I Think I'm Back

Something about the new year always makes me want to blog.  That whole introspective, retrospective thing that I do makes me want to get it all down on paper.

Of course, that is even easier since I haven't been blogging, I know I'm not re-stating myself. :-P

2013's resolution was to find happiness.  Did I succeed?  No.  No, not really.  I'm still just as confused as I was before.  And I wouldn't say I exist in a state of more happiness.  What I would say is that I tried to live more for myself.  Which is something that can be really difficult for new moms to do.  And I think I succeeded in that.  I also tried to take care of some of the stuff that was definitely making me unhappy, and I think I had some success there too.  So while I might not be seeing rainbows and butterflies everywhere, I do think I'm more... stable?  content?  than I was before.

But I have also let some things slide.  So here is the mega update, and then tomorrow I'll post my goals for the new year.

On working out:
It was a tough year for me.  For the first 4 months of the year, when I was living at AD house, I was afraid to run outside, but I was a good girl and did a lot of P90X, and then when I'd be at home I couldn't run outside because of the Z, so I biked a lot on the trainer.  I did run/walk the Heatherington Fun Run with Grasshopper, and that was one of only two races I completed this year, the other being the Stallion Stampede 5K, which I should really do a report on some time.... I was signed up for the Thundercloud Sub Turkey Trot 5 miler in Austin, but I was sidelined by a really really bad bout of bronchitis in mid October that I am only just now feeling almost completely over (except a pulled muscle from all the coughing that persists in my left side near the bottom of my rib cage).  That did turn into the Kid's first Tot Trot, though!  And she did great!

On home life:
We bought a new house.  It seems kind of crazy based on everything that has been going on, but there is this part of me that thinks it may be just what we need.  It is essentially the same size, but one story, newer, and in much better condition.  It is less than a mile from the old house, and even closer to my parents.  It all happened very quickly - my dad was out for a walk one day and called me thinking we might be interested.  We went and looked and I actually thought P was going to nix it, but he didn't.  So the next weekend we went and looked at a few comps and decided to make an offer!  We've been in it about 5 weeks now, and tomorrow's post I'll outline some to-dos.  (Some = A LOT.)  But I'm proud of us because I feel like we are getting accomplished every single day, and that is muuuuuuch preferable to me than the stagnation I was feeling in the old place.

On the Kid:
She's 3 now.  She started reading (i.e. sounding words out, not just memorizing) just after her 3rd birthday.  She is active and precocious and beautiful and frustrating. :-)  She loves to draw and color and play dress up and sing and dance.  She loves her kitties (of which there are 4 (FOUR!) now).  Her best friend's name is Scarlett.  They were born on the same day, so we did a joint birthday party at the Children's Museum and they had a blast!  She also did swimming lessons this summer and I was so proud of how hard she worked and how quickly she was learning.  Her hair is almost to her waist, still very thin and soft and curly at the ends.  Not as red as mine, but I'm still calling it red.  She is practicing really hard now at hopping on one foot.

On AD house:
We did finally rent it out the second half of the year.  Those tenants are gone (we knew they were short term), but we have a lease signed and ready to go that starts tomorrow!  We managed to get all of the floors redone, 2 new window units in, and today is the last day of work for repainting and sheetrock repair.  We think this new tenant (friend of P's family) will hopefully be a 6 monther, at least.

On books:
My committee is winding down.  This year we had to have all books ready by early December.  So I must say I'm enjoying some VERY light reading of stuff that I want to read for the first time in 2 years!

On work:
This year was the hell that I expected it to be.  We are finally up and running on the new system (since July) but I am still working to convert all of our old processes over.  But I can finally, finally see the silver lining.

By the numbers:
1.5 million records migrated to the new system
411 miles biked
91 miles run
38 books read
8 trips (Salt Lake, Cleveland, Austin, Fredericksburg, Big Bend, Dallas, Ft Worth, Galveston)
5 kittens rescued
3 houses
Still only 1 Kid. :-P

Ok, that's where I've been.  More tomorrow on where I'm trying to go!

On (Lack of) Motivation

My Kid is sick.

I'm not gonna lie: it was a rough, ROUGH weekend.  The kind where she basically was an emotional basketcase.  Horrible.  All we wanted was for her to go to sleep.  For the silence.  And peace.

Of course P and I got it too.

So then we're sick and dealing with it.

My plan was to run on Friday.  P90X on Sunday after I got to AD house.  P90X Monday morning.

I did none of those things.

And honestly when I woke up this morning and turned over and went back to sleep, it felt goooooood.

The dangerous, dangerous bit is the part of me that thought, "Oh, well, I missed Sunday and Monday, that's practically half the week, I may as well throw in the towel for the rest of the week.  Let myself "recover"."


UPDATE:
Z went back to the doctor on Tuesday and it was pneumonia AND an ear infection.  Lovely.  (She had been last week and they said cold.  Lovely.)

My lungs tightened up massively on Tuesday.  Feels sort of like bronchitis.  Still no fever though.  I am throwing in the towel on the week, but I think I have crossed the line from lazy to really trying to do what is right for my body.  But of course, starting back up next week will be a beast.  But I WILL do it.

Wordless Wednesday

Salt & Pepper shaker stacking = super fun!

Watermelon = super yummy!

Daddy = super cool!

I Feel Like a Donkey

Or, rather, an ass.

Last week Z went to the doctor on Monday about the longest standing cough in the history of the world. She received antibiotics, when we promptly began administering, and the cough wandered away, but the fuss-factor intensified.

So much that on Wednesday morning when I dropped her at daycare the teacher was hypothesizing that the antibiotics were upsetting her tummy because, "she's fussing a lot for no apparent reason, and that isn't normal for her". I agreed.

Saturday morning at the grocery store she wanted to be held.b By me. And only me. The. Entire. Time. At one point I was convinced that my arm was about to fall off, so I tried putting her down and convincing her to take a FUN!!! ride on the shopping cart, something that she had totally adored the previous week. She sat down crying, "No mommy, 'top it!" I said, "Ok, Z, if you're going to sit, I'm going to finish shopping, bye!" and started walking away. O.M.G. She escalated to a full wail, jumped up and ran over to me. I crouched down and hugged her while she cried and cried, and then (sucker) picked her up and resumed shopping. I felt like the meanest person in the world. I almost cried from my heart breaking. I'm still almost crying just typing this.

I mean, I would do it again, probably the exact same way. I don't want to get into those battles with her, and I called her bluff. But, oh, it hurt!

Anyways, she continued the random unreasonable crying, and just when I was so frustrated I was getting ready to pinch her little head off, I had a brainwave.

"Zoë, can you show Mommy your teeth?"

She opens her mouth. I can't see anything.

"Can I touch them?"

She leaves her mouth open. I reach in and feel, wait for it, at least FOUR molars breaking through.

This is weird: she has 4 front teeth on top and bottom, no sign of any canines except a big smooth-gummed gap, and now molars coming in, both sides, top and bottom.

Poor baby. I wrote her a free pass for the rest of the weekend. And felt even more like an ass.

Family Planning Update

So, my job decided to go the more difficult route.  I found out last week.

I was absolutely stunned.  I had pretty much decided I was going to run off to Paris and get pregnant, but now, nooooooo, no babies for me until 2014.  I say it sarcastically, but I actually cried.  At work.  Which is stupid, because really that only means like an 8 month delay in baby-making activities.  Ish.  (And an exciting and difficult 18 months of work.  Which is pretty cool.  But I'm not letting that get in the way of my whining.)

There is a part of me that is afraid that if we don't try for another baby now, we never will.  (Terrible two's = effective birth control method.)

There is a part of me that is afraid that if we don't try now, I'm getting too old.  (I know I'm not really.  No one said any of this is logical.)  Maybe not too old for this one - 2014 would mean 32 or 33 - depending on how long it takes to get preggo, but what if we wanted more?  (I don't think that is likely, but I'm in the mood to keep that door wide open until I decide to shut it.)  Then I'd be of "advanced maternal age".  Which at best just means a few extra annoying tests and probably sounds worse than it is.

But also, think about it:  I devoted 30 months, exactly 2.5 years, of my body to Zoë.  10 months of incubation, followed by 20 months of nursing.  That takes a toll on a girl's body.  I know I can do it again.  Right now.  I know I'm ready to do it again.  Right now.  But it seems like the longer I wait, the harder it is going to be to recover.  (This may be a bit logical, but is definitely overly dramatic.)  If I did it again, right now, I'd be 33 1/2 when I was done.  Somehow that seems more reasonable than 35 when I'm done.

I went back and looked at all of my angst filled posts from the last year, and I guess nothing ever really changes, except now I *am* sure I want another.  So at least there is that.  Eventually.  (Sigh.)

A Day with Daddy

Last week the Z missed a day of school for a fever.  I had to work, so Preston had her all day.  I could hardly stand it, so I kept asking him to text me pictures, and behold: a day with Daddy.

Breakfast!

 

Asleep on the way to/from the doctor's office.

What Daddy built during her EPIC 3 hour nap.

Snack = In Mah Sick Belleh!

Scarf, Babushka, Hajib, Daddy's shirt - it's all the same.

"Helping" Daddy.

Sick day home with Daddy = priceless.

BFN

This morning I peed on a stick.

You see, it all started with this last weekend.  I was bitchy.  Super bitchy.  Unreasonably bitchy.  Aware of the bitchy but couldn't contain it bitchy.  Bitchy on a level that I haven't been since the weekend before I found out that I was pregnant with the Z.

Then my boobs hurt when I flipped over the other night.

And this morning, when I first woke up, I thought, "Gods, what I wouldn't give for a piece of Uncle Gary's beer battered fish."

I started thinking about Ross and Rachel and the 3% that "SHOULD BE ON THE BOX!!!", and started thinking that maybe we were the 3%.  Because we're not trying.

So this morning I peed on a stick.  The stick said I'm not pregnant.

Gotta say: relieved.  And maybe a little... just a little... sad?

In Case I'm Not Here Tomorrow

My Dear Baby Zoë,

There is so many serious medical issues going on in your Daddy's family.  Aunt Dollie, Mawmaw, and now Papa.  Daddy and I aren't expecting to have anything go wrong, but after seeing Aunt Dollie worried about her will, and Nana not knowing a lot of stuff that would leave her in a bind if Papa died... well.... Daddy and I are going to get ourselves to a lawyer and get a will.

A will for us isn't really complicated.  Each of us gets everything, or if we both die, you get everything.  It isn't rocket science for a little family like ours.  The biggest decision is really who would take care of you if you lost us both.  We have a lot of good people in our life, so the problem isn't that no one is there, it is simply figuring out who would raise you like we would, or like we would want.

And that led me to this letter.  Baby girl, if I'm not here tomorrow, here is what I've learned.

I want you to play in the mud.  And enjoy it.

I want you to take classes in things that interest you.  Keep them up if you love them, or move on if you don't.  But explore the world.  I took classes in ballet, tap, gymnastics, piano, and voice, and violin.

Which leads me nicely to: play an instrument.  Any one you want.  And if you hate it, try another.  Being in band was one of the best, most fun things I ever did.  It was also one of the more difficult: from band I learned how to practice hard over a long period of time - how to work towards something.

I regret that I didn't do a sport.  I wish I had, and so I hope that you do.  I think playing on a team would teach similar lessons as band did, but in a different way.  I also think it would set you up for a lifetime of healthy living.

I want you to eat whatever you want.  But in reasonable, moderate portions.  If you are like me, you'll be able to eat whatever you want until you are in your mid-20's.  Enjoy that!  Then after that, be reasonable, be moderate, and be healthy.  I don't want you to fight to be a stick-figure, but obesity leads to many challenges that I also don't want for you.  I want you to live a long and healthy life.

I want you to be given your first car, but I want it to be inexpensive (but reliable) and used.  And I want you to drive it all the way through college.  Then once you have your first job, if you want a newer better car, you can buy it yourself with your own money.  There are a few reasons for this: most teenagers get into wrecks.  I know you have probably grown up to be a very responsible teenager, but bad things can also happen to good people, and your lack of experience dictates a less valuable car.  Plus, the insurance cost on a newer, nicer, more expensive car would be insane.  I want to buy you a car and insure it for you.  But I need to be able to afford it.

I want you to go to college.  I want you to have fun there, but also work hard and get good grades.  There is time enough for both things.  Get a degree in something you love and are passionate about.  If that something isn't the most lucrative... also get a back-up degree in something that makes you easily employable in a field that earns decent money.  Get both degrees NOW, the first time you're in college, and trust me that this is a good idea.  It will be much more difficult to go back to college later.

When you buy your first house, you want your monthly mortgage payments to be less than 25% of your monthly take home pay.  If you walk into an older house and see how beautiful it *could be*, then you are going to spend A LOT of money on that house.  Plan accordingly.

Marry only one person.  And don't have a child until you are with that person.  In fact, don't have a child until you have been married to that person for a few years.  Your Gaga's rule for me was no babies until I was 30. I broke her rule a bit: I married your Daddy when I was 26, and had you when I was 29, but close enough. Your Gaga wasn't saying this because she didn't want grandbabies.  In fact, she desperately wanted grandbabies.  But she wanted me to be in a good place in my life for you.  And I was.  I want that for you too.

I want you to take vacations.  Travel.  See the world.

I want you to have the freedom to choose your religion.  Or lack thereof.  Don't follow the crowd on this one.  Religion is an intensely personal choice.  Only you know what you need to believe in your heart to make this world a better place for you.  Believe that.

Your name, Zoë, means life.  Your father and I chose it for you because we believe that life is the most sacred thing.  It isn't to be wasted.  Live every day to the fullest.

I love you with all my heart.  I always will.  And if you are reading this because I'm gone, then I'm sure my last thought was for you.  I love you.
Mama

My Kid is a Genius

We went for a walk after dinner, and the Z looked up at the crescent moon, pointed at it, and said, "Moon!". We were floored! Then she said, "Up high." Holy shit, this Kid is a freaking genius.

3 Pics Thursday

Silly reading with Daddy.

"Helping" Mommy bike.

Just a cool photo!

First Tooth Pic

I've been trying to get a picture of Zoë's first tooth since it came in almost 2 months ago.

Tooth.

This is the best I've been able to do.

Weekend Wrap-up

Here's a long weekend wrap-up for you, complete with photos!

Fun in the car as I came home from work.

Friday was a normal day, except that I had to take the Menace to the car doc AGAIN because the idle control valve thingy that they installed the other month really doesn't seem to be working properly.  And except we hit the carwash on the way home from dinner at Jax. And by "hit the carwash" I mean "visited the awesome gumball machine".

Contemplating her vertical leap ability.

Saturday morning we went to the Madza dealership for Preston's car's 10k check-up.  All systems nominal.  And we browsed at CX-7s and CX-9s for me.  You know, just in case the Menace continues to misbehave.

The dealership must have left their balloons out over night just for the Z.

After that we headed back home to try putting the Z down for a nap sans boob for the first time ever.  I had asked the daycare ladies for advice on Friday, and basically the party line was (gently) hold her down with one hand on her back and pat her butt in a heartbeat pattern.  It'll take 20 minutes, at least, and she'll squirm and struggle, but eventually she'll fall asleep.  Don't give up, don't lose patience.

Well, they were right about everything but the 20 minutes - it was more like 35!  But eventually she did comply, and she took a nice looooong nap once she was finally asleep!

Once she woke up, we headed to a local pumpkin patch to pick out a pumpkin to carve.  It was really pretty cool: they had a little goat pen and tons of pumpkins, and for when she's older, hayrides, train rides, and a bounce house slide thingy.  But for now, we just looked at the goats and all the pumpkins and all the other kids.  Z had a great time!

Shy at the petting zoo.

Little pumpkin in the pumpkin patch.

 We stopped by Freebirds on the way home, but Z was asleep in the car, so we made it take out.

Sunday we watched the very last episode of Star Trek: Voyager.  I can't remember if I've mentioned it before, but I've been doing a watch of every Star Trek ever.  I was never a Trekkie before - it seemed like the series never hit me in the right way or at the right time.  So it started when I saw the new movie.  I wanted to understand all the references, so I started watching TOS.  Then when I was done, I was thoroughly sucked in and that led nicely into TNG, which led to DS9 (watched while pregnant and then breastfeeding), and finally Voyager.  And now I'll move on to Enterprise.

The funny thing is that I get the same feeling with the end of an episodic series that I get when I finish a long good book.  I mean, I've been watching Voyager for probably 9 months, now.  I cried during the last episode.  Until the end I claimed DS9 as my favorite Star Trek series, but now I'd have to say Voyager - I liked the ending that much better.  I hope Enterprise doesn't disappoint, and can't even imagine what I'm going to do when I've seen all of them!

Sunday also involved some extreme cooking, and a belly ache.  More on the cooking in a later post.  No more on the belly ache, unless it attacks the Z. :-)  Onward!

Baby Excuses Over

I just read this.  And she's right.  One year is long enough to play the "I just had a baby" card.  I'm still allowed to play the "I'm nursing" card, but that's a much smaller card!!  Time to buck up or shut up.

On Vitamins

This conversation actually happened.  It was the day before Z's 1 year well-baby check-up.

"Are you giving Zoë her vitamin drops?"
"No, I haven't been for months - they were nasty, she hated them, and she just spit them out immediately.  I decided it wasn't a battle worth fighting."
"Are you going to tell the Pediatrician?"
"Of course."
"Good.  Maybe that's why she's such a small baby."
"What, because I don't give her vitamins?"
"Yes."
"That's BULLSHIT.  I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Ironically, I heard this story on NPR on my way into work this morning.


People began taking vitamin supplements in the 1930's (shockingly little history on the supplement industry out there, sorry I resorted to Wikipedia which isn't exactly an authoritative source, but it does illustrate my point), and I can only assume widespread use didn't begin until later.  So that means that humans have managed to survive and thrive as a species without vitamins for how long?

MY BABY is NOT skinny because she doesn't get her daily vitamin drops.  She is skinny because her mom was naturally skinny (until she hit her mid 20's),  her dad was naturally skinny (until he got married), and genetically she comes from a long line of primarily not-fat people.  She was born skinny (perhaps because I ran while pregnant?), and according to her Pediatrician, as long as she stays in the same general percentage zone, there is no cause for concern.  Read: she's just a skinny baby.  Furthermore, she is breastfed, and I feed her a well-balanced diet of primarily organic solid food.  For the record, I did tell the Pediatrician that I don't give the Z her vitamins, and she didn't even bat an eyelash.

And, the American Academy of Pediatrics ONLY recommends a vitamin D supplement.  Which I was giving to the Z until the Pediatrician prescribed the nasty iron vitamin drops that made us quit altogether.  If I had done my proper research back then, I would have just bought a cheap OTC D supplement and kept calm and carried on.  Instead, I let myself get freaked out and had an over-reaction (to quit entirely).  I'll know better next time, but in the meantime, my kid is just fine.

I love this link.

Just eat a balanced, healthy diet of whole foods that you cook yourself.  Know what you're eating, and try to do a good job of getting a variety of foods.  That's it.  It isn't rocket science.  And you don't have to pad the pockets of shady vitamin companies.

Happy Birthday, Zoë!

My dear, sweet baby girl,

You're not such a baby any more!

I've spent 30 years living, and I never knew the difference a year could make until I met you.  I mean, think about it: in one single turn around the sun, you've: grown almost a foot(!),  tripled your weight(!), eaten your first tasty morsels, taken your first steps, spoken your first words, blown your first kisses, laughed your first giggles, and smiled the first of what I hope is a lifetime of smiles.

You've transformed from a tiny little passive (screamy, poopy, sleepy) newborn into an actual person with wants and needs and emotions and reactions and preferences!

I'm getting a little tear in my eye just thinking about it.

So where are you at a year?

You're 19 pounds 2 ounces (17th percentile) and 29.5 inches tall (60th percentile).  I don't remember the circumference of your head, but it is in the 85th percentile!  You're walking.  A LOT.  And very well, too.  Almost running, really.

You love to dance.  And you love music of any sort.  The best is still the theme song from Star Trek Voyager, but you also really love Everlong by the Foo Fighters.  And you clap your hands when we sing If You're Happy And You Know It.

Your favorite food is fruit.  Yes, I know that fruit is a food GROUP, but you really love all fruit.  You eat cut up peaches, strawberries, plums, pears, and you squeal with glee when a jar (or more likely bag) of baby fruit wanders your way.  Veggies are totally nom nom when they're mixed with fruit, though you eat them pretty well without fruit, too.  You were a really great eater until very recently, but just in the last week or so, not so much.  I'm not sure if you're developing your preferences and you've just decided that everything I'm serving you tastes like dog food, or if you're teething.  Right now I'm betting on teething, because you've still got only 1 tooth, your bottom front left tooth.  Surely that right one is coming in, right??  Right???

You prefer showers to baths, and you love to play with the water.  You also love to watch Mommy brush her teeth, and to grab her brush and pretend to brush your hair.  And then lose the brush.  You say brush, sort of, it sounds like "Buh....s".  You've actually got a ton of words: hi, bye-bye, uh oh (those 3 are the ones that sound like they should), kitty (keeeee), dog (dah! while pointing at a dog or a picture of a dog), ball (bah! while pointing at a ball or a picture of a ball or one of Mommy's witch-catching glass balls that hangs in the window), diaper (bah-puh), eyes/ice (aye...s while pointing to eyes or glasses or ice in a cup (your first homonym!)), oh wow (which sounds pretty good, but you ellide the words together, usually said when you enter a room, or when you see something cool), book (buh!), done (duh! as you pull off the boob or karate chop a spoonful of food away from your mouth), up (uh! as you stand up or get picked up), down (duh, but with a different inflection (lower pitched) than the duh that equals done and usually uttered as you squat or sit down), and you've just started with milk (muh, while signing milk).  You can say "mama" and "dada", but you haven't bothered to label me or your father with those syllables yet, although I think you may be getting close.  You also moo/bark when asked, "What does a cow/dog say?".  And Daddy swears that you quacked at the ducks last weekend at the park. You can point to your nose, your tooth, and your hair when asked.  No wonder your head is so big, you need a lot of space to store so much information!  Your Pediatrician says that you know more than 6 times the average number of words (1-3) for your age.  Mommy was so very proud to hear that!

You love to turn the pages of the books we read to you, and you love your books.  They are the go-to distraction for ending your meltdowns.  Not that you meltdown very often - usually when you fall, although you've been a little more meltdown-prone lately.  Teeth, right?  Not the beginning of toddler tantrums, right??

Your favorite person in the world is your Gramma.  You run to her every time.  And she loves you just as much.

You love the wagon that they pull you around school in so much that we've gotten you one of your own for your birthday.

You still prefer to fall asleep while nursing, but at school they just lay you down and pat your back til you go to sleep.  Honestly, I don't know how they do that.  When we've tried that method, you just stand yourself up and look at us like we're crazy.  And then yell at us.  I have a vague fear that I'll wean you and we'll never be able to get you to sleep again...  You sleep about 9-10 hours a night, and nap twice during the day, usually totaling another 2ish hours.  You obviously missed the memo telling you that you need closer to 14 hours a day at your age.  You're pretty scheduled, but you've scheduled yourself.  You wake up around 6, drink milk, eat breakfast, drink some more milk, and almost exactly 4 hours later you go down for a nap.  When you wake up, you do it all again, again staying up for 4 hours, exactly.  And then you do it all one more time.  You require food or milk at 2 hour (or less) intervals for as long as you are awake.  Little girl, for such a little girl you can sure pack it away.  At least until last week when I started serving you dog food.

You greet every morning with a smile.  You are funny, and cute, and precious.  You are the light of my life, my sunshine, my reason for being.  I can't believe you're already year old, and I simultaneously can't believe you've only been with me for a year!

I love you so much.  I can't wait to see what your next year brings!
Mommy

I'm Naked!!

Not like that. :-Þ  I've forgotten my phone today, sheesh!

But I really miss the goober.  Not only is it my phone, so it makes me feel safe on the long commute in case of trouble, but it is also my mobile toy, keeping me occupied during breaks and lunch and while I wait for people to show up to meetings, and it is my lifeline, providing a contact number for daycare in case something happens with the Z.

But daycare has other numbers.  And I work in a building FILLED with books - I should be able to find some way to occupy my brain at lunch today!

In the meantime, I'll just get back to researching wagons to get the Z for her birthday, and be extra careful not to forget my phone tomorrow.

Where I Was

I normally don't indulge in these types of posts.  They make me sad, for one, and for another, I question their relevance - sometimes they seem just like self-indulgance.  But this one, this one I'm writing for my daughter.

Dear Zoë,

There are a few things in your life that you'll remember - that will truly stick with you.  Moments in time.  There is your wedding day, and the birth of your child.  And unfortunately, there are the tragedies.  I've got 3.  3 tragedies that will always stick with me - one for every decade I lived.  When I was little, in Kindergarten, the Challenger.  And in my first year of college, the Aggie Bonfire collapse.  And when I was only a little older, September 11th.  Some day I'll write about each of these experiences for you but today on the 10th anniversary of September 11th, I'll write about it.

I woke up on the morning of September 11, 2001 and headed to a 9am class - I think it was an anthropology or archaeology class...  At the time I lived in the Rio Grande apartment in Austin with Emily on top of the pizza joint - my balcony faced the Tower to the east.  I don't remember anything special about that morning.  The class was 9-11am, and then I headed over to the stadium to pick up my wristband for the Texas-OU ticket lottery.  I remember noticing a crowd of people standing watching a TV, one of those TVs that is mounted above a concession stand so that you don't miss the game while you're buying food.  I thought that was weird, but hurried by as I was headed to another class.  This is where my memory gets hazy.  I got there and was surprised at how few people were in class.  The professor never showed, so I waited the requisite 15 minutes and then headed back to the apartment, again noticing how few people were around campus, and thinking it odd.  When I got back, Emily and her boyfriend were planted in front of the TV, and that's how/when I found out.

I planted myself right next to them for the next several days, leaving only to sleep and go to classes, almost all of which were cancelled when I arrived.  I have a strong memory of Dr. Armstrong coming into my Latin class with a 2 line ode, taking about 5 minutes to translate it with us while obviously holding back tears, and then abruptly striding out.  I remember how eerily quiet it was in the days following with no people out and about and no airplanes in the sky.  I remember this irrational fear that we could be in danger, blocks away from the capitol building - I now think that probably everyone in big cities felt that fear - no one really knew what was happening, and if there were going to be more attacks.  And I distinctly remember the first time I heard an airplane in the sky again and how *wrong* and scary it felt.

I can't tell you when things went back to normal, because I don't think they ever really did.  I don't live my life in fear the way I did in the weeks following.  But I remember a carefree time before 9/11, and I don't think that ever really came back.

I didn't know anyone who died that day.  But when I read the stories of those who died, or the stories of the loved ones who survived, my heart breaks for the people who were there and their families.  No one can ever lessen the impact of what happened - of the hole that was ripped into the fabric of so many lives.  I look at you, my sweet baby, and cannot imagine the gut-wrenching loss.

But I also look at you and I hope for peace.  You and all babies are the epitome of how people should be - open, trusting, caring, curious, inquisitive, and peaceful.  In my heart I believe that these qualities you demonstrate are the core of every human being, and all the hate and anger and strife are learned behaviors that we can all rise above.  I wish you a world filled with enlightened, intelligent, peaceful people, where the memory of this tragedy lives on as a lesson of the dire consequences we face as individuals and as a society when we allow negative emotions to overpower us.  I wish for you a world in which you don't have one tragedy per decade to remember to your little one.

In the meantime, it's a big world out there - be safe.

Love always and forever,
Mama

Whatever Happened to My Lunchbox?

Whatever happened to my lunchbox?

When came the day 

That it got thrown away?

And don't you think I should have had some say

In that decision?

--John Mayer 

One of the things I did while on vacation was sort through (some of) a giant stack of boxes of my childhood that my loving parents delivered recently.

There was all kinds of crazy crap in there: my cast from when I broke my arm in 5th grade, my first earring (one of two), music, books, and a boatload of china dolls.

Preston and I were talking and it seems like every kid has something that they collect.  Both of us hoped our collections would be worth something some day... he collected comic books, and I collected china dolls.  I had a ton, and some of them were really beautiful.  I never played with them, because they were a collection - they lived up on a high shelf that ran the length of my room, to be looked at but rarely touched.  (My rules/choice, not my parents'.)

Anyways, when I left for college, a large part of my old room was still intact, including the dolls.  When my parents sold that house, they packed it all up and moved it to the barn at the farm.  And now it is migrating back into my life.

It's a funny thing that happens to you when you go through stuff like that.  There is always a pervading, "Gosh, we saved a lot of JUNK!"  Which is always followed (in my head) with a, "I wonder how much money I could have now if I hadn't wasted all of it!"  But then you react emotionally to things, too.  Saving that cast.  Saving a bundle of letters that my parents/grandparents/friends sent to me at band camp one year - it's like a snapshot in time!  Cried over my Granny's letters and saved ALL of them.  But the most surprising thing to me was my indignation at how my parents stored those dolls.  It looked like they had just tossed them into boxes, then they didn't even tape the boxes up to keep out stuff, then when they stored them in the barn they got spiders, RATS, etc all up in them.

I am grateful that my parents love me enough to have saved so many artifacts from my childhood.  Sometimes I wish they hadn't when I am struggling with an emotional attachment that is preventing me from throwing away an item that I had completely forgotten the existence of until I opened a dirty box.  Or when my hamstrings are still sore A WEEK LATER from bending over to open/try to vacuum all the crud off the dolls...  Or when they boxed them up with such a lack of care that I have to see my once-prized possessions in the middle of a rat's next made from their stuffing - that's just not how I want to remember them.

Righteous indignation: wandering around grumbling that I'll never do that to the Z.  (Ha, we'll see.)

On Considering a Second, Update

It isn't my period. (Unless it is my period plus food poisoning, or my period with puking as a symptom...)

I threw up this morning, which you could stack up to morning sickness or food poisoning.  So still no tie-breaker on the potential pregnancy issue.

I'm tempted to take another test on Sunday, if I can make myself wait that long.  In the meantime, I'm scared to eat and still queasy.

Weight this morning: 130.6.  Oh, what a little hurl won't do to bring me almost to goal weight, cruel irony!

On Considering a Second, Part Deaux

Subtitled: "The Pregnancy Scare".

So let's just say that it is possible that I'm pregnant.  If I'm pregnant, I'd be about, oh, say exactly a week-and-a-half pregnant.

TMI warning: I have not had a period since having the Z.  So there is no way to know if I'm fertile, and there is no period to "miss" to indicate pregnancy to me.

Things that make me think I'm pregnant: I've been super moody the past few days (not normal at this level), I'm tired (so tired I could hardly pry my eyes open this morning), I'm crampy/nauseous today, I have been more sore than I should be from opening boxes/working out for longer than I should be, I *feel* pregnant, all these "symptoms" are exactly as I felt with Zoë.

Things that make me think I'm not pregnant: I could be moody because I'm getting my period back, I could be tired because I'm returning to 6 hrs of sleep from a vacation of 9 hrs a night, I could be crampy because I'm starting my period or because I ate something bad, *feeling* pregnant is just a weird mental thing, I am lacking one symptom (sore boobs) that I felt with Zoë, and I've noticed no change in my milk supply, I took a pregnancy test yesterday morning and it was negative (But I think it might be too early??).

All this really brought around the debate over having a second.  I was actually settling into a phase of being totally satisfied with only having 1 and not wanting a second, oh the irony!  Let me start by saying that it is ok if I'm preggo.  It would be an "accident", but a happy one.  But when I realized that I thought I might be, I had frantic thoughts about how totally irresponsible we were for not thinking this through more!  I mean, we have the Z to think about now, we aren't just having another baby for ourselves, she's going to be forever affected by our decisions as well, and we just did what we did and might be what we might be now.  Crazy/heavy stuff.

All of the advantages/disadvantages of having 2 and timing and all that from my previous post (which, btw, was totally hormone-fueled, because it subsided eventually) still stand.  This is really just about the mental uncertainty that a pregnancy "scare" can really bring to the surface for me.  I wish I knew for sure.  I'll test again in a week or so (or I'll get my period), and we'll know for sure.  But this limbo is crazy-making.  Crazy-making!

If we aren't pregnant now, I still haven't swung one way or the other on the Great Considering a Second Debate.  This experience has changed nothing, as far as that goes.  Which may mean that any/all babies born into my family need to be happy accidents, because I don't know if you truly can ever logic your way into a baby!