked me again and gave me some crushing news. After pushing for 2.5 hours, the baby hadn't dropped into my pelvis - in fact, he was still at a -2, where he was when I came into the hospital over two days before. Her words were "Your baby is doing fine, so you can keep pushing if you want to, but I'm not convinced he's going to be born vaginally".

That was it for me. I looked at the faces around me - Angie, Jason, Sarah, - and just said "I'm ready to meet my baby". Jason and I had a minute together and we decided to go ahead with a C-section - the one thing I had dreaded above all else. Even now, it brings tears to my eyes to think about it.

So, at 9:35am, on Monday, July 13th, 2 weeks and 2 days past his due date, Cyrus Thompson Wells was born via C-section. He weighed 8lbs 6oz, was 21.5 inches long and had a 15 inch head. Here are some labor stats for you:

Total hours in labor: 55.5

Total hours with pitocin: 31

Hours on pitocin with no epidural: 19

Hours pushing: 2.5

I have several thoughts on my labor, but seeing as how this post is already a novel, I will save those for another day. I'll just end with this: The process was not what we hoped for, but at the end of the day, every decision was ultimately ours, and, what matters most is that we got our baby boy.

Jason, Amber and Cyrus one day after Cy's birth.

A special kind of procrastinating

2009-10-12T22:50:00.000-07:00

Tonight I tackled a project that's been gnawing at me for some time - I organized my dresser drawers. When we moved Portland in March, I was about 5 months pregnant and fully in maternity clothes. When we unpacked, I put only maternity clothes in my dresser and all other clothes went into storage bins. Ever since Cy was born, I'd been slowing adding non-maternity clothes to my dresser as my body returns to some semblance of it's former shape. As a result, my drawers had gotten really out of hand. There was basically no organization left whatsoever - I was just putting items wherever they would fit, regardless of what other items occupied the drawer. Finally, it just got to be too much. I had Jason take the storage bins off of the top shelf and I commenced sorting my clothes into three piles: maternity clothes to be stored until pregnancy #2, clothes that currently fit or are very, very close to fitting, and clothes that are still quite a ways away from fitting, and may in fact never fit.

I got about 3/4 of the way through my project and then lost motivation. Of course, this is the point in the project when things still look pretty bad - most items have been put in their place, but there is a smattering of items from all categories scattered across the bed, as well as some things about which I'm just not sure what to do. I walked out to the living to complain to Jason about how much I just didn't want to do this project anymore. He asked me how far I had to go, and when I replied that I was almost finished he gave me a knowing smile and said "Right there is your problem. You never want to finish things."

And he's right. This is my special form of procrastination, and it applies to all areas of my life. I get very close to the end of something - a term paper, packing, a household project, cleaning, organizing, etc - and I just kind of give up. I used to spend nearly as much time writing the conclusion to an essay as I did writing the entire remainder of the essay, and I usually finished the paper with no time to spare, even if I had started it plenty early. Even letter writing and thank-you notes are affected by this. I don't know how many times I have written a thank-you note, even addressed the envelope, and then never sent it because I didn't have a stamp, or just didn't take the time to put a stamp on. Every time I tackle a project like the one tonight, I stop just short of finishing it. Even as I write this post, there are a few items that need to be hung up that are still sitting on my bed.

I have no real explanation for why I do this. Perhaps it is a result of my perfectionism. Maybe there's some kind of fear that as long as a project remains incomplete, I can still fix it. This makes sense with an essay or even with thank-you notes, but makes no real sense when it comes to cleaning and organization. Sometimes I think it's a product of my indecisiveness - things left at the end of a project are often things for which I don't have a clear place or solution, and therefore I just kind of give up. Who knows?

Ha! Even now, I'm sitting here trying to figure out how the heck to end this blog post. Hmm. I'll guess I'll just leave it at that...a weakness that I need to work on.

My newly organized drawers. Look, I completed a project!

Suprising things I've done in the past 10 years

2009-10-11T22:08:00.000-07:00

I won't lie, I am struggling with NaBloPoMo today. I am very tired and lacking inspiration. So, here is a list of some thing that I've done over the past 10 years that have been surprising to my family/friends, me or both.

1. Choose to spend a summer living in the woods in New Jersey with a bunch of crazy kids for a laughably small amount of money. This included using a latrine, sleeping in a teepee with a mosquito net, and going on several overnight backing trips with 9 inner-city teenage girls.

2. Join my college's cross country team for two years in a row.

3. Live in South Africa for a semester.

4. Return to said New Jersey woods for two more summers.

5. Move to the Bronx so that I can work for above mentioned summer camp full time, also for a laughably small amount of money.

6. Continue living in the Bronx even when I had the choice to move somewhere else, and continue working for summer camp for a grand total of 5.5 years (8 total summers at said camp).

7. Get married before the age of 30.

8. Become a Mormon.

9. Buy a Minivan

10. Move across the country with no job and no plan

11. Quite my job to be a stay at home mom.

What have you done that surprised you and/or those you love?

Is he breathing?

2009-10-10T23:09:00.000-07:00

I wrote about Cyrus's napping issues a few days ago, but was careful to only hint at his night sleep, because it has been, well, easy. And I am kind of a believer in the ability of one to jinx one's good fortune by talking about it while it is still happening. But I'm going to write about it just a little anyway and hope that the cosmic forces out there don't punish me.

From the beginning, Cy has slept his one long stretch during the night. Now, I use "long" loosely, as it was only three hours in the beginning. But that long stretch has lengthened progressively over the past few months, going from three to four to five hours. Up until two nights ago, his longest stretch ever was 7 hours, and that was the night after he got his vaccinations. He has routinely only slept about 5 to 6 hours at the longest.

On Thursday night, he went to sleep at 7pm, and at 4am Jason woke with a start to ask if I had heard him wake up. I hadn't. We were both suddenly hit with worry. Jason ran into his room to check if he was ok, and at first couldn't feel him breath. So he patted his head. Nothing. He did it again. Still nothing. Finally, Jason kind of jiggled his head, and - ahh releif - he moved. Twenty minutes later he woke up to eat. The next morning, we marvelled that he slept for nine and a half hours, but were sure it was a fluke. But then he did it again last night. And he's working on the same pattern tonight.

We've waited for this moment kind of since he was born. Ahh, to have to wake up only once a night! To get several hours of sleep in a row! Fantastic! And yet, at the risk of sounding like I'm complaining, because I'm really not, I never anticipated the stress that would come from having him essentially sleep through the night. When he wakes up every few hours, you kind of know that things are ok. Although I'm sure it's kind of false, there's a sense of security in that. It's kind of scary to have him sleep so soundly for so long. Just a few minutes ago, I went into his room to check if he was ok, and I too couldn't feel the rise and fall of his stomache. My heart dropped a little, even as I realized that he was probably just fine. I placed my hand in front of his face and sighed again with relief at the warm-cold-warm breath I felt as he breathed ever so softly in and out.

I realize now that the overwhelming fear that something will happen to him will never go away. Add that to the list of things I heard but didn't believe. After Jason and I lost our first pregnancy in the 10th week, we were understandably on edge when we got pregnant with Cy. After a brief scare with him in the 10th week, we saw his heartbeat again, and I remember asking my midwife in a shaky voice to reassure me that seeing the heartbeat at 10 weeks was a good sign. And her response stuck with me. She said: "Yes, that is a good sign. But Amber, that feeling that you're hoping will go away, that worry? It never does. Not even when they're 18." And although I knew she was probably right, I think somewhere in the back of my head I figured that once he was born, I would rest easy. I was wrong. Not only does that worry not go away, it seems to intensify with each passing day. And I'm quite sure that it will grow and stay with me until the day I die. Just a little side affect of loving another human being more than life itself.

Flashback Friday: The Subletter from Hell

2009-10-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

All right, I'm not sure what the blogger protocol is for starting a post series and then interrupting it...but I'm going to do it anyway. It is, after all, Friday, and it's time for a Flashback!

The summer after Jason and I got married we both planned to work at the camp I ran in New Jersey, and therefor would be leaving our apartment empty for the summer. Now, I don't know how common the practice is in other parts of the country, but if you're a New Yorker and you plan to vacate your apartment for even a short time, let alone three months, you better believe you're going to try to capitalize on that and sublet it! So, that is what we set out to do. We posted on craigslist and even offered to pay utilities if the potential subletter was willing to keep our cat for the summer and take care of her (we took our dog with us to camp, but couldn't accommodate the cat).

New York is a pretty hot spot for subletters, and although the Bronx is slightly (or more than slightly) less appealing than most of the other boroughs (except Staten Island...no one wants to live there), we did get a fair number of responses. We showed the place to a few people, but it was a pretty long commute to Manhattan, so no one was interested so far. Then we met Kerry*. She was a law student with an internship in upstate New York and so our Bronx apartment was perfect for her. She came to take a look and immediately wanted the place. We were less sure about her. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was just something about her that didn't sit right - she seemed a little awkward in kind of a hostile sort of way. Oh, if only I had heeded my gut instinct. But, it was very close to summer and we desperately needed a subletter, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt and we decided to go ahead and sublet to her. I mean, she was law student, after all, how bad could she be?

Despite our hesitation, our good nature and assumption that others are also of good nature took over, and we didn't even write up a contract. We did ask for a security deposit, equal to one month's rent, and then asked for each of the three month's rent to be paid on the first of the month. We packed up our clothes and some of our more valuable items and left them with a friend, scrubbed the heck out of the apartment, and then left our cat and moved to New Jersey for the summer.

Fast forward to August 15th and we haven't received August's rent yet. I called her and e-mailed her several times, but got no response. By sometime around the 25th of August the kids had left camp, but I was staying for another week to close things up, and I still hadn't heard from her. I feared the worst. I had visions of scenes worthy of Law and Order running through my head, and at the very least I was worried about my cat. So I grabbed a friend and drove the 2 hours back to the city. I remember distinctly sitting in the car outside of my apartment, feeling nervous. What would I find? Would she be alive? Dead? Tied up? What other solution could there be to not getting rent and not hearing back from her? Or would I find my apartment emptied of all of my possessions?

Well, I still had a set of keys, so we went up to the door, knocked several times, and finally entered with my key. I cannot describe the scene before my eyes. I literally pushed the door open against a pile of clothes and shoes and the pile continued all the way down the long hallway to the bedroom. The living room was also a disaster. And then I saw my cat. My poor, street-rescued cat had more than doubled in size! She was so fat her head almost disappeared! Before I walk into the kitchen to further inspect the damage, Kerry popped her head out from the bedroom, clearly only half-dressed. And this was the weird part - she didn't say "Hang on a minute let me put some pants on" or "I'm just in the middle of getting dressed, give me a minute" she just proceeded to have a conversation with me while she poked her torso out of the bedroom. I told her I hadn't received rent and that I had been worried because I hadn't heard from her and all she said was, I sent a check, sorry. I was so taken aback by the state of the apartment and by her oddness, that my only response was "I'm taking the cat and going back to camp." My friend still laughs at that statement. It had a ring similar to "I'm taking my toys and going home!"

I went into the kitchen to grab the cat's food and discovered why my poor animal was so obese - there was container after container of cat food sitting on the counter. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet, 24/7. Now some cats might know when to say when, but not rescue kitty - oh no, she always ate in survival mode. If it was there, she consumed it just in case it wasn't there the next day. So she had been gorging herself on cat food for who knows how long! Then, we left and drove back to camp.

A week later, on Labor Day, Jason and I returned to our apartment for good at about 8:30pm, not sure what we would find. On first glance, it didn't seem to be too bad. But as we looked closer, we saw just how disgusting this law student was. Oh friends, it was ugly. Let's just say we cleaned for three hours before I felt Ok going to bed, and then spent the entire next day trying to get our apartment back. Words are good, but pictures are better. Below, please observe the grossness...

The Kitchen floor, before we even had a chance to sweep up the rest of the stuff on the floor. (No, that's not a real tomato, it's a timer, but still)

Our bed, with a mysterious, scary stain on my Egyptian Cotton mattress pad. That stain went through the mattress pad, the foam egg crate and the mattress! We threw the top two out and got a new mattress a few months later.

The buildup of cat hair on the area rug in the living room.

Where the cat box usually sat. It looked as though it had not been cleaned out once. Then we picked it up and saw this beneath it. Clearly, the cat litter that went over the edge of the box had not been swept up. It took me over thirty minutes to clean this 2 square feet of tile!

I wish this was all. There was pot ash on the coffee table, strange stains on the wood floor that took off a few layers of finish, she had taken our laundry basket and our bathmat, had gotten bleach on one of towels, left an air conditioning unit on a windowsill and turned it pink with water damage, and had left various sundry clothing items, books and jewelry. And it didn't stop there. We continued to find evidence of her damage and presence long after she left. Part of the deal was that we paid utilities. When we got the electric bill for the month of August, it was $200 more than it had ever been, due to the running of the air conditioning unit 24/7. When we got our cable bill, she had ordered pornos on our TV.

Now for the worst part. Remember that last month's rent that I never received? Well, I never received it...ever. I e-mailed and e-mailed and called. Her number had been discontinued and she never responded to my e-mails. We had her security deposit, but there's no way she would have gotten that back after the damage she left, and we still ended up losing money because of the things we had to replace. She also hadn't returned our keys, which started to freak me out. I finally got kind of urgent in my e-mails regarding the keys. A few days later, the keys showed up in several layers of envelope, with no return address.

Some of my friends and family wanted us to pursue her, try to get her to pay her last month's rent. But honestly, I was just so sick of the whole thing and was so glad to be done with it that I just wanted to close that chapter and forget about her. Annoyingly, we continued to get mail for her for several months, and even found an old package addressed to her when we were packing up to leave, nearly three years later! She just would not be forgotten...

We had all kinds of ideas about what we would do differently the following summer - collecting the whole summer's rent up front, drawing up a contract, having a friend in the city just drop by every now and again, trust our gut instinct, etc. However, Jason ended up getting a job he couldn't and didn't want to leave for the summer, so we never had to deal with that again. Which is good, because I'm not sure I would have had the stomach for it anyway!

* Name has been changed to protect the guilty.

My Cloth Diapering Story: Part 1

2009-10-08T23:10:00.000-07:00

*I started out writing this post as a review of the cloth diapers we use, but as I started to write I realized that it might be helpful for someone out there to here about my reasoning and process in choosing cloth diapers.

Before Cyrus was born, Jason and I talked at length about whether to use disposable or cloth diapers. Throwing away all those disposable diapers just didn't sit well with us, not to mention the chemicals that are in most of the resonably-priced disposables. When I was doing research, I had a hard time finding good information on cloth diapering options and costs, so I'm providing my account for anyone else who might be interested.

So initially, we decided to use a diaper service. When we got to Portland, I looked into Tidee Didee, the only diaper service in the Portland area, as far as I could tell. Well, as environmentally concious as I'd like to be, I will admit that my wallet talks first, and the diaper service was going to cost close to $1,000 for one year! Yikes!

However, we were still really committed to using cloth diapers, so I started exploring other options - mainly, buying a stash of cloth diapers and laundering them myself. But I was worried about the extra work load, the mess and the excess water I would have to use to wash them, not to mention to cost of purchasing all those diapers. So, as is my nature, I dove into researching cloth diapers. I stumbled across a mail-order store located here in Portland that specializes in cloth diapers called Babyworks. Their catalog had tons of information and their salespeople were extremely helpful over the phone, spending over 20 minutes answering my questions before I had even decided to purchase from them. Not only that, but their return policy is amazing - 30 day returns, even if you've used and washed the diapers! They figure you can't tell if they work for you unless you try them. Impressive!

I discovered that there are many options - prefolds with covers, all-in ones, pocket diapers, one-size pocket daipers (and I'm sure I'm leaving a few out). As far as I could tell, the big downfalls with most of the diapering systems were 1) you had to buy them in multiple sizes as your child grew, adding cost and 2) you had to soak them in a big pail, which could get messy.

Enter the one-size pocket diaper. The idea is that the diapers are adjustable through a system of elastic and buttons or velcro and snaps, depending on the brand, and can therefore be used for babies 7lbs to 35 lbs - basically the whole diapering life of an average sized child. This means buying one set to get you through 2+ years of diapering! There are two brands of one size pocket diapers - Fuzzibunz and Bum Genius. Bum Genius uses velcro and snaps, while Fuzzibunz uses elastic and buttons to adjust the size. The Fuzzibunz product is slightly newer on the market.

Well, after some careful math, I realized that purchasing 24 pocket one-size diapers would be cheaper than buying the varying sizes of any of the other diapering systems. After additional research, I decided on the Fuzzibunz over the Bum Genius because it seemed that the Velcro closures on the Bum Genius would likely wear out faster than the snap closures on the Fuzzibunz.

My other issue was the mess. Babyworks recommended a toilet sprayer, a handy little sprayer that attaches to the back of your toilet, allowing you to clean off your dirty diapers before putting them in the hamper without getting your hands dirty. (Let me just add here that the thing works like a power-washer! Even when we've left poopy diapers until the end of the day, they spray off almost completely clean.) And, Fuzzibunz doesn't want you to soak the diapers in a pail, so there went that issue!

Once we had decided to go with cloth diapers, I realized that we would need some other supplies as well. We decided to use reusable wipes (basically just really plush washclothes) instead of disposable wipes, mainly because of cost, so we bought 32 of them. We also bought the diaper sprayer, some flushable diaper liners for when we're out and about, a "dirty duds bag" for the same reason, a washable diaper hamper, and a bottle of diaper detergent that will last us at least 2 years. Now, are you ready for the total cost of all of these supplies, including the 24 diapers?

We spent just under $600 for all of our diapering supplies, which will likely last us until Cy is out of diapers. Now, compared to the $1,000 a year for a diaper service, which doesn't even include some of the things we would have bought anyway, that's at least a $1,400 savings - more if he's in diapers for longer! And, there is a good chance that we can reuse the diapers and some of the other supplies with subsequent children. This might sound good in theory, but does it all work in reality? In Part 2 I'll give you my review of Fuzzibunz diapers and the whole cloth diapering process, as it's gone so far.

Who's your daddy? (or mommy)

2009-10-07T22:22:00.000-07:00

When Cy was first born, pretty much everyone commented on how much he looked like Jason or a member of Jason's family. Now as he's growing and changing, I'm trying to see if it looks like I had anything to do with him. Check out the picture comparisons below. Who do you think Cyrus most resembles?

In the top picture are Jason and his twin brother Brian. Jason is on the left (denoted by the penned in J). Below is Cyrus is the same shirt. Check out those profiles!

In the top picture is me at around 6 months. In the bottom picture is Cyrus at around 2.5 months. Well, we at least seem to share some temperament...

Ahh, here we go. Now we see the similarities! Check out those pouts! I guess he did get a little something from me after all!

The thing that makes me feel like a bad parent

2009-10-06T21:53:00.000-07:00

I can't figure out naps. Not my own - I've had those down for years - but Cyrus's. I want to be careful how loudly I complain about this because so far nighttime sleep has been managable and I don't want some cosmic force out there to show me just how bad it could be by taking away my blissfully easy evenings.

That being said, I spend the better part of my day trying to a) figure out if Cyrus is tired, b) find that "magic time" when he supposedly will go down without crying, and then when I miss it (which I do almost all the time), c) try to get him to go to sleep.

Some people may argue that if he's not sleeping during the day then he must not be tired. But the thing is, when he gets enough sleep, he is a nearly perfect baby. He rarely cries, he smiles happily, he is a joy to be around. However, when he doesn't get enough sleep he spends most of his day fussing and has very little happy time.

Cyrus at about 4 weeks...back when naps were easy!

The worst part is that everything keeps changing! Again, I don't want to complain too loudly, because I do realize just how much worse this could be, but he has had stretches of two weeks or so at a time where naps are almost seemless. That's how I know what he can be like. But a little switch goes off every two weeks or so and I find myself in a day like today. He refused to nap for more than 45 minutes at a time, and all but once woke up screaming. When I nursed and rocked him into an almost sleep state and then put him in his crib, he began screaming again, as if he knew what was coming and just wasn't having any of it. But because I know he needs sleep, and he won't sleep in my arms anymore, I have to leave him in his crib to cry. (This is the part where I feel like a terrible parent). He eventually falls asleep after fussing, crying and cooing off and on for 20 minutes or so, only to wake up 40 minutes later, whereby I watch the clock and him, trying again to pinpoint that supposed magic time, and then start the whole process all over again!

Part of my problem is that I am just so darned concerned about doing it right. And although I logically know that it is unlikely, I keep fearing that I will mess him up forever. Now if the cycle repeats itself, he should be back to napping well again in a week or so...but what if that doesn't happen? I realize that I am exposing my naivety as a parent, but I keep worrying that this current state will last forever and that I'll go bonkers.

And yet what I keep coming back to is why will he go to sleep so easily at night (universe, please don't shoot me down for this), but refuse to take naps? And, why will he take naps for a while and then stop? Does anyone have any answers for this? I welcome any and all suggestions!

Five Reasons why I Don't Miss the Bronx

2009-10-05T21:26:00.000-07:00

In the months leading up to our move out of the big apple, Jason and I spent quite a bit of time discussing all of the things we were looking forward to about moving to Portland. Now that we've been out of New York City for a full seven months it's sometimes too easy to forget just how much better life is out here in the Northwest. So, just to remind myself, here are five reasons why I'm glad we don't live there anymore!

1. Parking. I have my own parking spot, and it's all mine! I no longer have to weigh how much I want to go on a particular outing (grocery shopping, the gym, etc) with how willing (or unwilling) I am to give up my current parking spot. I no longer have to worry that if I return home later than about 6pm, I may have to circle the block for anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour and a half. (I wish this was an exageration, but it really isn't - on more than one ocassion we clocked an extra five miles just looking for a parking spot within a five bock radius). And, in order to get a gauranteed parking spot, I don't have to pay $250 a month!

2. Street Cleaning. Related to point #1, but most definitely deserving of it's own point, is that we no longer have to move our car a minimum of three times a week for street cleaning. Yes, that's right, once we found a spot, even if it was right outside of our building and we didn't have anywhere to go for several days, the longest it could possibly stay where it was was four days, and only if it fell over a weekend. Too many times we would find a perfectly good spot after circling for 20 or 30 minutes, only to have to get up at 6:30 or 7 the next morning to find a spot on the opposite side of the street, which could again result in another 20 or 30 minutes of circling. (Wow, I'm feeling all kinds of stressed out just remembering the parking hoopla!)

3. Laundry. I can do laundry any old time of the day I want to, and I can do it in my pajamas! In my first apartment in New York, there was no laundry facility, so I had to take my clothes to a laundromat. In those days, I did not have a car, so I had to haul my stuff around the block. I couldn't very well leave my laundry there, so I had to sit and wait for it to wash and then dry. In our second apartment, we had laundry facilities in our building, but it was almost as if we didn't. See, for some reason, the building managers locked the laundry room at 7pm. Now this might not seem terribly late in the grand scheme of things, but the thing is, we rarely, and in fact, most people in New York rarely, got home before 6 at the very earliest, and an hour is just not enough time to wash and dry your laundry. So, we had to do it on the weekends with every other person in the building who also worked too late to utilize it during the week. Which means, we had to fight for washers and dryers, which wouldn't have been so bad if all six of each worked all of the time - but they almost never did! In fact, the building managers seemed to have a policy that four of one machine had to be broken before someone could come in and fix them. Jason and I seriously considered breaking a fourth machine when we were down to three just so that they would all get fixed (we never did, but we came close). Again, the stress is building at the mere thought!

4. The Subway. Actually, more specifically, the walk to the subway. We lived about 10 minutes from our subway stop, which isn't such a bad walk when the weather is nice...However, the weather is often not nice, and bad weather is just made worse when you have to walk through it! Though it doesn't rain in NYC nearly as often as it does here in Portland, when it rains in NY it rains hard! And, remember, we then had to walk to work in it! There's only so much waterproofing you can do while dressed in work appropriate attire. Then sometimes, it was bitterly, bitterly cold. So cold, in fact, that more than once I actually wimpered while walking to the train! Then there was trying to dress for the weather outside while taking into account the temperature on the subway. For some reason, even though nearly everyone walks through the elements to get to a train, the trains were never set to a temperature that took into account what we had to wear on the walk. So if it was bitterly cold outside and we were bundled up in layers, the subway car would be set to a living-room-appropriate temperature of 75 degrees! Ugh. Yuck.

5. Having control over the temperature of my living quarters. In our Bronx apartment we had radiator heat. Now, with most radiators, you can adjust them with a little nob on the radiator. However, in our building, the super had decided that those nobs were too easy to break, so he just removed them. This wouldn't be so bad, except that the heat was routinely set to about 85 degrees during the winter! So warm, in fact, that having the windows open did nothing. Yeah, those windows that let in that same bitterly cold air, did nothing to the temperature of our apartment! We finally had to simply shut off our radiators all together - it was all or nothing.

Wow. I have a renewed gratefulness for having left New York! There were good things about living there, and there are actually things that I miss, but I'll save those for another post.

Lazy Sunday and a Little Perspective

2009-10-04T20:35:00.000-07:00

It is rare that I get to spend a day relaxing at home with my husband, with no errands to run or tasks to complete. Although I have some time to relax during the week when Cy is sleeping, I am at his total beck and call during the work day. Saturdays are usually spent either running errands or trying to get in some fun family time away from the house. And on Sundays, Cy and I spend the afternoon at church. But today was General Conference (a special broadcast church service that happens twice a year), so I didn't have to go anywhere today. And, since Jason was home, I had a partner in meeting Cy's demands. The greatest part about this was that I got to sleep in until 10:30am (after a 6:30am feeding) for the first time since Cy was born! Now, I don't need to sleep in often, and I usually tried to get up at a decent hour even before he was born, but on occasion, sleeping in just feels luxurious. Once awake, I then got to spend a good portion of the day in my pajamas, just lounging around.

Another bonus about today: it put a little perspective on things for me, in kind of an odd sort of way. Although I love being with Cy, sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming to be the one person who can meet his needs, especially when I am with him all day by myself. On some days, I find myself just counting down the minutes until he goes down for a nap so that I can do something for myself: take a shower, eat some lunch, check my e-mail. When Jason is home, however, he loves spending time with Cy so much that, unless he needs to eat, Cy is pretty much with Jason most of the time. So, today, for example, I had so much time to do things for myself that I actually found myself almost missing him. I found that I cherished the few moments cuddling with him after a feeding before I handed him over to Jason, partly because I knew that I didn't have to hold him. I hope this makes sense, and that I don't sound like a terrible mother. I do love my child, but it was just kind of nice to have a day when being with him was completely a choice, and still one that I wanted to make.

Now, if only I can keep this perspective as we go into the work week...

Three Things I Heard But Didn't Believe About Being a New Mom

2009-10-03T21:01:00.005-07:00

It's funny how you can hear things sometimes, and know that they are probably true, and yet somewhere in the back of your head, you just think they won't apply to you. When I was pregnant, this happened a lot in regards to what my life would be like as a new mom. Now that my baby is here, I've realized just how true these things are:

1. You will be tired

You know, I knew that an essential element of being a new parent was surviving sleep deprivation. I knew that I wouldn't get much sleep and that I would feel pretty tired at first. But here's the thing - I've been tired before! I ran a summer camp for the past five summers, a really intense summer camp with challenging children and overworked staff in a brutal, wilderness environment. I routinely worked 18 hour days, and during staff training, often survived on just 4 hours of sleep. I got awoken in the middle of the night or early, early in the morning for various emergencies - I figured that I was perhaps more prepared for this sleep-deprived state than most

I was wrong.

I didn't know tired until I brought that baby home. Part of it I'm sure is that I started off the whole being a new mom thing by having to recover from a c-section after undergoing 50+ hours of labor and over two days with little more than a few hours sleep (that story to come soon). The first few nights in the hospital were rough because I had to wake Cy up every two hours to feed him, and by the third night my milk hadn't come in but he was hungry! By the time we got home, I didn't know what to do with myself, I was so tired. In fact, I think there should be a new word for the kind of exhausted that comes with being a new parent. Something like, close-to-death-don't-know-my-own-name-what-time-of-day-is-it-again-tired. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for that feeling.

2. They change fast

Well of course they change fast, I thought, they are little babies, they are growing and developing every all the time. Right. They change every day! And not in subtle ways, in big ways! What I didn't realize was that as soon as I thought I had a routine, or knew what worked for him, he changed it up on me! What worked in the morning didn't work in the evening. Oh, he's taking two three-hour naps a day this week? Don't worry, next week he won't sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time, and it will take you three hours just to get him to go to sleep! Perhaps what I didn't believe wasn't how fast he would change, but rather just how much his rapid change would affect me.

3. Don't expect to be in pre-pregnancy clothes for a while

This is the one that I haven't yet overcome. I just can't get over it. I mean, I knew it would be tough to shed the weight, but I didn't anticipate how much the shape of my body would change. Not only am I wearing a significantly larger size than I used to just so that I can stop wearing maternity pants, my clothes fit differently altogether. When I told Jason this, he laughed and said, "Oh, now you'll have to get Mom jeans." Except, the thing is, I've discovered that so-called mom jeans aren't a particular style of pant...it's just the way all pants look on a mom's body! No matter what style I buy, they look like "mom jeans"! I guess I figured that if I exercised and ate well I'd be able to slide back into my pre-pregancy clothes in a matter of months. Now, I'm just happy to be in anything non-maternity, no matter the size.

Were there things that threw you off about being a new parent? What are things that you heard but didn't believe?