Down Came the Rain

Friends Like Me

2010-07-05T18:44:00.000-07:00

Total milestone today:

I took Rain to a bookstore today. Like the last time we went a few days ago, she quickly found the stage area where they do storytime for the kiddos. She gets up there, and for whatever reason, begins what I can only call an oration. I mean, she is laying it out there. Her hands are all flappin' with emotion, and she's using phrases like, "Remember!" and "OK? OK?" emphatically. After several minutes of addressing the audience (mainly me), she returns to a play area where there's a train track set up with lots of trains. I'm still sort of laughing about her whole speech thing, when Rain walks up to a little girl (a few years older than herself) playing with a train. She sort of plays next to her for a minute, then all casual like, says, "What your name?"

I was stunned. Rain loves playing with anybody, but she usually just resorts to saying, "Hey, Girl, follow me!" or, "Hey, Boy, want [to] play?" To hear her actually put into simple words a request for an intro to friendship was ... cool. I mean, for a second, I got a smidgen of a cringe in my belly ("If this older girl totally rejects her or ignores Rain, how is she gonna take it? Will she care or understand?"). After a few moments of silence (when I began to wonder if the girl had heard her at all), she said, "Vivian." Rain said, "Oh." That pretty much sealed the deal. They played until Vivian had to go home.

She may have her daddy's stern gaze, but she has her mommy's need for social interaction (read: find me on Facebook)! Muah haha

Trippin'

2010-04-07T22:30:00.000-07:00

So, we're finally going on vacation. We haven't been on a major trip since '05. And who doesn't want to cart around a toddler through Europe?? I don't know about you, but that gets me all kinds of excited. :) So, here is peek at the madness (beginning this Friday):

http://family.maakestad.com/europe/

Wish us luck ...

I Know, I Know

2010-03-07T21:06:00.001-08:00

Get your pitchforks, clubs, and torches. It's totally ok to beat me, because I deserve it. I got a kindly email from my friend last week asking why I've gone MIA on this blog. I have reasons, and none of them are probably acceptable, but here they are:

1. Writing has usurped the little time I had before. For a year, I've been working on a young adult novel (believe it or not, the story isn't about a distraught mother with an insane two-year-old ... fiction is supposed to be about escape, right??). I am currently penning the last chapter, and with my goal within reach, I truly have used all my extra time to work on it. Meaning, when Rain takes her 2-hr nap during the middle of the day, I race to write. Because when she's awake and she sees me on my laptop, she eyes it and says, "Goodnight, computer." Hint, hint.

2. Ever since Rain turned 2, I've had misgivings about blogging about her routines and posting her photos. When she was a baby, she looked like, well, every other chubby baby. Now that her face is actually distinguishable, I've had doubts about posting her pics online as I have done. In a few months, I plan to remove all of her online photos. Parent-noia? Sure, but I recognize we don't live in Mayberry anymore, either. So, I'm on Facebook now. I post stuff about Rain (plus photos) there, because I can screen it better than I can here.

3. Last but not least, there is Rain. Yes, Rain is the reason there is very little blogging about Rain. Some kids are sort of quiet and do-my-own-thing types. Rain, alas, wants to do ALL OUT living 24/hours a day, and I'm sort of treading water. See below.

So how has little Miss Rainbow been these many months? I have always likened our relationship as one a girl might have with a bad high school boyfriend. I find myself thinking, "You're treating my terribly, but if I just love you enough, you'll change!" One moment, she can make me feel so proud and loved (like the other day, when she saw a cut on my hand, she kissed it gently), and the next day, I want to gouge my eye out in frustration (like last week, when she refused to use the potty for two days to show me she doesn't have to potty train until she darn well feels like it).

She has a posse/gang now (her 2 cousins), and I find that her love for books (sigh) is not a match for athletics. I have yet to find a slide, bounce house, or piece of furniture high enough or intimidating enough to frighten her. She cajoles other children much older than her to join her in doing things that would make the average mother bite her nails to the nubs. But, she's already made me jaded. Moms at the playground must think I'm a heartless slug who wants to see my child get hurt because I make halfhearted efforts to stop her from using the tallest slides and steepest jungle gyms. And I just wanted her to love reading Curious George. Sigh.

Rain has also developed a shameless geekiness about her. She hums the Star Wars theme song, works the iPhone likes it's another hand, and prefers the chocolate milk at Starbucks to any other drink. Period.

I digress.

My original point was, I shall try again to update this here blog for the time being, though the entries will have to be much shorter than what I just wrote. :) Thank you for your patience, and please, remember to blow out your torches on the way out.

Heavenly Fodder

2009-10-15T20:16:00.001-07:00

Tonight, for the first time, Rain said a prayer herself before she went to sleep. She has on occasion mimicked the act, but has never actually said anything understandable. Tonight, she said, quite clearly:

Heavenly Fodder,

Thank you.

For my house, Isaiah [her cousin, pictured above], Tete [nickname for Rain's best buddy, pictured above],

Mommy, Da-ee [Daddy], Me-ma [Grandma], Weeta [Abuelita, great-grandma], and Nemo and Dori [from Finding Nemo].

Amen.

There are many things I could say about this moment. I wish I had more time to write of all the things that have changed for me in the last two years. For those of you who kindly followed my pregnancy and checked in on Rain's toddlerhood, thank you. For those who have a baby on the way for the first time and have found some comfort that I have survived so far: trust me, everything is going to be OK.

Amen.

Potty Draining

2009-08-03T10:44:00.000-07:00

Last night Rain had a nightmare. She tossed and turned, but because she's only seen G-rated movies in her life, her brain didn't have much frightening material to work with, apparently. So, she shouted words like "shoes" (she hates when she can't go with us everywhere, and often demands her shoes so she can follow), "papas"(the Spanish word for potatoes, her code word for food in general, meaning she's hungry), and finally "pee-pee."

Pee-pee. Yes, mommy would categorize "pee-pee" as a nightmare, too.

Potty training is the last major test of wills between a parent and a toddler. After, of course, begins the test of wills between a parent and a full-grown kid then a parent and a teen, but still, let's not lose focus.

At first, Rain's potty training seemed to be going smoothly. We bought her a little potty, and she showed no signs of resistance. She wasn't afraid to sit on it like some kids are. In fact, she would sit a long time on the potty and do nothing. No pee, no poo--nothing. Fine, I thought, we'll just get her used to sitting on it, and that little accomplishment will be all that's needed for the week.

We bought her a second potty (you know, to cover our bases), and put her in Pull-Ups. She peed in the potty several times, and we cheered like madmen. Quickly, she was in regular panties, and I truly believed she was on her way to toilet independence.

At some point, Rain realized how dear potty training had become for me. I pine for the day we won't have to buy packages of over-price Pull-Ups and wipes. When I would try to coax Rain to use the potty, she began to tell me things like, "No, thanks!" Her rebuffs were cheerful at first. Then she would say angrily, "No pee-pee!" and run away. I would put her on the potty, she would sit there for five minutes, walk away, and then pee in her pants.

This was maddening. After two weeks, she got a tummy ache one day, and that brought us back to step 1 all over again.

Last week we had our carpets professionally cleaned, because though I thoroughly cleaned each of Rain's disaster, I wanted a fresh start, if you will.

Rain's gotten a bit fed up, too. Not only did her cousin (1 month older than her) get the process down in less than a month (no accidents in a month, too), Rain has gotten embarrassed about the whole potty thing. She tries hiding her wet Pull-Ups (won't let me change them), and will NOT poop until she's entirely alone. I know where this comes from, and it's partly my fault. Though I've never razzed her for "accidents" I do sigh deeply when I have to clean poo from her pants (c'mon, wouldn't you?). I give a feeble, "C'mon, Rain, please put poop in the potty. It's right here, see? Just let Mommy know if you need help ..."

I shouldn't have commented at all. Now she thinks the actual act of pooping is what's disgusting, not getting it all over the carpet. So, she tries to hold it or hide when she needs to go. Now we're going to have to start all over again.

I comfort myself with the fact that there aren't too many five-year-olds running around with diapers, so just statistically, Rain should get this thing down eventually. But the thought of this going on for even another month, let alone years, is ... Well, I'll just have to keep the carpet cleaner number handy (*sigh*).

Twit-urrr

2009-07-10T21:36:00.000-07:00

If I had a Twitter account, my uh, twits today would've gone as follows:

- Using public bathroom. Rain ran to different stall. Locked me out. Unrolling toilet paper.
- At clothing store. Rain lost. Again. Found snuggled up in bedding display.
- In waiting room. Caught Rain trying to eat cashew. Used cashew.
- Must cut down Starbucks visits. Rain got her 'usual' (chocolate milk carton) from drink counter herself.
- Rain demanding I draw WALL-E on back of Target receipt. Can't remember if WALL-E has mouth. Rain corrected drawing.

As Mr. Billy Joel said, "And so it goes ..."

Bring It

2009-06-30T23:44:00.000-07:00

I went to the mall today (I know, I'm a sadist). My sister-in-law and I took the kiddos (Rain and her two cousins, ages 2 and 3) to play in the mini park inside. Anyway, I've read enough parenting magazines to know the kind of drama that happens at playgrounds (bullies, accidents, and--gasp--children running around without sunscreen), but we decided to go anyway.

We get there, and Rain is excited. She takes off her shoes (following the rules) and runs off like mad. I'm feeling pretty good, because the place is enclosed, air-conditioned, and all the parents are sitting right there.

Strangely enough, it's that last item that actually makes the playground scene uncomfortable. Because parents are sitting in full view of their kids, this makes for some weirdness. When kids start shoving each other, for instance, you expect a parent to intervene, and when one doesn't, it's like, "Wha??" Then the other observant parents are sitting there staring at each other like, "What are we gonna do about this nonsense?" or "Did you notice that kid's not wearing any sunscreen?" Or if a kid freaks out at the top of the slide and blocks the line from moving, where's the mom to get things started again? There are all kinds of mediocre issues like these that demand attention, you know?

So. For quite a while, I was pretty impressed that Rain and her cousins played politely with all the other children. It's not that our band is a sinful little bunch, but when you work daily to mold and discipline kids, it's easy to forget that the hard work eventually brings results. Trust me, after Rain throws a fit at home, I find myself delving out punishments thinking, "Am I going to be on TV some day explaining to the public, 'I did the best I could with her?'" I digress. Anyway, it didn't take me long to notice that there was a little boy running around the playground pushing by others, yelling, and fighting with his equally evil siblings (a boy and another girl far too old to be swinging around in a playground). Though Rain and Celeste (Rain's cousin, who is only a month older than her) happened to play far away from this boy, I sensed there would be trouble eventually. After half an hour, though, I let my guard down and began perusing a magazine (of course, I did the sporadic mom thing: read one paragraph, check on kids, read another paragraph, check on kids ...).

At one point, I hear the girls chanting. I look up, and Rain & Celeste are sitting on a nearby bench side by side. Together they shout, "____, no!" I can not make out exactly what they're saying, but they're passionately chanting it in unison. At first, I think, "How cute--they're singing ... I think." Then I notice they're leaning forward, brows furrowed. Puzzled, I move to the side and realize that a piece of playground equipment has hidden from me the focus of their ire.

The little boy who had been trolling the grounds for trouble had finally engaged them. He looked to be 2 or 3 years older than Rain, though he carried a stuffed horse (what gives?). He screamed, and to his obvious surprise, the girls screamed back. In a move of a solidarity, they decided that instead of running from this brat, they were going to provoke him to put his horsey where his mouth was. He shouted again, and they chanted at him with a tone that amounted to, "Bring it!" The boy stepped closer and screamed again. Already my leg was twitching as I debated, "Should I let them handle it? Is this going to amount to character building or a cock fight?"

The girls chanted again, and the boy came closer. He was furious that they would not run. He stepped within two paces of them and raised his hand. That did it. My sister-in-law could take no more. She rushed over there, but the boy only swung his toy in anger. Once he saw that a mom was on duty, he scurried away. The girls were like, "Yeah, and don't come back!"

The boy's mom, of course, never once paused in her conversation with a friend to correct her son. So, what did I do? I sat back and picked up my magazine. Maybe it was smug, but I felt a bit sunnier knowing when it came down to it, the girls weren't going to be punked out by some bully. And if the kid runs around in public with a stuffed toy at his age, you know his mom doesn't make him wear sunscreen, either.

"Kids Today ..."

2009-06-19T17:22:00.000-07:00

Since Rain has turned two, I find myself thinking more and more like my parents. Phrases like, "Do you want me to give you a reason to cry about?" and "Fine! But don't come crying to me about it when you fall off!" seem to come around more and more in circulation. Today I went out into the mall for the first time in forever, and I found myself thinking a lot of "Kids today this" and "Kids today that." The one that went more than a few times around the block was, "Kids today--what are they wearing??" For your convenience, I've broken down the main categories of fashion sense (hair included) available at the mall, for those who like to mentally prepare:

1. HOMELESS
This kid gives new meaning to the words "holey moley." Everything he wears is a combination of (1) ratty, (2) black, or (3) ratty black. Never mind he has the newest iPod and a seemingly Marinara Trench-deep account for hair dye, the boy walks about like he's about to ask me for a buck. Which he may do.

2. FAN HAPPY
Fan Happy haircuts often go hand-in-hand with Homeless guys, but not necessarily. If you've seen this cut, you know I'm not exaggerating when I say that it looks like there's a fan blowing on this guy's hair from the side all the time. The bangs go across they face (over the eyes) unreasonably low to create this permanent swipe of hair that doesn't occur in the natural world. Not even fledgling reporters in a tornado-force gust of wind have this look, so what's the deal? I pity these guys and girls--I do. They get little sleep at night because all day they're building this crick in their necks from tilting their heads to the side to keep the look.

3. SCARY SKINNY
Ok, please for the love of all that's good: young men, please stop wearing skinny jeans. Seriously, please. Maybe I'm old school, but who wants a man who is so scrawny he can share share jeans with you? Man up! I say again, man up!

4. BABY MAMA
Skank, I know, is a perennial favorite in fashion, so this doesn't qualify as new. What is continuously shocking to me is how much younger these girls are who are running around like they're 21. I'm so not morally judging them, because I for one think it's totally cool for a 10-year-old to look 21 ... as long as she plays the part all the way. Like move out of mom and dad's. Get a job. Pay rent. Buy your own food. Take care of your baby. Did I mention get out of mom and dad's?

Ok, gotta go--there's a kid over here looking for a buck.

Upendow

2009-06-13T21:01:00.000-07:00

Rain's favorite word is "octagon." Whenever she sees a stop sign or a tiny, angular MasterCard logo on TV, she shouts, "Octagon!" Tim's original reaction to her saying this word several weeks ago was so impressive (he said, "Wow!" which for Tim, is pretty emotional), that Rain will say this word whether it's necessary or not (*points to light fixture* "Mommy--octagon!").

Her language is developing along nicely, which is a relief since four months ago I had her tested for verbal issues (another case of "parent"noia). The problem now is she still very much has her baby accent. This wouldn't be a big deal, but now she knows she's saying real words. When I don't understand her, she gets frustrated. Example:

Rain: (points to the toy iPod in her hand) "Mom, upendow."
Tim: "What, Rainbow?"
Rain: "Upendow."
Me: "Hmm. Do you mean 'octagon'?"
Rain: (*sighs*) "MOM, upendow."
Tim: (whispers) "What's she saying?"
Me: "I don't know, but she's saying it the same way each time."
Rain: (slowly) "Mom, uup-enn-dowww.
Tim: "Did she just say it--"
Me: "Slow like we're stupid? Yeah."
Rain: (more sighing, pointing again to iPod): "UPENDOW!"
Me: "Sorry, honey, but mommy doesn't understand."
Rain: (looking frustrated, hurt): "Upendow."

The next day, Rain was playing with her toy iPod again (plays like 6 songs or something), and she keeps singing one of the songs again and again. I stop and listen. Then I get it. She's singing "The Wheels on the Bus."

Rain: "Wheels on bus go upendow, upendow, upendow ..."
Me: "Oh! You mean, 'The people on the bus go up and down, up and down!"
Rain: (pointing happily to her iPod) "Upendow!"

I try to be patient during this process of learning vocab, but there are just times I say, "Sorry, kiddo, but until you stop speaking baby, I'm not going to be able to guess what you're trying to say."

What's maddening is she says other things perfectly clear.

Me: (dumb smile on my face, pom-poms at the ready) "Rain, ready to try going to the potty? Huh, huh?"
Rain: "Nope."

Me: (frantically preparing dinner while keeping Rain and her cousins from dangling off the stove--no hands to spare) "Guys, please give me just a second to finish!"
Rain: "Mom! Juice! Cookie!"

Then, when you least expect it:
Me: "Love you, Rain."
Rain: "Yuv you, too."

Guess it's a fair deal after all.

Arr!

2009-05-25T20:21:00.000-07:00

Rain turns 2 on the 27th. We celebrated her birthday today. The lessons I have learned from hosting 2 toddler birthday parties:

1. No matter how many times you tell yourself, "The child has only a vague idea of what's going on. Let's not make this a big to-do," the larger the party gets.

2. As soon as you invite ONE person to a toddler's birthday party, it is officially an affair. Invitations, decorations, party games, and stress soon follow.

3. Every child believes himself to be the Big Cheese. Kids don't have the patience or desire to clap for another kid's joyful gift opening. At some point, he's gonna want to know, "Where the heck is MY gift??"

4. By the end of the party (usually only 1/3 of the way through), something you care for will be broken, torn, stained, or left bleeding. Guard your pets.

5. Just buy the cake. Oh, you have a great idea for a cute poodle marshmallow cake with gumdrop eyes that you think you an whip up the night before? Just buy the cake. Oh! Your mother offered to help you make the poodle cake? Great--buy the cake. Sorry, I didn't realize you used to bake for a local cafe, because if I had known that, I would've told you to let it go and just buy the cake.

Rain had a fab piratey birthday, don't get me wrong. We watched a pirate-themed Backyardigans cartoon about 5 times while she ate hotdogs and chips. She said, "Arr!" a lot, and at one point, was rolling around in a mud hole she made in our yard.

The worst thing about Rain's party, honestly, was me. I had decided to break rule #5 above, and I paid a dear price. I had read some far-fetched, fantastical parenting magazine (I should have been on guard at that point) that explained how easy it would be for me to make a pirate ship birhday cake. Violent seaman ravaging port cities and defenseless civilian watercraft? I'm all over it!

So, last night I buy all my ingredients. The recipe called for 2 tubs of frosting. I'm thinking that they had some intern in the cooking department put frosting on the cake with a toothpick, 'cause I used up 2 tubs of frosting quick-like and was whimpering, "My poop deck is still bare!!"

I started baking at 11 PM. At 4 AM, I had the following:
- Boat-like cake shape
- Sunken bow
- Headache

I had not started decorating, because the front of the ship was too low. Right about then I was wondering why I hadn't just bought a silly cake. Tim goes to the grocery store and returns with more jars of frosting and a package of Oreos (to soothe me). I would not take his trinkets, because I was busy attending my own pity party.

Tim went to take a shower. All seemed lost. There I was stuck with several chocolate-covered spatulas, a busted cake, and the knowledge that Rain would wake up at 7 AM.

Then, in a moment that can only happen in one's desolate kitchen at 4:30 AM, I heard the chords to an 80s love song that I can't remember the words to (something about an eagle and a mountain top, I dunno), and I had my epiphany: Love lifts us up where we belong, and so do cookies.

So, to the person who ate a piece of cake today that had a stack of mystery Oreos under it: be comforted that I will now abide by rule #5.

Mr. Jerky Pants

2009-05-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

Texas has plenty of long, straight roads. Every once in a while at night, I find myself in this daze (cover your ears, Texas Department of Transportation), following the car lights in front of me like some licensed mosquito. Miles later, I'll stir from my stupor and think, "How did I get here?"

Being a mom is kind of like that. I've gotta a toddler, but hey, I'm still cruising along on my young woman highway. Then one day, I look up from cruise control, and bam! I'm 30, and momisms are slipping out of my mouth.

Yesterday, I was alone in the car and late (as always). This guy decides to spin out into my lane from a side street, and I have to do some fancy break-action (not like a Bond movie or anything, but tricky for a sedan). To express my dismay towards this reckless individual, I slam my wheel and bellow, "Thanks a lot, Mr. Jerky Pants!"

Yep, that's what I hollered. What am I gonna say if Tim ever cheats on me? "How could you, Mr. Bad Britches? "

What's next? "Goodness me" and "Bless my heart?" After that comes holiday vests and Christmas pins. Matching animal print pantsuits, here I come! Aghhhhh!

(*breath, breath*)

Ok, maybe I'm getting paranoid, but it's time to take off the cruise control, or I'm gonna be sporting a pilgrim vest by Thanksgiving.

What Will You Learn?

2009-04-17T00:24:00.000-07:00

I'll start with honesty: the first time I heard about homeschooling, I thought, "That is the dumbest idea I've ever heard." I mean, why homeschool when public school is free, right? Not only that, I pretty much had the same objection that, I think, a lot of people do: how will the child get any social skills?

At that time, I did not know any homechooled kids, let alone "unsocialized" homeschooled kids; but who needs evidence when you've got the verdict, right?

I finally did meet homeschooled kids. Where? In the public art classes I used to teach and a few at church. What surprised me most about these kids--I realize I'm generalizing here, but the similarities were pretty striking--is that they were not anti-social at all. In fact, they were quite talkative and open, especially to adults. Why is that?

A side note here: I could go on about how well-read and obviously intelligent these kids were. I could also talk about how wonderful most public school teachers and administrators are. But, neither of these things are my focus at the moment.

Tonight (or shall I say, early this morning?), my thoughts are troubled. Over the last few days. I've been thinking a lot about some teenagers I know. Recently, I was introduced to a pair of teenage girls I had not seen for many years. Now, let's be real here. A lot of times (at least in the U.S.), teens can be a bit standoffish when they interact with adults. Some are openly hostile when goaded--mainly, by their parents--to speak with anyone over 21. So, I was expecting the usual forced politeness and short answers when I met the aforementioned girls.

I was a bit stunned, therefore, when they began freely talking about their lives, future goals (one wants to be a Navy pilot, and the other a classical musician), and family. A minute into the conversation, I realized why these girls were so easy at conversation: they were homeschooled. By now, I've had enough interactions with homeschooled kids to know that they have this weird (by that, I mean uncommon) outgoing way with conversation tinged with (here's the odd part) a sort of innocence.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the homeschooled kids I've met aren't jaded. It's taken me several years to put my finger on it, and that's it. Even after all the bright homeschooled kids I met, the thing that has me seriously concerned about public school is I don't want Rain to be jaded.

Again, I'm not downing public school or even discussing the level of education here. As a product of public school, however, I'm gonna lay it out there: the years from junior high to high school are cruel and unusual punishment. We all know it.

Truthfully, I had a great time in high school. But, I do wonder how much more meaningful and rich an experience I would have had if I had not dealt with all the drama. I know several teens in high school now, and all I can think is, "How did your self-esteem get so low? Where is your confidence? Why won't you let yourself excel like you know you can?"

But I know the answer already. Those of you who have had enough time away from high school to have a different perspective can probably admit the truth, too. Public school is like filming on location in Lord of the Flies.

Yeah, I could blow it off as, "Well, the kids who are strongest will survive, and the rest will just suck it up and manage somehow."

But that's the thing: some don't manage. They become withdrawn, angry, depressed, and even suicidal. If nothing else, we have a bunch of kids pessimistic about Life before they've ever had a chance to really live one.

My problem with all of this is that I don't want Rain to be one of those kids. I don't want her to have to "perform" to an audience of her peers rather than educate herself. Again, I know some will brush this off as, "Well, they have to learn how dark the world is some day, so they might as well start now."

Really? First, the world isn't completely filled with darkness, so how about we focus and expand the points of light we have? Second, why should they learn about the cruelties of the world at an age when they don't have good tools to handle them?

Some of these teens, especially girls, do not have the skills it takes to overcome criticism and search the horizon for better days. Many come from broken homes. Others have low self-esteem (which is to be expected, since TV and magazine ads basically say, "We know what's wrong with your body! Buy this ____, and we'll fix the problem!"). Some teens are simply lost. I don't like the idea of throwing these kids together for eight hours a day and hoping for the best.

Is private school the answer? Homeschooling? Part-time public schooling? I don't know, but I'm definitely starting to ask questions.

Growing

2009-04-13T10:41:00.001-07:00

The hard part about being a mom, for me anyway, is that Life has accelerated. Rain is changing, and I have to change, too. The pace of growth from newborn to toddler is insane. One day, we brought this baby home, and she was pretty much a cute sack of flour. She didn't talk, move, or show any real preference for things, but she was irresistable.

Almost two years later (Rain's birthday is next month), she is unrecognizable. She runs like a gazelle, she calls, "Ma!" like a teenager, and if there are peas and chocolate on a plate, chances are good, she'll eat the peas first (Tim finds this shockingly embarassing).

She is everywhere, and I live in a state of controlled panic. If the house is quiet for 3 minutes, I know she is either:
1. Playing in the toilet water
2. Running on top of our long bathroom counter
3. Eating dirt
4. Trying to change her own Pull-Up (as helpful as this sounds, it always ends in disaster)
5. Rolling on the floor in a tussle with her cousin

This goes on all day long. Every few days, she gets inventive, and I'm left thinking, "She's found a new way to kill herself! That makes eighty-seven!"

All the while, days and weeks pass, and before I know any better, a month is gone. Carolyn Hax said it best: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/05/22/AR2007052201554.html

Two days ago, Rain said, very sweetly, "I yuv oo." I, seriously, sort of blushed. You love me? All the crying, kicking, screaming, pooping in your pants, eating dirt stunts, and you really love me? I know this makes me pathetic, but it was worth it. When something around Rain bothers her, when she's scared, she comes to me and hides in my arms. She knows that I will protect her. It is the first time in my life anyone has expected and completely trusted that I could do such a thing.

Every time I put Rain down to sleep, I stare at her for a second and think, "How did this happen? How did you just show up one day and become necessary?" Rain is essential. I don't know how babies do it, but if you let them, they plant themselves in your life and grow into every aspect of it. Before long, the only scary thought is how far you would go to keep that baby safe and growing.

To all the newbie 'rents out there with screaming infants in their hands: may God bless and have pity on our floundering souls! Hold fast, and you, too, may hear the words that soften every parent's heart:

"I'm moving out."

Er, I mean, "I yuv oo."

XOXO

2009-03-17T13:03:00.000-07:00

Diary of a Desperate for Love Mom

March 13, morning: I run over a safety outlet plug with the vacuum cleaner on accident. I immediately turn off the vacuum, put it on its side, and check for damage. Rain comes running, sees the vacuum on its side, and asks it tenderly, "Are you OK?" It's the first time she shows verbal concern for an object, animate or inanimate.

March 13, afternoon: Rain willingly, for whatever reason, kisses me for the first time.

March 17, morning: Rain wakes up, and asks loudly, "Mom, where are you?" A complete sentence + sentiment of love = miracle.

When Rain was born, I imagined that some day, my hard work would be rewarded with hugs and kisses. Something to make me feel it was all worthwhile. How 'bout a whole lotta NO? Rain, until four days ago, did not give kisses. When I kissed her, she would give me this look like, "Seriously? Get what you need and leave me alone." It wasn't just me, either. Nobody got kisses from Rain. Nobody.

Part of me wanted to believe that it was just her age and she was too young to pucker up. But, my niece who is a month older than Rain, has been puckering up since she was 12 or 14 months old. Rain was never a cuddly-bear-hugs kind of kid, and after a while, I just gave up trying to get some love.

Then two weeks ago, we finally started to break some ice. First came her agitation when Tim & I went on a date and left her under the care of my brother. Normally, Rain has no problem hanging out with my family. This time, however, my brother said she searched room by room for us, and finally, she buried herself in our bed covers and waited for our return. When we came home, we found her asleep, still in our bed. Huh?

Then last weekend Tim, Rain, & I went to dinner. Tim went to the restroom, and Rain said, "Daddy? Daddy? Where's Daddy??" She immediately became agitated and went to look for him. I sort of laughed, because she has never reacted that way. When he came back, she smiled and clapped. Weird.

Then, on March 13, she smiled, leaned forward, and kissed me. There was only one thing I could say:

"Give Mommy another kiss, please! I have a cookie right here ..."

Raincloud

2009-02-15T10:47:00.000-08:00

Hush-a-bye,
Don't you cry,
Go to sleep, my little Raincloud,
When you wake,
You shall have,
All the pretty little horses.

Rain is sick with an on-and-off fever, cough, congestion--the works. I put her to sleep just now, and I was thinking about what an old friend told me the other day as she looked fondly at Rain:
Enjoy this time now. You don't know it yet, but these are the best years of your life."

I don't know what the future holds. Maybe I've got 60 more years of fantastic happiness, maybe 30, maybe 1 (eeks). But, I sang Rain her lullabye as I ran my fingers through her still-baby-fine-sparse hair. She curled up next to me, and she looked so peaceful and content. After only a few verses, she was asleep. Her dark, curly lashes always remind me of what my sister-in-law called her when she first saw her as a newborn: muñeca. Doll. A living doll.

I kept touching her hair. Someday, she will think I'm the biggest annoyance ever, and that all I do is yell at her to get off the phone, finish her homework, quit talking back ...

But right now, I am the coolest person she knows (granted, her social circle isn't that big, but still). She will do anything as long as I'm with her.

I know that tomorrow, at some point, I'll be bemoaning my lot in life as she defiantly throws her chocolate milk on the floor, but right now, I'll enjoy the thought that she may be the sweetest, best life I'll ever be a part of.

WW III

2009-02-11T21:04:00.000-08:00

Earlier today, my niece Celeste grabbed a handful of Rain's hair. She shook her like a maraca. Rain punched her in retaliation.

Later, my generally sweet nephew (seriously, two weeks ago, we joked how peaceful-Gandhi-ish this kid is) took one look at Rain (who was standing on our ottoman) an knocked her right off. She went flying and hit her head on the bottom of our sofa.

Rain is no saint, either. She has a sixth sense for knowing a child's MVT (Most Valuable Toy) and can find no greater joy than hijacking one as she runs around the room like, "You want it? You want it? COME GET IT!"

There are weak moments throughout my day where I imagine calling my sister-in-law and saying, "Our happy Switzerland has broken out into World War 3--can you please ask the doctors to release you? Feel free to bring your back brace."

Seriously.

My poor sister-in-law is currently doing physical therapy (a good sign, actually) in a place where she is the youngest patient. She has broken her back in two places and has a hairline fracture in her pelvis. Her standard attire is PJs and a back brace, so she is itching to come home (the fact that she has a crabby suite mate factors in as well). She actually wants to come home to our war-ravaged Switzerland.

The truth is, her kids miss her, and it's affecting the oldest (the 3-year-old boy) in a negative way. The youngest one has slipped into a blissful ignorance about her mother's sudden displacement, but the oldest ... well, he's decided to make us all pay a hefty price until his mother returns. He's just plain mad. It shows up all the time about everything. He wants to have an argument about every detail of his routine. This morning he had a fit about whether he wanted juice with his breakfast or not. C'mon!

He's become obsessive with answering the phone, getting his way, and saying "No!" just to get a reaction. But just when I think I'm going to explode, he falls back into his ultra-sweet personality. He's the kid with the dinosaur undies who trips and says comfortingly, "I'm OK!" He has a fantastic smile, and every day he greets me with, "GOOD MORNIN'"! He shakes the hands of the adults at church and says politely,"How ya doin'?"

And for cryin' out loud, he's the only kid in this house who can use the toilet!

The other day, after a long visit, he started to leave his mom's room. Then suddenly he ran back. He had tears in his eyes and just stared at his mom lying in bed. He stood there crying quietly. His mom pulled the tough cookie act ("I love you, too, and it's going to be OK. Don't cry, don't cry ..."). He pulled the tough little guy act and finally left the room.

They both cried again afterwards. So, we all soldier on ....

A Mom Again ... and Again ...

2009-01-30T10:33:00.000-08:00

I will not replay all of yesterday's events as they continue to trouble me. I will, however, touch on the basics as necessary.

Let me begin by saying I love my family. I have eight nieces & nephews, and 4 of them are under the age of 5. These five (Rain included) are a tribe of miscreants and minions, but they are also loving and charming.

For the next few months, Tim & I, along with all members of my family, will have to step up to the plate and help take care of my brother's two children (a boy who is 3, and a girl who is Rain's age). My brother is a good guy, but he's going to need the help.

Yesterday, his wife (whom we all love dearly and is a very petite, sweet girl) was in my attic looking for a box she wanted. To make a painful, long story short, she lost her footing and fell through the attic. She landed in our garage, back first.

I can not adequately describe the child-like, shrill she made when she hit the floor. All I will say is her brother, who saw her fall and was helpless to stop her, took a few hours afterwards to seem coherent again. I was at the other end of the house when it happened, and it took me a moment to understand who could be making such a sound.

The paramedics took her to the hospital, and I left Rain and her two children wailing at home with a family member.

My sister-in-law is still in the hospital today. She broke her back in two spots and they are awaiting more tests to see what other damage was done to her pelvis. In the meantime, her kids are at home with me. Both have looked at me several times since yesterday, troubled, and said, "Mommy? Mommy?"

I told them, "She's coming," but that's all. Until then, and for many months from now, we will all be doing things for her kids that I know my sister-in-law would rather be doing herself. Hugs, play time, racing games, even holding them up--all of that is out of the question.

For the time being, I'm stuck with troubling thoughts. I mean, let's be honest here: I'm hanging by a thread trying to keep up with Rain--how am I going to be able to watch over two others? What if I drop the ball and one of the kids sneaks off and gets hurt? What if my patience falters?

Troubling thoughts, indeed.

Work With Me!

2009-01-20T20:23:00.000-08:00

So. Today two speech therapists came to see Rain. Yes, I said speech therapists. Because the doctor wants to make sure Rain is developing well verbally (since she's so quiet), he signed her up for both a hearing test (as discussed in my last post) and a session with speech therapists. I'm not sure how long Tim can bear to let this madness go on ("But there's nothing wrong with her!" he says. Actually, Tim would never say anything with an exclamation point, so it's more like, "There's nothing wrong with her." <*patient sigh*, continues sipping coffee>).

Anyway, so the speech therapists are doing a two-day visit which began today. I had high hopes, because for the last month, Rain has spent extensive time with her same-aged cousins. She has spoken more in the last few weeks than she ever has, so I was hoping she'd show off some of that verbiage to the therapists.

Rather than go into the details of what happened today, let me just explain it this way.

Do y'all remember that frog character on Looney Tunes?

He used to sing ragtime and dance all kinds of nuts. It always happened that some guy would come along and see the frog dancin', and he'd catch him. The man would race to show the miraculous creature to an audience, thinking all the while of the cash he would soon be swimming in. But as soon as the man pull the curtain to reveal the frog, the frog would sit there all limp, practically dead. He wouldn't move, let alone entertain. But, as soon as the man and the frog were alone again, the frog would start toe-tappin' all over the place.

Rain is my very special frog. For an hour and a half while the two therapists were here, she said not one word. Not one.

When the therapists said goodbye, Rain would not even say, "Bye!" which she says ALL THE TIME. I closed the door behind the good women, and Rain turned to me and said, "Mommy?" I was like, "Oh, now you can talk??" She then said, "Papas?" (the Spanish word she uses for food).

I fed her. After, we went for a walk outside. Rain laughed and babbled the whole way, and I wondered when she was going to start her ragtime numbers.

Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3 ...

2009-01-19T15:51:00.000-08:00

Last Wednesday, we took Rain to an ENT specialist. Now, I see "we," because Tim insisted that he should go, though the appointment was flat in the middle of a work day. Even though we both decided that this test was clearly going to be a waste of everybody's time, somehow it was still important that we both be there. I think, deep down, I had this peep of paranoia that whispered, "What if this turns out to be a very big deal? What if Rain can't hear as well as we think?" These thoughts perhaps played in Tim's mind as well, so off we all went to the appointment.

The specialist gave Rain a hearing test in two parts. If you've never witnessed a toddler taking a hearing test, prepare yourself.

Rain, in her defense, has never been very ... um ... baby-ish. She's not one for cutesy faces and noises from adults, and there's nothing we can do about that. The specialist, however, decided early on that the way to get Rain to do his bidding was to cajole her with a sing-songy voice.

Picture this, if you will: Rain is sitting on Tim's lap in a sound booth. She can not see me. There is one window directly in front of her. All she can see is the specialist at his controls looking directly at her. The test begins.

Specialist: [high-pitched-adult-to-baby voice] "Raaaain! Where am I?"
Rain:[turns to look at one of the box speakers in the room where the voice is coming from]
Specialist: "Raaain! The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round! Where am I?"
This is the part where I had to look away. I could only picture Rain's expression of irritation. Tim confirmed her reaction.
Rain: [Says nothing, but looks dead straight at the guy in the window. Probably wondering why he's asking the same question when the man clearly hasn't moved.]
Specialist: "Oh, Rainbow!"
Rain: [Turns to look at speaker box to humor the guy. The specialist rewards her by, no kidding, turning on the light in a shadowed box in the sound room that has ...

That's right. A Stephen King-ish horrifying clapping monkey! From that point, Rain was justifiably terrified.]

Upon leaving the sound booth, Rain decided she wanted nothing to do with this man. I have never seen her give someone the cold shoulder the way she did to him. She did not flail about, but she simply would stare off to the side every time he talked to her. I mean, she would not look at him. Her stare was focused and dismissive. Ouch.

On a happy note (no pun intended), Rain's hearing is fine.

Can You Hear Me Now?

2009-01-17T07:26:00.000-08:00

Rain is all over the place. She paints, she sings (if shouting in one long note while holding a songbook counts), she chases--she's everything a toddler is supposed to be.

When I go to her wellness visits at her doctor's office, I don't worry. I know they will tell me she's fine, and I'll nod approvingly at some growth chart and that will be that.

And then a few weeks ago, she doesn't pass some little test, and it's time to take things a bit more seriously. Or is it paranoia and preemptive health care? No matter. Whatever the doctor suggests, I know we'll end up doing.

First stop, the ENT (Ears, Nose, & Throat specialist).

Peacemaker ... Again

2008-12-31T07:47:00.000-08:00

So. I was out and about last week with Rain. It was the day after Christmas, and I was feeling at peace with all the after-holiday glow and whatnot. The weather was pleasant but the wind was particularly strong.

We left a shop, and though the wind was fierce, I could tell Rain's diaper needed to be changed. So, I put her in the driver's seat (she loves to play with the wheel) and dumped our bags in the trunk. I quickly changed Rain's diaper in the car and watched her play with the radio for a while. After a few minutes, I informed her it was time to sit in her car seat. I scooped her up and got out. I shut the door against the gusts of wind and got into the back. The door was open about six inches while I sat inside buckling Rain in. I had just buckled her chest latch when, of course, the wind picked up. My door opened suddenly and hit the car next to me.

Mind you, I had never touched the door. I felt bad, though, so I told Rain, "Darn! Mommy has to go and see if the the door did any--"

Honestly, that's as far as I got.

Apparently, there was a lady in the car my door hit. I heard her before I saw her. She was yelling. I mean, straight up cussing me out before she ever got out of the car. I will attempt to edit the following conversation for our younger viewers:

Me, looking puzzled.

Crazy Lady: "Oh, h___ no! You b___!"

Me, still puzzled. Perhaps I ran over a kid??

CL: "You KNEW I was backing out! You should've waited for me!"

Me: "I didn't know--"

CL: "I SAW you! You were out here for 15 minutes and--"

Me, truly puzzled. If she saw me for 15 minutes, wouldn't she had to have been out here as well? How would I know then that she had finally decided to back out? Wait! It doesn't even matter because

Me: "The wind opened the door."

CL whips out her phone and dials.

CL: "It's me. This b___ [nodding to me] just hit my car!"

I HIT her car? Like a head-on collision? All remorse dripping away ...

CL: [still on phone] "Get here right now!"

I check for damage on the car. There is a single hairline of white where my door scuffed hers. I had to lean in to see it.

CL: "Give me your insurance!"

I had to look at her and the mark on the car twice to make sure I hadn't missed the dead kid that must be on the ground. Without a word, I turn to walk back to the driver's seat to get my insurance info.

CL: "You'd BETTER not be trying to leave with my information!"

Seriously? Can you say one thing without screaming?

Me: "Calm down. I'm getting it."

CL: "Oh I won't calm down! This is my son's car and I've only had it for 5 months and--"

I walk away and get the info. At this point, her husband who must have been at a shop nearby, pulls up. He can see right away that his wife is trying her best to make a scene. I shook my head, wondering what kind of man could deal with this on a daily basis? Was he more of a jerk than she was? I take out my phone and shoot a picture of the "damage." At this point, I truly, truly, truly want her to file a claim with my insurance company. I just want the joy of someone else telling her, "Seriously?"

CL's Husband: "So what happened?"

I explain it briefly. It's clear I'm not lying, and that I am 2 seconds from killing his wife. But, Rain, my Rain, is sitting in the car, listening to me. The man nods his head, and while I open up my insurance card stuff, he open the trunk of his wife's car. He pulls out a rag, and no joke, rubs the entire mark off her car. All that's left is a tiny scratch that can be buffed out. Now CL finally stops her ranting when it is absolutely clear that the damage is laughable. Her husband tells her to sit in the car. I offer my insurance information, and he shakes his head. I give him my phone number, so he can call me with the bill.

He tells me softly that he probably won't even call, as buffing out the damage will cost less than $20.

He was wrong. He called me a few days later. The cost was $5.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out (pardon me while I have a Karate Kid moment), breathe in ...

I was livid with CL, but at the same time, I felt so much pity for her husband. He was absolutely cool about the whole thing, but his ogre wife ...

I've thought over the situation many times. When Tim and I first dated, especially before Rain was born, that was the kind of situation I would've never tolerated (someday I'll tell you about the whole mall/police incident) because I firmly believe in justice. Fair justice. Sure, I made a mistake (I should've firmly shut my car door), but did that merit all the verbal abuse? If she had seen me buckling my kid in (by her own admission, she was watching me), why decide to back out just to prove she had some sort of right-of-way?

There was a time I would not have let her talk trash without openly laughing at her (yes, I've done this, too. Sorry, but when someone acts ridiculous ...).

But, Rain. There is always Rain to consider.

God help me not to make my little peacemaker a bitter woman by example. At the time, all I did was finish buckling Rain up and say calmly, "That lady over there is crazy, and we're going to leave now before she makes us crazy, too."

I smiled and drove off, agitated, but more than that, sad for a decent man.

Peacemaker

2008-12-24T19:56:00.000-08:00

The other day I had this lengthy discussion with Tim, and it was on a topic (to be discussed later) that we had, in one way or another, been talking about for weeks. But the conversation had, overall, been very positive except for that night. So, I went to bed kinda mad. Truth be told, that almost never happens. Tim and I aren't a fighting couple, thank God, so I've gone to bed mad maybe three times in the last six years of our marriage. I hate going to bed mad for so many reasons, but mainly because I don't like to leave ugly things festering all night. I know the next day I'll probably be more mad because I'll have had time to dissect and over analyze every word and fall into madness.

It was no surprise then that the following morning I woke up still miffed by my conversation with Tim. At some point in the night, Rain had left her bed and walked herself to our room. When she does this, Tim will lean over, scoop her up, put her between us, and fall asleep again ten seconds later.

As I laid in bed with my eyes still closed, I could feel Rain stirring. I hoped she and Tim would get up quickly, have breakfast together as usual, and give me a few minutes alone to brood. I waited a minute, but Rain continued to shuffle about and ruffle the sheets. I sighed and opened my eyes.

Rain wasn't wiping the sleep from her eyes at all. She was staring at me. When she saw that my eyes were finally opened, she smiled. A right big smile. Then her face became serious. She looked at me for a moment and stuck her tongue out as far as she could. I'd never seen her do it before, and I snorted. That was all she needed. She stuck her tongue out again, and licked her lips all the way around. She swished her tongue side to side like a frog, and I laughed. It was the first time she had every tried to make a funny face, and I was overly proud about the whole thing. She kept her eyes serious, but once she had me really laughing, she smiled as if she was very pleased with herself.

Tim awoke to me laughing. I'm sure it was the very last sound he thought he'd hear that morning. But Rain made it happen. Just when I think I've reached some kind of boiling point, she cashes in all her cute and cuddly chips. She does something that makes me look at her and think, "You are the very best of me and Daddy, and how can someone wonderful like you be made from anyone but a madly in love pair?" I mean, really, the feelings were all kinds of ooey-gooey. I don't know if she has some knack for self-preservation (like keeping us happily together is in her best interest??), but honestly, it's like she knows just when to whip out the charm and get me feeling all joyous again.

Which is a pretty stinky thing when you've lost sleep all night thinking of ways to be petty. Oh well.

On the upside, Tim & I did resolve our issues that day, and to be honest, if Rain hadn't been so loving that morning, well, I wouldn't have felt much incentive to fix things quickly.

Hmm. From Rainzilla to Rain the Peacemaker? It must be the holidays.

It's Not Easy Being Green

2008-12-01T14:16:00.000-08:00

Before Rain, I was doing pretty well on the Green front: we bought a fuel-efficient car; we maintained the car to minimize wasted fuel; we replaced our light bulbs with energy-efficient ones; we recycled paper & plastic (we didn't have convenient pick-up service in our apartment, mind you); we reused old items in new ways; we purchased eco-friendly cleaning supplies; and so on and so forth.

After Rain's birth, I realized that saving the planet and saving my sanity were dueling efforts. It began with diapers. As much as I adored the idea of using cloth diapers, actually implementing that process was a no-go from the moment I saw what baby poo looked like. Add to the fact that I had no diaper-changing skills to flaunt, and you can understand how I ended up using, I don't know, 100 wipes at every changing.

Next to go was water. Forget about using cold-water detergent anymore, I was in my kitchen running water just to make Rain calm down. She loved the sound of rushing water, and if that meant my whole apartment went afloat just so she could settle down, oh well. After 3 weeks of newborn cries, I would've offered to sacrifice calfs for peace. And I don't even like veal.

If she wanted a bath with lots of water to play with, I was happy to oblige. That meant I could sit next to the tub--actually sit--and she could relax for half an hour.

My next war crime against Earth was electricity. Crying Baby wants a nightlight? You got it. Fan to give you white noise? You got it. Battery-dependent toys? You got it. Now you want to turn the light on and off and on and off? Have fun, sweetie!

Whatever it took to keep Rain from crying was priority number one. We were warming ONE towel in the dryer just to keep her warm and toasty when she got out of a bath.
Why all the fuss? Because Rain was fussy. She cried at every displeasure, and it didn't take but a few weeks of sleepless nights before we thought, "To heck with the planet, I need my mind!" It's hard for childless or parents of easy-going babies to understand, but believe me when I tell you, consistent newborn tears are always followed by consistent new parent tears.

On the 27th, Rain was 18 months old. For months now, her independence has cut down on her cries and neediness. She doesn't need toasty towels and white noise anymore.

Slowly, things are changing. We painted Rain's room with non-toxic, earth-friendly paints, and the recycle bins have reappeared. The energy-efficient laundry detergent graces the shelves once more, and Tim is replacing the light bulbs in our new house with the green kind. So, we're finally going green again.

Except for that diaper thing. Huggies, please.

Regression, Progression

2008-11-20T12:09:00.000-08:00

So, I was sick for 10 days. After that, I went to 2 funerals, and tah-dah, here I am. I know, now you're worried my bad karma is going to get all over you if you keep reading this blog, huh? No worries. I strive for a 100 % karma-free environment in all my blogs; just ask OSHA. Anywhose, the last few weeks have brought a lot of changes, and I wonder where to begin? With Rain? Yes, I think so.

Rain has regressed a bit in the sleep department. About half an hour ago, she fell asleep. She's absolutely beautiful when she sleeps. Her lower lip pouts out, and she looks like a living doll. The fact that she's quiet doesn't hurt, either. When she goes to bed at night, she cuddles her huge stuffed lamb. She buries her face in him, and they snuggle fifty different ways before Rain chooses the best position for optimum comfort. The other night, we got home late, and Rain was angry because Tim wouldn't let her "drive" the car (she likes to sit in the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition, and play the radio). So, Tim had to drag her into the house raving mad. I put her in bed, and she kicked Lamb out. She looked at me all huffy, and really gave Lamb one in the face. I rolled my eyes and waited. As expected, Rain curled up and fell asleep in her blankets within five minutes. By the next night, her and Lamb had made up.

So, overall, I can't complain about the sleep situation. The problem we're having is during daytime naps. When Rain & I got sick a few weeks ago, she started a very bad habit. A lot of kids have a "lovey"; you know, something they cuddle with during naps. Well, for whatever reason, Rain is trying to make her former nursing ground her new lovey. One night as she was coughing and hacking away, she shoved her hand down my shirt, and within a minute, fell asleep. I sort of laughed at the time, thinking it was a one-time event. The problem is, she continued to do it the entire time she was ill and afterwards. I have to pry her off me every day, and it seems like a losing battle.

Don't get me wrong: Rain is not nursing anymore. She has gone over 2.5 months without a feeding. In fact, she was excellent about giving up her life-long routine, and for months, she didn't show any signs of regression. But, she still wants to find comfort there, and I think her illness sort of triggered that neediness.

Not sure how to proceed.

Anyway, Rain has not totally reverted back to babyhood, though. She's painting with watercolors (yep, with a tried-and-true set that comes in a case with a brush; very old school), eating quite well with a fork (ok, so sometimes she has to put penne pasta on the fork with her hand and then eat it), pulling dining room chairs into position for an escape route (she uses our chairs to reach the deadbolt lock on our back door), climbing like a madwoman (she has no issues zipping to the top of our 8-ft ladder), delicately balancing her play blocks (14 stacked on her play table the other day!), and overall trying to ham it up for us.

A few days ago, I pulled out this toy that she used to be terrified of. It's a car that makes all kinds of noise once you shake it up and let it ride across the floor. Well, the more we play with it, the less she seems to be afraid. Still, she gets jittery when I pull it out and sometimes makes a face. So how funny was it when I pulled it out the other day that she tried to use it to scare me? She would run up to me, lay it at my feet, and run off laughing like, "This is gonna be great! Wait 'til you see what it does--you're gonna freak out!" She'd run 1o ft away, hide behind our coffee table, and watch for my big reaction. Of course, she doesn't understand that you have to shake the toy to activate it. So I'm sitting there like, "OK." I shook the toy, released it, and Rain laughed like, "Aren't you freaked out??" Then she'd grab the toy, run up to me, drop it at my feet, and run off again.

We did this eight times.

She laughed just as hard the eighth time as she did the first.

It's progress. Really.

Rain's First Halloween Costume

2008-11-18T07:25:00.000-08:00

For Halloween, my monkey was a monkey (Curious George, to be exact).

May 27, 2025

2008-10-30T12:19:00.000-07:00

Like rain in nature, Rain is both wonderful and terrible in turns. Most of the time she is a comedy gold mine and all about the hugs and kisses. Other times, she gets very, very angry. When she screams, she uses all the power in her lungs. Her body stiffens, her face turns red, she pushes out her lower jaw, and she clenches her fists. During those times, Tim & I comfort ourselves, "Seventeen more years. May 27, 2025, we'll be home free. Just gotta hang tough."

The last night we were in Florida, May 27, 2025, seemed farther away than usual. That night, Tim & I had packed, showered, confirmed our flight schedule, and were ready to go. We figured we'd watch a bit of TV, head to bed, and get up at 4:45 A.M. for our 7:55 A.M. departure. We said goodnight to Grandpa, and relaxed in the guest bedroom.

Now, Grandma/Grandpa live in a gated community of condos. At night, besides the gentle breeze in the palm trees, there is no noise. So, it wasn't long before Tim, Rain, & I fell asleep. I was happy, because we were having a great trip, Rain had behaved marvelously, and we were on our way home.

At 2:00 A.M., things went to pot.

Rain woke up crying. When she does this in the middle of the night at home, we usually cuddle her and that's that. For whatever reason, this was not happening in Florida. Rain quickly went hysterical, and nothing would soothe her. At first we were like, "Aw, sweetie, don't cry! Mommy & Daddy are here; it's gonna be OK ..." When she turned from crying to howling, we said, "That's enough, honey, settle down, please," as we rocked her and walked her around the room. When the howls morphed into outright screams, we freaked.

Grandma goes to bed at 7:00 P.M., and Grandpa falls asleep on a recliner not long after. These good people are not accustomed to hysterical toddlers. WE aren't even used to it, and we've been at it for seventeen months! I was in full panic, but the more we tried to calm Rain down, the more force she put behind her screams. Remember swaying palm trees outside? All I could think was that in very short order the neighbors were going to chop one of them down to use as a battering ram while the rest of the mob waved pink and teal pitchforks (Floridians love color).

We've got to go!" I said, and Tim nodded. We rushed outside (I didn't even bother with shoes) while Rain hollered the whole way. We didn't stay long in front of Grandpa's condo, because the acoustics of the entryway only magnified the screams. We went out the sidewalk. Still too loud. We went past the row of car ports. No good. Tim ended up taking Rain down the street by a pond where only the ducks could bemoan Rain's cries.

I came back inside, exhausted. Istared at the clock, sighed, and packed the only unfinished bag. It was an hour and a half before we had to head to the airport. I finally dozed off.

Tim eventually left the pond (once the ducks began brandishing torches), and by the time he returned to bed, Rain was fast asleep on his shoulder. Grandpa got up a few hours later to make sure we were up, too. Apparently, he hadn't heard anything. We left a few minutes later, with Rain asleep and Grandpa's perfect image of Rain still intact.

Once we pulled out of the parking lot, Rain woke up. She realized she had been moved into her car seat in the middle of the night and was furious. She started to cry, and did so the whole way to the airport.

May 27, 2025 ... is that a Friday? Never too early to plan a celebration ...

Trippin'

2008-10-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

Last week, Tim, Rain, & I went to Florida so Rain could meet her great grandparents. Tim took the entire week off, but we chose to go to FL for only three days. The truth is, Rain is almost a year and a half, so I had to ask myself, "How long can two decent elderly folk deal with a teething toddler?" I know Rain's great grandparents probably wished we had stayed a bit longer, but I had no idea how Rain would behave. It was just too risky. Would she cry over seeing strangers? Would she scream on the plane? Would she tear Grandma & Grandpa's condo apart?

Prior to our departure, the endless opportunities for certain disaster occupied my thoughts. Mixed with other issues on my mind, it was too much. One morning I woke up and informed Tim my right eye was hurting. For no reason at all, the muscles around my eye felt strained and bruised. I would love to tell you that later I found out my eye ache was medical (pinkeye, anyone?), but when my eye later healed after one trip to a Florida beach, well, I knew the injury had been stress-related.

At the time, all I could imagine were the many ways Rain would lose control. Then her great grandparents would see what a terrible job we were doing raising her, and the jig would be up. I felt in my bones they would ask us to leave early or perhaps stay in a hotel, and oh the shame!

Even after Rain behaved well on the plane ride to Florida, my hopes were still modest. The flight was an early one, so Rain was only half-awake for it, anyway. Later at lunch, she showed her great grandma how well she could use a fork and how she was certainly not a picky eater, but I still wouldn't allow myself to believe things might work out. When presents and treats piled around Rain, did she throw them against the wall or horde them? Nope. She showed interest in each and played quietly. Her manners were spot on, and she didn't hide from the new faces at all.
She was good, really good. The one time she had a meltdown, she had it when only the three of us were together at a zoo, so who cares? By the time we packed for our trip home), I thought, "I can't believe we made it--an entire trip without incident!"

Then three hours before our departure ...

The Cow

2008-10-17T08:51:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, Tim went to Wisconsin for a week of training. My instructions to him were simple: don't come back without cheese.

With Wisconsin's reputation for tasty cheese, I don't think I asked for too much. Either come back with cheese, or don't come back at all, right?

Tim is wonderful in many ways, specifically, he is generous, helpful, humble, kind, supportive, patient (boy, is he patient), and very, very smart--he's fabulous, and anybody who knows him would agree, I think. But one thing Tim is not is a realistic shopper.

Especially when we are on vacation, he always thinks there's time later to pick up gifts or souvenirs. At the last minute, he will try to buy whatever the airport shops are selling. This often leads to, um, less than desirable gifts.

Although I only do it in front of Tim, I do an impersonation of Tim's brain. Really. I do this sort of calm, low voice (a mix of Homer & Forrest Gump) that imitates what I believe is Tim's thought process when he makes poor decisions. This may sound mean, but I promise you, Tim laughs whenever I do it and says, "That's exactly what I was thinking!" Unfortunately, you can't hear audio on this, but imagine for a moment as we step into Tim's mind moments before boarding the plane home from Wisconsin:

Got my photo mag, got my computer mag, got my boarding pass. Ready to go ... Wait ... Wait a minute ... Didn't that woman say something to me about cheese? Aw, man, I ain't got no cheese! She's gonna be so mad. She's gonna be so maaad--wait! There's a shop right there! They gotta have cheese. [Desperately searches 2-3 shops for cheese samples]. Man. No cheese. OK, but I can't go back with nothin'. Chocolate! I'm bringing home chocolate. Everybody likes chocolate. Is Wisconsin known for chocolate? Hope so. Cheese & chocolate both start with C. What if she hates it? I gotta bring something else along. Oh, here it is. This will work. It's kind of cute. Yep, this will do.

Tim brought home a cow magnet that said "Wisconsin" on it. A cow magnet. Rain promptly ripped the magnet off it, tore off the bell around it's neck, and tossed the cow away.

She beat Mommy to the punch.

North Korea

2008-10-13T01:48:00.001-07:00

At night, it is easier to sneak out of North Korea than Rain's room. For the first year of her life, she slept in the same room with us, and she has no intention of changing that. Let's not forget that Rain, who had no teeth four months ago, now has SEVEN (with several more pushing through her inflamed gums). She is teething and irritated. So, putting her to bed is a two-step affair.

First, we have to get her in her crib. This is an entirely different process for me than it is for Tim. Tim will cuddle Rain for a few minutes, put her in her crib, and walk out of the room. If Rain cries, tough cookies, because he's not coming back for her. Rain knows this, so she usually cries for less than 1 minute, resigns herself to her fate, and falls asleep. This is why Tim puts Rain to bed 90% of the time.

On the few nights where I have to put Rain to bed, it is pathetic. I don't have the heart to hear her cry, so I usually lay her in her crib and (*blush*) sit next to it while she falls asleep. Even if Rain's eyes are closed for a full minute, if I attempt to leave the room, she knows. At the slightest sound of my departure, her eyelids snap open, and her pupils beam on my coordinates. Tim has oiled the hinges on her bedroom door, but that is of limited help. Most nights, I don't make it to the door before she's on to me. Tim thinks I'm ridiculous to let her be so needy with me. He's totally right, so I've tried to be more like him when it comes to Rain's bedtime. Rain is furious when I do that, and she cries a lot longer after I've put her in her room than when Tim does it.

The second phase happens around 3 or 4 AM. Every night at this time, Rain cries to come to bed with us. Before, we caved pretty easily about this because who wants to deal with that drama at that hour, ya know? But for a week or so, Tim and I tried to commit to putting her back into her crib at night. We kind of had a routine going, but then Rain got sick. Last week, she had a stomach virus sort of thing and cried a lot at night. So, back we were to our old routine.

Since Rain has seemed to be a lot better for the last day or so, I thought it was time to get her back to staying in the crib all night. Welp, I was a bit surprised than to find Tim fiddling with Rain's crib today. Apparently, he felt she was too big for her crib (Rain's is a convertible one), so he converted it to a toddler bed. Basically, he removed one side of her regular crib and put in a low bed rail. The bed rail is only high enough to keep Rain from falling out of bed, but it only fits half of the bed so that Rain can get in and out easily.

Hmm, I thought, surveying the situation. Doesn't that mean Rain will be able to leave the bed herself at night? Sure enough, at 3 AM this morning, I woke up to Rain's crying. I automatically went to her room. The door was shut, and in a bit of humor, Rain was knocking on her door for me to let her out. I opened the door, and like a true soldier, tried to put her back to bed. She was fine about it--as long as I didn't try to leave. After another North Korea escape ten minutes later, I was back in bed trying to get some sleep. I had left Rain's door open this time, figuring she probably wouldn't be up until 7 AM, her usual breakfast time.

Five minutes later, we both wake up to Rain's crying. This time, however, she sounds much nearer than before. Tim got up, and a minute later, returned with a sad package. He had found Rain inching her way down the hall while holding ... her oversized stuffed lamb that she sleeps with every night since she was born. The two had tried to make it to our bedroom while Rain wailed the whole way.

It was too much for us.

Rain is asleep with Tim right now, and as for me? I'm heading to the couch, where all bad defectors go.

Kisses

2008-09-30T12:54:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong. Rainzilla strikes every day. Today, for instance, she quietly pushed her stroller to the edge of the garage, gave it a shove, and watched it race down our steep driveway into the street. As it rolled to certain doom, she growled with glee and stomped her feet.

But, there are also times when Rain surprises me in a good way, too. About two weeks ago, I was resting on my bed. Rain was playing beside me while I hoped she'd take a nap. For no reason, she stopped playing and crawled next to my face. Then, quite seriously, she kissed me full on the lips.

Now, as close as my family is, we don't do that. My brothers and sisters hug a lot and are always saying, "I love you." But, we don't kiss on the lips. Sure, we kiss our mama on the cheek, but that's it.

After Rain kissed me, she stared intently at me for a reaction. I was stunned. I had no idea she would do that. Frankly, I was perplexed, so ... I laughed. I felt bad for a second, because I wasn't sure if that was the reaction she wanted. But, when Rain saw I was laughing, she kissed me again. This time she SMOTHERED me. I couldn't breathe (plus, I was laughing hard), so I begged Tim to peel her off me.

Since then, she's kissed me several times as she giggles and hugs me. The funniest part is each time she does it, she approaches me slowly and seriously, then it's all laughs. So, even though Rainzilla shows up every day growling and stomping ... Rainbow isn't far behind.

Rainzilla & The Saint

2008-09-29T13:06:00.000-07:00

Above, Rain is wearing a "My Name is Not No!No!" shirt. She is sitting next to Buddha--er--I mean Madison. Madi is so very, very low-key that, well, it only makes Rain seem even more high maintenance.
Today Rain & I went for walk with her stroller. No, Rain didn't go for a walk in her stroller, she went for a walk with her stroller. She insisted on pushing the stroller herself the entire time. She has a Jeep stroller, which is really cool, but a bit on the heavy side. If I tried to guide the stroller, she'd scream. So, there we were walking down the street, and Rain is huffing and puffing to keep the stroller going. But, she keeps veering to the right, so we are hitting the curb over and over again (and cars, too, but don't tell the neighbors). She fell on her knees and scraped them no less than four times. Each time she'd screech for just a second, and she'd get back up all tra-la-la everything's daisy. "What's that?" she'd say conversationally."Oh, wow!"
"Honey, let Mommy help you," I said, and tried to guide the stroller. Every time she started crying.
SO STUBBORN!
My niece calls Rain, "Rainzilla." I'd ask her to be more polite, but if the shoe fits ...
The unsung hero in all this is Tim. Tim is the most patient man I know, and for his actions this morning, I will now sing his praises.
Last night, we went to bed at 11:00. Rain seemed fine and her crib, and I fell asleep quickly watching Planet Earth on the Discovery Channel (weird dreams about otters to follow).
5:00 A.M.
At 5:00 in the Ahhh Morning, Rain decided bedtime was over. She wailed for one hour. For one hour, Tim & I tried to soothe her with medicine, ice, food--nothing worked. We were sure it was her teeth again, but nothing would calm her down. I was falling asleep trying to get Rain to quit crying. Tim, who had to go to work this morning, said, "I'll walk her around." He took her out of the bedroom, and I assumed they would fall asleep on the couch together as they do on rough nights. Not long after, Rain stopped crying, and I fell asleep.
I woke up a bit before 8:00. Turned out, Rain never went to sleep. She just just stopped crying. Tim had decided to start his morning (make coffee, eat breakfast, water the lawn, and the like) since Rain wouldn't go to sleep.
Are you kidding? I was so upset with Rain, who by the way, seemed more than happy to have Daddy as her playmate for an extra 3 hours this morning. I also felt terrible that Tim had taken it upon himself to keep Rain happy.
The minute Tim left for work (tired, I'm sure), I looked at Rain and said, "You're going to bed."
Rainzilla did her best to get me to let her watch The Wiggles, but I wasn't having it. I put her in a bear hold, and she eventually went to sleep (or passed out, not sure).
You know, my friend just had a baby last week. I visited them at the hospital, and there the little girl was, so cute and small. The parents were very happy and proud, of course. It made me wonder about the possibility of having another kid. But even as I held that sweet little baby in my arms, I recalled Jeff Foxworthy's warning:
Godzilla used to be a little lizard, too.

Where Have I Been?

2008-09-22T12:30:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I was AWOL. Please, allow me to explain.

This past Saturday, a very kind lady from our church threw a housewarming party for me & Tim. It is the first of two parties. Why two? To be honest ... the situation is delicate. We originally thought we'd have one open house/housewarming for all of our friends, family, and church. But, the day after the hostess gave us extra invitations to pass out to friends (she'd already given invites to our church members), she received some very bad family news (the kind that makes the mouth drop open). So, there Tim and I were, completely unsure of how to handle things. Should we urge her to cancel the whole thing? Postpone it? In the end, we decided not to burden this nice lady with more stress. We decided we'd go through with the open house, and have a second smaller thing later on. The whole situation, especially the fact that our house was entirely unrepresentable for 1 party, let alone 2, had me ruffled.

Our house, since we've moved in, has looked like a garage sale. Everything is mixed up, and boxes are half-opened. In the weeks leading up to Saturday's party, when anybody asked how things were coming along, I smiled and said, "We're getting there." Thing is, I didn't tell them that "there" was "buried alive." To see chaos in every room was extracting my inner Martha.

"Shelves! Shelves! We need more shelves!" I'd cry, but no matter how many Home Depot & IKEA trips we made, it was never enough.

Around this time, a funny thing began to happen. My hands, randomly throughout the day, would get that "pins and needles" feeling. At first, I thought I was having a case of carpal tunnel. I mean, I had been painting rooms, assembling furniture, cleaning--my paws were worn out. But then, the tingling feeling started happening more and more and for longer periods of time. In fact, I woke up one night with both arms in painful tingles.

Tim, observing me as I reorganized books, removed the dry cleaning from the metal hangers they come on to regular ones, and ate dinner in front of the computer just so I could finish editing a newsletter, said, "You have, like, OCD. Why don't you take a break?"

But, how was the laundry going to get done? Or dinner? Or the thank you cards we owe a few people? Did anyone order tickets yet for our Florida trip? Has anybody seen Rain??

During this whole time, Rain had been irritated with me. She wanted to play, read books, go outside--all the things we did at our apartment--and I was over there organizing color swatches so we could paint the home office.

All the while, my body has been showing warning signs. When my back would give out, I would tell Tim, "Honey, just hand me something I can work on while I'm sitting," instead of taking a break.

The thing is, I can't stop myself. It's not Tim, and it's not Rain. If I'm not doing two or three things at a time, I feel like I'm not getting anything done. Maybe I have ADD or something.

Anyway, so how did Saturday's party go?

Fine, of course. It went fine. That's the thing: during the party I was thinking, "Why did I make such a big deal about this?" Everyone I know is nice, so of course, they were nothing but polite about the house. Why was I working like Simon Cowell was coming to rate my place?

This week, Tim will be out of town for work. His final instructions to me were, "I want you to do something for me while I'm gone: do not work on the house. Go do something fun. Take a break. I want this place to look the same when I get back, OK?"

That's sad. When someone has to tell you to take a break, things have gotten out of hand. So, here I am. What should I do first? Order something off of Amazon?

Of course. But I'll have to read email, flip through a People magazine, and listen to the This American Life podcast at the same time, too. Sorry. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Hardcore

2008-09-07T23:56:00.000-07:00

Rain is hardcore.

And not because when she got 2 shots last Friday, she didn't cry.

And not because she shook off the fact that she scratched her face with a DVD case; slipped and slammed her face into a door; and didn't throw a fit when her two new teeth cut through her gums--and that was all in one day.

Rain is hardcore because although I was sure she would never forgive me or do anything but rage while we tried to wean her, she has proved herself to be made of tougher stuff.

Since last Friday when we started this whole thing, we've both had our moments, to be sure. The first few mornings were hard. Rain cried Sunday morning from 4:30 onwards and woke up every 30 minutes while Tim carried her and tried to calm her (I was sequestered in another room). The next morning, bleary-eyed, he asked, "So, did you hear her at all last night?"

"Are you kidding? I was staring up at the ceiling all night. My chest, back, and side were hurting, and listening to her cry was the worst," I said.
But besides a few times where she almost fell off the wagon, she's been fantastic. Today is Day 9, and she's sort of just accepted that things have changed.

I have mixed feelings about breastfeeding, as I've said from the beginning. I know there are moms-to-be out there who want to know how things really go down with breastfeeding after you bring that kiddo home from the hospital. You're going to find out anyway, right? So, here's the deal, naked but true:

The Bad News

1. Breastfeeding may be ease-as-cheese for some new moms to learn, especially if their moms were all tree-huggin' woodsy nude colonist hippie types who were all exposed to breastfeeding as children, but it was HARD for me to learn. My mom came from the formula generation, and breastfeeding just seemed to risky to her (what if the baby doesn't get enough milk?). I had no instincts about it, and it took me months (three or four) to feel entirely confident about it. The first month was torture, as I endured much pain/embarrassment trying to get a decent technique going.

2. Shameless. After delivering a baby while naked in a room full of strangers, you'd think I'd have no shame left to speak of. Whatever shriveled bit of pride managed to crawl out of the delivery room was strangled during my first months of breastfeeding. Rain was hungry all the time, and that meant I had to be ready to feed her whenever and wherever we were. In the middle of dinner, at a movie, in a store--wherever we were, I had to find a semi-private, clean space to feed her. The added stress of avoiding attention only made nursing more difficult and uncomfortable.

3. Besides plumbers, only new moms know the evils of leaking. Breast pads are helpful, but it's only a matter of time before you forget an "accident" happens. An accident?? That's for, like, kindergarten when you wet your pants!

The Good News

1. Initially, breastfeeding helped me lose weight. Now, it's all gotta come from hard work (sigh).

2. This is the straight up truth: for the first year of Rain's life, she was never, ever sick. Not even once. Yeah, she got feverish when she teethed, but she never had earaches, stomach troubles, skin issues--nothing. Obviously, Rain was able to stay healthy in part because she wasn't exposed to daycare germs, but I know my antibodies had something to do with it, too. She was around a lot of people all of the time and managed to avoid illness. True story.

3. Ok, once you get the hang of nursing it is convenient. And the sooner you get over the shyness of feeding your kiddo in a public setting, the happier you'll be. Honestly, I'm ashamed to admit, I was always sort of disgusted by breastfeeding when I was single. I just didn't get it. But once I got used to it, I was like, "Who cares? I'm not showing any part of my body in public, so really, who cares what I'm doing?" I got so good at it, in fact, and I'm so not joking here, I could do it while having a conversation with someone (as we strolled along) who had no idea what was going on. I could hold Rain just right with a strategically placed blanket that people thought Rain was just sleeping. Um, no. It was a necessity, I'm telling you. If I had gone into a locked room every time Rain had to nurse, I would never have gotten anything done.

4. And finally, the best reason for nursing Rain was this: I don't know if Rain will ever be as safe and happy as she was when I held her. I used to tell Tim, "You know, she looks at me for a few minutes, closes her eyes, and as she goes to sleep I just know. I know she's safe, and I'm at that moment providing everything for her." It was so weird but very calming. Like most babies, Rain would fall asleep nursing, and watching her breathe, peaceful and perfect, I felt very ... whole.

Wow

2008-09-05T15:47:00.000-07:00

Ok, not many things make me feel overwhelmed and all excited and inspired, but here it is:

Today, I went to the ol' post office box, and not only were there Pokey Notes waiting for Raeleigh but donations, too. YOU GUYS ROCK.

Seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you.

For those who haven't had a chance to visit the site (racetoraeleigh.com) or have been on the fence about it, please, please take the time to send a Pokey Note or donation. 100% of donations will go to Raeleigh. Those of you who have had to deal with long-term illness in your families know how difficult and expensive medical treatment is to take and endure.

Thanks, again--woo-hoo!

Queen Bee

2008-09-05T05:54:00.000-07:00

We are in the process of weaning Rain (oh you know there's gonna be a blog about that later), so this is not the time to be teaching her new rules or correcting her. She's teething (3 coming in on the top) as well, so she's in no mood for shenanigans. Basically, for the past week I've been letting her eat whatever she wants with abandon ("Those round salty things, honey? Those are called 'chips.' Good, huh?").

Yesterday, there was 1 chocolate pudding snack left, so I pulled out 2 spoons: 1 regular spoon and one plastic baby spoon. We always share because Rain never eats a whole container by herself.

I put Rain in her high chair, and I filled up her baby spoon. Rain is pretty good with her spoons, so she took it from me and fed herself. I dipped her spoon again, and again, she took it from me and fed herself. After she got the pattern, I took my spoon and took a bite. I put it down, picked up her spoon, and handed it to her. We did this for a minute, taking turns eating, as Rain eyed the situation.

Finally, she smiled very sweetly and put her spoon down. She looked at me, and very gently took away my spoon, and gave me the baby spoon to use.

"Rain, that's Mommy's spoon," I said. She continued eating, and I was all, "What are you, queen bee now, too, like Mommy??"

Pah!

If we're both queen bees, I can just hear Tim: "What am I, then?! A worker, a drone?"

*Awkward silence*

The Natives are Restless

2008-09-04T07:52:00.000-07:00

You want sex ed for teens? I got it right here:

Kids kill.

Toddlers are out to kill themselves and you, and is that what you'd rather be dealing with instead of picking a dress for prom? Go back to your texting!

Five minutes ago, in all seriousness, this is what Rain and me were doing:

Rain was flat on her stomach. I was on top of her, on all fours, shoving my finger in her mouth. She, in turn, was slapping her arms around and jerking her head side to side, so I couldn't fish out the Styrofoam peanuts she was eating. Do you think me saying, "But you almost swallowed a shirt pin this morning!!" did any good?

I wriggled out half a peanut, and Rain took off for the kitchen. She's mad I've got half her meal, so she immediately pulls out a kitchen chair and climbs on top. We have told her many, many, many and more times not to climb on the table.

I quickly removed her from the chair, put it back in its place, and reminded her that, no, we don't climb chairs on my watch.

Rain, in probably the funniest thing I've seen her do lately, raced around the table, and in one swift move, threw back a chair, jumped on it like she was sliding into home base, and gripped the chair like, "Bring it, Mom!"

It was so fast and perfectly performed that I turned my face to the ceiling, and while silently laughing said, "Rain! Hehehe ... We don't climb chairs, I told you! hehehe ... Stop and get off ..."

Sigh. I'm just not fit for this job.

In closing, I'll part with the words my four-year-old niece said. When asked, "What do toddlers do?"

She answered right away. "Destroy things!"

Feeling Like a Wean-er

2008-08-30T23:26:00.000-07:00

In 4 hours, at 5:30 A.M., Rain will have gone two days without nursing.

We've decided to wean her, and I feel--what's the word?--oh yeah, nauseous.

They forgot to mention the whole weaning part in the breastfeeding class I took before Rain was born.

If I had any sense back then, I would've asked my instructor this very basic, almost obvious question: how will a child react when you take away the most comforting thing she knows which you have trained her to use since the day she was born?

If I had given it any thought, I would've realized right away that the child will either try to kill herself or make me want to kill myself.

For almost 48 hours, I've had little contact with Rain. Oh, we've been in the same room most of the time, but my sister-in-law (brave soul), my sister, and Tim have all entertained Rain and distracted her to keep her from focusing on the sinister truth: her nursing days are over.

Rain's been absolutely awesome about things for the most part. She's accepted all the constant attention and not made too much of a deal of being passed around. For a few minutes today, though, things almost went to pot. We were playing in her room, and she accidentally fell against my chest. The lights in her eyes flicked on like, "Hey ... wait a minute! Those are mine!"

She started clawing at my shirt, frantic, as if she knew what game we had all been playing at for the past two days. She was a screamin' and cryin', so what did we do?

What all modern parents do, of course: PACIFY. We threw her into a bathing suit and off she went to her new baby pool in the backyard. She quickly forgot about Mommy, but with another 24 hours to go to get 3 days of weaning completed, Mommy sure didn't forget about her.

Compassion (final note)

2008-08-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

One last thing. Today, I ate lunch with my sister in her home with her 2 kids. The youngest is Madi (pictured above), who as I've mentioned before, has unfortunately taken a beating from Rain now and then.

Anyway, my sister served everyone a plate. Madi (who is about 7 0r 8 months old) had already eaten, so she was sitting in her little Bumbo seat on the floor. After everyone started to eat, it was clear Madi wasn't too happy about missing out on an extra meal. So, Rain scooped up some corn in her own baby spoon, walked across the room, and put the spoon in Madi's mouth. Not only was it pretty cute to see, but Rain didn't realize that because she was carrying the spoon like a toddler (it was flopping around all over the place), by the time she got to Madi, it was empty.

She kept going back and forth bringing an empty spoon to Madi. Poor Madi! That kid has thighs like turkey legs from the state fair--so chubby and cute--so she had this look on her face like, "Where's the food, Fool?" Then Rain picked up Madi's sippy cup and tried to let her drink. Sure, her aim was all wrong and again Madi was tortured, but Rain's finally learning some compassion!

Compassion

2008-08-26T15:26:00.000-07:00

I've never heard of a decent parent who had to sit down with her kid and say, "Son, have I ever told you about love? Well, love means ..." Kids figure it out on their own, you know? As long as they see it, they sort of make their own definitions of what love is and isn't.

Same goes for compassion. Before Rain was born, I thought a while a bout how to teach her to be compassionate. I'll have to show her, I figured, but how? When?

I talked to Tim about it (who, by the way, is compassionate by nature ... the rest of us have to work at it), and he agreed that we'd have to show hospitality, generosity, and concern often, especially in our home, to teach Rain.

Maybe our plan was a good one, but it certainly wasn't thorough. I figured Rain would start noticing things later on, and we'd just have to wait to see if any of our modeling "took." But children are far more clever than that.

Yesterday, Rain found her doll which I had packed away. Rain has only one doll, and it was given to her by a friend of ours. She said it was her doll as a child (she's a teen now), but that it looked so much like Rain, she had to give it to her. Well, yesterday the doll came out of the box it was packed in. Prior to yesterday, Rain had hardly paid the doll any attention. She played with if for a few minutes when she first received it, but that was about it.

Well, Rain picked up the doll and carried it--gently, mind you--to the guest bedroom. She put it on the bed, climbed on top as well, and sat next to it. There was a toy piano there, and Rain played, as if trying to entertain the doll. Afterwards, she carried it into her bedroom. Since then, Rain has carried, cuddled, and loved on the doll the way we have done to her many, many times.

Kids know. They are constantly watching and learning long before we're aware, and long after we've noticed. It's freaky.

As a final tidbit, the other day, my sister-in-law graciously offered to watch Rain all day (from 9 to 6--and she has a 3-year-old son and a daughter a month older than Rain, for crying out loud), so I could finish painting Rain's room. Tim picked Rain up, and afterwards gave me a full account of how she did.

The good news was Rain had behaved fantastically. She ate well, played well, and napped well. Awesome.

There was only one bit of interesting news to report. Around 4:00, when she normally takes her nap, Rain walked to the front door. She just stood there, staring at the door. She began to whimper, probably wondering where I was and who would put her down for a nap.

Well, her cousin Celeste walked up to Rain, patted her head, and sang, "Roo, roo, roo," which is the chant her mother cuddles her with when she's sad. They held each other for a bit, and Rain settled down.

Who's teaching who, I wonder.

Later, Mom

2008-08-25T16:10:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, Rain surprises me. Ok, she surprises me a lot, but I mean in a good way, too. During the past week, I've unpacked a lot of Rain's toys. She hasn't seen them in months, so I was curious to see if she'd recognize them. Most of them she did, but that wasn't the fun part.

Toys that she couldn't figure out how to use before, she picked up and tah-dah! She put 'em together and took 'em apart like, "This is so ... infantile." She's right: she's a toddler now and needs something more than stacking rings. She even sat on top of her elephant rocking toy and started riding it like a BMX bike. Previously, she never sat on it for longer than a minute, and I had to have both hands on her.

Yesterday was the most surprising.

See, Rain was born on a Sunday. And the very next Sunday, we took her to church to show her off (c'mon, I'd been working on her for 9 months, better believe I showed her off). Since then, we've taken her every week. For the first few months, she just slept or cried during church. Then she took a liking to the preacher, and for a few more months, she did her best to sit up and get his attention. Once she learned to crawl, the game was up. I practically had to manhandle Rain to keep her from crawling under the pews. Three weeks ago, she learned how to hop over them.

Then a funny thing happened. Two weeks ago, my nephew and niece started to go to Bible class together. Rain stayed with me every week, and I didn't even realize she noticed that her cousins were off doing something different than she was.

Yesterday, we went to church, and before things got rolling, I was searching the floors for a shoe Rain had lost (by "lost," I mean purposefully removed and hid). I got distracted, and after a minute, I ran into Tim. I said, "Rain's not with you?" So, we did the parenting hustle, but couldn't find her in the auditorium where she normally plays.

We found her ... in the preschool classroom. The teacher said Rain walked in and sat next to her cousins. The teacher was a bit puzzled, but gave Rain a coloring sheet anyway. Rain colored quietly, and that's what she was doing when I found her. I said hello to her from the door, though I didn't go in. Rain stayed in her seat. Don't ya know, that kiddo stayed in class the entire time? The teacher said she never cried or tried to leave or anything. The kids in class said Rain loved the singing part and danced herself silly.

When class ended, I met Rain at the door. She acknowledged me with a hug to my legs, but that was it. She ran down the hall to play with her cousins.

And, don't laugh, but, well, I was standing there, and I sort of felt a little tug at the marble heart. She's a growin', and doesn't need me to be there for every single thing. It's totally cool.

...

I'm fine, no really, just have dust in my eyes, must be allergies ...

Better Days

2008-08-21T08:47:00.000-07:00

After Rain's meltdown yesterday, it's hard to feel like better days are ahead. But, after only a few hours, she was back to normal. So, I made her & Syrene their first s'mores. It was a sort of peace offering, in the hopes we could move on. Rain, as expected, loved it (see above), and I was glad just to be on good terms again.

Later that night, we went to church. Rain was playing on a pew, slipped a bit, and bumped her head on the pew back. I thought, "Here it comes. The scream fest is about to start all over again," because Rain never misses an invitation to a pity party. My mom saw her hit her head, too, and we both watched her for the dreaded response.

Rain bent over, touched her hand to her head, and said, "Ow."

That was it. Now that's somethin' to keep a soul peaceful.

Boxing Day: Not Just for Canadians

2008-08-20T15:00:00.000-07:00

There's no reason why anyone should stay in an abusive relationship. If you're in an abusive relationship, you don't "have" to stay.

Unless the abuser is your kid.

Then you stay. It's the law.

Round 1

Yesterday, Rain beat me up. I'm not proud I got smacked down by a toddler, but there it is. I was holding her on my hip as I took away some contraband she had in her hand. I seriously can't remember if it was a rock, pencil, or stolen iPod because in a moment, as you'll see, she knocked me senseless. Anyway, when I pulled the object away--whatever it was--she started flapping about. She jerked her body backwards (the typical toddler arched back) in disapproval. This wouldn't have been a problem, except when she came back towards me, she knocked her head into my cheek and eye. Her skull got me right on my cheek bone and eye.

It hurt. Real bad like. I had to kneel to avoid dropping Rain on the floor. Her forehead was red, but was she crying? Nope.

First of all, Rain's head is ROCK solid. (FYI: regardless of what our parents claimed, there's almost no way kids will ever "crack their heads open." Trust me, Rain's tried).

Second, Rain was too busy staring at me. She was fascinated by my pain/anger.

There I was trying to keep her safe, and she had hit me! Ok, sure, it was probably an accident, but if she hadn't thrown a fit, she wouldn't have slammed her head into my eye. My eye!

I was holding the side of my face, and giving her a "See what you did??" look. She knew I was hurtin', and that she had done something very wrong. She walked away at first like, "Don't care 'cause I'm mad at you." Still sitting on the floor, I turned my back to her. I wanted her to know she'd caused me pain. When I peeked, I saw Rain had grabbed hold of a foot ladder I had been using to paint a shelf. I guess she figured, "You're going to turn your back on me? Well, then, I'll climb this ladder you're always taking away!"

I kept my back turned as I rubbed my face. Finally, Rain came toddling over. For a few moments, she sat next to me. She was kind of sympathizing and seemed a tad remorseful. After five seconds of humanity, she realized she was a toddler with short-term memory loss, and was all, "Hey, is that your laptop open over there?" The glowing screen was too much for her. She was up and out in a second, assumably to beat my laptop.

Round 2

I've been told by my sister that when Rain gets mad at her older cousin Syrene (who is almost 5)--you know, when they fight over toys and the like--that Rain takes it out on Syrene's little sister Madi. This has happened about 3 or 4 times, but I've never seen it myself.

Until today.

Today Rain and Syrene were playing together (my sister was out on an errand). Most of the time, they have a lot of fun together. Eventually and inescapably, they'll decide that there's only one cool toy in the room, and they must both play with it at the same time. At this point, I usually check my pockets for what kind of parental phrases I might have handy.

"Why don't we take turns?" Check.
"Toys are meant to be shared." Check.
"If you don't learn to share, no one will want to play with you." Check.

I was bouncing Madi on my leg when Syrene decided to hit Rain to get a toy. Before I could intervene, Rain hit Syrene back. I was a bit surprised (mind you, Tim & I never hit each other & Rain isn't allowed to watch TV, so I was a bit, "Where did you learn that from?"), but still, I was determined to end the madness.

Well, now arms were flying, and somehow Rain seemed to get that she was in no way going to whip up on an almost-five-year-old. So, she turned around and SMACKED Madison on the head. I'm thinking:

1. How does Rain know that hurting Madison is like hurting Syrene? Isn't that a little too clever? In a sinister sort of way?

2. Stop!

At this point, I switched right into intinct mode. Forget the parenting books. War manuals do you no good when you're in the trenches. I was so instinctively mad at Rain for hitting an infant that I took her hand, and said, "NO!" with Death in my voice.

Rain quickly raised her hand again and hit Madison. I grabbed Rain's hand, and with all the sadness building up in me, I smacked her hand and said, "I SAID 'NO'."

We stared at each other for a moment. Rain was shocked (I've never hit her before), and I was mad. More than that, I was so, so, so very sad that I had to put the smack down on Rain. But I promised myself a long time before Rain was born, that no matter what, if I have to chose between being her therapist-friend or parent, I was going to have to suck it up and be a mom.

I should've just stayed mad.

The minute Rain saw that change in my eyes--from anger to sadness--my advantage was over. She got all huffy, walked off, flung herself on the carpet, and gave me a sassy look.

"Don't hit Madison," I told her again, trying to sound firm.

If you've ever seen a Wallace & Gromit flick--the clay animation stuff--then you know how expressive eyes can be. Gromit doesn't talk; it's all in the eyes. Anyway, if you've seen Gromit in action, then you know what it's like to deal with a toddler. They search your eyes for all kinds of information and offer the same in return.

Well, I could tell from Rain's eyes that she knew I was defending Madi. She huffed for half a minute longer, then begged to be carried.

Neither of us raised a white flag, to be sure, but we did opt for a truce.

Monkey & (Wo)Man

2008-08-15T23:47:00.000-07:00

Monkey

Sometimes I wonder how a child ever grows up to be an adult. A creature whose life policy is to identify items by eating them first would seem to have little chance of surviving. In the last week, Rain has:

1. Eaten petroleum jelly

2. Chewed 6 cents in change, a screw, and plastic wiring (she did, however, turn down vanilla yogurt)

3. Climbed a large roll of bubble wrap, a free-standing utility shelf, and a stack of bricks

I have a rock collection on the kitchen counter from all the contraband I've confiscated from Rain's cheeks and hands. Thank goodness she doesn't have pockets.

(Wo)Man

Just when I think, "Wow, my kid has absolutely no life skills," Rain will work some magic. In the last two weeks, she has:

1. Done some Moonwalking. She smiled at me, and on her first try, walked smoothly backwards halfway across the room like, "Who knew this thing went in reverse??"

2. Tried to sing. The other night we were at church, and loud enough for everyone to hear, she started to kinda sing. She held out some notes throughout an entire verse of a song and was so proud of herself. While I'm on the subject of music, let me just say this: Rain will have so much more rhythm than her parents. When I turn on the radio, she doesn't dance or bob her head until the right song comes on. And when she does bob her head, it's not toddler-like (awkward jerking or whatnot). She does it too cool like, "Yeah, man, keep that beat going. Why don't you lay that track over some Veggie Tales and make me a remix?" The first time I saw her jam like that I laughed and laughed because she looked like a teenager. Then I remembered that some day she'd actually be a teenager. Party over.

3. Shown a little love. I've been painting/cleaning our new house all week. Sometimes I want to pass out on the floor from the work (and the fumes). I was taping down a door the other day, when Rain walked up to me. After observing a minute, she picked up a piece of tape and stuck it gently on the window. She looked at me to verify that this was a good place and, well, it was a little sweet. When I cleaned the windows later, guess who had a paper towel to help Mommy? If only Tim was so enthusiastic ...

4. Fine-tuned her lunch etiquette. I handed Rain her lunch yesterday, and I got a precious, "Tank Yoo." Today she tried to poor her own drink. It was a disaster but a decent try.

I guess what I'm saying is, in the battle of Baby vs. Beast, Baby is in the lead overall.

For now.

Belly Button

2008-08-12T14:38:00.000-07:00

Today, Rain found her belly button. She stared at the little hole, poked at it, stared at it some more, and probably realizing it was permanent, looked up sadly at me and said,

"Oh no."

Don't worry, little Rainbow, there are far more cosmetically frightening things in the world:
http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-Mommy-Michael-Alexander-Salzhauer/dp/1601310323/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1218577348&sr=8-1

Tank Yooo

2008-08-11T00:54:00.000-07:00

Thanks to those of you who've taken the time to visit racetoraeleigh.com; I'll post updates as we go along. Thanks again!

In other news ...

Since birth, Rain has communicated largely by grunting approval/disapproval and crying. My niece, who is about 8 months old, has made all kinds of babbles since she was born. Rain was never like that. Her baby book had a place every month to update "New Words I Learned," and I felt like writing, "See previous month." How many variations of "Ahhhh" could there be?

Then came the slow interest in verbiage. Rain started with "Da-ee" ("Daddy") and "Ma!" A few weeks ago she added things like "Oh!" and "Oh, wow!" To hear her make words was surprising and weird. Then about two weeks ago, Rain didn't seem satisfied with the basics anymore. She looked as if she was concentrating on the sounds coming out of my mouth. She would point to a light, and I would say, "Light." Even though she would answer, "Ga," every time she saw a light she would say, "Ga." I was happy that at the very least she was consistent.

Then 3 days ago, it happened. This is exactly the way it went down:

Rain fell asleep in her crib at 9:00. At 4 A.M., she started crying in her bedroom. Tim brought her to me, and I fell asleep holding her. At 7:00 (her usual wake-up time), Rain sat up in bed. We opened our eyes and stared at her. She pointed to the bed and said very clearly, "What is it?"

Tim and I stared at each other. Very slowly, Tim said, "Um, a blanket?"

Rain considered this for a second and said, "Oh."

Is this the way it happens?? She goes to sleep at 9:00, and somehow 10 hours later she speaks English? This was no fluke, either. Since then, Rain has pointed to things over and over to ask, "What is it?" or "What's that?" She's clearly delighted that we're communicating on some level.

The same day, "What is it?" appeared, Rain and I were playing with blocks in her room. As usual, I handed her blocks as I said, "Thank you" and "You're welcome." After a minute, she handed me a block, and as sweetly as possible, said, "Tank yooo."

My kid just used a polite phrase? Tissue, please.

Life in Italy

2008-08-04T11:07:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, my mom was kind enough to watch Rain for me while I finished painting Rain's bedroom window. Several hours later, I returned to pick my kiddo up. I stepped into my mom's hallway and Rain stood there with her back towards me. She was babbling to my mom, and then she turned around and saw me. She smiled and ran towards me with her arms open.

In the past year, there were times when I thought I was the worst mom ever. I wasn't cut out for parenting, and why, oh why, did Rain have to scream about everything? But, there she was, running with her arms open, and I thought, "Wow, we're not perfect, but we still love each other!" I mean, how many times in my life is someone going to be so happy to see me that (s)he comes running at me with arms open? The only person who has ever run at me with so much enthusiasm before is my ma's shih tzu. Go figure.

We love each other, and with all the insanity that plagues our house daily, we keep afloat. But there are new parents out there, just like me, who are dealing with a lot more than just tantrums and diapers. As the writer in my previous blog entry so eloquently described, these parents are learning to love Holland when they had planned on a trip to Italy.

Before Rain was born, I pondered the terrible what if. What if she was sick or had a disability? What if I couldn't help her with it? Will I have what it takes to be her mom? I tried not to think on these things too long, because the answers were very, very frightening. God knows I don't have the spiritual and emotional maturity to hang on like many special parents do.

And then Rain was born. She was strong and beautiful. I, for the time being, had nothing to worry about. But, I did often wonder about those parents out there. The ones who were all dressed for Italy ...

Not too long ago, a fellow writer friend of mine (children's author Diane Roberts), showed me a photo of her granddaughter. Raeleigh ("Ray-lee") is about 5 months older than Rain, and in the photo, she had the same fair skin & wispy hair I had become familiar with.

Raeleigh, though, has what are called hemangiomas. Many of you have probably seen hemangiomas (they're common birthmarks) or had them yourselves. They often disappear after a kid turns two and are only a vague childhood memory. But Raeleigh's are a different, more aggressive kind. Hers have overtaken her chin and sides of her face so much so that she requires chemo and steroids to treat them.

Weeks afterwards, I thought about Raeleigh. Here her parents were constantly monitoring their baby's trachea tube, and all I had to deal with was Rain's passing hysterics. They were financing expensive medical treatments, and I was handing over a $15 co-pay for Rain's "wellness" visits. They celebrated every delayed developmental milestone, because hey, the milestone was met. We got to check of Rain's milestones as if the baby books were written especially with her in mind.

The point is, whether I acknowledge it every day or not, I have been enjoying a fabulous time in Italy. In the meantime, Raeleigh has been learning the ropes of Holland. Babies, whether because of sicknesses, disabilities, or impairments of any kind, are making it work in Holland. Italy and Holland are both beautiful, but the people of Holland deserve a hat-tippin', a kudos, a salute--something.

So.

Here we are.

Can you sense a favor comin', because I'm about ready to ask it?

Please, please, when you have a moment later today, or tonight after the kids are in bed, or tomorrow morning when you're sipping your coffee, check out something my sister & I built for Raeleigh:

http://www.racetoraeleigh.com/

It's nothin' flashy & we're still workin' out the kinks, but I truly have this flicker, this bit of hope, that everyone is going to help this one baby out. I know, I know: there are so many people that need help, so why this girl?

Because she's one you can help. She's not a nameless face. She just an innocent kid who got dealt a harsh hand. This is the first time I've ever used my God-given fingers to draw/write without benefiting myself financially in any sense because I believe people want to do right by this kid, if I can show them how. And, come on--who doesn't love turtles?

Holland, and Other Great Places

2008-08-01T13:15:00.000-07:00

A few months back, I mentioned that I'm working on a very special project. Before I explain what it is, I'd like to share this piece written years ago:

Welcome to Holland
By Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning for a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Colosseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go.

Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland!!!" you say. "What do you mean Holland!!! I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they've haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would have never met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you can catch your breath, you look around...and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills...and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things... about Holland.

The End of an Error--er--Era

2008-08-01T00:08:00.000-07:00

Tim has been sick for two days. He hasn't been sick in a while, and this time he went down bad. He has chills, fever, soreness and the like. He's been asleep most of the time, but today, unfortunately, he had to watch Rain so we could get our apartment keys turned in on time (today at 5:00). He was bad off and mumbled several times, "I'm sorry I'm sick. I wish I could be more help to you."

St. Tim continued to do his best, though several times he ended up face down on the floor. No, really: he found a blanket, placed it in the middle of our old bedroom, and slept on it as necessary. I told him several times not to do so much, but to tell you the truth, it was hard as all get out to clean & watch Rain at the same time. Because all of the child safety devices in our apartment had been removed, she kept trying to plug in the vacuum cleaner, stick a screwdriver in another socket, and pull any remaining cords. She hunted down scraps of paper and metal to eat and screamed to the heavens whenever we took them from her. The entire time, Tim was half-dead, and I was wondering how all three of us ever lived together in such a small apartment.

The apartment is what's really on my mind, though. I mean, Tim & I moved into this apartment complex when we got married. Rain's entire first year of life played out in our tiny 1-bedroom apartment. The neighborhood was nice (in fact, if we could've afforded to buy a home there, we probably would've), and the maintenance guy was awesome. But the same little woods/creek that gave the complex some charm was also the reason it was cursed with spiders and the like. Don't even get me started on the mosquitoes ... Looking back, we should've totally moved out a long time ago, but hey, it was home. Anyway, I was a little nostalgic when we left today. I told Tim I would lock up. I said goodbye to the kitchen, shot some video of the place, locked the front door, and headed to the car--where Tim, with bags under his eyes and haggard expression, was sitting in the front seat with a crying Rain on his lap.

Nostalgia over.

HGTV, Call Me!

2008-07-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

This past week we (Tim & I, I mean) have squeezed every last bit of life out of our carcasses to move out of our apartment. Between painting the new place and scrubbing down the old one, we have torn ourselves up to make this move happen. At one point, I was on all fours on the carpet telling my sister, "My lower back gave out!" My 4-year-old niece, thinking I was playing around, hopped on top of me. I slammed face first into the ground as my fingers bent awkwardly beneath me. Through a mouthful of carpet I said, "And now my fingers are sprained."

I resurrected many times after incidents like that because, hey, the closets won't paint themselves, right? Every day as we went to sleep at 2 or 3 A.M. and got up at 6:30, we comforted ourselves with, "It's almost over, it's almost over ..." 6:30 would come, and Rain would wake up all, "Hey, guys! So later I was thinking we could go to the park or that fun bookstore where they leave all those books on low shelves for me, but first, breakfast!"

Her schedule never changed, so she couldn't understand why Mommy's favorite new game was, "I'll Lie Here and You Can Crawl on My Head for All I Care" TM. At times I felt like a terrible mom because I would fall asleep randomly during the day, and I had to drop Rain off at my sister's a lot so I could work on the house. My email is backed up and bills are slipping through the cracks 'cause I'm just too tired to deal. Today we're going to clean up our old place, and hopefully we'll be ready to turn in our keys tomorrow night.

What I need to do is get on one of those HGTV design shows & let the professionals deal with this. You know, those shows where they redo someone's house because the person is like a single mom who is a purple heart war vet and now runs an orphanage. The only problem is I need a warm/fuzzy story, so that I get my name put at the top of the list. But without a terrible disease, bankruptcy, or orphan to my name, my chances of a home makeover are slim.

Unless ...

Do they have a show about new home owners who keep getting messed over by service technicians? If they do, tah-dah! I'm your gal. After the whole AT&T debacle, I was done in by enough bad service reps to surely qualify for a show. Not only did our appliance delivery guys have to return both our refrigerator & washer due to shipping damage (thanks, by the way, for scraping rubber on the laundry room walls I just painted, gentlemen), our carpet installers sliced through the wires connecting our newly installed home security system. Of course they didn't tell me they did this (had to have a Brinks guy check it out) because they probably figured I was mad at them already for not ordering enough carpet to finish the house (see you next week, guys!). And the plumber--did I tell y'all about the plumber that ripped us off? And who cleans a chimney in 20 minutes and charges $150??

Blood pressure rising

Forget Deserving Design; I'm gonna end up on an episode of ER.

The Scene

2008-07-15T20:08:00.000-07:00

We are officially moving from our apartment on the last Saturday of this month. Every day until then, I'm going to lose 5% of my hair. The stress, stress, stress is making me a mess, mess, mess. The hardest thing is I can't do a lot of the stuff I need to do to get our new place ready (pack, paint, child-proof ...) when Rain is with me. I want her to hang out with me, but I can't sand wood in one hand and cuddle her with the other, right? So, I've been having my sister watch Rain a lot. I try to bring Rain with me whenever I can, but when I do ... well, here's what happened today:

I took Rain with me to buy paint. She was asleep when I took her out of the car, so I thought, "Sweet! I can shop in peace!" Well, ten minutes into the trip, Rain wakes up. She LOVES going to home improvement stores, because everything dangerous and pricey is out on the floor with no locks. Stacks and rows of toxic sprays, glues, & pesticides? Weeeee!

Well, I tried and tried to keep her in the cart, but she started crying and screaming. I tried carrying her--no go. She wanted to walk, and I was annoying her. After a few minutes, she was crawling all over me as I tried to restrain her. At one point, I sat her down to put on her shoe (yeah, by this time she had lost a shoe and was foaming at the mouth). She screamed, and it echoed along the aisles of metal cans and bounced off all the ears of the retired and childless men shopping at that hour.

"See??"I hissed at Rain. "I'm that lady at the store with a screaming kid who everyone hates! See who you've made Mommy into?"

I was so mad, I got up and walked off. "Fine!" I said. "I'm done with this!" I walked about five feet and peeked behind me. Rain turned her back to me (with a sassy flourish, no less!) and stomped off in the opposite direction. So, I walked another three feet and looked again. Rain had stopped as well. This is the part that troubles me most: after checking to see that I wasn't looking (I was), she hid behind a barrel in the aisle.

"Is she trying to make me believe she really ran off?" I thought. I ran towards the side of the barrel, and looked down on her. She was spying on the spot where I had just been. She was trying to punk me out! My mouth dropped open as she leaned out a bit like, "Now where did that silly woman go?"

"Rain!" I said, annoyed. She turned back and smiled like, "Yeah, I knew you'd be back."

Ugh! I was so mad. Rain knew it, too. For the next hour, she kept reading my eyes in this freaky sort of way. I think she was trying to decipher if I was mad, or if I was amused. She sort of smiled but all fake like. Her eyes said, "What is Mommy thinking? How can I bend these thoughts to my will?" I kept a straight face, but shook my head a few times to hint, "I'm not happy, and this isn't the end of it."

In conclusion: who is available to babysit this week? What--was it something I said?

AT&T'd Off

2008-07-10T11:51:00.000-07:00

AT&T.

Where shall I begin, mine enemy? Ye vile, wanton lord of the Internet! How dare ye call yourself an "Internet SERVICE Provider?" Do ye deal in service, or is it not proper to say ye pass your duties to India? Knoweth ye not that the road to Hell is paved with poor connections??

Anger makes me speak King James-ish. Aghh! I am so through with AT&T. Yesterday, I spent 1 hour on the phone with them. All the while, Rain was running around the new house looking for bugs to eat, ladders to climb, and bottled cleaners to drink. Not only was I transferred FIVE times, but each one of them asked me my name, address, phone number, etc. Why doesn't an Internet service provider have, I don't know, a network for its own?? Then I got transferred to India! Now, I love my Indian folk, and the reps are as polite as can be, but I don't understand them and they clearly don't understand me. Do I fault them? Nope. AT&T should stop trying to save a buck & hire some more American reps. At least then I'll understand how terrible the service is. Honestly, why can't they get it together? Do they not have Outlook or Networking for Dummies? I had to talk to them again today, and seriously, this is a sample of yesterday's & today's conversations:

Yesterday (Me & the American rep)
Me: The problem is, someone was supposed to connect our fax line on Monday as well as a main line. But, only our main line was connected.
Rep: I see. Well, or records show someone is coming on Thursday to connect the second line.
Me: Thursday? This is the first I've heard of this. What time on Thursday?
Rep: 8 A.M. to 8 P.M.
Me: I don't live in this home yet, so I'm not here a lot. Could you give me a smaller window of time?
Rep: Let me transfer you to our repair department--
Me: --no! I've already been transferred there before, and they transferred me to you--
*click*
New Rep: Thank you for contacting AT&T. What is the phone number your are calling about?

Today (Me & the Indian rep)
Me: I'm having problems with our email. We can receive email but not send it.
Rep: Ok. To assist you, I need your mother's maiden name for security purposes.
Me: (I give the name, but then realize that the main account holder is Tim, so they probably need his mother's maiden name) Actually, the name is--
Rep: I'm sorry, your initial answer was incorrect.
Me: I know, it's actually--
Rep: I'm sorry, because of security purposes, I need you mother's maiden name.
Me: I KNOW. The name is Sor--
Rep: I'm sorry. Because you answered incorrectly, you will have to fax me an ID, proof of your address, and--
Me: What? Seriously? Look, we're not even done moving into this house. We don't have a fax machine set up--
Rep: I'm sorry, because of security purposes ...

Pardon Me

2008-07-02T10:52:00.000-07:00

I felt kind of bad for Rain today because most of her toys were packed up. So, when I had to pack or clean, she had to entertain herself with--yikes--her imagination. That lasted about 20 minutes, then she looked at me like, "So ... when are we going to get a Wii like Aunt Gina has?" o I tried out a time-tested parental phrase like, "What am I? Made of money?" and a fresh one, too: "Hey, it was either a Wii for you or a new stainless steel refrigerator with built-in ice maker for us. Would you like a cool glass of water?"

So, it was time to break out the books. Before Rain was mobile, she liked books. When she began to crawl and walk, all of a sudden books were for rocks. I'm holding on to the time where she will love them again. Anyway, so I grabbed 2 books, one for each of us. Rain opened her book on her lap.

I picked up the other book and read a sentence to Rain. She smiled, moved closer to me, and took the book from my hand. Still smiling, she closed the book, and put it next to her.

"You don't like that one, huh?" I said. "OK, let's try this one."

I took the book sitting on her lap and read a page aloud. Rain smiled, took the book from me, and closed it. After a meaningful look, she handed the same book back to me.

I opened it again and started to read. She reached for the book.

"What?" I said, "What's wrong?" Then I got it. "Oh ... you don't want me to read aloud." Rain smiled, and we each looked at our own books quietly. Pardon me, madame.

Abuser

2008-06-28T20:03:00.000-07:00

It rained on my way home tonight. Without an umbrella in the car, I was forced to race to my front door barefoot (my dressy shoes would've caused an injury) with my huge diaper bag over one shoulder and a sleeping Rain over the other. I quickly said hello to Tim on my way in (by that I mean I hissed, "It's cold in here!"), and put Rain gently into the crib. I took off her shoes, and she fell back to sleep.

I walked out of the room, and finally go to say a proper hello to Tim, who I hadn't seen all day. A few minutes later, I went to the bathroom. While I was there, I could hear Rain crying. She must've woken up in the dark room and wondered where she was. I heard Tim go into the bedroom to get her. She continued to cry for a bit then stopped. When I stepped out of the bathroom again, Rain was crying.

Tim said, "You want to hear about what kind of abuser she is?"

Sure, I'm always up for that.

"Well," he said, "she started crying, so I went to get her. I tried to walk her around, but she kept crying. So, I took her out to the living room, and when she saw you weren't here, she stopped crying. She started to fall asleep, and then she heard you flush the toilet. Her head shot up, and her face looked like, 'Ha! She's here!'"

So, by the time I opened the door, the waterworks were on. Bad baby! Bad!

100 & Rightiest

2008-06-26T19:28:00.000-07:00

Today is my 100th post since Rain was born. That's just madness.

Carry on.

So, a moment of reflection is in order, I'm sure. After an incident today, I thought about what the hardest thing about parenting is. I'm sure it's different for everybody, but for me it's "rightiest." Look, I'm a Type B+ personality (not quite as psycho as an A, but definitely prone to overdoing stuff), and that means I'm always torn between doing what's right and rightiest.

Oh, I know my fellow grammarians (halla if you love semicolons) are shouting, "There is no such word!" But, my syntax-loving brethren, let me explain. Sometimes I find myself debating what I think is right versus what I feel is right. I can't say one is "more right," because then it feels like I'm saying one choice is wrong. Neither choice seems wrong, but one seems rightier. For example, let's say I'm working on a business project at home. After a few minutes, I really get into it, and here comes Rain. She toddles in with her two very cute teeth, a smile, and a look like, "So ... are we going outside now? I've been playing quietly for a while now." She got these big cheeks, right? And she's all giggling like, "How fun am I? Who wouldn't want to play with me?" There I am thinking about all the work I have to do. Don't I want to show her a good work ethic by example? Don't I want her to be independent? Isn't some of the money we make going into her piggy bank (and by "piggy bank" I mean high-interest-yielding online savings fund) after all?
It's not that working is bad. Playing with Rain definitely isn't wrong. But what's rightiest?? Let's say someone always picks up extra hours at work to save for her kid's education or just to buy fun stuff for her. Nothing wrong with that. But, if she starts missing all her kid's ball games and whatnot because she works, well, now she's skipping out on good things. Then I'm thinking, "That is SO me. I could work every weekend to pay for Rain's college, and then when I turn 40, someone will hit me with a car. I'll miss all her Saturday games, and still not see her graduate!"

That kind of thinking is downright dangerous. I mean physically dangerous. Several times in Rain's short life I have made bad choices because I get distracted doing something that I think is best. The choice wasn't bad, but it definitely wasn't the rightiest.

Today Rain & I went out for our daily walk. I did the whole mommy thing & put Rain in shorts, bathed her in SPF 50, & brought a sufficient water supply (plus snacks). I put her in her stroller for 15 minutes, then let her walk beside me. She toddled down the sidewalk and walked all over the grass in her spiffy new leather shoes (softies for newbie walkers). After forty minutes, I decided it was time to come in. The heat was too much, & Rain looked sleepy. We were playing in the grassy field in front of our apartment, so thankfully, the walk home would be short.

I was about to slip Rain into her stroller when I noticed a large spider sitting on the fabric hood. I put Rain down next to me and told her, "Mommy has to get this guy out of your seat, then we'll go home." I shook the fabric for a second, but the spider didn't move. I frowned, shook the fabric again, and the spider jumped to the grass.

"Yay!" I said to Rain.

Who was no longer there.

I looked up, and there Rain was, toddling 12-15 feet from me. In the few seconds I was messing with the spider, Rain had run towards our apartment door. The front of our first-floor apartment is much lower than the surrounding landscape, so it looks as if you're going underground when you walk up to our door. The problem was that to get to our apartment Rain would have go down a stairwell. On either side of this stairwell is a 3-4 ft drop-off. Below that is nothing but cement and stone landscaping.

As I saw Rain toddle towards the edge of the drop-off, 3 things happened:

One, even though I took off running, I knew I would never make it. She was too far ahead of me.

Two, I felt instant guilt. This is the day, I thought, where I screw up our lives. She'll break her neck, and I'll kill myself.

Three, I screamed, "RAINNNNN!"

Now, when I say, "Rain!" from time to time--let's say, when she runs off with my car keys--Rain always runs faster. Even when I'm annoyed because she's spilling something across the carpet, she runs because she thinks it's a game. To her, calling after her is a sign you want to play chase.

But, when I shouted, "RAINNNNN!" I tell you my soul was in it. I screamed that scream that people do when horror is inevitable. Anyone outside probably turned to look.

Rain stopped, looked back at me, and I tackled her. I was thrilled, mad, happy, & scared. "Thank you, God!" I said. I told Rain, "Your Father was watching out for you, because your mommy is an idiot." I know I'm not an idiot, but I felt like one. I was mad for making the right decision to rid Rain's stroller of the spider, but not the rightiest one: watching her. I should've held her hand while I was distracted or kept her in front of me. Every few weeks something like that happens, and I feel lousy. I try to do the right thing but plenty of times it's not the rightiest thing.

... Wowzers, I could never be an inspirational speaker. I'm getting a weight off my chest by tossing it on my back! Yikes. Ok, on the upside, welp, Rain's a pretty happy & healthy kid. During the 99 posts before this, I can say Rain & me have had a great, although unpredictable, time. The only one who could say anything different would be Rain.

And she can't type.

War of the Wills

2008-06-22T20:04:00.000-07:00

Rain, honey, put those pants down. We don't touch things that aren't ours. Put those pants down now, please, before--are you trying to match it??

Come on, sweetie, smile for the picture. Your great grandma and auntie were nice enough to send you a gift, so how 'bout a smile? Keep your hat on, please. Smile. Keep your hat on. Smile. Keep your hat on ...

Rain! No more clothes. Didn't I say no more already?

Wait for mommy, please. Wait for mommy. WAIT for mommy. WAIT FOR MOMMY!!

Bowling

2008-06-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I bought a toddler-sized wooden bowling set. It was sorta too cute to pass up (c'mon, wooden toy in useful/coordinated tote? Sold!), and I thought I could try to teach Rain how to play something different. Our first lesson went something like this:

Step 1: Wowee! Bowling is too fun!
I decided I'd have to show her how fun bowling could be, so I wildly cheered and hollered as I rolled the ball across the floor. My exaggerated expressions proved to her that, clearly, she was missing out.

Step 2: Create suspense
"1 ... 2 ... 3!" I exclaimed, and rolled the ball towards the pins. "Look at the ball hit the pins!" Anyone who has done this with a baby or puppy knows the frustration of pointing to something and saying, "Don't look at my finger, look at what I'm pointing at. No, not my finger, that, that!"

Step 3: Demonstrate prowess
I hit one pin, and Rain's brow lowered in puzzlement. Was this a good thing? Was it an accident? I hit two pins at once, and her mouth made a big O. That's right, kiddo: Mama is a pro. Be glad we're not taking bets.

Step 4: Train apprentice
I put the ball in Rain's hand. "1 ... 2 ... 3!" Ball drops to the floor but fails to roll more than a few inches. Surprisingly, Rain understands this was not the goal. Frustration mounts.

Step 5: The student becomes the master
I gave her the ball again. Rain stared at it. After a moment, she dropped the ball. She toddled over to the pins and kicked them all down. Problem solved.

Every Time I Turn Around!

2008-06-18T21:05:00.000-07:00

Where is the reason, the logic?? Two weeks ago, at her own birthday party, Rain had NO teeth. Now she has TWO with a possible third peeking through. Every time I turn around, that kid's got a tooth coming in. 'Bout time!

Lump

2008-06-16T09:21:00.000-07:00

A few posts ago, I mentioned a special project I'm working on. The project will be ready to view in about another week, but here is a little something related to it ...

So, I was running errands for the house last week (something I do every day now), and decided it was time to finally get the tires balanced on my car. I had to, because any time I went past 65 miles an hour (and that's the bare minimum in Texas), my steering wheel started to rattle. Anyway, there I was at the tire shop trying to keep Rain entertained without bothering the other customers.

Rain wanted to walk everywhere and see everyone. Most people are cool with a toddler standing 2 feet away and just staring (they may smile and whatnot), but others decidedly don't want children even looking at them. So, I had to trail her the whole time making apologies. Even when I let her play with her toy puppy (a singing dog that I loathe & love, depending on my patience for repetition that day), she sat for a minute before tossing the thing aside. Out of desperation, I let her sit on my lap & empty out her diaper bag, something she thoroughly enjoys.

Her hairbrush was there, so I decided to give her hair a once-over. Her back was towards me, and I hoped the soft brushing would distract her.

It was me who would needed the distracting. Behind Rain's ear, on her skull, was a lump. A hard lump the size of a dime. I was surprised, and worse, could tell the thing wasn't a bruise or temporary injury of any sort. I checked the rest of her head for similar lumps, but there was only the one. I waited, oh, about 2 seconds before calling Rain's doctor while mumbling, "What is it? What is it?"

I think every newbie parent has had the moment where part of your inner voice says, "Hey, calm down. Be a mom and settle yourself down before you freak your kid out, too." The other part of your inner voice, the completely panic-stricken side, wants to scream and call your mommy. The fear sets in quickly, because it was already there. We've all had lifetime experiences with this: a child-like trust that a thing, a person, or a relationship is forever, and bam! It's forcefully taken away, and we never want to be that foolish again. Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was a sucker, right?

Forget Darwin. This isn't about wanting a species to continue. If that was the case, I'd have 10 kids (wow, I can hear Tim choking on his coffee from here). Every kid, every single one, is irreplaceable, and from the moment a baby comes home from the hospital, we have a whispered terror that he or she, too, will be something taken away. Oh, sure, the rational side tells us our children will be fine and outlive us by many years, but what if? What if??

OK, I'm going to stop now. I'm working myself up all over again. I called the doctor's office, and a nurse told me, "If it gets bigger, call us." What? Lady, I'm not talking about my iguana, I'm talking about my kid!

Ugh.

I'm going to continue to follow her advice for 1 more week, then I'm succumbing to the inner voice whose advice begins with, "Contact the American Academy of Pediatrics ..."

Monday: Get Your Own Rib!

2008-06-10T20:15:00.001-07:00

Monday

A quick note on Rain's Memorial Day party, which we had a day before her actual birthday. We had a family-friendly BBQ--complete with kite-flying and bubbles--at a small park. My favorite thing about the whole party was that Rain had a great time. She never cried, though she took an obligatory nap. She walked around and visited with family & friends. By visited, I mean checked their plates for cake and ribs. A great day, really. Next year's party? Anywhere ... but Chuck E. Cheese.

Tuesday: Birthday Girl

2008-06-05T12:51:00.000-07:00

Tuesday

One year ago, Rain Annalise came into our world.
She seemed just as unsure about the change as we were.

She was beautiful.

And unique.

Here's to the one blessing that has changed who we thought we were & what was possible in this lifetime. Happy Birthday, Rainbow.

Wednesday: The Cell

2008-06-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

Wednesday

Continuing my week in review, on Wednesday of last week, I had to obtain a new phone. I truly have no idea how to explain what happened. I don't want to blame Rain unjustly, but the evidence provides no other culprit.

Several months ago, my cell phone became worthless. The battery kept dying no matter how long I recharged it. Two weeks ago, I decided enough was enough. I bought a snazzy red phone that could play MP3s. Toss in the earpiece and leather case, and I totally looked like a busy ... mom. But a busy, chic mom.

Since then, I spent every day packing up our apartment. I tossed stuff in boxes and bags, all while little Rain played among the wreckage.

Last week, I went to my sister's house to babysit her kids. Tim called to check up on me, and a few hours later, he came to pick me & Rain up. He put Rain in the car, and just then I remembered I had forgotten my phone. I went back in to look for it, but couldn't find it. I had my sister dial my number from her phone, but I couldn't hear my phone ring. I thought it was odd, but decided I would return later to hunt for it.

I will save you the pitiful tale of how I returned later, and though I looked EVERYWHERE (yes, I searched in between seat cushions), I couldn't find my phone. My sister & brother-in-law searched as well, and it is almost ridiculous to say this, but the phone disappeared. I turned that place upside down & shook it, and still found nothing. I, very seriously, couldn't believe it. By the time I had searched the place twice, I was almost laughing. I eventually gave in, and I reconnected another old phone we happened to still have.

It's now a joke. When I see my sister, I ask, "So ... did you find my phone yet?" We both know it's gone forever, though we may never know how. There is one clue, however.

If you watch Rain play for a while, periodically you will see her do something she's seen Mommy do many, many times in the last few weeks. She will pick up an object, and carefully deposit it in an open box or bag.

My brother-in-law had thrown the trash out the day I lost my phone.

Somewhere, an employee at the city dump is holding a red, very chic phone and shaking his head at the perfectly fine things crazy people throw away. If you know the guy, tell him I have the matching earpiece, if he's interested.

Thursday: Home

2008-06-02T22:55:00.000-07:00

Thursday

After turning in our Young Person cards long ago, Tim & I decided it was time to buy a house. Mainly, we decided before Rain was born that we wanted to buy a house when she was a year old. At one point we thought we might buy a home when I was pregnant, but that ridiculous idea was quickly tabled. I'm glad we didn't, now that I know all the work that's involved.

The home-buying process is filled with procedures, forms, and protocol--none of which was covered in school (but, hey, as long as we memorized the Pythagorean Theorem, it's all good). If you have loads of money, the process is simple, because no doubt you hardly care if you're ripped off. We, however, researched and researched as much as we could about homes, and we still feel like we are at the mercy of those that play the game every day (realtors, inspectors, contractors, and the like).

Thankfully, we've met our share of good guys. Alas, we've also encountered slick salesmen at every turn.

Home security system salesman (clearly reading from script): "You know, 16 million Americans dealt with a home break-in last year."

Me: "Actually, I was asking if you guys offer a guarantee of some sort. I mean, if we use your system & our house gets broken into & you don't send out police or follow-up, what kind of compensation will there be? Do you guarantee your work?"

Salesman: "Well, the study I have here that was released just last week shows that 16 million Americans ..."

Anyway, so we researched every company/person we hired before we contacted them. Honestly, as psycho as it sounds, we were able to tell some people more about the service they were offering than they were. We were on top of stuff. Our realtor (good guy, very professional ... www.daviddevries.com), I think, was surprised by our stay-on-it attitude.

We made sure the home inspector was ASHI certified, that our realtor came highly recommended, and loan provider had a great rate with no fees. Yep, all that research, planning, and punctuality ... and yet ...

Out of all the things we could possibly have let slip through the cracks, well, there was one thing. One LARGE thing. Like thousands of dollars thing. For whatever reason, we had forgotten to transfer money from our savings account (not in a local bank) to our checking account. This transaction takes several days, and on Tuesday night we realized, "Hey, we're closing at noon on Thursday, and we have no money."

Thus began a mad dash for cash. This wasn't like, "Hey, Ma, can I borrow fifty bucks?" it was like, "So ... anybody have 7 grand they're not using today?" After exasperating all our resources, we realized we simply had to bite the bullet and borrow from family members. To the credit (no pun intended) of my family, they came through. Thanks, guys, for covering us in our serious oversight.

It happened that on Thursday morning the money we needed had transferred to our account in time (in record time, in fact) after all, so we didn't have to trouble others further. We beat ourselves up over the whole thing, until we talked to our realtor (25+ years of experience). After explaining to him the disaster we had avoided, he shrugged & said, "You guys wouldn't have been the first."

Friday: Tooth Fairy

2008-06-01T18:47:00.000-07:00

Oh, where do I begin? Let's start with:

Friday

So. I decided a while back that Rain would be a toothless 20-year-old. I mean, there she was at her birthday party chomping on cake with only her gums--only her gums! Come on, kid! You're a year old--show some enamel! Most kids get teeth around 7 months old, and some are born with them, for crying out loud.

Sigh. It's not that I want Rain to hit a milestone so I can brag to other parents. The main thing is that she cries, cries, and cries about her teeth. Some nights she wakes up every 3 hours (like a newborn!) crying about her teeth. The Orajel doesn't work anymore. Frozen peas or ice chips are the only things that will calm her down.

Since there wasn't anything I could do to make her teeth grow faster, I focused my dispair on Friday, May 30. Yep, May 3-0. Friday. The day that I would finally get to vent all my frustrations to Rain's pediatrician. Rain had her 12-month check-up on Friday (they call them "wellness visits" now), and I was waiting to tell the doctor of my teething woes. I didn't expect that he would give me a magic solution (besides, if Orajel doesn't work, most doctors are going to say, "Wow, sounds like you're about to bake another batch of TOUGH COOKIES."), I just wanted a pinch of sympathy. I wanted to get it all out, you know? A tiny pity party, just for me. Something that might sweeten the bitter taste of sleepless nights. I told Rain, "Wait until the doctor sees you don't have any teeth! He's going to feel so sorry for mommy."

At Rain's appointment, the doctor & I went over the usual items (weigh-in, head measurement, height check, blah, blah, blah). Finally, it was time for the good stuff.

"Well," the doctor said, "it's time to check on how those teeth are coming along. I'm sure this will be like a WWWF match getting in there, so why don't you hold her hands, and I'll hold her head?" He pulled out a tongue depressor, and I took hold of Rain's hands and shoulders as best I could.

As soon as the doctor got Rain's mouth open, she tussled and tossed as expected. I shook my head knowingly ("See? See how she is with me??") as the doctor worked Rain's mouth open wider and wider.

"Ah, there we go!" he said. "Look, Mom, right there. It looks like Miss Rain has a tooth that's come through." The night before Rain grew a tooth.

That is so messed up.

C.R.I.B. Party

2008-05-25T21:51:00.000-07:00

I had always been reluctant to throw a birthday party for Rain, because I thought, "She doesn't care it's her birthday. Let's have a party when she's actually old enough to say 'party.'" I told Tim I thought we should just get a little cake for her and go on a family picnic.

A funny thing happened. Tim reflected for a minute then voted me out. He said we were going to have a party for Rain, and he was sort of set on it. Since then I have speculated why, but I haven't asked him directly. Whatever the reason, his little girl is having a party, so we'll be blowing up balloons tonight.

We decided to have a BBQ and call it a C.R.I.B. party (Cake, Ribs, Ice cream, & Balloons). We've billed it as a family-oriented, low-key event. But doesn't "event" automatically trump "low-key"? We'll see ...

But another thing is on my mind at the moment. Two things, in fact.

First, I have been blogging about Rain's life since she was in the womb. Since she's been born, I've had to write only when I get a chance, which is not often. Perhaps this is the time to stop. I mean, will Rain be 16 saying, "Could you, like, quit bloggin' about me? My friends are sooooo creeped out"?

Hmmm. Will give myself to Rain's official birthday to decide on this ...

Second, I have a bit of a project on my hands that I'd like to share with you. Stay tuned.

Now You Tell Me

2008-05-20T19:54:00.000-07:00

The American Academy of Pediatrics has a favorite pastime: making recommendations. They have ideas about everything, and when Rain was first born, we let the Academy's opinion trump our own common sense. Nevertheless, when I was told the Academy recommended that babies be breastfed until they are a year old, I tried to mentally prepare for the loooong year ahead of me.

Now, here we are, one year later. I have dutifully nursed Rain under all kinds of unsatisfactory conditions. I ate meals cold, woke up at all hours of the night, went home early from events, ignored back pain, and more to meet the Academy's goal. True, Rain always looked healthy (ruddy cheeks are kind of cute), and she never once this past year, not once I tell you, had an earache, cold, or anything else besides a few fevers (lasting only a few hours) when she teethed (the Academy will tell you I'm making that last part up, but honest, she felt feverish during bad teething bouts). The problem is, Rain (like her other breastfed counterparts, I'm sure) is almost comically addicted to nursing. We have all kinds of running jokes in our home over her attachment. We often refer half-seriously to Rain's "breast friends." I told my sister the other day, "I can't even go into a dressing room with Rain anymore. The other day, she was with me as I was trying on a shirt. After a second, I was like, 'Who dimmed the lights??'" I won't even hold Rain horizontally, because she thinks it's snack time. I know it's not Rain's fault; for cryin' out loud, I spent the first 3 months of her life encouraging her to nurse with gusto. But now she seems a little too wise about the whole thing. It's almost as if I waited too long to wean her, and now it's going to get ugly. I waited because (here it comes) the Academy recommended it.

So, today I decided I was not going to let Rain have her usual afternoon nursing session. I thought, "Hey, it's ONE time ... just a test run ... no reason to panic ..."

Results: Ugly.

I mean, she cried, and cried, and cried, until I thought I could hear the upstairs neighbor joining in. After 15 minutes of her screams, I caved. I dusted off my old standby parenting manual (What to Expect in the First Year) and read all the techniques on how to wean. Under the list of times not to try to wean? During a major change, such as moving to a new house.

Doh!

Boyz in the Sink Fan

2008-05-19T12:08:00.001-07:00

The ONLY kiddie song she'll run to hear when I play it on the computer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGaDjSXhB8s

Vanilla

2008-05-16T22:03:00.000-07:00

In ten days, Rain will be a year old. In two weeks, we'll close on a house. Would we be buying a home if Rain wasn't here? I think ... no. Without Rain, Tim & I would probably have kept our roots from taking ground and used our money to travel. We might've upgraded to a super-sweet 'mobile & perhaps dinosaur flat screen.

Today I packed a few boxes while my sister watched Rain. I tried to remember what life was like before Rain and imagine what life would be like without her. I used to come home from work to a quiet apartment. Tim would be at work still, and I would casually read the mail, make dinner, and read a chapter or two of a novel. If I wanted to go to the gym, I did. If I didn't feel like going until later, no big deal. The apartment was quiet, but I never thought about that. I never noticed it. Nobody notices vanilla.

The first few weeks after Rain was born, I longed for vanilla. The new flavor was hard to take, because I had developed a taste for vanilla. There was nothing wrong with vanilla, so why, oh why, did I ever leave it?

Almost a year has passed, and I can say this for sure: there is no going back to vanilla. Even if the unthinkable happened and Tim left and took Rain with him, there is no going back to vanilla. Rain has been my companion every day for one year. I will never forget this year, because it is the year a stranger came into my life and showed me there's more to it than comfort, sameness, my way, safety--vanilla.

The funny thing is, Tim & I talked, talked, and talked about all the changes a child would bring into our lives, and ha! I still underestimated Rain. She took our little lives, politely admired their quaintness, and quickly deposited them into the kitchen disposal.

So what now? On her birthday, I will take her to a spot near where I live. There is a small wooded area that is always cool, no matter how hot the weather is. Once, when I was very pregnant, I walked past that spot as I was trying to exercise. I remember stopping there and wanting to talk to Rain. I told her all the things mothers tell their babies to let them know that it's safe to come out. I don't know how to explain it but perhaps to say that if you have ever been given something that was irreplaceable, something someone asked you to take care of that was precious to them, you have an idea of how I felt. I had this thought that Rain wasn't created by me but for me. It was humbling.

I told my belly how happy I was and thanked God for this chance at being more. Not at having more, but being more than vanilla.

Still Truckin'

2008-05-09T06:55:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday. It crept up on me while I was planning family birthdays in April, an event for my church, Rain's birthday later this month ...

Rain had been crying for most of the last 3 weeks from teeth troubles (or should I say, "no teeth troubles," because not a ONE has come through?), so my energy level has been low, low, low, low. Last night I expected her to wake me 3 or 4 times as usual, especially since we were sleeping on the couch (will explain later).

She woke me up once to nurse, then fell back asleep. This morning, she cuddled next to me. She stared at me for a while, but surprisingly, didn't try to get up. We relaxed for a while, and I thought maybe some how she knew she should be easy on me today.

We'll see if this holds up ...

As for sleeping on the couch, well, my bedroom was too full of junk because ...

We're packin' because we have a ratified contract for a house! Now, that's a birthday present!

Ain't That the Truth

2008-05-02T22:01:00.000-07:00

http://www.vh1.com/video/play.jhtml?id=1583994&vid=209322

Lullaby for Wyatt

The world could fall apart
But you're my heart, my dear
I will sing this song
'Til we are gone, my dear

How do I keep you from losing your way?
Hope you'll go out and you'll come back some day
But love is letting go and this I'll know
'Cause you were mine for a time

I could shape your mind
But why waste time, my dear
There's so much more to know
Than I can show you, dear

How do I keep you from losing your way?
Hope you'll go out and you'll come back some day
But love is letting go and this I'll know
'Cause you were mine for a time

I have held you close
And breathed your name, my dear
I was with you then
And will remain, my dear

How do I keep you from losing your way?
Hope you will find love like I did some day
But love is letting go and this I'll know
'Cause you were mine for a time

And This Little Piggy Went ...

2008-04-30T08:08:00.000-07:00

Rain's official (and surprising, of course) first phrase, based on "This Little Piggy Went to Market," which we play every day:

"Wee, wee, wee, wee!"

I laughed so hard, she did it over and over again with the right rhythm and everything. What a ham!

Too ... Much ... Chocolate ...

2008-04-23T22:20:00.000-07:00

I try. I try every day. For lunch, I give Rain a dairy product (cheddar cheese or yogurt), a veggie (steamed peas, pureed squash, etc.), and grilled chicken. Everything I don't prepare fresh for her requires a dash: whole-grain, protein-packed, sugar-free ... That kid eats healthier than any one in this house. I've denied her cookies, shakes, fried meats, and--dare I mention the logs on which this country's diet is built?--FRENCH FRIES. How ironic, considering those Parisians are so petite.

But, there are two parents to every story. Tim doesn't see a thing wrong with letting Rain try every sweet that bakes its way into our home. I tried to explain to him that as long as she doesn't have any sweets, she'll never know what she's missing. He thinks I'm a sugar Nazi.

One day she had chocolate chips, and the next day I caught her licking a tiny piece that had melted on the floor. Ugh! Then there was the whole indigestion debate ...

Tim (giving Rain a fry): "Here's one for you."
Me: "Ahem. Did you read that article that your mom gave to us?"
Tim: "Hmmm?""
Me: "Your mom thinks Rain has indigestion because she kept making a funny face the whole time your mom was visiting. I think Rain made the face because her gums were sore, but your mom printed up an Internet article on indigestion."
Tim: "Maybe Rain does have indigestion."
Me: "I read the article."
Tim: (handing Rain another fry) "So does Rain have indigestion?"
Me: "Maybe. You know what it says causes indigestion?"
Tim: "Sugar or something?"
Me: "Fried foods."
Tim: "Oh."

What we do agree on is that Rain's digestive system is fascinating. She is our homemade nutrition experiment. We can give her any food we like, and immediately see the results of our choices in her diaper. Gross, true, but here's what we've verified:

1. It's true: veggies make the digestive tract stay on track. Darn! If only cheesecake had performed as well on our tests.
2. On the downside, nothing stinks worse than a diaper after baby has indulged in peas and squash. Note to Teenage Rain: You will never ever be able to repay me for the kindness of changing a pea-filled diaper. I demand that my room at the nursing home have a view of the ocean.
3. The fine for indulging in dairy and meats is fierce. It will take several--er--tries before the pipes will be running smoothly again.

A final note of advice proved by our science:
Doth thou struggle to eliminate? Make haste to thy market! Surely, the power of magik prunes shall heal thee and thine.

Soap Dope

2008-04-18T22:50:00.001-07:00

Seriously, I will continue with all the goings on of the New Mexico trip ... just not today.

Scene
Bathtub, mid-day

Characters
Rain & Grandma Dowdel

Act I: The Meeting

Dowdel (Furiously scrubs with washcloth): I'm sorry there aren't any toys to play with today, Rainbow, but Mommy is in a hurry. We're going to be late to meet the realtor, so no time for toys. Sorry.

Rain (Looks bored. Attempts to try out her sea legs, though the slippery tub is an insurance claim waiting to happen): Ohhhh, ohhhh. Oh.

Dowdel (Pours more overpriced baby body soap onto washcloth) : If you'd stay still a second, this would go a lot faster, you know.

Rain (Cruises along side of tub. Smiles. Spots bar of soap, dry and safe in soap dish): Oh!

Act II: The Set-Up

Dowdel: Rain, leave it alone, please.

Rain (Pushes towards soap)

Dowdel: There's no point, I'm telling you. Remember last time when you & Syrene tried to play with the soap in the tub? It was too slippery to catch, and ... (Pause. Dowdel reconsiders, remembering how funny it was to watch. Baby kept Dowdel up 4 nights prior with teething cries; Dowdel figures baby owes her a laugh.)

Rain (Unsure of how to proceed. Will Dowdel stop her?)

Act III: Soap Dope

Dowdel: No, Rain, leave the soap alone. (Dowdel read parenting book last night, and with guilt, remembers chapter on consistency & discipline.)

Rain (Moves toward soap)

Dowdel: Fine, go ahead. I'm low on laughs, and there's nothing more I'd like to see than for you to pointlessly try to grab at the soap, just like I pointlessly try to get you to go back to sleep at 6 in the morning.

Rain (Reaches for soap)

Dowdel: Go on.

Rain grabs soap (Dowdel forgot soap is, in fact, bone dry), and plops it easily into her mouth.

Frantic digging ensues.

Guilt Trip

2008-04-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

Aghhhh! It's Rain's bedtime, so I put her in her crib. Instead of falling asleep, she's crying and saying "Mommmmmm." I bathed her, fed her, cuddled her, and fed her again, so I know she's fine. She's only crying because she doesn't want to go to sleep, BUT does she have to say "Mom"?? Oh, the guilt!! These are the times my pediatrician told me to just let her be, because she's fine. Otherwise, he said, she'll be sleeping in my bed until she's seven.

Hold strong, hold strong, Dowdel, hold strong ...

Ain't You a Little Young?

2008-04-12T16:42:00.000-07:00

*I'll continue with our road trip next time. Need to vent first*

What is going on with Rain? Today she pulled 2 stunts (both of which she's done 5 or 6 times already) that make me feel that's she's got a bit too much 'tude for someone with no personal income.

The first thing happens when she's put contraband in her mouth. Every parent has dealt with this: there is baby on the floor, happily chewing away when you know you haven't given her anything to eat.

"Rainbow, are you eating something?"

(Immediately stops chewing. Staring contest ensues. Baby accidentally chews.)

"Ha! Give it to me!" I say, and immediately transform my finger into a fishing hook.

The first 2-3 times this happened, Rain would take off. I'd have to catch her and dig out the offending item. Then Rain would wail over the confiscated piece of paper, string, or crayon chunk.

Now, it goes like this:

"Rain, give it now!" (Looming ever closer with hooked finger)

"Pthhhhhhh!" Rain says, and spits out the object (some people call this a raspberry) in a long-distance arc. She gives a look like, "You want it? Fetch!" and crawls off all smug.

Oh no, you di'nt! The first time she did this, I was shocked. The second time, I had my hands on my hips.

The second questionable action she's repeated lately is this: when she gets mad at me, she throws herself face down on the floor, stretches out her arms in front of her in a "How could you do this to me?" pose, and won't move. It's a Grade A, toddler-size fit.

I laughed the first time she did it, because I was sure I was misinterpreting the whole event. Now that she's done it 6 times, the joke's on me.

But, I have to ask: isn't she a bit young for all this behaviour?

Either way, fear not. If Rain thinks her sassy diaper is going to put her mama in check, well, then she is a little young then, isn't she?

Road Trip ... Again

2008-04-09T21:27:00.000-07:00

Some of you may recall that we (foolishly) decided to take Rain on a road trip when she was 3 months old. She cried most of the way. The rest of the time she spent struggling against her car seat restraints until she was sweating (followed by more crying). To break up the monotony, she'd poop. A 5 hour trip turned into a 7 or 8 hour quest.

This past week, we drove to New Mexico. The ONLY reason I went out to Roswell was to visit my brother. He was transplanted there about 6 months ago due to his job. The last time I was in NM was when I was 3 months pregnant with Rain. I was so nauseous that when we crossed the New Mexico/Texas border, I said, "Mark that off my list of places to live! I'm never going there again."

"Hee-hee," said Fate, and last Thursday I found myself in NM again. I understand that my first trip to NM was tainted by morning sickness. Everywhere we went, I had to worry about what I would eat, if I would eat, and what would stay down. So, this was New Mexico's chance to redeem itself to me, not that the visitor's bureau is awaiting my endorsement or anything.

We decided to head out to NM at 9:00 P.M. This is Rain's bedtime. We figured our best chance at having Rain stay happy in her car seat for 8 hours was to drive while she was asleep. Wow, that's something only a newbie parent would do, huh? Even if it meant we would get no sleep, we considered the trade-off fair. Rain did sleep the whole way, but oh the oddities of a long drive in the middle of the night! Let's begin with a piece I like to call, "You feel asleep and we're gonna die!!"

How Did it Happen?

2008-03-29T20:40:00.001-07:00

Some mothers are handed their newborns and fall in love--instantly. Rain & I weren't like that. I'm not ashamed of it, because it's true. We approached each other with some caution, but then ... well, how did it happen?

Hit it, Chris Brown.

You mean to me
What I mean to you,

And together, baby,
There is nothing we won't do,

'Cause if I got you,
I don't need money,
I don't need cars,
Girl, you're my heart.

And, Oh! I'm into you,
And, girl, no one else would do,

With every kiss and every hug,
You make me fall in love,

And now I know I can't be the only one,
I bet they're heart's all over the world tonight,

With the love of their life who feels
What I feel when I'm with you

... Baby, you're the best part of my day.

Me & You Makes ... One (Part 2)

2008-03-25T22:01:00.000-07:00

So Ma tells me that I should put Rain in a play pen (play yards, pack 'n' play, whatever). Play pens are basically roofless cages for babies. Sure, they've got a cushy bottom, but the high walls and cell-like shape certainly say, "Have a seat; you won't be leaving for a while."

I had been warned several weeks before by a friend that it was too late to put Rain in a pen. If she hadn't grown up with one, the chances of her liking one now were slim.

But, there I was, as usual, desperate. I had cancelled my gym membership, and the DVDs seemed like my last chance at losing post-delivery pounds. Every time I put an exercise DVD on, Rain would scream and wrap her tentacles around my knees. I felt like a bad mom and a pansy all at once.

So one day, I pulled out the play pen that I had never used. I set it up, and plopped Rain in with a few choice toys. I started the DVD and hoped for the best. Rain, at first, was puzzled. I peeked at her between jumping jacks, and her expression said, "Is this a new game? Should I be happy?" I smiled and cheered her for being so calm. (Note: You'd be surprised how well smiling changes a child's whole outlook. If you've ever seen a toddler take a tumble, sit up with a welt on his head, stare at his parents for confirmation--they, of course, smile and clap likes he's just laid a golden egg--so he smiles, shakes it off, and goes on, then you know what I'm talking about.)

I kept hopping about while Rain cruised along the walls of the pen. She played with her toys, but a five minutes later, the game was up. She figured out quickly that although we were in the same location, we were not really together. I was doing my thing, and she was doing hers. (Note to New Parents: Babies have a keen sense of "together." Don't try to do two things at once during play time. Rain has smacked a book out of my hands so many times like, "Hey! I'm talking to you!" that I can testify.)

She blew up, so as a responsible warden, I had to free her. For two or three days after my little felon was released, life on the outs was tough for all of us. Finally, I decided to try again. I fed her well, put her down for a nap, and when she woke up, I started my DVD.

I did the whole thing, and she didn't cry once. Was it because she had napped right before? Maybe. Was it the heavy meal? Perhaps. The truth is, I don't know. O ye fickle babes! One minute they love carrots, the next, only corn is in. Toys, books, and snacks go by the wayside the second something better--or, at least different--comes along. Pink is the new white, and shredded wheat is the new oatmeal. Ask any parent who ran out and bought a huge, price toy for her kid because her tot loved it at the store. Yeah, that sucker is still collecting dust somewhere, isn't it? I hear ya.

Swingin' in the Rain ...

2008-03-22T08:04:00.000-07:00

Save Me From Myself

2008-03-14T23:03:00.000-07:00

*"Me & You Makes ... One" will continue next time, honest*

I saw Denzel Washington's mama on TV once. She said she prayed that God would bless her children AND her children's children. Not a bad idea at all, I thought.

I saw no problem in asking God to protect my child from my own stupidity, so I did.

Months pass by ...

Some of you may remember when I won the BMOY award last year for allowing Rain to fall from our bed. I was devastated when it happened and told myself I would never be so foolish again.

Ahem. Let's pause a moment so my pride has a moment to leave the room.
...

So, the other day Rain fell asleep on our bed. She had so much trouble getting to sleep the past few days, that I was more than happy that she had finally taken a nap. I piled pillows around her as a safety net, and sat in the next room to work. Rain has a perfect internal clock. She naps for 35 minutes when she naps. Not 45, not 25, but 35 minutes.

I was deep into editing a newsletter, fifteen minutes later, when for no reason a thought--like a drop right into my brain--came to me: Rain!

Normally, when Rain wakes up, she cries out for me to get her. She hates spending even 1 minute longer in the crib than is required. I didn't hear her make any noise, but I hadn't expected her to while she was sleeping, either. I thought, "I'll check on her in a bit, and see if she's OK."

Even while I was thinking that, I got up and hurried to the bedroom. I don't know why I was rushing, but I was. There, smiling like she just won a gold medal in gymnastics, was Rain.

She had both hands on the bed, and one leg hanging off the side of it. She was exactly in the moment of crawling back one step off the edge. My bed is almost 3 feet off the floor, and thanks to the pillow wall I had created, was even higher.

I did the slide-save better than some baseball players have done. I did it all to the chant of, "Stupid, stupid, stupid! Mommy is so stupid!" I mean, c'mon! How many times does the kid have to injure herself before I change my ways?

To soothe my conscience, I cuddled Rain for the rest of the afternoon. I apologized several times. Rain didn't seem to mind as long as the love kept coming.

So, I raise my glass to Denzel's mama, for her sensible advice to help the senseless. Hear, hear!

PS- The next day I took Rain to have lunch with Tim while he was at work. I almost cancelled because Tim didn't know if he'd be able to (tons of work to do). We went anyway (hey, I'm trying to keep the marital fire burnin') and had a good time. Later, we found out there was a fire in the trees and brush behind our apartment while I was gone. The firemen came and put it out. There is a large patch of charred ground from the street to the back of our apartment. The fire missed our place (we are the first apartment on that corner) by about five feet. Thank God for watching over us; and help me to not be bitter against the smoker who tossed his cig in the brush! :)

Me & You Makes ... One

2008-03-11T20:11:00.000-07:00

Rain is on me like the skin on a tomato. In the last two weeks, she's that I can do two things: play with her and watch her play. When I deviate from these, punishment is swift.

Two weeks ago, I cancelled my gym membership. The first reason I did this was because the gym closed too early for me to make use of it. The second reason--the real reason--is because I couldn't find anyone to babysit Rain while I worked out. The gym I was going to had a daycare, but guilt kept me from dropping Rain off. Do I really believe one of those lovely young girls working in the daycare would harm Rain? No. But, I worked in a preschool program before, and let me tell you, kids can hurt each other faster than you can say "lawsuit." The plain truth is that kids who can't defend themselves (can't run away from a situation or articulate to an adult what the problem is) are punching bags for the kids who can. I'm not only referring to bullies, either. There are kids who, because of their size, hurt other children without meaning to. Some kids play rough with their brothers and expect to play the same way with new friends. I want to go back to the gym eventually but not until Rain can walk and speak well enough to help herself. Unfortunately, that means another two years or so.

Hmmm.

I'm about 180 miles south of where I wanted to be in this blog entry, so let me get back on topic. OK, so I cancelled my gym membership, right? I went out and spent a pretty penny on new athletic shoes, weights, an exercise ball, and 2 workout DVDs. I've never owned exercise DVDs before, so I was excited to see how I'd do. I set Rain in her chair, gave her some snacks, and got to it.

Wow. The first DVD was fun and challenging, too. I loved it for about ... 15 minutes. This is when Rain realized I wasn't paying attention to her anymore. Sure, she had snacks and could see me five feet away, but I wasn't keeping eye contact with her. I couldn't play or talk to her while trying to follow the instructor. She cried and fussed so much that I put her on the floor. I figured she'd be happy once I let her crawl around.

How 'bout a big glass of NO? She was mad, mad, mad. She grabbed onto my feet, wailed, and crawled between my legs. At one point, I was standing doing weights while she stood with one hand on each of my knees. Hercules tried to topple me over, and I had to dance around the room to keep away. Ridiculous! I told her so, too.

"Baby, Mommy gave up her gym membership to make things easier for the both of us. Please don't be selfish," I said. Rain, of course, didn't care or understand. Her idea of exercise is, "Drop and give me 20 ... minutes of cuddling!" After starting and stopping the DVD several times, I quit. I took a shower to calm down. I was bitter. Why couldn't I have 30 minutes to do something that was good for me?

Tune in next time for "Cages: A Baby's Best Friend."

Where's My Mama?

2008-03-04T14:56:00.001-08:00

MISSING MAMA?

Texas mom missing. Was last seen with infant daughter (who has had several days of diarrhea, low fever, and diaper rash). Mom had headache and congestion. She was last heard mumbling, "I'm too old for this." For more information, please call 1-800-NANNYS. Leave your name, number, and hours of availability--er--tips.

Nobody Told Me

2008-02-29T00:56:00.000-08:00

The one thing nobody told me before I had Rain was how LONG it would be before I ever had a FULL, decent night's sleep. Don't you come to me with the whole "technically a full night's sleep is five hours for a baby" because I ain't no baby!

Fair Warning: bitter mother up ahead

So, it's bedtime now. 12:50, and I'm finally going to sleep. The last time I slept from ten at night to eight in the morning was when I was in my first trimester. That, my friends, was one year and two months ago.

The worst part is, some of my most brain-requiring work happens after ten o'clock. The other night I was looking over someone's paper for critique, and I kept typing "too much" too much. The sentence I typed read something like, "Don't say this too much, because if you say it too much, it will come out too much the same way." What? The next morning after reading what I had written, I felt like putting a sign on my forehead: "Out for lunch. Will be back in one year."

Tonight, while Tim and I were working on our respective computers, the baby started crying. Tim went to check on her.

That was an hour ago. I get the feeling Tim passed by our bed and was sucked in.

Goodnight, children. Grandma Dowdel must go to sleep now. She must check on her family, but she cautions you this: cherish your sleep. One day, not many days hence, you may find yourself with a child at dawn. You will mock the days when you stayed up until three in the morning--wait for it--because you wanted to. There was actually a place you wanted to be, a book you wanted to read, or a movie you wanted to see that you willingly kept your eyes open for. Hahahaha! Be careful that today you don't use your sleep unwisely too much, else one day you'll feel too much that too much time has been wasted too much ...

More Product Placement

2008-02-28T21:23:00.000-08:00

A long time ago, in a far away blog, I gave a list of the best stuff I bought (or was given) while I was pregnant. Today, I offer the follow-up:

THE BEST STUFF EVER FOR BABIES (9 months and younger, anyway)

1. Babypack AKA Baby carrier
We loved our Bjorn carrier. It was the the only way I could make myself a bowl of cereal and hold Rain at the same time. Turkey sandwich for lunch? Don't talk crazy: that took too much time to prepare, my friend.
2. Side-snap shirts
Sometimes, the kiddo needs to be in a basic diaper & tee combo. You'll quickly realize that outfits that have to go over the head of a newborn are annoying.
3. Warehouse club membership
Rain used about 20 diapers a day until she was 3 or 4 months old. Now she's down to 10 or 11. Buying diapers at a grocery store is best left to emergency situations. Pampers charges plenty for adhesive and cotton. Buy in bulk, or expect to balk.
4. Swing
We had a great, basic swing from Graco (SnugGlider) that we could drop Rain's car seat (also Graco) into. When she fell asleep in the car, we could take her out and put her right into the vibrating swing for an extra twenty minutes or so of peace.
5. Essential Meds
Tylenol Infant Drops for fever? Check. Mylicon Drops for gas? Check. Baby Orajel for teething? Check. Speaking of teething, try Baby Safe Feeder Starter Kit (mesh bag with a ring that's easy for babies to hold). Pop some cold fruit in there, and baby is happy. Frozen (slightly defrosted) mini bagels work well, too.
6. Car Seat Gallery (by Manhattan Toy)
This inexpensive display kept Rain distracted on boring car rides. Remember to rotate the pictures often.
7. Bumbo
I LOVED Rain's Bumbo seat. It was the mini throne that opened her eyes to the vertical world (also, a good way to keep the back of her head from flattening ... sorry, no joking here).

FOR BREASTFEEDING MOMS ...
1. Electric pump
Seriously, ladies, don't waste your time with the manual pumps. I know you want to save money (hey, having a newborn around ain't cheap), but this is not the place to do it. Trust me, after 3 or 4 sessions manually pumping milk, you'll wish you had scrounged the cash for the electric.
2. Nursing bras
Victoria's secret? She never nursed a baby. So, get some stylish nursing bras (I have several, including one that's a tank top), because the regular ones won't do. Some hospitals have breastfeeding centers that will help you out, so take advantage of them.
3. Soothies Gel Pads
When you're starting out, you'll need all the help gel can provide. Be generous with the lanolin cream, too, if you need it.
4. Sock
Yep, a nice big rolled up sock. I learned this trick from one of the many books I read while prego. If you're tired of holding up your gals while trying to feed your newborn, use a sock underneath for support.

Hope this helps future mamas. Feel free to post other cool baby products, 'cause it's Us vs. Them--the babies, I mean--so, be armed!

The Optimist

2008-02-26T20:36:00.000-08:00

The Optimist in our house is by far the most persistent.

At 2:30 P.M. every day, I am in bed. The Optimist rests next to me. My objective is to put her to sleep then sneak away. I nurse her, hoping she'll make up for the nap she skipped at noon. The Optimist will allow her breathing to slow and even her eyes to close. After five minutes, when my own eyelids feel heavy, her eyes flicker open. She pulls away and gets on all fours. She says, "Uh-toy-toy-toy," looks out a nearby window, and smiles. Translation: "Thanks for the refreshment, silly Mommy. Where shall we go?" She looks at me.

My eyelids are closed. I'm watching her through my eyelashes. Simultaneously, I'm grieving that she is, once again, refusing to take a nap. Naps are great. If she doesn't want one, I DO.

The Optimist smiles at me. This smile is sincere in that she hopes I, too, am awake. When she sees that I don't appear to be, the smile disappears. There is work ahead. She crawls over to my face. Closer. She lifts her finger high, and sticks it in my nose.

Mommy is quick, however. Unlike her opponent, she remembers the same treatment from the day before. Instead of dropping the pretense, I snore.

The Optimist is disappointed, but not swayed. She crawls on top of me. She steps on my belly, digs her head into my side. When no satisfying end is reached, she takes a handful of hair. I brace myself. She yanks two or three times before falling back on her diaper to reassess the situation. She scans the room and realizes she can't continue her exploration of the world until I wake up and move her to the floor. Even if she got to the floor on her own, what good is discovering the world if Mommy isn't there to see it? Who would want to miss out on the 1-cm. long, black thread tucked under the ottoman?

The Optimist pats my face, babbles, and smiles a bit more. She won't give up; she can't give up. Something instinctual tells her to keep hoping, trying. She moves within an inch of my face, hoping to smoke me out. Finally, she crawls next to me. She squeezes close, puts her hand on my heart, and lays her head on my shoulder. It is the exact same position Mommy loves to sleep in when she takes a nap with Daddy. How does she know? Was she born knowing?

"Mommy's a sucker," I say. The Optimist smiles and giggles, knowing we're off to explore the world once more.

Baby Beater

2008-02-21T20:30:00.000-08:00

Seriously, I do not beat my baby.

I know, she's got several bruises on her face, so blame the sleep-deprived mom, right?

The truth is, my kid is trying to kill herself. That's the way babies are. They sit around (in their own poo, no less) and think, "Dying young ... that has a ring to it." If they can't end their lives completely, they hope to at least injure themselves, preferably with internal bleeding.

Yesterday, I gave Rain a metal mixing bowl and spoon to play with, as I have many times before. She likes to beat the bowl like a drum. Pretty innocuous, no? This time, she tried to press down on one side of the bowl (in an effort to use it to stand, I think). The other side of the bowl flew up and rammed her in the face.

Rain cried.

Later, Tim let Rain crawl around in the kitchen. Her hand slipped. Whack! Her face slapped the floor. Tim rushed to her, hoping she would do that crazy thing kids do sometimes when they are smacked real good and get back up like nothin'.

Rain cried.

Then I put her in pajamas (you know, the ones with the feet attached). I didn't put one foot in all the way, I guess, because there was extra cloth flapping from it. She tried to stand in her crib. She slipped on the cloth, and--no surprise--fell face-first into the slats. Another no surprise:

Rain cried.

Afterwards, she decided to up the ante. She scooted past my laptop, all casual-like. She yanked the power cord out, popped the end into her mouth, and started sucking on it. Yes, the cord was plugged into the wall.

It made Mommy want to cry.

... All I Have to Do, is Dream, Dream, Dream

2008-02-19T23:35:00.000-08:00

My husband isn't a dreamer. I don't mean that in some metaphysical sort of way, I mean when he goes to sleep at night, it's for keeps. None of that pointless meandering around Dreamland.

About a month before Rain was born, he told me he had a dream that I had given birth. In fact, he had delivered our baby. He didn't know if it was a boy or girl (he only saw dark hair), but the thing that struck him was the baby's eyes. They were dark, focused, and seemed to look through him.

When Rain was born, he saw those same eyes. Instead of being terrified (like I would've), he said he felt "comforted."

Meanwhile ...

Before Rain came, I was worried that I wouldn't have an instant love for her. As the first weeks of dealing with a fitful newborn wore on, my doubts compounded. I thought, "What if I don't love her? What if I never love her?" Those are the kind of thoughts that slide in and out of a guilty mind right before sleep. This, of course, made me dream all sorts of scenarios in which I failed as a mother. Then I had this one dream ...

I was walking along a beach with Rain. It was sunny, but the water was churning. The wind picked up, and clouds rolled in. Quickly the tide rose and alarms sounded. Everyone ran inland, but the water came too fast. It was at my ankles when I turned to run. Rain was in my arms. I saw a metal pole--tall as a tree--with a wide base. I climbed to the top as the water rushed onto the beach. The surge washed over everyone, and I clung to the poll. As the water pushed against me, Rain pulled farther away. I tried to tighten my grip, but she slid away from me in one strong gush. The waves pushed over me, and everything was quiet. Finally, the waves went back to the ocean. I limped down from the poll, crying and moaning for my baby. There was no one on the beach. It felt like the Apocalypse. Ahead was a tall building, where it looked like survivors might be. But I just stood there, wanting to die. I didn't want to be saved, I wanted to go out with the water like Rain.

Then, I heard a buzzing sound overhead. I looked up, and there she was. She was a naked cherub. She had 2 tiny wings, beating the air like a hummingbird's, and she was giggling. She had saved herself. When I grabbed her, the wings went away. You think I cared to question the wings? Rain was alive and we were together.

That dream answered how I felt about Rain. I want to be her snow globe. She can be a crazy, happy, all-over-the-place kid ... as long as I'm allowed to be the shatter-proof glass that protects her. And, yet, in the dream, she didn't need me to guard her ...

These Knees are Made for Crawling

2008-02-18T07:51:00.000-08:00

Rain has been making knee tracks all over since she's learned to crawl. This is good ("Oh, you want to crawl to mommy? Ok, mama loves you, too." Don't shirk--things get much ooey-gooer than that) and bad ("Please get out of the kitchen, honey, mommy hasn't swept in there yet. Now, see? Get that walnut out of your mouth ..."). The most interesting turn of events is that now I have a new window into Rain's mind. The closest thing I've had to this before was when she began eating solid foods. For once, with a turn of her head (actually, more like a batting away of her hands) I knew when she didn't like something. When she ate something she enjoyed (Gerber puffy sweet potato stars are her current fave), she opened her mouth wide and swallowed quickly. Some stuff surprised me (papaya, peas, and prunes), and some stuff I expected (cheese--she wouldn't be genetically mine if she didn't like cheese).

Now that Rain is mobile, I finally get to see which toys she actually likes. No longer can I plop her in front of something and expect her to be mildly interested if she isn't. She still loves her stacking cups, but her big blocks? Not so much. She loves holding on to her high chair legs as if they are monkey bars. Who knew she had a thing for the wooden puzzles after all? What's her deal with the red, tiny stacking cup anyway? Or the plastic sheep she carries around in her mouth.

I guess I'm saying that it's kind of neat to see her act independently of me.

Until she tries to climb off my bed. And tear down the Venetian blinds. And eat tiny specks of unidentifiable material off the carpet. And escape from her crib. And pull the wires from the modem. And eat a stray walnut from the floor.

Which I had to dig out of her mouth.

Which she didn't want to give back.

Which made me accidentally jab her sore gum.

Which made her cry.

Check, please.

Greatness

2008-02-14T16:43:00.000-08:00

True greatness:

http://www.ignitermedia.com/products/iv/singles/570/99-Balloons

Don Rain

2008-02-14T02:40:00.000-08:00

Don Rain,

I hope I have not offended you with my comments yesterday. When I told your grandmother that you were, "Killing me slowly," I was only jesting. Please do not hold it against me, and in fact, kill me slowly. Permit me to explain myself. I was merely referring to the past 2 weeks in which I have not slept well due to my Don's teething. If you will recall, my honorable Don has risen from bed as early as 2 A.M. Then again at 4 A.M. And 5. Please forgive my weakness!

Rumors that I have placed my Don on EBAY (Item #987654321, Going fast, Sunday Sunday only, we'll beat any deal) are unfounded. Why would I want to free myself from the generous burden my Don has placed upon me? Why would I desire to to sleep, catch up on chores, have groceries in my home, get my work done, or visit friends when I can attend to your every early morning need? I live but to serve.

Remember, Don Rain, if I may be so bold: today is Valentine's Day. Please have mercy upon me this day, for as you know, my allegiance lies with you, and only you. (Your worn-out, slowly dying, groggy manservant--the one I refer to as my "husband"--can not compare to your wondrous nature.)

May you live forever! (*Scrambles away to fetch rose petals to sprinkle*)

Spidey Baby, Spidey Baby, Does Whatever ...

2008-01-18T09:08:00.000-08:00

Whoooooooah! Rain is almost mobile, run! Save yourselves!

She's an accident waiting to happen; do you want to be the one present when it does?

Examples:
1. The dry cleaners put our clothes on the hook in my car's backseat. I thought nothing of it until I heard plastic crumpling. Rain had reached over and tried to suffocate herself.

2. I let her stand and hold the edge of our padded coffee table where I was working. I turned around for a second. When I looked back, she was chewing on my laptop cable.

3. I forget how long Rain's arms are now. My apologies to if I've visited your home recently.

4. "Are you having fun with Mama's plastic hangers, Rainbow? Aren't they fun to bang together? Oh--no, don't put the hook in your mouth--oh, see? Don't cry, honey, Mommy's sorry ..."

5. I forget how long Rain's legs are now. I've underestimated the clearance it takes to get her through a doorway when I'm carrying her on her side.

6. It's wonderful to create a hunger for books in your child. It's undesirable for her to actually have a hunger for books.

I'm too embarrassed to go on, but let's just say poor Rain has had the wind knocked out of her on more than one occasion (forgive me!). Today, she got up on all fours (today's photo). Beware, beware ...

Love Thy Neighbor

2008-01-10T12:00:00.000-08:00

As many of you have guessed by now, Rain has me doing 80 in a 35-mile zone. I can't keep up with her, and every day she's becoming an accident waiting to happen (Head Bruise Count: Me = 6, Tim = 2).

But, today I saw something that made me skid to a stop. In Omaha, something happened that I think says something about us. After watching the video, tell me: what was so important, what was so urgent, that no one, from family to neighbors, could tear themselves away from to prevent this:

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2008/01/10/mom.kid.found.dead.kptm

I shudder to think what this says about people. Beyond that, I don't want to imagine what that child did in desperation before he fell asleep for the last time.

May God take care of that little boy the way those around him did not.

The RAINdeer

2007-12-27T11:12:00.000-08:00

There are so many things I wish I had the time and elegance to tell you about our adventure raising Rain. Today she is 7 months old. Some days I feel like she is on her way to being a brilliant, kind citizen of this world. Other days, I feel like she'll be writing her memoir from prison, and I will be the person she will acknowledge as the key influence in her life.

I don't know how it is for other mothers; I can only tell you my experience. My experience so far is this: every single day, because of Rain, I constantly reassess the person that I am. Am I too stern? Too lenient? Do I show her how to love? Is she playing enough? Learning enough? I guess if I had to strip it down, I'm really asking myself, "What do I look like to her?"

The pressure is on, folks. The plain truth is, if Rain is a horrible 5-year-old in a few years, there is no one to blame but myself. TV, grandparents, friends--there is no greater influence on her life than my husband and me, but let's be blunt: I am her central manual for How to be a Decent Human. I am with her the majority of the day. No one is in contact with her more than me. *shiver*

This was our first Christmas with Rain. We watched her gleefully tear apart wrapping paper from all the gifts she received from friends and family. She was thrilled with the paper, and the fact that there were gifts hidden inside was fun, too. She was happy just to have us there to play with her. I thought, "This is Christmas."

So, to everyone who has followed our journey with Rain since I was pregnant at this time last year until now: Happy Holidays! Peace and joy in the new year.

I Only Have Eyes for You ...

2007-12-13T13:20:00.000-08:00

My husband had Lasik done almost 2 weeks ago. This has been a trying time for all of us. Ladies, you should all know up front that Lasik doesn't actually improve your husband's home eyesight.

Tim: "Where's the remote?"
Me: "Next to you. Did you even look for it? Didn't think so ..."

So, to get the best rate for his Lasik, Tim went out of state where my brother-in-law works. Rain & I were left at home for three days to figure out how to survive without a mediator. Turns out, we need a mediator.

We had fun, to be sure. Let me just say this now to all those broken, forlorn parents out there with crying infants at home: just wait. When your kiddo gets close to 6 months old--well, it's golden. Yeah, they can still scream to resurrect the dead, but they laugh, too. They're all smiles when you walk into the room, and wait until you see them sit up and finally, yes finally, entertain themselves! And they eat, too! No longer does every single meal depend on mommy being present or mommy storing breastmilk ahead-of-time. Little jars of gold--baby food--can be bought/served by anyone in the family, releasing you from serving food 24 hours a day on call like IHOP.

OK, I'm getting carried away and can't remember what I was talking about in the beginning. *Rereading* OK, so Tim left town for Lasik, right? Well, our family dynamic changed, too. Before, I would've thought, "A baby won't notice if one parent splits town for a few days. They don't even care because, well, they're babies."

The little things shined a light on Tim's absence. I would give Rain her nightly bath and bottle like Tim does every night, and during the feeding she'd give me this look like, "How come I'm not getting my goods from the tap, since you're here? What's with the bottle?"

"I don't know," I felt like saying, "This is just the way we do it." When I'd take away the bottle, she'd turn to me for nursing, but change her mind and go back to the bottle. In the evenings, when Tim normally comes home from work, we'd get all energetic again. Rain usually takes a nap to prep herself for playtime with daddy, but at 7:00, we'd be staring at each other like, "What's next?" I couldn't start my work until she was asleep, so we'd just play quietly until it was time for bed.

I ended up going out more than normal. I kept myself out of the apartment a lot, in fact. When I did stay home, I found that I became too much of a putz with Rain. Is she cried trying to fall asleep (which she does every night), I'd run in there to save her (read: train her to depend on my presence to relax). Tim is so hardcore; he can hear Rain wail and say, "She'll fall asleep eventually." And she always does.

Truth be told, Tim's the one who got her to hold her bottle when she was only a few months old. I was too busy sMOTHERing her to think about her independence. Even when we leave the apartment, I act as though Rain's still a newborn:

Me: "Why did you put her in her car seat already? I'm not finished dressing, and she hates sitting in her seat as it is. At least give her a toy ..."
Tim: (*stares at me until I feel shame, then resumes casually getting baby bag together*)

Tim's home now, thank goodness. Rain and I needed our buffer back.

Epilogue (days after Lasik):
Tim: "Wow, the tub looks so clean. Did you scrub it?"
Me: "Yeah, like two weeks ago."
Tim: "Oh ... it's because I can finally see the tub floor."

AND

Tim: "I have wrinkles under my eyes."
Me: "You do?"
Tim: "Maybe I've always had them ..."

Crystal Ball

2007-12-04T19:32:00.000-08:00

So, I volunteered to take my almost-four-year-old niece to swimming lessons. I see my niece regularly, but this is something just the two of us are doing. Her mama, my sister, is very pregnant, so she stays home and watches Rain while we go a swimmin'.

Syrene, my niece, was a butterball of a baby. Now she's a petite shorty of a kid, so people often talk to her like she's two. The fact that she talks like an anime character doesn't help. And she's clever. Creepily clever. She always thinks before she answers, and that's a skill most people don't master until they're thirty, if ever.

As I was driving her to her lesson yesterday, I watched her in my rearview mirror. She smiles like her father, but her expressions and mannerisms are my sister's. She can carry a tune, so when I started improvising, "We're going to the Y-M-C-A ...," she picked it up right away. We passed a restaurant we'd eaten at over two weeks before, and I said, "Do you remember when we ate there?" Before I could say the name of the restaurant, she said, "Yeah. I got a balloon there, but it popped." She was right, and I reminded myself that her memory is not that of a one-year-old anymore.

I took her to her lesson, and waited in the parents' seating area. I could see her through the windows. I felt like her mom. Would she behave? Would she play with the other kids? Would she make friends? What if the kids didn't like her?

After a few minutes, she was taking turns with the other kids. She smiled and giggled but didn't talk much. Her eyes were feeding in and figuring out like they always are. She paddled as the instructor guided her through the water, and I remembered the chubby baby she was that Christmas Day.

Today I watched Syrene playing in the water while she waited for her class to begin. I got lost in my thoughts. "That's going to be Rain someday," I thought. "She'll learn new things, make friends, grow up." I was proud and sad at the same time. Syrene's a great kid, but she won't be a kid forever. Rain is a great baby, but she won't be a baby forever.

Then from the pool I heard singing. The squeaky voice made me laugh: "Were at the Y-M-C-A! We're at the Y-M-C-Aaaa ..."

Tah-dah!

2007-12-02T22:07:00.000-08:00

When I look at Rain's newborn pictures, she looks like most newborns (read: sack of flour). She was kind of like a knickknack: wherever you put her was where she stayed. I remember the day she finally batted at one of her overhead toys instead of stared at it. I was cheering, "Get it! Get it! That's right, knock it down!" To see her interacting physically with the world was exciting.

The funny thing about the way Rain is growing now is that I thought things would happen gradually. If I want to learn a new sport, I expect that practice over time will give me the results I desire (or something acceptable, anyway). But with Rain, she just does stuff. There's no real build-up to things; one day she can't do something, and the next day she can.

It's almost creepy when it happens. I'll look away for a minute, and when I look back, she's doing something I've never seen before. One day I was reading a book about the kind of things a baby should be able to do at Rain's age. "This says that soon she'll be able to pass an object from one hand to another. That seems a bit complicated ..." (*lowers book to see Rain passing teether from hand to hand*). Two weeks ago, I remember thinking, "I wonder when Rain's going to be able to sit up, even if it's just for a few seconds. She's still so shaky." My sister plopped Rain on the floor, and voila! Since that day, she's been able to sit up for minutes at a time. Today I was sitting next to Rain who was in her car seat. I heard a rattling sound and knew it was from the toy hanging from the car seat's handle. Rain had figured out how to pull it and make it rattle. It's hard to pull, and so I've always pulled it for her. She made it rattle again. I was like, "But you've only batted at it one or twice before. How did you--? Hmm."

Tomorrow: Rain gets her driving permit. OK, maybe not yet, but it wouldn't surprise me.

Happy Anniversary to Me

2007-11-30T07:36:00.000-08:00

Today Tim & I have been married for 5 years. As I like to tell people, "Five down, two to go." Hehehe. We've been married for five and have known each other for ten. Two nights ago, reflecting upon our upcoming anniversary, I told Tim that the one event that had the most physical and emotional impact was Rain's birth. He agreed. Sometimes, I still can't believe Rain is here. She is unlike anything we imagined and has changed the dynamics of this family forever.

And yet ...

Yesterday, I saw a talk show about new mothers and depression. Each of them described, during their darkest moments, the violent things they envisioned happening to their children. Some women in the audience seemed appalled. As I listened to the mothers confess their thoughts--crying from the shame--I remembered those first three months with Rain. When she cried, howled, and screamed, didn't Tim & I feel anger and despair? Of course. We were mad we couldn't pacify her and disappointed in ourselves for feeling that way.

I wanted to shout through the TV screen, "The feeling will pass! Don't feel guilty. Things do get better!" I held Rain up, kissed her, hugged her--I wish those women knew that we were OK now. The one thing I had that those women did not was support.

Because I'm blessed with Tim and a nutty (but loving) family, Rain & I are going to be all right. Yes, there will come a day when Rain will slam a door in my face because she's angry, and I'll take the hinges off her door to teach her a lesson, but we're going to make it. Without Tim's support, though, who can say what I was capable of? I can honestly say that it would've been better for me not to have children, than try to be a mother without Tim.

Tim, Happy 5th Anniversary!

Warning! Subliminal message to follow: Tim, you're the sweetest DIAMOND, generous, and most NECKLACE thoughtful husband to me. Thank you DIAMOND for being a wonderful father to Rain. Here's to many more NECKLACE years!

Food Fight

2007-11-25T21:24:00.000-08:00

Now that I resemble the turkey I roasted for Thanksgiving (darn you, pumpkin pie! Why do you have to call my name, apple pie a la mode? What do I have to do with thee, cheesecake?), I figure I'll relate what's been going on in my realm of chicken entrees and jarred sweet potatoes.

Food is a sensitive topic in this family. This began when I was pregnant. I was militant during my first 2 trimesters about what I ate ("Must have 2 more servings of whole-grains, 1 more vegetable ..."). The last few weeks, my lower back throbbed in pain, and I was in no shape to cook or care. I ate whatever Tim brought home from a local restaurant. Tim's not into sugar substitutes or anything that sounds like fats have been liberated (fat-free, sugar-free, etc.), so most nights we ate poorly. After Rain was born, I had to go back to watching what I ate.

By then, food had lost its appeal. Most of my meals were cold (from stepping away to change, calm, or feed Rain) or hurried. My attention shifted from what I was eating to what Rain was eating. What she getting enough milk? Should we supplement with formula?

Now we've entered the next stage in the evolution of food's place in our home: how should we shape Rain's eating habits? When Rain was 3.5 months old, she began watching me eat with interest. At first, the action itself was mildly entertaining enough to watch. After 2 weeks, she seemed to realize that somehow I was getting satisfaction in a way she hadn't. We decided to give her rice cereal. Three days later, she'd squirm with anticipation when she saw us mixing cereal with her baby spoon. Every time she would end up with cereal or oatmeal in her hair, on her seat, dripping from her legs, splattered on her shirt, in her nose, dried on her ears, across her face--but, she was happy. Two weeks ago, we introduced her first food: sweet potatoes.

True love, that match was. Tomorrow we venture (again) into the world of pureed carrots. We tried today, and she was like, "Um, sweet potatoes?" Besides this, Rain now stares me down when I eat. She sticks her tongue out, asking, "Just a bit won't hurt me, so come on, ma ..." It's getting to where I'm eating on the sly ("Look at this stuffed pony! Isn't he cute?" *gobble, gobble, gobble*) rather than see the pleading eyes. I'm questioning more and more of what I put on my own plate, too. Don't I want Rain to see me eat lots of veggies and fruits? So, I force myself to eat tomatoes (bleh), more greens (no real problems with this, just a pain to prepare), and, though I never thought I'd see the day, soy chicken patties.

Oh for the days when eating was as simple as, "Can I have the #2 ... with extra cheese?"

This Episode: "Keys" OR ...

2007-11-20T09:07:00.000-08:00

"The Straw That Almost Broke This Camel's Back"

About 2 weeks ago, I had a pity party (you didn't get your invitation? Lucky you ...). I was telling Tim that I felt like I've spread myself thin these past few months. There are several reasons for this: (1) I've tried to take on many projects at one time like I did before Rain was born; (2) People think I'm just chillin' at my crib (a.k.a. "stay-at-home mom"), so they feel like I should be available 24-7 (ex: calling me at the last minute to perform favors or meet up, volunteering my services, etc.); and (3) I can't stop myself from "helping" people (read: enabling). That last one is the trickiest. I want to help, but frankly, a lot of the time I end up babysitting grown men and women. Sometimes, a person's definition of receiving help is "please just do it for me." The problem with doing things for people that they are capable of doing themselves is that they lose their desire to do things on their own. You know what I'm talking about; we've all enabled someone before. Point is, the stress of trying to be everything to everyone got to me a few weeks ago. The final incident that put the last shovel-full of dirt on my grave was this: I lost my keys.

I misplace things about once a week, but I usually recover them within a day or two. Anyone who has lost a set of keys knows the drill: the first day, you console yourself with, "They'll turn up soon." You take a quick look around the house and check your car. After a day or two, you, the eternal optimist says, "Perhaps I left them at my sister's place. I should call and ask about them." By day 3 and 4, you're calling everybody. The coffee shop, grocery store, library--everybody gets a phone call. By day 5, you'll even call your mother ("Honey, you lost your keys again? I've told you a thousand times to ..."). After checking your house (again), and car (again), and calling your sister with an accusatory tone ("Are you SURE they're not there?"), you resign yourself to the task of rebuilding your key set. Forget about the gaudy, and thankfully irreplaceable, key chain you bought in New Mexico, what about the keys to your safe, file cabinets, house, mom's place, mailbox, etc.? And all the grocery store key tags? What about those??

For some reason, losing my keys became a symbol of the loss of pattern, control, and all things systematic I loved about my former life. I felt like I'd never be able to do more than tread water when it came to scheduling, being on time, doing all the things I need to get done.

So, after talking with Tim, we decided I need to pull back. I have to stop micromanaging everyone's life around me. I can give guidance, but it's time to stop doing things for fully-capable people.

I let that sink in for a few days.

Yesterday, I found my keys. They were under my car seat, a place Tim & I had checked 3 or 4 times. It was a sign.

I thanked God I wasn't losing my mind, and that things were manageable. The next chance I got, I called Tim. "Guess what?" I said, still thrilled. "I found my keys! A while ago I found my keys in the car. I wanted to call you right then and tell you, but I can't find my cellphone ..."

BFF

2007-11-16T12:17:00.000-08:00

So, you think I went on vacation did ya? Thought I was out having oodles of fun and neglecting my updates, eh? Nay, I say, nay! I've just been weathering some changes, that's all. I've had no recognizable schedule for the past 2 weeks (and if you have to ask why, you're probably not at fault, so no worries) for reasons I'll explain another time. Now, onto the latest about Rainbow ...

Well, as you can see from the photo, Rain has chosen her best friend forever. Remember the days when Rain only had eyes for me? I don't, either. She's Tim's lady now. I can tell the way they giggle together as he gives her a bath. They laugh and chat, and I walk in to bring Rain's towel, and she looks at me like, "Did anyone call you, Milkmaid? Be gone!" Every morning/afternoon, Rain cries for me to feed her every time she has a whim for a snack. If Tim watches her, and I call to check up on them, he'll say, "We haven't used a bottle yet. She's happy and playing." *Stab in heart*

I have a theme song I sing when they are together: "Me and my dad ... AND NOBODY ELSE!" It's catchy, trust me. The other day, Rain cried for 45 minutes. She got into this hysterical rhythm that I haven't heard since she was 2 months old. The second, and I mean, the second Tim walked in, silence. She smiled and was like, "Carry me away, Father, from this treacherous caretaker." Tim picked her up, and they walked away, peacefully into the sunset ... or well-lit kitchen, can't quite recall.

My Girl

2007-11-04T22:20:00.000-08:00

Ever since the incident (which I shall now refer to as the "FALL of 2007") when I won my BMOY award, Rain & I have changed. Now, I am distrustful of everything. I don't trust Rain's blankie (suffocation risk), rattle (choking hazard), crib (strangulation waiting to happen), or fuzzy stuffed animals (germs, at the very least). When Rain fell from our bed, she had been screaming about her sore gums (teeth still haven't shown up, by the way). It was her flopping about that caused the tumble, but it didn't matter. I blame myself completely and have since doubled my efforts to pad her life with pillows.

By the way, Tim's reaction:
Me: I'm a terrible mother! She fell right on the floor, and now she probably has internal bleeding!

Tim: Honey, I'm sure she's fine. Babies are made tough, so don't feel bad. I've dropped Rain several times and never told you.

Me: Really??

Tim: No.

As for Rain, well, the next day she hardly cried about her teeth. "Maybe she thinks the punishment for crying about her teeth is getting dropped on the floor??" I told Tim. The day after that, she stopped crying about her teeth altogether. Since then, she's softly chewed on her finger when they bother her. I haven't had to run for the Baby Orajel in days. Better still, she's been getting up at almost 8 A.M. every morning. 8:00, people!

When she gets more sleep, wow. She's so much happier. She has giggled more in the last few days than she ever has. She's all about cuddles and playtime. When I walk in the room, she smiles and does her best to get me to snuggle her. Some days--let's be real now--Mommyhood can be a cold crust of bread. Today, it was a glazed chocolate, cream-filled Shipley's doughnut. Ooooo, doughnut ...