OK, Now, Really?

I now join the throngs of women who get excited over things such as this:



Seriously, though, I saw Jessica on Oprah (yes. shut up.) and she literally charmed the socks off of me. Which, I guess, is something she's quite adept at considering she met Jerry Seinfeld at the gym just after returning from a three week Italian honeymoon with her first husband. Long story short, now she's a Seinfeld.

Dem Boots

These were the boots recently acquired at Target for Stella's Halloween costume. Conveniently, we are going to a wedding for one of Jamie's old roommates in Texas two days after Halloween. Will the boots make the trip? What say you, Reader. Cast a vote.

Sibling Harmony

Obviously, when one child is so small that it can neither protest or steal your toys it's very easy to experience sibling harmony. There is a genuine affection on Stella's behalf for her sister. When Gianna cries, Stella wants to investigate and give her a kiss. She likes to greet Gianna with a full body hug in the morning. This usually consists of Stella climbing on our bed and laying her body across Gianna's. Stella tries to calm down a sad Gianna when we're in the car by saying, "Baby, shhh. Baby, shhh."

For now Gianna is very compliant. I put her in the dolly stroller and Stella proceeded in pushing her around, checking in on her well being and generally enjoying the presence of her sister. Stella is also very willing to share her stuffed animals with Gianna. Most likely this is because she can reclaim them according to her whim.

It is her whims, after all, that are sovereign. These days approaching two years old are filled with unintelligible complaints and outbursts about unequal ratios of cottage cheese to pasta at lunch time; or perhaps the discovery of a dog consuming an errant grape on the floor. Then there's always the very heartbreaking discovery of toys remaining on the window sill hours after she placed them there.

She Reads!

It's that time of night.

We come indoors from out. We have just finished composting our dinner and raking the rocks in our Zen garden. Although we are already relaxed and connected with each other and the universe, we try to squeeze in a little reading. Because that's what the public service announcement on the television recommends.


Stella suggests, "Let's read Richard Scarry. He teaches us all about the world called Busy Town where animals and small invertebrates happily co-exist. We should all be so, what's the word, Gianna? Tolerant, yes."


Gianna is distracted by the love song of J. Alfred Ceiling Fan. His fancy grooves have seduced infants for generations. Softly but sternly instructing, so as not to wound Gianna's Spirit of Learning Stella says, "Gianna, stay on task, I'm trying to share with you the beauty that is Reading."


"That's more like it."

Cue the Sexy Bond Girl

I will start to call the TV "Auntie" so Stella can talk about all the fun she has with her "Auntie." Before I had her I thought my children would never spend time with their "Auntie" and how all the kids I babysat for spent a horrible amount of time with their "Aunties." Oh how words/thoughts/deeds/judgments come back to haunt you once you have kids. I know that "Never Say Never" is already a James Bond movie, but I think it should rather be a movie chronicling the life of a self-righteous, know-it-all woman transitioning into new motherhood!

Only a Relative

The following video is around TWO MINUTES long. I realized this after the conclusion because I was so enraptured by the interaction between my two progeny that the world seemed to stop and I lost all track of time as they conducted themselves as the little sisters that they are. Proceed accordingly:

Grandparents will probably watch the entire thing. And return for seconds and even thirds.
Same with Auntie CJ.
Aunts and uncles (OK, the only other ones, Nate and Stasia) will perhaps make it through at least 3/4 of the video depending on how time permits--they're busy getting their own nursery ready.
All other loyal fans...surprise me.

Halloween at Mary Coyle's

We visited Mary Coyle's again. Last time I was there Stella had a meltdown about the ice cream. This time she couldn't really handle the decor in the entryway. It was a bit intense Halloween decorating for a family establishment. Stella was not ruffled by the ice cream, but rather by the rumblings and cackling coming from the entryway. She clung rather tightly to her father.

Jamie's not a big baby dad. He clicks with toddlers more. He's good with Stella. Takes her on outings, plays in the yard, reads, gives her baths and all that jazz. His mom can vouch for how well he handles Stella with TV and ice cream--real champ! But here he is with Gianna after having lulled her to sleep.

A First for Everything

This is the first time Stella elected to sit in her aunt's lap--and smile!

8 Days Old

Stella started sharing her toys! Already!

Morning Mug

Quite possible some of the best morning hair yet...





And then there's this morning hair, so cute because it's barely there.

Disappointment

Perhaps the most difficult part of this entire ordeal is the disappointment. Everyone grows up with expectations: for jobs, family, vacation, possessions, fun, education, etc. Everyone deals with disappointment. I'm not saying that I'm different or exceptional in my feelings. I'm only saying that this has turned out to be one of the hardest things for me to deal with.

A year ago I didn't know what my family would look like in ten years. Quite honestly, I'm not entirely sure right now, but I no longer have the luxury of just waiting to see. This is disappointing to me.

There's a sudden urgency to decide if we want any more children. Well, I feel an urgency. Jamie, he's pretty placid. And I mean that well. He's not disappointed. That's a good thing because then I'd have to deal with disappointing his desires for a large family, or just one that's a little bigger. Thankfully, though, I don't have to deal with that.

I'm dealing with my disappointment. The cost is paid for me, physically, with many tears and loss of sleep. My muscles ache. My heart aches. I hurt.

In addition to disappointment is other people's dismissive ways of dealing with things. I know people mean well when they say things like, "At least you have two beautiful daughters." Or, "Some women with ovarian cancer don't have any children. Be thankful." Or, "You can always adopt." Or, "At least you'll be done raising children when you're still young." I know people mean well. But, People, it's still a loss. For me it's a loss. I am grieving what childbearing whimsy I once had. I am grieving the idea of more children. I am grieving the idea of a possible son.

These things may still happen. But they could happen with much risk to my current family. And if they do happen they must happen quickly. And I am exhausted. I am exhausted and that's why I couldn't decide right now what to do. I needed some space. I needed some mental health. I needed to cry and mentally troubleshoot what I want to do. I had this luxury--again, with much controversy--because my cancer was found so soon. I will not squander this chance to make a clear-headed decision.

But I just had to write this all down. I had to write because I am tired of crying. I'm hot and bothered and overwhelmed with life right now. And this is how I work. I do things intensely and get on with life. I don't want years of grief and disappointment--I don't want any, who does. But if I must feel this to move on, I want to feel it and move on. I want to enjoy year three with Stella, because year two has been a bummer. I want to enjoy year one with Gianna because it might be the last year one I enjoy with any of my own.

I am more than grateful for Stella and Gianna. And I am lucky. I am blessed. I know all this to be true.

This says a lot. Because I don't enjoy pregnancy. I don't do pregnant well. But the end result is absolutely worth it. There's a new person to meet. A new person that's a little mixture of yourself and (hopefully) your favorite other person. And instead of looking at it as greedy, I want to look at it as generous. Generous to want to bring someone into this world because for all its disappointments, it's a very good world in which to be.

Drug-Addled Ass Kicking and Cancer Free

This is my abdomen one week after my latest ovarian cancer surgery. I've never written about it here before because it seemed like such a downer of a thing to write about. But these are my new abs, holding the baby whose eighteen week ultrasound led to the discovery of a very large tumor on my right ovary (may it rest in peace). I have only one left--a controversial decision. Most have both taken out ASAP. I was too out of my mind to make a proper decision. Since November 2006 I've had morning sickness, cancer, laparascopic surgery twice, and a Arizona summer pregnancy. It's been a brutal year. One where I haven't felt myself. I regret not having written more of my feelings--not necessarily blogged them, just written them. It's been a doozy.

Twee Toes

Intense Concentration

People say, "Their play is their work," and this picture, to me, exemplifies that sentiment. It is with such diligence that approaches all her "work."

Dancing With Uncle Rob Pregnant With Stella

Dancing With Uncle Rob Pregnant With Stella
Originally uploaded by alishialinn

I've recently uploaded a lot of photos of Stella's first year and beyond. Makes me cry with nostalgia: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alishiahanson/sets/72157600189154146/

Misery Loves Company & Advice for Aspiring Parents

Two out of three days this week I spent in the company of other mothers and their small children. Being a mother is not miserable. There are definite stages of misery. These stages usually correspond to some developmental occurrence: walking, talking, teething, eating, sleeping through the night, not shitting on the carpet (uh, no names). Spending time with other mothers eases these difficulties. You realize you are not alone and your child gets to play with someone all at the same time.

I told one friend, "Next week you guys can come to my house for screaming and fighting, OK?" That about sums it up sometimes.

Now. Some advice. If you ever speak of your child's sleeping habits--no matter how proud or disinterested-yet-appreciative you are--lie. Because the moment you say anything positive the sleeping fairies will tweak and poke your child all night. You will rue the day you ever thought of encouraging your friend in with their child's sleeping difficulties. You will arise the next day with aching muscles and tired lids and curse the fact that you said, "Yes. My child sleeps."

For the record: My children don't sleep. They are up all night. I'm always tired. And it sux.

Stella's First Veritas Graduation

Stella's First Veritas Graduation
Originally uploaded by alishialinn

This is one of my favorites.

Sunday Morning Chocolate Croissants

Sunday Morning Chocolate Croissants
Originally uploaded by alishialinn

Sunday mornings at our house means an early trip to AJ's for Jamie to pick up the big, fat NY Times and two chocolate croissants. Then we proceed to enjoy said purchases. And we don't comb our hair.

How We Are Coping With the Nights of Not-As-Much-Sleep-As-I-Am-Usually-Used-To (Ending this title in a Prepostion)

Ha Ha. Ah Ha!

I write that long, convoluted title to throw you off a bit. It's supposed to give the impression of a jumbled mind. But jumbled I am not! Triumphant? Somewhat!

Admission: Stella was a stellar nighttime baby. Great sleeper, good at Not Disturbing The Mother. Gianna is not as proficient--yet! I say that with great anticipation and the knowledge that comes from having had only one other baby. But having had only one other baby I know the most basic thing necessary: This, too, shall pass. And it is so true. It is for this reason that I have not lost hope. I am hopeful. And I am not too tired.

I will not diminish the difficulty of waking up between 1-3 am to help a small baby get fed and settled again, but in comparison to many other "jobs" I've had--no big woop. I have read many books these days. Of course, as I was telling Jamie this morning, I don't always remember what I read which leads to me doing the cursory pre-commencement of reading read to recollect (uh, did you follow that?), but I do get some reading done.

Anyway, there is so much that changes with the addition of another body and its temperament to your household. And I am not the kind of mother that holds her child in her arms for the first time and cries tears of joy and unconditional love. I am more the kind of mother who clutches her child in her arms in the middle of the night amidst feeding frustration and is overwhelmed with annoyance and love at the same time. Because I have suddenly realized that after all these months of the physical burden of pregnancy there is a new person here and no matter how annoyed she is making me, I have realized that my love for her surpasses that annoyance. It always feels better to pass through those moments and be able to lie down in peace and quiet knowing that I don't have to regret being severe with a little person.

For good measure: photos of that part of the day when things wind down.

Most Beautiful Couple Award

To paraphrase her anniversary entry:
Two years. Go Them!



To reflect my sentiments for their anniversary:
It's a shame they don't procreate. Keeping all that juicy DNA to Themselves.

Multi Task Master*

me: ok, i just changed a diaper WHILE breastfeeding
christa: haha
me: beat that
christa: that's hilariuls
hilarious
me: not so much hilarious as very demanding and awesome
christa: that's amazing
me: and then i put stella in her bed to sleep
christa: multi tasking on a new level
me: and she didn't cry
christa: while breasfeeding?!
that's amazing
me: yes,
i'm waiting for my review so i can get a raise


(I also just updated my blog while IMing.)



*Good puzzle for final round in Wheel of Fortune.

Six Days

By the time you read this post Gianna will be at least six days old. She's a treat. We all love her. Stella enjoys her but is definitely going through the adjustment phase. It's so sad to see your beloved child become the person at the party who acts out for attention. And really, I think it's harder on me than her. I love Gianna but I miss my Stella days and nights.

Dreamboat Dress Shipwreck Hair

While Stella has some cute clothes and a cute face, she knows not how to be patient with a hair brush. She does not want one near her head for an extended amount of time. And by extended I mean not at all.
For this reason Stella will not be a girl that has long hair until she reaches the Age of Reason. Wherein she masters the ability to wield a hairbrush to tame her mane--including the part underneath the top layer. I know all too well the consequences of poor hair management. When I was about ten my mother realized that I had somewhat of a rat's nest residing at the nape of my neck because I only ever brushed the top of my hair. I was given some choices:

a) Let my mom brush it out
b) Brush it myself and maintain outstanding tresses
c) Cut it off

I chose the second option.

I retain the vivid memory of an afternoon spent with The Knot--my head flipped over while I relentlessly stroked my hair to avoid having a bob at the age of ten. I did succeed but not without much wailing and bemoaning my plight.

So it makes sense that this is my child:

In Response

Over at another blog there is a thoughtful somewhat Op/Ed piece about car "flare" shall we call it. If you don't know what I'm talking about when I use the word flare in quotes think of Jennifer Aniston in Office Space working at TGIFriday's.

In response to the aforementioned blog, if I die, please do not memorialize me on the rear window of your vehicle. Please. Don't.

Because We Have So Much Free Time Before the Baby

Revealing Her Inner Sean Penn

Revealing Her Inner Old Testament Hebrew Self

Genesis 37:29-34 And Reuben returned unto the pit; and, behold, Joseph was not in the pit; and he rent his clothes. And he returned unto his brethren, and said, The child is not; and I, whither shall I go? And they took Joseph's coat, and killed a he-goat, and dipped the coat in the blood; and they sent the coat of many colors, and they brought it to their father, and said, This have we found: know now whether it is thy son's coat or not. And he knew it, and said, It is my son's coat: an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt torn in pieces. And Jacob rent his garments, and put sackcloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days.

36 Weeks and Andy Rooney

Me and Gianna. I'm totally sucking in my stomach.
Included in this pregnancy edition: one of my scars from my laparascopic surgery! Rad.



Did I say Andy Rooney? I meant Andy Warhol.

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.