Our little world

I sang "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" to Mo yesterday. At the end she said, "Waterspout scary." I asked her, "Why is the waterspout scary?" She said, "Spider on it." Makes perfect sense.



She knows the words to songs but won't sing them outright. Although I can play fill-in-the-blanks with her. I sing, "Twinkle twinkle little...," and she sings, "Star!" And so on.



We have been eating dinner on the deck. This reminds me of when I was little. We ate outside or on the screened porch as often as we could. And the sweet corn this summer is out of this world good.



The painter is starting work on the basement this morning. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Playing catchup

I'm not sure where to start. Let's see. I took Mo to see Juan's paintings in DC in May. She liked riding the subway. We went on our vacation in June which included trips to the beach, the zoo, the aquarium, the MD grandparents, and then on to Pittsburgh. At the end of June we saw two lovely friends marry in a downpour of rain--5 inches that day. We came home from the wedding and found a fully flooded basement. Meanwhile all got bad colds in succession. First me, then Mo, and Robb's became walking pneumonia. During the sickies we had more record-setting rain followed by record-setting heat. Mo and I went dog-sitting at Mom's for a week and decided it was a good time to get serious about potty training. Results have been mixed. This week we finally rejoined the land of the living and saw some friends. Work on the basement should start in about 10 days. Luckily it was all covered by our homeowner's insurance. Maybe by the end of August we'll be getting back to normal. Hope your summer is going well!

It's been a good week

Stickers and M&M's all around!

A week in the life of Mo

Our new library has been open for 2 weeks. It has a terrific children's section complete with a massive bead maze, play kitchen, bins full of toys, comfy chairs, and of course books. We have been there several times now. Last week saw temps around 90, so Mo and I hit the playground early before the slides got too hot. She's becoming a very proficient climber. Our bananas browned on the counter before we ate them all, so we baked banana bread together. Jessie joined us for Jefferson Patterson Park's annual Children's Day on the Farm. We became members of BCNES and have been to the Battle Creek Nature Center twice this week. Just when we were getting used to the distant whir of bug-song the cicadas are starting to die off. And as you can see from the last three photos Mo is very into wearing flowers, smelling flowers, and picking flowers these days.

I was glad that last Friday was Mo's last day of school at the Judy Center. -- She goes for 1 hour one day a week during the school year. The program and staff are great. And I think Mo enjoys the program. But I still feel really conflicted about the concept of "school readiness" for a 2 year old. (For example, consider Sweden.) It's sort of the same sick feeling I get when I see commercials for online early learning academies. Classrooms and screen-time do not seem age-appropriate venues. -- Regardless, I was happy that school let out and looking forward to the summer being a less structured time of play and cooking and hiking and trips to the zoo and swimming and ice cream and library books.

I have a mommy-friend who is a real planner, though. While I want to be polite and not tread on her toes, I am learning to say no to her well-intentioned machinations. No, we're not enrolling Mo in xyz. She will not be an over-scheduled kid. The sanctity of the summer will be preserved.

That said, our vacation begins when I get off work Saturday afternoon. We canceled our trip to Niagara Falls and Toronto because we need a new heat pump this year. At first I was really down in the dumps about it. But then we altered our plans to fit the tight budget, a cheap-cation if you will, and it's going to be a more comfortable and relaxing 10 days. On agenda are swimming, fishing, a visit to the zoo, time with grandparents, and a trip to Pittsburgh. Should be really fun!

Roid rage

This just in: The Sky Is Not Falling.

In other news: Scientists Make Amazing Discoveries About the Power of Hormones Over Perception.

Most of my recent doom and gloom was due to my thyroid being out of balance. That's not to say that the past year hasn't been chock full of bad news and challenges, but I think most years are full of bad news and challenges. It's just when my thyroid dips it feels like all the disappointments are closing in on me. So when Sukey went in for surgery I convinced myself that she was going to die on the operating table (even though I know how extremely rare that is because I work at the vet's office). And when I went to the dermatologist to get treatment for what turned out to be eczema, I convinced myself that it was most likely cancer and imagined Robb raising Mo as a single parent.

I'm not usually an "assume the worst" kind of person. I should have known that it was my thyroid knocking me for a loop this summer. And why, pray tell, was my thyroid messed up? For that answer I turn to Martha Stewart.

Seriously.

I picked up the September issue of Martha Stewart Living because it was the home edition. Well, the home featured was totally underwhelming. It was clinical and cold like a hospital waiting room. If that's what counts for luxury and good design these days, no thanks. I would choose my own yardsale-Ikea-antique chic any day. But near the back of the magazine was an article about thyroid disease by Francesca Castagnoli. Basic info until I hit this passage:  

"While the U.S. Food and Drug Administration is trying to enforce stricter guidelines, hormone levels fluctuate from drug to drug, and switching can have dramatic results. 'If you're stable on one brand and change to another, even at the same dose, they're not exactly compatible, and you'll feel the difference,' [endocrinologist Dr. Betul] Hatipoglu says."

Wait a minute... When I had my prescription filled in June the pills were an oblong shape, but every other time they have been round. I spoke to my pharmacist, and we discovered that the problem was a change in manufacturer. Same generic drug, same dose, different maker = crazytown.

Inconsistency in medications was not an issue that my doctor was aware of--or at least it's not something he asked me about. In fact he didn't ask me much of anything. He told me that all of the symptoms I've been having are "normal" and not to worry about it. My hair falling out by the handful, my consumption of a half a pot (or more) of coffee a day, my weight gain, my knee pain, my sensitivity to cold in the middle of a heatwave, my feeling like Eeyore...I disagree. That is not a quality of life I'm prepared to describe as "normal."

Breaking news: Barb Looks for New Doctor!

Bleh

The past 12 months have been hard. Like really hard. There have been disappointments and illnesses and deaths and setbacks and financial messes and so much teething. It's been so crappy even the dog got cancer. And every time I sit down to write a blog update all I can think to write is: poop! This week I was advised that a whole new can of bleh is going to open up on me in the next month. Seriously? It's like getting surprised at milepost 23 with news that the rest of the marathon will be uphill. If banging my head on this desk would make things better, then I'd be golden. As it is I'm not sure what we're going to do next in life. But I do know what I'm going to do next in blog, and that is post some recent photos of Mo. I took these Monday night right before my old camera bit the dust. RIP Olympus FE-230. You served us well, old friend.

Portrait of the artist as a refugee

This week was E. Vent. Ful.

First, you heard about the earthquake, right? A 5.8 in Virginia last Tuesday. I was standing in the kitchen shaking my fist at what I thought was a convoy of construction trucks driving by our house because they have an uncanny way of knowing exactly when Maureen is napping. But then the noise changed and sounded like a very strong gust of wind except when I looked outside it wasn't windy. The grandfather clock started chiming loudly, the way it does when you walk past it too heavily. And the lantern hanging over the sink began to swing back and forth. My stomach went all queasy, and I realized we were having an earthquake. Mo slept through it. Robb was sitting at his desk on the boat, but it sloshed the water in the creek and shook the floating dock enough to bounce him around in his chair.

Second, NOAA sent Robb out of town Thursday to help with the hurricane response in Norfolk. Making new surveys of ports after natural disasters is part of his job description. He simply had not been called upon to respond in an emergency until now. Whoosh, off he went. That same day there was an aftershock of 4.5.

Third, without my usual childcare provider--Robb--I was unable to go to work on Friday and Saturday.

Fourth, I panicked about being home alone with a baby and a dog in a hurricane. So I packed up my show and went on the road to Mom's house where I would be safe from the long soggy arm of the storm. They were calling for 8 inches of rain at my house. Walking the dog in that nonsense is bad enough because Sukey refuses to relieve herself in inclement weather but begs to go out constantly, but trying to do it with Maureen in tow in a monsoon... I don't even want to figure that out. Mom has a fenced yard. Problem solved.

Fifth, Mo and I had a nice visit with Aunt Julie on Friday morning. Coastal Hospice ordered all of its patients to evacuate the Ocean City area well in advance of the storm. She and Uncle Rich came to stay at Paul's house. She looks astonishingly like a Brigham. That is to say she has my great-grandfather's thinness and sharp features and nearly has the height. Since I was little Julie always had more meat on her bones, and she resembled the Bealls more. But now she looks like Sissy except very tired. She was glad to see Maureen. And I was glad to see her glad.

Sixth, I fell on the stairs a Mom's house on Saturday afternoon. Mo was in my arms, and I missed the last step. I've walked up and down those stairs about five billions times in my life, so why would I now miscalculate the number of steps to the bottom? That information is a muscle memory. It's like knowing when to kneel, sit, and stand in a Catholic worship service. It's practically hardwired into my DNA. In the split second before my foot turned under and was crushed under the combined 200 pounds of us, I thought, That wasn't the last step, and then we tumbled down onto the tile. I managed to tuck the baby in like a little football. She was startled by the impact but not hurt. Thank goodness. We went to the emergency room, I had x-rays, and the doctor told me I broke my foot. A nurse splinted it and sent me home with crutches. The baby was an angel for the three hours we spent at the hospital. We all went home in the pouring rain.

Seventh, the hurricane cometh. No damage at Mom's house. And around 10pm we heard a large tree go over, but it was in the woods and didn't hurt anything. We lost phone, internet, and tv in one of the surges. Robb's parents in Howard County lost power, as did George and Chere near Baltimore. At our house at Fig Point a rain gutter came loose. But other nearby neighborhoods in Southern Maryland did not fare so well. Lots of trees fell on houses. A swath of Maryland from St. Mary's, Calvert, Anne Arundel, and Baltimore Counties is still in the dark. Including our house where electricity is not expected to be restored until Friday. Robb is sailing home tomorrow to take stock of the situation at the house. Mo and I and Sukey will remain here until we have electric again.

Eighth, I had a freezer full of pumped breast milk. A three week supply. It was my insurance policy against illness, injury, and intoxication. Gone. Justlikethat. I need to stop thinking about it now because I might start blubbering on Mom's laptop.

Ninth, I went to see an ortho on Monday. The ER doctor mis-read my x-rays. My foot is not broken. Halelujah! I have a sprain and a walking boot and no crutches!

Tenth, this week Maureen sprouted two front bottom teeth. One day nothing, the next day teeth were poking out. Crazy! She is so close to crawling it's not even funny. She gets up on all fours and rocks and kind of tosses her torso forward. And she discovered loud. She says, "huhhhHAAAAGHTH!!!!!!" It sounds like she might be gagging to death, but she looks terribly pleased with herself and amused while she's doing it and afterward. I made the sound loudly back at her, and she started to cry. Apparently when she does it it's hilarious, but when I do it it's terrifying. So now I mimic back quietly. The queen approves of this modification. When Robb called tonight I told him how she loves the barnyard sound effects that Gramma Lizzy adds to one of her bedtime stories.

Oh, and that Maureen said her first two words. Robb feels like he's missed all kinds of Mo-isms this week, so he asked breathlessly, "What were they???"

"Go 'Skins."

He paused, and in his best stop-teasing-me-voice replied, "They were not!"

Cranky

I've been a little off for the past, oh, six to eight weeks. My new prescription has my thyroid balanced beautifully. But my hair is falling out. And I am very short tempered and irritable. My doctor said, "Your labs look great, but I don't like the hair loss or mood thing." I told him, "Me neither." So we're changing things up in hopes I stop feeling like the Incredible Hulk with male pattern baldness. No change yet.

As an illustration right this moment I am cranked up angry and can't get myself settled down. I've been pissed off more or less since 1:30pm. Maureen had just fallen asleep in the car. I needed her to take a nap, but I also needed to run in to the natural food store in Prince Frederick to pick up some vitamins the doctor wants me to start taking.

I had my fingers crossed that it would be quiet in the store. I forgot about their obnoxious door chimes when you walk in. DING DONG DING DONG! Luckily Mo slept through them. But some jerk in a Yosemite Sam costume was having a really loud conversation with the clerk at the checkout counter. I quickly rolled Mo to the back of the store and skulked there like a shoplifter muttering, "Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up." The loudmouth showed no signs of leaving. "Shut up, shut up, shut up." I peeked at Mo, still miraculously asleep and tried to peruse vitamin labels. Yee-haw! "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." (It's a Catholic thing, even for lapsed Catholics.)

I finally got the attention of one of the employees. I told her what I was looking for and added that my daughter was sleeping. She said she remembered those days and helped me look around. Meanwhile the guy finally left. I was the only customer in the shop. The clerk asked the owner about one of the supplements. I repeated to the owner that my baby was sleeping, but she ignored me and proceeded to help me at full volume. She found my vitamins, but wanted to know why I was taking them and who was my doctor and isn't he great. By this time another woman walked through the door. DING DONG DING DONG! The owner scurried off to talk to her about natural hair dyes.

And Maureen woke up.

The clerk looked up the price of a vitamin bottle that would not scan. It was $22.95. "Oh? How much is the other one?" $54.99. "Fifty-five dollars? There is NO WAY. I'm really sorry, and I appreciate your help, but that's more than I expected to pay."

I left the vitamins on the counter and pushed the stroller out to the car where I nearly started crying in frustration with myself because there was no reason for Mo's nap to be interrupted because I was never going to pay eighty dollars for vitamins. I buckled her into the car seat, "I'm sorry, baby. Mommy's sorry." I was drenched in sweat and called Robb to vent about the loud-talking jackwagons and overpriced vitamins.

Fast forward several hours. The baby is taking her nap and Robb is home from work, so I make a quick run to Walgreens. The first vitamin I was looking for is not something they stock, but the second one was on the shelf for $6.99 for 100 tablets. Are the ones at the nature store gold plated? Are they made by magical fairies? I get furious all over again about the price discrepancy.

Stopped at a red light on the drive home, I read over the label. Take once a day with a full meal. Caution: Do not take this product if you are pregnant or nursing a baby.

Un-flippin'-believable. I squeezed the plastic bottle in my hand and fantasized about crushing it in my fist. When I get home I am going to stand in the driveway and throw it over the house into the back yard. I will pitch that piece of garbage vitamin bottle into a tree. Maybe into the river. I will stomp every single pill into dust on the car port.

Stupid wasted seven dollars.

Doctor knows I'm nursing.

Charlatan store owner.

Loudmouth jerks.

Stinking.

...

I got home and found out that Robb has to travel to Norfolk tomorrow morning as part of the emergency response to Hurricane Irene and will be there for a week, which means I can't go to work this week. Add a jigger of bile and stir. End of illustration.

I have been having days like this for the past two months. I stew about silly things and work myself into a frenzy. Thus far I have resisted the urge to smash the portable phone and baby monitor into millions of pieces. But if I snap before my new new thyroid prescription kicks in, those two items are at the top of my list.

Rock out with your clock out

Last night was the first time Robb and I have gone out without the baby since she was born. Charlene came to babysit. We were about a mile from the house, and Robb asked how I was doing.

"I'm freaking out."

I knew Charlene would be fine with Mo. I was just secretly hoping that the violent thunder storms would not completely miss us, and the concert would be tragically called off. I'm glad it wasn't canceled.



We saw Joan Jett & The Blackhearts and ZZ Top at the Calvert Marine Museum. Neither of them are bands we would have ordinarily sought out or paid to see. But YAY, free tickets! CMM has a nice setup for concerts. Last summer we saw Pat Benatar and REO Speedwagon. My favorite Joan Jett song is I Hate Myself for Loving You--it's one of the two JJ songs I know. She was good and all, but then...



...after Robb and I were momentarily confused--"Wait, I thought there were supposed to be four guys with beards???..."--I realized I am secretly a ZZ Top fan.



It was a secret I had been keeping from myself. They were AWE. SOME. When I was born ZZ Top had already been together for a decade. But these old guys know how to rock.



Check out that crazy drum kit. And I think their jackets were decorated with bedazzled pot leaves.



We tried not to check what time it was on the cell phone too often during the show but couldn't help it. We stayed until the end and got home at 10:45pm. Mo was fine.

Huge sigh of relief.

Still more things I did not know 2 weeks ago

Continuing from an earlier string of posts (here and here):



9. My taste buds are old and mostly dead. Foods that taste sweet and only mildly tart to me, are astonishingly sour to Maureen. Take mashed Granny Smith apples for example. I think, "Mmm, homemade apple sauce." And Mo thinks, "Holy crap, woman, stop feeding me lemons!" And then her left eye flutters against the loathesome flavor.

10. Try as I might, I'm just not as big a hippie as I want to be. Yes, we're still using cloth diapers, but the herbal wipe solution made baby's butt look like raw hamburger. Poor Mo! Major fail.

11. It is great that Maureen is active, alert, and curious. But nursing an active, alert, and curious seven month old is not so fun. Especially when she's grabby, pinchy, scratchy, slappy, kicky, twisty, squirmy, shovey, bitey, fussy, and constantly turning around to look at the dog. Kellymom, take me away.



12. Whew, yesterday was a doozy. As Mo was going down for her first nap of the day, Robb dropped by the house to pick something up he needed at work. Maureen heard his footsteps in the hallway and Sukey's collar jingling, and her eyes snapped open. Just like that the napportunity was gone. An hour-and-a-half later when we tried again, she refused to close her eyes. By that time she was so tired she fussed through her milk and kept on complaining (at this point Mommy set her down in her crib and took a "time out") until I got the bright idea to give her a bath. Somewhat relaxed Mo finally took her first nap of the day at 3pm. When Robb got home I told him that college made me want to drink, but parenthood makes me want a line of coke and a hooker. Never thought Charlie Sheen could be a role model for parenting, but it is clear to me now that his children drove him to it.

Repeat to self 1,000 times

If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.
If she's screaming, she's breathing.

Gloomidity

We're camped out here in perpetual twilight. There are beach towels and blankets slung over every window to combat solar gain. The lights are all off, and forget about running the clothes dryer or firing up the oven. As you can see I need to wash the dishes, but that would call for submerging my hands in warm water. Nope, not happening today.

If you haven't heard the East Coast is broiling these several days. Today is the worst of it. Temps are expected to top 100, and with the humidity factored in they will near 120. I'm off to work, though, where I expect we'll have busy night full of pets suffering the effects of the weather. Hopefully no tragedies. Wherever you are, stay cool. And bring your cats and dogs inside!

Has it been six months already?

On Sunday Maureen was 6 months old. It seems like only yesterday we were bringing her home. Now she's eating rice cereal, jumping in her saucer, almost sitting on her own, grabbing toys, and inchworming around on the floor. Last Wednesday she weighed 16 pounds 14 ounces.







In honor of her half birthday, Mo went swimming with Daddy on the carport. She loved trying to smack the ducks and surprised herself with some big splashes.

By the way, we hope that Jamie, George, Chere, and Jennie all had very happy birthdays!

Separating wheat from chaff

I went a little crazy last week. Sorting the goodies from the baddies. Separating the wheat from the chaff. Except in my case I'm only interested in eating chaff. I read labels for wheat gluten and its many aliases. And checked expiration dates on packages. That led to some frightening discoveries. Mainly I need to clean out the pantry more often. Good rule of thumb: if you can't remember purchasing a particular food item, it's time to chuck it.





But it didn't stop with the pantry shakedown. I moved on to scrubbing the cabinet faces and the counters. And I while I was standing on a chair I noticed that the top of the curtains were dusty (moreso than I care to admit), so into the wash with them. Whoa, the windows look really huge with the curtains down. If we weren't renters I would have chucked those nasty old shades too. (They are all over the house, and our landlord is not interested in reimbursing us for miniblinds, so they will remain.) But check out our new canister set (Thanks, Aunt Bunny!). Red and white--that sends me to the moon! Also I would like to note that our drying rack that looks like a tiny lawn is ingenious and truly indispensable. It can hold a ridiculous amount of baby feeding gear and breast pump accessories. I highly recommend it.







Now it's all about modifying recipes like the burgers above. I crunched up Kix cereal to use as breadcrumbs, and it worked just fine. Yes, I could purchase gluten free breadcrumbs at the store, but that's kind of ridiculous. Printing the words "gluten free" on a package sets a tricky equation into motion:

"gluten free" + food = normal price x 2 

There are enough foods available that do not contain wheat gluten and do not need to be labeled as such, mainly found around the periphery of the grocery store. You know, all that unprocessed stuff. Eggs, butter, milk, veggies, fruit, meat. So there will be a whole lot more cooking from scratch around here. Especially bread. I need to start experimenting with gf bread recipes and soon because this pseudo-Adkins thing I've been doing has got to go. This past week I even got Robb to try (and like) paella. It's a brave new world here at Fig Point!

Don't hate me because I'm crafty

Remember when I was going to turn these fabrics into a twin sized quilt for the daybed in the guest room at Mom's house? Probably not. It was a long time ago. Here is a refresher in photos.



First I stitched together the quilt top. This was the easy part because I still had a lot of momentum and enthusiasm for a brand new project. It looks pretty cute draped over our camping cot.





Next I cleared all the furniture out of the dining room to make the quilt sandwich. Pinning it all together involved a lot of crawling around on the wood floors. Very hard on the knees, but my momentum was still cranking, so I powered through the pain. The back of the quilt is one gigantic piece of white muslin.



Then I laid down some guide lines in masking tape.



The guide lines were to help me tie the quilt, which I did with a huge needle, 100% wool yarn, and a running stitch. Then I snipped between the stitches, tied double knots, and trimmed all the tails to equal lengths. I may have rattled that off in two sentences, but I assure you it was an ordeal. Time consuming. Kneecap crushing. Blister making. Momentum killing. That was around Christmastime 2009.



And then the quilt sat dormant for a year and a half. Fast forward to May 2011 and Angie's visit to Maryland. Oops, well this is kind of out of order. Right after Angie left I made this quilt plate as a way of procrastinating on the binding a little more.



Here's a close up. I think it might be my favorite part of the whole project, this satisfying little bit of embroidery. Okay, back to work...



Angie got me jump started on binding the quilt. I was frightened of this step for whatever cockamamie reason. I even planned to use a roll of pre-cut binding, so it's not like I had to make my own or anything. Angie talked me through it. Once I adjusted how I was thinking about binding, sewing it wasn't very difficult. The hand sewing on the back was even meditative. But I had to work on it during Mo's naps, early in the morning, and very late at night. It took some doing, and Robb running major baby interference for me. Thanks, hon.



And once the binding was sewn on, I could wash the quilt to make the wool ties shrink up into cutie little tufts and make my whole quilt puffy and crinkly and yummy.



Even my helper likes it. Adorable.



Don't tell Mom, but it's her birthday present. Maureen and I will be hand delivering it to her in about a week. So the apple blossom quilt is finally complete, and I am very relieved. Now what can I start sewing next?