I want to be British and say things like "bloke" "straight away" and "alright mate" ... just a random aside. For a little dose of cool Brit talk and an awesome interview with Jamie Oliver of "Naked Chef" fame on his thoughts on fatherhood check out Brian's blog.
In other news - Chapter 5 is finished! Woohoo. Also, Sam seems to be days away from walking.
Sam's breakfast: yogurt, blueberries, kale, avocado, bananas, tofu and a bit of oatmeal cereal
My breakfast: 16 oz day-old coffee and plans to eat more later
Hmmm. Must work on this. The whole lead by example thing and all ... He is nappingas I write this. Yes, napping. IN HIS CRIB. Excuse me while I go try to "do everything" before he wakes up. Maybe even eat.
First, she steals my boyfriend. Now she took my son's unique name and changed the conversation he will have about it for the rest of his life. Damn her. I'm talking about none other than the Fabulous Angelina Jolie.
Sam's middle name is Knox. I love it. We usually get the "hmm. Knox. Is that a family name?" Which is code for "what the hell kind of name is that?"
I just got word that Brad and Angelina named their newborn boy Knox. So now the conversation will go more like this:
Knox? Like Angelina Jolie's kid?
Yes. Because Matt and I are so into the celebrity scene we would name our first born after Brangelina's baby. I must say though, she has excellent taste.
Sam's official first word: Dada ... Da Da Dada ... said while waving and/or pointing to Matt. This picture was taken after a hard day's work - for both of them.
This entry in my journal from last night sort of sums things up: Matt built a wall today. An entire wall from scratch. Sheetrock and everything. I went to Winco and made a squash pie. With store bought crust.
One of the more frustrating things about the division of labor at our house is the fact that when Matt does stuff it's big. Matt's contributions to our household come in the form of steady paychecks and the kinds of things you take pictures of- building walls, bookshelves, tables, etc. Who takes pictures of piles of laundry? Besides me I mean? How do you take a picture of the hour long call to deal with health insurance issues? Exactly. Redefining the measure of my success is something I'm working on as we near the end of my first year as a work from home mom.
I feel judged at every turn, by others and myself. When I really stop to take stock, I'm proud of what I'm doing and pleased with the progress of our family, household and my career. Life, I'm noticing, is more about the pursuit of happiness and learning to take pleasure in the journey than any of the specific details that make up our days.
This conversation the other day really got me thinking about how I see myself in this new role. It also made me even more committed to telling the truth on my terms because I don't think this mother of two grown children is remembering her early days on the path very clearly.
"So how are things going?" An acquaintance I like asks.
"Pretty good." Stock answer.
"Yeah?" She sounds genuinely interested.
"I mean, you know," I shrug. "Sam's awesome and I'm just sort of trying to adjust and get things figured out."
"Like what?"
"Oh. Everything." She gives me a blank face. "Just things like how to get things done, routines, and stuff so that simple, every day things aren't stressful."
"He's how old? Nine months?" she laughs. "You should've had all that figured out by now."
Seriously? Everything figured out by now? I was kind of thinkin' this was a figure it out as you go kind of deal.
Ouch. I give her the face Amy calls my "face when you're trying not to make a face, face." Keep in mind this is a very nice woman. Someone I truly enjoy seeing and talking to. So double ouch. She didn't mean it, I am sure, as the slap in the face that it was. Nonetheless it left my face (and insides) burning.
So risking criticism (intended or otherwise) is one of the hazards of living inside out. In spite of that, I'm pretty much me all the time. And that is pretty cool.
One of my favorite posts asked you guys for your first impressions based on a character's name. It was fun to read how similar (and how different) some of the impressions were to the characters. Here are a few more from Pants on Fire. If you want to play, same deal:
For each name, tell me what kind of a person you picture in terms of appearance, personality, quirks and habits. And, of course, there are no wrong answers. If you're not into posting online, email me your impressions.
July's Baby on Board column ran today. I was nervous about it because when I submitted it I felt like it wasn't everything I wanted it to be. By the time I submit an assignment I am usually pretty satisfied with the end result. Sometimes I'm even sick of it from correcting and tweaking it so much.
"Sometimes things look better in column inches than Word," Matt assured me. I was holding my breath when I opened the paper and happily exhaled as I realized it read just fine. Matt was right, all the worry was for nothing.
This picture is of my parents and Sam enjoying a cross-continental breakfast/highball.
Did I mention I made a flyer to post around town in search of Giraffe? Matt sent a copy of it
around at work with this note: my son lost his giraffe and my wife lost her mind.
I say mock me if you must, but I'm proud to be that kind of mom. Plus, it worked. Yeah, that's right. Sam was reunited with Giraffe this afternoon after I got this call:
Hi, are you the one with the ad for the giraffe?
Yeah! Did you find it?
No but I got your number from the flyer because I saw it on my friend's porch the other day and recognized it. She picked it up on a walk and wasn't sure what to do about it. You know, I don't normally read flyers but I couldn't help look closer at this one. I thought, 'a baby is missing?'"
Okay. The flyer might've been a little dramatic. Maybe even slightly misleading but come on, people! If my kid was missing I wouldn't be putting up cute little flyers next to the garage sale ads.
Some people (you know who you are) thought maybe the giraffe was missed more by me than Sam. And that might be a little bit true. At least he got over it a lot quicker than I did. But I have to tell you, when he saw Giraffe again his little face lit up in recognition and he reached out for it like he doesn't do with anything else. He wanted to play with it on the way home but I had to wash it first so I compromised and hung it from the top of his stroller. He stroked Giraffe's ear all the way home as he gazed at it adoringly.
Thank you to everyone who looked for Giraffe – from the kids at the skate park to the post office ladies to Amy who noticed I'd put the wrong phone number on the flyer (I was distraught) and especially to Jo who drove all around Portland in search of a replacement.
I know I've been a parent for 8 1/2 months now but every now and then this wave of awe and joy washes over me: wow. I'm a mom! And they don't always come at glamorous moments. Sometimes it's simple, ordinary things that make feel like a total rock star. Or completely crazy.
About tonight. Sam has this stuffed giraffe he loves. It's The One and he picked it - plucked it right out of his crib one day. Since then Giraffe has been faithfully by his side. Until tonight when it mysteriously disappeared. I have looked everywhere I can think of and no dice. I finally took a drive retracing our afternoon walk searching for Giraffe. I even got out and searched around the park.
"Hi, Mrs. Hardy!" A chorus called from the pool. For the first time it occurred to me that it wasn't bedtime for anyone else and I was out in public in my pajama bottoms and nursing tank top.
"Uhhhm. Hi. Hey, have you seen a stuffed Giraffe around here? About this big?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of me as I back away.
Sam managed to fall asleep without him but I'm not sure I will until I figure out what happened to it. Lucy, I have to tell you, is looking pretty smug tonight.
Whenever I'm ignoring being on the verge of falling on my metaphysical ass, I manage to make a big spectacle out of doing it in public. This scene is typically followed by a sprained ankle which forces me to re-evaluate my priorities and methods for honoring them.
Last week, a day after launching Operation Sleeping Sam, I decided to take Sam for a little walk before his bath. It was a short window of time, just enough to go to the post office and back. As I'm pushing the stroller out the door Lucy cocked her head and gave me the look saying: "remember when it was me you used to walk?" Fine. Couldn't find her magic no-pulling leash. Figured she's been improving as we've worked with her more and more. Plus it's a short walk and time is ticking. So out the door we go with a plain old leash.
We have an uneventful trip to the post office where Lucy passes several dogs off leash and ignores them completely. I praise her profusely. As we're walking down Main Street I notice a group of teenagers hanging out near where we usually cross. As a puppy we taught Lucy to run across intersections. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Not so much with the stroller addition. Hmm. I picture myself running across the street with stroller and dog and flash back to junior high. I don't want to embarrass myself. So we walk a little farther. I saw the black lab, tied up, ahead of us. I had a feeling in my stomach. We should go back. But, you know, I didn't want to embarrass myself. We walk toward the next crosswalk.
This part is hard to explain because it happened so fast and I still can't tell you how it all went down. Suddenly the black lab was loose and coming toward Lucy. Lucy jerked herself toward the dog, hackles up. There's a sharp pain in my wrist as she lunges and the dogs tangle under me, the stroller heads into the highway with Sam in it and I'm on my ass in the middle of Main Street with a rolled ankle and desperate grip on the wheels of the stroller until a Nice Stranger rushes over and gets Sam back to safety. Sam, by the way, totally unperturbed by the whole scene. Me? Well, I was a little bit mortified.
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