And now, an intermission.

The truck is packed. The trailer is painted and rewired and with new tires. The child is almost in her traveling clothes. 

we're going to virginia, my annual trip home, sans K. Feel very sorry for him; he will be eating whatever he wants, sleeping as much as he can, and working like crazy on his projects.

We're due home Tues. Nov. 4th, in time to vote.

Have a great Halloween!

elvis movie pic

Annaliese is Slaying Me

I really can't wait for my mom to see her next week, because I know she'll confirm what I see: that little A. has grown up SO MUCH in the last three months.

I'm not saying she's grown. She's not. She is still emphatically a baby, with baby problems: so tired, can't fall asleep; pooping at the dinner table; teething, teething, teething.

It's hard to explain, but she's so much more of a little person these days... she doesn't like mashed broccoli. At all. She let it fall out of her mouth and looked at me like, you're feeding me dogshit now? She wants to feed herself, thank you. She wants to feed her pasta to the dog. She does not want to sleep; instead, she wants to roll over, sit up, and stand up in her crib, where she will bounce up and down while holding the bars and chortling wildly. I looked over a minute ago to the pulled-out drawer of fabric and things she plays with while I type and she was holding a packet of brackets (sealed) and STANDING. Just standing, not holding onto a thing, and when she's done standing she will plop back onto her butt and scoot over to whatever interests her next. She thinks my dancing/singing is hilarious and giggles when I lean towards her making funny sounds. She wants to eat whatever I'm eating, which means she had her first gingersnap this noontime, and she seemed to like it a lot, judging by the conscientious solemnity with which she chewed it down. She does not like it when I'm in a store, say, and having a conversation with a friend that bypasses her, and so she'll warble until the spotlight returns to her. She calls everything "da." She scoots over to my chair, pulls herself up, and then smiles at me, showing her gapped front teeth, and hopping a little in excitement that we're smiling at each other. She is very, very bored with all her toy-toys, and increasingly enchanted with things like the dogs' water bowl, Shadow's chewed tennis ball, leaves, sticks, and the broiler pull-out of the oven. 

I guess my point is that even though her napping is ABSURD and K. has to pick her up from standing in the crib, pat her a few times, and lay her back down at least three times a night, she's still really, really fun these days.

Some Very Little Big News

We've got a couple pieces of news in these parts.

First, the Movie on Main Street event I've been planning happens tomorrow evening. Since everyone who's worked on it with me ROCKS (vacuuming up fire ants? check. building a screen? check. designing this beautiful poster? oh, check check.), I am not as worried as I might be. Still, let's hope it goes well: aka people come and have a good time.

Second, Annaliese has a new tooth. This makes 5, and I'm sure the 6th will come in soon, as they tend to come in pairs.

Third, the odds are pretty good that K. and I will be having our second child in late May/early June. According to the sonogram, we're 7weeks and 4days in, although it's ludicrous to think they can tell the days... the bebe is the size of a pea, but boasts a heartbeat, which is all you can expect at this point.

And yes: this will mean two children under the age of 2 (Annaliese will be about 16months at sibling-date).

Someone hire me a nanny and a housecleaner, post STAT. 

My mom thinks the world is going to end.

So she's been doing entirely normal things for a middle-aged Caucasian WASP to do.

Like running to Wal-Mart at nine pm with a girl friend to stock up on ammunition.

Hoarding canned and dry foods.

Filling her chest freezer with venison.

Buying sheep.

And of course, taking shooting lessons from a guy whose day job is training SWAT teams.

I've Had Nothing To Eat Today Except Lasagna, Cake, and Corn. And Tums.

Thanks to all who sent good wishes. And to those who sent gifts: well, blessings, and  know that I do love presents.

And cake, of course.

But let's face it. The real reason y'all visit this blog is to see the bebe.

Voila.

happy birthday to me!

FIVE PRESENTS, people. One via email from my lovely parents-in-law. Four sitting on top of the chest freezer in the kitchen, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. For my official birthday celebration with K., whenever that may be; tonight, if our meeting ends soon enough, or tomorrow, if it doesn't.

I really, really hope today. Because I may be 26, but I am not at all patient.

In any case: Happy Birthday to ME!!!!!!

(very relieved to find that I am back to my normal birthday spirits, after the utterly dispiriting experience last year of turning a quarter-century).

My replacement at the office started today.

Man, does it feel good to pass on that torch. 

Phase #999

Annaliese helping me garden:

Bright-eyed in the doorway:

Happily (for once) standing in her crib:

Leg lifts and a novel: truly my daughter:

Good thing she's cute as a button.

Call it what you will. The nine-month-regression that takes place because of Week 36's big brain developmental push. The teething. The learning to pull up. The slight fever she had last night (probably related to the teething). But the facts are that Annaliese is charming during the day, more of a little girl every hour that passes, and yet her sleeping habits have gone straight to hell.

Example A: Rubs her eyes, ready for a nap; I put her down. She cries, like normal. Five minutes pass. She quiets--- like normal. The she starts screaming-- not normal. I come into her room to find her standing in her crib.

It stops getting charming real fast. Like when it happens six times in a row before her nap, or repeatedly during the night.

Last night, I coughed and she started crying. Went into her room to find that she had been sleeping on her knees, head touching the mattress, like a Muslim facing Mecca. So tired, and so compelled...

She went from waking for an early morningfeed to waking roughly 4-8 times per night. 

And the part that's hardest to see is that she can't help it. Her body is not letting her rest right now; no matter how tired she is, she rolls onto her stomach, and once on her stomach, she has to sit up, and once she's sitting, she needs to stand. Her teeth hurt. She's hot. She's cold. She can sleep on me but not on her own. She's completely lost the ability to self-soothe herself into sleep.

All-in-all, the nights, they're not so fun. But they're better in one big respect: I know that this will pass. That this is not her choice, that it is a developmental phase, and that soon, this whole brain  madness will pass and she will be back to sleeping soundly from 8pm-7am.

But man, I can't believe how much I was resenting that one early am feeding...

the thing i never thought i'd do: attacking another mom's mothering skills

I watched the entire debate last night. And nothing really got under my skin until after it was over, and Sarah Palin's family came on stage.

Hold the phone, "Hockey Mom"-- you have a 5-month-old on STAGE under bright lights at 9:30 at night? Let's ignore the fact that Down's Syndrome babies have special health problems and are more vulnerable than most; a crowd of thousands late at night with bright lights is not where ANY five-month-old needs to be.

I looked at that baby, doing his best to snuggle into his mom's shoulder before being handed to his big sister, and it made me mad. Mad that this woman who claims to stand for the rest of the moms of America chooses to put her political posturing on front of the very simple needs of an infant: Safety. Calmness. And at night-- sleep. 

I am going to entirely ignore everything else about Sarah Palin and say one thing: you cannot claim to be a hockey mom. Maybe you were once-- but you aren't now. 

You do not stand for the mothers of America when you go back to work the day after your child is born. You do not stand for the mothers of America when you pull your kids out of school and take them across country to stand on late-night stages with you. You do not stand for the mothers of America when you put on high heels and trot down steep disembarkment ramps schlepping around your infant like a sack of potatoes.

Because the last thing mothers of America need are a 1-day maternity leave, kids traveling with them for work, and the press flashing bulbs in the faces of babies.

(I would say this to any man who claimed to be a family man and then postured with his baby on a stage late at night, so it's not a sexism thing.)

But you are not being a good parent when you choose the ten-second photo op over the logical choice of what would have been best for that little boy: a familiar room, a familiar caregiver, and lights out a whole lot earlier than after 9:30. 

Amen.

from here:

The first business plan I came up with to become a full-tine farmer centered around milking 10 cows and selling the milk to neighbors at regular retail supermarket prices. It would have been a nice living. But it's illegal.

...

I think it's amazing that in a country which promotes the freedom to own firearms, freedom to worship and freedom of speech, we don't have the freedom to choose our own food... Half the alleged food in the supermarket is really dangerous to your health.

Say it, Salatin!

I'm pretty against the bail-out, mainly because we don't have the money to do it.

But in case you're unconvinced Wall Street affects Main Street:

I'm trying to get a local business to sponsor a $500 Movie on Main Street event. Not a big deal for this particular company-- except they can't get at their cash.

The bank is holding the deposited checks-- frozen. So he can't write me a check until his account funds are fully available, and my event goes unsponsored for at least another week.

In other news, Annaliese's top 2 teeth have popped through. She is not sleeping as well but we think this is due to the chilly night temperatures, and tonight she's got a heater in her room... so we'll see.

Today she took a nap in the am, then refused and refused and refused to sleep in the afternoon. Everytime we put her down we'd come in to find her standing, holding the rails, and screaming.

So, like many a parent before us, we gave up.

Around 4 K. looked up from the laptop to see her dozing in her exersaucer, face falling onto the toys. Pretty darn funny.

This am she wore the sweater her VT grandmama knitted for the first time: