The 411

Working hard or hardly working? You tell me.

People ask me many questions to which I answer, "It varies. Not really; but I used too. Very strict one, actually; actually, no, I'm lying. They're deeper than most shallow people are willing to go. In my newly organized hall closet."*

Here's a glimpse of the day:
5:30-6:00 Jamie arises from deep, restorative slumber to take on his day. He grinds some coffee. This usually stirs me to the core.
6:00-6:30 Stella awakes and wants a tasty treat. Since I'm such a talented housewife, I need not arise from bed to meet her needs. I merely roll over.
6:30-7:00 Who knows what happens in the hinterlands of my dreams.
7:00 Rise and Shine. Pilates with Amy Brown! In my very own living room. Stella: exersaucer!
20 minutes later (because that's all it takes, people!) Stella's wanting some more sustenance. Get myself some coffee and feed her some more.

OK, I'm tired of typing times.

It depends on the day as to what makes up our core activities. Sometimes we bake, sometimes we walk, sometimes we run errands, sometimes we clean house; then there's Border's storytime with Jared or Ava or maybe someday Caleb or Luke? Who knows?
Honestly though, the entire day is filler for Stella's favorite time of the day:


This is not staged. She is a natural lollygagger.



*"What do you do with your day now that you don't work. Do you get bored? Do you have a schedule? Do you know life's deepest mysteries? Where's the extra T.P.?"

New Feature: Relative of the Week!

This week's relative: Big Jer!

Big Jer played it cool during Stella's incubation period, but once she arrived he lost his proverbial shit over this little incarnation. If Stella was a publicly traded stock, Beg Jer would be a 90% shareholder. If Stella were an infectious disease, Big Jer would be contagious. If Stella was saffron, he would buy her by the pound. If Stella was a beautiful wisteria tree bursting with blooms, he would drive across town and plant her in the ground!

Big Jer is Stella's only surviving biological grandpa. He's got a big job ahead of him. I'm sure he'll do his best to teach her fairness and the value of hard work and he'll balance out the two grandmas who love to spoil her. He'll teach her the meaning of no and the comfort of boundaries and self-control on eBay. And if she's really good she'll get to hold Squawkers! Oh yes!

A First: One of Many

Do not try this at home.
After being explicitely directed not to touch the butterflies at the botanical gardens, Jamie held Stella near a butterfly. So close that had she not been so into her hands
she might have noticed it and grabbed it. This, however, did not happen. It didn't take long for the butterfly to get agitated by Stella's proximity and try to fly away--only to land on her hand.

People stage photos with oversized characters at Disneyland all the time, so I won't feel bad about this. So, people, the first time a butterfly lands on Stella: March 23rd, 2006.

In other news that no one really cares about: one landed on my hat without any cohersion. Big whoop. Look. Stella didn't care either.

Four Months y Mas!

This is the lip of sadness. It holds forth in appropriately sad circumstances: fright, loneliness, parties between the hours of four and six in the evening, etc.

To commemorate the beginning of Jamie's spring break and to pass some time with The Lip, we made a trip to the pediatrician's office. We were told the weight of the wee one and she was subsequently stabbed with a needle THREE times in her chubby little thighs. The Lip made an appearance and there was much commisserating. As a treat afterwards she got to breastfeed. This always soothes little girl's sadness and makes me wonder, "What will I do to soothe her when she's older? Say thirteen and it is no longer possible to offer her the boob?"

Interesting dialogue ensues.

In other news our dog enjoys many delicacies in life: licking ice cream bowls and dinner plates, rawhide chews, cat poop, and decaying bird heads. We give children stuffed animals, dogs prefer unstuffed animals--if they're in charge of the unstuffing. Yum!

Workin' the Hammies

White Goodman's got nothing on this chick. Stella's doing a new thang: gettin' down with her bad self, yo.

Don't Despair

Some people say, "Life is so cruel. Why do bad things happen to good people?"
To which I say, "Jennifer has bounced back. I think she's even forgiven Brad and Angelina. Can't you, too?"

Some people say, "This world is unsafe for children."
To which I say, "C'mon, Britney apologized. She wouldn't do anything to harm Sean P. She was scared by the paparazzi. Wouldn't you be scared, too?"

Some people say, "There are starving people in this world."
To which I say, "Nichole Ritchie chooses not to eat. Don't feel so bad."

Some people say, "There are so many fatherless children."
To which I say, "Tom is old-fashioned. He wanted to get married before the child was born, but Katie got too fat to fit into her wedding dress. They'll fix it."

Some people say, "There are so many hurting people in the world."
To which I say, "Nick is dating already and Jessica has bought her own mansion. Things are on the mend."

Some people say, "Life is so painful."
To which I say, "Laser hair removal lasts only a short time-- hairless bikini line lasts a lifetime!"

Some people say, "You're so out of touch."
To which I say, "Wha?"

I Object

This truly is the face of one small girl who knows what she doesn't want. She doesn't want to have sweet, pinky amoxycilin thrust down her throat with a syringe, thank you. She might let it cross her lips and allow it to loll about in her mouth while she feigns cooperation, but it will very sneakily makes its way past those lips and all over the face.

I can honestly say this was the first time I was angry with Stella. Not at her, just with the situation. So frustrating. Smelly, little infected ear.

Mental Note...

When baby is put to bed at 5:30 pm so as to make it easier for husband while wife is away, and baby sleeps straight through the evening and into the night, it might be a good idea to wake baby up so she doesn't realize how refreshed she's feeling come 4 am.

Sumbthucker

Stella has recently acquired suckage—as in sucking that appendage that is neither finger nor digit. This is somewhat of a welcome habit. The reason being that it renders me somewhat useless at naptime. She is now capable of sucking herself to sleep with that sleek little tool.

Seeing her suck her thumb is equal parts cute and disappointing. I sucked my thumb. I was intimate with my thumb for years. The consequence being that I had intense orthodontia as a young child. I wore braces on and off from third grade until tenth grade. I also had two jaw surgeries to correct my horrendous under bite. Looking at pictures of myself from before my surgery is a humble undertaking. My Jaw—my Siamese twin--looms large and is the first thing that I notice. Of course, I am keenly aware of it and the pain that it caused—I’m talking literal pain here. I never endured teasing over The Jaw.

My surgery required that my jaw be wired shut for at least four weeks. The other important thing to know about this time in my life is how incredibly tall I was. I had the surgery at fourteen years old. I was at least 5‘11” tall and maybe 150 pounds—wiry to say the least. Now add to that a four-week refrain from solids and you get one skinny little teen. I lost about ten pounds while my parents lost about ten grand. The only “fatty” part of me was my swollen cheeks. I remember trying to squeeze bits of meat through gaps in my teeth to no avail.

I looked forward to the day they clipped those wires. I imagined myself going to a restaurant and ordering a huge cheeseburger. What they fail to tell you beforehand is that you have to regain, um chewing capacity? I don’t know what you’d call it. But the first time you can open your mouth it feels like it’s extended to its breaking point, but really it’s only opened up about half an inch. This does not make for burger friendly eating. So, you continue with a similar, mostly-liquid diet. Add in the occasional piece of toast or boiled chicken and you’re on your way to gaining back those ten pounds that were lost.

The irony is that after all the money spent, my mother ended up marrying an oral surgeon and I married a guy with perfectly straight teeth who never had braces. This means that Stella’s dental future is basically a crapshoot.