Surprise!

What i did not expect to get for my anniversary?

Food poisoning.

Five Year Pie

I think I saw you in an ice-cream parlour, drinking milk shakes cold and long
Smiling and waving and looking so fine, don’t think
You knew you were in this song
And it was cold and it rained so I felt like an actor
And I thought of ma and I wanted to get back there
Your face, your race, the way that you talk
I kiss you, you’re beautiful, I want you to walk

We’ve got five years, stuck on my eyes
Five years, what a surprise
We’ve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, that’s all we’ve got
- David Bowie

(Okay, so it's not exactly a song befitting five years of wedded bliss, but i'm willing to fudge a little, just to use a Bowie quote.)
Sometimes my brain does hurt, from thinking about how crazy it is that we met the way we did, and thinking about all of the times that we could have met each other before we did, but the fates knew we weren't ready for each other yet.
Here's an idea: Let's get Aunt Eeetsa to watch the offspring, hit Crave for dinner, and then go out and get really drunk. Just like we did five years ago after our wedding. You deserve it, after putting up with my ass for five years. Who knows? Maybe Porn King will stop by at 4 a.m. with Subway. Now that's romance.
These have been the happiest five years of my life. Despite the five trips to the hospital. Despite the sleepness nights, and the responsibilities, and the dragon poops, and the trappings of adulthood. Despite the football affiliations that repel like two magnets.
I love our mornings together. I love Friday night pasta and ice cream. I love the feeling I get when I think about getting into the Rodeo and opening up your tape case, seeing your nerd fonts, and the smile I had on my face. I love that we can have lunches with the kids at the park. I love our dinner ticklefests. I love our bedtime giggles - You are a dream weaver and you can do magic. I love that you love to cook out, and watch football, and go to a Braves game or the Zoo at the drop of a hat. I adore walking at festivals and junk markets with you. I think the cutest thing ever is when you mix a jack and coke and make the ice clinkclinkclink with your finger. I love driving with you at dusk and listening to Deserter's Songs or I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One. I love sitting on a windy Oregon coast, drinking beer and watching the sunset. I love playing the jukebox and all day pool with you in New Orleans, and that you would drive to Slidell to traipse hot, wet cemeteries with me, just to satisfy my silly obsessions. I love standing with you on the fortress wall in Orvieto and walking with you in Venice at night. I love that I just knew.
I love that you are up for exploring the side roads - How did I get so lucky as to find a man that relishes the journey as much or more than the destination? Because, really, that is what it is all about: Not the reaching of our goals, but the dreaming of them and working towards them together. That's the Pie.

Your girl for always,
Annie

Eggcellent Eggstravaganza

Todd, Rollie, Tiller, and I spent the weekend with my parents at the Lake. We drove down on Friday, put the kids down (Rollie didn't stay down, and was, accordingly, rewarded with ice cream by the grandparents), and my parents stayed with them while Todd and I went into town for dinner. We tried to get dinner at The Brick (can't even find a website for this place - middle Georgia, people) and ended up at the bar at Buffington's. We blew my diet (you should see the size of the blue cheese chunks in their dressing,) watched the Braves beat the Padres, checked out the locals (What's up, Pops?) and saw a short set by a not terrible jazz band. All in all a good evening, and we were home by 11 pm. We retired to the porch for another beer, and to listen to the raging kegger across the cove from us: "Peter, get up here! FUNNEL!!!!!!!!" We almost hopped in the boat and headed over, but they would have wondered who the old folks were.

On Saturday, Todd and Rollie hung out by the turtle pool (that's Rollie showing off his muscles at the left), and Matilda and I ventured into the center of Milledgeville society, also known as WalMart. This is one of a very few WalMarts, as far as I know, in all of four or five surrounding counties. I think there is one in Eatonton, one in Madison, one in Macon, and one in Sandersville. When you get there on a Saturday, the parking lot is usually 3/4 full, and full of cars from Jones, Baldwin, Putnam, Greene, and Hancock counties. It makes for great people-watching, especially on Easter weekend, when people are all decked out in their Jesuswear. My two favorite t-shirt sightings of the day: "Public Display of Affection," and "His palms were read to tell your future" shirt, which shows a cheesy painting of the stigmata. (Unfortunately, I could not find a picture of this online. It must be made by a really subversive God Squad group. ) On a side note, do not stand anywhere next to Todd, as he is sure to be struck by lightning any day now for coming up with the rebuttal t-shirt idea, "He Dyed for your sins." We bought lilies for my Mama, Easter egg dye, eggs, and candy for the big kids (a.k.a. Grandparents and Annie and Todd). My mom had already taken care of the little ones.

We got home, joined everyone at the pool, and Matilda debuted her first swimwear. Unfortunately, I could not find a hat to match, but I am sure you will agree that Rollie's Diego safari hat looked smashing on her.

After our swim, we convened to the screened porch for egg dyeing. Rollie loved putting the dye tablets into the vinegar and watching them fizz. He also liked to pull the eggs out of the cups with his hands, rather than the little metal egg holder, and then would drop them back into another cup with a plop!, splashing dye all over himself and everything around him. He cried when we cleaned up and told him he had to leave the eggs in the tray to dry.

After the egg dyeing, Todd watched Matilda while Rollie and I went for a short boat ride with Papaw. Rollie had not been in the bass boat before, only on the pontoon. I wish I had pictures, but suffice to say that Rollie thoroughly enjoyed "driving" the boat with Papaw, and his eyes were big as saucers when we actually sped up enough to create a wake. It was really cute and I was a nervous wreck the whole time.

Mama fixed ham, potato salad, and baked beans and i pigged out. This meal never fails to remind me of my Grandma Palmer, who loved a ham, and could just about eat her weight in it. (She used to fix the same thing, but her beans were different - Mama's have bacon in strips on top, cooked with the beans, but Grandma's used to have green peppers diced throughout and pre-fried, crumbled bacon on top. I like Mama's better, but I sure would love to have a bite of Grandma's again.)

We put the little ones down to bed, then relaxed, played Easter Bunny, and then went to bed. Rollie woke up some time before six (it was dark) and Todd kept him occupied while we made coffee and hid his Easter basket, or as he calls it, his "batshit." He totally didn't get the concept, and proceeded to throw a tantrum when we tried to get him to look for his basket. This rapidly disappeared when he realized that the Easter Bunny brings CHOCOLATE.

Toddlers have no off button, and this applies to anything that they love. We finally had to sneak behind his back and hide the remainder of his candy after he consumed about 25 bite-size Reese's cups
in the span of approximately three minutes. We also had to endure his pleas for "chocolate chocolate chocolate" the rest of the day. Total success!

Mama's Little Dawg

For those of you not up on your SEC football, this will make no sense. For the rest of you, read on.

Last night at dinner, Todd prompts Rollie with a

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr Ea. . ."

Rollie interrupts with:

"SIC'EM!!WOOFWOOFWOOF!"

There is nothing more rewarding than seeing the fruits of the labor of good raisin' . . . .

Just a Thought

If your fingernails are so long that you can't push buttons on the ATM machine, and you have to try repeatedly to finish your transaction correctly, while numerous cars are in line behind you, including a van with not one, but two wailing children, maybe, just maybe, that is an indication that you should cut your fucking nails. Just a thought.

Six Months with a Leaky Boob

Tiller, I can't believe it has been six months! The time has flown by so much faster than it did with Rollie. Not that it was any easier (if anything, it has been harder), but with two children, it is so easy to miss some of the little milestones in your life while changing diapers, fixing meals, and packing diaper bags. I feel guilty about that, but I try to make a concerted effort to take plenty of pictures of you, and to savor the little moments with you. I hope that I do a pretty good job of it.




Lots has happened since you turned four months or so. You will now lay on your tummy for a lot longer. You can lift up your chest and head and look around. You usually are looking for me, or Daddy or Rollie, or at the cats or dog. But then you get fed up with it and start crying and lay your head down. I get frustrated, because i want you to practice tummy time, so that you can start getting on all fours, and then eventually crawling, but I know that when that time comes, I will be sad, and run ragged trying to keep up with you.

You can roll over in both directions now: Front to back, and back to front. You support all of your weight on both legs, and can sit in a tripod with your hands down in front of you. At least until you topple over to the side and start wailing. With support, you can sit up for long periods of time.

You are grasping everything now, including my nostrils, lips, neck, and chest. You just about rip me apart while breastfeeding, and sometimes even hit me in the face. I haven't quite figured out how to get you to stop, but need to figure it out before you hurt me. Who knew breastfeeding could be such a contact sport? You can switch objects back and forth between hands, and everything in your hands go into your mouth.

We are still successfully breastfeeding. I never thought that I would enjoy it, and sometimes I don’t, but there are moments when I feel so close to you while you are nursing. I love when you pause, look up at me, and smile. It is the sweetest.

I spend a lot of time trying to figure out who you look like. I think you have my eye color, but your daddy’s eye shape. Your nose is mine, but your mouth and chin remind me of your Grandma Johnson. Your eyes started out blue, of course, but now they are just a really strange color. They sometimes look blue, or slightly greenish like mine (not a bright green, but a dark mossy one). You look like you have brown on the very inside of the iris, but lighter on the outside. Sometimes they look grayish. They keep changing, and I suspect that when you are older they will be brownish or brown green, like mine, but probably not as dark as Rollie’s. His are very deep brown. I can’t believe I am saying this, as I have always complained about my curly hair, but I kind of hoped one of you would also have curls. I don’t think you will, though. So far, you and Rollie both seem to have hair like your Daddy’s, kind of straight and wavy. Your hair is lighter than Rollie’s, though. His is a pretty dark brown already, but yours is lighter, and in some lights, almost looks red! I think it will turn out more like my medium brown hair color.

We started feeding you solid foods in small amounts at four months, and now at six months, you have the okay to eat some more. And boy do you ever eat! You cry when we stop spooning the food in, and even harder if we get up and walk away from the table while feeding you! You don’t seem to show any preferences – you like everything we give you! You are also starting to sip formula or breast milk from a cup. You like to hold a spoon of your own while we feed you.

You still sleep great at night, going down at about 7:30 and sleeping until 6:30 or 7:30, when we are lucky. Nap times? That is a different story. I try to put you down a couple hours after you wake up in the morning, but you nap inconsistently. You also go down in the afternoon for an hour or so. Again, it is a crapshoot as to how long you will sleep on a given day. You do a lot of catnaps in the car, though.

You are starting to babble, and coo, and laugh when we do things for you. If anything, we are a family that loves to laugh, so it is great that you are learning to laugh with us.

You still love to be held and walked, and don’t really want to be set down for long periods of time. We do put you in the exersaucer and you will stay in it for a while. But you mostly like to be held. When Daddy holds you in the mornings, you always follow me with your eyes; You seem enamored of me, and that is one of the things that make being your mother worthwhile. Frankly, you can be a difficult baby, and your preference for me above all others is not only flattering, but serves as a reminder that I am the center of your universe and responsible for your happiness and well-being, even when I want to throw you out a window.

You had your six month appointment on Monday morning. We saw Dr. Levine, and he said you looked great. They weighed and measured you. You are a big girl! Here are your stats:

Length 28 1/2 inches (>97%)
Weight 18 lbs (75-90%)
Head Circumference 43 cm (50-75%)

I love you, Tiller! Happy six months!

Honey's Wedding

I feel like I've spent ages away from home and hearth, but it was really just three nights. We drove (!) down to my friends Honey and Slade's wedding in Delray Beach, Florida on Thursday night. Honey now goes by her middle name, "Brooke," but for those of her who have known her for ages, she is still Honey, whether she likes it or not. Sorry, Honey! Myself, Honey, and two other friends, Laura and Dana, all lived together when we were in school at The University of Georgia. I can't believe we've known each other for SIXTEEN years now. It feels like just yesterday that we met!

Todd and I took tons of pictures, and here are just a few:

Laura and me at the Delray Beach club for the rehearsal.

Slade's Aunt hosted a fabulous rehearsal dinner at her beautiful home, despite a little hurricane damage.

Laura and me, poolside, during cocktails at the rehearsal dinner.

Dana and me

Laura, Dana, and me

Dana and her husband James

Todd and Me

James, Dana, and I show our appreciation for the excellent food.

The glowing bride at her rehearsal dinner.

The bride and groom look on as Slade's family performs a skit in their honor.

Honey and Todd

Slade claims that Honey is the devilish one. I beg to differ.

Phew! Ceremony over. Where are the drinks?

Laura and Victor, the Czech Physicist

James and Dana at the wedding reception.

Todd and me, sans kids!

I steal a hug from the groom.

Todd and I cuddle on the beach.

Post-wedding at The Falcon House, Laura regales Victor with astounding tales.

The night becomes a little blurry after that. . . .

Congratulations, Honey and Slade! I love y'all!

Imagine the Irony

I drag myself to an eight o'clock pm step class at the YMCA. I feel great afterwards, all blissed out on cardio, and decide that i should go to the grocery store without the kids before going home. I know that i have to get some bulky items, like cat litter, tons of toilet paper, economy packs of diapers, and the 40 lb bag of dog food, and it is always a little trying to fit all of that into the cart with Rollie in there, and to lift the shit with Matilda in the Baby Bjorn on my chest. (Have you ever tried to lift anything that weighs forty pounds without clutching it to your chest, crushing your child? It requires using only your arms. Not easy.) I get out of the car at Publix, put Todd's "mellowmix" on the IPod, and nod at the security guard in the cart vestibule. (I have no idea if that is what it is called, but i can't think of another word to accurately describe that "not-quite-inside-the-store" room where they keep grocery carts.)

I proceed to get my list of about ten very large items, totally peaceful and relaxed, enjoying the music and my time sans children. I reach up to look at a dog toy, thinking that I would love to get Quint one, but i know that I will end up pulling it out of his butt when he shreds it. I turn to put it back on the shelf and inadvertently knock over a display of about 20 boxes of flea and tick preventative, bringing much staring and unwanted attention to myself, all to the soundtrack of John Lennon's "Imagine."

KidChaos!!!!!!

Today we went to playgroup at Tara's house. (That's Natalie and Tara in the pictures on the left.) Tara went to my high school, and my college, and now our kids play together. Actually, Natalie, Camille, and Steph's husband, Doug, also went to my high school. Steph also went to college with all of us. Kind of funny. We even commented while eating lunch as Tara's husband watched over the kids playing outside that if you had asked me in college, in a million years, i would never have imagined that her husband Dusty would be watching over my kid.
Dusty blew up the kid bouncy castle thingie, so the kids tried to kill each other in there (cage match, toddler-style), played in the sandbox (a.k.a. see who can take the most sand being flung in their eyes), and then rode (fought over) bikes in their cul-de-sac. Rollie has never ridden a bike or trike, so that was pretty exciting for him. Especially the kickass Harley Davidson big wheel-type thing that also plays (really hideous) music. Here are pics!

The Problem with Barbie

My friend Steph's daughter Annika just turned three and we gave her a Barbie for her birthday. A little background on the Barbie purchase.

Some of you may have been surprised that I bought a Barbie, what with the inherent problematic body image baggage involved in foisting this doll on a little girl. First of all, I would rather my child turn into a goody goody Barbie cheerleader any day over deciding to go the Bratz route; Have you seen those little hussy dolls? They might as well have named those dolls Slutz!

Secondly, I debated it while on the toy aisle with two screaming children in tow, and decided that three year olds don't really HAVE a body image yet, and they just want to brush the doll's hair and dress her up and make her have fun jobs. And when they do get around to having a body image, I know that Annika (and her sister, Dagny) will be kickass girls with a healthy body image and will just use Barbie to turn unrealistic standards of beauty on their ear by making Barbie a Nobel-prize-winning Physicist, punk rock drummer, or something fun like that. I speak from experience here. Just ask Malibu Barbie, who had the fireplace hearth breast reduction (scrape Barbie's chest back and forth over bricks on hearth until desired breast flatness is achieved), and then shaved her head, wore Ken's tuxedo, and decided to be the Dream House butler.