We are in Albuquerque again, this time to celebrate Anja's first Christmas with her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Thirteen hours in the car is a bit much for me, but not for my little trooper. She always had a parent in the back seat with her to keep her entertained. These songs helped a lot too.
Carrot The Snowman
(obviously to the tune of "Frosty The Snowman" and dedicated to the toy snowman Anja received at her first visit to Santa)
Carrot The Snowman
Was a really happy guy
'Cause he lived with a little girl named Anja
Who really made him smile
Carrot The Snowman
Was as happy as he could be
When Santa let him live with the little girl
He was all filled up with glee
He has coal for eyes
And a carrot for a nose
But his smile is ten feet wide
And when she reaches out for him
It just about makes him cry
OH - Carrot The Snowman
Was a really happy guy
'Cause he lived with a little girl named Anja
Who really made him smile
The Gotta Go Song
(make up your own melody - I did)
Mommy has to pee
Really really badly
Mommy has to pee
Or things could get really messy
Daddy will get mad if Mommy pees in the car
'Cause we still have to drive really far
Mommy has to pee
Really really badly
That last one got the sperm donor laughing so hard that I could barely finish the song through my own laughter. Which got Anja giggling - either because it was funny or because her parents are nuts.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Saturday, December 16, 2006
A Little Sticky, Lots Of Sap
This via zombie. In my defense, I am a social worker. Social workers, by nature, tend to be sensitive, compassionate, empathic, sympathetic, capable of unconditional love, and loads of other crap. And usually to a fault.
| Sap- ESFJ 53% Extraversion, 26% Intuition, 20% Thinking, 53% Judging |
| Aww...you know that sensitive mamsy-pansy sap I was talking about earlier? Yeah. Well, someone had to get it and you pulled the short straw. Now pull yourself together, crybaby.
*****************
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Loner - Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving |
 |
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The Brutally Honest Personality Test written by UltimateMaster on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Incidentals
I was parked at a stop light the other day when a guy pulled up next to me playing his car stereo really loud. He was singing just as loud and looked like he was having a really good time. Though I can't remember what it was, his car looked like a piece of junk and he must have spent some serious money to put in such an awesome sound system. I rolled my window down out of curiosity to see what he was listening and singing along to.
It was the theme from "The Family Guy." And he was loving it.
When I was in middle school, there was a listing in the phone book for...
TITZHOFF Henauder ____________ ###-####
Seriously. We all had these little notebooks we had to carry from class to class in order to write down all of our homework. Our parents had to sign our books at the end of the week. I suppose this was to eliminate the possibility that we might forget having homework, but not the possibility that we simply did not want to do it. My friends and I all decorated our notebooks with the names of the guys we liked (many of whom got crossed out as time went by) in addition to logos for Van Halen and Def Leppard and such. I cut Mr. Titzhoff's number out of the phone book and taped it to my notebook.
Anja now has three boyfriends at day care: the one she holds hands with on the buggy, the one she occasionally shares toys with, and the one who makes sure to retrieve all of her toys which are stolen by the older kids. Sigh.
The sperm donor and I assembled this for Anja last night. It is a Christmas gift, but she doesn't know much about Christmas so I figured she could have it early. She's already managed to pull one piece off and throw it across the floor (this is a great hobby right now). Maybe when she grows up she will learn to develop baby toys that are baby proof.
It was the theme from "The Family Guy." And he was loving it.
When I was in middle school, there was a listing in the phone book for...
TITZHOFF Henauder ____________ ###-####
Seriously. We all had these little notebooks we had to carry from class to class in order to write down all of our homework. Our parents had to sign our books at the end of the week. I suppose this was to eliminate the possibility that we might forget having homework, but not the possibility that we simply did not want to do it. My friends and I all decorated our notebooks with the names of the guys we liked (many of whom got crossed out as time went by) in addition to logos for Van Halen and Def Leppard and such. I cut Mr. Titzhoff's number out of the phone book and taped it to my notebook.
Anja now has three boyfriends at day care: the one she holds hands with on the buggy, the one she occasionally shares toys with, and the one who makes sure to retrieve all of her toys which are stolen by the older kids. Sigh.
The sperm donor and I assembled this for Anja last night. It is a Christmas gift, but she doesn't know much about Christmas so I figured she could have it early. She's already managed to pull one piece off and throw it across the floor (this is a great hobby right now). Maybe when she grows up she will learn to develop baby toys that are baby proof.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Riding In Cars With Boys
The day care teachers take the babies for a buggy ride during the day. Six little babies strapped into a giant red wagon. Even the little babies get to go, equipped with their own little infant seat. The babies are then steered through the office building where the sperm donor works. Sometimes they even go outside. Several of the sperm donor's co-workers leave their cubicles during the buggy ride in order to wave at the babies.
Anja seems to like the buggy ride, although a couple of times she has nodded off during it. The buggy ride is a good chance for her to see her daddy. She is very popular during the buggy ride as she is only one of two female babies at day care.
A couple of days ago, Anja was spotted holding hands with one of the little boys during the buggy ride.
This naive mom really thought that we didn't need to address this subject for at least another twelve or thirteen years. We talked about what it meant to hold hands with boys. I told her that she probably should avoid holding hands with all of the boys because she might earn a reputation as some kind of hussy. And those cute little boys might have their feelings hurt.
She said: "A-ya ya ya ya ya. Ya ya ya ya ya. Aaaaiieeeee!! Ya ya ya ya. Ba. Ba. Ba." So I think she understood.
Anja seems to like the buggy ride, although a couple of times she has nodded off during it. The buggy ride is a good chance for her to see her daddy. She is very popular during the buggy ride as she is only one of two female babies at day care.
A couple of days ago, Anja was spotted holding hands with one of the little boys during the buggy ride.
This naive mom really thought that we didn't need to address this subject for at least another twelve or thirteen years. We talked about what it meant to hold hands with boys. I told her that she probably should avoid holding hands with all of the boys because she might earn a reputation as some kind of hussy. And those cute little boys might have their feelings hurt.
She said: "A-ya ya ya ya ya. Ya ya ya ya ya. Aaaaiieeeee!! Ya ya ya ya. Ba. Ba. Ba." So I think she understood.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
A Truly Great Moment In Parenting
Anja has discovered solid foods. Well, not "solid". "Solid" really refers to anything that is not breastmilk or formula. But she gobbles down bananas and cereal a couple of times a day at day care, and last night she was gobbling down some carrots. In a couple of days we might try some peaches.
Liquid diets tend to produce liquid poops, but throw some food in there and you never know what you will get. So I was so delighted when I changed Anja's diaper the other day and found a different kind of poop. I yelled out to the sperm donor...
"Look honey!! She's made her first turd!!"
Ahh...the joys of parenting.
Liquid diets tend to produce liquid poops, but throw some food in there and you never know what you will get. So I was so delighted when I changed Anja's diaper the other day and found a different kind of poop. I yelled out to the sperm donor...
"Look honey!! She's made her first turd!!"
Ahh...the joys of parenting.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Anja Says
Ba ba ba ba ba ba. Aa-ba ba ba ba ba. Ba ba ba (claps hands for emphasis). Aaaaaaaaaaa! Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba. Aa-ba ba ba ba ba ba ba.
What? Yeah, I don't know what it means either. But it sure is fun.
What? Yeah, I don't know what it means either. But it sure is fun.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Giving Thanks
(The following editorial has been reprinted without permission from the HC Middle School newspaper, circa November 1982)
Do You Enjoy Thanksgiving?
By Nissa B.
In two days it will be Thanksgiving. Do you ever get tired of the same Thanksgiving customs? Boy, I know I do.
Every year my family has turkey. So do numerous other families. But some families have duck or another interesting bird.
For dessert every year we have pumpkin pie. My grandmother makes the pie out of the pumpkin she bought at Halloween. Sometimes I wonder if the inside of that pumpkin is still edible after a month. But some groups of people have other desserts - mincemeat pie or sometimes even raisin pie.
Another problem with Thanksgiving is trying to think of something to be thankful for. I guess the most logical thing for HCMS students to be thankful for is that we get a five-day weekend.
(The following rebuttal was submitted to the same newspaper, circa December 1982)
Many Thanks
By Ms. G.
I was sorry to read the sentiments of one of our students who felt the only thing she had to be thankful for was five days away from school. Don't get me wrong - teachers are grateful for holidays, too. I'm looking forward to cold, rainy mornings to sleep late and to eating a turkey sandwich while I catch up on a soap opera or two. But I'm grateful for more than that. This has been a rough year for me, and I'm thankful for family members and friends who have provided loving support. I'm glad that I have a career that continues to be challenging and stimulating. I'm grateful for young friends who, as students, give me a fresh perspective on life. At this holiday time, I'm made more aware of basics to eat and a warm, safe place to live. Look more closely than just a break from school. Our lives are running over with blessings.
Ms. G. was the home economics teacher at my middle school. I never took a home ec class so I didn't know Ms. G. personally. Now, I kind of wish I had taken sewing so I could make a Christmas stocking for Anja. Anyway, Ms. G. later married Mr. M., who was the assistant principal of my middle school, and later of my high school. I remember they were both very small people. Physically. They could both be described as petite.
I agree with Ms. G. that my priorities may have been a little misplaced way back in 1982. Come on. What was I? Twelve? Thirteen? But I will defend myself. For over eight years, I worked at a job where I worked most holidays and the occasional weekend with no extra pay. Last year, when I finally got a five-day weekend for the Thanksgiving holiday, no doubt because I was pregnant and tired, I was damn thankful.
This year is much different. I think of the people who sat around my table today at Thanksgiving dinner (where, I might add, we ate the same things we did when I was twelve). My dear friend San, who I have known for half my life. I was so thankful for her this past summer when she accompanied us to a weekend-long wedding celebration in Colorado. A wedding I kind of dreaded going to. But she hung out with Anja and me while the sperm donor tended to his wedding duties. And we laughed. A lot.
My parents. To my mother who has been the comforting voice in all of the difficult moments since Anja's birth. And to my father. The one regret I have in giving birth to my child at the age of 36 is that she will, like me, never get to know her grandfather. He is declining, both physically and mentally, but he takes great delight in her smiles. Ultimately, it will be up to my vivid imagination to make sure he is always alive for her.
OH! And to her!! The newest addition to our Thanksgiving table, sitting happily in her high chair, banging her toys and her spoon on the tray. Anja ate some sweet potatoes, some gravy, and some whipped cream for her first Thanksgiving dinner. It was around this time last year that I first felt her squirm in there. It felt as thought she were running lightly across my tummy. Just before Thanksgiving last year we found out that she was a healthy little girl (thanks be to amnio!). And we both breathed a huge sigh of relief, accompanied by a "whoopee!" because we both really wanted a girl. A year later, she is a rolling-creeping-sitting-smiling-laughing machine. I still look at her with awe - I can't even begin to believe she is my daughter.
And then there was him. Feeding her whipped cream off the tip of his spoon. If there was no sperm donor, there would be no her. And probably no me. And so I am thankful to him, for allowing me to sacrifice financial security for our daughter's well being. For giving her the late night bottles when I'm too sleepy. For supporting my decision to keep on nursing. For picking up dinner all of those nights I don't feel like cooking (which is most nights). For putting crap together. For putting her new car seat in my car. For making me laugh before I go to sleep. For taking care of our birth control issue, which he thinks is no big deal, but for me means I don't have to subject myself to the health risks of the pill and I get to keep all of my parts intact. And for countless other things.
And I am thankful for me. But mostly, I'm just thankful for the huge gift I have been bestowed. I am so blessed to have a beautiful daughter who laughs and smiles and sings all the time. And who is healthy. She and the sperm donor are the center of my world. I guess Ms. G. and I have more in common than we used to.
Oh, and I told Anja that when she wants a little brother or sister, I would just get her a puppy.
Do You Enjoy Thanksgiving?
By Nissa B.
In two days it will be Thanksgiving. Do you ever get tired of the same Thanksgiving customs? Boy, I know I do.
Every year my family has turkey. So do numerous other families. But some families have duck or another interesting bird.
For dessert every year we have pumpkin pie. My grandmother makes the pie out of the pumpkin she bought at Halloween. Sometimes I wonder if the inside of that pumpkin is still edible after a month. But some groups of people have other desserts - mincemeat pie or sometimes even raisin pie.
Another problem with Thanksgiving is trying to think of something to be thankful for. I guess the most logical thing for HCMS students to be thankful for is that we get a five-day weekend.
(The following rebuttal was submitted to the same newspaper, circa December 1982)
Many Thanks
By Ms. G.
I was sorry to read the sentiments of one of our students who felt the only thing she had to be thankful for was five days away from school. Don't get me wrong - teachers are grateful for holidays, too. I'm looking forward to cold, rainy mornings to sleep late and to eating a turkey sandwich while I catch up on a soap opera or two. But I'm grateful for more than that. This has been a rough year for me, and I'm thankful for family members and friends who have provided loving support. I'm glad that I have a career that continues to be challenging and stimulating. I'm grateful for young friends who, as students, give me a fresh perspective on life. At this holiday time, I'm made more aware of basics to eat and a warm, safe place to live. Look more closely than just a break from school. Our lives are running over with blessings.
Ms. G. was the home economics teacher at my middle school. I never took a home ec class so I didn't know Ms. G. personally. Now, I kind of wish I had taken sewing so I could make a Christmas stocking for Anja. Anyway, Ms. G. later married Mr. M., who was the assistant principal of my middle school, and later of my high school. I remember they were both very small people. Physically. They could both be described as petite.
I agree with Ms. G. that my priorities may have been a little misplaced way back in 1982. Come on. What was I? Twelve? Thirteen? But I will defend myself. For over eight years, I worked at a job where I worked most holidays and the occasional weekend with no extra pay. Last year, when I finally got a five-day weekend for the Thanksgiving holiday, no doubt because I was pregnant and tired, I was damn thankful.
This year is much different. I think of the people who sat around my table today at Thanksgiving dinner (where, I might add, we ate the same things we did when I was twelve). My dear friend San, who I have known for half my life. I was so thankful for her this past summer when she accompanied us to a weekend-long wedding celebration in Colorado. A wedding I kind of dreaded going to. But she hung out with Anja and me while the sperm donor tended to his wedding duties. And we laughed. A lot.
My parents. To my mother who has been the comforting voice in all of the difficult moments since Anja's birth. And to my father. The one regret I have in giving birth to my child at the age of 36 is that she will, like me, never get to know her grandfather. He is declining, both physically and mentally, but he takes great delight in her smiles. Ultimately, it will be up to my vivid imagination to make sure he is always alive for her.
OH! And to her!! The newest addition to our Thanksgiving table, sitting happily in her high chair, banging her toys and her spoon on the tray. Anja ate some sweet potatoes, some gravy, and some whipped cream for her first Thanksgiving dinner. It was around this time last year that I first felt her squirm in there. It felt as thought she were running lightly across my tummy. Just before Thanksgiving last year we found out that she was a healthy little girl (thanks be to amnio!). And we both breathed a huge sigh of relief, accompanied by a "whoopee!" because we both really wanted a girl. A year later, she is a rolling-creeping-sitting-smiling-laughing machine. I still look at her with awe - I can't even begin to believe she is my daughter.
And then there was him. Feeding her whipped cream off the tip of his spoon. If there was no sperm donor, there would be no her. And probably no me. And so I am thankful to him, for allowing me to sacrifice financial security for our daughter's well being. For giving her the late night bottles when I'm too sleepy. For supporting my decision to keep on nursing. For picking up dinner all of those nights I don't feel like cooking (which is most nights). For putting crap together. For putting her new car seat in my car. For making me laugh before I go to sleep. For taking care of our birth control issue, which he thinks is no big deal, but for me means I don't have to subject myself to the health risks of the pill and I get to keep all of my parts intact. And for countless other things.
And I am thankful for me. But mostly, I'm just thankful for the huge gift I have been bestowed. I am so blessed to have a beautiful daughter who laughs and smiles and sings all the time. And who is healthy. She and the sperm donor are the center of my world. I guess Ms. G. and I have more in common than we used to.
Oh, and I told Anja that when she wants a little brother or sister, I would just get her a puppy.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Hello To Me
Greetings to my likeness over there on the right. Zombie made her for me. I think she is an incredible resemblance to me. I think she looks very therapist-like, like me in LBA (Life Before Anja). Because I probably would be listening to you while sipping from my mug of coffee. Or it may not be coffee. It may very well be tequila. Like the t-shirts say "Drink Til I Look Better", I'm going to drink until you are interesting.
Oh that sounds so rude!! But at least I'm listening.
Oh that sounds so rude!! But at least I'm listening.
Tongue Tied
I have never been able to do anything fun with my tongue.
(Pause while naughty friends have inappropriate thoughts)
Seriously. I can't make shapes with my tongue. I can't turn it sideways or make it into a "u". I once knew a girl who could shape her tongue into a clover. How envious I was, and how truly odd her tongue looked. I can't even roll my freaking tongue which is a bit of an embarrassment living in South Texas and knowing a little bit of Spanish. My tongue has an inferiority complex.
That inferiority complex was severely wounded once again a few mornings ago. Anja has been able to stick her tongue out for a long time. She was just a few weeks old when she would stick her tongue out at me after I would stick mine out at her several times. But I was not prepared for this. She stuck her tongue out at me a few mornings ago. And it was sideways.
I suppose this must be genetic. The sperm donor can do it. Anja keeps doing it now as if she is taunting me. "Look, Mommy, what I can do and you can't!" And she sticks out her little sideways tongue.
I'm gonna go practice in the mirror.
(Pause while naughty friends have inappropriate thoughts)
Seriously. I can't make shapes with my tongue. I can't turn it sideways or make it into a "u". I once knew a girl who could shape her tongue into a clover. How envious I was, and how truly odd her tongue looked. I can't even roll my freaking tongue which is a bit of an embarrassment living in South Texas and knowing a little bit of Spanish. My tongue has an inferiority complex.
That inferiority complex was severely wounded once again a few mornings ago. Anja has been able to stick her tongue out for a long time. She was just a few weeks old when she would stick her tongue out at me after I would stick mine out at her several times. But I was not prepared for this. She stuck her tongue out at me a few mornings ago. And it was sideways.
I suppose this must be genetic. The sperm donor can do it. Anja keeps doing it now as if she is taunting me. "Look, Mommy, what I can do and you can't!" And she sticks out her little sideways tongue.
I'm gonna go practice in the mirror.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
What To Wear???
I love to watch TLC's "What Not To Wear." This is the show in which someone with lousy fashion sense is given a trip to New York and a Visa card with $5000 in order to get a fabulous new wardrobe. Give me a marathon and I am glued to the TV. I told the sperm donor that I was going to wear maternity clothes for two years so that he could videotape how hideous I looked so I could be on the show. Unfortunately, after about three months postpartum I did look pretty hideous. The shirts were way too big and the shorts were all baggy in the butt. All of the clothes are currently in the process of being moved to the consignment shop.
So I have a job interview today (an unpromising one, but that's another story). Yesterday I was tending to some laundry while Anja was playing and, standing in my closet, I realized that I had nothing to wear. Thanks to breastfeeding, I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight but that is by no means where I would like to be. And I'm proportioned differently. There's more flab. And, also thanks to breastfeeding, my boobs are at least a cup size bigger, depending on what time of the day it is. So none of my shirts fit. My own daughter has more clothes that fit her in her closet than I do.
So I loaded up Anja and we went shopping. First, let me say that most retail stores are not set up for a woman with a stroller. The aisles are too narrow. Anja has developed the ability to reach out and grab things while we are moving. It is related to the ability that drops the toys out of the stroller while we are moving. So I was simultaneously looking for clothes and stopping to either pick up a toy or remove Anja's hand from an unsuspecting skirt.
I finally found some candidates and proceeded to the fitting room. The girl monitoring the fitting room was nice enough to let us have the extra large fitting room equipped for people with disabilities (that's nice and politically correct). As I tried on my items, I kept wondering "If I were on What Not To Wear, what would Stacy and Clinton say?" Does this a-line skirt take away attention from my larger hips and ass? Does this top say my boobs are large milk devices? Does the way this material hangs de-emphasize my tummy which at one time was flat? Is it still OK to wear control top panty hose? Does anyone wear panty hose anymore?
Anja was no help in answering these questions. She sat there in her stroller and smiled at the baby in the mirror the whole time.
So I found a nice chocolate brown pattern skirt and top outfit. The sperm donor later said "I don't know what I think of brown," and I reminded him that Stacy says that chocolate brown is hot. It also helped that I already had some chocolate brown shoes at home. We proceeded to the shoe department anyway. Where we entered heaven...the boot sale.
Anja now knows that Mommy has a boot fetish. In my version of heaven, there are lots of boots. I cannot get through a boot sale without taking home at least one pair of boots. And there they were...black, pointy heal, pointy toe, up to nearly my knees. They actually zipped up my calf easily. The sales guy said they looked hot on my legs (yeah, especially with my black shorts and Alaska t-shirt that zombie's hubby bought for me). They are beautiful, and now they are mine.
The boots cost more than the outfit. I don't care. I have no income and this interview today isn't promising to change that much. But I have my boots. I can't remember the last time I bought myself some shoes that weren't intended to comfort my little swollen feet. Or the last time I bought myself some real clothes. This from the woman who used to buy clothes just because she had a bad day at work. And there were a lot of bad days.
The only regret I have is that the boots were not available in my size in the fabulous chocolate brown color. But that's OK. Maybe when I get home, I'll put them on with some jeans, pump my boobs, and wear them to pick up Anja at day care. And then I'll feel whole again.
So I have a job interview today (an unpromising one, but that's another story). Yesterday I was tending to some laundry while Anja was playing and, standing in my closet, I realized that I had nothing to wear. Thanks to breastfeeding, I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight but that is by no means where I would like to be. And I'm proportioned differently. There's more flab. And, also thanks to breastfeeding, my boobs are at least a cup size bigger, depending on what time of the day it is. So none of my shirts fit. My own daughter has more clothes that fit her in her closet than I do.
So I loaded up Anja and we went shopping. First, let me say that most retail stores are not set up for a woman with a stroller. The aisles are too narrow. Anja has developed the ability to reach out and grab things while we are moving. It is related to the ability that drops the toys out of the stroller while we are moving. So I was simultaneously looking for clothes and stopping to either pick up a toy or remove Anja's hand from an unsuspecting skirt.
I finally found some candidates and proceeded to the fitting room. The girl monitoring the fitting room was nice enough to let us have the extra large fitting room equipped for people with disabilities (that's nice and politically correct). As I tried on my items, I kept wondering "If I were on What Not To Wear, what would Stacy and Clinton say?" Does this a-line skirt take away attention from my larger hips and ass? Does this top say my boobs are large milk devices? Does the way this material hangs de-emphasize my tummy which at one time was flat? Is it still OK to wear control top panty hose? Does anyone wear panty hose anymore?
Anja was no help in answering these questions. She sat there in her stroller and smiled at the baby in the mirror the whole time.
So I found a nice chocolate brown pattern skirt and top outfit. The sperm donor later said "I don't know what I think of brown," and I reminded him that Stacy says that chocolate brown is hot. It also helped that I already had some chocolate brown shoes at home. We proceeded to the shoe department anyway. Where we entered heaven...the boot sale.
Anja now knows that Mommy has a boot fetish. In my version of heaven, there are lots of boots. I cannot get through a boot sale without taking home at least one pair of boots. And there they were...black, pointy heal, pointy toe, up to nearly my knees. They actually zipped up my calf easily. The sales guy said they looked hot on my legs (yeah, especially with my black shorts and Alaska t-shirt that zombie's hubby bought for me). They are beautiful, and now they are mine.
The boots cost more than the outfit. I don't care. I have no income and this interview today isn't promising to change that much. But I have my boots. I can't remember the last time I bought myself some shoes that weren't intended to comfort my little swollen feet. Or the last time I bought myself some real clothes. This from the woman who used to buy clothes just because she had a bad day at work. And there were a lot of bad days.
The only regret I have is that the boots were not available in my size in the fabulous chocolate brown color. But that's OK. Maybe when I get home, I'll put them on with some jeans, pump my boobs, and wear them to pick up Anja at day care. And then I'll feel whole again.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Anja's Discovery Story
A few days ago while Anja was napping, I found myself watching some show on the Discovery Health channel about a baby who was born with two heads. She really was. Off the top of her little head was a whole other head, with eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Not much else below that though. And they had all of this hair where their two heads met. It really looked a little gross and freakish actually. While the little girl was sitting there calmly, the other head was attempting to scream away (I don't think the head had any vocal chords). The other head also displayed the sucking reflex. The doctors referred to the second head as "the parasite" which I thought was a bit rude; if your child is born with two heads, then clearly there was another twin present so it ought to have a name. Surgery was done to remove the head but the little girl died soon afterwards.
I think Anja should have a show on the Discovery Health channel simply because she is so spectacular. Maybe it could be about how big she was at birth. So many people look amazed when I say "Well, she was almost ten pounds when she was born. I attribute it to lots of pancakes." But we could make that more intriguing, something people would be warped into once they started watching...
Anja's Story: There Were Triplets, But She Got Hungry And Ate The Other Two
Gripping.
I think Anja should have a show on the Discovery Health channel simply because she is so spectacular. Maybe it could be about how big she was at birth. So many people look amazed when I say "Well, she was almost ten pounds when she was born. I attribute it to lots of pancakes." But we could make that more intriguing, something people would be warped into once they started watching...
Anja's Story: There Were Triplets, But She Got Hungry And Ate The Other Two
Gripping.
Friday, November 03, 2006
One Thing I Am Not...
Is mechanically minded. I think I wrote an earlier post about how I assembled Anja's high chair. NOT!! Reading instruction manuals is like reading gibberish for me. I could probably get more out of reading an instruction manual in Japanese, but still could not get an item put together. I think I am lacking some major brain connection that allows information to travel from reading about to actually doing. Thank goodness for the sperm donor because he knows how to figure all of these things out. If he were not here, I would probably live in a house filled with disassembled crap.
With Anja in day care, I'm free to do some things around the house which really need to be done. Today I bleached the litter box. Yesterday I decided to vacuum my couches. Three cats, lots of fur. I put little towels and blankets on the couches for them to sleep on, and they all manage to sleep right next to them. And they all look at me like "I will not comply with your efforts to prevent me from dumping my fur!!" I have a housekeeper who, poor thing, probably does not have a great deal of experience vacuuming fur off of couches, so they have been looking pretty hairy.
So, in my efforts to self-soothe in Anja's absence, I decided to vacuum the couches. I have one of these fancy Dyson vacuums that the sperm donor bought on eBay. I never use it. Again, I have a housekeeper. But it has some fancy attachment which looked like it might be good in my battle against fur. But first, I had to figure out how to remove the hose from the vacuum in order to attach said attachment. So, I push here and I pull there with no luck. About fifteen minutes passes. Yes, fifteen minutes, because what happens when you have a baby is that you are granted tons more patience than you have ever known. I decide to go get the manual. I don't know why this seemed like a good idea, and thank goodness I couldn't find the darn thing because I'm confident I would not have been able to comprehend it. Finally, I squeezed in the right place and the hose came off. WOO HOO!! I quickly attach said cool attachment and press the power button to see if it works. Nothing. I press the power button again. Nothing. I press the power button lots of times. Still nothing.
I know what you're thinking. It took me about five minutes to think the same thing.
Maybe I should plug in the vacuum.
And with that I commenced the vacuuming of the couches. They look a little better. They need some major work though because not only have the cats dumped fur on them but some barf as well. Sigh.
I'm off for more cleaning. Yesterday I bought some frames in which to put pictures of Anja. And I'm going to call and check on her. I miss my Doodle. I know she misses me too.
With Anja in day care, I'm free to do some things around the house which really need to be done. Today I bleached the litter box. Yesterday I decided to vacuum my couches. Three cats, lots of fur. I put little towels and blankets on the couches for them to sleep on, and they all manage to sleep right next to them. And they all look at me like "I will not comply with your efforts to prevent me from dumping my fur!!" I have a housekeeper who, poor thing, probably does not have a great deal of experience vacuuming fur off of couches, so they have been looking pretty hairy.
So, in my efforts to self-soothe in Anja's absence, I decided to vacuum the couches. I have one of these fancy Dyson vacuums that the sperm donor bought on eBay. I never use it. Again, I have a housekeeper. But it has some fancy attachment which looked like it might be good in my battle against fur. But first, I had to figure out how to remove the hose from the vacuum in order to attach said attachment. So, I push here and I pull there with no luck. About fifteen minutes passes. Yes, fifteen minutes, because what happens when you have a baby is that you are granted tons more patience than you have ever known. I decide to go get the manual. I don't know why this seemed like a good idea, and thank goodness I couldn't find the darn thing because I'm confident I would not have been able to comprehend it. Finally, I squeezed in the right place and the hose came off. WOO HOO!! I quickly attach said cool attachment and press the power button to see if it works. Nothing. I press the power button again. Nothing. I press the power button lots of times. Still nothing.
I know what you're thinking. It took me about five minutes to think the same thing.
Maybe I should plug in the vacuum.
And with that I commenced the vacuuming of the couches. They look a little better. They need some major work though because not only have the cats dumped fur on them but some barf as well. Sigh.
I'm off for more cleaning. Yesterday I bought some frames in which to put pictures of Anja. And I'm going to call and check on her. I miss my Doodle. I know she misses me too.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Adventures At The Drive Thru - Chapter 2
Sperm donor went to our beloved TC's a few nights ago to pick us up some dinner. Here is a list of contents from our bag:
1. My coveted enchilada plate (I can't remember if it was cheese or beef right now)
2. My little package of tortillas
3. The sperm donor's bean and cheese taco.
4. The sperm donor's steak fajita taco.
5. Some napkins
6. Little containers of salsa.
7. A straw
?????
I don't see any beverages in that list. Do you?? The sperm donor said that maybe they thought we were going to drink the salsa.
1. My coveted enchilada plate (I can't remember if it was cheese or beef right now)
2. My little package of tortillas
3. The sperm donor's bean and cheese taco.
4. The sperm donor's steak fajita taco.
5. Some napkins
6. Little containers of salsa.
7. A straw
?????
I don't see any beverages in that list. Do you?? The sperm donor said that maybe they thought we were going to drink the salsa.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
D-Day
Anja is at her first day at day care right now. The last time I checked in she was crying. So was I. This is the longest we have ever been separated. It is also the first time since before she was born that I have been alone in my house.
I'm miserable. I tried to capitalize on the opportunity for some extra sleep, but instead I laid there and wept. Even Manu the Cat is upset; he has been wandering around the house meowing which he usually does not do in the mornings.
If someone handed me six more months at home with her on a silver platter I would take it and ask for more. But when the Cadillac of day cares calls you a year after you place yourself on their waiting list to inform you that your child's space is ready, then you have to jump on it. It may not be there if you wait.
So off she left this morning with the sperm donor. Sperm donor, by the way, is thrilled. The Cadillac of day cares is located at his work. He gets to see her any time of day that he wants, just by wandering down the hall. Can you imagine what a stress buster that must be? To be able to wander down the hall after an especially taxing meeting to see your smiling daughter? That is one of the pros in a long list of pros about day care. Now, Anja gets to play with other babies and with different toys. When she gets a little older, they will help her learn to read, draw pictures, do tumbling. And she will get to make friends.
The one con on the list? (Well, actually there are two, but we won't talk about how much this is costing us) Mommy is a mess and doesn't quite know what to do with herself. I have this horrible image in my brain of my beautiful daughter playing with toys at day care and looking around for her mommy who is usually playing with toys with her. Yesterday, we were playing with her Fisher Price balls. I would roll one back and forth in front of me and she would scoop it up and put it in her lap. Then I would roll another one back and forth in front of me and she would put that one in her lap. The third ball kept rolling out of her lap (the lap is not very big yet) giving me the opportunity to take it back. But at day care, she will realize that mommy is not there and she will become sad and start to cry. This is actually happening as I type. So I feel like the worst mommy ever. I pointed at her heart before she left and told her that mommy is ALWAYS in there, then pointed at my heart and told her that Anja is ALWAYS in there. I think she might have forgotten that. She is only going to day care for half a day until I find a job (and hopefully after that too), but it's all I can do to keep from going right now.
We went to a Halloween party last night. Anja dressed as a ladybug. She was the cutest ladybug ever (although she could make a bag lady look pretty cute). I was talking with my friend about Anja going to day care and she told me that it was really hard when she sent her son to day care at first too. Then she said, "But at least she won't be the weird kid at school who eats paste." And I thought, good point. Anja will have friends, will be able to follow directions, may be even able to say please and thank you in a few years. She will have social skills. She won't stick a handful of glue in her mouth because she will have learned at day care that glue is not for eating. She will soon adjust to the new faces and the new surroundings.
While Mommy tries to adjust to the silence. It feels like my heart was put in the car seat with her. I look at my house with six months worth of accumulated clutter and I try to get motivated to do something about it. I think of all the places I go where I always think it would be so much easier to run into without Anja and the car seat. I think about going back to work and I cringe.
I'm confident there will be gallons of tears between Anja and me as we make this transition. If anything, it shows how much we love each other, how bonded we have become. It's something I think I have underestimated, but never will again.
I'm miserable. I tried to capitalize on the opportunity for some extra sleep, but instead I laid there and wept. Even Manu the Cat is upset; he has been wandering around the house meowing which he usually does not do in the mornings.
If someone handed me six more months at home with her on a silver platter I would take it and ask for more. But when the Cadillac of day cares calls you a year after you place yourself on their waiting list to inform you that your child's space is ready, then you have to jump on it. It may not be there if you wait.
So off she left this morning with the sperm donor. Sperm donor, by the way, is thrilled. The Cadillac of day cares is located at his work. He gets to see her any time of day that he wants, just by wandering down the hall. Can you imagine what a stress buster that must be? To be able to wander down the hall after an especially taxing meeting to see your smiling daughter? That is one of the pros in a long list of pros about day care. Now, Anja gets to play with other babies and with different toys. When she gets a little older, they will help her learn to read, draw pictures, do tumbling. And she will get to make friends.
The one con on the list? (Well, actually there are two, but we won't talk about how much this is costing us) Mommy is a mess and doesn't quite know what to do with herself. I have this horrible image in my brain of my beautiful daughter playing with toys at day care and looking around for her mommy who is usually playing with toys with her. Yesterday, we were playing with her Fisher Price balls. I would roll one back and forth in front of me and she would scoop it up and put it in her lap. Then I would roll another one back and forth in front of me and she would put that one in her lap. The third ball kept rolling out of her lap (the lap is not very big yet) giving me the opportunity to take it back. But at day care, she will realize that mommy is not there and she will become sad and start to cry. This is actually happening as I type. So I feel like the worst mommy ever. I pointed at her heart before she left and told her that mommy is ALWAYS in there, then pointed at my heart and told her that Anja is ALWAYS in there. I think she might have forgotten that. She is only going to day care for half a day until I find a job (and hopefully after that too), but it's all I can do to keep from going right now.
We went to a Halloween party last night. Anja dressed as a ladybug. She was the cutest ladybug ever (although she could make a bag lady look pretty cute). I was talking with my friend about Anja going to day care and she told me that it was really hard when she sent her son to day care at first too. Then she said, "But at least she won't be the weird kid at school who eats paste." And I thought, good point. Anja will have friends, will be able to follow directions, may be even able to say please and thank you in a few years. She will have social skills. She won't stick a handful of glue in her mouth because she will have learned at day care that glue is not for eating. She will soon adjust to the new faces and the new surroundings.
While Mommy tries to adjust to the silence. It feels like my heart was put in the car seat with her. I look at my house with six months worth of accumulated clutter and I try to get motivated to do something about it. I think of all the places I go where I always think it would be so much easier to run into without Anja and the car seat. I think about going back to work and I cringe.
I'm confident there will be gallons of tears between Anja and me as we make this transition. If anything, it shows how much we love each other, how bonded we have become. It's something I think I have underestimated, but never will again.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Ooo Eee Ooooooo Eeeeeeee Ooooooooo (The Twilight Zone Theme)
Anja woke up last night when she got hungry. This sleepy mom read the clock as 1:30. And in usual fashion, both mom and daughter fell asleep in the comfy nursing chair. I put sleeping Anja back in her crib and proceeded back to bed.
The clock said 1:30...again.
And so we grieve another end to daylight savings time. Boy, I hate it when it gets dark so early.
The clock said 1:30...again.
And so we grieve another end to daylight savings time. Boy, I hate it when it gets dark so early.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The Giggle
Anja laughs like Beavis and Butthead. Now, my mother reads my blog and she is not going to know who that is. Let me see if I can find a sound clip.
Here.
Now, raise that up a couple of octaves and you have the Anja laugh. She's a tough sale though. She will smile at you willingly and often, but you have to do something really special to get the giggle. I used to get the giggle when I sang "Stars and Stripes" to her, with a few WEEEs thrown in. But now that's old. Now I get the giggle if I sit her on top of me and do tummy crunches. It's kind of like peek-a-boo, but a lot more painful. It's definitely worth it.
I'm sure that someday she will be like this. And she will laugh more than all four of them put together!!
Here.
Now, raise that up a couple of octaves and you have the Anja laugh. She's a tough sale though. She will smile at you willingly and often, but you have to do something really special to get the giggle. I used to get the giggle when I sang "Stars and Stripes" to her, with a few WEEEs thrown in. But now that's old. Now I get the giggle if I sit her on top of me and do tummy crunches. It's kind of like peek-a-boo, but a lot more painful. It's definitely worth it.
I'm sure that someday she will be like this. And she will laugh more than all four of them put together!!
Adventures At The Drive-Thru - Chapter 1
I really like Mexican food. I could eat it for three meals a day each day of the year. In my city, there is a certain local Mexican restaurant which has a location on nearly every corner. I won't name it in order to give it some modicum of anonymity, but us locals call it TC's. And the food is actually pretty decent. A few locations are open 24 hours. I started going to TC's when I was in college. The original TC's is located right down the street from my college campus and it was a very popular hang out for students back in the day. On Friday nights after hanging out in local bars, everyone would flock to that one TC's and the line for the drive-thru went down the street for a block or two. The sperm donor and I went to that one TC's the night we met and enjoyed some tacos. So this restaurant chain has played a significant role in my life. Food does that.
So imagine our excitement a few years ago when a TC's opened just five minutes from our house. Bean and cheese tacos, fajitas, enchiladas, breakfast tacos, margaritas...all within walking distance (although we have never walked there). The drive-thru has become a regular spot to pick up dinner. But something weird always happens at the drive-thru. I can't tell you how many times I have come home, TC's bag in hand, and said to the sperm donor, "I have got to blog about this." For starters, TC's does not advertise themselves as a fast food restaurant, thus justifying the long wait in the line. To me, if it looks like a fast food restaurant, operates like a fast food restaurant, and tastes like a fast food restaurant, then it probably is. If you go inside, you order at a counter and are given a number which is momentarily screamed incoherently. So, I don't know why the wait is so long. Then there was the little female teenage snit who worked the drive thru window and always used to say "Make sure you have your money ready when you get to the window." To which it took much restraint not to reply with "Well, you make sure to have my *&!@ food ready at the window and we'll have a deal!"
So tonight I'm sitting at the drive-thru ready to relay my order to Rosa and...well it goes something like this...
Rosa: Welcome to TC's. What can I get you?
ME: I will have a bean and cheese taco, a -
Rosa: I'm sorry, I can't hear you. What was that again?
ME: A bean and cheese taco.
Rosa: Oh, OK. (Bean and cheese taco flashes on the screen in front of me) What else would you like?
ME: I would also like a steak fajita taco.
Rosa: I'm sorry. I'm still having a really hard time hearing you. How would you like your chicken?
ME (screaming at this point and wondering how a chicken entered our dialogue): No. I said a steak fajita taco.
Rosa: Oh, OK. (Steak fajita taco flashes on the screen in front of me) Would you like anything else?
ME: An enchilada plate.
Rosa: What?
ME: AN ENCHILADA PLATE!
Rosa: Oh. How many?
ME: Two!
Rosa: What kind?
ME: Beef.
Rosa: Cheese?
ME: No. Beef.
Rosa: Cheese??
ME: BEEF!
Rosa: Cheese???
ME: WHATEVER!
Long pause. My total flashes on the screen.
ME: Thank you.
Rosa (as I am driving away): Was that right?
So, I get to the window and Rosa inquires about my enchiladas. I told her I really wanted beef, but cheese will do. I am handed a bag with my enchiladas and only one taco. My receipt mentions nothing about my bean and cheese taco.
I got it for free.
Stay tuned. I promise there will be more!
So imagine our excitement a few years ago when a TC's opened just five minutes from our house. Bean and cheese tacos, fajitas, enchiladas, breakfast tacos, margaritas...all within walking distance (although we have never walked there). The drive-thru has become a regular spot to pick up dinner. But something weird always happens at the drive-thru. I can't tell you how many times I have come home, TC's bag in hand, and said to the sperm donor, "I have got to blog about this." For starters, TC's does not advertise themselves as a fast food restaurant, thus justifying the long wait in the line. To me, if it looks like a fast food restaurant, operates like a fast food restaurant, and tastes like a fast food restaurant, then it probably is. If you go inside, you order at a counter and are given a number which is momentarily screamed incoherently. So, I don't know why the wait is so long. Then there was the little female teenage snit who worked the drive thru window and always used to say "Make sure you have your money ready when you get to the window." To which it took much restraint not to reply with "Well, you make sure to have my *&!@ food ready at the window and we'll have a deal!"
So tonight I'm sitting at the drive-thru ready to relay my order to Rosa and...well it goes something like this...
Rosa: Welcome to TC's. What can I get you?
ME: I will have a bean and cheese taco, a -
Rosa: I'm sorry, I can't hear you. What was that again?
ME: A bean and cheese taco.
Rosa: Oh, OK. (Bean and cheese taco flashes on the screen in front of me) What else would you like?
ME: I would also like a steak fajita taco.
Rosa: I'm sorry. I'm still having a really hard time hearing you. How would you like your chicken?
ME (screaming at this point and wondering how a chicken entered our dialogue): No. I said a steak fajita taco.
Rosa: Oh, OK. (Steak fajita taco flashes on the screen in front of me) Would you like anything else?
ME: An enchilada plate.
Rosa: What?
ME: AN ENCHILADA PLATE!
Rosa: Oh. How many?
ME: Two!
Rosa: What kind?
ME: Beef.
Rosa: Cheese?
ME: No. Beef.
Rosa: Cheese??
ME: BEEF!
Rosa: Cheese???
ME: WHATEVER!
Long pause. My total flashes on the screen.
ME: Thank you.
Rosa (as I am driving away): Was that right?
So, I get to the window and Rosa inquires about my enchiladas. I told her I really wanted beef, but cheese will do. I am handed a bag with my enchiladas and only one taco. My receipt mentions nothing about my bean and cheese taco.
I got it for free.
Stay tuned. I promise there will be more!
Monday, October 02, 2006
How To Assemble A High Chair
1. Get box cutter and a screwdriver.
2. Place baby in play gym.
3. Open box and remove contents. Look at contents with awe and wonder.
4. Assemble high chair toy as directed in Step 1 of instructions.
5. Show toy to baby.
6. Read Step 2 of instructions. Look at contents again.
7. Tend to fussy baby who got stuck in gym while rolling over.
8. Read Step 2 again. Look perplexed.
9. Say an expletive.
10. Ask sperm donor for help with Step 2.
11. Play with baby.
12. Watch as sperm donor assembles the rest of the high chair.
13. Play with baby.
14. Look at assembled high chair with awe and wonder. Thank sperm donor for showing you the difference between inny parts and outty parts.
15. The next day, put batteries in the toy you so masterfully assembled.
16. Put baby in high chair. Don't forget to adjust the straps on the seat!
17. Show baby the toy you put together for her.
18. Take lots of pictures.
2. Place baby in play gym.
3. Open box and remove contents. Look at contents with awe and wonder.
4. Assemble high chair toy as directed in Step 1 of instructions.
5. Show toy to baby.
6. Read Step 2 of instructions. Look at contents again.
7. Tend to fussy baby who got stuck in gym while rolling over.
8. Read Step 2 again. Look perplexed.
9. Say an expletive.
10. Ask sperm donor for help with Step 2.
11. Play with baby.
12. Watch as sperm donor assembles the rest of the high chair.
13. Play with baby.
14. Look at assembled high chair with awe and wonder. Thank sperm donor for showing you the difference between inny parts and outty parts.
15. The next day, put batteries in the toy you so masterfully assembled.
16. Put baby in high chair. Don't forget to adjust the straps on the seat!
17. Show baby the toy you put together for her.
18. Take lots of pictures.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Conversations II
She squirms in the night
I listen
Wondering if she will awaken
A couple of minutes go by
And she is silent
Then so am I
She squirms in the night
I listen
I hear her cry that says
Mommy, I'm hungry!
FEED ME!
NOW!
I go sleepily to her
She nurses in silence
When she is finished
I lay her down next to me
She plays with her feet
Fascinated with the toes
That are now covered with pajamas
She rolls over and goes to sleep
Then so do I
She squirms in the morning
I watch
Her breathing quickens
Her eyelids flutter
She is dreaming
One last dream before waking
Her lips move
She dreams of eating
What a wonderful dream!
She rubs her eyes
Slowly they open
She looks at me and I say
Good morning, Doodle!
Did you have sweet baby dreams?
She smiles
Our day has begun
I listen
Wondering if she will awaken
A couple of minutes go by
And she is silent
Then so am I
She squirms in the night
I listen
I hear her cry that says
Mommy, I'm hungry!
FEED ME!
NOW!
I go sleepily to her
She nurses in silence
When she is finished
I lay her down next to me
She plays with her feet
Fascinated with the toes
That are now covered with pajamas
She rolls over and goes to sleep
Then so do I
She squirms in the morning
I watch
Her breathing quickens
Her eyelids flutter
She is dreaming
One last dream before waking
Her lips move
She dreams of eating
What a wonderful dream!
She rubs her eyes
Slowly they open
She looks at me and I say
Good morning, Doodle!
Did you have sweet baby dreams?
She smiles
Our day has begun
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Anja's Ode To Her Tummy
There's no place I would rather be
Than on my sweet little tummy
My mommy puts me on my back
But I want to be face down and flat
On my tummy I can see
Everything there is to see
I play with toys and make some noise
Then lower my head to go to sleep
My mommy says that back is best
She worries I won't get any rest
But, oh, sweet Mommy, don't worry about me
For on my tummy is the place for me!
Than on my sweet little tummy
My mommy puts me on my back
But I want to be face down and flat
On my tummy I can see
Everything there is to see
I play with toys and make some noise
Then lower my head to go to sleep
My mommy says that back is best
She worries I won't get any rest
But, oh, sweet Mommy, don't worry about me
For on my tummy is the place for me!
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