Nathalie's Notes

Bangs, deadlines and other people's shit

The good news is, my bangs are growing out. Also I have amazing people in my life.

The bad news? We had a pretty shitty weekend around here. Literally.

I always thought my mental breakdown would be all dramatic. Turns out it's more like the slow sssssssssssssssssssssssss of the smart leaking out of my brain ... like the sound of all the air being let out of a very large inflatable swimming pool - with someone pushing really hard to get all the air out before they store it for the winter.

It started like this. Friday around six I'm eager for Matt to get home because it's been a hell of a week and I've still got a lot of articles to write or edit and my deadline is fast approaching. Like I've lost track of how many exactly and haven't made time to count but 60, maybe? And the terms of the project changed so I don't have the cushion between when the salespeople stopped selling and when my articles were due - which translates to daily new assignments, coordinating contact information and interviews and less time to write the articles. I know, lesson learned, but meanwhile ...

So ... I am working from home - why did no one tell me what a joke that is?!? Oh, wait. Some of you did!

Dinner time. As usual there's been no planning ahead so I'm cooking/burning dinner. I've burned dinner so many times and set off the smoke alarms that Lucy automatically bolts for the door when she hears pots coming out of the cupboard or hears the click of the knob turning on the stove. She runs looking over her "shoulder" at me like "aren't you coming too? It's not safe for us here."

Sam is strapped into his highchair clamoring for dinner as he's done with his finger food. The asparagus needed a couple more minutes ten minutes ago, the peppers need to come out of the water NOW or they'll be overcooked too. Phone rings.

It's my friend and neighbor, Lisa.

"Um, is Lucy out?"

"No, she's in the backyard."
"Does she have a fish collar?"

So Lucy is out heading toward the highway/safety. Sam, remember, is in the highchair, dinner is quickly becoming a disaster. Lisa herds Lucy home with her Jeep, Lucy refuses to come in - hello!?! the house could go up in flames at any minute - and I am trying to decide if this is one of those things that will be funny later when my phone rings again. I now have an audience outside as I try to get Lucy inside and can hear Sam yelling from the kitchen.

It's Matt calling to tell me he's on call for his boss this weekend and guess what? He has to respond to a sewage situation at McMinnville High School. He'll be home .... later.

Well, at least it doesn't matter if I screwed up dinner.

So I work late, Sam wakes up every three and a half hours - getting better!! And I rest assured in the fact that Matt will take the Sam Day shift while I work on Saturday.

It was a good plan until he got another call for yet another high profile sewage disaster. Well, shit.

We did hang out for half an hour - 12:45 to 1:15 a.m. over a drink on the porch and it was actually one of those times where it felt like we were really good friends and it didn't matter who picked up dog shit last (no one) ... we were just happy to be home, happy to be together and the rest of it ... details.

 

 

 

So long as I don't embarrass myself

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.

Jealous much?

Mine will be the kid who can't move his arms on snow days. But at least he's warm, right?

We went for a little walk in the snow today and came home to find Lucy had dug through the garbage can full of diapers, raw chicken, coffee grounds and other yummy treats. She made a point to shred one diaper in each room. Also, she got Sam's Rookie Bear teething toy and appears to have dragged it through her path of destruction.

Luckily, I'm a scrapbooker so I pulled my camera out of my pocket and took some pictures of the carnage before commencing my hazmat cleanup.

Lucy Brown strikes back

Lucy's been acting the part of a jealous toddler with little passive aggressive moves like waiting until I have my hands full feeding the baby and then taking something out of the trash, going out of her way to show me she has contraband in her mouth and then trotting upstairs knowing all the while that I don't raise my voice while feeding him and I'm not about to chase up the stairs after her.

I'm learning to get things up out of temptation's way before leaving the house. The other day she supervised me folding laundry. We made eye contact when I put Sam's puppy rattle in the middle of the bed where she couldn't reach it. Then she supervised me putting his miscellaneous baby crap in a basket by his swing-crib. Can't you just see her with a visor, clipboard and badge: Lucy Brown, supervisor?

Sam and I headed out to run some errands. Sam had his little playing possum adventure and then we came home to find a series of surprises left by little Miss. Lucy. First thing I see when I open the door is Sam's puppy rattle showing signs of some rough play. Where do you think I found Lucy? On the middle of the bed in place of Rattle Puppy. I saw she rooted through Sam's basket of baby crap. When I went upstairs to my office I saw she'd left some of his things in the doorway. Message received, Lucy Baby.

Crazy Lucy

Riley and Zoe, picked this little shirt out for Lucy Baby last Christmas. As I fought with her to put it on, I overheard Matt mutter to his brother-in-law, "Well, Nathalie and I used to have a dog. Now Nathalie has a dog."

Best Purchase Ever

A year ago today we headed into town to buy a few little things for our flooring project. And ended up coming home with a little surprise that would change our lives: Little Lucy Baby.

I waited in the truck while Matt ran into the store. I was tired. Or, rather, I thought I was tired. Little did I know we were about to launch one in a series of sleep deprivation exercises. I watched Matt pause at the entrance, bend down, come back up grinning and walk back toward me. Uh-oh. Puppies. I've been avoiding this since 1999. Because I am not a dog person. At all.

Honey. He says it like it's a full sentence. You have to come see this.

No, thanks.

Babe, seriously. They are so cute!

You know I can't just look. So I'm not going to torture myself.

Please just come look.

Fine!

And then I broke all the rules mentioned in the Labradors for Dummies book that I bought after the fact. There was no research. There was no studying all of the dogs until I picked the "best" one. No. Just this one little chocolate pup picked me. Something compelled me to pick her up and she snuggled right into me. And licked my face! And I didn't hate it. In fact, I felt my heart give. I held her until she got really squirmy. I put her down and she took a few steps away to go potty in private. The other dogs were going right there in the middle of everything. So maybe the "best" dog picked me.

Danger. Danger. Danger. A woman from the parking lot was approaching us rather aggressively. She started to lean toward the little chocolate dog so I took a possessive posture and said, "Isn't she adorable?"
"Oh, is she yours?"
"Yes." Oh God. Yes?!

Matt came out of the store swinging his plastic bag containing $6.98 worth of stuff.

"Yeah. We're going to need $200 and some dog food."

A year later, she's 70 pounds of love but still cuddles with us and has been my favorite purchase ever. I always figured that one day Matt would win the dog debate and I would learn to tolerate his dog. I surprised myself, and everyone who knows me, by how much I love her. She is totally a part of our family. Proof? I have a picture I could use for Christmas cards, but she isn't in it so I have to wait till my amazing photographer sister-in-law can take one of all four of us this weekend.  

Our mischievous sprite

Well Lucy Baby seems to be feeling better. Or at least she's back to her mischievous sprite self. This morning she got into the dirty laundry and managed to distribute socks, t-shirts and underwear throughout the downstairs. When I came back up after picking up after her, I saw that she'd taken one of Baby Chi Chi's teething rings and shredded it all over the upstairs so it looks like someone puked in plastic technicolor. Awesome.

This just in: washing dishes is dangerous. As I was coming up from getting the detergent out from under the sink I whacked my brow bone on the cast iron pan sitting on the edge of the counter. Sam's first word will most likely be a swear word. Sorry, dad.

I have my first postpartum doctor's appointment tomorrow. I wonder if the chart notes will mention my new black eye under the section about how we are coping with the new changes.

Happy Autumn!

Happy Autumn!  These are from Baby Chi Chi's first trip to the park.

 

Absolutely not allowed

Lucy Baby is absolutley NOT allowed on the couch. Obviously we are equally guilty of giving in to our gimpy girl.

For the Love of Lucy

I'm touched by how many people have asked how Lucy is doing with the upcoming changes.

She was fine until the day Baby Chi Chi's gift from Omama and Opapa arrived: an awesome stroller/car seat combo. When Matt pulled the stroller out of the box Lucy just flipped out. She started barking her "Danger! Intruder!" bark and backing away with her hackles up. Then she started barking at Matt for not doing anything about it. She refused to have anything to do with him for the rest of the night. Then, she went on a hunger strike. I thought surely she would come near the stroller if I put her food by it. Nope. I considered leaving treats for her on the stroller's snack tray, but then realized that would be teaching her to eat off the stroller and I don't want to have her eating Baby's Cheerios someday.

Matt likes to pretend that it's just me that spoils her. But then he does endearing things like making this call from work.

"I'm just calling to check on Lucy, is she okay yet?"
"Well, that's her barking in the background. She's been doing it since, uh, first thing this morning and shows no sign of stopping."

"Shit. I think we're going to have to take her and the stroller for a walk tonight. I'm going to feel pretty stupid pushing around and empty stroller."
"And I'm going to be pissed if people ask me if I've had the baby already and I'm standing there with my 9-month-pregnant belly."

"We have to do something."
"Okay. We'll do it. It'll associate something positive with the stroller. It's a good idea. Then, we'll never speak of it again."

I am happy to report that Lucy spared us this embarrassment by finally coming around. But, once again, managed to make us demonstrate what lengths we're willing to go to for. What, I wonder, will be willing to do for our little Chi Chi?