Thursday, January 31, 2008

Happy Anniversary to Us

Happy Anniversary to Us! We're going out with Tucker, since we weren't able to find a babysitter. At least we're going out.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Baby OCD

The other night T had his jammies on the ottoman. He spent between 10 and 15 minutes taking them off the ottoman and putting them on the floor. Then, back on the ottoman. Floor. Ottoman. Floor. Ottoman. Floor. Ottoman. Well, you get the idea. Funny how he has all these toys and his favorite activities are playing with the tupperware, climbing on his highchair and flinging his clothes around.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Hooray new tires

The BMW had a big bubble on one of the tires for the past month or so (yes, Dads, I know we shouldn't have been driving on it). Since we only had a month or so of treadlife, we had to replace all 4 tires. Ryan ordered some tires online and we got them installed today. Whew. It makes me feel a lot better knowing that it's fixed. Plus, Ry says it makes a huge difference in the way it drives. Hooray new tires!

Mmmm, sleeping baby

T has been taking really inconsistent naps lately. I think he's transitioning to one nap per day. I'm OK with that, since the number of 2+ hour naps has been increasing. It's amazing what you can do when your baby is asleep for 2 hours.

Monday, January 21, 2008

The funniest, dirtiest man on TV

Mike Rowe, who hosts Dirty Jobs, was recently interviewed by Fast Company magazine. I've always enjoyed his sense of humor during the show, but I laughed until I cried when I read this piece of the article. Prior to Dirty Jobs, Mike hosted the graveyard shift on QVC. He had just returned from a weekend including lots of beer when he got the opportunity to host the prime time slot. Here is what happened next:

'He had just returned from a weekend getaway involving the beach, a case of Dos Equis, and one of those hand models, when a Sunday-evening emergency call arrived from the studio: The prime-time host was ill. Eager to prove his mettle, Rowe rubbed the weekend from his eyes and headed into work, only to find a display of collectible girlie dolls waiting for him. "There were dozens of little hobbits," he recalls, still sounding vaguely offended some 18 years later. "Little pixies from another time, just sitting there like these little Victorian whores. I thought it was a joke."

He was about to be humiliated in his first shot at prime time. "I'd already called everyone I knew to watch." The producer tried to calm him down, but in his panic, Rowe just reverted to his usual shtick. He picked up the first doll, Rachel--"a nightmare in crushed velvet"--by the hair and plopped her in his lap. "I think I described her as 'soulless, a little creepy but kind of hot,' and as 'a runaway from Little Women,'" he says now, rubbing his head. The crew on the set was dumbstruck. But, Rowe says, "I was really encouraged because the little whore sold out in record time."

Then someone handed Rowe a 2-foot nun doll named Sister Mary Margaret. "If you wound her up, she played 'Climb Every Mountain,' which I thought was hysterical." Rowe had four minutes to kill but ran out of material in 30 seconds, including the time he spent having her spank him with a ruler. Then he tried to crank up her music feature. "I've already announced that she plays music, and I'm squeezing her hand, looking around her neck, but I can't figure it out." When the technical director finally cut away to a display version of the same doll, Rowe, in desperation, turned the little sister upside down in his lap and peeled down her garment. He finally found the crank "in the small of her back, but it's really sort of in her ass." Unfortunately, the technical director cut back to Rowe without warning: "Suddenly, I see myself live on the monitor, with Sister Mary Margaret's face in my crotch, my hand on her ass, and her habit around her neck. And the damn thing is playing 'Climb Every Mountain.'" Rowe froze in horror, then made an unfortunate gesture not suitable for prime time. "It was not good."

By the time he got home, his answering machine was jammed. "The 47th message was my boss, inviting me not to come back," says Rowe. But an outcry from viewers earned him a second chance. "I was always on double supersecret probation," he says. And he rarely made it off the graveyard shift. He lasted three years.' (courtesy of Fast Company, Feb 2008).

Seriously, this man should report the news. I'd watch.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

I'm up

It's 11:30 pm. I'm awake. Apparently sleeping next to someone for 4 years has rendered me completely unable to complete a task I did quite competently on my own for the first 24 years. Thankfully, my sleep inducer is coming home tomorrow.

In addition to not having warm husbandly goodness the past 3 days, I've also been doing a bit of soul-searching. I've enjoyed my two jobs post-grad school well enough. I'm just feeling that there must be something else I'm meant to be doing. I don't know what that is. In all reality, I probably won't be doing much of anything for a few years, but still, it keeps me up at night.

My life is so overfull of love, contentment and blessing that I should be passing that on in some form. HR, while lucrative for us, never turned me on the way other things have. After having a child and doing some reading around birth/nursing/etc I've been fired up about helping women to make their own choices about how these events unfold. While I don't regret my decisions during T's birth, I often wonder if I would have made different ones if the doctor hadn't come in 30 minutes after we got to the hospital and hooked me up to a pitocin drip. I credit one of the night nurses at the hospital with the fact that I am nursing T today. Without this night angel, I'm pretty sure I would have given up. Could I be a nurse/midwife? Or a lactation consultant? How does one become a lactation consultant, exactly?

I'm reading a book about the founding of the United States. I never realized what a strange and lucky occurrence it was. It, like many other books I've read recently, makes history come alive in a way that 12 years of school never did. If I had it to do over again, I think I'd be a history major, focusing in American Indian or Hawaiian history.

Then I read about the genocide in Darfur (and all over the globe) and wonder how I can make a difference in a country half a world away. Somehow donating a few dollars just doesn't cut it.

I admire people who know what they want to be when they grow up. I've never felt that passion for something. Lately, I've been feeling a passion to do something ... I just don't know what.

Sorry to drag you all into my late night ramblings. I'm hoping that getting them out of my brain might allow me to turn off for the night. Good night. Sleep tight.

Sunday, January 06, 2008

I can has your attention now?

Every night after T goes to bed, Chief climbs up on Ry and demands his attention. It doesn't much matter what he's doing, reading, using the laptop, playing the DS, Chief crowds it all out. Poor kitteh is lonely.

Happy Lazy Day

The sum total of our productivity today was 0. It was lovely. Ry, T and I had a quiet little day in our beautiful new living room and didn't do much other than eat and snuggle. After a busy two weeks, it was just what we were looking for. I'm changing from last night's pjs into tonight's after a shower. Ahh.

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Crabby baby sleeps

My baby has been extraordinarily crabby today. In his highchair, he cried. On the floor, he cried. In the shopping cart, he cried. In general, he cried today. It was a huge relief when he went to bed.


After several weeks of family here, our little house is quiet again. I'm sad. I really miss having family around ... they're good company. We also got the hardwood floors installed in the living room. Aren't they pretty?
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