Random Thoughts

Ever since having children, my brain no longer works in complete thoughts. It's more like this:

• Oh man, I've got to send an amended tax return.


• What's up with the snow? Snow, really?


• I think my tummy has gotten bigger since taking a few days off from running. Or maybe it's that entire carrot cake I ate.


• Thinking of running, who can I get to train for the marathon with me.


• That's weird that my neighbor thinks it's dishonest to not pay for a three year old to get into Disneyland . . . but she uses her friend's season pass.


• Is it a bad sign that the Pioneer Woman was in my dream last night?


• I don't feel like cleaning up the house. It's so completely pointless. It never stays clean. But oh yeah, I read an article once that said that children grow up better with order. And oh yeah, I took a class in college that taught that it wasn't the clean house but the cleaning with family that was worth it. Sigh.


• I just want to read a good book. But I can't find one. That's free, at least. I only read books that I borrow (or steal.)


• Thinking of stealing . . . I think I stole that pen from that Realtor at Daybreak.


• Wow, Daybreak . . . that was a tiring waste.


• Thinking about moving/buying/building/selling a house stresses me out. What does this say about me. I must have neurotic tendencies.


• State convention is next week. I sure hope Neil Walter wins.


• I just read that article that said that delegates are more conservative than the voting base. VALIDATION! We've been saying for years that we've gotta get less psychos going to the convention. He, he.


• Families can be whacked. I wonder which things my kids are going to think are whacked.


• Man, I am a lazy bum for sitting here instead of doing something productive.

See, I should write a Faulkner-esque book because I can only think in stream of consciousness anyway.

Hungry?

Of course . . . . .

Wouldn't you be vain too if you looked like this? Just kidding.

Growing Up Girl

In my family, there are four boys and two girls. It just so happens that my sister is 12 years younger than me; she turned nine the day that I got married. I grew up mostly surrounded by brothers and didn't try to be girly--that didn't come naturally to me. I could out eat, out run, and out yell most of the boys in the neighborhood.

Flash forward 25 years and now I am raising my own little girl. Alisa is three coming up on four. This morning she asked me if I thought she should be a princess. I replied, "Yes . . . or maybe a pilot who flies airplanes . . . . or a teacher . . . . or an interior decorator. Now that would be fun." Her reply was, "ok, let's stop there." Little did I know that she was really asking me if I thought it was a good time to play dress-up.

Alisa seems to have a strong predisposition to notice the outward image of people. At her three-year check-up, she told the doctor that she was fat. I wide-eyed told the doctor that she didn't get that from me. At least, I sure hope not. He said it was probably media images.

And then last month as we were getting dressed she said, "I bet Sophia won't wear something pretty to school today. Me, and Bella, and Emma always wear pretty clothes but not Sophia." Of course, I was appalled. I explained to her that we can be friends with people no matter what their clothes look like. Or for what they look like at all, for that matter.

Admittedly, Alisa is quite good with clothes. Not that she always chooses the best outfits but that she really does know what she wants. Many times I will go in her room, choose an outfit, and try to put in on her only have her say, "well, mom, I was thinking I would wear my button down jumper with my pink flowered shirt." Or, "actually, I wanted to wear my skirt and shirt that have the buttons all over." To her, going to school not looking nice is tantamount to sinning.

During the winter, it was skirts and dresses on even the worst days. One particularly freezing morning, I convinced her to wear a brown, velour, Nike track suit. She put it on but immediately regretted it.

"I hate this. I can't go to school like this!" she cried. I gently coaxed her to get in the car by telling her that we would ask her teacher if she thought she looked OK for school. On the way there, she intermittently cried and sighed and said she would not go in. I eventually persuaded her to get out of the car and thought that I had finally won the battle. But then, she would not let go of my hand no matter what anyone said to her. Finally the teacher told her that she had a princess dress she could wear over her clothes. That got her in. I threw up my hands in defeat and left. When I went to pick her up from school, I asked her if she really did wear a princess dress. She said yes but that when she got to wear one, all the other girls in the class wanted to wear one too. So the teacher had to get out dresses for everyone.

Oh, I felt really bad about that. After that, I gave up the clothes fight.

I never realized that it would be a challenge to strike a balance between teaching your girl to take care of her body and clothes but not judge others by their appearance. Of course, young children tend to look at things as black and white so I think I still have a chance when she learns to discern the shades of grey.

Camera Phobia

I got a new camera for Christmas--a "real" camera with lots of options and dials. It sorta scares me. When I tore off the wrapping paper, I didn't want to open the box. Can you tell I'm not good with gadgets? Diego encouraged me to just start playing with it and enjoy it. It has an automatic setting after all. Any dummy can use "auto" right? Well, I have discovered three things about photography.

1. I don't have a natural eye for framing and lighting photography.

2. Great shots don't just happen--you have to think about the composition.

3. I like this a lot more that I thought I would.

I am still overwhelmed by all the things you can do to make your shots better but Diego told me to just learn one thing at a time. I can get so bogged down in what I'm doing that I get flustered. And then again, I have already forgotten what I've learned. So, I just keeping shooting and being grateful for digital photography that can make dummies like me get a decent shot.

So here's what you get when:

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1. You leave the laundry door open.

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2. Your three year old puts on make-up.

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3. You don't fold the laundry for two weeks.

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4. You decide to MAKE Valentines because it will be "fun."

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These aren't the "best" shots that I have taken but I like the stories these tell.

Happy Birth Day

Jackson is coming up on the one year mark--just a few more days. The one year is significant in my mind because it is the move from baby to toddler. He seems especially mature because he is a walking pro. My other children chose not to walk until 13 months. Because this is his first birthday, I can't help but reflect upon what was happening at this time last year. So, since I never blogged about his birth story, I have decided to do it now. You can skip to the pictures if you don't want the blow by blow version.

At this time last year, I was largely pregnant and very uncomfortable. I was trying to be patient knowing that infants come with their own challenges but my body just wasn't cooperating. It was very uncomfortable to stand for long, but also uncomfortable to sit for long. For that matter, it was uncomfortable to lay down for too long. And the transition from each position was even more painful as the tendons and ligaments in my torso and hips stretched and moaned. On February 23rd I was getting ready for bed and said to Diego, "I can't believe I have another week to wait. This baby literally feels like he is going to fall out of me."

During the night, on one of my many trips to the bathroom, I felt a strange sensation and immediately thought my water had broken. Since, I wasn't having contractions, I decided to go back to bed. At 6:30, Diego started stirring and I awoke him and told him what had happened. The conversation went something like this:

"Diego?"
"Hmmm?"

"I think my water broke last night."

"Ok."

Pause, pause.

"What did you just say again?"

"I think my water broke."

"Uhhh, aren't you supposed to go to the hospital or something?"

I just wasn't sure . . . this had never happened before. I called the midwife who was even less convinced that something was happening. However, she sent me to get checked anyway. Still no contractions.

I went to the hospital at 8:00 in the morning with Diego and the kids. They said "no water leaking." Still no contractions. Sent home. On the way home, a few little contractions came but I wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking. (For me, the end of pregnancy is so uncomfortable that a few weak contractions barely register on the pain radar.)

Diego went to work and I decided to take my children to the park. It was the end of February and there were snow crusties and ice on the playground. The kids didn't care though . . . they were just happy to be outside. Contractions started coming a bit more as I was walking about playing with the kids. When a big one would come I would go sit on the bench and then they would stop altogether. My mother called me to see how I was doing. I told her I was having some contractions but wasn't sure if it was the real thing. She told me to keep track of how often they were coming anyway. (My mom is very experienced with birth and has worked for years with pregnant and laboring women.)

Half an hour later, my mom called me again and I said contractions were coming at regular intervals. Out of her own free will, she decided to leave the legislative luncheon that she was at to come be with me for a bit. It was a good thing she did because by the time she got here, I couldn't get my kids lunch and during contractions, couldn't move. Even then, I still wasn't sure I was "really" in labor so I hadn't called Diego to come home. After all, it had only been about two hours since I sent him to work. However, once my mom saw me, she convinced me that it was time to head to the hospital.

Diego came. We left. She took my kids to her house. I was admitted to the hospital less than four hours after leaving. I was dilated to about a 6. Unfortunately, I had to wait for the anesthesiologist for awhile in which time I became completely sure I was in real labor. The pain was much more severe than my other two labors and at one point I even said, "I don't think I can do this."But then, I sucked it up because really, you don't have any choice, right?

Eventually, the anesthesiologist came wheeling in his little cart of sharp needles. As he came through the door, we heard the nurses yell, "No, not her. Number 2 has been here all morning." The anesthesiologist replied very sternly, "this one is farther along and I can't wait too much longer or it will be too late." Oh, heaven bless that rude, headstrong anesthesiologist.

An hour later, I pushed three times to meet a perfect, complete baby boy. So sweet. We say he is made from sugar. (As a side note, Nicolas says that if Jackson is sugar than he, Nicolas, must be pepper.)

We had a beautiful honeymoon period with the baby and then the ensuing weeks proved to be challenging in multiple ways. We worked through the hard parts and barely remember them and just focus on the fun-loving bundle of sugar that is part of my family.

Cabin Fever

I don't have anything to say. Nope nothin'. But I just can't stand the thought of having my current post being about Christmas. I'm done with Christmas. I'm over it. And I don't want to see it again for many months. I must not be a kid anymore.

Right now I am in the winter doldrums. Oh January. Why must you be so long? I'm tired of running with snow in my face and squishy wet shoes. I'm tired of worrying about bad air. I'm tired of staying inside all the time. Wouldn't it be nice to go on a little picnic in the park right about now? And I can't figure out how to get away for a day to go skiing. I've got this baby who only wants mom to put him down for naps. Maybe I just need to wean him already and be done with the whole mess. Yeah, that sounds good. Only, I don't believe the task can be completed before the end of the apex of the ski season. I might only be able to squeeze in one slushy spring run. I'm driving Diego crazy with the whole thing but I feel sort of stuck.

So, I am taking refuse from the winter in cookbooks, food blogs and such. Becoming a foodie in the sedentary winter is probably not the best idea but I just feel so cooped up, you know.

Oh yeah, I did have one idea today. I need to run a half marathon in the spring to get me motivated. Anyone know of a close half I could run in the spring?

To top it all off, our landlord emailed the other day and said she is going to drop by for a visit on Monday. Just for a short inspection. That might be fine for regular people but I am in no position to have my closets and medicine cabinets scrutinized. We live with barely controlled chaos around here. And although I am taking impeccable care of the house itself, I'm not sure that she will be able to see it. The thought of having it all clean at the same moment sends shudders through my body. It would be so easy for me to clean it now and be done with it . . . three little kids later it would be just as filthy by then. Everything has to be cleaned within the last hour of someone entering. That's how bad it's gotten.

Yesterday Alisa went to school in the morning while Jackson napped. Nicolas was at school too so I had two blissful hours of silence. I took the opportunity to shower and clean the kitchen. By 11:30 it was all done and I was sitting in awe just looking around. By 3:30 Alisa had thrown moon sand all around the kitchen (she said it looked like fireworks), Jackson had dumped the dishwasher silverware basket and completely emptied one cupbboard. Meanwhile Nicolas had been playing in the snow and tracked mud/slush all around the house while systematically stripping his wet clothing. AND all three of them were yelling at me to let them have cookies. Is this what I signed up for? I could laugh if every day wasn't like that.

See one more plug for summer . . . . kids spend the day outside too.

Holiday Pictures

CHRISTMAS EVE


Tracking Santa Around the World (Nicolas and Jackson)


Building Puzzles (Mark and Michael)


Food (Dad, Mom, Patti)


Nativity Story (Alisa, Jackson, Nicolas, Michael, David, Mark, Kristen, Patti)


Adriel, Alisa, Isabel

CHRISTMAS DAY


Mayhem at Midnight


Nicolas was the only child of mine awake at midnight to open his presents


A very tired Alisa opening presents after the sun came up


Jackson opening his one present (babies don't need presents, right?)


Alisa in a new dress-up


Nicolas trying out his binoculars


I got this--don't ask me how to use it


Diego making breakfast. When he saw this picture, he said "whoa hair!" I guess he didn't know he looked like this that morning.

NEW YEARS EVE
Snowshoeing in the backyard