The Weaning Begins

This poem was stolen with love from La Leche League. Kind of like the formula from Babies R Us yesterday. Which was a complete accident. Really. Anja was in the stroller and not in the shopping cart because it was easier for her to have a snack in the stroller. Really. The formula was in the bottom of the stroller and the pacifiers were on the top. The diapers were in my hand. I didn't realize the formula was STILL in the bottom of the stroller until after I put Anja back in her car seat and was preparing the fold up the thing and put it in the trunk. Really. It was a huge oops. And I know I should have gone back inside. But one does not realize how much time it takes to take out a stroller, take out the baby, put baby in said stroller, attach toys and snack, grab diaper bag (which contains wallet), and lock the car. I look at it as a gift from Babies R Us in exchange for all of the business I've given them. Or perhaps it's payback for the glider rocker that didn't arrive until five days before Anja was born, about a month late.

ANYWAY.

The weaning has begun. Anja started it. She decided that she would rather sleep at night than nurse. Then she decided that she would rather play in the evening before she went to bed instead of nurse. So now she only nurses in the morning and at dinner and gets her bottles in between. And I'm kind of eager to get rid of that before dinner nursing because she's pretty hyper and that is when she likes to play with me with those little teeth of hers. My goal is to have her completely weaned by Dr. Z's graduation party in May so that I can pour myself a margarita out of the machine and drink the whole thing. Then I will probably promptly pass out after over 18 months of pregnancy/nursing-forced sobriety. Oh well.

But I like this poem. For as relieved as I am that breastfeeding will soon be over, there is heartbreak too. Her weaning is symbolic that she doesn't need me like she used to. I am no longer her only source of sustenance. I remember when she was teeny (well, teeny for her) she would nurse for a really long time and I would sit and stroke her hair and her ears and study all of her fingers and her toes, just amazed that she was mine. When she was a little older she would play peek-a-boo with me: she would stop nursing to stare up at me and would not go back to nursing until I looked down at her. Needless to say, these little games made nursing last a long time, but it sure was fun. I'm going to miss the morning nursings the most. It's our morning snuggle after several hours of not seeing each other.

But I'm ready for weaning. BRING IT ON! There's a girls night out in the works when all of this is over.

Wean Me Gently
by Cathy Cardall


I know I look so big to you,
Maybe I seem too big for the needs I have.
But no matter how big we get,
We still have needs that are important to us.
I know that our relationship is growing and changing,
But I still need you. I need your warmth and closeness,
Especially at the end of the day
When we snuggle up in bed.
Please don't get too busy for us to nurse.
I know you think I can be patient,
Or find something to take the place of a nursing;
A book, a glass of something,
But nothing can take your place when I need you.
Sometimes just cuddling with you,
Having you near me is enough.
I guess I am growing and becoming independent,
But please be there.
This bond we have is so strong and so important to me,
Please don't break it abruptly.
Wean me gently,
Because I am your mother,
And my heart is tender.

The Meme

Dr. Z. posted this 3-word meme not too long ago and I thought to myself, "Hmm. That looks fun, but I just don't want to think that much. Answering questions in 3 words: no more, no less? I think I'll go watch some TV." Lx commented today that no one else had completed the meme. Which, to me, sounds a bit like a challenge. So while the litter box sits soaking in bleach...

1. Where is your cell phone? On computer desk
2. Boyfriend/girlfriend? Hunky sperm donor
3. Hair? Disliking new cut
4. Your mother? Alive in Austin
5. Your father? Also in Austin
6. Your favorite item(s)? Anja, sperm donor
7. Your dream last night? Hmmm, no recollection
8. Your favorite drink? Limey, frosty margaritas
9. Your dream guy/girl? Sperm donor? Check.
10. The room you are in? Messy spare bedroom
11. Your fear? Sperm donor hurt
12. What do you want to be in 10 years? Happy, healthy, wise
13. Who did you hang out with last night? Anja, sperm donor
14. What are you not? Lean fighting machine
15. Are you in love? Absolutely for sure
16. One of your wish list items? Girls night out
17. What time is it? Now? Eleven twenty.
18. The last thing you did? Soaked litter box
19. What are you wearing? Pants and shirt
20. Your favorite book? Depends on mood
21. The last thing you ate? Yummy Shipley's doughnut
22. Your life? Filled with joy
23. Your mood? High on caffeine
24. Your friends? Diverse and fun
25. What are you thinking about right now? Writing three words
26. Your car? Gold Honda Accord
27. What are you doing at this moment? Straining my brain
28. Your summer? Still in planning
29. Your relationship status? Married eleven years
30. What is on your TV screen? Quiet empty screen
31. When is the last time you laughed? Watching Anja play
32. Last time you cried? Sanjaya still there
33. School? Never, never again

Kind of hard when referring to husband as sperm donor.

You Learn Something New Every Day

For years, I have wondered what the purpose was of the little metal plate below the faucet in my bathtub. And now I know.

It's a mirror. For babies. So they can check out how cute they are naked. Anja loves to look at herself in the bathtub mirror. She is very cute. The sperm donor and I think she looks like a little Buddha because of her round tummy.

And while she's doing that, Mommy is singing this song to the tune of Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie." We have dedicated it to the Flashy Quackers.

Oh ducky when you flash like that
You make me want to crawl after you
Swimming ducky
Swimming ducky
Swimming with my duckies in the bathtub

Oh ducky duck
You know I like to go swimming with you
Swimming ducky
Swimming ducky
Swimming with my duckies in the bathtub

The Class

I thought of this book as I was driving home the other night. I started a writing class, so for the next three weeks I am meeting with a group of people who are also struggling to find a way to express themselves. I mentioned in a previous post that my grandmother kept a scrapbook filled with everything I ever wrote. I mean everything. I used to write stories when I was a child. I am an only child, so I developed very extensive characters, perhaps in hope that they would become real to me. I took a creative writing class in high school. I think I may have been going through a dark period at that point...lots of depressing poetry and a first-person account of dying in a car accident (on which I received an A, thank you very much). She also kept all of these papers I wrote in college. And then I didn't really write in a creative fashion until I started this blog, even though my mother and grandmother would say "You should write again." Anyway, I received this giant book as a Christmas gift from my mother. And there were many things in that book about which I had forgotten. I actually wrote a children's book once. About a cat and a pie. I read it to Anja a few times, but she is too busy with crawling and standing to mess with any books right now.

So receiving this giant book was perhaps the motivation for signing up for this class. I've never viewed myself as a writer, although I have been a person who writes for years. Our assignment for this week is to write about a photograph from our childhood. We wrote about the photo for a few minutes in class, but, as usual, my mind got way in front of my hand and the result is a bit like what happens when you rear-end someone - everything stops without much warning. But I have a week or so to finish it up. And maybe I'll turn it into a poem - I actually have lots of ideas but I need to stick with the assignment before I get all carried away.

I hope maybe I'll start writing more in the near future. And more beyond this blog, although this is a good testing ground. I have found a struggle in being something more than a mom. Maybe this is something I can call my own.

All Of You May Now Address Me As...

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Her Most Serene Highness Lady Nissa the Foamy of Durdle Door Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Thanks to zombie.

Our Tribute To Barbaro

Barbaro the Horse died last week. For those of you who are not die hard equestrian fans, Barbaro won the Kentucky Derby last May in dramatic fashion. Two weeks later while running in the Preakness Stakes, Barbaro broke his leg, an injury usually considered to be a fatal condition for a race horse. Barbaro's leg was pinned back together and all were optimistic. However, complications soon developed and, last week, his owners decided his time had come.

I have to be honest here. I have never been a horse fan. I can count on one hand the number of times I have sat upon a horse. I never owned a stuffed horse. I never wanted a pony. I don't think I have even fed a horse a carrot. I went to some horse races once and I won a few dollars, but I was bored: the races only lasted a few seconds and the periods of time between races seemed to last an eternity.

Anja was just over one month old when Barbaro was injured. I remember we were driving around one day and we heard a story on NPR about the surgery to repair Barbaro's injured leg. NPR reported that Barbaro returned to his stall after his surgery and ate some hay. I found that really amusing and commented to Anja that after I had major abdominal surgery to deliver her I was taken back to my room and given clear liquids. For the next several days, I would look at her and say "He ate some haaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" and she would smile. Every time I said "haaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy" she would smile. So we named the toy horse in her play gym Barbaro. Later I attached little stuffed Barbaro to her stroller so she would have something to play with while we went on walks outside or to the mall, rather than grabbing at everything around her. Barbaro still sits there, hanging from her stroller strap.

I still don't think I will ever become a big horse fan. But I don't think I will ever forget Barbaro. Lots of people have paid tribute to Barbaro for his beauty and his speed. I want to thank him for letting my little baby smile at his story and for letting her play with his little purple likeness.

In The Star Trek Universe...

You would serve in starfleet as a Lieutenant. Your current assignment is in Security/Tactical.

Any of the following positions could be available on a Starship:
Security Systems Management
Weapons Officer
Torpedo Room Officer
Chief Weapons Officer
Security Chief

Behind every mission is the need to feel safe. Security personnel are always the first to arrive, and the last to leave. They understand that danger can come from any direction and are always prepared for the fight that may never come. Through this dedication, loyalty and attention to detail they give us this feeling of safety. We all appreciate this because underneath it is hope. The hope that we should all learn from our mistakes, face our fears and live long enough to appreciate the beauty the universe shows us every day.

Live long and prosper...take the Star Trek Personality Test

I Pump More Than Gas

So, I'm back at work a few days a week. That's a whole other blog entry entirely which I will soon get to, but for now it does meet my three basic criteria of a job: not very hard, not very long, a good deal of money. Anja goes to her day care while I am at work and I pick her up when I am finished at about 2:00.

I'm amazingly still breastfeeding. When Anja was born, I was determined to nurse her until she was six months old then transition her to formula. She is almost ten months old now and still sucking milk out of me - thankfully, it is neither as many times a day nor for as long as she did during her early months. I figure I'll go for the gusto and go for a year. What's two more months compared to the past ten??

Anyway, it is probably pretty obvious that Anja can't suck milk out of me when I'm at work. Inherent in any extended separation from her is the need to pump before I explode and provide my surroundings with a giant milk bath. Fortunately, the clients at my new job take their 30-minute lunch break right at the time when I need to get rid of some milk.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that most employers do not offer new moms a nice pumping room, complete with the LaZBoy chair and TV. I know my new employer does not. I'm not even sure the hospital I was working at before Anja was born did, but it was a hospital where a couple of lactation consultants worked so I'm sure some arrangements could have been made. I am OK with pumping in my car; as long as I have a book to read and some fresh batteries I can pump just about anywhere. But lately, it has been a little cold outside so last week I went in search of warmer surroundings.

My new job site is very small. Last week, I carried my pump into the administrative offices and explained to a receptionist that I needed a private room for about twenty minutes to pump my milk for my precious little daughter. First, she offered the private restroom. Which was nice - it had a chair (aka toilet), a table to put my book on (aka sink), as well as an electrical outlet so the pump could work a little faster. Unfortunately, I was forced to point out to her the obvious reality that someone might need to go to the bathroom while I was in there pumping away. Ohhhhhh, she said, good point. So she led me outside (in the cold and rain), around the building, to another entrance where a small lunch room is located. She explained that there was a small room off the lunch room I could use which accommodated my request for privacy. We had to take this journey twice because she forgot the key the first time. The second time we walked in the cold and the rain she stopped to talk to the administrator. Did I mention I had thirty minutes? But we finally arrived at the promised destination which turned out to be a storage closet with no chair, only a small light, and no electrical outlet.

F***.

So, I'm back in the car. I can wear a coat. If it is extremely frigid outside, I can always run the engine. I'm fascinated how something so natural can be made so difficult. This brought quite a bit of discussion on the La Leche League message boards last week. I'm proud to be a breastfeeding mom. I just hope someday that breastfeeding moms and the people who witness them will be able to overcome their embarrassment and shame and feel comfortable with the whipping out of boobies and babies simultaneously.

Songs For The Cat

Manu's Song
(Lyrics written by Manu the Cat, music inspired by Mommy. Please visualize performing cat and laughing baby.)

I'm doing a little dance for my Anja
'Cause I am her little Manu
I'm doing a little dance for my Anja
'Cause I am her little Manu
Cats aren't s'posed to dance
But I like to dance
I'm doing a little dance for my Anja
'Cause I am her little Manu

Anja Had A Cat Named Manu
(to the melody of "Mary Had A Little Lamb")

Anja had a cat named Manu
A cat named Manu
A cat named Manu
Anja had a cat named Manu
Whose brain was very small

Well, come on. Any cat who "willingly" dances can't be too bright.

Heard It On The Radio

I was driving to work when it came on the retro lunchtime hour...

I guess I shoulda known
By the way u parked your car sideways
That it wouldn't last

See you're the kinda person
That believes in makin' out once
Love 'em and leave 'em fast

I guess I must be dumb
'Cuz U had a pocket full of horses
Trojan and some of them used

But it was Saturday night
I guess that makes it all right
And U say what have I got 2 lose?
And honey I say

Little red corvette
Baby you're much 2 fast
Little red corvette
U need a love that's gonna last

I guess I shoulda closed my eyes
When U drove me 2 the place
Where your horses run free

'Cuz I felt a little ill
When I saw all the pictures
Of the jockeys that were there before me

Believe it or not
I started to worry
I wondered if I had enough class

But it was Saturday night
I guess that makes it all right
And U say, "Baby, have U got enough gas?"
Oh yeah

Little red corvette
Baby you're much 2 fast, yes U r
Little red corvette
U need 2 find a love that's gonna last

A body like yours (A body like yours)
Oughta be in jail (Oughta be in jail)
'Cuz it's on the verge of bein' obscene
('Cuz it's on the verge of bein' obscene)

Move over baby (Move over baby)
Gimme the keys (Gimme the keys)
I'm gonna try 2 tame your little red love machine
(I'm gonna try 2 tame your little red love machine)

Little red corvette
Baby you're much 2 fast
Little red corvette
U need 2 find a love that's gonna last

Little red corvette
Honey U got 2 slow down (Got 2 slow down)
Little red corvette
'Cuz if U don't u gonna run your
Little red corvette right in the ground

(Little red corvette)
Right down 2 the ground (Honey U got 2 slow down) U, U, U got 2
slow down (Little red corvette) You're movin' much 2 fast
(2 fast) U need 2 find a love that's gonna last

Girl, U got an ass like I never seen
And the ride...
I say the ride is so smooth
U must be a limousine

Baby you're much 2 fast
Little red corvette
U need a love, U need a love that's
That's gonna last
(Little red corvette)
U got 2 slow down (U got 2 slow down)
Little red corvette

'Cuz if U don't, 'cuz if U don't,
U gonna run your body right into the ground (Right into the ground)
Right into the ground (Right into the ground)
Right into the ground (Right into the ground)

Little red corvette

My friends and I used to love this song when we were - what - twelve or thirteen? But we didn't get it. We were young and naive. I think our knowledge of sex at that time we gained from multiple readings of Judy Blume's Forever. So we didn't understand this song. But my friend, Jean Anne, had a sister who was much older than us. She was in college and she had this boyfriend who I think was named Mark and was very cute. She explained "Little Red Corvette" to us so, once we got over it being gross, we knew we were cool because we were in the know.

So there I was, driving to work, singing quite loudly about trojans and gasoline and little red love machines and remembering all of this from my middle school days, and dreading the day that Anja hears a song like this (it will probably be by Puffy-Poopy-Diddy-P). I don't know how long it had been behind me, but I sure jumped when that ambulance honked at me to get the hell out of the way. It even had it's lights on and the siren blaring (a sure sign of how loud I sing). Oops.

But I always find it amusing how a song triggers memories. Today I've had Kiss' "God Gave Rock And Roll To You" in my head, almost to the point where I need to hum "The Girl From Ipanema" to get it out. I once heard a story on NPR (which I can't seem to find on their archives) which instructed you to hum the melody to "The Girl From Ipanema" in order to get an annoying song out of your head. And it actually works. Anyway, the Kiss song brings back lots of memories too.

The babe stirs...

You Know You Do

How many of you parents have during bathtime shampooed your little one's hair, shaped it into a mohawk, and sang Wayne Newton's "Danke Schoen"?

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen,
Thank you for all the joy and pain.
Picture show, second balcony, was the place we'd meet,
Second seat, go Dutch treat, you were sweet...
...I recall Central Park in Fall,
How you tore your dress, what a mess, I confess, that's not all...

You know you do.

Old Man Winter

The city is covered with ice on this January day. The sperm donor is working from home, the day care is closed, and this now working mom is home too. Earlier, I thought it was snowing (as it is north of here), but the sperm donor explained to me that sleet is composed of pellets and snow is composed of flakes. It's all white to me.

Once this ice storm clears up (not any time soon, according to the local news), I would like to declare an end to winter. Anja has seen more winter in her nine months than I have in my thirty-something years. Towards the end of our holiday stay in Albuquerque, fourteen inches of snow dumped in my in-laws' back yard. There were the sperm donor and his mom, all bundled up, shoveling snow from their driveway. The snow does not shut down their city as completely as the ice does here. The sperm donor's aunt had a small holiday party at her house, and the sperm donor's mother drove us slowly and cautiously there and back in her all-wheel drive without one slide.

I'm not a winter girl. This south Texas girl is all about spring and summer. I get cranky if I don't see the sun for a few days. I would rather sweat than shiver. Being cooped up in the house waiting for the ice to melt is about to make me crazy. But I have to admit - the snow in Albuquerque was quite beautiful. I had never seen that much snow in my life. The scenery really did look like all of those photos of winter I have seen in magazines and Sierra Club calendars. The snow on the ground looked like a fluffy warm velvet blanket, until you got closer to the street where it became a dirty slushy mess. Each little tree branch carefully balanced its spoonful of snow until the weight was too much to bear. The snow covered neighborhood was very quiet and peaceful.

But it wasn't enough to make me want it full-time. SUN!! I declare you come out!!!

Sigh...

It is a nice day to lie around and read books. My precious daughter is napping on the bed next to me. She slept all night last night (a rare occurrence) so maybe she likes this weather. I think I'll catch up on some blogs that have been running in my head.

Road Songs

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.

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. You are quite possible one of the most sensitive people I know and I don't even know you! You care what each and every single person thinks about you. You're the kind of person who sends around a txt to everyone they know saying "i thnk ur prtty. wat do u thnk abt me? rate me frm 1-5." That's 1 meaning "I hate you" and 5 meaning "You make me vomit when I look at you." You're still crying, aren't you? Sure. All you want is for someone to appreciate you once in a while. Aww... Boohoo. Hold a pity party sometime. The garden's free. Lots of worms down there. Big ones. Small ones. Squishy ones. My guess is you don't understand this test one bit. You can't imagine how anyone could be so insulting or why anyone could find it even remotely amusing...STOP THE DAMN WATERWORKS, WOMAN! Naive is a word that needs to be branded on your forehead... Alright, now I feel bad. Sure, you do have some redeeming factors, just not many. Sorry. ***************** If you want to learn more about your personality type in a slightly less negative way, check out this. ***************** The other personality types are as follows... Loner - Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving Pushover - Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging Criminal - Introverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving Borefest - Introverted Sensing Thinking Judging Almost Perfect - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving Freak - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging Loser - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving Crackpot - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging Clown - Extraverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving Commander - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving Do Gooder - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Judging Scumbag - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving Busybody - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging Prick - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving Dictator - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 99% on Extraversion You scored higher than 99% on Intuition You scored higher than 99% on Thinking You scored higher than 99% on Judging

Link: The Brutally Honest Personality Test written by UltimateMaster on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.