Commissioned Art

My neighbor, good friend, and mother of two boys under age four, walked into my house several weeks ago and muttered, "You have art now?" As if to say that I've upped the ante somehow in our pointless quest to live in houses out of the pages of Martha Stewart and Potterybarn. And if I really had spent the boys' non-existent college fund on a high fallutin painting that didn't mean anything other than to say, "I HAVE ART," then maybe the comment would have made me feel guilty.

But no, I took it as a huge complement, because the painting in my entryway (and the one pictured below) were painted by my talented friend and kindred spirit June Steckler. She made it just for me, for my house. And if it screams I've arrived, so be it. Because I have. Not to some Silicon Valley idealized sense of success, but to this space of my life. It hasn't been pretty, but having survived the first three years of motherhood, a remodel, a second child, and life with a husband, I really can't say it better than this line from my favorite poem:

This is the bright home
in which I live,
this is where
I ask
my friends
to come,
this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long
to learn to love.

--David Whyte, The House of Belonging

So thank you, thank you June for making my home more complete with your beautiful art--my house of belonging. I look at it everyday and see the divine in you.

Asian Restaurants

Here's a tip for eating out with a baby and a toddler: go Asian. For some reason, they looooooove babies and babies like them. Last week after my dental work, we ventured downtown and tried a new place for Pho (Vietnamese soup). The food was just okay, but the service was AWESOME. Our waitress kept flirting with JB and then asked to hold him. Before no time he was being entertained by the entire restaurant staff and then I saw his bobbing head go happily into the kitchen! (I NEVER would have let that happen with my first, BTW). Meanwhile, we ate in peace (well that's relative since we still had Ry-Ry at the table, but at least I didn't have to juggle a baby and hot soup). Tonight we went to our local Chinese restaurant which was fasinating to Ry since we've been watching the Olympic diving competitions and Ry likes the Chinese becuase they're so perfect...but I digress...the point is that again, D and I were able to eat sans baby-in-lap AGAIN! JB ended up getting whisked out of his stroller and being passed around the wait staff. At one point, Ry looks up from his chow mein and says, "Where Jackie going?" Anyway, good food, good service, good times all around.

3-year-old bash

My inner hair critic is telling me not to post this photo (not "digging" the hard-hat hair), but the inner child said: DO IT. I gave the jumpy house a try after most of the party guests left last night. I have to admit, it's pretty darn fun. As was the whole party. Nothing like bounces and beer.

All week I kept wondering what I had gotten myself into when evite sent me the guest list update: 15 kids, 30 adults. I had a few panic attacks in between June Cleavering the house and riding herd on the fence guys (more on that later, but we fenced in the front yard prior to the party). As stress piled up I kept muttering, we'll never do this again. And several family and friends mused the same thing, "We had a party like that....once." But post party, I'm already planning JB's first--8 months away!

Seriously, it was super fun. And not one meltdown from Ry-Ry. The kid parties like a champ. He's all bruised and scabbed today (must have taken some dives in that jumper), but I never heard him cry or complain during the party, which is pretty incredible considering he ate no pizza in lieu of four green sno-cones and bubble gum ice cream cake.

Pretty much we had the party that I'm judgemental of other people having: bouncy house, sno-cone machine. I stopped short of hiring a face painter and balloon guy (hmmm maybe next year???). But, now that I have a three-year-old, I'm starting to get why people do these things for their kids. I find that my sense of wonder and play keeps getting stronger with every new thing Ry-Ry experiences or discovers. He gets such joy and satisfaction out of the littlest things, it's hard not to feed that. So I see I have many years ahead of trying to keep things in moderation. But right now, I'm really enjoying connecting with my inner child again.

Happy Birthday Ry Ry!

A NASCAR Birthday from Big Sky on Vimeo.

My now 3-year-old is scarily NASCAR obsessed and brand-aware as you'll see him naming drivers and sponsors in this clip. That being said, how refreshing it is to see his day made by a few $5 items. In case you can't speak Ry-ese, after tossing his Cars watch aside, he labels the NASCARs in this order: Jeff Gordon, 'Gas Station', Kasey Kayne, FedEx, Kyle Busch, and Cheerios. The perfect ending to a fun-filled day at the beach. I'm so grateful that this little firecracker is in my life. Love you, Ry, Ry.

Wordless Wednesday: Car Wash

Good Times

Honestly life with a 3-year-old, a 3-month-old, a sick cat, and a husband isn't that fun a lot of the time. Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't trade this for any past period of my life (except maybe our honeymoon in Tahiti or when I weighed 115 pounds in high school). Most days are much of the same--living on no sleep, disposing of poop, dolling out goldfish, triping on NASCARs, and a lot of swiffering. But sprinkled in the mire are golden moments that do seem to make it all worthwhile. And I'm so thankful that D is recording them. Check out JB cracking up. It'll totally make your day.

Makes me smile on the inside

In the words of Jesse from this season's Bachelorette, this picture makes me "smile on the inside." Took it in Carpinteria while we there for my nephew's wedding. Doesn't he just look like an absolute angel? Not the kind of kid that would kick a cat or anything like that.

And you wonder why the cat acts out.

Kick the Cat
Originally uploaded by Big Sky

Take a look at this video and you probably wouldn't be surprised to hear that we've been having problems with the cat peeing in the house. Being terrorized by a 3-year-old and ousted out of mama's lap once again by a newborn, can lead to some anger issues. But before giving the kids away, we marched Mulligan down to the vet to make sure he didn't have a bladder infection--the other leading cause of indiscriminate urination. And what do you know, the poor guy has one. So now that we have have to squirt amoxicillin down his throat twice a day, he's taken to puking in the house, too. We found like 10 puddles of it last night. Seriously, the whole thing is pretty gross. We're calling the vet tomorrow again to see if there's another medication to try, but the truth is, I'm grateful it's a bladder infection. Hopefully, that'll go away because, unfortunately, the baby and the preschooler are not. If all else fails, I hear there's kitty Prozac.

Firework PJs

Wordless Wednesday: Dancing King

This too, shall pass

This probably falls in the category of TMI, but so it goes . . . I've been battling mastitis since last Tuesday, which to say bluntly, is a boob infection. And, it seems like I've been saying this with each infliction of late, but seriously, sickest I've ever felt. As I lay in bed, teeth chattering, head exploding, body aching, boob on fire, I wondered who would help D take care of the kids when I was dead and gone. And at that moment, I was not in favor of picking my sister in Idaho who laughed out loud when I told her what I had. When I said it was no laughing matter, she says, "I know, it's just that all I can think about are all the old ewes I've seen with it" (she married a sheep rancher). Thanks for comparing me to a ewe, sis. I was also not in favor of asking my mother who called to check on my "mastectomy." Thank goodness it's treatable with a good dose of antibiotics and that won't be necessary, thank you very much. Anyway, on the mend now, and thankfully I won't have to make that decision anytime soon.

NASCAR

Yesterday was Sunday and you know what that means: NASCAR. And if you didn't know that, then you're either A) not a redneck or b) not the mom of an almost 3-year-old boy. And who says TV isn't educational? Thanks to NASCAR, Ry knows A) how to do a pit stop (and is driving us up the wall taking all the tires off his cars), and B) what is the appropriate response when you win the race: stand on top of your car and gloat.

Father's Day

I took this photo of the three major men in my life a couple weeks ago, and today we celebrated Father's Day much like this: at home, in and out of the kiddie pool, watching NASCAR and the US Open. Now that I have two boys, I'm realizing that there's a lot of sports and cars in my future. Sad that for a fleeting moment I was tempted to drag my 2-month-old to the NASCAR race in Sonoma next weekend. It's just that it would be absolute nirvana for Ry and what mom doesn't want to indulge that? Did I mention his obsession with Kyle Busch, which is really just about his M&M's car. But I digress...

As I reflect on Father's Day, I'm thinking that my own father probably prepared me the best to be the mother of boys. Although he only has one son of his own and five daughters, he never for a second let me believe I couldn't do anything a man could do--whether it was riding motorcycles, shooting guns, running a business, or studying engineering (much to his disappointment, I was the more liberal arts type). Growing up in a small town, my dad kind of raised the bar on what I expected from men. They had to be manly (like live off the land with only a Swiss Army knife) but be intellectual, too (reading the latest autobiography of the next president).

So it's probably no surprise that it took me awhile to figure out if I wanted a to marry a city boy or a country boy until I found D, who has some elements of both. Although he isn't the hunting type, he loves the great outdoors, pretty much every sport, and is well read. He can also weild a whisk and a saucepan like nobody's business. All the elements of a great dad. So thanks honey for being such a good dad now and how great you'll be in the years to come. And thanks Dad, for being a good role model so that I picked myself a good man.

Wordless Wednesday: Pool Ball

Off the charts

It's official, JB is a pig. After weighing and measuring him this morning, the nurse goes to write down his accomplishments. She's very matter of fact: "head circumference: 90 percent, height: 90 percent, weight....uh....well...off the chart." When I relayed all this to D later, he says,"well, what does that mean?" I'm all, "what do you mean, what does that mean? He's fat, okay? F-A-T, fat." D repies, "Well I just don't understand off the chart, like he's the fattest baby ever?" Well...I highly doubt that (haven't there been some 17 pounders delivered lately?), but at 15 lbs, 4 oz at two months, he'll be kicking his big bro's ass in no time. I asked the doctor if I should be concerned with his weight and she said that I should just be grateful I have a baby that is doing so well. I think in fact, she used the word "flourishing," which is probably a nice way of saying "fat and happy."

Wordless Wednesday: Fat Baby Feet

Inspired by Trua.

Oeuf Baby Lounger

A couple weeks back, we received the Oeuf Baby Lounger as a gift. When I first opened it, I was a little overwhelmed and even perturbed that I would have to: 1) put it together and, 2) find a place for it in my house. My sister, visiting at the time, was aghast at how grumbly and ungrateful I was being (as I mentioned before, lack of sleep mimics mental illness). Turns out it was the best baby gift--EVER. I love this chair. I had already put our Combi-rocker-thing in the garage because I kept tripping over it and JB would only sit there for about 30 seconds anyway. But the Oeuf Lounger we all love. It's lightweight enough to easily move from room to room; JB doesn't sweat in it like he does in his car seat or swing; and it bounces like a dream--it's like the Dutailier for babies. JB will stay in that thing longer than any other baby contraption. Not to mention, it matches the color scheme of our house:) The only problem is, JB, at two months, is already near the 18 lbs weight limit. Can that be right? As one of the preschool moms noted, I must have "Haagen Dazs milk."

On a side note, do you see Ry's follow-through on that shot he's making in the background? That comes from his mother:)

Cat food is tested by humans

I told my cat food story to friend at the park today. She told that when she was a kid she wrote a letter to the cat food company asking them to make mouse flavored cat food. They wrote back and said that wasn't possible because the food is tested by humans. So, there you have it, folks, cat food can't be all that bad. Anyway, I'm still laughing at that story tonight. Just as good if not better than my cathouse story. I'm still curious, though, who does taste pet food? Turns out Simon Allision does: "Sniffing the product a bit like a professional wine taster, he said: 'It has the taste and aroma of chicken and some of what you call the red flavours - things like heart and liver; gutsy, savoury notes. Then you get a mealy, green pea, pulse aroma and occasionally a sweeter note from the carrot.'"

8 lbs and a Good Man

I came down with the stomach flu, excuse me, gastroenteritis, last Sunday. On day four of wanting to go straight to hell rather than living on this earth for a minute longer, I called the doctor, who's nurse said causally that it was "going around" and to call if I'm not better in EIGHT DAYS. Eight days? Hello? I guess I'm calling tomorrow. All of my bad memories of being sick involve the stomach flu (or some kind of "stomach malaise"), but this one tops the list with a two-month-old breastfeeding baby and a 2.75 year old obsessed with toilet habits (although not his own, unfortunately). The only good that has come of this is that I've dropped another 8 lbs. I'm actually under my pre-pregnancy weight, but frankly I'd rather keep the fat than go through this. Truly, I'm still not 100%. The other thing I must say, is how grateful I am yet again that I have a Generation X husband, who's been picking up all the slack around the house and with the kids. And, who still loves me, I think...through sickness and health.

Custom Soap

This isn't the best picture, but see that blue and brown soap in the blue trough in the background? That's the soap my sister made to match my retro bathroom. How cool is that? This picture is from a "soap party" I hosted back in Februrary...back when I only had one kid...probably one of the last parties I'll host in a loooooooong time. But I digress...the point is I HAVE CUSTOM SOAP THAT MATCHES MY BATHROOM. Do I sound high falutin? I hope so. I'm so proud of my soap and my sister for starting her business. Anyway, if you'd like some of her creations for your own, check out lavande de bois.

Hallelujah

Not sure what I'm going to do with my time now that American Idol is over again. Oh yah, I have a newborn and a preschooler....that should kill a few hours. Seriously, during this time of our lives being turned inside out, probably the only thing we try to make time for is American Idol. And yah, we weren't as passionate this season as we have been in the past, but even so, I'm still grateful for this show for bringing music into my life. It exposes me to new things, encouraging me to turn off Raffi now and then and to listen to something for myself.

One of the songs I was touched by this season was Hallelujah sung by Jason Castro. I'm embarrassed to say that I had never heard it before--actually I'm sure that I've heard it, I just didn't remember--it's on the Shrek soundtrack for goodness sake, and apparently several artists (k.d. lang, Willie Nelson just to name a few) have done covers of it. Although written and released by Leonard Cohen in 1984, I checked out the Jeff Buckley version per Simon Cowell, and was not disappointed. I have since bought the whole album, and it's bittersweet to find someone new who's already dead. Why is it so many great artists walk this earth only a short time?

Anyway...Hallelujah for music.

Wordless Wednesday: Story Time

Pizza, He Eats

For those of you who think the lack of sleep is starting to get to me (my Dr. says sleep deprivation can mimic mental illness), and that I've really resorted to letting my picky eater live on cat food (which when you think about it, would be pretty darn convenient), here's proof from tonight's dinner at Giorgios that he does, in fact, occasionally eat.

Taste Test

Like most any other preschooler, Ry eats about four foods: mac and cheese, pizza, strawberries, and Goldfish. This evening, as I was mixing our propriety blend of regular cat food, diet cat food and hairball cat food, Ry decided to venture outside his comfort zone and wanted to try some. After a lengthy debate on why cat food is for cats, we finally just caved and decided to let him decide whether or not he liked it. Turns out, he and Mulligan have the same taste--he likes the regular, but didn't care for the hairball formula. It's not chicken or vegetables, but I guess I should be grateful he's trying new things.

Six-week Smiles

A few shots that make it all worthwhile...

60 hours

Don't let the happy photo fool you. It took 600 mg of ibuprofen, a Vicoden, and a cup of coffee to leave the house last Sunday. This was my first outing since JB was born and we were out less then two hours but it was almost too much. All I can say is that I now have more empathy and compassion for people addicted to pain killers. It'll be four weeks tomorrow since my c-section, so you'd think I'd be completely off them by now. I'm trying. Hard. I just went 60 hours without taking one, but I thought about it--a lot. With a baby and a preschooler it's not like you can lay around in bed sleeping and icing and heating, so you find yourself saying, "I'll just take one more so I can get through the morning." As someone who has struggled for 20 out of my 34 years with chronic pain, it's easy to see how it can be habit forming. It's nice to take away the pain by swallowing a pill.

But unlike the celebrities you hear about, I'm not on my way to becoming an oxycodone addict. Why? Well...mainly because I have the love, support, and resources from a amazing community of friends and family who I appreciate so dearly: First and foremost is my mom. Who watched Ry for five days while we were in the hospital and is now back for 10 days. My in-laws, who were here briefly, but took Ry overnight in a hotel, which might sound like no big deal, but really is huge to have the house void of his energy even if just for one night. Our generous friends and neighbors bringing us nourishing food and reassuring us that "they are there." Moms from preschool who always ask how I'm doing and offer to drive Ry to school or take him on a play date. My chiropractor, who always gets me in and spends extra time working my back. My Generation X husband who, unlike the men of my father's generation, takes paternity leave, cooks, cleans, and braved a Sharks hockey game with 2.5 year-old. And, Even Ry showed his concern for me yesterday when I came back from the chiropractor, "Your back fixed mommy?"

So thank you--everyone--I couldn't do it without you.

Big Bro

Here's a few snapshots of Ry adjusting to being a big brother. While being incredibly sweet to JB, he's started talking back: "No, Mommy, you do it," which just makes me feel old, frankly to have a child old enough to talk back.


This early morning cuddle with his baby makes my heart melt.



Ry and his very "chill" little brother the day we came home from the hospital.



All this big brothering (or is that bothering?) is tiresome.

JB

So not all went as planned on Thursday and we ended up with an emergency c-section. I've had a wide range of emotions the last couple days, mainly joy, but also much gratitude for modern medicine and the kind people who practice it that helped bring our JB safely into the world and to assist both of us in recovery from the trauma. I'll have more to say later, but right now am giving in to the delirous state of sleep deprivation and pain meds...

Hmmm...let's see...how about April 3?

To all you sitting on pins and needles waiting for me to blog again: BACK OFF. Just kidding. It's nice to know that people enjoy reading my ramblings, it's just that this last month of pregnancy has been particularly trying. I've planned many posts in my head, but never seem to find the time or energy between all the nesting projects, heavy breathing, Braxton Hicks, microwaving my heat pad, and constant demands of King Ry-Ry (that's what his name means, "little king"...we'll be more careful this time:). So instead of promising an entire post on the amazing baby blessing my friends hosted (this image is from that--the knots on the basket symbolize prayers), the jacked up mini-van of my dreams, the RV with parental units inside now parked in front of my house, or the crazy nanny search, I'll just have to say, well, maybe, hopefully later.

Right now onto the topic at hand: we're going to be induced this Thursday. Checking into the hospital at 3 am. (That's pretty rude timing, don't you think?) When I gave my OBGYN the stink eye, she just gave it right back and said, "well...you could go into labor in the middle of the night, what's the difference?" I guess maybe I should be comforted by the fact that by the time the she shows up to "catch the baby," SHE'LL have had breakfast and coffee. And to all you people out there judging me on this induction decision (i.e. mother): BACK OFF (and this would be good post fodder, too). But, do stay tuned, I'll have Dear Husband/Doting Father post photos as soon as feasibly possible.

Thanks for all your kind thoughts, words, support, and prayers.

Parenting Education

I guess I've been taking the parent education part of my son's co-op preschool for granted. As a busy mom, it's hard to find the time and energy to attend two parent education meetings each month as a requirement of preschool. But every time I attend a meeting, I leave encouraged and inspired to be a better parent, which is precisely what I need when I'm feeling the depletion of motherhood.

Yes, the classes provide insightful information and new perspectives on parenting, but to me, the value is the environment parent education classes create--a place where parents are encouraged and supported in being conscious on how they parent, which is a good thing for my kid, the other kids at my son's preschool, and for our society at large. As my son's teacher put it, with parenting education, we'll be spending less money and time on remedial programs down the road.

So it's disappointing that the Metropolitan Adult Education Program has recently announced plans to close its entire Parent Education Program. This will significantly affect the funding and potentially the quality of not just my son's preschool, but also five other local co-op preschools. Now these schools will be left to decide whether to:

--Cut the program, which really would affect the school quality since in a co-op setting, parents are essentially part of the teaching team; not providing them with education resources would be like sending a teacher in a classroom without training; or
--Keep the parent education program and increase tuition, which is also an unfortunate choice, since that could potentially price families out of affordable preschool options.

I understand that budget cuts are a fact of life these days and this is ultimately coming from the State of California, but something tells me there's a misplaced value judgment going on when parent education gets the ax, but belly dancing doesn't. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy a belly dancing class—that’s a skill I have yet to aquire—but having the resources to help me raise a well-adjusted kid might do everyone a little more good.

If you live locally and want to voice your opinion on this issue, attend the MAEP board meeting on March 12, 7 pm, 760 Hillsdale, Ave., San Jose.

You can also sign an online petition here.