Timeline: An Ice Cream Meltdown

We went out for ice cream this week. Several times. It's that time of the year. It's light out late. It doesn't cool down until after 6:30. Stella's alert and dirty and we're burning daylight before we can give her a bath and put her in her comfy little bed where she nestles down for the night and recharges for the next long, hot day.

There is not a good local ice cream place near our house. I could sit here and mentally map out the local environs and...nothing for miles. No Baskin Robbins, no mom and pops that sell ice cream, no hispanic helado store--to me this is a disappointment. It seems that getting ice cream shouldn't be a production. One shouldn't have to drive for miles to find a fun little place that sells ice cream. But we do.

We go to Mary Coyle's. This is a local place that's been around for a while. It's been a frequent place since we've been married, too. It's not too far, but far enough. They make their own ice cream and employ the slightly privileged teenagers that live in downtown Phoenix. There have been a number of these servers that stick out to us and whenever we pull up to park we wonder aloud, "I wonder what happened to Sweaty Motivated Boy? Or Hair Twirlling Girl who let people's ice cream melt? Hmmm?" It's a fun little game of familiarity.

Anyway. We went to Mary Coyle's this week. We order some ice cream fully aware of the requirement to share with Stella because she is unable to manage or consume her own bowl. Well, all was well at MC's. We were having a fun time. There were pink straws to play with! And she was sitting by her dad--her new fave.



And then they brought the ice cream.



This is usually this highlight. but not when you're dealing with the end-of-the-day emotional capabilities of a small child. She got her own spoon and she was given the opportunity to use it at will. But she did not choose wisely.



For added emphasis:

Blast From the Past

In Addition to Which...

On a recent trip to the pediatrician I received a handout that told me to always feed my child at the table. We mostly abide by this habit, especially when snacks involve oranges or other sticky consumables. I thought this was a precaution for the safety of the child--choking hazard, etc.
Until this week.

I have just discovered the source of the ant infestation in our house. At first it was mild. They were discovered Tuesday morning. A few roamers seemingly without purpose. There was no food or sticky liquids laying about. I squirted them with some soapy water and called it a day. Ants, to me, do not instill fear and disgust when they are on the floor, in small numbers. Lacking in organization.

Well, good morning, Thursday. I arose to the mixing of my coffee and turned to find a large clump of them on the kitchen counter. I began to do some more intense investigation. There was a long steady stream of them coming in from the floor by a window. This was no rambling, rag-tag group of nobodies. These ants were working--they had purpose. This was the kind of assembly you would see outside and think, "Wow, ants are so industrious!" Or at least I would. I do find the little buggers fascinating--outside, or on the floor in small unorganized numbers. Not on my counters or in my couch with numbers approaching double digits and in forms resembling small cities.

Time to take serious action.

I performed a "how to kill ants" search on Google. So many options. Baby powder? Cayenne pepper, Simple Green, diatemaceous earth.

OK, now I know what to apply that won't hurt my child or animals.

But wait, why are they crawling on the couch?

Upon lifting one of the cushions I found the reason: a large chuck of a no longer recognizable food substance. Sadly, the first culprit that came to mind was Stella--most likely the proper culprit. And now I have another reason why she won't be wandering the house consuming snacks.

A Girl and Her Dog: Part Due

Too hot to write:

A Couple Developments

I cut Stella's hair really short recently. It was one of those once-you-start-you-can't-stop experiences. It's shaping up nicely.

It's getting hot here now. This means that the only time of the day it's nice to be outside is early or late--no middle. Stella desperately loves the outdoors so this presents us with a challenge. Recently, we were outside and in between chasing dogs, playing in her house and climbing her, uh, climbing thing, Stella had some words to share with me.

This video does not have subtitles. Nor does it need them unless your heart is made of ice cold stone and ensconced in barbed wire.*






*Although, I think she's saying something about Ryan Smeets and his pending move to town.

Being a Law & Order Fan...

I was especially excited when Richard Belzer offered to take Stella to the zoo. As you can see, they had a great time.

On Life With Stella

This picture was taken three months ago. It was taken before I found out about my cancer and before I had my surgery. I had just started to feel better from the Morning Sickness That Kicked My Ass.

So much has happened since this was taken. Stella doesn't that different to most people; I can tell that her hair is longer; she has molars that you can see when she laughs. Those molars were no peach coming in. It was the kind of week where you want to kick your kid to the curb but you can't help feeling sorry for them at the same time. If only she would've let me pick her up and cuddle her. But she didn't want that. But she also didn't want to be not held. I'm so dense it took me so long to figure out what was happening that by the time I'd started to offer her some pain relief she didn't want to take it. She was that grumpy.

My sweet girl.

This evening we were sitting out on the front patio. She went and sat at her little bench and looked over at me to see what I was doing. Then she tossed her head back to look at the sky and chortled. It was a very deep and meaty laugh. She looked at me to see my response. Of course I laughed. Then we laughed together. I could see those shiny molars.

I wonder what life will be like when the baby is born. Sometimes I feel bad that Stella won't get the attention that she's used to receiving. I know she won't be neglected, but she also won't be The One. I don't know why it makes me sad for her, but it does. I know ultimately she's going to be excited to have another kid around. She'll like that.

It's the unknown right now. I remember before Stella I wondered what life would be like with a baby. Then she came and all was well. I can't remember life before her and all that jazz. I know this is what will happen when Gianna's born. I know I'll have two little sweet things that cry when I leave them and pat me on the back when I return and get excited to see me in the morning.

As much as I am sometimes driven crazy by the constant need, I know I need to enjoy it because soon enough it will dry up. I will be a part of a secure background that needs to be left for the wider world. In the meantime I'll get excited to see her when we've been apart and I'll miss her the moment she goes to bed for the night.

So Sweet She Has No Idea

Stella just went off on a play date with her friends, Tara and Eric. She didn't even cry when she had to stop watching Sesame Street. This is how much she likes them.

I had to send her with a bag of diapers and a change of clothing because of her, shall we say, potential for bodily fluid overflow today.

When I came back inside I thought about the contents of the little bag she was clutching as she got into the car--how she had no idea I had to send along extra clothing just in case. And the thought broke my heart just a little because she's still so little and innocent.

I'm No Good at Small Talk

I can act, though. And I've acted my way through many a painful small-talk situation:

• Flagstaff BBQ circa 2000 (with a close-talker who caused me to circumvent an entire park ramada)
  
• Unexpected encounter with someone from high school circa last month
  
• North Scottsdale MOM's Club drop-in mixer at the library circa last month (I wanted to see what it was like, and now I know, you're all out of my league)
  

All that is to say that I do not enjoy small talk, but I can endure it. But when you've stared down the double barrel of death like I have you realize there's little time for pithy conversations.

All this is to say to the fellow mom at book club who works at Sprouts and introduced herself to me and was met with a somewhat cold, yet polite, response, "It's not you, it's me. It's not your son either. And it's not that you work at a grocery store. It's just that I didn't have anything to say."

Not Quite a Month

Life is busy mostly because Stella is busy.

She still jabbers instead of really speaks, but come one, she's only one. She did identify Cookie Monster on her diaper the other day. This was a completely unsolicited designation. She picked it up and pointed and said, "kiki." This is what she says when she means cookie. I thought it interesting and sweet. Especially because whenever Cookie Monster shows up on Sesame Street she greets him with a large howl of laughter. Like she knows this thing is going to be a "totally wild and crazy guy."

Even thought she can't articulate things yet, she does understand a lot of English. She knows where to go sit when I tell her to get in her chair. And just today she threw something in the garbage for me while I sat on my butt. This is going to work out great!

We've started some swimming lessons and Stella howls for different reasons from 11:30-12:00 on Mondays and Wednesdays. She does not like being forced to swim under water and splash about. Really. Regardless, she's getting better. And since she is growing up in the hot hot desert, she must learn to swim otherwise, how will she entertain herself?

Which reminds me of my childhood. We spent days in our bathing suits, throwing pennies on the bottom of the pool to retrieve them and throw them back again. We had diving competitions, tea parties, water ballet, mermaid stories, inflatable toy fights, it was all a part of surviving the summer heat. And the legacy goes on.

For a fun picture, go here: Hansoniana.

OK, One More

I enjoy this video because of the last fifteen seconds when Stella's jabbering. This is original material that does not belong to Viacom.

Things Worth Remembering

While Stella ate her lunch yesterday she developed a kind of Mystery Meat face. It was a cross between "Hey, what is this?" to "Hey, I know what this is." I knew what this portended. She had consumed large quantities of grapes lately without producing any byproduct. I had a feeling it was go-time.

We proceeded into the bathroom and in a matter of moment Stella had done both businesses on the toilet. Great!

I was very congratulatory, giving her fives and excited and what not, as was she. She kept squealing and covering her mouth with both hands as if in excited disbelief. She does this frequently now after seeing it somewhere and it is quite endearing.

After she was all put back together and freely roaming the house she continued to stop and squeal and cover her mouth and seek me out for more fives. Pretty fun stuff.

This morning I got her out of bed and asked her if she had to go potty. She went into the bathroom and was getting her seat all situated on the toilet. I let her go through the motions even though I could already smell that she had already attended to her needs in her diaper.

Later on, I sat with her for a bit during Sesame Street. Cookie Monster and Prairie Dawn were talking of the letter "E." CM was "imagining" that the letter was a cookie. As he is wont to do, he let his imagination take over and he promptly devoured the "E." Stella reacted with a loud gasp and a commiserating sound (I assume for PD's disappointment).

When we gather as a fam to watch America's Funniest Home Videos, Stella reacts to the action. Once, a baby was hurt and this brought on some sad tears. Usually she is shocked and surprised by all the mishaps. It's interesting to see that she understands not only that something has gone wrong but that it's terribly funny.

While I Get Better She Gets Out

Stella goes out on a lunch date.

"Your forgot your wallet!"



Strictly for good measure.

The Hobbit

Thank you for getting me from my nap.


Now that I am finished with elevenses, can we move on to my lunch?



Thank you.

Prairie Dawn, I Have Always Loved You

When I was wee and watched Sesame Street I had some favorite characters. I loved Prairie Dawn. She was so cute and chatty. I thought her hair was nice and she always wore cute clothes.

But then there was Slimey--Oscar's pet worm. I loved him. I loved worms in general. I collected them from the garden and called them Fellas. And I loved the fact that Oscar's worm had a little bed. LOVED IT.






Then there were the Twiddlebugs who lived in Ernie's flower box.



I don't know if I can adequately describe my love and fascination for them and their little world. Perhaps they were my inspiration for making bug hotels. I loved the idea of this small world that existed fully intact within my own world.

Nowadays, I love Sesame Street for another reason. It gives me about one hour each morning to get some chores done without my precious shadow who undoes all my chores. It gives me some time to have some coffee and read my email. Even more, it gives me the opportunity to see some of my old favorites from the Street. Believe it or not, some of those classic little skits, characters and montages are still intact after all these years.

And, by the way, just as I was finishing this up I heard Oscar reading a story and I ran back to the TV room to see Slimey in his bed. And there's a new girl worm named Sloppy. I'm unsure of whether or not she's Slimey's progeny or not, but she had a pony tail.

Lunch Snooze Part II

This time with better lighting!

Every Thursday we go to the library for story time. From 10:15-11:15 we hang out with other moms and kids and sing songs and listen to stories. Then there's time to play with a ton of toys and usually about fifteen other children around Stella's age. Lately, who knows why, Stella has been in dire need of a nap between 10-11am. This interrupts our story time. Halfway through free play Stella will begin a quick downward slide. At that time I perform an extraction.

The library is so close to our house I usually get home before she entirely succumbs to the napping gods. I try to give her some sustenance so as to make her nap last a little longer. Unfortunately, she becomes very quiet and starts to nod. And while I usually put her to bed right away, other times I can't resist recording it for posterity.

Stella Likes to Eat Sand

Therefore, when she poops she not only gets the relief of a bowel movement, but when her diaper gets changed she has the buff and shine exfoliation treatment. The little diva, some might say, already getting spa treatments at such a young age. This is the same girl who had her first diaper blow-out at The Camelback Inn. She was, after all, born in Scottsdale, Arizona, aka East Beverly Hills. One may ask, "When a girl like this is in need of a first hair cut where does she go?" She suggests a trip to the local Toni & Guy salon.


"Hmmm, yes, I'd like to lose some length, perhaps add some layers--what's that flash?!"


"Paparazzi, please, give a girl some space!"


"I spy some hair products. When we're finished, can you please take me to see them, Go Go?"

I Call This One "Shiny Lips"

"We would like to thank the Academy for the Most Precious and Definitely Not Overrated Digital Camera Movie Award. We're flattered, of course, but we also understand the power of a cute child consuming man-sized portions of meat. And of course the jibberish and the answering of questions like she really knows what I'm asking. But most of all, the Shiny Lips, we understand their power."

Keeping It Real

Stella is a connoiseur of the good life. She likes to eat real food. When she's hungry for meat she don't want no cut-up-little-bits-so-they-can-fit-in-her-mouth. She wants the real thing. She wants it off the bone.

Oh, and she likes to make faces now, too.

"Backlighting Kills the Shot"

I am going to share this regardless of the poor quality. Stella endured a Long Day recently and couldn't make it through lunch. She started drifting and instead of taking her out of her chair and out of her tired misery, I recorded it so we can all laugh at how innocent and funny she is.

The last fifteen seconds are the best. I must admit, I hope this happens again so that I may correct my lighting mistake the second time around!

Post 130

"For I know the plans I have for you, says the Mom, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to put you down for a nap and let you slumber."

Ah, life.

Stella, you can be a lot of work. There's tears and fussing and wailing. And unexplained tiredness when I have something fun planned. There's waking up at 6:30 in the morning when it's still dark outside. What is that all about?

Of course, there's also the kisses and hugs that you give. The pats on the back and your cheeks that always smell like maple syrup even though you never eat it.

Regardless, you're taking a nap.

Our Agenda

A recent email sent to the grandparents...

Wow,
Stella recently informed us that she wants to make overnights a regular occurance in 2007. She already experienced one with much success during our flu in December. So, we're accepting offers. We're filling up her calendar! She's a social being a she likes to do stuff. She enjoys the movies, the carousel (if you stand next to her), the mall, the grocery store, parks, other kids, etc. The opportunities for entertaining/spoiling her are endless. She's still never been to Chuck E. Cheese and I can promise you I'm not taking her--that's your job!
When she's feeling good she'll sleep a good twelve hours in a row--even more if you make the room really dark!
Let us know when you want her!

"It's Hammer, Go, Hammer, MC Hammer, Yo, Hammer!"

We're on Holiday!

Mere Hours

Mere hours before both of her parents came down with the flu:

The Best

If you want true Christmas charm, you should check out this album. John Denver and his Muppet friends do an outstanding job of conjuring Christmas cheer and wonder. I jest not. This album takes a charming spin on the classics and adds in some original work, too. Touching, really. Really. And you can buy it on iTunes! How post-modern.

This was my absolute favorite record when I was a kid. I remember rolling with laughter at Miss Piggy and her antics in "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and a little gem called "Christmas is Coming." There's this part where she continues to sing after everyone else is done and they have to stop her, I believe it's Scooter who says, "Piggy, we're done." Piggy responds in her classic pig pride, "Oh. I knew that."

The surprising thing about this album is how touching and sentimental some of the songs are. There's a song about a Christmas tree named Alfie. It was my first experience with the personification of a tree that brought tears to my eyes. It still does, by the way, they're just not as pronounced.

Maybe it's just because John Denver is from a different age, but when he sings his Christmas carols I actually think he might believe in Christmas--as in the birth of Christ. These lyrics could be criticized as overly sentimental, I'm sure, but I love them.

The garment of life, be it tattered and torn,
the cloak of the soldier is withered and worn.
But what child is this that was poverty-born, the peace of Christmas Day.

The branch that bears the bright holly, the dove that rests in yonder tree.
The light that shines for all to see, the peace of Christmas Day.

The hope that has slumbered for 2000 years,
the promise that silenced 1000 fears.
A faith that can hobble an ocean of tears, the peace of Christmas Day.

But perhaps my favorite is a little tune sung by the most famous green frog. I just mentioned this to my precious husband, that level-headed, logical man, who replied, "Yeah. I don't like that song." I love how poignant the lyrics are and the fact that I imagine little Kermie when I hear them.



I don't know if you believe in Christmas,
or if you have presents underneath the Christmas tree.
But if you believe in love, that will be more than enough
for you to come and celebrate with me.

For I have held the precious gift that love brings
even though I've never seen a Christmas star.
But I know there is a light, I have felt it burn inside,
and I can see it shining from afar.


I especially like to imagine Kermit holding "the precious gift that love brings."

It may be that these tunes will forever be favorites because of the memory connected with them. The memories of looking at the large album dust cover. Those things put CD liners to shame. Those things are bigger than your head. The detail, the color, it was awesome to gaze at those Muppets over and over while I listened to those songs. Because, People, we didn't have videos back then. You put the record on the record player and sat and listened.

This is the most verbose I've been in weeks and it's all because of those Muppets.

Don't Make Me Touch the Rag

There are certain (many) things that make my life depressing and horrible these days:

• the kitchen rag
  
• coffee grounds
  
• dirty towels
  
• wet towels
  
• clean towels (too much fabric softener)
  
• the smell of my house
  
• damp smells
  
• dry smells
  
• nice smells (perfume and such)
  
• cooking smells
  
• dirty diapers
  
• clean diapers (they have a very chemical-ly smell)
  
• direct sunlight
  
• coldness
  
• dirty sink
  
• talk of food
  
• warm wetness (if that makes sense)
  
• front yard
  
• back yard
  

You can imagine what this makes life like for those who share my space. I'm irratable and unpredictable and annoyed at myself. The hardest part is my physical inability to overcome this onset of depression. And when I use that word I mean it to describe a slowness that has overtaken my life and a lack of structure. I cannot grocery shop and mean it. I mean, I can for others, but I cannot presume to know on Sunday at 10:30 am what I will want to eat on Sunday at 10:45 am. This makes for a most difficult preservation of life.

Things I have eaten lately because it was what sounded good at the time:

• Arby's Beef and Cheddar (try twice in one day!)
  
• Subway ham and cheese with white bread (white! I never order white!)
  
• Cheese crisp
  
• Chorizo burrito
  
• (Mind you this is all in the last thirty-six hours!)
  
• bacon
  
• blueberry pancakes (in fact that sounds good. like RIGHT NOW!)
  

I told a friend recently that I would be willing to trade the first trimester for seventy-two hours of labor. That sounds extreme right? Well, imagine spending eight to twelve weeks disgusted in your skin. Imagine being disgusted by the smell of your fingertips. Imagine yourself living in the sixth circle of digestive and olfactory hell. This sucks so bad I want to numb myself with cocktails every night until February when, magically, this will all most likely be over (please, God?) because I will have transitioned out of the first trimester.

This is How It Be

First trimester nausea is like riding in the fourth row of a sixteen passenger van trying to read a magazine written with 12 point Times New Roman while on a road with lots of switchbacks. All the time.

Just relaaazz. That's right. Relaaz. It's more than relaxing.

Holidays Interrupted on Account of Reproductive Activity

This makes Thanksgiving numero dos (my first grade teacher, Mrs. Whitbeck, said all her numbers in Spanish; talk about a progressive woman for 1982!) that was slightly curtailed thanks to child-bearing. Last year it was full-on labor, this year? Full-on nausea. I'm one of those people that you could call "lucky." I've heard people say that nausea in the first trimester is a sign that the child is developing properly. This is the kind of information that is doled out when people don't know what else to say. It's like when someone dies and people tell you trite things like, "God must've needed them up in heaven." Or you lose a job and people say, "Well, there's probably something better for you out there." Or you get dumped and people say, "I never liked that person anyway."

So, I feel like chewed up bits of turkey and stuffing that has been regurgitated and left out on the counter overnight to dry. But at least the baby is healthy.

I had Jamie around for four days to bring relief to the daily duties around here. And now he's at work. Before 7:15 this morning Stella got into my yogurt and got it all over the floor. Lovely. Other than feeling ill this morning (although not too bad) I felt scared that I was going to be left as the one in charge for the whole day.

Thankfully, Ms. Martha Lee Kelly is going to come over and help me do some laundry. This should spiffy things up around here. I can barely stand the smell of the grout on the tile or the top of Stella's sweet little head (when the smell of your own children is revolting, you know you've got problems) much less clean my nasty kitchen. I don't even like to think about throwing something into the garbage can. Now I must go find out when Jamie's Christmas break starts.

Redux

Wait, did I say, "I'm so happy that she's here"? I meant I'm so tired that she's here.

This Time Last Year

I was still pregnant. And large. Though starting to have contractions.

This year? We have Stella.



Next year? We'll have one more.

Where Are All the Adoring Fans?

Sometimes it's too easy for me to write about "Stella." I say it like that because sometimes I think of her as a character in my life. That may sound odd but I just had to mentally edit what I was going to write once I looked at a sweet picture of my daughter and realized, "Wait, she's a small, little, defenseless person. She cannot read what I'm saying or understand it. She has no opinion about it now, but she does have her very own personhood and her own soul." I need to remember such things when I am recounting the details of her life. She is not a character in my life, she is a person in it. And because I write here to supplement the record of her early life, I want to record things she'll want to know about and be able to read with pride.

That being said, she had her first birthday party last Saturday. It was a milestone in her life as well as ours (her Mom and Dad). It's funny to think that I've lived to see the first birthday of my first child. It's crazy how time flies.

Stella is a sweet little booger who's still a little clumsy. When I look at these pictures they make me want to cry when I think about her little body falling down and getting injured throughout her day. (That's a very odd, non-sequitir thing to put there, but it's just what I think when I look at her.)

I am so happy that she's here and that she's developing into a little person. She definitely has opinions she just can't articulate them yet. But she's done a great job of breaking us into parenthood.

Birthday crown idea from this crafty mama.

The Haps

This is what is coming up in the Hanson Household:



Creating this sign really made me wish I had one of those chalk strings that you snap so it leaves a guideline. Do you know what I'm talking about? I wonder if those are expensive.

This is what has already happened in the HH:





This is a regularly occurring event. That is, playing out front with the cat in the afternoon. We collect rocks in bags, pick up dirt clods and generally explore the habitat.

The Deceiving Cover

Does this look like the face of one who enjoys the following...

• eating dog food?
  
• defacating in her bath?
  
• picking her nose?

I assure it is that face.

It is also the face of one who enjoys...

• greeting her animals in the morning
  
• waving goodbye when you leave
  
• giving "kisses" when asked (though they rather resemble a simple shifting of weight)

My Little Chunky Monkey

I know that when I was growing up I thought it was very hard. Now that I'm watching someone else do it, actually helping them do it, I know it's hard. Today Stella had immunization subterfuge, "Stella, look at this book. Look, it's Pooh and Piglet." This is when the nurse deftly plunged two needles into Stella's puny left bicep. May these two memories not be linked in her mind!

Then there's the naps. I love naps. Jamie takes them when necessary. I know many adults who would loved to "be made" to take a nap. Stella does not share my affinity. She cries when she goes down. She cries after twenty minutes of shut-eye. This is her overall napping experience.

There is one thing she does enjoy:



a little downtime with a book in the dog's bed. Nothing repairs the wounds of this world quite like it.

This One is for Chris Kelly

Who is Chris Kelly, you might ask? Well besides being a model for the PVCC Fitness Center dress code dos and don'ts sign, a man with pretty hair, an SRP employee, a liberal-leaning Republican (Proposition 107? Hello?), Donna's husband, Marty's son and Joey's father-in-law, he is also Jamie's uncle and, therefore, Stella's great-uncle. And tonight over Grandma Kelly's famoso pollo asada (that's Spanish just for you, Chris!) he asked me why I haven't updated lately. Not that he reads this pansy child-centered blog on a regular basis. Just every now and then. He described it as, "Not a website, but her own place on the internet where she posts pictures of her (meaning Stella) and them (meaning all of us) and tells stories and writes little sayings and stuff."

Anyway, why haven't I posted? No reason other than laziness. I've been too busy reading a good book that was due to the library (459 pages, whohee!), starting and finishing Stella's birthday quilt, landscaping the front yard, going to my creative writing class, visiting my aunt and uncle's cabin in Pine, applying for the Master Gardener program, planting seeds in my yard and generally being outside. This is the time of year for outside activity. This is when Stella lives the other part of November. We're closing in on Year One. We've experienced the first Accidental Trauma--not major but it did involve blood, scabbing, tears and a retaining wall. We've tasted dirt! And sand! We've put rocks in a bucket and taken them out again. Exciting stuff this.

And now for some eye candy:


I will not discuss my sand-eating habits in a public forum.


Sand is not a gateway mineral and I resent the fact that you think it's making me crazy.

You Know You're a Bigot When...

When the following thought occurs to you:
"Boy, I smell. Too bad there are so many other people in this room. At least I'm sitting next to this woman from _____________ (another country in the Eastern hemisphere where there are large, concentrated populations). It won't bother her because she's used to poor personal hygiene."

She is Her Father's Daughter

Quiet

When quiet is good:

• 3 am
  
• When enjoying the beauty of the Grand Tetons
  
• While teaching a class
  
• While watching Lost
  

When quiet is bad:

• On the radio
  
• In the middle of a concert
  
• In a public restroom stall
  
• When Stella is playing
  

Roasted Chicken: Finger Lickin' Good

If there's one thing everyone can agree upon it must be that good food is good fun to eat. Yes? I know we might not all agree on what good food is, however. Around here we like to eat meat in its many varied forms. The one recipe of Julia Child's that I have made a couple times is her raosted chicken. It's great because you take fresh, basic elements and turn them into a feast. This is basically a whole chicken, butter, carrots, onions, more butter and various other littler things, i.e. salt and pepper. Very tasty. The only thing is that you must baste it every ten minutes. This is a chore in the hot summer months, but this time of the year it's a lovely activity.

Here we have your basic chicken not yet tortured in the oven.


A few ingredients getting ready...


Lastly, the chicken on the way to being finished. Notice it's browning nicely.


Unfortunately, we were ravished when this was done and I wasn't allowed the time for a photo. We had to eat.

Earlier this week I made another tasty dish with, yet again, the most basic ingredients:
4 chicken breats
2 sticks o' butter
3 carrots
2 yellow onions
4 celery stalks
6 apples
2 sprigs of tarragon
handful of bread crumbs
salt and pepper

We cooked it over indirect heat on the grill for about an hour and MAN ALIVE was it good! I love cooking with root vegetables and it has inspired me to get my garden growing so I can have some straight from our good earth next fall.

Easy on the Text

I like to call this video "C'mon, Kid" or "My Annoying Voice."

Moving Right Along

Today's theme is Life Lite.

One day she's bathing in a sink...


The next day she's practising her walk.

"Oh, You Heard What Happened to Her, Right? She Got Bored"

Boredom has been a theme in my life lately. My boredom and that of others. Others that I know and others I have been told about. It's not that my life is particularly more boring now than it ever has been, but that people feel more inquisitive of the level of my boredom, its existence and their anecdotal reassurances that I am not alone.

Up to this point in my adult life I have almost always had full-time jobs. If not one full-timer then a couple part-timers to mish-mash together my life and standard of living. I remember one job where I felt so bored that I would be physically exhausted by my boredom at 8:00 am. That's difficult--physically exhausting boredom is a cross to bear. And I know many an adult that does bear it in a small cubicle with a computer monitor and a caffeine high and an illegal eBay window looming behind their workity work.

Now my boredom involves another small human. An incredibly cute human with a budding personality and babbling speech patterns to boot. A little soul. A new life. A little soul that requires the same things over and over again throughout the day, throughout the days, throughout the months. Admittedly, it can be boring. It can feel futile. But is it boring in the same way that after lunch meetings in a small windowless room with stale air and lame agendas are boring? No. Is it boring the in the same way that pages upon pages of meaningless data entry with your local easy listening music station playing in the background is boring? No. Is it boring the same way that disciplining someone's ill-mannered, farts-in-class, pompous, seventeen-year old "young adult" who never does their homework is boring. Resounding no.

The thing I've come to realize lately is that everyone loves a story. Everyone loves a good story, but everyone especially loves their own stories. If these stories bear the slightest resemblance to your life they want you to hear it. I don't take their my-wife-was-bored-staying-home-so-she-went-back-to-work or their I-was-bored-staying-home-so-I-went-back-to-work stories personally. I think deep down they think that staying home is a sacrifice to the Golden Calf of Boredom and it's a worthwhile sacrifice. And that's nice. I've had a number of people eavesdrop on me and others similarly shackled while we talk in public of our domestic lives only to interrupt us to say, "I think you've made the right choice" or "Great job!" You have no idea how encouraging it is.

When it comes down to it, I recognize that staying home is a sacrifice. My husband cannot order take-out pizza as frequently as he would like. He cannot purchase as many books as he would like. All kidding aside, you also have the other end of the spectrum. Do people ever describe returning to work as a sacrifice? Because it is. There is so much time to be spent with one's child. There is so very much empty, boring time. The thing I remind myself when I am tired of making grilled cheese, cutting grapes into eighths, filling sippy cups and nursing is that I have chosen to be home because it is good for us. It is good for all of US. It is good to have people home taking care of their loved ones. It is good to have neighborhood homes inhabited in the middle of the day. It is good for others to see children being pushed in strollers by their mothers. And I know this because when I used to drive to work it made me feel good to see others doing the same.

I do get bored. But I know it is all the moments of boring that I will look back on and cherish. Not to mention the fact that: hello? Hobbies? Doesn't anyone have them anymore? Don't we recreate? Don't we garden or read or make things or cook things for fun anymore? Martha Stewart built a huge empire out of domestic arts. That says something.

Intervene

Sometimes I do things without thinking. You know, pick my nose in public, shout profanities at slow-moving vehicles, physically express exasperation at Woman who parks her cart in front of the dairy section at Trader Joe's and contemplates ALL THE DAIRY while trying to decide what to purchase when, really, well, she can do that. It is a free world. Who am I to complain? I'm not the boss of her.*

Lately, I have not been thinking correctly in my dealings with Stella. I have been acting irrationally. This has resulted in the following:

• changing her diaper when she doesn't want it changed
  
• wiping her nose when she doesn't want it wiped
  
• cleaning her face when she doesn't want it cleaned

According to Stella this has simply got to stop.


*For the record. It's like people who go to McDonald's and stand there and look up at the menu. Like you haven't been going there YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. This bugged me to no end when I worked there.

Me: Welcome to McDonald's. Can I help you?
Customer staring slack-jawed at menu: Do I want a cheeseburger or a hamburger. Let. Me. Think.
Me: Take your time.
Customer: Takes their T.I.M.E.

Why Buy Toys?

When Stella wanders around the house looking for things to do, sometimes she chooses to play with her toys. However, many times she wanders to the garbage can and the tupperware drawer. The thing she likes the most, though, is the recycle bin. Perhaps it's because its contents change daily. She pulls out egg cartons, yogurt containers, cereal boxes and, on this particular day, a Jell-O box. Oh the joy

Segni della Autostrada

Sometimes truth emerges after much thought and soul-searching. Other times it's while you're driving or performing other mundane tasks.

A few things that have occurred to me this week:

• Is there such a thing as organic fruit snacks? Yes. They're called raisins.
  
• If you want to learn a language try a children's music tape. When you awaken in the middle of the night you'll be singing yourself to sleep saying things like, "Il ragno fila la su hotella (sic)," or "Tante auguri a te, spendi li candellini!" or "Mi piace la spiagia."
  
• The Paradise Valley United Methodist Church needs a little instruction in verbage for their road signs. The sign that welcomes you to their driveway says, "It's the children, for Christ's sake." I don't think they mean it that way.
  
• It's easier to go back to work than to stay home with your child--easier on one's mental health anyway.
  
• I'm going to wrap some empty boxes for Stella to open for her birthday and Christmas because she prefers packaging to toys.
  
• I like hanging my clothes out to dry.
  
• If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.
  
• Who are the Joneses anyway? As in who is it that everyone is keeping up with these days? What's the norm--for anything?
  
• It's very easy to judge others. Yet I undoubtedly judge others incorrectly all the time.
  
• "Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold."
  
  

Cutest Nonsense Ever

Little Stelly

Today I watched from afar as Stella played with another child. Or rather, she played near her. This girl was bigger and older. Stella had a little ball she was chewing on and this girl stole it from her. Not that big of a deal. Stella didn't cry. But she unwaveringly pursued that ball and attempted to retrieve it from the bigger girl. She failed. But she eventually stole a toy from a child smaller than herself.

Then tonight she had a bit of a fretful time falling asleep. I think her teeth must hurt her. Usually she cries and wants to be held. Tonight she lay in her crib and stared up at me, mouth agape, forlorned sounds coming from within and slowly sobbed herself unconscious. Kinda makes your heart break.

I prefer to remember her like this:

Hitting the Hay; or "Let's Go Take a Warm Bath, Get Lotioned Up, Read a Book and Get Our Back Rubbed"

Wouldn't you be ready to sleep? I know I would.

But Stella? She's all, "Please. This is so old. I want to thrash my limbs about some more."



"You don't seriously think you're getting rid of me so easily?"



"Sweepy? Am I sweepy? No. I am not."



"You doubt my powers. What is this book you want to read? It looks titillating, Mother. I'll sit still for all 300 pages. Commence reading your novel to me."

Get Caught Reading

Remember those reading posters that hung in the library when you were in school?

Hardly Deprived

Some people think it's odd that we don't have a TV. Some people think that Stella is deprived. The funny thing is that I haven't really noticed not having a TV for some time. I forget it is an option. That's not to say that I don't enjoy TV. I love The Food Network and I relish Law and Order marathons, but overall there's not a whole lot on the tube. This summer we spent a lot of time at Kathy's house. While we were there the TV was on. I watched Oprah regularly. It's true. And Stella tried out television, but as with most toys she receives these days, she's always more interested in some other aspect of the toy. As you can see she's fascinated with the buttons while the large screen looms overhead.

Nowadays she spends time pushing an Otter Pop box around our newly finished living room. Her grandma bought her a little car thing that you can push around and learn to walk with, but she prefers her box. Such is life.

Grandparent's Day 2006

Well, Hallmark, color me late. Does anyone else stay on top of this? I guess this is the problem with not having television--no commercials to remind me what to buy.

So, Grandparents-of-Stella, consider this a greeting from your one-and-only grandchild! She appreciates all you do for her and she looks forward to the oneupsmanship that she will be the benefactor of at her birthday party on November 18th. (Yes, mark your calendars!) She wants some cool things. She told me so.

Things Stella Has Put in Her Mouth During Our Hiatus

Bleu Cheese
Spicy Lentil Soup
Insulation
Cigar Tube
Clothes Pin
Kraft Mac-n-Cheese
Chalk
Sand
Dirt

And the dirt? Twice. On two separate occassions, like she enjoyed it and went back for more.

It's Something

This is the girl. And already this is a month old. I'm so out-of-shape for blogging. My mind is a blur and my right index finger has a cut that prohibits typing with ease.

Dereliction of Duty

Well, my computer is still elsewhere, but I've been getting the virtual hairy eyeball from people for not putting up recent pictures of Stella. Here are a few things that have happened:

• Stella can stand on her own
  
• I cut my finger on a can of turkey
  
• Tiny has chewed three toys
  
• My barking petition was DENIED!
  
• We finished Arrested Development Season 3
  
• Stella got a huge bug bite on her cheek so she looks like a chipmunk
  
• I switched to a beta version of Blogger and now I can't upload pictures!
  

What is with your luck? You still get no pictures of the cutest Stella in the world.

Service Temporarily Interrupted

We are enduring more technical difficulties over here. In the meanwhile, my husband learns to mix cocktails and Stella ages rapidly. Unfortunately, I have no proof of either.