One More Mommy

Thoughts of a mom and her husband, son, daughter, pets, friends, job (or lack thereof), house, family, trying to be more ecologically aware...

Monday, October 31, 2005

Ker Thump

Luke has really gotten a hang of this crawling thing. He started creeping at seven months, and kept that as his preferred method of ambulation for a month. About three weeks ago he mixed in straight up hands and knees crawling with his creeping, so he'd crawl crawl creep creep creep. He gradually increased his crawling until last week he was straight up crawling most of the time.

Now it seems that crawling is insufficient. He's decided to add to his movement repertoire, and throw in a little crab leg. So now he's on his hands and his left knee, but his right leg is extended straight. I imagine it doesn't bother his knees as much, and it gives him a little more kick (hee!). He ends up moving half sideways since his right leg moves his butt along a little faster.

When he was creeping, he only ever creeped into the wall. From a standstill. Just move headfirst into the wall, which was an inch or two from his face. This coordinated movement thing? Not so easy! But the creeping injuries were minimal.

The crab walk? Well, because he's up on his hands he's now 6-8 inches away from the floor, not two or so. And because his right leg is straight? His body is pitched at an angle towards the floor, and so the injuries are starting.

This morning, he was gleefully crab-crawling around, lost his balance and pitched face first into the floor. And was furiously upset of course. This was after he had already slipped into the sink from the bathroom counter, which scared him but did not hurt him.

He's an active child, he wants to go and explore, he cries in frustration when we close gates or doors. He's also a fairly cautious child. I've seen him stand up under a table and bump his head, and then afterwards continue standing up, but while reaching and looking for that thing that hit him before. He hasn't tried heading down the stairs yet (and yes, we're there in case he does decide to try it).

He's gotten himself into a freestanding position a few times now, I've no doubt that he's going to be walking by Christmas or before (I still predict 10 months). And then bumps and bruises are going to increase in rapid succession. I'd bubble wrap the house, but that's a big added expense... maybe I should just get him a helmet?

Friday, October 28, 2005

Dday Approaches

Luke has been creeping now for well over a month. He currently varies between a full on crawl and then swaps to creeping (army crawl). He's been pulling up on things and trying to climb for quite awhile, too. Now, he's made his next move to full on motility.

He stood, unassisted. It's rather odd seeing your infant standing without touching anything. He's done it twice now, once for me last night, and once for Esposo this morning. That first step is coming soon (and for the record, my bet was that he'd be walking by ten months).

I seem to have gotten a mover and a shaker.

I'm Just Sayin'

"Takei joined the "Star Trek" cast in 1966 as Hikaru Sulu, a character he played for three seasons on television and in six subsequent films. He received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1986." (Associated Press)

As I said here, they're handing these stars out a little freely.

Sulu has a star. For ONE role. I have a soft spot for the original Star Trek, but really, that's ridiculous.

And if someone can point me to the internet book o' proper creditation so I can post parts of articles without getting sued for plagiarism? Would be much appreciated.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

One Constant

I've had a certain item in my life for a rather long time - roughly twelve years. It was with me in high school, came to college and lived in my dorm room, my apartments, and then headed off with me to my post college apartment. It's now lived in the two homes I've owned as well.

Through boyfriends and now in marriage, it's still there. Friends have come and gone in my life, it was there through my pregnancy, and now with my son. It's been there through all five employers. I can't think of anything else in my house that I've had as long and as constant.

What is it? My alarm clock.

And yet, this morning I again fumbled to find the right switch to turn off the music and I turned on the buzzer instead. Even if we assume I only use the alarm feature on average of 150 days a year (which would be a low estimate), I've used this alarm clock approximately 1,800 times.

Would a new alarm clock be traumatic for me because after 1,800 tries, I still don't have it, or would it be pretty much the same because after 1,800 times, I still have no idea what's going on with the thing when it wakes me up?

Let's not chance it, don't buy me an alarm clock.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005


All through my life I've been wondering when I would feel like an adult. In high school, when I started earning money and really managing my own time, I thought I was feeling like an adult. In college, when I began managing bills and no one was responsible for my actions but me, I thought I might be starting to feel like an adult.

Through my first apartment, my first real job, buying my own home, getting married, having a child. I still, surprisingly, felt just like me, just like 16 years old, just with a very long 16 years.

Today, I began to realize that the 29 years that I have under my belt are showing. And that perhaps, I've actually learned some things over these past 29 years and I can apply them.

I had a meeting that consisted of me, my boss (D), and my boss' boss (K). K essentially reamed me out for failing to deliver on a project that I was not in charge of, that no one was actually in charge of since they fired the guy in June. K was, in my estimation, rude beyond belief.

And I didn't flinch. In fact, I stood right up to this tirade. I could feel my face burning red, and my hands went dead cold, which I'm guessing was some sort of basal reaction of Send the blood to the brain!

Now, this is fairly impressive because (1) I was raised in the least confrontational manner possible. My mother and I didn't butt heads too much, and when we did, we both ended in tears. And thus (2), when I have been in similar situations before, my emotions wedge up into my eyes, and without control, my eyes leak. It's not quite crying, but it looks like crying. Thank God that didn't happen.

I don't know if my reaction was the best possible, but it feels a lot better than being rode roughshod.

Not A Convincing Argument

Seen on the back of a Dodge pickup, a custom job (not a bumper sticker)...

Your kids may be on the honor roll, but your a moron.

In other news, 2.12 miles, 232 calories at the gym. 1/7th of a pound down.


My new mommy friend, who is about to be a new mommy again, is making and selling jewelry - see her site linked to the right! It looks really pretty and reasonably priced! And Paula is a great person so you should buy from her!

Vent and Flush

Yesterday escalated in badness... quick summation to vent a purge it from my system:

Luke's rash, traffic and train made me late to the dentist, dentist bedside manner poor (warn me when the shot is coming!), drill hit gum tissue (OW!), Luke cranky at daycare, same ol' carseat issues, dog had accident in her crate, had to grab and go for dinner, more carseat issues, picking up the steam cleaner, Luke very very tired and cranky, carseat issues, and home.

Ugh, I shudder just thinking about it.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Technispeak (and Woohoo! Post 100)

We need a piece of equipment calibrated at my work, so I have begun calling around to local calibration offices to have this done. As a representative of my company I had a conversation where I described an entire setup and then stated "Well, we don't need THAT calibrated, we need the thing attached to it calibrated."

Then I made the guy look it up on the Internet so I would stop having to explain what the heck it is.

And he started muttering globbedygook about it's communication ports and this and that, and I said, essentially, there's the website with the information, get back to me on whether you can calibrate it, and how much that would be.

I's a professional.

The Job of a Mommy

Luke's daycare just called me to let me know that he had broken out in a rash all over his head and neck after he finished his morning bottle.

Lack of focus at work? Try adding in worry for your child. It was all I could do not to leap from my desk and run there to hold my child. Because it's hard to leave him on a normal, healthy day, but this? This sucks.

Will they stare at him and make sure he's breathing through his morning nap? Will they be able to hold him for as long as I could because he's uncomfortable and upset and wants reassurance? And overriding it all Is he okay?

I'm not headed out just yet, the doctor's office doesn't think it's much of anything. But it's not off my mind in the least.

New Electronics

We all settle into stereotypes sometimes, and the place where I've done this the most is with the electronics in and around my television. I routinely throw the remote controls at my husband because I don't want to deal with them, and when I try to? He quickly gets exasperated that I don't know which remote does what.

Can you see how this rapidly spirals out of control? I don't know how to use them, so he does it, so I don't learn how to use them... like a dog chasing it's tail.

The new digital cable isn't helping with the wacky things it keeps doing. While I'm watching it. A few weeks ago, it went mute. I pressed all the mute and sound buttons I could find and went to various menus to find out what the heck it was doing. It wasn't until I turned the cable off and on again (which I didn't want to do at the time as we were DVRing something and I didn't know how that would affect things) that the sound came back.

Last night I had no picture. I have no idea why I had no picture. I again played with remotes and menus and still I had no picture. This morning I had a picture - I can only presume the cable gods relented and gave us the picture back.

This electrical incompetence probably started when I was dating successive computer geeks Motherboard, gig, ram, pixel!, they would say. And I stuck my fingers in my ears and sang LALALALALALALA at the top of my lungs because I hate the hardware of computers. Which is odd because I sort of vaguely like the programming aspect. So I let them take over building and fixing my computers, and planted myself in ignorance on that topic.

And then there is the stereo thing. My brother could rattle off about stereos and I could not possibly care less, because a tone deaf person with some hearing loss? Doesn't give a crap about sound quality. No static? That's the one for me!

These things will keep happening to me until I understand the systems in my house, though. Taking 7 minutes to figure out how to play a DVD in the playstation, the time the brand new computer wouldn't turn on and I didn't know why, the cable issues. And every time stuff like that happens, it ticks me off, which makes me think I should take the time to figure these things out completely.

But at that moment, it's so much easier to yell ESPOSO!!!

Monday, October 24, 2005


I did actually make it to the gym and walked two miles at 15 min/mile. I did a little bit of jogging in there, too. 230 calories. 1/18th of a pound. Well, that's enough to make me eat a pint of ice cream.

Crap. And Ola.

I am required by the current function of my job to think in an analytical manner. I am an engineer by degree. I love math puzzles, heck, I was president of my high school Math Team (shut it). Numbers have always been a fun and interesting diversion for my head. Analytical thought? Should not be a problem.

It is a problem.

I can not figure out what the heck I am supposed to do with these numbers I have. Ooh! Pretty data!

I'm going to blame the kid. It's about time he shouldered some responsibility in this world.

Time On My Hands

Getting out the door in the morning with my son and my husband is a challenge. I have to wake Esposo before I leave to hand off Luke. Esposo, he doesn't do so well with the waking up. Ever. So I have to wake him up about 15 minutes before I have to leave, and this is just another task in the morning that minimally includes:

Feeding the baby, changing the baby, feeding the dog, letting the dog out, showering, eating breakfast, filling the food and water bowls for the cats, and packing my lunch.

That's at a minimum. Do you notice anywhere on that list 'brushing hair'? No? Oh, that's because I haven't been lately. Seriously, not only have I been letting my hair air dry, which is typical, I haven't even been getting around to brushing through it four or five times. I usually put my makeup on in the car as I head to work (I only wear a base, so I'm not the one with the mascara out).

This morning, Luke woke at 5 AM, ate eight ounces, and went back to bed at 5:45.

I don't leave until 6:30. I had FORTY FIVE MINUTES to take care of the dog and get ready. I didn't even have to wake Esposo, because Luke was asleep, I just turned the monitor on.

I emptied the dishwasher. Washed out the cat and dog water bowls (not done often enough). Took out the trash. Emptied some old food containers from the fridge that were looking threatening.

And most importantly, I blow dried my hair with the fancy schmancy ionic hair dryer my mom bought me last year, and got a few swipes in with the curling iron. My coworker asked me if I got a haircut. I said No! I just actually DID my hair!.

I feel pret-ty, oh so pret-ty!


Is there a difference between wasps, yellow jackets, and hornets?

Is it really a Chicago thing to end sentences with prepositions?

How do you stop the wasps/yellow jackets/hornets from building nests in your windows?

Will Luke ever get top teeth?


My mom starts her new job today.

I think my cousin is due with her first child today.

I went to the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre for the first time.

We ate at a Thai food place by us (that we hadn't eaten at before).

I put up our storm windows. And found another yellow jacket nest.

I finally found my tweezers.

I collected data for 64 hours this weekend. I needed to collect data for 1.5 hours.

No Excuses

I found out this weekend that my gym, which has been receiving my membership dues for the past year while I only visited approximately 3 times (Very. Expensive. Workouts.) offers childcare for children six months and over.

My initial response is Great! I can work out again!, because I went clothes shopping for 4.8 seconds this weekend and the full length mirror and the lighting in the fitting room? Let's just say it was not a good experience and not speak of it again.

This also means they've cut out one of my excuses. Ergh.

But don't worry, they provided me with an out because I have to call and make an appointment with the childcare place. HA HA HA HA laugh all the mommies in the world. Because appointments with an infant are great and hysterical fun. We all wish we could have more appointments, and places to be at certain times with our babies.

I'm going to try and go this evening, though. Wish me luck!

Friday, October 21, 2005


Luke went in for his eight month check up today. My mom brought him, as she watches him on Fridays (sadly, though, this was her last Grandma Friday).

He weighs nineteen pounds, seven ounces, and is 28 3/8" tall. Which is 60th percentile for weight and 50th percentile for height.

So you see, he's average. We are constantly getting the 'He's so big for his age' comments. But really? No one knows what the heck 8 month olds are supposed to look like. It's hard to judge average for a baby.

Look at Luke. He = average size.


Today I've heard people say "Depahtment" and "Warter".

Accents are funny!

Picture Posting!

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Hollywood Walk of Fame

Banderas is the 2,294th person to receive a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

I think we need to make the requirements more stringent. I don't hate Antonio Banderas or anything, he's all right. It's not like he received the attention as a sex symbol Leonardo DiCaprio did, and I never got that. I mean, Leonardo was scrawny and kind of annoying. Good actor, scrawny and annoying,though. He's permanently etched in my head as Luke in Growing Pains.

Crap, did I name my kid after a Leonardo character? That kid's name was Luke, right?

Anyway, I'm just saying that I don't see Banderas being the kind of actor who's going to prevail, and people are going to watch his movies 10, 20 years from now and think 'Wow. What talent!!'

I'm guessing I'd probably cut a lot of those 2,294 people.

Chicago Touring

About five or six years ago, when I truly began to appreciate cities and how their histories form them, I became very smitten with Chicago. Fortunately, this wasn't a passing affair, but has developed into a true love.

I'm not a hip, trendy kind of girl, or a foodie, so while Chicago certainly has 'hot-spots' and high end restaurants, they don't interest me. What really interests me about Chicago is the average joes. The politicians. The ethnic stew. The oddities.

To that end, in my smitten phase, I decided to try and identify some different Chicago landmarks in my knowledge base so I could give a unique tour to visiting guests.

I got exactly one landmark in my tour before I moved on to other things.

"Kwanusila, the Thunderbird, is an authentic Kwagulth Indian totem pole, carved in Red Cedar by Tony Hunt of Fort Rupert, British Columbia.

The crests carved upon the totem pole represent Kwanusila, the Thunderbird, a whale with a man on its back, and a sea monster.

Kwanusila is an exact replica of the original Kraft Lincoln Park totem pole, which was donated to the City of Chicago by James L. Kraft on June 20, 1929, and which stood on the spot until October 9, 1985.

Kwanusila is dedicated to the school children of Chicago, and was presented to the City of Chicago by Kraft, Inc. on May 21, 1986."

Chicago MetroBloggin

I'm starting to collect suburban history now, though...


Bein' as I am from Chicago, I have obviously been made somewhat awares of a certain team's current good fortune. This has set off a bit of a debate in dis here good city, about the rivalry between the sout' side and the nort' side.

Prior to moving to Chicago(land) in 1988, I was a Mets fan. This presented a certain incompatibility with the area's Cubs fans. I was 11, though, and while a fan, I was not A Fan, so my issues were small. In college, I dated three guys 'seriously'. One of those was a basketball nut, the other two weren't really into sports. So baseball and I, we weren't close. I was a 'Mets fan' because that was where my allegience lie in 1988, and nothing had served to change that. I also liked the White Sox a little, for no clear reason.

Esposo, he's a Cubs fan through and through. We've gone to numerous Cubs games. Since Esposo was far more driven about his team than I ever was about mine, I wasn't going to disturb that father-son baseball bonding, and Luke has several Cubs outfits.

I apologize to those who may be shocked by this news, but I am now a Cubs fan. When you're not a diehard fan and your spouse is? It happens. I still like the Mets, though. Still very incompatible. And I wasn't anti White Sox, because hey, it's all Chicago, and I'm a HUGE Chicago fan. Love love love this city and environs.

The Cubs had a great year in aught-three (2003), as you may recall. This was the time when I stopped liking the Sox. Because they were jerks about the whole dang thing. I'm not cool with that. It's like the Illini-Big Ten thing I have, I was going with a Cubs-Chicago thing.

Now that those skeevy sout' siders are in the series, there are Sox fans (and managers) saying that Cubs fans are sour grapes and should root for the Sox and other assorted BS. Ya know what folks? You set the tone in '03, you're not getting converts in '05.

Go Astros!

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Sure Sign of Fall


I can't stop thinking about the clogged pores on my eyelids.


To shed, peel, or come off in scales. Used of skin.

Still Red

My eyes are stillred this morning, but the magic drops are making them feel much better.

An unstellar morning, it was. There was dog vomit. I hate dog vomit. It makes me gag and retch more than anything else. Esposo would take dog vomit over baby poop apparently.

I brought Luke into the bathroom with me, with toys, as I showered. I thought, he's kind of raspy, maybe this will help his throat (he's had a stuffy nose and slight cough for awhile, the stuffy nose cleared up a few days ago, the cough is hanging out a bit). He climbed up on the side of the bathtub to see the water. So I sat him down and gave him toys, then hopped in the shower, closing the curtain. Which was HORRIBLE for Luke. He went to the corner of the tub and frantically tried to pull back the curtain to get to me and see the water.

Shower? Not relaxing. I'm not sure if I actually used soap.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Cruel Cruel Mommy

There was a time when letting my son 'cry it out' was very very hard. When I sat in front of his bedroom door listening to his every sound, because it all just seemed to cruel.

Sad to say, I'm over that now. I've tried to make for a relaxing bedtime ritual for Luke, but he'll have none of it. In fact, it seems that the more ritualized I make it, the more he knows what's coming and starts the panicking, the screaming, the walking up my body and over my shoulder. I try to sing and walk and rock him gently in a dimly lit room to start the winding down process, and it doesn't work. The screaming just escalates. I've read about attachment parenting, these people who sleep with their children in their bed until they're 14, who never dream of letting a child cry it out, and all I can think is that if I tried that with Luke, I'd never get sleep.


So, it just so happens that my eye doctor was working in their OTHER office, which happens to be kinda sorta on my way home from work AND he had a light afternoon schedule. So I said, yeah, let's make sure my insanely red eyes are not contagious, because spreading infecious eye diseases is NOT a good way to win friends and influence people.

Before I went in, I touched up my makeup on the eruption of pimples on my chin, who are making up for all the time they missed hanging out on my face. I did a finger comb of my hair, swished some water around in my mouth, I mean, the guy was goin' to be all up in mah grill looking into my inflamed eyes, ya gots to take care of these things.

I received a thorough inspection, asking all the questions 'Have you recently rubbed sand in your eyes?' 'Have you been doing illegal drugs?' and I said no, and was mildly annoyed because, YES, I thought about everything over the past two or three days and if I could have assigned a cause to the Devil Eyes, I wouldn't have gone to the doctor.

He said my eyes are very dry and my oil glands around my eyelashes are clogged. Now I have to wash my oil glands around my EYES. Because the oil those glands secrete helps make your tears not dry up so fast. So much for the touch up, I was greasy and clogged up.

It's a Nice Nice World

Yesterday I brought my camera in to work to upload pictures to the internet. I then promptly forgot about my camera since yesterday was a very hectic day (yay!). I remembered my camera about 10:30 AM and panicked, as I didn't remember seeing it on my desk and thus therefore (three dots) it might have been STOLEN!

I returned to my desk and found it sitting on top of the bucket of plastic bottles I have under my desk, where I had placed it yesterday. The world is not full of thieves!

At lunch the vending machine guy stopped by as I was getting my Baked Doritos. I told 'Hey, this Baked chip thing is great! Not only are there Baked chips, but there are now TWO OPTIONS of Baked chips to get! And 100 Calore Packs of cookies!' I really am thrilled about this.

I went and sat down, and after he had filled the machine, he gave me a free bag of Baked BBQ chips. Aw, people are nice!


My eyes are extremely bloodshot today. It looks like I was up all night drinking, smokings, and shooting heroin. In reality, I was just doing lines of coke. Because I like my drugs to be from the 80's, too.

And, today is my father's birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad. Wish you were here.


Each week for approximately the past month I've told myself that this week, we're going to get to church. They even added a 9:30 service this fall, so we have three Sunday morning options (one of them being 8 AM, so that's not quite the option I'm going for).

We both knew we wanted to raise our children with religion. You can't make a choice without knowing what religion is about, and while I wouldn't say that church and youth groups were a major part of my childhood, they were still an important part. So, after we had moved and then Luke was born, we found a church to attend (Lutheran) and joined up.

It's a very active church. There are bible study groups, and missions and a teen band sang at a service. It's a bit much for me, after a good ten or so year gap in regular church attendance. I'm low key about God, and they're all in yo' face with the Bible and Jesus. Not to mention that I disagree on some fundamental points.

So church has not yet become a solid part of our lives. I think of it as us wading in slowly to a very very cold lake. Right now we're up to our ankles. Which is better than a year ago, when we were vaguely aware that there was a lake somewhere.

Of course, getting my son to church requires that I go to church. And again, it is something I want him to have, so I have to make it a priority. Maybe I could get them to offer 'Church Lite' - half an hour long, sing some songs, talk a little about Jesus, maybe make a craft... oh wait, I guess that's Sunday School.


A flat, round baked roll topped with onion flakes

Now you know. I didn't.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Long Weekends

When I was single, or when my husband and I were dating, long weekends meant we spent both Friday and Saturday night out and about into the wee hours of the morning, and added a Bears game on Sunday to round it out. We would see roughly 800 people, have about 600 drinks and drop cash like it was water.

Let me think, how much did I spend on alcohol this weekend? None. Oh. Um, did I at least have a beer at home? Well, no. Was it a good weekend? Yeah. Was it a long weekend? Double yeah.

I think we watched a movie Friday night, and I know that if by Monday morning, I can't clearly remember Friday night, it was a long weekend (I do remember now, we watched Hitchhiker's Guide to Galaxy, which was a very good adaptation of a very complicated book!).

Luke had a lot of opportunities to see other children this weekend - first his cousins on Saturday evening, and then at a play group Sunday afternoon. He absolutely loves unstructured play time with other children, and interacts very well with other people. He's a very open and curious little boy.

He got pushed a little bit by his slightly older cousin, which seemed to shock him - his cousin has an older brother, and well, babies with older siblings are a bit more rough and tumble! Parents don't tend to accidentally knock their children over (except for last night, sorry, Luke!) and three year olds do! I think it's really good for Luke to play with as many children as possible - he's in daycare two days a week, but alone at home for the rest. And have I mentioned, he loves other kids?

Loves them.

I feel like I'm starting to really meet a few other moms, people I could be friends with. I joined a mommy group through and I've been going to events for awhile. I'm slow at getting to know people, so it's hard for me, but so far everyone I've met has been great. And it really helps mentally to talk to people who are doing the same things as you!

Friday, October 14, 2005

It's a Cookbook!! It's a Cookbook!!

I can explain how disturbed I am by the idea that people might think I actually liked John Stamos (which, uh, sorry John, but yeah, Uncle Jesse didn't do it for me. Supid 'Have Mercy' catch phrase? Mullet? No.)

There is a quiz associated with the 80's heartthrob thing. I took the quiz and it matched me up with John Stamos. Which is sad, because ew.

So, to clarify, I DO NOT LIKE JOHN STAMOS.

I feel like someone's going to pop out with "The lady doth protest too much" soon. But seriously, NO STAMOS.

Irrational Fear Realized

I'm always a little bit creeped out about the idea of there being something IN my shoes when I put them on. It's not something that makes me dump out my shoes and inspect them before putting them on, but I'd say at least half the time I'm putting on my shoes, I'm thinking What if there's something in there?

I was just tying my shoes, because they consistently come untied (and yes, I wear laced shoes to work, they're safety, non-slip shoes) and people like to warn me that my shoes are untied. In 29 years, I've never tripped on a shoelace. I've walked into walls, lights, tripped over my own feet, but never a shoelace.

So, tying my shoe. I pull the laces tight and the pulling pulled something out from between the tongue and the shoe. Something flattened and with eight legs.

AGH! It was IN MY SHOE. Did it die there? Was it dead when I PUT ON my shoe? Oh, I have the creepy crawlies...


I actually got enough sleep last night to not feel like a drug addict. WHEEE!

Of course, Esposo (husband, in Spanish) got home at 3:30 from his poker night (on average he's up) and decided to sleep on the couch. Thinking of me, the sweet boy, he took Luke's monitor out of the bedroom and brought it downstairs with him so if Luke woke up at 4/4:30 like he has been this week, I wouldn't have to get up.

Unintended consequence was me thinking that perhaps a stealth child abductor had come into the house in the middle of the night and taken the monitor so that I wouldn't hear them STEALING MY CHILD. Because why else would the monitor be gone!?!?

Motherhood is not rational.

Y'all know I don't *really* love John Stamos, right??

Thursday, October 13, 2005

I Love the 80's

Your 80s Heartthrob Is

John Stamos

Apparently I love John Stamos. Ooo-kay.

Sell It!

I work at a place that has a sales force spread throughout the country. I am not part of that sales force, but I work at the place where they make the stuff that the sales force sells.

Since there are only a few manufacturing plants throughout the country, the sales force will descend upon our building for meetings and to see how our products are made.

We have engineers and science dorks working here, essentially. We grunt at each other. Sometimes there is panic and arm waving. We are in the drudge of day to day employment.

They are sales. They are all smiles and friendly and chatty and excited to be somewhere that's not home, meeting new people and getting geared up to sell!

Can you see how these two things clash? On a typical day, the cafeteria holds about 50 people at any given time, and since we're in work mode, we're sedate. When the sales force is having a meeting, the cafeteria will be taken over and the volume escalates to easily quadruple the norm. My coworkers and I slink out in fear of the exuberance.

I was just accosted in the restroom, as a sales person exhorted me to Join the Sales Force!. Um, I'm at work, see? I respect what you do, but it's not what I do, mmm k?

I feel hunted!


One of the best things about Luke getting older is the giggling. When he was 3,4,5,6 months old, he was a happy baby, but he wasn't a giggly baby. The older he gets, though, the funnier things seem to be.

Yesterday he found out that when Daddy makes a noise and Luke puts his hand in front of his mouth, the noise changes. (Like the 'Indian' (uh, native american?) style war whooping). This was hysterical!! (And apparently, very upsetting for the dog) Then he learned that HE could do that ALL BY HIMSELF. He learned this all in one day, so I came home to a new trick!

As I was playing with him, building the towers he so loves, I snatched his blocks quickly off his play table as he reached for them. For some reason, me stealing those blocks was a great and wonderful trick, because he laughed at it for about 15 minutes. I grabbed the block from my right hand with my left hand - hysterical. I went to hand him a block and yanked it away before he got it - fabulous!

Well, until he got tired of it and cried, and then I gave him the blocks.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005


I have a hearing problem. It's not a huge hearing problem, basically, it takes the definition off the world. At least, that's what I think it does since I've never heard normally. It's a little nerve deafness that makes it hard for me to understand all the words that people say, or in the case of my point here, sing.

We didn't start the fi-ire
It was always burning since the world's been turning...
Lawrence of Arabia, British Beatlemania, Building...Berlin, ?guy-a-po?, and Beijing...
..hypodermics on the shore, I can't take it anymore!
..though we didn't light it but we're trying to fight it...
...children of thalidomide...

I could look up the lyrics, but how is that fun? Please, add what pops into your head. Don't cheat and look 'em up!


I expect very little from my waitstaff. Ask my what I want, promptly, bring it to me, promptly, and don't make me hunt you down for the check. General pleasantness is expected, but if you're having a lousy day and still fulfill the ordering/serving portion, I won't be bothered.

Because eating out isn't about the waitstaff. If it is, I'm at Ed Debevic's, and that place is really kind of annoying. I don't like being surly with people I don't know. I'm surly with my family, that's fun enough for me!

M came to take me out to lunch with Luke as I'll be working late and today has not been a great day. It gave me a chance to see him, since we don't see each other on M.Tu.Th, and have 900 other things to do at home. And I got to hang out with my baby boy more! Luke was happy and we were just catching up on our lives as married people who don't see each other often enough are wont to do. A little slowly, neither of us was perky.

Our waitress, Kat, was an out and out lunatic. She began by admiring Luke's blue eyes. Great, lots of people do that! And then she called dibs. On my eight month old son. She said she'd be 72 when he was 21, and would he wait. OHMIGOD EW. EW. Hitting on an eight month old is GROSS even if you think you're being cute.

Follow that with pushing the alcohol. Margarita, sangria, whatever the drinks of the house were. But you know, if we don't want a drink, she'll take one. I ordered water. She asked 'On the rocks or with a twist?' and I said 'On the rocks' with a half smile that clearly said I am not amused get on with it. Then she prompted me to order it with a twist. She prompted me. Fine, I say 'with a twist.' So she does the twist. IT DOESN'T WORK IF YOU PROMPT.

Then she tried to teach Luke to meow because, you know, her name is Kat, and if he meowed, she'd come to visit him. Like hell you will, woman.

She popped up (fightentingly so) again later, asking if I wanted wine. Because if I didn't, she would drink some. She could see in M's eyes that he wanted to know why she was all about the alcohol. WHY DIDN'T YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES, M!?!?! Why? Because she's going to the hospital tomorrow. And you never know what's going to happen. She fished for us to ask what she was going in for, which neither of us cared to do because we wanted to talk TO EACH OTHER and we don't KNOW you.

'I like to say I'm going in for plastic surgery, but they'd have to get me a whole new form!' SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP. We still didn't ask. but really, she's just going there for lunch tomorrow. WE ARE NOT YOUR AUDIENCE. She left, for awhile.

M got a bottle out for Luke, and she popped up again. Oh dear Lord. 'I saw a bottle!' Oh shut up. M fed Luke the bottle in his high chair, and she TOOK IT FROM M, thus feeding Luke, saying 'This is why you hire a server!' Uh, no. I pulled Luke out of his highchair to feed him because I didn't want her to be doing this and I wanted her to GO AWAY.

She hovered around our table, insisting on giving LUKE the bill to attempt to be cute, if he just makes an X she'll collect in 21 years. AGAIN, EW! BABY!


Happy Eight Months!

Luke is eight months old today!

Dear Luke,

This has been a big month for you - you've learned to pull yourself up to a standing position! On EVERYTHING! And mostly, on Mommy and Daddy and Mocha. You're starting to climb up us like the soft, moving jungle gyms that we are, reaching and grabbing for our hands, our clothes, and our faces. We're not too happy about using our faces to pull up, though. Stop it.

To that end, you understand 'No!' and you don't like it. When we tell you no, or remove you from something you shouldn't be doing (like playing with the dog's food, as she looks pitifully on thinking You let him take my toys and noe he's going to eat my food too!?!?), you hunker down, stick your bottom lip out, and let out an angry cry. And you look right at us to ensure it has the effect you want.

You've done other notable things this month, like figuring out 'So BIG!'. We ask you 'How big is Lucas?' and you throw your arms up in the air and push your head back so you have a double chin and your head is one big, round, blob. I've tried to take some pictures of this, but they've come out really strange looking, so I haven't posted them anywhere. Yet.

You can also slide down the slide (a small one) ALL BY YOURSELF. Well, I have to put you in the precise position at the top, and then you start bouncing yourself to try and get going, until you finally dislodge from position and slip down the 2 feet to my waiting arms. You love it. You also love the swing, which Daddy found out when he took you out of it because you had to head to the store. You. Weren't. Done. Swinging.

And oh, how you hate the car seat. Specifically, being put into the car seat. Mommy has taken to singing stupid songs with strange accents to make you stop the screaming and the back arching so we can get somewhere. Sometimes the songs will make you be quiet for a few minutes so I can get you in there. Other things you hate: bedtime and naptimes, having your diaper or clothes changed. If you'd just let me change you without the flipping over it would be done SO FAST, darling. So STOP IT.

You are a fabulous play-er, though. You are perfectly content to be sitting with Mommy or Daddy or Grandma, playing with your toys. Towers still attract you from across the room, which is hysterical to see, your little legs kicking and arms dragging you in full speed. I don't think you really want to knock them down, since you never seem happy when they fall, but you have to check it out, every time.

'Motorboat' is your favorite noise, and if someone starts a motorboat, you join right in. You're reaching and grabbing, opening and closing, putting toys in the box and taking them out of the box, over and over again. You're fascinated by doors and how they swing - rooms doors, baby gate, cabinet doors. Open. Close. You get very upset when you've been trying to do something and it just won't work, and you can't get the doggie out of it's dog house, or the block (which is not part of that toy, so it doesn't fit anyway) through the hole. And you're not too amenable to being 'helped', you clutch at me and cry in despair MOOOOOM, it doesn't WORK!.

You're a cool kid, Luke. I kinda like you.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Mommy Needs a New Pair of Shoes

Okay, so we have been living on a budget while M attends grad school. The big problem with our budget? Um, we have a house. A four bedroom house. With a full basement. Suitable for multiple children and family celebrations and a lifetime of love and happiness.

We're on the lean end of that lifetime. I *know* that we got a good deal on our house, and that we are going to be able to do everything we want to this house over the years. It's going to metamorphosize (how do you spell that?) into our dream house year by year.

The dream this year? Involved a bow window, a furnace, and ripping out our bathroom. (Not installing. Just ripping.) A furnace is a very unsatisfactory home purchase. It's all energy efficient! Whoo! But seriously, do you show off your new furnace? I have. It's not satisfying. It doesn't make people go 'Ooh!' and you don't get a comforting feeling of home when you look at it.

The bow window I do love. Unfortunately, it made me want to change everything else in the room. Including the room's function, the walls, the ceiling, and the fireplace. Which would involved chiseling out bricks. Um, yeah. Brick chiseling. Sounds fun!

It's so frustRAAAAting to not be able to do it all... now.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Apple Trees

I studied up on my apple tree care so that I can get some apples next year. I like trees, and I could see our trees becoming a hobby for me. We've done a decent amount of maintenance on the trees, working hard at getting them into respectable shape. I spray our crabapple tree this year and it wasn't affected by blight. i think that's what it had.

My timeline to applesauce is:
  • February - Prune 5-10 feet off the top of the tree. Anyone want to do this? In FEBRUARY? Ugh. But it is way overgrown up there.
  • April - Spray with dormant oil to prevent/kill codling moths, which is what we had this year.
  • April - 10-10-10 fertilizer, 1.5 pounds.

    Then I'm supposed to spray about once a week through the summer. I don't know if I'll get that far, I don't expect great apples next year, just to get the tree on the road to healthy.

    And it's a good thing we didn't cut down the crab apple tree or other small apple tree we have, because they cross pollinate.

    Now you know a little more about caring for apple trees! Aren't you happy?

  • Travel

    Whee! Posting like mad on a mental deficient day at work...

    I love to travel. I'm a dork, I just like to see different places and wander the streets. When I travel, I hit museums, I take public transportation, I ask really stupid questions. It takes me completely out of any stereotype I may need to fit into at home, and turns me into a tourist. I try new things when I travel. And I particularly like to travel to places where I don't speak the language. Because speaking the language makes it all too easy.

    As we now have a child, and one job that doesn't quite cover all our expenses (one job is not meant to pay for daycare, too), we haven't been anywhere since May of 2004. Which is really slowing things down for me, since I went on 3-4 trips a year minimum, and one of those was overseas.

    Admittedly today, I don't feel like travelling. Today I feel like crap, so the idea of putting clothes in a bag and heading to an airport sounds as fun as bamboo shoots under my fingernails. But most days I'd be all excited about the idea.

    Travel for me is not a beach and sun. That's actually a slight version of torture for me - unproductive, repetitive, and uneventful. That's my day to day life anyway! Plus, I'm fair - so my skin burns, pudgy - so who wants to be exposed?, and excessive heat makes me sleepy. And I can sleep at home.

    We had toyed around with the idea of a trip to Seattle, but there weren't enough vacation days left for me - maternity leave cuts into your time off. I don't know when I'll be travelling again. There was talk of Vegas, but that's been cut off. Then there's the potential of "an island" for a wedding... but beyond that, we haven't talked about anything.

    The Car That Sucks My Soul

    When we became pregnant last year, there were a lot of changes to be made. One, we needed a larger space since we barely fit into our two bedroom, one bath townhouse with us, the two cats and the dog as it was.

    Then, there was the car situation. M and I both loved our cars. I drove a Miata. Convertible. Red. Tiny. And no back seat. None. Did I mention tiny? I loved that car. I could crank my music and take corners on two wheels. Yes, it was a four cylinder, but it still handled. And environmentally friendly!

    I hate SUVs. Hate them. Ugly, huge, nasty things. Not comfortable. So that was definitely out on the agenda. We looked, and looked, and found the Subaru Outback. Outback, right? Rugged, adventurous.

    Um, it's a station wagon. I went from a Sport Car, to a Sation Wagon. The other day I was listening to good music and went to take a corner and I was clunkily reminded that you're in a staion wagon, numbskull! The Miata, she had personality. She had zing! She had a name.

    The Outback, well, I tried to give it a name, but it didn't stick, because it's just a car. It holds the stroller, and the playpen, and the baby, and the dog, and our bags, and it has heated seats. But it's just a car.

    *sigh* I still miss Miss M.


    I love gossip. Okay, maybe I don't actually love gossip as in 'the spreading of rumors and half truths about people', but I love gossip as in 'knowing what people that you knew at one point in your life are up to'. Because while people in an instant of time are interesting, knowing life stories, even just touching in on them here and there, it's a novel.

    In the movie 'Defending You Life' (God knows why that movie has stuck with me) the characters sit down and watch their lives. If I could sit down and watch people's lives, I would. I would be addicted to it. In some ways I enjoy being a voyeur to other people's lives more than I want to do the things they are doing.

    If I have ever known you, I am inherently interested in what you are doing. And not in a 'I hope your toenails fall off due to a strange fungal disease' kind of way, for anyone. Admittedly, there are one or two people that I feel I should be doing 'better than' at all times, defined how I want to define it. Which is pretty close to where I am now, because I'm happy where I am now.

    Except for the home remodel thing, because I thought I'd be able to be patient as we spent thirty years, or 5 or 10 years slowly remodeling our older home to exactly what we want. Guess what? Not patient. Hate sliding glass door. Hate lanscaping and evil spreading plant that will not die. Hate bushes that look like mushrooms (I chainsawed one out this weekend... HA!)... see, not patient.

    What was my point? Oh yeah, happy where I am! But, I want to know what everyone else is doing. Because it's interesting. And for most people, I don't need day to day accounts, but engaged, married, out of work, president of the company, babies, houses, you know, your basic reunion conversations. I loves em.

    Feeling Like a Jerk

    I wanted to go see a friend run in the marathon on Sunday, and I woke up with all intents to bring Luke down to the marathon. I began tracking her online, and clothed myself and the child (this is really tremendous effort), but needless to say, I didn't make it. That's the stuff that makes me feel like I don't have everything in control the way I want it, when I don't do things I said I would, and that I wanted to.

    Some beer and the aftermath

    I went out Friday night, and a good time was had. I didn't party my brains out, but I did drink entirely too much Hefe Weissen, one of the few beers that I really and truly love, although just thinking about it this Monday morning (I went out FRIDAY) is making my stomach do some flips. A good way to know when you're done drinking? When you start borrowing money from people to buy drinks.

    Another way to know when your friend is done drinking and should be taken home? When she is grabbing other patrons on the ass (male and female) and chucking coasters throughout the bar. Fortunately, that was NOT me.

    So Saturday, when I was to be missing my son, I was in extreme hangover pain. Extreme. Pain. It made it a little easier to be away from him since I hurt so much. I was saying things to the dog like "I know you need water, but I just can't do that right now." And infant in that state? Ugh.

    So Beer, and other alcoholic products, I'll see you again in about three months. Maybe around New Year's Eve. Mommyhood and alcohol do not mix.

    Friday, October 07, 2005

    Mommy Night

    My husband is taking my son up north tonight through tomorrow night. So I won't see my baby for 24 straight hours.

    I have really mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, we're goin' out! Have a beer! Don't hafta wake up in the morning!

    On the other hand, which is growing larger the closer I get to not seeing my son for 24 straight consecutive hours, during which time he will be involved in the dangers of riding in a car without me, sleeping without me, and eating without me, there is the 'Good God it's like they're removing my lungs'. Big Giant Hand of no baby for 24 hours.

    It's good for me, I know it is.


    Sittin' at my 'puter on a Friday afternoon, sittin' sittin' sittin. 'puter 'puter 'puter. Data from the latest testing sucking really hard. What the #$%@*!?

    And then from behind my monitor (dun dun DUN)

    came a spider.

    He crawled along my cube wall and I looked around for something to do something with him with. I generally don't like killing things, even bugs, especially when they're not bothering me, they're just going about their day. And spiders, in all theory, are good. They eat other bugs.

    Now he was on top of my cube wall, and I have some containers at my desk. I could trap him, so he would die a slow miserable death in a bottle.

    Not nice, either.

    He's crawling over my name tag, and down the other side of the wall.

    But I'm still itchy and jumpy, like he's going to crawl up my sleeve or pant leg. Agh!

    Cute things Luke does

  • Claps with his right hand in a fist and his left hand open.
  • Fake coughs.
  • Takes the dog's bone. While she's chewing it.
  • Giggles: when I move my face close into his face (yeah yeah, I'm funny looking.), after you say "I'm gonna get you" but before you've touched him, and at fake sneezes.
  • Looks at me when we're up close and then opens his mouth and heads towards my face to go in for a taste.
  • Twirls his hands and feet in anticipation of food.
  • Snatches those Gerber puffed fruits and vegetable treats in a flash off the table.
  • Sleeps face down on his knees with his butt in the air.
  • Makes a break for the gate separating the kitchen and family room if we leave it open. And then heads straight for the dog bowls on the floor, because what fun!
  • Smiles. Cries. Grabs. Creeps. Breathes.

  • Grandmas

    I consider our entire family very fortunate in that my mom has been able to watch Luke on Fridays since I went back to work. That means every Friday, Luke spends an entire day with someone who loves him just as much as Mommy and Daddy. And he recognizes her, knows her, and gives her a huge smile when he sees her.

    I have read a number of articles, blogs, and books wherein the mother is amazed at how mellow her mother becomes with a grandchild. I mean, after all, when she was a child, her mother was a raging lunatic, screaming and grounding left and right.

    Which is nothing like I remember my mother as a child, so I am not surprised in the least seeing her with my son. Admittedly, he's only 8 months old, so he's not doing anything like swinging mice by their ears and snapping their little necks. And no one I know EVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THAT.

    I was very close with my grandmother, and it's a relationship that I treasure. I'm thrilled that Luke has the chance to develop relationships with his grandmothers from early on. I can't see us ever not fostering those relationships.

    I'm sad that Luke doesn't have grandfathers to emulate, no Pa or Papa, but he does have three uncles. I hope that there are enough men in his life (besides my husband) that he doesn't feel the Grandpa loss too keenly, though I know my husband and I do.

    Sleeping Luke

    Thursday, October 06, 2005


    Last night I had a dream in a Discovery special kind of way about 'extraordinary people'. You know, those heart wrenching kind of stories where people overcome obstacles and are uplifted and then they die?

    So in this dream the person who was all heroic was a quadriplegic, no doubt a nod to the movie I saw that evening that involved a quadriplegic. And if you know what movie I saw, I'm sorry I ruined it for you.

    The quadriplegic in my Discovery dream? Was a skydiver.

    Think about it.

    And where I woke up, was where the quadriplegic had landed, obviously unable to move, and the parachute was being blown in the wind and dragging them along.

    New Mommies

    My cousin (who doesn't understand European geography too well, of the post yesterday) is about to give birth. Impending baby and all that.

    Which got me to thinking about post Luke, in February, when I was home in the middle of winter with a new baby. People made food, aw, how nice! I did appreciate that. Really, I did. But I'm not someone who's overly concerned by food. Mac N Cheese four days in a row wouldn't phase me one bit. Crackers for dinner, with cheese for dessert? (Because I'm too lazy to put the cheese ON the crackers and eat them together) No problem.

    For my husband, who grew up with an Italian mother - well, those Italians knows about foods. They've got that whole stereotype of the Italian Mama pushing the food for a reason. She cooks. She cooked for a family of six NIGHTLY. When she was taking classes at night to get her degree? She cooked casseroles ahead of time so they would have good wholesome food to eat. She's nice enough not to say anything about my lack of cookingness, but I don't think she gets it. I cook once a week, and I'm happy. Three times a week? Booyah, baby, I ROCK.

    The point being, people cooking me food was a bonus, because it wasn't something I had before I gave birth. Whee! Food!

    But what I really wanted? Seriously? Clean the house. Vacuum. Wash the dishes. Febreze the couch and my smelly self. Take the dog for a walk. Clean off the kitchen counter.


    The heat finally kicked on in our building, and I can feel my hands! Of course, I was feeling tired before, and now that I'm warm and cozy, I could probably curl up under my desk for a nap. mmmm, nap.

    Again With the Work Post

    I hate asking people to do things. If I can do it myself, I will. I hate trying to find someone so they can find someone to talk about doing something and what about this and I have an idea, and wait, was anything actually decided? Give me carte blanche access and I'm right in the thick of things and I'll figure it out.

    This is something that works very well for me in my job role, usually. I stop bothering people and only ask questions when I actually HAVE questions. I get to know the mechanics and the operators more than the engineers.

    And here's a secret: I usually like the mechanics better. I'm not a political person and I think other 'management' personnel are (at least more so than I am). The mechanics will shoot the shit, and you know what? They know their shit. The engineers, they will gloss over anything they don't know. And then they'll spout random facts or unrelated crap and grunt and scratch themselves. Okay, fine, they don't grunt and scratch themselves. Much.

    Right now, I have to ask people to do things. I have to ask ENGINEERS to do things.

    Let's review:
    1. I prefer to do things myself.
    2. Engineers can get on my nerves by their very engineer-ness.

    Oh, and did I mention I have no power to actually get the engineers to do what I ask of them?

    This is a bad day in the making!

    Don't Even THINK About Them

    The other day I said to myself, Self, as all Self respecting people do, acknowledging themselves, as it's simply rude to go around calling yourself 'Hey you', Self, you've have really clear skin for a very long time! Why, Self, I can't really remember the last pimple, perhaps you've only had one or two since you got pregnant in April of 2004!

    To explain the significance of that, I must let you know that my face exploded after sophomore year of high school. My face, always fair and sensitive, bears lots of little red scars from the multitude of pimples that tormented me. Once, while working as a cashier at my high school job, a small child pointed to my face and asked his mother what was wrong with it. An ego booster if ever there was!! Is it any wonder I didn't have the self esteem to flirt with boys in high school? Really? They calmed down in college, but I never truly had 'clear' skin.

    AnyWHO (this phrase usage can be directly attributed to my husband, along with "wicked", as in, "It's wicked cold in my office". Thanks, hon. Because of you, I am just a bit more dorky.), and again, AnyWHO, I conversed with my Self on the wonder of the no pimples and clear skin.

    Which angered the pimple demons, as if I had injected oil directly into my pores. So now, I have two pimples, of two varieties. One is of the 'not too noticeable with the naked eye but hurts like a stake in your head if you accidentally hit it' variety, the other is of the 'Look, Pus!' variety. Which of course, popped up after I took my shower and before I got to work. I am fortunate that I went to the restroom early this morning at work, lest I be walking around all day talking to people with 'LOOK AT MY WHITEHEAD!'


    Wednesday, October 05, 2005

    Just Wait, It Goes So Fast

    Probably the number one thing that annoyed me during my pregnancy was just wait. I'd say I was feeling okay, and someone would tell me to Just wait until you can't see your feet! or that I had heartburn and they'd tell me Just wait until you can't even eat anything your stomach is so squashed! These comments annoyed me because they ignored what I was experiencing (I'm okay with tips, really, how about 'I ate saltines'?) and also assumed that what I would experience in pregnancy would be the same as someone else. And pregnancy? Is an individual experience.

    I don't know what Just wait is supposed to do for me. It's a 'You think you've got it bad' competitive feel, the need to tell someone it's going to get worse, and to the next point, It Goes So Fast.

    I hear that every two seconds it seems, about children. Enjoy it now, because it goes so fast. In a blink, they'll be 18. Well, that makes a lot of sense, because half a blink ago I was 18.

    And then we cycle back around to Just Wait. Just Wait until they're toddlers throwing a temper tantrum. Just wait until your teenager wants nothing to do with you.

    Pardon me, I'm still working on enoying it now, because it goes so fast.

    I know that these are conversational tools. It's an easy start to a conversation, a bland nothing to toss out there. People who I'm close to - they don't toss these in the conversation. They know I'm enjoying it now, and that really, I can just wait. To hear it 10 times a day from people who are just trying to say something without saying anything, well, just tell me you miss those days when your kids were young, and I might ask you how old they are now, and what they're doing, and then we can talk Momma-et-Momma.

    Make it Nice

    I don't write about work because work is not that interesting. I wouldn't want to get 'Dooced', but that's unlikely since I don't hate the people I work with. But today, I'm cranky.

    I talked to my boss about looking around in the company for a new position (I'm bored with what I do, I've been doing it too long). She basically told me that I have to be 'nicer'. Now, what I do is in Quality. In my experience with other companies, Quality is the hard ass part of the company. They said 'Jump' and everyone jumped. I'm STILL not used to that not being the case here.

    I have (and I admit this) given 'knee-jerk' responses when people want to do certain things. I say 'But no, you have to do this.' Because I'm Quality, right? I'm not supposed to do that, I'm supposed to help people look for solutions.

    And I'm ALL about solutions. If people actually knew how much I was all about the solutions, they'd be all, 'Hey, she's all about solutions! She doesn't want to bitch and moan, she wants to find ANSWERS! So we're ALL happy!' But I don't feel like I get a whole lot of compromise when I find something wrong, people are just dandy with how things are working, and I should go figure it out without bothering them.

    It should be obvious to EVERYONE that you can't solve a problem that way.

    So how do I be a strong person, a strong employee, and helping direct the company in the direction that I was hired to help the company go in, when I'm perceived as difficult when I am firm. And the nice thing? It isn't working. People aren't changing their habits.

    As much as I do like my boss, she doesn't provide me with a strong role model in this regard, and I don't know how to seek any other upper management out as a role model, though there are a couple people that I think might be able to help me out.


    I didn't grow up very close to my cousins. On both sides of the family I was much younger than most of my cousins. To add to that, we moved to California and then New Jersey, while everyone else stayed in Illinois. It's not easy to foster close relationships from thousands of miles away.

    In the last few years, I've started getting to know one cousin who is very close in age to me, who also is recently married, and is having her first child in three weeks. She's a nutball! But it's fun!

    I went to visit her last night in an attempt to keep her mind off pregnancy, and we played 90's Trivial Pursuit while Luke broke in all his cousin-to-be's toys (sorry about that, little one, your big cousin is wrecking your stuff). 90's Trivial Pursuit? Kind of a pain in the ass. Since we were all doing horribly, we started giving clues.

    I asked a question that had the answer 'Birkenstocks'. The question was something about the colors they came in, like Chili Pepper Red. So to start them out, I said 'Think German'.

    My cousin came out with 'British Knights'. Like I said, NUTBALL!

    Tuesday, October 04, 2005

    Cats and Babies

    I locked the cat in the baby's bedroom last night - ALL night. Not on purpose, no. But I can now guarantee that they don't suck the baby's breath. The cat was NOT happy this morning, when my husband heard the baby crying and cat mewing on the monitor.

    The Kid's Getting a Mind

    Last night, I picked up Luke and he started screaming. And screaming and screaming. I inspected him for large nails protruding from his skin, bumps, bruises, misaligned limbs, but I couldn't find any reason for him to be screaming except because I picked him up.

    Can we say 'crap'? Because really, a kid who gets ticked when I pick him up from playing at 8 months is NOT my idea of a good time.

    I thought 'He must just be tired' and I changed him and sent him to bed (okay, I PUT him in his crib). And he screamed. And he screamed. For longer than usual, so I got him up and fed him a bottle, which he took hungrily and dozed off during.

    This morning, he was playing downstairs while I ate breakfast, and I picked him up and put him in his crib so I could take a shower. He really hates playing in his crib after he's already been taken OUT of his crib. He's okay with it after he wakes up, but once he's out, he's out! (in his head).

    So there was screaming. All through my shower. Want a relaxing shower? Don't have a baby.

    After the shower I picked him up and he was HORRIFICALLY UPSET. The hiccupping breathing from crying too hard, the clutching at me if I neared the ground with him. So I had to hold him and play with him and slowly convince him that he was okay playing by himself while I went through my morning routine (Read: Changed the Daily Trivia game topic for the day).

    Good times, man, good times.

    Monday, October 03, 2005

    Being Good

    Tonight, I was good. I took Luke for a walk to the park, and he went a-swingin'. He screamed in glee and was only mildly upset that I prevented him from licking the swing.

    I picked some of the apples from our two apple trees and cut down some more dead branches (prune your trees, people!). The apples had moths or whatever it is that burrow inside them, but they were a nice size, and one of my goals is to find out what I need to do to prevent the bugs so we can eat the apples next year.

    We went to the grocery store, where I picked up Luke enough food to last one, maybe two weeks. It was on sale and I had coupons. Crazy saving woman!

    I cleaned up the kitchen, I didn't snack all night, I put another layer of finish on the dining room table. I was so good.

    And what the hell does that mean? Why is it bad when I watch TV all night and don't clean? Why is it bad to not check anything off the list for a night or two? Maybe if I didn't think it was bad, I wouldn't worry about being good or bad so much.

    Want a penny?

    Earlier today, I was walking around and felt something odd in my shoe. It felt as if there was a coin in my shoe and it was very distracting from the walking. Walk, slide, walk, slide.

    So I took off my shoe and inspected it's insides. No coins. My sock just must have been folded weird, was my conclusion.

    Walk, slide, walk, slide.

    So I inspected my foot again. There was a penny in my SOCK. I'm not in the habit of putting pennies in my socks, and these were clean socks when I put them on this morning, so I'm not sure where this penny came from.

    Want a penny? Only mild foot funk!

    Food, again

    Luke has been going through a growth spurt of some kind, because he's eating constantly. I buy jars and jars of food, and cans and cans of formula, and we're feeding him table food, too. It's constant, the feeding.

    When he's hungry and excited about eating, he opens his mouth wide and his hands and feet twirl in anticipation of the food on the spooon. Even when he's not so excited about eating, and I just want to get the last couple spoonfuls in, he obligingly opens his mouth for more food.

    I know he needs food right now to grow, he seems to be getting longer and leaner by the hour, and I can't keep up. Can his stomach hold enough food to maintain his baby chubbiness? As active as he is, too, with creeping and dragging and climbing and standing, we've got a lot of energy to keep up with.

    He woke at 2 AM Saturday morning, took 6 ounces of a bottle and went right back to sleep. Hungry, rumbly tummy needed filling! When he wakes up hungry (which is maybe once a week now) he wakes up HUNGRY! And my little boy will get the food he needs to grow!


    This weekend Luke had a few more firsts. The first year of life? Is a complete whirlwind of firsts.

    He's playing his first interactive games with us. We ask him "Where's Lucas?" and he pulls a blanket or napkin over his head and in front of his face, and then drops it down. He can do this forEVER. We also have 'motorboat'. I say "Motorboat!" and make a razzberry noise with my lips and he'll respond with his razzberry.

    On Friday night he went to his first Japanese steakhouse! He didn't have any steak, but he wasn't at all upset by the flames - as I've mentioned, my kid's a daredevil!!

    Sunday morning he made two coordinated crawling motions, left arm/right leg and then right arm/left leg. He finished the day off but pulling himself to standing on Daddy, and then in the bathtub. Over and over the standing up in the slippery slippery bathtub! Babies are like eels when they're wet, so he kept slipping away.

    Just one weekend in the life of an alomst eight month old...