Wearing Grandma's Glasses

I haven't posted in a while, which is not unusual for me, but getting "back on the saddle" means overcoming some inertia. I start to ask myself, "Why am I writing this (blog)? What do I have to say?", and more importantly, "how can I say it without sounding too negative?" The latter is my challenge in writing and in life, which is why Mike and I compliment eachother so well. He wears the rose tinted glasses; I wear the blue. Together, we may see the world more clearly. I'm really missing Mike right now; he's in Boston, on business.

On the homeowner front, I'm learning how quickly money can disappear on things that don't affect the cosmetic or enjoyment level of the house. Our home inspection turned up potential hazards: carbon monoxide from the chimney, radon in the basement, and asbestos in some heating pipes. Luckily, the seller is compassionate enought to pay for removing these deadly gases and airborne particles, probably because we have a kid. The irony is, she has unknowingly lived with these silent hazards for 38 years and appears to be in fine health. A little knowledge is a scary thing. I'm now wondering if our current rental home has radon, and in how many previous homes did we breath the stuff without even knowing? Radon accounts for most of the cases of lung cancer in this country that are not caused by smoking! We have all heard of non-smokers acquiring lung cancer...could that have been why?

I'm reminded of Joe Jackson's song, "Everything gives you Cancer", when I'm tempted to take all of this too seriously. But without Mike here to ground me, my mind is a very dangerous place. Of course airline travel is safer than traveling by car, but that doesn't stop me from worrying endlessly about Mike's safety while he's away.

Not only would I miss the guy terribly, but I DON'T EVER WANT TO BECOME A SINGLE PARENT! Single parents of the world, I applaud you! How can you remain patient and loving, not knowing when someone, anyone, is coming to spell you... to allow you to finish a load of dishes, or even go to the bathroom (in peace)?

Fortunately, uncle Karl and Gram have given Andy the extra love and attention that Mike would have provided. We are going to miss having them right down the street! We miss Jessica already, who is back up in Humboldt County, working on her degree in kinesiology (go Jess!)

Andy is busy exercising his freedoms as an independent human being. He's been living off juice, cheese and yogurt. (Can that sustain life?) He is surprising me with his vocabulary every day, but the untrained ear might not pick up his new words, since they are very content specific: wheel, hose, ax, ladder, lights. Can anyone guess his latest obsession?

Whoooo-ooooo, whooooo-ooooo, ding, ding! Firetrucks, that's right!

And dancing. Andy likes Zoe's song on his "Seseme Street Friend's Singalong" Book. He'll press the button and run across the room, throwing up his arms, and attempting to gain some air. His feet rise a mere inch or so off the ground, making the whole dance even more comical. Oh, and the words to the song? "She loves dancing in her tutu for her friends..." The tune is actually "She'll be coming around the Mountain." I don't think we'll be getting him a tutu anytime soon... not that there's anything wrong with that.

Easter/Pascha

How many kids get to celebrate Easter twice? Well, if one set of grandparents is Roman Catholic, and the other set of grandparents is Eastern Orthodox, that's exactly the winning combination: twice the Easter candy, twice the egg hunts, twice the fun!
(Notice I didn't say "twice the church services". This is where having a small, whiny toddler comes in handy: "Sorry, grandparents, we just won't be able to make the sunrise mass this year...""Um, grandparents, I think the three hour divine liturgy from midnight to 3 am would be too upsetting to his schedule...".)

In addition to celebrating Easter and birthdays during our whirlwind trip to Pittsburgh, we managed to fall in love with an 85 year old home, and then try to talk ourselves out of falling in love with it. But, our romantic hearts prevailed. The allure of city living in an older, established neighborhood was too great. The home spoke to us of family, of love, and...I'm hesitant to admit this...of putting down roots. This is a home we could happily live in for many years to come--six bedrooms, four baths--with project after project to make it our own.

We met the current owner, Katherine, a woman in her 70's or 80's, who raised three children in the home. When we made our offer back in California, over the phone, Katherine asked to speak with us. "I'm so happy you'll be getting my home, and raising your baby here," she said. When someone else tried to make her an offer three hours later, she told them "Sorry, I've just entered an agreement with somebody else"!

Mike and I feel very strongly that everything has worked together for the good. We're hopeful that the home inspection and closing will go smoothly for us. Mike is loving his new job. The house on Darlington Rd. is less than a block away from a bus stop. Mike will take a ten minute bus ride to work! (This beats an hour commute over Hwy. 17!) Within a half a mile, Andy and I can walk to a grocery store, a large public library, the doctor's office, a movie theater, a community center, and many restaurants. In the other direction, a large city park, with trails and an environmental center, is three blocks away. A large playground lies at the end of this park, with a famous "blue slide", where children fly down on cardboard boxes.

Those offers to come and visit us? I'm going to hold you to them! We will miss everyone terribly, and those offers of visits are sustaining me through this enormous change.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Today we leave for a week in Pittsburgh. We've got some houses lined up to see in the eastern part of the city, with our realtor, Bob. Neighborhoods like Squirrel Hill, Point Breeze, Regent Square and Edgewood. The architectural choices are endless: tudor, victorian, colonial, arts and crafts, cape cod. In California we're mostly limited to ranch style homes (if limited is the right word; we could never afford them!!) I love the older homes, with their bricks and shutters, their porches and wood-pained windows.

So, I'm excited to have this opportunity. I'm glad to be closer to Mike's family, so that Andy and I can get to know them better. Mike is on Cloud 9, returning to his roots, working at the job of his dreams! This, in turn, makes me happy.

But, I can't help but feel sad about leaving my family, my friends, and the familiar and loved places of the bay area and Santa Cruz mountains.

Don't know when I'll be back again...Oh, babe, I hate to go...

Learning to share

...but sometimes, Spit Happens. (Check out Ben's bib!)

Ben's turn...

Andy's turn...

"MINE!"

Andy and Ben have been "hanging out" (drooling over the same blanket) since they were 2 months and 1 month, respectively. It was just this last Sunday that they began playing together, actually sharing toys instead of parallel play. Both sets of parents couldn't have been more pleased. This new stage is SO much fun.

ISO...

To be posted in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:*
Wanted: A Best Friend. Confidante and walking partner, coffee or tea drinker, mother or child-friendly Grown-Up. Must be willing to hang out without a shower or make-up, wearing jeans crusted with peanut butter, on a kitchen floor covered with crumbs. Must be willing to interrupt conversation with "don't put that in your mouth!" or "get down from there!" Must be willing to read the book Everyone Poops for the tenth time in one day. Must be candid and forthcoming about your past, must want to share your hopes and dreams about the future.

You are especially encouraged to respond if: you have a slightly self-depricating sense of humor, you are somewhat anxious or neurotic, if the traits you most despise in others are pretentiousness and snobbery, if you enjoy the following authors and publications: Anne Lammott, Sarah Vowell, Jane Austen, Mothering Magazine, Brain Child, Sun, Yes! and Ode.

You may be of a different race, religion, or sexual orientation. You may be crunchier than I am and never shave your armpits. You may wear blue eyeshadow, enjoy football or a juicy steak (even though I do not). However, please do NOT apply if you are Republican, pro-Bush (the president) or think the war in Iraq is a Good Idea. Please do not apply if you were ever with the "in" crowd in highschool. You should identify more with the main character from Welcome to the Dollhouse than with any of the Heathers from Heathers, and you understand both of these references.

Reply to box ISOaBF

*only kidding, but on the other hand....why not? I met Mike through a personal ad. I haven't had a "best" friend in a long time...

The one and a half year old

Happy 18 month birthday, Andy!



Prepared for more rain! March was a very wet month.

Friends

Note from Andy

"Truck! TRUCK TRUCK TRUCK! Truck.... Ball? Ball! Ball BALL!"

"SIDE? SIDE! outSIDE! SIDE! SIDE! Truck?!"

"Choo Choo! CHOO CHOO! Ball? Truck!"

"No no. NOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOO. No! NO NO! Side?"

"Ehl-mo. Ehl-mo. EHLMO TRUCK! TRUCK! TRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"


"....peeze?"

Tastes like Chicken

Our son is no longer a vegetarian. He ate a chicken flavored dog biscuit today.

Why would any self-respecting parent allow her son a dog biscuit, let alone admit to it? Well, start thinking of the most annoying sound you’ve ever heard--like when you were little and your Saturday morning cartoons were interrupted by the high pitched “eeeeeeeeeeeeeee” from the Public Broadcasting System--then amplify this sound by 1,000, and you’ll begin to have some idea why I gave into Andy’s cries for one of Lucy’s dog biscuits.

Our morning went something like this: Andy woke up and wanted to watch his Fire Truck video. I let him watch it once. As soon as the credits rolled, he was overcome with devastation. The world would end if he couldn't watch that Fire Truck vide just one more time! My lighthearted “all done!” wasn't working, so I desperately looked for a distraction. Then I spied them: Lucy’s organic Newman’s Own Dog Buscuits on the counter.

“Look Andy, pictures of doggies. See the doggies? Here’s one that looks like Lucy.”
Sure enough, the bag of treats piqued Andy's curiosity, but not because of the picture on the package. He saw COOKIES inside!

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

“Yucky. These are for Lucy. Yucky for Andy.” I tried my best, but his demands not only continued, but increased in pitch and volume.

So, I read the ingredients. Nothing that could really harm him. I’ll give him a taste, he’ll realize how terrible it is, and he’ll believe my word from now on. This was my thinking when I handed him the heart shaped dog biscuit.

And so my story ends with Andy happily toddling around the house, carniverously devouring every chicken-flavored morsel of his dog biscuit.

Brrrr...

The weather has taken a turn for the worse. The bay area is experiencing about the same temperature as Pittsburgh right now--warm for a Pennsylvania winter. This has me very worried... if I can't get out of the house to walk or jog in a relative heat spell, then what are my prospects for next winter?

But that's my mind getting ahead of itself, as it often wants to do. My thoughts and I have not been friends these past few days. My thoughts have been preoccupied with domestic tribulations: who knew that an apple-juice soaked down comforter would require two hundred minutes in the tumble cycle in order to dry? And, why oh why did we spend $25 on Chinese herbs that our immune system-challenged toddler refuses to take? The putrid smelling herbs may, in fact, be a healthier alternative to antibiotics, but how are we ever to know if we can't get Andy to take them?

I guess we'll just go back to the acupuncturist next week. Andy will exercise his lungs for another hour, while she (Chinese acupuncturist) bribes him with sweet herb candy and pokes him with a few more needles. We'll drive home, and put the exhausted boy to bed. He'll pass out for over 3 and a half hours.....! And Mike and I will agree that was the best money we ever spent.

Beach Day

It sure didn't feel like the middle of winter last Saturday in Santa Cruz! Andy spent the afternoon at Natural Bridges State Beach with his grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousin.

Mike and I gave up the paperback novel in hand, relaxed day at the beach of times past, in favor of chasing our sand-throwing toddler. When will he sit still long enough to make a sand castle?

Andy's Twin

Andy with his Pop at the wharf in Monterey. The fogginess is from a yogurt smear on the camera lense...


Helping Mommy make breakfast yesterday.

Don't Call CPS

Mike is returning home from Orlando Florida late tonight. He's on his last official NASA speaking engagement. Is it a bittersweet moment for him? Nah--he's relieved to get out of there. NASA Ames is a sinking ship, he tells me, and we have this administration to thank. Bush wants to go to the moon, but won't invest in the science that would make the endeavor worthwhile.

Anyway, Mike's gone. Andy is asleep (yesss!) So what's a lonely gal to do?

It was a toss-up between watching the first season of The Gillmore Girls on DVD, and catching up on my favorite mommy blogs. I chose the latter, and now have to add my own two cents on the experience of mothering.

Here is the diaper changing trick that has changed our world (please don't call Child Protective Services):


That's right, no more somersaulting toddler catapulting himself from the changing table! He is helplessly pinned beneath the weight of Dad's thigh; it is useless to resist! Useless!

Mike really likes this technique; he thinks it's some sort of ancient Judo hold. I'm happy to have both hands free to do the dirty business. I can't take credit for the maneuver, however. Thanks go to Kristin from the Boulder Creek Walking Moms.

More excitement regarding Andy's language development... A few days ago, when Mike asked Andy if he was ready to turn around after a long walk, the little guy pointed down the road and signed "more". After such a display, what could Mike do but keep plodding along?

And...today, after Andy and I played "This little piggy" with his toes, he looked up at me with a grin, signing "more"! We must have played about a dozen times before I passed out.

He's an awfully persuasive little signer.

The Boy who would live in a bubble

Our three weeks of wellness and fairly decent sleep came to an end last night, when Andy was overtaken with yet another cold and fever.

In his brief span of good health, he enjoyed many baby and toddler visits: seeing baby Hayley, hosting baby Cayenne overnight, attending 2 year old Olivia's birthday party, and hanging out with Elijah, Alyssa and Avery. We had plenty of park visits and hosted our first playdate yesterday with the "Boulder Creek Walking Moms".

So, somewhere in this drool covered toy exchange, some kid infected my kid. And then, unknowingly, my kid infected other kids. We'd have to never leave the house again to avoid this cycle. And not leaving the house equals mommy in the loony bin. So, we'll take our chances with the cold and flu season.

On the bright side, Andy is getting better and better at communicating with us. Even though he can't ask us to take his temperature, he has no problem asking for his comfort items: "bi" (binky), "juice", and of course, "Elmo" (which is often the first word on his lips in the morning...)

Some other new words include "stick" (he's really fond of chasing our neighborhood cats with the fallen tree branches), "Cy-cy" (for Lucy the Pug), "Duck" (after a visit to the pond), and "moooon" (after being convinced it was more than a "ball" in the sky).


Andy's signs are more exciting for us than his words, probably because we made a greater effort to teach them: lots of "more", and "hot", and sometimes "cheese" and "hurt".

And I can't fail to mention the car, truck, train and farm animal noises. He's pretty good at them. He can even do an elephant. That's not a talent I can claim. He must have got that from his dad.

C is for Cookie

Our son is addicted to gingersnaps. They're the no trans-fat, Swedish variety, but still a cookie. Somehow, I can't bring myself to deny him this pleasure. Aren't they wholesome? They're brown and sweetened with molasses. A cookie my grandmother would approve of. So, when Andy requests gingersnaps for breakfast, lunch and dinner, he receives them. But when the bag is finished, I don't intend to buy more. We'll have to go the "Elmo" route, feigning a puzzled look: Elmo, who's that? Cookies, what cookies?

(I haven't posted in several weeks, and this is what I come back with...gingersnaps...)

Since my world is about to be turned completely upside down in a few short months, I've been trying to focus on the little pleasures in life. Those pleasures that will stay the same. There will be plenty of gingersnaps and Seseme Street in Pittsburgh. It's not as if we're moving to Antarctica (although the winter wear would be the same.) And Andy would love those penguins.

The truth is, I'm excited to experience the seasons, and life on the other coast. With housing prices among the lowest in the nation, we'll be able to afford a lovely home. Our own home! To become homeowners in the bay area, I would have to work full time. And all we can afford is a one bedroom condo in East San Jose. (No thanks.)

In the meantime, Andy is my example of living in the moment. In his world, there is no shortage of love, Elmo and cookies.

16 months old today!

Patience...

Patience, and more patience....(Deep breaths; trying not to hyperventilate.)

Oooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Oooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmm

That's all today. Sorry, no pictures. You really wouldn't want to see where my lense was aimed, anyway.

Discovery

Painting with (and sometimes on) Avery at the Children's Discovery Museum of San Jose

A Picture and a Thousand Words

This photo is quite revealing about Life with Andrew* these days.

First, note the smile. He is feeling MUCH better today! We've all had a full night's sleep, which is cause for celebration.

With closer inspection, I invite you to notice a few more things. Check out those nasal passages. No more flowing tubes of flourescent yellow mucous! (OK, so he's still a little snotty, but that's to be expected for a few more days.)

Check out his bottom teeth. A little blueish tint to them, you say? They may in fact be rotting, since he won't allow us to brush them, but that's not why they're discolored. No, the little man had a blue crayon for breakfast! And see if you can spot the lone molar that broke through his gums a few days ago--yahoo! (Three more molars are on their way...)

Grandma Carol, he LOVES the cloth books he can carry on his wrists around the house.

And finally....Andrew is wearing the latest in Haven't Left the House Today toddler fashion: the onesie he slept in, unsnapped (because exposing ones underwear is the trendy thing to do), and a pair of sweats, so he won't freeze, cuz it's a chilly 60 degrees in the house.

*I've taken a liking to "Andrew". Is it because he's growing so quickly, and Andrew seems more appropriate than Andy for a man of his stature?

More photos--thanks for looking:

After the Storm

Felton, like other parts of the Santa Cruz mountains, was heavy hit by last week's storms. Fallen trees and branches, power outages, floods and slides are common here in the winter time. Luckily, so are the sunny 60 degree days, like today, that warm us and restore our spirits. We were fortunate not to suffer any storm damage, and neither did my parents.

Now that Andy is on the mend, we've been out enjoying the sunshine. Uncle Karl and Lucy came by this morning, and played with Andy in the backyard. Uncle Karl is fabulous at letting Andy get down and dirty in the mud, investigating the tanbark, twigs and earthworms. If Andy happens to get a little wet while splashing in the firepit full of rain water? Karl simply removes his shirt and lets him splash some more. All this I'm keeping appraised of from the window like a Nervous Nelly. Hmmm... maybe he's too cold out there without a shirt on, and he's sick after all. Oh, good, now he's in the sun. But wait: sun exposure! Skin damage! Cancer!


Lucky for Andy, he has an uncle who doesn't worry about those things.


Signing "more" chocolate chip cookies, Daddy!

In Sickness and in Health

I feel a little guilty when I use this blog to rant about the trials of parenthood, but there are times when a woman just has to vent! This is one of those times.

Andy's newest accomplishment is not one I'm particularly proud of. He has figured out how to seal off the back of his throat, gargle, and purse his lips in order to spew medicine across the living room. The fact that he can coordinate this effort without breathing is, in fact, remarkable. At the same time, he is wildly flailing his arms and legs, thrusting his head from side to side, and turning different shades of purple. At just one year old, he requires a small army to be administered antibiotics.

We took Andy to the pediatrican again yesterday. It was almost 5:00, and we didn't get the usual peppy greetings from the office staff. Probably because, from the moment he entered the building, he began shreaking continuously.

The doctor, surprisingly, was her usual cheerful self. "My goodness, he does seem to be a bit angry, doesn't he?" (Mike and I looked at each other, thinking that was the understatement of the year.)

"Would you like to give him some Tylenol with Codeine?" she asked. The clouds parted overhead, and halleluiahs were sung by a chorus of angels from on high.

"Yes, please," one of us finally answered. Tylenol with Codeine sounded much better than sedative or tranquelizer, some of the words I had been thinking of during our long, unhappy drive to the Capitola office.

The trick was getting the magic elixer down the throat of our spirited boy. Mike and I tried giving him a dose in the waiting room. (See second paragraph to see how well that went.)

Our pediatrican came in to help upon hearing Mike's cussing. "Try giving him a little bit on each side of his mouth," she suggested.

"Oh, you are a tricky one!" she remarked when Andy spit out half of the dose she gave him. Mike and I felt a glimmer of satisfaction that the professional had little more success administering medicine than we had. How the doctor could remain so cheerful after a full day with screaming babies and their frustrated parents, however, was beyond me.

Andy slept well last night, whether it was because of the Codeine or the new strain of antibiotics. The night before was too hideous to relive in writing. Let me just mention it involved Baby Einstien at midnight, and the Teletubbies at 3 am.

Many of my ideals have gone by the wayside during this illness. I am now that parent who has cookie crumbs between the couch cushions. This is payback for all the times when I'd babysit as a carefree teenager, and be mortified--absolutely aghast--to find a half-eaten moldy hotdog and bun by the couch in the living room. Or a melted icecream cone on a different three year old's pillow. Payback for casting judgement on the moral characters of the mothers (never the fathers) for their serious lapses in cleanliness and common sense.

Now I understand the pitfalls of living with a toddler travelling the house with food. And I'm just too tired to care. Very soon, I won't even notice anymore.