Levedy

Aww, crap

Barbara (Athena's soon-to-be mother-in-law) sent Athena her (Athena's) finished wedding dress and baby Earen's baptismal and wedding outfits. Earen's baptismal outfit was made from pieces of Barbara's own wedding dress. Barbara has been sewing feverishly for over a month to make sure that everything was done in time for the wedding and baptism.

UPS delivered the package, and then some asshole stole it from the porch.

I hope the little creep who pooched the whole deal gets crabs. I hope he realizes that, while nothing in the box had significant monetary value, the contents have quite a lot of emotional value. If he had any decency he'd put the box back on the porch in the dead of night.

Stupid Crap for Crap.

4 Months

Bean-

Yesterday you turned four months old. Your bemused smoker’s hack has been replaced with tinkling giggles and shrieks of gut-busting laughter. The entire world amuses you. Just about anything makes you laugh. The one exception is your dad’s burping: that terrifies you and makes you cry, well, like a baby.

You’ve decided this month that remaining horizontal is for babies. For citified, mature girls like you, sitting and standing are the only way to go. You still have to wait for your muscles to catch up to your demands, but why worry about abdominal muscles supporting your weight when mommy and daddy are there to prop you up for an hour at a time, right?

More than anything, you love to have us help pull you from a lying to a standing position. You shriek with laughter as if mama just gave you 100 puppies. You look like a hula dancer as you wobble, but your peals of laughter make up for it. I never realized that standing was quite so funny, but there you go.

Some days you lose the battle for consciousness, and, against your better judgment and Herculean efforts, you collapse into sleep. I pick you up and carry you to your crib, and I relish the total lack of muscle tension in your body. You body melts into mine with no resistance whatsoever. You are as limp as a human being can be while still alive. No one, not even my husband, relaxes quite so much against my body. I savor it each time it happens, because I know that when you are eleven you will refuse to be seen in public with me and physical contact will be a no-go.

I have finally managed to trim your fingernails without drawing blood (either yours or mine.) For a while, I would put up with scratches all over my torso and your face because I broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about how I would accidentally nip off a chunk of your thumb…again. If later we discover that you can stick your thumb into boiling water without feeling a thing, it will be my fault. I can count the times that you woke up screaming bloody murder at the top of your lungs to find me hovering over you with nail clippers and a look of abject failure on my face. I keep telling you that you can run away to Disneyland and Cinderella can be your mommy. In the meantime, you are welcome to use me as a whetstone until I perfect the manicure process.

You became interested in television this month. I was watching The Colbert Report with you in my lap and you were fascinated by Stephen Colbert. You smiled and gurgled through his show. I played a Baby Einstein DVD that someone had given me, and you lost interest immediately. I was fascinated by the hand puppets, tinkling music, and moving lights, but you would have none of it. It was Colbert or nothing.

You love the act of flipping over onto your stomach but you hate the feeling of actually remaining on your tummy. The books say that babies your age have a seven second memory. That explains a lot, since it takes you about nine seconds to flip over. No wonder you look at first surprised and then upset each time you flip over. You’re doing it for the first time each time.

I like the idea that you experience things fresh every time you do them. When you’re old like me everything will seem dull and repetitive. So for now, enjoy the wild rush of excitement every time you turn over, the sweet release of letting mommy carry you to bed, and the constant wonder and amusement at the ridiculousness of life around you.

I love you Bean,

Mama

Mommy Wars Hit the Homefront

I finally experienced a bit of the Mommy Wars. This Saturday, I attended a pastry class at a local cooking school. The chef mentioned that I was looking really tired, and I said that I had a new baby at home, and I was exhausted, but happy to be out of the house.

One of the students, a woman in her fifties, came up to me later and asked how old my baby was. I told her that Bean was three months and change, and she screwed up her face and said “That old? I thought that you said you weren’t getting any sleep” And walked off.

Whatever, lady. Sleepwalk a mile in my shoes. But it didn’t end there.

Later on, she slithered back up to me and said “You know, I couldn’t be like you stay-at-home moms. I mean, I really need to feel like I’m accomplishing things, you know, actually doing something with my time.”

Too bad it was a pastry class. I could have really accomplished something with a cast iron skillet right about then.

Better than expected

Friday I had three other couples and their babies over for dinner.

The dinner party went off with only one hitch: I was rushed and didn't have time to mop the floors before everyone came. There was a little oil on the floor from cooking, and, since everyone always ends up in the kitchen, I now have oily shoe tracks all over. No worries, it's nothing a little Mr. Clean can't handle, it was just a little embarassing.

So, the food was:

Appetizers:
Asparagus and swiss cheese wrapped in puff pastry
Dolmades (which few people ate, leaving me with dolmades for breakfast...mmmmm)
Bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with hot sausage - I only had one, but it was GOOOOD - the sweet of the date with the yummy salt of the bacon, and pork fat from the bacon and sausage, mmmmmm.

Dinner
Chicken Athena - made with white wine instead of ouzo. I didn't want to scare the straights with licorice-flavored chicken
Orzo Salad with scallions, bell peppers, olives, capers, and feta
Heirloom tomato terrine with goat cheese cream

Dessert
Vanilla panna cotta

The food was good, the company was good, and the babies were well-behaved. I think I'll do it again.

Problem solved

My mother-in-law found me twelve good dates for Friday night; at Albertson's, no less.

I guess it's true: ladies can find good dates at the grocery store.

Looking for hot dates in Las Vegas

I'm looking at you, Susan -

Actually, I need dried figs, not men. I'm having a dinner party on Friday and I'm serving an appetizer featuring dates.

I looked at Whole Foods Paycheck, and at a Mediterranean market. They each had prunes, but no dates.

Susan, you're a foodie. Can I get away with using prunes instead of dates? Or do you know where I can find a date for Friday night?

Shark Reef

Nicole and I took Bean and Dax to the Mandalay Bay Shark Reef. Dax raced from one end of the reef to the other signing FISH! FISH! FISH! the whole time. It was very cute.

Our Lady of Perpetual Stroller
Dax at Reef*

*Nicole's son is very handsome, and isn't quite so pixellated in real life. I just posted this before I asked her permission to show her kid online.

Rear View

Bean sleeping while Nicole and I drive:

(click for larger)

Mugshot

Jen Gets an F In Nursing

So I called the company from which I order my nursing bras...

dum dum DUUUUM.....

I will now sport an F cup. It's a nursing bra, so it's an F cup - with escape hatches!

Beyond Thunderdomes

I have to face reality: my boobs got bigger.

How is this even possible? I thought infinity plus one was still infinity.

*sigh* I don't even know what comes after DD.