What I Did On My Christmas Vacation, Vol. III: Back at the Homestead

We left Dadeville on Christmas morning. Note to self: Do not agree to stay in condo and check out on Christmas morning, as Christmas morning should be for church, or coffee by a roaring fire, or champagne while opening gifts, or joy of childrens' faces upon seeing what was in their stockings. It should not involve packing a van, dressing and feeding two children, and cleaning a condo, all before having coffee. That being said, it was nice having a place to ourself while visiting the in-laws: it kept the kids to a better sleep schedule, and allowed the mamas and papas to unwind with a bottle of wine, a game of scrabble (50 points for using all my letters on "placebo!", and a bowl game. Both kids fell asleep on the way back to Atlanta, so they were nice and fresh for round two of Christmas.

Todd opening gifts, Christmas afternoon.

Mom and Matilda

Lisa laughing with Rollie

Rollie doing the jitterbug

Dad and Rollie opening gifts, with Quint sleeping through the whole thing.

What I Did On My Christmas Vacation, Vol. II: Johnson Family Gathering

Todd, Rollie, Matilda, and I spent Christmas Eve at Todd's parents' house on Lake Martin. Todd's grandmother Harris lives with the Johnsons. Todd's Aunt Sherry, Uncle Shaileish, and cousins, Jamie, Eric, and Jennifer were there from Cincinatti. Todd's brothers, Lyle and Wade, and their wives, Denise and Suzanne, in attendance.

Top row: Lyle, Todd, Denise, Peggy, Suzanne, Wade.
Bottom row: Ruth Harris, Me, Matilda, Lavaughn, and Rollie)

The Shahs: (top row: Jamie and Eric. Middle: Jenn. Seated: Ruth Harris, Sherry and Shailesh.)










Rollie and Papaw Johnson











My mother-in-law, Peggy, and her sister, Sherry.

Matilda with her great-grandmother, Meemaw.

Matilda with Jamie and Jennifer.











Matilda with Eric and Jennifer











Todd and Me, on the way home to Atlanta.











Rollie and the hippo are pooped and sleep all the way home.

What I Did On My Christmas Vacation, Vol. I: We Actually Went Out. Together.

On the Thursday before Christmas, the Johnson family ventured over to Auburn, Alabama, hometown of the Todd. We were there for Christmas, to see Todd's Aunt Sherry and Uncle Shaileish, and his cousins, who were in town for the holiday. They had not met Matilda yet, so we thought we should get together while they were in town.

On Friday night, Todd's parents watched the chilluns while we headed into town for an evening out. (Todd grew up in Auburn, but his parents now live about 30 minutes outside of town, in Dadeville. It is fun and rural-sounding to say, "we went into town.")

We met up with our friends Iain and Noelle, Iain's brother Matt, and Scott and went out for an actual dinner without children. FUCKING AWESOME. As was the ass-kicking margarita. I agreed to drive back to the lake (dark, two-laned county roads where you are likely to see 5 or 10 deer on any given night), so I refrained from drinking too much, but we headed to a bar in town for drinks. This is one of a small handful of bars in Auburn, Alabama and is the unspoken "meetup" place for the locals home for the holidays. Much fun was had by all. We even took pictures, and I met a few Auburn folks that I had heard much about, but never met.



This is Iain. He is Todd's best buddy. I can tell when Iain is getting toasty, because he always starts giving a lot of hugs and telling me about how Marley always said that Todd was the catch out of all the Auburn boys. I am not sure who Marley is.

This is Todd. He is a total catch.

This is me. As you can see, I lied about stopping the drinks after the margarita. Er. . .margaritas.





This is Jim. He's an old friend of Todd's. I don't know him that well, except that he is always quick with a hug when I see him, and he gets around better drunk on crutches than I do on my feet.




This is David. I also had never really talked to him much, although I had met him before. He does not like to have his picture taken, and turned the camera on me, resulting in the picture of me drinking the beer that I was not supposed to be drinking. He is a writer for the Auburn-Opelika paper, so maybe he was trying to get the big story.





Like I said, I was supposed to stop at the first margarita. Adria is the one with the nice boobs. (See cupped hand.)






Suzanne and Noelle look very happy here.





This is Todd with Cricker. Cricker is a nickname. His real name is Chris, but I can never remember that. He has a really cute girlfriend with excellent taste in holidaywear.



Stay tuned for volume II.

For Brett

At the request of Brett Shell, here are a few pics of the little ones, and maybe one of me, too.

Matilda and Me


















My little man, Rollie

Boy, We Don't Party Like We Used To. . . .

In keeping with my recent rambles down memory lane, I attended a get-together at the lovely Doug and Steph Bachman home. Attendees included a number of characters from my youth and young adulthood, as well as a dazzling array of snacks and desserts, including the dreaded-by-dieters, light-as-air, Rice Krispie treat. I am proud to say that I declined all sweets, and did not stuff myself to sickness. I also consumed only one beer and am pretty sure that people had difficulty recognizing me without a drink in my hand the entire evening.

Doug and Steph outdid themselves as usual. And it was great to see parents of a newborn bite the bullet and throw a party - more power to ya! Annika is an angel as ever, and Dagny is a adorable! I'm not just saying that, either. I believe I overheard discussions by other attendees that she will probably be a supermodel when she grows up. That's high praise for any child under 3 mos of age - at that point, they usually still look like sleestaks.

Surprise invitees included Virginia Harrison and Kim Thomas Jette. Kim, I am with Camille, that is a kickass new last name. Congratulations on your marriage! Virginia looked great, and brought her niece and nephew with her, along with pictures of Hendree's new daughter. Beautiful kids all, and Virginia seems happy in her aunthood; I bet she is great at it!

Camille brought both her girls - I cannot believe how big they are getting, and I still am wowed by their eye color every time. Who would have thought brown-eyed Camille would have children with such brilliantly-colored eyes?

Leigh and Betts attended with Bowen in tow. Love those boots, Bowie! Leigh, every woman there wished that they looked as good non-pregnant as you do knocked up. If you weren't one of our favorite people, we would hate your guts.

Misery loves company, and it was fun to commiserate with Brian and Genia Cayce concerning the trek from the big city into the suburban (exurban?) outskirts of Atlanta; Brian couldn't even get his cel phone to work! We live so close, we should get together more. I've got your numbers now - watch out! Speaking of which, a group is getting together at East Side Lounge on the 26th; Harris is in town and meeting people there. I believe your mutual friend Molly is also invited. Genia, maybe we can convince her to move to Seattle and fall in love with our favorite West coast bachelor. . . .

The highlight of the evening was seeing expatriates Mike Maier and his wife Kat, whom those of us in the Mom circle have chatted with online, but have never met. She was everything that I imagined Mike's wife and the mother of his child would be: Smart, funny, sweet, comfortable with strangers, and down-to-earth. Oh, and she's not bad looking, either. Way to go, Mike! Kat, we dig you and are happy to finally have met you. Little James is a doll, too. Mike, I love your new belly. Never thought you would have one, but the 30s catch up with us all, don't they? God knows they have overtaken me. Watch out - the Johnson clan just might take you up on the offer and show up in Enschede one of these days. Oh, and tell your Mom I will drop by to pick up those pictures of you and me and the infamous Easter haircut. Pictures of me with purple hair must be destroyed.

It is always interesting to get together with people that I have known for so long. People who know me, and have seen me at my worst. It is heartwarming to see the pride and love that they, as parents, have for their children. It is somehow comforting and inspiring and hopeful to see how everyone is turning out, how some have found their callings, or their companions, and their paths in life, and to know that there will be more twists and turns on those paths and we will all discuss them in a few more years. Fun was had by all, and my only regret is that i neglected to take a single picture. . . Guess we will have to take pictures next year. We're doing this again next year, right?

1992

While coming up with the stats for my previous post, I experienced complete music nostalgia. I was viewing all of the albums we own for a particular year, and thinking, "Oh, yeah! That was a fucking awesome year! I bought this and that, and damn! That is a total classic album now, but it was just a weekly purchase for me at the time. I saw this show! I went with so-and-so." And so on and so on. . . .

My favorite albums from 1992:

Beastie Boys - Check Your Head
The Breeders - Safari
Jesus and Mary Chain - Honey's Dead
My Bloody Valentine - Loveless
Peter Gabriel - Us
PJ Harvey - Dry
Ride - Going Blank Again
Sonic Youth- Dirty
Sugar - Copper Blue
Superchunk - On the Mouth

Note: Sloan's Smeared also came out this year. I heard the single, "Underwhelmed" and was . . .well, underwhelmed. A few years later, my then-boyfriend Zach had it and I hated it. I thought it was pop crap. It was only after hearing their album Twice Removed a few years later that I came to love them and revisit this album. Thanks, Zach.

Shows I think I remember seeing: Dinosaur Jr., Fugazi, My Bloody Valentine, Sugar, Superchunk, Ween, and Lollapalooza (Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ministry, Ice Cube, Soundgarden, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Pearl Jam, Lush). Some of these could have been 1993, I guess, but it was that general time period.

Oh, the nostalgia: These albums make me think of sitting on a couch at the Georgia Bar with Honey, watching boys coming in. It is probably about midnight, and it's just starting to get really crowded, and they are playing Check Your Head, and next they will probably play Aretha Franklin's "Respect." I remember the first time I heard Loveless, I was with Jason Parker and Donnie Sanders and Dottie somebody-or-other at some guy's house, playing cards, and getting really fucked up. This was also the first time I heard The Jesus Lizard's Goat. For some reason, PJ Harvey reminds me of driving down Baxter with Brant, in his his jeep, listening to "Sheela Na Gig." I don't know if that was 1992 or not, but that's what it makes me think of.

Of course, these are just the release dates on the albums, and it is possible (likely, even) that the memories I have took place the following year or so. The old noggin isn't what it used to be. . . .

Okay, this is fun. Coming soon: A walk down the memory lane that is 1993. . . .

The Ghost of Decembers Past

Or parenthood's effect on my music Listenership . . . .

It occurred to me yesterday that it is December. (I know. I am quick that way.) In Decembers of my childless past, I usually made a list of my top ten albums of the year. This made me laugh, as I don't even know if I bought ten new albums this year. This is not an exaggeration, because. . . well, have you ever taken a toddler into Criminal Records? There are display shelves to be knocked over with stroller wheels, magazines to be torn off the shelves, comics to be marred with grimy fingers, and listening stations at which to throw tantrums when Mama won't let you listen to the new Minus the Bear any longer.

I am also now one half of a partnered CD collection ownership. This means that after an initial high of suddenly doubling one's CD collection and relegating doubles of any CDs to the Lakehouse, there comes a realization that one can no longer blow a whole paycheck on CDs in one week, at least not without the nod from one's better half.

At this point in my life, I can barely get out of the house to the grocery store and the gym, much less the record store on Tuesdays. My dear husband, who, thankfully, has excellent taste in music, or else I never would have married him, now buys the CDs for the family. This, for a former rabid CD buyer, is akin to the feminist wife conceding that her husband pays all the bills. (Oh yeah, Todd does that too.) It is, well, embarrassing.

Live shows? What a laugh. There was a time when I went to see a band play, on a weeknight, no less, just because I had heard that they were pretty good. These days? I am lucky if it is my turn to go see our favorite bands (Todd and I often switch off the rights to see bands we both like), or if it is something that we both must see, well, we have to make plans for sitters months in advance. I find that I now really only see music from last decade, or worse yet, that we are now the people who see reunion tours. Pixies, anyone?

I no longer spend hours on end in my car during five o'clock traffic, and any music that I do listen to is played on my computer with a backdrop of Thomas the Tank Engine or Dora the Explorer. There is no more buying of a highly-anticipated CD, coming home, putting it on the stereo, and laying on the couch perusing the liner notes as I listen to every lyric, from start to finish, on the album. There is no longer that intimate knowledge of every CD I purchase.

So, I started thinking about what my favorite albums were in 2005, and CRAP, I couldn't even remember what came out this year. I decided to make an MP3 album in Itunes of just stuff that we bought in 2005. (This was made more difficult by Todd's inability to import CDs into ITunes and confirm that the year is included in the info for every CD.) I would theoretically listen to this album over and over, become insanely knowledgeable about each and every song on every album that we (Todd) purchased in 2005, and then come up with my phenomenal list.

I have not had that much time to listen to it, and when I do, I tend to listen to a few particular albums over and over, rather than listening to each album in succession until I've listened to them all, and then starting over at the first album on the disc. But I still have 16 days left!

In the course of creating said 2005 disc, I started messing around with ITunes. (If one did have hours of time on their hands, they could definitely use them all playing with ITunes.) I became curious: How many hours of music did we buy in 2005? Was that more or less than 2003, the year that Rollie was born? I spent the first 8 months of 2003 childless, and therefore with time to buy and listen to music. How did 2003 compare with 1999, the year I met Todd? When I met Todd in 1999, was I listening to more or less music than I did in 1995, the year I graduated from college? God knows I had plenty of time to listen to music back then. And how did 1995 compare to 1992, the heyday of my music buying? Technically, I bought a ton of music prior to '92, but since SOME FUCKERS STOLE EVERY CD I OWNED FROM MY APARTMENT in the fall of '92, this would not be truly representative of the amount of music I owned at the time. Alas, there is no real way to know those last numbers, as the discs are long gone, and never saw ITunes import.

Anyway, here are the stats (remember, they are not completely accurate, due to CD theft of 1992, and the fact that this includes both mine and Todd's CD collections):

Year: 1992 (Sophomore year of college. The year that everything bought before the Fall was stolen. This number, if accurate, would be much, much higher.)
739 Songs, 1.8 days

Year: 1995
643 Songs, 1.7 days

Year: 1999
600 songs, 1.5 days

Year: 2003
533 songs, 1.3 days

Year: 2005
187 songs, 12.9 hrs

As you can see, purchases have gradually declined since college, with a dramatic downturn since the birth of Rollie. Really, though, it seems to me that more than the decline in album purchases is the decline in the time I spend truly enjoying the music. What a sad, sad state of affairs. . . .

The Suit

I can't believe you are dressing me up in this ridiculous outfit and taking my picture.

2 Months of Miss Tilda

I can't believe Matilda has been with us for two months already (9 weeks tomorrow). She has already become a part of the family and i can't remember what it was like to have just one child.

Matilda's 2 month well-baby checkup was yesterday. We had to wait for 45 minutes before being called back, and by the time we left, she hadn't eaten in 4 hours. She was not happy. The doctor said that she looked "fabulous." She wasn't even wearing any accessories or anything - just a sleeper.

Here are her stats:
Weight: 12lbs, 3 oz. (75-90th%)
Head Circ: Okay, i don't remember, but it was right at the 50th%.
Height: 23 and 1/2 inches (75-90th%)

The doctor said her height for weight ratio was perfect.

We also had the first immunizations and Rollie's flu shot. Rollie went first, so that he wouldn't see Matilda screaming before it was his turn. He cried and looked at me like I betrayed him, but stopped crying before we had put him back down on the ground. Matilda received four shots and she screamed bloody murder, but she recovered and was fast asleep by the time I had buckled her into the carseat. We had no after-effects from the shots: No fever or fussiness.

Matilda, at two months, you are already so different than when we brought you home. You coo at the animals in the mobile over your swing, and at the lights and baubles on your bouncy seat. You will sleep longer periods now: a good 5-8 hour stretch at night, and 1-2 hour naps a couple times a day. At other times, you will take catnaps. You are starting to control your hands. You will try to milk my breast when you are eating, as if you could squeeze more out. You smile at us now, with regularity. Mostly when we are changing your diaper, or hovering over you making silly faces, but sometimes it is right when you first see my face in the morning. This morning was wonderful: You smiled at me when i came in to get you, and Rollie came downstairs upon waking, and walked over to me and said, "kiss." Some days, I feel like the luckiest Mom in the world. The heart really does have the ability to expand and accomodate both children.

Jaws of Life

At what point does one stop, when begging for food from their mother as she pops the last piece into her mouth, eyeing said mouth as if thinking about how to pry it open and eat what hasn't been swallowed yet?

I Am a Complete Failure as a Parent

I started to realize that i am a complete failure as a parent when other parents began to ask me where Rollie was doing a Mommy's Morning Out program last spring. Um, what? They go to these programs at the age of two??? I proceeded to look into the programs in late February, early March. Turns out they usually do the registrations in January or early February. I totally missed the window. Oops. Guess Rollie is doomed to low test scores and a job at MACDonald's. . . .

Well, obviously, this last snafu is the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Call DFACS! I MISSED THE AIRING OF THE RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER SPECIAL!

Why the hell do they air the thing in November? How will Rollie ever learn the meaning of Christmas, without seeing how Rudolph saved it with the help of that wanna-be dentist elf and the Misfit toys?

My Sick Little Girl

CRAP.

Rollie came down with the cough, runny nose, low-grade fever last weekend. He still has the runny nose. Todd took care of rollie, and I manned Matilda in hopes that we wouldn't give her his cold, but she started coughing on Sat. I was at my Mom's in Warner Robins. I just figured it was a cold and kept an eye on her. I decided to come home yesterday morning, and have been keeping an eagle eye on her, esp. for the fever that Rollie had. Well, as of yesterday at 5 pm, no fever, but she was really snotty, and kind of sounded raspy when she breathed, esp when she was bf. At 7:30, she felt warmer to me, so i took her temp again. 100.7. (100.4 is the high normal.)

I called the peds answering service. They called back an hour later and wanted me to take her to the ER. So, off I go to Children's at 9pm with a sick baby in the pouring down rain. Did I mention that I also have the same nasty cold? fun.

Got to children's - first of all, they have valet parking, which is pretty cool. It is free. Went inside, and Oh.My.God. it was crowded. It was like a vision of hell, with sick, crying children EVERYWHERE. There were probably 50 or more people, at least, in the waiting room. It looked like an ER episode. I went to the desk and they did my preliminary info, gave me a number, and told me to sit down and they would call me to triage. I barely sat down before they called me back, which scared the crap out of me, that Matilda was bumped up to the front of the line in front of all those sick kids in there.

The triage nurse was really thorough, which i appreciated. They put a little pulse thing on her foot. Then they made me sit down again and again, they immediately took me back to a room. Matilda did her blowout poop about that point. Fun. I forgot an extra outfit, but luckily, it didn't get on her clothes.

Took her back, and they hooked her up to a pulse machine thingy, that kept on going off and scaring the crap out of me. matilda was crying her guts out at this time, because she was hungry, but they wouldn't let me feed her till the dr. saw her. I tried to walk her in the little room, but it was a little box, and also, she was attached to the machine thing.

Dr. came in - he looked like an older version of the intern/apprentice character who works at the funeral home on Six Feet Under. He was very nice. Listened to her breathing, etc. He said they wanted to do some tests: urine test, blood labs, and test her mucous for RSV.

he left and this other woman came in. She was some kind of welcoming committee lady, asking if i needed anything. She got me a coffee, which was nice. Nice touch, having someone wait on the parents. I held matilda while watching Larry King, until they came in. There were two of them, so I couldn't get close enough to hold her while they did their thing, which made me cry more when they did their thing. First, they suctioned her out with the saline solution and the bulby thing. Why they don't show you the saline method at the hospital, I have no idea, but it works much better than just doing the bulb. She cried her little guts out and had TONS of mucous. Then, they gave her a catheter to get the urine sample. More crying, her and me. Then, they put an iv in her hand/arm and that was it. i felt sooo bad for her. She was doing the really loud crying, interspersed with the lethal "silent scream" cry, which to me is the worst. They took a ton of blood, and then we were done. They said I could feed her, so the nurse got me a pillow and i nursed her. More Larry king. By this time, it was about midnight. I was pooped. She fell asleep.

The results came back: RSV positive. They said that they would give her a breathing treatment and if she responded, they would send an inhaler/chamber thingy home with me. If not, they would have to admit her. That scared the living shit out of me.

I gave her the treatment while she slept in my arms. It took about five minutes of the oxygen/albuterol blowing in her face. Looked like a smoke machine. Rock and roll, matilda. The dr. came in and said she sounded a little better, so he would send me home.

We ended up getting home at 3 am. I put her down at that time, and slept till about 5:30 when she got up and ate. Then todd stayed up with her and I slept for a couple more hours.

We have to call the peds office (still waiting to hear back from them) about how they want to proceed (if they want to see her every day in the office, or just have me report to them, etc.) We have to do the breathing treatments 4xday for 3 days. We did the first one this morning. Boy, she didn't like it at all. Also, should be interesting, me doing it by myself this afternoon. Todd was here for the morning one. We treat her fever with tylenol, and keep her suctioned out, esp before feedings, so she can eat well. If she has trouble keeping down BM, we can also give her bottles of pedialyte.

She is sleeping right now, and I am so worried about her. I keep checking to make sure she is breathing while she is sleeping, and then when she is awake, the coughing is just heartbreaking to watch.

Please keep my little lady in your thoughts - that her breathing improves, and we don't have to go back to the hospital.

Lost as Breastfeeding Metaphor

Is it just me, or does the idea of having to watch a clock, never stray very far from the hatch, and input the code every two hours before the clock runs out mirror life with a newborn just a little too much?

You Crack Me Up

When you beg and beg to watch "Duh," (translation: Dora) and I say, "What is the magic word?" And you say, "Peas." And I say, "Do you want to watch Dora?" And you say, "Okay," as if it was my idea and you are just humoring me by agreeing to watch it.

A Mile In My Shoes

I had no more than 3 hour stretches of sleep for over 4 weeks.
I had a baby chomping on my breasts for . . . well, she is still chomping on my breasts. They are constantly bruised, sensitive, and painful. This does not seem to improve, despite the fact that everyone says it "gets better" and that I have done everything that the breastfeeding experts say to do to correct it.
Even when I do get an evening away, I still have to pump. Trust me, that does not encourage relaxation.
I wake up from between 5:30 am and 8:00 am. I stay all day with them, I spend four hours a day, just with her on the boob. The rest of the time, I am holding her while she cries, or walking her, or rocking her, or cleaning her blowout poops. And at 8:00 pm, the toddler is still awake. She doesn't fall asleep until 11:00 pm. We're talking 15 hr days here. Sure people work 15 hr days all the time. But without a weekend break? Every day is the same. The only difference is that I am not alone on the weekends. What if you had to go into the office 7 days a week for 8 weeks straight?

I am not belittling what is done to help me, but there is something about being constantly on call that is exhausting. It is lonely. I wish you wouldn't judge me until you have walked a mile in my shoes.

It actually really is that hard.

I Am Mother

Nothing makes me feel more like a cliche than a pot of water boiling over as I change a poopy diaper while my 2 month old screams her guts out in the background. Unless it is one of those days where you also add that she shat on me earlier in the day, and her big brother the toddler is about to start puking all over me in the kitchen, right before I get dinner on the table.