I thought he'd be over the moon about it, but he really didn't seem too impressed. Oh well, at least his knees aren't up by his ears anymore.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The New View
After 25 and a half long months of staring at himself in a mirror or watching scenery move backwards, The Boy's car seat was finally turned around. 
I thought he'd be over the moon about it, but he really didn't seem too impressed. Oh well, at least his knees aren't up by his ears anymore.
I thought he'd be over the moon about it, but he really didn't seem too impressed. Oh well, at least his knees aren't up by his ears anymore.
Monday, September 12, 2011
10 Places I Love
In honor of a post by Peeper who posted in honor of Her Mama, I have made a list of my 10 favorite places.
1. The bedroom I share with my boys and my cat. It's where we start the day, with The Boy calling from his crib, "Up Dada!" And where we end it, with The Boy running around before we bathe him, then climbing into bed while he "reads" his books and we snuggle. The cat settles at the foot of the bed as we put The Boy in his crib, then I actually read him his bedtime stories. Heaven!
2. Prague. I have a picture of the Vltava River, Charles Bridge and Prague Castle as my desktop, so whenever I turn on my laptop The Boy goes, "Pog!" Then when I open up a window and it disappears he goes, "Where's it, Pog?"
Prague and I have an awfully long history together. I first read about it when I was still in high school and it was still in Czechoslovakia. I've lived there a few times, visited countless times and am beyond excited about the prospect of one day taking The Boy there.
3. Paris. I mean, who doesn't love Paris? I was lucky enough to visit a few times when I was young and poor, but I really fell in love when Hubs and I lived in London and I would make an annual trip on Eurostar across the Channel.
And it's not the usual touristy things that I love about Paris, and miss now that I rarely get to go there. I miss being able to sit in cafes for hours, lingering over a teeny tiny cup of coffee without being hassled about leaving. I love sitting on the banks of the Seine during the Summer Solstice festival(Fete de la Musique) and walking the streets of my beloved 9th arrondisement - the slightly dingy district between Montmartre and the Grands Boulevards.
4. San Francisco – It started out as a glittering Bohemian alternative to my dry, suburban Southern Californian childhood and became the place where I met and fell in love with Hubs. I coveted living there when I was a young’un, went clubbing there when I went to university across the Bay and worked in nearly every building in the Financial District while I was temping just out of college.
Along with the myriad places I love in San Francisco – Caffe Trieste in North Beach, the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park, City Lights Bookstore in North Beach and Green Apple Books on Clement Street – I really loved the commute I had to the last job I had there. I took the bus along Union, then it turned onto Columbus, passing the old people doing Tai Chi in Washington Square. We’d then whiz through North Beach before I’d get off on Market.
For a long time I’d hop on Bart to get to my job in Oakland. Starting almost exactly 10 years ago, spooked by the idea of taking the Transbay Tube, I would get myself a bagel and a coffee, hop on a nearly empty ferry and sail east across the Bay watching the sun rise over the Oakland Hills.
5. Berkeley – Where I went to college and the only place I have ever lived on my very own.
6. London – It’s big, it’s crowded, endures occasional riots and I still absolutely love it. Hubs and I lived in West London for years. For one of those years I had to take the Piccadilly Line clear across London to Bloomsbury for grad school. It was awesome, especially in the Fall when the leaves fell on the gray streets and Bloomsbury Square, and the cold weather practically demanded that you nip into a pub for a pint.
7. The back of The Vault Martini Bar in Redlands, CA. Strange, since I hate every thing else about my hometown and would rather stick needles in my eyes than ever move back. That said, the courtyard of the Fox Building in downtown Hometown played a pivotal role in my early adulthood. While it’s currently the back of The Vault, it had been attached to several cafes in a different part of the building for a million years. The first café to occupy the location and claim the coveted inner courtyard was Fleur de Lis – site of my first real job, where I had my pre-prom pictures taken and countless scenes of debauchery.
8. Berlin – Berlin is awesome! A sprawling metropolis and living museum, I spent the whole of the 90’s living in fear of it – and Germany in general – only passing through on my way to Central Europe. Going to Berlin to study German for grad school showed me what I was missing. It is old and new and beer gardens and art co-ops, I mostly love it because it’s the first place Hubs and I decided to go together though.
9. Budapest – Because it’s awesome. Viennese-style cafes and Catholic churches that were originally mosques. What’s not to love.
10. Vancouver – Not only was it voted the best place to live in the entire world for a million years running, it was where Hubs and I conceived The Boy. The countless cafes made up for the pubs I missed since leaving London, and the its distance from our friends and family was kind of made up for by the views and the affordability.
1. The bedroom I share with my boys and my cat. It's where we start the day, with The Boy calling from his crib, "Up Dada!" And where we end it, with The Boy running around before we bathe him, then climbing into bed while he "reads" his books and we snuggle. The cat settles at the foot of the bed as we put The Boy in his crib, then I actually read him his bedtime stories. Heaven!
2. Prague. I have a picture of the Vltava River, Charles Bridge and Prague Castle as my desktop, so whenever I turn on my laptop The Boy goes, "Pog!" Then when I open up a window and it disappears he goes, "Where's it, Pog?"
Prague and I have an awfully long history together. I first read about it when I was still in high school and it was still in Czechoslovakia. I've lived there a few times, visited countless times and am beyond excited about the prospect of one day taking The Boy there.
3. Paris. I mean, who doesn't love Paris? I was lucky enough to visit a few times when I was young and poor, but I really fell in love when Hubs and I lived in London and I would make an annual trip on Eurostar across the Channel.
And it's not the usual touristy things that I love about Paris, and miss now that I rarely get to go there. I miss being able to sit in cafes for hours, lingering over a teeny tiny cup of coffee without being hassled about leaving. I love sitting on the banks of the Seine during the Summer Solstice festival(Fete de la Musique) and walking the streets of my beloved 9th arrondisement - the slightly dingy district between Montmartre and the Grands Boulevards.
4. San Francisco – It started out as a glittering Bohemian alternative to my dry, suburban Southern Californian childhood and became the place where I met and fell in love with Hubs. I coveted living there when I was a young’un, went clubbing there when I went to university across the Bay and worked in nearly every building in the Financial District while I was temping just out of college.
Along with the myriad places I love in San Francisco – Caffe Trieste in North Beach, the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park, City Lights Bookstore in North Beach and Green Apple Books on Clement Street – I really loved the commute I had to the last job I had there. I took the bus along Union, then it turned onto Columbus, passing the old people doing Tai Chi in Washington Square. We’d then whiz through North Beach before I’d get off on Market.
For a long time I’d hop on Bart to get to my job in Oakland. Starting almost exactly 10 years ago, spooked by the idea of taking the Transbay Tube, I would get myself a bagel and a coffee, hop on a nearly empty ferry and sail east across the Bay watching the sun rise over the Oakland Hills.
5. Berkeley – Where I went to college and the only place I have ever lived on my very own.
6. London – It’s big, it’s crowded, endures occasional riots and I still absolutely love it. Hubs and I lived in West London for years. For one of those years I had to take the Piccadilly Line clear across London to Bloomsbury for grad school. It was awesome, especially in the Fall when the leaves fell on the gray streets and Bloomsbury Square, and the cold weather practically demanded that you nip into a pub for a pint.
7. The back of The Vault Martini Bar in Redlands, CA. Strange, since I hate every thing else about my hometown and would rather stick needles in my eyes than ever move back. That said, the courtyard of the Fox Building in downtown Hometown played a pivotal role in my early adulthood. While it’s currently the back of The Vault, it had been attached to several cafes in a different part of the building for a million years. The first café to occupy the location and claim the coveted inner courtyard was Fleur de Lis – site of my first real job, where I had my pre-prom pictures taken and countless scenes of debauchery.
8. Berlin – Berlin is awesome! A sprawling metropolis and living museum, I spent the whole of the 90’s living in fear of it – and Germany in general – only passing through on my way to Central Europe. Going to Berlin to study German for grad school showed me what I was missing. It is old and new and beer gardens and art co-ops, I mostly love it because it’s the first place Hubs and I decided to go together though.
9. Budapest – Because it’s awesome. Viennese-style cafes and Catholic churches that were originally mosques. What’s not to love.
10. Vancouver – Not only was it voted the best place to live in the entire world for a million years running, it was where Hubs and I conceived The Boy. The countless cafes made up for the pubs I missed since leaving London, and the its distance from our friends and family was kind of made up for by the views and the affordability.
Friday, September 2, 2011
I Am Capable of a Great Many Things
I read a quote by Annette Funicello yesterday. It was, "Life doesn't need to be perfect to be wonderful."
True words. And I'm not just saying that because she's been crippled by the same disease that cripples me, but because she's absolutely correct. Things happen, accidents occur and people get sick, but that doesn't mean we have to ignore all the beautiful, amazing and, yes, wonderful things in life. I mean, I've already been crippled physically by MS, should I let it cripple my psychologically, spiritually and emotionally as well? It's not like being pissed off and angry and living my life like I'm biding my time till there's a cure or I die and am reincarnated as a marathon-running octogenarian is gonna make anything better. It's just gonna waste what I have. And what I have is quite a lot.
I'll Start with The Hubs. He's awesome. We've known each other for 13 years and been together 12 and I still can't get over his awesomeness. Gorgeous, brilliant and funnier than he usually lets on, Hubs has always been amazingly tolerant of my neuroses, malaise and impusivity. He's also proven himself a saint in dealing with my disease. I really, really lucked out with him.
Then there's The Boy. I was never really a kid person before I met him. I held babies awkwardly and cringed when seated next to them on planes or in restaurants. I'd never changed a diaper or even looked after an infant for any amount of time before having him, so deciding to start a family - to bring him into our lives, was a gigantic leap of faith. And it paid off. He's beautiful, smart, sweet and funny. He's also everything a 2 year old is - grumpy, tempestuous and very, very active.
It's that last bit, the active bit, that is really starting to make me even more aware of my disability. He wants to run, I want to sit. He wants a piggy back ride, I want a cuddle. He wants to go for a walk, I have to remain in the back yard and send him out with Hubs.
As sad as that sounds, we're still incredibly lucky. I may not be able to run around with him or hold his hand on long walks, but I can stack blocks with him, roll round on the floor with him, create art with him, practice counting and ABC's with him and I can read to him. I will, in all seriousness, read a half a dozen books 20 times in one day, with all the passion and intensity of James Dean, Marlon Brando or the guy from Blues Clues. My kid can count to 10(minus the 9), say 20 or so letters of the alphabet, say "Please," "thank you," and "bless you" because of me. He's gentle with animals because I've taught him to be so.
So yeah, things may be far from perfect, but I will never be able to get over how wonderful our life is.
True words. And I'm not just saying that because she's been crippled by the same disease that cripples me, but because she's absolutely correct. Things happen, accidents occur and people get sick, but that doesn't mean we have to ignore all the beautiful, amazing and, yes, wonderful things in life. I mean, I've already been crippled physically by MS, should I let it cripple my psychologically, spiritually and emotionally as well? It's not like being pissed off and angry and living my life like I'm biding my time till there's a cure or I die and am reincarnated as a marathon-running octogenarian is gonna make anything better. It's just gonna waste what I have. And what I have is quite a lot.
I'll Start with The Hubs. He's awesome. We've known each other for 13 years and been together 12 and I still can't get over his awesomeness. Gorgeous, brilliant and funnier than he usually lets on, Hubs has always been amazingly tolerant of my neuroses, malaise and impusivity. He's also proven himself a saint in dealing with my disease. I really, really lucked out with him.
Then there's The Boy. I was never really a kid person before I met him. I held babies awkwardly and cringed when seated next to them on planes or in restaurants. I'd never changed a diaper or even looked after an infant for any amount of time before having him, so deciding to start a family - to bring him into our lives, was a gigantic leap of faith. And it paid off. He's beautiful, smart, sweet and funny. He's also everything a 2 year old is - grumpy, tempestuous and very, very active.
It's that last bit, the active bit, that is really starting to make me even more aware of my disability. He wants to run, I want to sit. He wants a piggy back ride, I want a cuddle. He wants to go for a walk, I have to remain in the back yard and send him out with Hubs.
As sad as that sounds, we're still incredibly lucky. I may not be able to run around with him or hold his hand on long walks, but I can stack blocks with him, roll round on the floor with him, create art with him, practice counting and ABC's with him and I can read to him. I will, in all seriousness, read a half a dozen books 20 times in one day, with all the passion and intensity of James Dean, Marlon Brando or the guy from Blues Clues. My kid can count to 10(minus the 9), say 20 or so letters of the alphabet, say "Please," "thank you," and "bless you" because of me. He's gentle with animals because I've taught him to be so.
So yeah, things may be far from perfect, but I will never be able to get over how wonderful our life is.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Big Boy Bedding
The Boy hasn't always been a fan of sleeping. He was an atrocious sleeper as an infant - like, waking once an hour on a good night, atrocious - and is only a moderately good sleeper now. He stays up until 9:30 or 10, fights Hubs putting him down for naps on the weekends and is often prone to sleeping on the floor, standing up or with a limb hanging precariously off the sofa.
So with so much thought about The Boy sleeping as an infant/young toddler, I've been finding it hard to contemplate him sleeping on his own, in a bed in his own room - yes, he still sleeps in our room. It's weird and hippiesh and co-dependent. See above comments on The Boy's sleeping patterns to see why I don't care.
Anyhoo, I've been casually perusing boy bedding for a while, not really caring. Until last week... I never knew I could be so excited by bedding, but I just got The Boy's duvet cover and sheets for his first big boy bed and I think I'm in luuurrrve. Seriously, we're not even ready to turn his crib into toddler bed, so who knows when he'll be ready to sleep in the full-sized bed that's now functioning as our guest bed, but I am so darn pleased with my purchase I can't stand it.
This is what it looks like
The thrift store loving me from 10-15 years go would be cringing. "Why be so effing ostentatious?" I'd say, or "How will he even notice? He doesn't seem to have minded the $10 Winnie the Pooh stuff from Target that he's been sleeping on for the last 2 years. Sellout!"
In my current self's defense, the bedding was on sale.
So with so much thought about The Boy sleeping as an infant/young toddler, I've been finding it hard to contemplate him sleeping on his own, in a bed in his own room - yes, he still sleeps in our room. It's weird and hippiesh and co-dependent. See above comments on The Boy's sleeping patterns to see why I don't care.
Anyhoo, I've been casually perusing boy bedding for a while, not really caring. Until last week... I never knew I could be so excited by bedding, but I just got The Boy's duvet cover and sheets for his first big boy bed and I think I'm in luuurrrve. Seriously, we're not even ready to turn his crib into toddler bed, so who knows when he'll be ready to sleep in the full-sized bed that's now functioning as our guest bed, but I am so darn pleased with my purchase I can't stand it.
This is what it looks like
The thrift store loving me from 10-15 years go would be cringing. "Why be so effing ostentatious?" I'd say, or "How will he even notice? He doesn't seem to have minded the $10 Winnie the Pooh stuff from Target that he's been sleeping on for the last 2 years. Sellout!"
In my current self's defense, the bedding was on sale.
Monday, August 29, 2011
First Hair Cut: A Story in Badly Taken Pictures
It really was time. The Boy is a month passed 2 and has been envious of Hubs' summertime buzz-cut for the past couple of months. And his hair, his sweet smelling, thin, curly cue mop was definitely on the way to us looking like we were making a statement. 
I wasn't ready. I really wasn't ready, but the heat, the humidity and the cow licks were obviously testing The Boy's patience. So we headed out in 106 degree heat to a local kid's barber - don't know what I was thinking about going to Beverly Hills - and got The Boy his first trim.
It was lovely, with cheerful staff greeting The Boy in that sing-song geared specifically for toddlers. We met the nice girl who was assigned the task of cutting his hair - and I was pretty nervous going in that she would end up deaf or hating us if The Boy treated his time at the salon like his time at the pediatrician's.
But he did pretty well. Here's he is looking seriously concerned about what was about to happen.
The pop-up animals did little to calm his nerves so Hubs thought it best to let him sit on his lap. Then the taking of my sweet boys sweet locks commenced.
Look at how much they cut :(
They gave us a little certificate and a bag containing the hair from the first snip, so I guess we marked the occasion as best we could. I'm still kind of sad though. I mean, we would have had to cut it eventually anyway, I just would have preferred it to have happened later rather than sooner. Or later rather than last Saturday.
Here he is, back at home all neatly groomed like a big boy.
So now my sweetness is sleeping next to me, his once downy then straggly hair now nicely trimmed and cool. I guess it does look nice, but I still miss his cow-licks and am not even remotely looking forward to the next big milestone.
I wasn't ready. I really wasn't ready, but the heat, the humidity and the cow licks were obviously testing The Boy's patience. So we headed out in 106 degree heat to a local kid's barber - don't know what I was thinking about going to Beverly Hills - and got The Boy his first trim.
It was lovely, with cheerful staff greeting The Boy in that sing-song geared specifically for toddlers. We met the nice girl who was assigned the task of cutting his hair - and I was pretty nervous going in that she would end up deaf or hating us if The Boy treated his time at the salon like his time at the pediatrician's.
But he did pretty well. Here's he is looking seriously concerned about what was about to happen.
The pop-up animals did little to calm his nerves so Hubs thought it best to let him sit on his lap. Then the taking of my sweet boys sweet locks commenced.
They gave us a little certificate and a bag containing the hair from the first snip, so I guess we marked the occasion as best we could. I'm still kind of sad though. I mean, we would have had to cut it eventually anyway, I just would have preferred it to have happened later rather than sooner. Or later rather than last Saturday.
Here he is, back at home all neatly groomed like a big boy.
So now my sweetness is sleeping next to me, his once downy then straggly hair now nicely trimmed and cool. I guess it does look nice, but I still miss his cow-licks and am not even remotely looking forward to the next big milestone.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Dreaming of Cold Weather
I've only been 3 clothing sizes my whole life - my super skinny late-teen and twenties size 2, the early middle-age spread that bumped me up to a size 6-8 in my early 30's, and my post baby - would still be a size 8 if it wasn't for my fat belly - a size 8-10. And don't hate me, I'm a small-boned 5'1" so hardly skinny binny bitching about not fitting a sample size.
So yeah, shopping for myself isn't nearly as fun as it used to be and I've been clad in nothing but jeans and black tees since Facebook had a The in front of it. Fortunately, or unfortunately for my wallet, I've got The Boy as a means of sartorial expression now, outgrowing perfectly good clothes every few months. I'm not saying he has a huge wardrobe, it's actually quite small, but I have a heck of a lot of fun shopping for his clothes the few times a year that I do it.
Now is just such a time, when the trees are full and green but the back-to-school commercials are cluttering up my TV. It may kind of hard to contemplate Fall or Winter when it's 100 degrees out and our AC is busted, but some recent online sales have led me to do a bit of preemptive shopping. I learned last year that waiting for the weather to cool off before buying sweaters and hats means I end up staring at an 'Out of Stock' label on most of what I want for The Boy.
Anyhoo, here are some of the things that should soon be arriving on our doorstep.
Can't wait! Now I've got to stick my head in the freezer.
So yeah, shopping for myself isn't nearly as fun as it used to be and I've been clad in nothing but jeans and black tees since Facebook had a The in front of it. Fortunately, or unfortunately for my wallet, I've got The Boy as a means of sartorial expression now, outgrowing perfectly good clothes every few months. I'm not saying he has a huge wardrobe, it's actually quite small, but I have a heck of a lot of fun shopping for his clothes the few times a year that I do it.
Now is just such a time, when the trees are full and green but the back-to-school commercials are cluttering up my TV. It may kind of hard to contemplate Fall or Winter when it's 100 degrees out and our AC is busted, but some recent online sales have led me to do a bit of preemptive shopping. I learned last year that waiting for the weather to cool off before buying sweaters and hats means I end up staring at an 'Out of Stock' label on most of what I want for The Boy.
Anyhoo, here are some of the things that should soon be arriving on our doorstep.
Can't wait! Now I've got to stick my head in the freezer.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Book loving
The Boy has a lot of books. Thomas the Tank Engine, Peter Rabbit and Mother Goose chief among them. But we've also got a gigantic library of British books, given to The Boy as presents from his English family. Books that are mostly unknown to American kids and whose words fall off my American tongue awkwardly.
Though the characters may be largely unknown in the US, Hairy Maclary, Bobo, Fix-It Duck, the Gruffalo, Slinky Malinky and Bobo are all much cherished friends in our house.
Here's a pic one of our Hairy Maclary books
We also have "Hairy Maclary and Zachary Quack" and "Slinky Malinky's Catflaps"
And a Duck book
We also have a book called "Yes" by the same author, Jez Alborough.
What was, perhaps, our first book love...
The Gruffalo. Other books from the same author are "Monkey Puzzle" and "Room on the Broom"
And our current fave
Because a book about underpants loving aliens is beyond awesome.
I really need to work on exposing The Boy to stuff that's more common over here so that when he and his buddies start talking about books, or at least characters of books, he has something in common with them. But I am so glad he has these books and these characters in common with his cousins and buddies in England. It means that all but 2 weeks of his early childhood may have been spent in the US, but that a crucial part of his development has been quintessentially British anyway.
Though the characters may be largely unknown in the US, Hairy Maclary, Bobo, Fix-It Duck, the Gruffalo, Slinky Malinky and Bobo are all much cherished friends in our house.
Here's a pic one of our Hairy Maclary books
And a Duck book
What was, perhaps, our first book love...
And our current fave
I really need to work on exposing The Boy to stuff that's more common over here so that when he and his buddies start talking about books, or at least characters of books, he has something in common with them. But I am so glad he has these books and these characters in common with his cousins and buddies in England. It means that all but 2 weeks of his early childhood may have been spent in the US, but that a crucial part of his development has been quintessentially British anyway.
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