Loser Family, Inc.

Bug Wars

2010-07-07T20:07:00.009-04:00

Ah, my husband and his antics. Honestly, he's the one who should have a blog.

So first, the background.

Corinne has been into bugs lately. She loves searching for them and putting them into her "bug catcher", a small plastic death trap where innocent unsuspecting bugs are imprisoned and then forgotten in the hot sun with no access to food or water. She likes bugs of all kinds, even if she is afraid to touch many of them, like spiders.

Given this, Pete, being the great dad that he is, decided that it would be very cool to order some praying mantis (mantii? who the hell knows) online to hatch and release into our "garden" (i.e. weeds, the aforementioned rhubarb, and some crazy raspberry bushes threatening to take over the yard). He ordered 600 of them. Six hundred. Have I ever mentioned that I hate bugs, by the way? Especially big creepy ones that are capable of this. He also ordered 1,500 ladybugs to round it out.

Sadly this is not a story of big gross bugs in my garden. For that I am both relieved and disappointed. No, instead it is a tale of poor customer service and strongly worded emails.

Here is the email that we received from the bug company:

Your insect order has been shipped. If your area is more than 90F, then your order will go FedEx or UPS two day air at your expense, extra bugs will be sent for compensation. Ladybug orders of 18k to72k are sent second or next day air depending on temperatures. We choose the most economic, safest and fastest means of shipping. Upon arrival, cool ladybugs for 4 to 12 hours, then mist down the released area. Release in the very late afternoon or early evening. Orders of more than one package are packaged into a single bag of ladybugs to keep a low cost. Directions can be found on the links below. Please mail payment when your bugs have arrived. No part of your order other than shipping will be charged to you credit card as stated at check out. Please pay the total as shown on the invoice you will receive with your purchase.

So we eagerly began awaiting the shipment, checking periodically throughout the day to make sure we were ready to cool the little buggers off. Well, after a week we realized they weren't coming, so Pete sent an email to the company. No answer. He sent another one. Still no answer. He called and left a voice mail, no answer. So Pete sent this email:

Dear Growquest,
I have sent two emails to the ladybugs@growquest.com address and left one voice mail message at the 805 921 3900 number, asking for clarification regarding the invoice (enclosed) and instructions for requested (and apparently) shipped items. To date, I have received nothing from your company, either as product or customer service.

I suspect that the season is over. All I can say is that both I and my autistic daughter are incredibly disappointed. We planned and discussed this event of rearing praying mantis and planned a release of the lady bugs with her peers. She was very excited for this experience. Thank you for ruining it with your inattentive and customer adverse model.

Upon doing more research into your organization, I've learned much, none of it positive. It would appear that I am one of hundreds that have been negatively affected and cheated by your organization. As you've already been reported to the CaBBB, and clearly have an extensive following of haters, there is little recourse for my frustration.

Thanks for nothing except disappointing a little girl that already has enough hardship and a father that wanted to make her happy.

Go Pete! Pullin' the autism card! He also started doing some research on this company, which turns out to be one guy, and found that this guy has screwed tons of people, and it seems his MO is not getting back to people. He had over 100 negative, in many cases scathing, reviews. This time we received a response within 12 hours:

Well that is a bit dramatic. First you have been charged for nothing, so there is nothing to be cheated on, second ifthe matter was that urgent nothing stopped you from making the purchase from another mroe responsive vendor.

Third, my voicemail was very clear from the middle of May to the mid June " I AM OUT OF LADYBUGS DUE TO A LATE HARVEST THIS SEASON" really a little individual responsibility would have helped.

I am happy to send your daughter a free package of ladybugs, one does not rear mantis, one allows them to hatch and then release them.

Perhaps a better lesson to teach children is not to sit on your ass blaming others for 6 weeks, nearly 4 of which you would have found notices posted on my facebook page and my voice mail and my twitter feed NO BUGS, and to take decisive and immediate action to satisfy your needs.

Whooo boy. Now that's some great customer service. Them's fightin' words. Pete's response:

First, thank you for finally replying. I had honestly given up and simply sent an email in complete frustration with the process. Your response is priceless and has clarified everything.

My assumption, based on the message sent below (including invoice), was that you were shipping the products as ordered. Updates provided on your voice mail message? Facebook? Why would I check Facebook to determine the status of an order when you sent me an invoice and shipping statement (see below)? Perhaps if you replied when customers were simply inquiring, instead of irrate, you wouldn't receive angry emails and the extensive following of dissatisfied customers. If any of my prior requests were greeted with a reply or call back, we wouldn't be in this situation. To belittle me as an upset client is, to be honest, pretty incredible. As an FYI, the voice mail message stated that lady bugs were on order, with extras being sent to make up for potential losses. Also, no mention of the other half of the order for the mantis eggs. Rearing or releasing, you didn't send them.

In one communication, you have solidified every outlandish review that I have read about you. I am shocked at their accuracy and your belligerence. I'd like to follow your company's progression, but my understanding is that your company is reborn under a new moniker periodically to shed dissatisfied customers. Please watch for your well-crafted response anywhere I can post it. There are enough sites focused on your business dealings and ethics.

You'll notice that I'm not sitting "on my ass" to deal with this. The lesson that I'll pass on to my daughter is to do on-line research before engaging with any vendor. Given how easy this would have been to avoid had I done a simple satisfaction search of Growquest Growers, it really is my fault. Shame on me for now having to join the hundreds of cheated and disappointed customers.

I am sorry to have engaged with you, for your treating me like an idiot for ordering from you, and the whole experience which should have been positive and easy. Instead, painful and appalling.

In closing - keep the ladybugs for the next misled customer, fuck you, and good day. If you are able to honor any request from a customer, do not contact me again.

Ah, I love my guy! I particularly like all the corporate jargon that I refer to as Pete's "work voice", and the "good day sir" nod to Willy Wonka. I also love that this whole thing is over something as gay as lady bugs. The lesson here: don't come between a father and his desire to please his little princess. And do your research first.

Dear Blog

2010-03-07T21:05:00.003-05:00

Dear Blog,

Please forgive me for straying so far and for so long. Again. You know you are the one I truly care about... Facebook means nothing to me, I swear. Just a quickie here and there, purely physical. You know I always come back to you for the real intimacy.

Has it really been 5 months since I last posted? I don't even have anything to say for myself. On a day to day basis there's nothing Earth-shattering to report, nothing blog-worthy, just lots of good Facebook fodder. But then all of a sudden 5 months have passed and Lily has gone from sitting to crawling to walking and has developed a distinct personality, and I haven't documented any of it. It's that second child syndrome! And then I just get so far behind that it becomes overwhelming to get it all up to speed.

To refresh my memory I went back and read all my Facebook posts since October. Here it is, in a nutshell.

Loser Family Inc.- What You Might Have Missed (the Clif Note version):
Painted some murals; cats suck; kids are driving me crazy; Lily has sleeping issues; kids are sick; trip to San Diego; Lily has sleeping issues; Corinne says something wacky; Lily crawling; Corinne's a jellyfish; Corinne doesn't need speech anymore; sick kid(s); Lily climbing stairs; sick dog; Lily eats dog's meds; plantar fasciaitis sucks; did our wills; Lily has sleep issues; Christmas= stressmas; cats suck; dogs suck; Lily has sleep issues; basal cell nose surgery sucks; sick kid(s); sick me; sick everyone; computer sucks; Lily eats cat puke (cats suck); Shamu sucks; sick kid; cats suck; another sick kid, sick husband.

And there you have it. That brings us up to date. Yes, many of these topics certainly deserve their own posts, and I will try to at least address the most important ones in the very near future, namely: 1) Corinne's progress (subtitle: Corinne is a super star) 2) Lily is Trouble, with a capital T (subtitle: it's a good thing she's adorable) 3) So, is Lily "Typical"? It's the question on everyone's mind...

All these topics, and more. I save my best for you, dear blog. Stay tuned...

The Other Shoe Falls

2009-10-25T20:48:00.003-04:00

Well, I knew it would happen sooner or later. The first real meltdown over not wanting to share with Lily. And the thing Corinne didn't want to share was my attention and affection.

There were signs it was coming. Like asking me to lift her over my head like Lily, or tickle her like Lily. Also her obsessions have been getting worse; everything has to be about sea creatures, fish, and Shamu. And then there's comments such as "I don't feel like listening to Lily crying" (she got that one from me) Plus she has been having small random meltdowns all week over insignificant things, so we suspected that there was more than meets the eye going on. But she never complained or even seems to notice when I pay more attention to Lily, and I was starting to think her indifference was maybe a PDD thing.

No doubt Lily is taking up a lot of our time. It seems like all I ever say is, "in a minute Corinne, I need to feed Lily" or "...as soon as I get Lily to bed". Lily is 8 months old and very "typical", which has actually been a big adjustment for Pete and I. We're not use to a baby that is into everything, endlessly curious, and fearless. She just started crawling last week, and is really gaining confidence, speed, and a devilish gleam in her eye. She's already pulling up onto everything, and the only thing that stands between her and walking is balance. She's got the strength, she's got the technique, and she certainly has the desire. She is a lot of fun, but, like any baby, she is also very demanding. I've been so focused on treating her the same way we did Corinne as an infant and avoiding the "second child complacency" that I think I've been overlooking my first baby.

So I think it started because Pete had to leave this afternoon, on a Sunday, to go to New Jersey for work for a couple days. Corinne picked right upon the change in routine: "Why you have to go to work now, dadda? Will you be home for dinner? Why you have to work so much, dadda? (I swear I didn't put her up to it!) She seemed sad that he left, and then she decided she wanted to go inside (it was a beautiful day and I was trying to get some yard winterizing done, so while we were outside together, I was not giving her my undivided attention) I told her a couple times that we would go inside in a little while, but she just wouldn't let it go and then the tears came. She said she was tired, which has been her thing lately. She says she just wants to lay on the couch, which is what we did a few weeks ago when she was sick, and now I think it's her ruse to cuddle with me. I told her that maybe she should take a nap if she's so tired, but then it became all about reading a book first and we just weren't getting anywhere. Finally I sat her down and told her that I noticed she'd been getting upset a lot lately, and asked her if something was bothering her and out it came: "I want to have just Momma time with no Lily. I never get just momma and dadda time anymore. I don't really like Lily". There was something so... I don't know... big girl... mature, about her tears. She was trying to keep herself under control and failing, and when I told her that Momma and Dadda still loved her very much and how I knew it was a big change and how hard it was, she cried even harder. It broke my heart. I must admit that as a fellow first born, I distinctly remember feeling jealous and resentful of my sister. I had so been hoping to prevent this with my kids. My heart wants to be supermom, and be all things to both kids, to give both of them all the attention they want/need/ deserve. I want to do crafts with Corinne, teach her things, take her places. I want to entertain Lily, help her along with her milestones, stimulate her mind. But in reality I am so very tired. I just don't have the energy. Frankly, there are times I can't wait to put them both to bed so I can just have a couple hours to myself. There are days when I count the minutes. And there are many nights when I go to bed feeling guilty, inadequate, impatient, selfish; worrying about how my actions today will impact them down the road.

I don't mean to complain. I love my kids, I love my husband, I have a wonderful life. I just never dreamed it could be so draining, physically and emotionally. This parenthood thing got exponentially harder with the addition of a second kid. I remind myself of the most important lesson I learned with Corinne: this too shall pass. No matter how dark things seem when you're in the thick of it, when it seemed like the issue du jour would never be resolved, when you weren't sure how you'd possibly get through another day or week or even another minute of it, in reality most things were just a phase that eventually ended. A few months later looking back on it, you barely remembered how bad it was. I know Corinne will adjust to being a big sister, that eventually Lily will become fun, that we will be able to do things as a family instead of the "divide and conquer" approach we have adopted as of late. I know I'll find the groove and find a balance between the two, that we'll all become increasingly independent. As for today, we both had a good cry, skipped the nap and played a game, did a puzzle, read a book. Corinne seemed no worse for the wear and I've convinced myself that she won't become a convicted felon because I can't play sea creatures all day long with her. Now both kids are asleep in bed, I've got a glass of wine and a bunch of episodes of "ER" and "Bridezilla" on DVR. Until tomorrow morning, it's all about me. This too shall pass... this too shall pass.

Our Family: A Composition in Balloons

2009-09-14T09:43:00.001-04:00

Corinne loves to color, much like her mother did (ok, still does) and draw. She's my regular little chip off the old block. She's getting better every day, too. She now colors inside the lines and uses appropriate colors (except on Rainbow Fridays, of course). She gets a lot of practice, as she averages 2 -3 pages a day in her coloring books (I often find her with the bedroom lights back on, coloring, and hour or more after she went to bed, and again first thing in the morning). And her drawing, I feel, is exceptionally good for her age. She does the typical sun with many rays and grass at the bottom and sky at the top, but what impresses me is her little houses have curtains in them and her people are usually wearing a shirt with a picture on it. She also writes random letters along the top and then tells me what it says. I could post dozens of pictures of her work, so proud am I (and believe me, I considered it), but decided to limit it to this particular series. For now. After her birthday part she decided to draw our family members on the left over balloons.

This one is me (note the red balloon, and the long hair).

This one is Lily. See how she made her smaller, and with just a little clump of hair on top. She kind of looks like Stewie Griffin.

Emma, our cat. Can't forget the pets (no Phineas, as no one ever actually sees him)
And Seven. I think those are supposed to be her ears sprouting out of the eyes.

This one is Papa. He doesn't wear glasses, but he does have a mustache (although not like Hitler's)

This one is my favorite. It's Pete. Note the glasses and teeny tiny little hairs on top of his head.

More to come, I'm sure.

Corinne's Coming Out...Oops, I Mean Rainbow Birthday Party

2009-09-13T09:51:00.001-04:00

So Corinne decided on a rainbow theme for her birthday party this year. (She actually wanted a fish theme again, but I encouraged her to do something different). She really likes rainbows. Actually, it's not the rainbow itself, but the use of every color that appeals to her. In school her teachers have instituted Rainbow Fridays, the day that she gets to cut loose and use all the crayon colors to do her work (on regular days it's more about function over form, and she has to use just one color to color such things as the biggest object in a group of pictures, or the shortest, etc.) But I digress. Suffice it to say that the girl digs rainbows. And of course, you know how understated I like to keep these parties... As we like to say in our house: Anything worth doing is worth overdoing

You could say we got a little carried away with the rainbow theme (ba dum bum)

We had rainbow face paint Rainbow crafts

And of course rainbow cake (made by my friend Meghan)

Rainbow cake cross section
and rainbow cupcakes

The last two rainbow cookies

Rainbow fruit platter (for the diet conscious and diabetic)

Rainbow friends

Rainbow after-party
(I can't talk about Corinne's rainbow party without mentioning Marc, Emma's daddy, who perhaps had one too many rainbow cookies. This was taken just before Marc passed out at the base of the slide. The girls had tons of fun sliding repeatedly onto his head.)

Icky Jello

2009-09-13T09:45:00.000-04:00

So gross was the jello for Corinne's Rainbow Party, it warranted its own blog post. Just to give a bit of history, I had a jello disaster at Corinne's last birthday party, too. As you may recall, last year's theme was under the sea. I had seen a cute idea on a website to put blue jello into small clear plastic cups with little swedish fish in them and voila, little fish bowls.

The problem began when I only bought one package of jello, which ended up making only 4 fish bowls. Too lazy to go back out to the store, I thought I'd improvise (the demise of so many of my cooking adventures, yet I never learn) and make my own jello using blue gatorade and gelatin. Well, gatorade doesn't quite have enough flavor to carry itself in jello form, it turns out, but I forged on anyway. And then just to make it look as bad as it tasted, I decided to be clever and add sprinkles to it, you know, to make a little layer of aquarium gravel. Except that sprinkles float. And dissolve. So all it did was make really cloudy, water flavored jello with mystery things floating in it. The swedish fish were cute, though. *

Never one to learn from past mistakes, I decided once again to dabble in the medium of jello. This time I wanted to make rainbow layered jello. I think that would have been OK but, as always, I had to take it up a notch. Our friend Karen makes a great layered jello salad at Christmas. It has these delicious white "inter-layers" that are firm, yet creamy. Kind of cheesecake textured. I remembered that she said these layers were sour cream based, so I went on line and found what I believed to be the recipe. I started my jello a day ahead of time to give the layers plenty of time to set (rushing and cutting corners time-wise is another of my oft repeated cooking mishaps). The purple layer came out great, but the white cream layer wasn't quite right. It contained gelatin, so it took on a jello-like texture. I managed to get it onto the purple layer more or less OK, and then set to work on the blue layer. By the time the blue layer had hardened, the white cream stuff was also hard. I figured I'd just beat it with my mixer (this seems to work with cream cheese frosting, so why not here?) Well, it didn't. At this point anyone with any sense would have simply aborted the mission but oh no, not this chick. I proceeded with the next two layers and just globbed that white mess on in between. Somewhere around the yellow layer I decided that this just wasn't working, and finished off the orange and red minus the white. The problem with this was the last layers were too clear, and you could see the globules lurking beneath the surface. See:

Again, normal people would have thrown in the towel and said "who really likes jello, anyway?" Or they would have just started over again, maybe minus the white layers (or would have called Karen for the recipe, which is what I should have done in the first place) But I was afraid I didn't have enough time left, and damn it, I paid all of 99 cents per box of jello**. I just threw some whipped cream on top to cover it up and, well, I think the picture really speaks for itself: Yeah. You know you want it. By now so much time and effort had gone into it I had to put it out, even if no one in their right mind would find it the least bit appetizing. I explained to those who politely inquired that the white stuff was not curdled cream, as it may appear, and even convinced a couple people to have some (and they said it tasted pretty good, as long as you didn't look at it.) See; I even have pictures to prove it:

Some were not convinced:

In the end it sat around in our refrigerator for a few days getting all mixed together and runny in that way that jello does. Ultimately I ate some myself, and only when it was 2/3 of the way gone did I finally feel it was OK to part with it.

And so ends this year's jello tragedy. I swear I won't make it again next year, and now I have pictures to remind me why (as if Pete won't).

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*One more related note regarding last year's party: I also had a cupcake disaster. The oil I used smelled a little... well, it had a smell, and I'm pretty sure vegetable oil's not supposed to (Hey Erin- remember the time when we made daddy's birthday cake using olive oil?) But I used it anyway and the resulting cupcakes tasted like they smelled. The worst part was that I brought a big batch of them to Corinne's Early Intervention playgroup and gave them to her teachers, peers, and their families before tasting them myself. In fact, I didn't know there was anything wrong with them until I noticed at the party that Pete's Uncle David ate only one bite before abandoning it. At that point I tasted one. I later mentioned the unpleasant flavor to David and he gave the the accurate descriptive word: "rancid". Oopsie!

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** Pete returned home from the grocery store later that day with a pre-made rainbow jello, complete with whipped cream. And it was only 99 cents. He labelled it "Plan B".

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

2009-09-12T14:00:00.000-04:00

Whew! It sure has been awhile. Like all summer. I have many excuses: Lily not sleeping much, lots of summer plans, paid painting projects, Lily not sleeping much... Mostly I was just overwhelmed with the task of bringing the blog up to date. I have a number of post ideas rolling around in my head, but as always I felt the need to post in order and lacked the motivation to back fill in order to do so. I have finally decided, in the interest of actually bringing this poor blog back from the dead, to just do a brief summary of "What I Did on My Summer Vacation" using Facebook posts, which I did post on pretty regularly (making me a big ol' hypocrite, as ignoring my blog in favor of Facebook was something I swore I wouldn't do), to at least get me started. I can then add pictures and other details as I see fit, and post some of the other things later, in no particular order. This offends me to the very core of my obsessive/ compulsive nature, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Pointless Drivel From Facebook

2009-09-12T13:58:00.014-04:00

For all two of you who read this blog but not Facebook (Dad), here is some of how I have been wasting my valuable free time for the past 3 months (the rest of the world can just skip this post, cause you've already read it, although I did add some pictures to keep it fresh):

June 5- In just 3 more hours both of my kids are heading up to Maine to stay at Grandma's for the whole weekend, so Pete and I can enjoy our 7th (!) wedding anniversary. Yay for us! No plans, just relaxing, sleeping in, enjoying having it be all about us for a change.

June 6- Andrea is listening to music at an excessively high volume and NOT watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse!

June 7- Andrea has thoroughly enjoyed a weekend of eating (japanese steak house, brunch, cheesecake and all you can eat sushi buffet- not necessarily in that order), sleeping in, movie watching (Land of the Lost, sadly, a big thumbs down), dog walking, and wedding day nostalgia

(I found this photo on our camera, which we had sent up to Maine with Uncle Jim and Aunt Lisa. I'm guessing it was taken "the morning after")

June 11- Andrea just got back from Corinne's end-of-the-year preschool party. Can't believe how far she's come this year, and how big she's gotten. My baby's all growed up :(

June 15- Andrea is back home after attending the wedding of forever bachelor Mark F, in lovely Ithaca. Then a couple days in Toga with mom and dad (who so graciously took Thing 1 for the weekend. Thing 2 came with us) Had a great time.
June 16- Andrea really wishes she didn't have kids, just for today, so she could go stand in line at Whole Foods in Cambridge for 8 hours to meet and get a signed bottle of wine from the normally reclusive Maynard James Keenan (wine maker and singer for all-time favorite band, Tool)

June 16- Andrea is jealous... Pete went and got two bottles signed, and only had to wait an hour for his 8 seconds with Maynard.
June 19- Yay! I just got us tickets to see Tool in August, thereby making this the BEST summer of music EVER!! Now all that's left is to go see Blue Man Group, right Mark?!

June 20- Andrea woke up at 8:30 this morning to the strangest thing: no rain and a still sleeping baby. I thought I was dreaming. Or the end of the world is upon us. Or hell has frozen over.

June 22- Andrea is wondering if it's wrong of me to enjoy that my baby is sick with a cold. She's just so sweet and cuddly. And she sleeps a lot.

June 25- Andrea is very tired and cranky. Lily was up every single hour, on the hour, last night for no apparent reason. Until 4, that is. Then she was crying every 15 minutes.

June 25- So remember when I thought my baby was sweet and cuddly when she's sick? Yeah. Not so much anymore.

June 29- Andrea just got back from a rainy, rainy weekend up in Maine with Pete's family. Then it was sunny and hot here in Maynard when we got home. Doesn't it just figure. Had a great time nonetheless. Vic- give Seven a kiss for us and tell her to have fun at Camp Vicky.
June 30- Andrea managed to squeeze in mowing the lawn, raking, seeding and beetle killing this afternoon. It's amazing what you can accomplish when your baby finally tales a long nap again (and it stops raining for more than an hour).

July 2- Andrea is wondering if the suicide rate is higher this month from all this F-ing rain. Or the murder rate...

July 3- Andrea is installing a linoleum floor in her kitchen all by herself. Go me. I am woman, hear me roar!

July 7- Andrea's cat just puked in his own water bowl. How stupid does one have to be to willingly foul one's own food/ water supply?

July 13- Andrea just got home from the Morgan Family Reunion. Had a great time swimming, drinking, s'more making, ice cream eating, parade go-er harassing, carnival attending. But we now need the proverbial vacation to recover from the vacation. Oh, and Seven's got fleas. Sorry people-Who's-House-We-Were-Staying-At-As-A-Favor-Who-We-Don't-Even-Know!

July 23- Andrea was a little bit disappointed with the new Harry Potter movie. Lots of details changed and left out unnecessarily. Too much emphasis on romance and not enough on the history and background of Voldemort and the horcruxes (God I sound like a dork)

July 26- Andrea is enjoying an afternoon to herself. Pete took the girls for a hike/ flower picking/ ice cream so I can get some stuff done. On my list: sanding/ priming wood for a sign, designing said sign, sketches for pending truck mural and hopefully updating my blog. So what am I doing? facebooking, of course!

July 28- Andrea wants to know why Miss Lil' pill is sleeping for shorter periods at night instead of longer? If she wasn't so damn cute and smiley, I think I'd strangle her (just kidding- don't anyone report me to DCFS. If I were going to kill a baby, it surely would have been Corinne, who was so cute, but not so damn smiley)

July 31- Andrea was quite surprised to come home to find that one of the trees in our yard has fallen. No wind, completely alive, just lying on the ground. Fortunately, it could not have fallen at a better angle, so house, deck, swingset and fence were spared. I suspect the ground hog who has turned our yard into a labyrinth of tunnels. I'm gonna have to get all Bill Murray from Caddyshack on it's ass.
Aug 2- Tool concert tonight! Hope they play "Prison Sex" :)

Aug 3- People I had on my bedroom wall when I was growing up:
Duran Duran, The Outsiders, Van Halen, A Ha, Han Solo

Aug 5- Andrea just finished sorting through all of Corinne's school work and art work from the past year. I threw a lot away, which breaks my heart, but we are being overrun with paper bag turkeys, paper plate crafts, glitter glue and macaroni art, mural sized finger paintings, coloring book pages and drawings.

Aug 6- Andrea is pretty bummed out to see that John Hughes died. I was kind of hoping he'd make another masterpiece like The Breakfast Club someday. Sigh. My youth is truly gone.

Aug 9- Andrea is OD'd on rainbows.

Aug 11- Andrea could just cry right now. After my 6 month battle with thrush, failed breast feeding, the inconvenience of pumping every 3-5 hours, and my slowly depleting milk supply, I have just discovered that the 20 or so bags of frozen breast milk that I had stored in my freezer that were supposed to take us through the next couple of months have all gone sour.

Aug 12- Andrea is heading off tot he Bolton Fair for some vestibular stimulation.

Aug 13- Today Corinne asked me where skin comes from. We've entered the realm of the complicated questions. We've already covered "where do babies come from?", "what is God?" and "what does dead mean?" Of course, there are also still plenty of questions like "mama, am I wearing pants?"

Aug 18- Andrea is trying to enjoy Pete being home from work for a whole week, despite the fact that it has already been dubbed "worst vacation ever"

Aug 20- Andrea is so very tired. Day two of "Ferberizing" Lily. it ultimately worked with Corinne, but God does the process suck.

Aug 21- Andrea feels terrible. Lily fell forward while practicing her sitting and of course fell onto the one hard thing in the area (that I was sure was safely out of her range); a tin box with the lid off. Now she has a nice, inch- long, bruised line on her little baldie head :(

Aug 24- Andrea hates bugs! So far this morning I put my hand onto some kind of big, mushy insect exoskeleton-type-thing and then proceeded to walk through a huge spider web with a huge, fat, ugly spider in it. Thank God it didn't get onto my face or anything, I would have had a heart attack right there on the spot and my poor kids would grow up motherless. YUCK!

Aug 26- After netting only 3 ounces of milk in an average day, I am officially finished with pumping. These babies are all wrung out. I feel liberated, but also disappointed that my body failed me again at the 6 month mark.

Aug 27- Corinne's a celebrity! At least here in M-- (even if they did spell her name wrong)... Not only is she featured in this story in our local paper, she also happened to get her picture taken for a completely unrelated story. If only we could have somehow worked in a plug for Bouncing Off the Walls...

Aug 27- So I asked Corinne if she thought the doctor that gave her her physical was nice (he was not her usual pediatrician). She said, and I quote: "yes, but he wasn't much to look at." I'm still laughing about it. I have NO idea where she came up with that one. it's not anything Pete or I have said. It's like she was just waiting for the opportunity to use the line.

Aug 28- Andrea is spending the evening with Pete, celebrating her body being her own again!

Aug 30- It's good to be back :)

Sept 2- Andrea's name anagram is: MAN DEAR GROAN. Corinne is IGNORANCE NORM and Lily is ROLLING ANIMAL. Hmm, maybe that is why she keeps rolling to her tummy a million times a night, requiring someone to come and roll her back over to make the screaming stop.

Sept 10- Why will Lily happily shove fistful after fistful of beach sand or soap suds into her mouth, but when it comes to baby food she gags and acts like I'm feeding her, well, beach sand and soap suds?

Playgroup, Then and Now

2009-06-29T21:02:00.002-04:00

This picture of Playgroup was taken June 28th, 2006.

L to R: Hannah L, Laura, Nina, Corinne, Emma

(this was how Corinne was at every play group)

This one was taken June 26, 2009.

L to R: Hannah W, Corinne, Laura, Emma, Nina, Hannah L, Kayla

Can't believe how big they've gotten, and how far Corinne has come.

Father's Day, a Tale in Pictures

2009-06-22T19:41:00.002-04:00

breakfast in bed
strawberry picking
hot dogs

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-09T15:11:00.002-04:00

Here's my annual Father's Day montage for Pete:

http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=8e1eed9ae719bbd849019d&skin_id=601&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

I Might Be Getting Too Old for This

2009-06-06T20:50:00.008-04:00

Pete and I just finished what I am calling the "Pete and Andrea's We-May-Be-Parents-But-We're-Not-Dead-Yet Tour". It consisted of three concerts in 6 weeks: Crystal Method, Prodigy, and Nine Inch Nails with Jane's Addiction. These bands are all in our top 10 and we couldn't possibly choose between them, so we decided to throw caution (and money) to the wind and see them all. We arranged for Uncle Jim and Aunt Lisa to babysit on the three Wednesday nights and we eagerly anticipated this rare opportunity to get back to our roots, so to speak, and rock out like we're 25 and childless again.

First up was Crystal Method, playing at the House of Blues in Boston. Pete and I are huge fans and we were very excited for this small venue. Crystal Method is described on Wikipedia as being an electronic music duo. You have heard their music, you just don't know it. Their songs have been used in a a bunch of TV shows and car commercials. "Busy Child" is probably their most recognizable hit. We actually had their song "Keep Hope Alive" play at our wedding when the wedding party was introduced at the reception. I associate their music with our cross country trips, just driving on the open road, red rocks and big sky all around, and you can't help but feel glad to be alive. Anyway, I must say that it is a little bit of a weird dynamic to see Crystal Method live, given that they are not really a band per say, so much as two guys playing the keyboards. Their music is a combination of synthesizers and sampling. In a live show this translates to two guys standing on a stage pushing buttons. It's probably the first show I've seen where having the visual aspect actually kind of took away from the experience, rather than enhance it. The music is so full of energy. It's all heavy base that you can feel in your chest and adrenaline pumping sound effects and it's all so wonderfully loud. With closed eyes you can really get lost in the music. But then you open your eyes and there's just these two middle-aged guys standing there, barely moving. At several points in the show they actually had their back to the audience for long stretches of time and were using a computer. Now I know that they were doing their sampling thing, but for all we knew they could have been Face Booking. And several times one or both of them would stop to take a drink, and yet the music just kept on going without a change. It was kind of the instrumental equivalent of lip synching. Don't get me wrong, I realize that it is an art form to be able to sample all that other stuff and create new music, and they do an amazing job at it. I'm just saying that what you saw didn't quite match what you heard, and the effect was just a little disappointing. The other funny thing was that at one point one of them (Kenny or Scott, I'm not really sure who's who) decided to "get down with it" and lifted up the keyboard and played it like an air guitar. He then accidentally knocked it off the stage, and for the next 15 minutes the roadies frantically tried to fix it and ultimately replace it, all the while the music sounding no different without it. He got really annoyed and appeared to be blaming the roadies. They ended the show shortly after that and didn't even do an encore, which we thought was kind of lame.

(Crystal Method, looking considerably more animated than they did at the show!)

Next up was Prodigy, which took place at the same club. This time Pete and I got smart and didn't get there right when the doors opened at seven, like we did for Crystal Method (note to self: if the doors open before your preschooler is even in bed, chances are the headline act is not really starting at that time, and to think so just shows how terribly un-hip and out of touch you are with the cool people).

Prodigy is also electronic based, although they are much more "band-like" than Crystal Method, and have a more hardcore/ punk/ industrial/ rave kind of sound. The two singing guys, Keith Flint and Maxim Reality, are truly a couple of freaks (and I mean that in the most affectionate of ways), and they never stopped moving, screaming, and arm flailing (kind of like Lily). It was a really good show. Pete and I pushed our way onto the floor even though we had seats; the shows are just so much better when you're right in the middle of the insanity. But it did make me painfully aware of how, well, not young I am. Here I am, 37 years old, jumping up and down and getting stepped on, shoved, fondled and just generally having my personal space invaded by a bunch of punk-ass kids while screaming along with a band who's best known song is called "Smack My Bitch Up". There were glow sticks a-flying and people slam dancing (is that even what they call it anymore?) and a couple chicks crowd surfing and all I could think of was, "please be careful of my lactating boobies! I need to be able to go home and feed my precious angel!" It was just striking to me how different my maternal lifestyle is from this one. Eventually I had to step out of the pit and get some air and get away from all the sweaty, stinky bodies pressed up against me (ewww). If only you could have a little bubble of, say, 6 inches of air conditioned personal space with piped in fresh air to wear around you, then it would be OK. Like a Disney character suit or something. So I lamed out, but I did make it through most of the show. Pete, on the other hand, took full advantage of my leaving to push his way right up the the front for the last two songs (talk about opposite lifestyles. This is a man who manages 27 or so people and is considered to be a bit of a curmudgeon (I love that word) among his employees.)

(Super Freak Keith Flint of The Prodigy)

This video really gives a sense of the chaos that is a Prodigy concert:

http://www.theprodigy.com/videos?task=videodirectlink&id=42

Last up was Nine Inch Nails and Jane's Addiction. This one was at a real concert amphitheater, as opposed to a club. We ended up going with my cousin Shaun, which is really random because he lives in San Diego. He happened to be in the area for training and when he heard we were going, he got himself a ticket, too. The totally unfair thing was that we'd bought our tickets months ago and got crappy seats. He bought his the day of the show and was in, like, the third row. Not kidding. Dave Navarro (guitar player for Jane's) was practically sweating on the him. Shaun's seats were so good that he used up all of his phone's power taking dozens of photos. Because of this, his phone died and we spent an hour trying to find him after the show. We were planning on leaving without him, assuming that his incredible Cali-luck and close proximity to the bands had gotten him backstage (and even closer to Trent, Perry and Dave). Damn you Shaun!

So NIN was a little disappointing in that they only played 4 or 5 songs that I recognized. We're not die-hard fans, but we do own several of their albums, including what I thought was the most recent one, so I don't know where they pulled all these obscure songs from, or why. Jane's more than made up for it, though. They could not have been better. They were still very tight as a band, had a ton of energy, sounded great, and played all their hits. They opened with our favorite song, "3 Days", and I was worried that after that the rest would be anticlimactic, but the whole show was amazing. The highlight for me was the first encore, which was "Summer Time Rolls". It's a song that has a lot of personal sentiment for Pete and I. For our wedding reception we had picked out seven favorite, meaningful songs to be played throughout the night. Whenever one of those songs played, we stopped what we were doing long enough to look around and take it all in and enjoy the moment (knowing that the whole evening would fly by in a blur). "Summer Time Rolls" was one of those songs. It was very timely, the concert being 5 days before our seventh wedding anniversary. It was the perfect end to the perfect music trifecta.

(Dave Navarro is the bomb! This picture was taken by Shaun,

from his amazing seat.

Lucky bastard. No photos from our seats,

as Dave Navarro would be an itty-bitty ant.)

I was going to end this post here, but I felt like something was missing, like I hadn't quite captured what these shows meant to me or how they felt. I realized what I didn't mention, what was missing... the best part, really, which was the time spent reconnecting with my honey. Life gets so busy with kids and work and errands and house projects, and while you don't necessarily forget about why you fell in love with this person, you do maybe get a little bit distracted from it. It was nice to go out and do the things we did when it was just about the two of us. When we were allowed to be selfish and self indulgent. I'm proud of us for taking this time for us, and for going out and not acting our ages. Much like those seven songs at our wedding, it made me stop and look around and appreciate it all. I am still madly in love with the man that I married. We are still connected after seven years. We still share the same sense of humor, taste in music, and appreciation for the absurd and ironic. We are still best friends, first and foremost. We've still got it, Baby. Happy Anniversary.

It's a Short Trip to Crazy

2009-05-18T20:47:00.002-04:00

Forget about water boarding. The cruelest form of torture is driving for any length of time with an infant and a preschooler.

My dad's birthday was this past week, so I drove to my parents' in upstate New York for the weekend, just the girls and I, to surprise him. This is a three hour drive under the best of circumstances (i.e. no traffic, no stopping). It's an eternity when you have a fussy baby. Corinne was OK. It was Miss Lily, who took a nice nap for the first half and then screamed intermittently for the second half. Both there and back. Two hours. It wouldn't be so bad if she just cried continuously. It's the starting and stopping that makes it like the Chinese water torture. Here's a break down of the return trip:

12:15-- Both kids crying as we leave Mimmie and Poppa's. Lily is overtired. Corinne is devastated because I wouldn't let her help me pack the car, and I snapped at her. Already I am tense and tired (did I mention that Lily was up every hour the night before? Yeah.)
12:30-1:30-- Sleeping baby, happily reading preschooler. Ahhhh. This is kind of nice.
1:45-- Corinne has to pee. Really? Can you hold it? Please? Lily is sleeping...
2:00--Stop at a rest stop to pee. Why did we want her potty trained?
2:20-- Lily is not happy to be returning to her car seat. She begins to fuss in half-assed manner.
2:30-- Whimpers becoming more urgent and angry.
2:35-- Crying stops. Maybe she's asleep?
2:40-- Crying resumes with more intensity. She's not asleep. I put on new age music to soothe us all. Can barely hear it over crying and it just annoys me anyway. Change it to "Tool"- loud and angry music. Perfect.
2:45-- All out screaming, she's royally pissed off. Please God, let there be no traffic, just this once.
2:50-- Stop again at next available rest stop. Attempt to feed Lily the bottle in parking lot. She's not interested.
2:55-- Plop pacifier in and hit the highway again.
2:56-- Spits pacifier out. I do the reach-behind again, crawling all over her body with my fingers searching for missing pacifier. I can feel every square inch of her body and the car seat. No sign of pacifier. It has somehow disappeared off the face of the earth.
3:10-- Crying tapers off. Maybe she's worn herself out?
3:12-- Crying resumes. Corinne begins speculating as to what Lily might want: I think she's hungry. I think she's tired. I think she doesn't like her car seat. I think she doesn't like her coat. I think she doesn't like pink. I think she's tired... I acknowledge the first few times, then try to ignore her. She proceeds to repeat each thing over and over until I acknowledge. I finally snap "I don't know what her problem is, Corinne! She's just miserable, OK? Let's not talk about it anymore. Let's never speak of it again!"
3:15-- Screaming bloody murder resumes. I fantasize about driving off the road. Pete would never really know what happened, but would probably be suspicious with the lack of skid marks.
3:30-- Do the reach around again, this time to hold the bottle in desperate attempt to get her to feed. Shoulder practically dislocated. Very difficult to coordinate angle of bottle using rearview mirror in conjunction with baby-view mirror. She still doesn't want it.
3:40-- Start muttering about how Dadda is SO taking the two of you off my hands when we get home. And about how I'm never driving more than 15 minutes in the car with either of them again.
3:50-- Screaming tapers to crying, then to whimpering, then silence.
4:00-- Both kids asleep.
4:15-- Arrive home. Dump kids on Dadda and take a nap.

Purple

2009-05-01T16:15:00.000-04:00

Thrush treatment update: They're right- it does stain everything.

Life With Lily

2009-05-01T16:05:00.000-04:00

I know, it's about time I wrote about her, right? I mean, she's already almost 10 weeks old. I keep meaning to post, but then I'm like, what can you really say about a newborn that everyone doesn't already know? They sleep, they poop, they eat, they cry. Here are a few things of note regarding my Lil' Lil:

Boobies (warning: this might be TMI for those who are squeamish regarding women-stuff)

I think the most note-worthy thing with Lily has been nursing, or should I say the lack thereof. It's been one issue after another since I was in the hospital after her birth. First I had sore nipples and literally sores on my nipples from letting her be sloppy with her latch-on. Then I felt like she wasn't getting enough milk because I wasn't hearing her swallowing and my milk wasn't really letting down the way I remembered with Corinne. Then I started pumping and bottle feeding to give my poor nipples a break and to build up my supply. She got use to the bottle and no longer wanted the breast, and it's been a bit of a downward spiral ever since. So now that has left me...

Pumping

I feel like this is all I do. She just doesn't want my poor, tired, freakishly large (for me) boobies, which makes me sad. I really enjoyed breast feeding Corinne. I liked the bonding and the fact that I was where the buck stopped as far as Corinne and hunger were concerned. It's kind of an ego trip. I'm so bummed to not have this with Lily, too. And I hate pumping. It seems like every time I turn around it's time to pump again, and because I double-pump it means I have no free hands, so I have to just sit there for 15 minutes. Initially I needed to do it every 2 to 3 hours to build up my milk supply and get it well established. Now I am getting a lot of milk and am freezing quite a bit of it (enough that I could run away and Lily would be fed for a few weeks, not that the thought has crossed my mind , of course). I have wanted to throw in the towel a million times and say to hell with it, you're getting formula, chick. But I really want her to get breast milk and share in my killer immune properties (I never get sick. Not even colds) and the other 50 or so reasons why breast is best. I also cling to the dream that one day she will be back to breast feeding exclusively, and to stop pumping is to give that up that dream. So on and on I pump. I tell myself not to think about pumping for the next 10 or even 4 months. Just pump today. And the next day, and see how long I can keep it going. I'd like to at least go until she's 6 months old, when she starts taking solids. This is how long I nursed Corinne for before I was forced to wean her due to milk supply issues as well. But God do I hate pumping. The milk always leaks out and soaks my bra and Corinne always needs help wiping her poopy butt while I'm in the middle of pumping, or Lily starts screaming, or the phone rings, or the remote is across the room and the TV is on the Disney channel. I hate hand washing all the components 10 times a day (I have the worst case of dish pan hands) and I hate that it's the last thing I need to do before bed, especially when I fall asleep on the couch and even brushing my teeth seems too daunting a task. And it's the first thing I need to do when I wake up, which means getting up before both kids so I have 15 minutes of peace in which to do it. And I have to time every outing around it so I don't feel like I'm going to burst. And it's just an ugly thing to watch. The pump stretches the nipple out about an inch and the milk coming our reminds me of popping a white-head and the whole experience is like a cow being milked. Moo.

Thrush and Yeasties (OK, this one is definitelyTMI, too. Hey, no one said baby rearin's pretty.)

Compounding the nursing issue is the yeast infestation that Lily and I are passing back and forth. Lily started it with Thrush, a white cottage cheese-like coating on her tongue from a build up of yeast. Yuck. We treated it with minimal success by swabbing her tongue with some sort of anti-fungal liquid for ten days. This made her angry or gag or spit up or wake up or any combination of these. We were supposed to do this after she ate each time, and I admit we definitely didn't do it that often, it being so unpleasant for everyone involved and all. So the thrush remained. And then it showed up on my nipples, my reward for my occasional efforts to get Lily to nurse. Then I got a yeast infection down low that I misinterpreted as just post- delivery yuckiness. I got that cleaned up but the nipples remain a problem, and Lily's tongue is a mess. I rather foolishly thought that if I didn't nurse her anymore it would clear up, but lo and behold, it perseveres because it gets onto the pump and in the milk. Duh. And this includes my frozen milk stash that I'm so proud of. And let me tell you, there is no way in hell I'm dumping it. I worked too hard for it. We'll both just have to suffer endlessly. I've never heard of anyone dying of thrush, or having their entire body over run with yeast. Eventually it's gotta run it's course, right? (Actually my doctor told me about some kind of purple dye treatment that you can do that usually clears it right up, and also stains everything purple, but it's worth it if it works. So I think we'll try that next.) I'll keep you posted, cause I know everyone wants to hear more about our yeast issues. Beer and sourdough bread, anyone?

Comparing Thing One with Thing Two

Yes, I know it's not fair to compare any two children. But when one of your kids has PDD and it's pretty much known that autism is hereditary, you'd better believe we're monitoring Lily's every developmental milestone. I'd be lying if I said we weren't. I know it's too soon to tell if Lily is autistic, but already we see a lot of differences between the two (we noticed before we'd even left the hospital). Overall she's a pretty happy baby. She has her moments, of course, but usually when she's crying we can just run down the checklist to figure out what's wrong and fix it. Is she hungry? Is she gross down below? Is she over-tired and irrational? She's a big fan of back thumping, and can almost always be calmed by patting her (I wish someone would invent a machine at does this for you, since I'm developing carpal tunnel from doing it all the time). When that doesn't work a good swaddling and a boobah usually finishes her off. She loves to be held, which is very sweet but is also a very convenient excuse for me to nap with her every day, telling myself it's the only way she'll nap.

It was so different with Miss Corinne. When she was a baby she was just miserable. At first Pete and I just didn't know better. We thought that was how babies were: crying all the time for no apparent reason, easily overwhelmed, often inconsolable, hating baths, never sleeping in public of even in the car, afraid of strangers, prone to meltdowns of astronomical proportions several times a day and just general fussiness the rest of the time... We use to say that Corinne's default mode was crying. When she was about 6 months old I started to see how babies her same age acted (generally happy) and I said, hey wait a minute... why isn't my kid like that? We started referring to her as Evil Corinne and we entered what we refer to as "the dark period". It was a tough time that only got tougher, culminating in her PDD-NOS diagnosis.

Don't get me wrong, I love Corinne to pieces, and in many ways she is now an "easier" child than her same aged peers because she is so cautious and so non-confrontational and eager to please. Usually a change in my tone of voice will stop naughty behavior right in it's tracks. And you only have to tell her something once and it's in that head forever, including "rules". But boy was it a long, hard road to get to where we are. I'm just saying that Lily's temperament is very different already (we actually thought there might be something wrong with her at first because she was so quiet. We thought she was too weak from hunger or something.) I'm sure she'll have her challenging behaviors, and in many ways we are spoiled with Corinne (for example, we never had to baby proof our house, and she's always been a great sleeper, sleeping 12 hours a night and followed by a 2-3 hour nap.) but at least we seem to be off to a good start. We're relieved that she has already met two critical milestones: smiling and eye contact, and she seems to have great muscle tone, holding her head up early on and flipping herself from stomach to back at only a few weeks of age. She doesn't mind strangers holding her or looking at her, she is very alert, looking around and cooing happily. We find ourselves saying things like "Ah, so this is how it's supposed to be!" So we'll keep monitoring her and crossing our fingers because damn it, we've earned the right to an easy baby!

Vaccines

Having one kid on the autism spectrum brings up a dilemma: to vaccinate or not to vaccinate subsequent kids (there are a lot of people who think that vaccines, for whatever reason, can cause autism in kids who are genetically prone to it)? I really don't know where I stand on this. We are both science people who work(ed) in pharmaceuticals who believe in the value of vaccinations. We're not holistic, all natural kind of people and we certainly don't belive there is some kind of conspiracy theory surrounding vaccines and mercury. But there is some compelling stuff out there regarding the fragile immune systems of autistic kids, usually manifesting itself with intestinal and metabolic issues. The belief is that their systems can't handle the bombardment of vaccinations in their first year, particularly some of the combination series. For example, at the two-month well-visit babies typically receive vaccines against six different diseases. I don't know if there's any merit to this, but I can say that Corinne had perpetual diarrhea and loose stool as a baby (it's still very loose) and often acted like she had a stomachache, to the point where we thought she was lactose intolerant. We even took her to a pediatric gastroenterologist. So here we are with our healthy, seemingly normal newborn baby and we're faced with this decision and wondering if we could potentially cause her to become autistic as a result of our good intentions. It's an awful thing to consider. Then again, so's having your kid contract something like polio or one of the deadly diseases that vaccinations prevent. We've chosen to go with a sort of compromise: we're skipping some vaccines for diseases she is not at high risk for (Hep B), and we're separating out the combo ones and spreading them out over a longer period of time, the goal being to have them all done by school age, but to not give her more than 2 at a time. It helps us sleep a little better at night.

The Kidney Situation

So I kind of neglected to mention that we've been monitoring Lily's kidneys since she was in utero. This actually came as a result of the ultrasound I had back when I panicked over not feeling any fetal movement (see Kick Me). It turned out she was fine, but the ultrasound did show that one of her kidneys was just a little bit larger than the other. The doctor said not to worry (of course I did) and that they would do another ultrasound in a couple weeks to see if it was still enlarged. It was, so then we had to go to a specialist at Brigham and Women's. They said usually these things resolve themselves by the time of birth, and we'd do another ultrasound when she was born to make sure. Well, it was still enlarged at birth, so then we had to go and have a catheter put in to drain her bladder, inject a dye, and then see where it went. The concern was that her urine was refluxing back up into her kidney, which could result in chronic kidney infections. She was so good for the procedure, and fortunately that test turned out normal, which means that she'll just keep getting ultrasounds every six months to monitor it.

I mention it only because it was a pretty significant thing during my pregnancy that I only told a few people about because, as per my logic here, the more people you tell the more of a big deal it becomes and the more you worry. In hindsight I do wish I had shared our concerns, because it turns out it's pretty common and not that big of a deal. Maybe we would have spent less time worrying that it was the result of something much more sinister going on in her little body, or that she would die hours after being born, or that it was because I ate uncooked lunch meat.

The Big Sister

Last but not least, it's worth mentioning how wonderful Corinne has been about being a big sister. She really seems to like Lily, even when she's fussy and when I have to put Corinne temporarily on the back burner to deal with Lily's more pressing (or at least harder to ignore) needs. We've put a lot of focus on the things Corinne can do that Lily can't do and the differences between being a big girl and being a baby, so I think that makes her feel important. I also think she sees Lily as more like a pet or a new toy than as another kid. Surprisingly we have not (yet!) seen any jealousy or resentment at having to share our attention and affection. Once again when we expect the worst with Corinne she surprises us. She's also been very helpful, handing me things that I can't reach when I'm feeding Lily or pumping, and giving Lily her Boobah or holding the bottle for her. She likes to be my "Great Big Helper Girl". Last night during book time she even suddenly looked at Lily, who was practicing standing next to her in the bed, and said with such feeling "Oh, she's so cute. I love her". It was unbelievably sweet.

So that's been our lives the past 10 weeks or so. We're all adjusting and settling into a routine and enjoying being a family of four. It's all good!

Pictures That Crack Me Up

2009-04-28T20:28:00.011-04:00

This series of pictures makes me laugh every time I look at them, so I thought I'd share.

The Family Photo

I love this one because it is reminiscent of a certain Blondin Family portrait circa 1980 or so. Erin was around Corinne's age and I was 9 or 10. Erin was being awful, crying and carrying on because she wanted the stuffed animal that the guy was using to try to make her smile. My parents were getting progressively more annoyed looking, which was clearly seen in the proofs. The final photo, the one my parents ended up going with because it was actually the best in the bunch, shows my dear sister with finger in the air about to pick her nose. Classic. In our version of this you can see that Pete is pushing an irritable Corinne off his lap, having told her to just go away. It took us literally around 40 attempts to get the one that we sent out in Lillian's birth announcement. But look: we're wearing our home-made shirts.

The Aftermath

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My mother said she'd kill me if I posted this picture but really, how could I resist?!
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It Would Have Been a Nice Picture...

Do you know how hard it is to get four kids between the ages of 1 month and 4 years posed with no one crying, all eyes on the cameras, and get the two dads quickly into the shot before the timer runs out, only to have the dog get all worked up from all the excitement and jump up at just the wrong moment?

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No comment needed...

Ba Bye, Boobah

2009-03-27T15:25:00.002-04:00

Corinne has always been a big pacifier girl. In the early months Boobah, as we called it, was a lifesaver to us. When she was crying and looking for the comfort that comes from sucking we'd just "stick a plug in it" and she'd be content. Sure there were nuisances with it, like when she'd spit it out in the car and you'd have to drive with one hand, eyes on the road, while crawling your other hand around behind you trying to first locate it and then locate her screaming mouth to plop it back into. Or when it dropped onto a dirty floor at a public place and was the only one you had. Or when she couldn't find it or, in the early weeks, couldn't coordinate her flailing little infant hands to pick it up, and there would be multiple late-night trips into her room give it back to her (S@L use to leave a half dozen or more of them in Zoe's crib so she could always find one). But overall we felt that her ability to soothe herself made it all worthwhile. We worked around the inconveniences by having many Boobah's around, attached to things like her car seat, coat, sling and toys with little cords, and that worked for us.

Then Corinne turned one, the age that we had arbitrarily set as the time to wean off of Boobah, and it became clear that getting rid of Boobah would be no easy task. She loved Boobah, needed Boobah, and frankly it was easier to just let her keep it, especially once we got her PDD-NOS diagnosis. Eventually we got her down to just using it to sleep, and that was OK for awhile. Then she turned two. And then three. The love/hate relationship we had with Boobah began to go south, and we just wanted it gone. Pete, in particular, was frustrated with playing second fiddle to a piece of plastic. There was much discussion about how we could go about ridding ourselves of this unwanted accessory. Pretend to give it to Santa? Sew it into a stuffed animal, so she'd have it but not suck it? Haveher give it to Lily when she was born? Or just go cold turkey and ride out the storm that would surley ensue? We knew that what it would boil down to was a number of sleepless nights of screaming and Boobah withdrawl, and we just couldn't bring ourselves to do it. Not out of pity for Corinne, but for ourselves. There was nver a time when we felt like subjecting ourselves to this and there was always some other factor that was more pressing: potty training, school starting, a new baby coming, etc.

So imagine our surprise and delight when, last Sunday morning, she informed Pete upon awakening that she had lost Boobah during the night but that was OK because she was a big girl and didn't need him. In the past, as recently as a couple months ago, I would be jarred awake at least once a week with the refrain of "I can't find Boobah", repeated over and over until I wearily dragged myself into her room and relocated the damn thing, usually tangled in her sheets but sometimes under her bed (try crawling around under a bed when you're pregnant). For some reason this time she decided that she could live without him, at least for the night. I think it helped that Pete had been having a lot of discussions with her at bedtime about what a big girl and big sister she is, and all the differences between her and Lily there were, and how Boobah was really the only baby characteristic she still retained. She has been very pleased with being a big girl, and doing things "all by myself", and I think the wheels had been turning in her little head regarding this one last hurdle. Pete spotted Boobah on the floor and quickly stowed him away when she wasn't looking, seizing this once in a lifetime opportunity. He was prepared to have as many sleepless nights as it took.

That night Corinne asked about Boobah and we just kind of brushed it off dismissively, and shockingly she let the issue drop without much protest. I told her that if she could go a whole week without Boobah, I would take her to a toy store and buy her anything she wanted. Every night and at every nap she would ask if we couldlook for Boobah, until I finally told her that the Boobah Fairy must have come and taken Boobah to give to a poor baby whose parents didn't have any money to buy it a Boobah, and how nice it was of her to share her Boobah with a baby that really needed it. Oddly, she has not coveted her own sister's Boobah even once (yes, we opted to introduce Lily to the pacifier as well. Call us glutton's for punishment, but I still maintain that it is worth it for that self-soothing, instant suck satisfaction that it provides. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. When she turns one.)

I won't say Corinne wasn't upset about the loss of this most important of all lovey items (even more so than the beloved Shamu). Just about every night that week she had a meltdown of sorts within a half hour of lights out. Each time it was for a random reason: the cover came off her night light, she wanted her plastic bowl that she liked to fill with toys, Dadda forgot to bring her a drink, or the worst one, when she couldn't find her beloved Zoot (I'm sure that to her it was like, oh no, the last thing I couldn't find I never saw again. Will all my favorite things be disappearing one by one?) It didn't take a therapist to realize that Boobah was the underlying cause of these seemingly petty melodramas. But she made it a week and we made a whole afternoon of going to pick out a special present. I took her to Toys-R-Us, but nothing there seemed like the right reward for this huge victory and sacrifice in her part (plus she was picking out things like easter basket grass and marshmallow peeps as her reward, not to mention a smaller version of Shamu, of which she already has at least three). Instead we went t o Build-A-Bear and she chose a turtle with a removable shell/ backpack. We stuffed it and gave it a beating heart and picked out an outfit, and the whole thing had exactly the ceremonial pomp and circumstance that I had been hoping for. And we named it Boobah, so now when she asks for Boobah, it's the turtle that she gets. I ended up spending $50 on the whole thing, which is ridiculous for a stuffed animal, but Pete and I agreed that it was money well spent to be rid of our nemesis once and for all. I would have bought her a pony if she'd asked for one, just to have this chapter of our lives closed once and for all.

So there you have it, another Corinne victory, and a pretty impressive one, given that it came on the heels of what we thought would be the most traumatic eventof her little life: the birth of her baby sister. Once again, in true Corinne fashion, it's when we expect the worst that we end up pleasantly surprised (and when we least expect it that we get blindsided).

Corinne's First Crush

2009-03-24T16:28:00.006-04:00

Corinne has developed what can only be described as a crush, on this guy:

He is Zoot, the saxophone player from the Electric Mayhem, the band from the Muppet Show. I mean seriously, how random is that? She is completely smitten with him, for reasons known only to her. She wants to watch our Muppet Show DVD's all the time and every time he is featured (which is hardly ever, and only for the briefest of glimpses) she gets all excited and yells with glee "there's my favorite guy!". She is also thrilled whenever she sees a saxophone in any context, and tells me "that's the ins-ment my guy plays!". The odd thing is that, for whatever reason, she refuses to say his name. She refers to him as "my guy", and if you ask what his name is she gets this funny smile and claims she can't remember. This from the girl who remembers that the cheap blue plastic sippy cup that she found in the back of one of our kitchen cabinets came from "the place where she got her painting shirt", which refers to her blue Minute Man T-shirt, which came from the Minute Man MARCh, which is indeed where she got the cup and was also a year ago! What I'm getting at is the chick doesn't forget much, so I'm not buying that she can't remember Zoot's name, which I have told her about a hundred times.

The other thing she thinks is hilarious is that Zoot doesn't seem to talk. He just plays his sax. So her favorite joke is she'll say something like "do you know what my guy said when I was crying last night? Nothing!!"

I searched high and low for a Zoot anything to give her as a present to soften the blow when Lily was born, but alas the Muppet Show has become "vintage", and obscure characters like Zoot are impossible to find, if they ever existed at all. A tiny plastic figure of him sells for, like, $100 on E-Bay.

Then my friend Meghan (of the candy sushi fame) surprised her (both of us, actually) with a hand-knitted Zoot. It's hilarious and very well crafted. Here he is:

Now she calls him "my guy that Emma's Mommy made me".

I just had to post about this because it gives a nice little insight into the unique, fascinating little person that Corinne is. And to think there was a time I wished she was "normal".

She's Here: Lily's Birth Story

2009-03-21T11:15:00.005-04:00

OK, it's just a wee bit overdue, Lily being a month old now, but better late than never. If having a three year old, a newborn, and no working computer isn't excuse enough, I don't know what is.
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Welcome to the world, Miss Lillian Margaret.

Lily officially made her entrance on Sunday night, February 22nd, at 11:46 pm. She was seven pounds, four ounces (not the mega-baby that the ultrasounds had her pegged to be) and 19 3/4 inches long. You may have noticed that she came about 12 hours early, since I had an ultrasound scheduled for noon on Monday. On Sunday we were just chilling out around the house. The plan was for Pete and I to drop Corinne off at school on Monday morning, as per our usual routine, and then we'd head off to the hospital from there. Well, as my father always says, if you want to make God laugh, make a plan. First off, there was a snowstorm forecast for Sunday night and they were calling for a foot of snow, so we had grandpa on stand-by for Monday morning, in case Corinne's school got cancelled.

For much of the day on Sunday I felt kind of crampy. At first I just figured it was because I was drinking a ton of water, and the baby was just kicking my full bladder. As the day progressed, though, I began to notice that the discomfort was coming at even intervals. I mentioned to Pete that he might want to call his dad and make sure he slept with the phone that night, just in case. I consulted the pregnancy bible, "What to Expect When You're Expecting", and confirmed that true labor contractions will get gradually more painful and closer together. Mine weren't even really painful, just uncomfortable. But I decided after our dinner of hot dogs and beans that maybe I should start fasting for surgery sooner rather than later (I was supposed to start at midnight).

We put Corinne to bed and sat down to watch a movie ("Good Luck Chuck"). I got myself a piece of paper and started writing down what time the contractions were starting and how long they lasted. Turns out they were every five minutes, like clockwork, and were lasting 30 to 45 seconds. I decided that maybe it was time to call my OB, just to see what they wanted me to do. I was somewhat alarmed when the on-call OB (who wasn't even one of the ones in the practice. What's up with that?) told me to come in now. Yikes! I told her it would be at least 45 minutes, given that by now it had started snowing/ raining and Pete's dad lives several towns away and all. Suddenly there were a million things to do- last minute packing, showering, telling Corinne we were leaving, etc. It felt like it took Pete's dad and brother 4 hours to get to our house and then we were off to the hospital. It felt kind of surreal. We had just been talking about how nice it would be to go to the hospital in the morning after a good night sleep, and have the baby in a much more leisurely fashion, compared to the highly stressful 30-something hours of labor and "urgent" C-section with Corinne. And now here we were heading to the hospital at 10pm. So much for best laid plans.

We got to the hospital uneventfully enough, even with the slush and snow and freezing rain. The nurses got me hooked up to a monitor and started tag teaming us with admin paperwork. The OB came in and said that we'd be doing the C-section that night, around 11:30. I was surprised, thinking that they'd just hold off until the next morning since my contractions weren't bad. I guess they didn't want me to start laboring too hard (which was fine by me). The next hour or so flew by in a blur. Once again we had a couple "decels", which is when the baby's heart rate drops. It was frighteningly reminiscent of Corinne, except even scarier this time because we feel that this may have contributed to Corinne's PDD. At least this time there was no waiting around- we were in the OR within just a few minutes. I was more aware of things this time (having not just labored for 30 something hours prior). I definitely felt the tugs and pushing and heard a lot of sucking and horrifying noises (Pete likes to speak of how they have a person on each side of the incision pulling it wide open while someone else literally pulls out the entire uterus and sets it down outside my body cavity) Having watched a lot of ER as of late, I was acutely aware of all of this, fearing that at any moment I would "crash", or throw up the hot dogs and beans I had eaten only four hours before. But all went well, and out she came crying heartily right from the start. She did have some meconium (translation: baby poop) in her lungs that needed to be suctioned out, but her Apgar score went quickly from 6 to 9, which was a relief. I got to look at her, but couldn't hold her (my guts being all wide open and all). I teared up a little, but was surprised that once again I didn't cry (considering I cry uncontrollably watching other people deliver their babies on episodes of a Baby Story). She had a head full of fairly dark hair, just like I had been so surprised to see on her sister when she was born (it eventually fell out and came back in blond, which made a lot more sense, at least in the realm of Punnett Squares and Mendelian genetics).

After that Pete went with her to the nursery for cleaning up while I had my tubes tied (hey, while you're in there...) and got stitched back up, which seemed like it took forever. I was shaking like crazy and I hate that feeling of not being able to move my legs; It makes me claustrophobic. I went back to recovery after that and from there it's a bit hazy, which I now know is from the delightful drugs they give you.

Corinne came to visit with Grandpa and Uncle Jim the next afternoon and we were thrilled with how well she did with the invasion of this new person into her life. I think the months of preparation made all the difference, all the counting down and book making/ reading and discussions at home and school. Not only was she not upset, she was quite interested in her new baby sister and even touched her (this is the child who, for the past nine months out of the clear blue sky, would suddenly say adamantly: "I do not want to hold the baby.") She gave her the ultimate compliment, normally reserved only for Shamu, her best stuffed animal: "She's so cute!" I think she sees her as more like a pet or a new toy than another kid and potential competition for her parents' attention and affection. We'll see how long that lasts.

I stayed in the hospital until Thursday, at which point I was dying to get home. Pete stayed with me the first two nights. After that he'd head out to pick up Corinne from school at 2:30, bring her back to the hospital until bedtime and then stay at home with her for the night, returning the following morning. I missed him and Corinne and found it hard to get by at night by myself because of the surgery (things like getting comfortable to nurse, getting up to put the baby back in the bassinet, etc. are easier with help). Plus the nurses kept bringing Lily back into the room with me at night because she wouldn't settle down in the nursery. What's the point of staying in the hospital if you can't get that much needed break from the baby at night that everyone recommends so highly? I think Lily just didn't want to be away from her momma, because she would nurse for about 2 minutes and then promptly fall asleep. She's definitely a little love.

So there you have it, finally. A nice, uneventful birth story. This is a time when high drama or a good story are not what you want. I'll post pictures when we finally get our computer back up (I'm using Pete's work computer for this) and I will post again soon (maybe even today, but I make no promises!) with the happenings of our first month with Lily, which has also been nicely uneventful for the most part.

* Note: I asked Pete to look this over prior to publishing to make sure I didn't leave out any important details. He read it and said, "It looks good to me. You mentioned the hot dogs." That's my husband, folks.

Lazy Playzie Week

2009-02-22T04:53:00.000-05:00

This week was Corinne's February vacation from school. The timing worked out really well, because it gave me a chance to spend some good, quality time with the Princess before Apple comes. I actually scheduled the C-section with that in mind, and Apple was kind enough to stay put and not come early (despite the fact that ultrasounds show that she is going to be a big baby, and she is kicking in there like she's trying to break her way out).

We tried to have a good mix of stuff to do as well as leisurely time spent just coloring and doing our own thing, what Corinne refers to as a Lazy Playzie day. This is actually her first choice when asked what she wants to do. She's a real Home Body, just like Momma.

Monday we went to Open Gym, something my friend Meghan organized for these long, cooped up winter days. It's basically just a chance for the kids to run around at the Boys and Girls Club and work off some energy. Corinne really likes it. She likes to play chase with other kids and could do this all day. When she runs out of kids who want to play she just chases herself. She'll also chase a ball if I throw it, much like Seven. It's a great way for me to get her tired out with minimal effort on the part of my lazy, pregnant self.

Tuesday Pete took the day off and we took Corinne to the Boston Children's Museum. I rather foolishly thought it might not be too crowded if we got there at opening, but alas, there is no good time to go to a children's exhibit during a school vacation week. With our library pass it was only $2 a person, so either way we won. And Corinne really liked it. Her favorite thing by far was this crazy, 3 story tall climbing structure. It's hard to describe, but it was kind of like a 3_D maze, or hamster habitrail of platforms enclosed in wire so the kids can't fall out. Problem is, they also can't get out, and parents can't get to them, except at the very bottom and one door near the top. It was also jam-packed with kids of all aged, climbing in every direction. I thought it was going to be a recipe for disaster for our cautious little trouper who has trouble with motor planning, but not so. She was hell-bent on climbing to the top of the thing in her slow and steady wins the race way, a look of determination on her serious little face the whole time. She didn't make it all the way up, but she did get about a third of the way up by herself and spent close to an hour in there before deciding to come back down.

The second time she went in,unfortunately, we experienced the law of diminishing returns. She only made it up about 2 tiers and then got stuck. She couldn't quite get up onto the next platform, and a bottle neck of kids began to build above and below her. Kids began just climbing around and over her (future little Mass-holes in the making) and from my vantage point I could see that she was getting ready to cry. It seemed like this went on forever and it was hard for me to watch my little sweetie getting upset and not be able to reach her to help her. My momma bear instincts made me want to open up a can of whoop-ass on some of the kids, who were much bigger and older than her. Finally Pete climbed in as far as he could reach and dragged her back out. On the bright side she recovered very quickly and I think she'd still do it again if given the chance.

Wednesday was just running errands and shopping for Dadda's birthday next week, which actually ended up being a nice day. Corinne was having a very "on" day and was just very articulate and sweet and agreeable. Thursday we drove into Boston to have lunch with Dadda, which was a nice break for him and Friday we had our last playgroup for a few weeks.

Saturday was House Cleaning Day (well, I had Pete take Corinne for the day so I could clean). Then Grandpa and Uncle Jim came to babysit while Pete and I went out for a last Hurrah and to celebrate his birthday. We saw "Coraline" (every time we get a night away from Corinne we end up going to see a children's movie for some reason) and had dinner at a really good English Pub (Pete is a very cheap date- that's all he ever wants for his birthday is to go drink beer). Then we got Cheesecake Factory to take home for dessert. It was a really good evening. It's nice to go on a date every now and again.

And now here we are. It's a Lazy Playzie Sunday. We had doughnuts for breakfast and will probably stay in our jammies all day and just enjoy our last day as a family of three. Life's pretty good.

More Projects

2009-02-13T04:41:00.000-05:00

A couple more projects I finished up:

Free plug for a good customer. Sign is 6 feet long, hand-lettered. Now I know why sign makers charge so much money.

Finally got around to painting Corinne's "Helping Chair"

My Senior Year of High School

2009-02-10T12:00:00.002-05:00

Here's one that's going around on Facebook. Thought it was definitely worth posting on the blog as well, given the highly Loserish content and all.

1. Did you date someone from your school?
Well, yes and no. He would have been from my school had he not dropped out!

2. Did you marry someone from your high school?
Good God, no!

3. Did you car pool to school?
Yes, with Debbie and Jennifer in Deb's car, Marvin. Jennifer was always late and would come out of her house with hot curling iron and toast in hand. In the parking lot we would sit in the car and listen to music and then inevitably lock the keys in the car and had to use a ruler from the art room to break into it. Then Debbie would always miss the turn to my house on the way home because she was zoning out, and I'd get so annoyed with her.

4. What kind of car did you have?
A black Cougar named "Freddy's Cougar", since technically my dad owned it.

5. What kind of car do you have now?
A Subaru Forester and a freaking Toyota minivan!

6. It's Friday night...where are you? (Then)
Probably with said boyfriend. I was one of those annoying chicks who neglected her girl friends once she got a boyfriend.

7. It's Friday night...where are you? (Now)
Probably on the couch

8. What kind of job did you have in high school?
I worked in "Dietary" at the hospital, delivering food trays to patients, working the dinner assembly line and dishwash area. It was actually a lot of fun; all young kids screwing around. I don't know how our supervisor could stand it! I also parked cars in our yard for the Race Track.

9. What kind of job do you do now?
Stay at Home Mom and mural painter.

10. Were you a party animal?
I wish. Let's put it this way: I still have coloring books with pages colored in by me, dated 1989. Oh yeah, baby! I never drank until after highschool and didn't try any illicit substances until after college. My parents had it so easy!

11. Were you considered a flirt?
A flirt, no. Obsessed with boys, very much so. But too insecure to do anything more than walk past their lockers 10 times a day and stare at them in the lunch room.

12. Were you in the band, orchestra, or choir?
Nope- no such talents.

13. Were you a nerd?
Hmm, more of a dork. Nerd would imply that I studied a lot.

14. Did you get suspended or expelled?
I like Allison's answer: " I wouldn’t be alive today if I had been"

15. Can you sing the fight song?
I don't know if we even had one.

16. Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)?
I can't think of one. How sad. Mr Baker was kind of hot.

17. Where did you sit during lunch?
I don't remember. I think I blocked that all out.

18. When did you graduate?
1989

19. What was your school mascot?
The Blue Streaks- whatever the hell that is.

20. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
No way!!!! I didn't "find myself" until college. In high school I was awkward, insecure, shy, immature and very sheltered. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. Not that I'm cool now, mind you...

21. Did you have fun at Prom?
I guess so. I was glad to be able to go, with a boy, and fulfill all my Judy Blume fantasy's (senior year was the first year I had a boyfriend). Oh, and I lost my virginity afterwards (sorry mom and dad!)

22. Do you still talk to the person you went to Prom with?
No, but my family still sees him on occasion, wandering the streets of my hometown. (Would you believe that he was the one who dumped me, during finals week my freshman year of college?!!)

23. Are you planning on going to your next reunion?
Yes

24. Do you still talk to people from school?
Just Debbie, and now Sandy on Facebook. Lost touch with everyone else (all 4 or 5 of them that I was friends with).

2 Weeks Left

2009-02-09T10:08:00.003-05:00

But then, who's counting?

Corny, But Cute

2009-02-08T10:14:00.003-05:00

Corinne got the idea from an episode of "A Baby Story"* to paint T-shirts for herself and Apple, which I thought was a really cute idea. We decided to make one for each of us, which makes Pete and I pretty gay (in the corny sense, not the homosexual sense) and just oh so wholesome, but it was fun and it will make a cute picture when the baby comes. Here's a preview:

(gotta love our matching "painting shirts")

(finished product)

* Inappropriate viewing for a 3 year old, perhaps, but she's fascinated with it. I try to limit it to just the C-section episodes, where there's not a lot of screaming on the part of the mom. I think it puts the whole "Momma's having a baby" into some kind of a manageable perspective for her.

Pre-School Winter Party

2009-01-30T09:17:00.007-05:00

Corinne had her preschool Winter Party today, which Papa got to come to with us. They are learning about the planets and space right now, which I think is a pretty impressive curriculum for preschool. Corinne even knows about things like Saturn's rings, Jupiter's red spot, and the "planet with a million moons" (I'm not even sure which one that is). Anyway, here is a song that they all sang for us during circle time. She is doing so much better with following along with what the rest of the class is doing (sorry for the focusing problems. I don't know what my camera was doing).

Just squinking out with the planets.

Inside the space ship

Even better: Inside the spaceship with 2 friends, and totally OK with it!

Potty Time

2009-01-20T09:26:00.001-05:00

We have started really working on potty training with Miss Corinne. She had been extremely resistant to the idea all year, and there never seemed like a good time with school starting and so many changes in her routine. She just didn't seem ready, sometimes actually preferring to stay in her poopoo diaper and getting extremely agitated when the potty was mentioned. Also previous attempts on our part had been a little bit on the half-assed side (like putting her in underpants and then forgetting to remind her to use the potty for, oh, several hours). But faced with the prospect of having two kids in diapers in another month, we decided it was time to get serious. While there are definite advantages to not having to worry about your kid's bodily functions when out and about, it was just getting too expensive, and she's already in the largest size of Pampers.

So for Christmas Corinne got a special timer that you can set for any amount of time. It looks like the kind they use for presidential debates, where it goes from green to yellow to red (works great for Time Outs and to curb stalling tactics, as well. I highly recommend it). We set it for twenty minute intervals and whenever it went off we asked her if she needed to use the potty. At first we gave her candy just for sitting on the potty, so strong was her aversion to it. Then she just got candy for going. Being the smart cookie that she is, she quickly figured out that she could do one teaspoon of peepee every ten minutes or so and spend the day in a sugar induced Utopia, so we created the Potty Chart. Every peepee equals a sticker and three stickers earn her candy. Poopoo gets you automatic candy. (Note my delightful poopoo drawings on the right hand side of the chart)We've had a lot of luck with this system in the peepee department. She has started holding it for long periods of time and will ask to use the potty even if she is wearing a pull-up. We've only done one poopoo in the potty, which was so huge in size and accomplishment that I almost took a picture of it (it was easily as big as our TV remote), but decided that that was really too much information for most people (as if this blog post isn't TMI already). She tends to poopoo at night, and we can't seem to convince her to wake us up when she has to go. She has had only had one accident, and that was because she got up from the potty mid-pee to see what was happening on the television (yes, our potty is in our living room. What of it? You're just jealous) We've filled up one chart already, and I'm thinking when I make the next one that four peepees will equal candy, and then five, until we wean her off of the candy altogether. I'm sure we will have some regression when Apple comes, but at least we're barely using diapers at this point and for the next month I will enjoy it immensely. Next up: weaning off of the beloved Boobah (pacifier).

(Like father, like daughter.)

Mmmm, sushi

2009-01-17T15:29:00.004-05:00

One of my playgroup mom-friends, Meghan, gave me one of world's most thoughtful gifts: sushi, only it's made out of chocolate and frosting and swedish fish, a LoserInc-favorite trifecta. This is a pregnant woman's dream, and as good as the real deal, just in a desserty sort of way.

This is just a sampling. The rice is rice-crispy treats. There's some peanut butter in there, too.

PS- This makes up for the fact that a certain Loser-Family dog, who shall remain nameless, ate an entire pound of homemade chocolates off the coffee table some time between 6 and 7:30 am on Wednesday morning. The entire day Thursday was spent vomiting up foil wrappers and pooping out what looked (but didn't smell like) chocolate fondue. This is classic "older sibling acting out for attention" behavior.

Thanks a Lot, Auntie E

2009-01-08T16:04:00.002-05:00

A Whole Lotta Catching Up to Do

2009-01-05T20:26:00.000-05:00

So today I had all these plans to go to Home Depot and Babies R Us and other assorted errands. But then I slept like crap last night and woke up to slippery roads and icy walkways and said, you know what, the hell with this. I made the executive decision to take the whole day off and be completely unproductive. It's Corinne's and Pete's first day back to school/work after the vacation, and while I hardly worked hard during the vacation, we were busy and fairly productive and damn it, I'm pregnant and if I need a day to just lay around, I'm entitled! I honestly don't remember the last day that I had no plans, no places to go, no cookies to bake, no room to paint, no shopping and gift wrapping, no decorating, no toddler entertaining, no cleaning, just a whole day to myself to just waste and not feel guilty like the baby might come tomorrow and then I'll really pay. So here I am. I dropped Corinne off at school, came home and enjoyed a leisurely bagel, then promptly slept on the couch for two hours. Now I'm up and feeling much better and decided that I was long overdue to update the blog. I was going to enter the posts separately and back date them, like they've been written all along and just awaiting a final edit before publishing, but who are we kidding? So here is a summary of the highlights of the past month, all in one lazy, rainy day, half-assed post.

On Pregnancy
I am now in the throes of being "very pregnant". I am 32 weeks pregnant (I think. I can't get over how much less obsessed I am with this pregnancy, to the point where I have actually lost track of what week I'm in, and had to go to the calendar and count backward from my due date. Second child syndrome already. Sorry Apple, I'll make it up to you. I promise to at least take a lot of pictures of you, and your mural is better than your sister's) I am large and bloated and tired. I am not sleeping well at all for any combination of the following reasons on any given night: 1) heartburn- the worst I've ever had. Like, I thought I might be having a heart attack the other night. I had the burning in the throat and occasional burping throw-up into my mouth with Corinne, but this is lower in my chest and not as quickly relieved with Tums. 2) Back pain- something about having a bowling ball in your belly puts a lot of strain on your back when you lay down at night, and "The Wedge", the beloved, passed around from expectant mom to expectant mom triangular pillow just ain't doing the trick this time around. I now sleep with a pillow between my legs, the wedge under my belly, and now sometimes a pillow behind my back. Laying on my back is sometimes more comfortable than my side but as soon as I have two teaspoons of pee in my bladder or any gas in my intestines or any food in my stomach, that doesn't work either. 3) Whistle nose- I HATE when I can hear myself breath. That is why I need the white noise machine at night. Pregnancy is somehow responsible for all one's mucous membranes to soften up, including one's nose. This means snoring that Pete has equated with a chainsaw and that I often wake myself up from. And when I'm already awake due to the above mentioned reasons, my nose is all whistley and stuffy and just really annoying. Here is the pattern that has developed: I fall asleep on the couch around 9 from the shear exhaustion of not sleeping and doing such strenuous things as climbing one set of stairs or getting up from the couch. I can usually fall asleep once in bed (see update on our wonderful new bed below) but I wake up in an hour or two with a back ache. I decide to get up and pee to relieve as much abdominal pressure as possible. In the bathroom I realize my throat is so dry from snoring and I drink more water. Upon returning to bed I spend the next 15 minutes snorting, blowing and sniffing to clear the whistles out of my nose. Ten minutes after settling in, my back hurts again and I begin the turning-over process of shifting pillows and my own large self. Now my nose drains to that side and begins to whistle again. At that point I usually fall asleep, only to wake up almost exactly a half hour later to repeat the whole thing again. Sometimes I end up wide awake, my thoughts jumping here there and everywhere, in which case I have just been getting up and going downstairs to lay on the couch where at least I have back support behind me and where I can let late night episodes of Leave It to Beaver and the Twilight Zone drown out my nose whistle.

Ode to Our New Bed
I cannot begin to say how much we love our new bed. Prior to this Pete and I, two adults of 6 feet in length and 5 feet, ten inches respectively, shared a full sized bed. And a cheap one, at that. One with a creaky box spring that alerted the whole neighborhood whenever one of us rolled over, and with a mattress that sheets would just not stay on. By morning one whole side of the fitted sheet and mattress pad would be off and bunched up underneath us. I grew to hate this bed and finally convinced Pete that it was likely the root cause of his persistent, medication- resistant insomnia. When one of us was awake and tossing and turning, we both were. And with my pregnancy, that was becoming an every night, most of the night thing. There were a couple nights around 2 am where we practically did rock-scissors-paper over who got to go sleep on the couch.

We decided that for Christmas we would forgo presents to each other and have our parents give us money instead of gifts and put it all toward a new bed. And so we did, and it was one of the best decisions we've made to date. One we're wishing we had made years ago. We went and picked out a king sized bed (in fact, a whole new matching bedroom set, because we're adults with a house and one kid and another on the way and we were still using a hand-me-down bureau and the dresser that I got when I was, I kid you not, five years old from Montgomery Wards. And also the giant bed takes up most of our not-so-big bedroom, so we had to furnish the rest of the room with that in mind.) We got ourselves "sleep tested" and fitted with a fancy mattress and had the whole shebang delivered to our house the week before Christmas. It was effortless, too. We were worried the king size mattress wouldn't fit up our stairs but the movers were pros and got that thing in there in under ten minutes. I got a chance to clean the hell out of our bedroom (with its 6 years of cat and dog hair) just in time for holiday houseguests. Corinne inherited our old bed in place of her toddler bed, which will now serve as our guest bed when needed, and voila, a happy family. I equated our first night in the new bed to be on par with my wedding day and the birth of Corinne. It was that good. It doesn't creak or shake, the sheets stay on, the blankets don't end up all on one side or on the floor and I can go the whole night without ever touching Pete at all, if I so choose. Pete has slept through the night every night since, as I'm sure I will too, once this baby is out of my belly.

Look how big!! (Not sure if that's dust floating around, or spiritual orbs. And yes, now we need new lamps.)

Ode to Freecycle
On the topic of our new bedroom, I just have to give a shout out to Freecycle. If you haven't heard of it, do check it out. I think they're all over the country. For dumpster divers like Pete and myself, it is the best thing since sliced bread. I get daily emails with listings of stuff that people in our area are giving away for free. There's some good stuff, too. My friend has acquired not one but three of those little plastic outdoor playhouses that normally sell for $100 on up (I'm currently waiting on a response about a new-in-box breast pump). There's also some crappy stuff, which I have noticed tends to get snatched up right away. Anyway, I posted the above mentioned 30 year old Montgomery Wards dresser, mirror and night table and immediately got 3 responses. The people who ended up with it came the very same day, helped Pete carry it all downstairs, and told me that their daughter will get another 30 years use out of it. I was happy to see it go to a good home and not a landfill, plus it would have cost us about $20 to have the garbage truck pick it all up. I got rid of our headboard and an old bike the same way. I've had less luck with our old dishwasher, lawn mower and air conditioners, but I'll keep trying.

Ding Dong, the Room is Done

At last, Apple's room is finished. The mural is complete (took about 6 weeks, off and on), the closet is finished, the rug is in, the crib had been assembled. If Apple were to come tomorrow, which I really hope she doesn't , at least we're ready. Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh. 'Nuff said.(just a reminder of the closet, before)

What I Did for My Christmas Vacation

It seems like Christmas was so long ago, such was the whirlwind of our vacation week.

Corinne was so into Christmas this year. She really gets it now. And as a huge fan of the holiday myself, I was happy to indulge her with all the traditions: excessive decorating; ad nauseum shows, movies, books and music; cookie baking; gingerbread house decorating; card sending; present wrapping; advent calendar opening, etc. We made a total of I think eight different cookie recipes, for a total of about 32 dozen cookies, half of which were given away as Christmas gifts to various people, mailmen and teachers and half which were consumed in the days following Christmas (thank God I tested negative for gestational diabetes!) This year Corinne was totally into Herme, the elf from Rudolph who wants to be a dentist. She really digs him for some reason. She has a little stuffed animal of him and he had to stay out once the decorations were packed away. It reminded me of when my sister cried about packing up our plastic light up Frosty when she was five or so (sorry Erin!) I understand, though. It's kind of sad when it's all over. So much build up for one day. Then again, I'm always relieved when it's over, too, and I love having my house back to normal.

Anyway, My family all arrived on Tuesday the 23rd and stayed through Friday the 26th. On Christmas eve we hosted the annual Swedish Smorgasbord for 19 people. This was our third year running the show and Pete and I are starting to get it down pat (except we had a communication breakdown and ended up with no ricegreinsgurt. Sorry Sue!) Corinne did much better opening gifts on Christmas morning this year (it's been too overwhelming for her in the past) and she got lots of great stuff (and not too many presents this year- good job Mimmie and Papa). We got a new Blue Ray DVD player from Auntie Vic, which was great since our DVD player had broken and we were using a little portable car model that only plays at full volume.

The rest of the vacation week we kept ourselves busy. On Tuesday Pete had to go into work, so Corinne and I went to a short ballet demo at our library. Corinne was really good for it, sitting quietly and watching intently. At the end they took questions from the kids. Most asked things like "does it hurt to stand on your toes", or "I like to dress like a ballerina". Corinne surprised me by raising her hand. I asked her what her question was and she said "I like whales because they're so cute!" Hmm, maybe that was her own interpretation of the dancing. Who knows what goes on in that head.

On Wednesday we took the train into Boston to the aquarium and had a good time. We were there for four hours, which is a record for us. Corinne really liked the penguins; I think she could have watched them all day.

New Years Eve Pete and I did the usual- sushi (only cooked ones this year, though. Another pregnancy sacrifice) and Twilight Zones. We were both passed out by 10pm. New Years Day down came all the Christmas stuff, also a tradition. I love Christmas, but once it's over I want it all gone.

On Friday we went to the Ecotarium in Worcester (we had tried to go there on Monday, only to find that it was closed). It was a nice place- we hadn't been there before. It's part zoo, part science museum, part children's museum, and even a little train, which we rode in the freezing cold. Again, Corinne really liked it and we were there most of the day. I think next up will be the children's museum in Boston. We'd been waiting to make sure that Corinne could handle it and it seems like she's ready.

The weekend we spent hanging around and getting some stuff done around the house. Pete organized the basement and took Corinne sledding. It was a productive yet relaxing weekend of quality family time. I love when Pete doesn't have to work.

So that's the last month in a nutshell and now I'm all caught up and can go and chillax again :)

Oh Christmas Tree

2008-12-09T16:37:00.007-05:00

Why I Love This Little Town of Mine

2008-12-07T16:35:00.002-05:00

Because every year, just prior to our little rinky-dink town Christmas parade, Santa flies over downtown in a red helicopter. He flies pretty low, too, and waves to all the delighted kids. I just hope the helicopter never crashes.

My Budding Artist

2008-12-01T16:48:00.002-05:00

Corinne has discovered drawing. She had been fond of scribbling, but now she's starting to actually make things that kind of look like things. She even gets frustrated when the thing doesn't come out the way she has pictured it in her mind. Ah, my little protege. As her mom and biggest fan, I think her work is pretty impressive for her age and given her fine-motor limitations. Even better are the stories that she makes up to go along with the sketches. This one is called "Baby in her Bedroom with Turkeys". Unfortunately she created this masterpiece on her magnadoodle, and erased the finished product before I got a chance to take a photo of it, but here is the star of the story:

According to Corinne, this baby was asleep in her bedroom (she went on to draw the bed) but couldn't sleep because of all the turkeys outside her window making so much noise. She drew a window with curtains to muffle the noise a bit. The baby's bedspread also had turkeys all over it. Who says autistic kids lack imagination? I asked if the baby was Apple, and she said it was not, but I still feel like this is a step closer to the acceptance of her future little sister.

This next one is a portrait of Papa in the medium of potpourri. She had spent the better part of the day playing with said potpourri, pretending that it was frogs on lily pads and in houses. She then used a tupperware bowl to make the circle outline for Papa's face, which we all felt was pretty darn clever of her. I love that he kind of looks like Bert from Sesame Street.

I'm Thankful She Eventually Got Over It...

2008-11-30T16:34:00.012-05:00

As my mother is fond of saying each year after a holiday, "Another Thanksgiving shot to hell", which translates to "well, thank God that's over!" I personally love all holidays and have never shared this sentiment, but it has become such a tradition to say it that I felt the need to do the honors.

We had a nice Thanksgiving weekend back at the homefront. Corinne is so totally into the holidays this year. It started with Halloween and looking for decorated houses. As soon as it was over she wanted to know when the next one is, and even though Thanksgiving doesn't really hold a whole lot of appeal for a girl who doesn't really care about eating, she was excited to go to Mimmie's and Papa's (she thinks they live together, which is a subject that deserves its own post someday). She was also very excited about turkeys, having made a number of them in school over the past week or two. I'm not sure if she really gets the connection between the bird and the main course, but if she does it doesn't seem to bother her that we eat the funny little guy that she made a paper bag representation of.

Anyway, our Thanksgiving weekend was full of our usual traditions. Debbie, who I have known since I was 5 and my best friend growing up, came over for "Good Old Fashioned Family Game Playing Fun Night", a tradition that we started last year that involves a bunch of us drinking too much wine and beer and then attempting to play games that are far too complicated for drunk people, while reminiscing about Robinhood Court.

On Black Friday my mother, Erin, Corinne and I went shopping. We don't do the crazy 5 am thing, and it's usually not too crazy, plus there are some great sales. We had Corinne pick out her own gifts this year, since she has gotten so particular about what she will wear or even play with. It was a nice chick-day (Pete and Papa went to a bar and had a nice dude-day).

On Saturday we always go to the same craft fair. It's a big one with tons of people, and my fantasy to actually participate as a vendor one of these years. It's something like $100 to have a table, though, and you need a NY tax license.

I think the most memorable part of this particular Thanksgiving, though, happened on Wednesday night as we were driving to NY. We left around 8 pm because traffic is just ridiculous from about noon on. As is was we got stuck in ten miles of bumper to bumper just outside of Worcester. Pete was driving, despite the fact that he had only gotten 4 hours of sleep the night before and has been known to fall asleep while reading Corinne a bedtime story. For the record, I offered repeatedly to drive, having taken a nap and drank coffee in preparation. But he insisted that he gets bored as a passenger and usually can't sleep. Corinne was just starting to nod off, which was a score because usually she won't sleep in the car, and I was zoning out when I noticed that we did not seem to be slowing down despite the fact that the car in front of us was stopped. At the last minute I finally realized that Pete, too, had nodded off and I exclaimed something to the effect of "What the hell are you doing!?!" Too late. We bumped the car in front of us, who in turn bumped into the car in front of him. Fortunately we were only going 5 -10 mph and there was no damage or even insurance info exchanged. Corinne, however, was somewhat traumatized. I think my yell scared her and it did make a pretty noticeable thud noise. She cried for about 15 minutes and then for the next hour or so she kept asking questions to the effect of "Why Dadda crash the car?". I think she thought he did it on purpose, because she told him that crashing the car was "not good manners" and that she didn't want to go to sleep because "Dadda might crash the car again". Every time she seemed to be over it, after a few minutes of silence she'd suddenly say "I don't want Dadda crash the car again. Why Dadda crash the car?" It was kind of funny. For me anyway. Maybe not so much for Pete, who I'm sure felt extra guilty. I did have to say just one "I told you so", and needless to say I drove from there. I was a little bit worried that Corinne would never want to get into a car again, but she seems to have gotten over it. That in itself is something to be thankful for.

Turkey float, 2007 parade

Same shot, 2008

I Got In Trouble

2008-11-25T16:47:00.003-05:00

Just as an addendum to my prior post, Kick Me. I got in trouble with Pete for not sharing my concerns with him. He didn't necessarily find out about it by reading the blog, but I did wait a day before telling him, and I didn't really tell him. It kind of came out when he asked about my OB appointment. I tried to explain that I didn't want to worry him unnecessarily, that I saw no benefit in both of us losing sleep over something that would most likely turn out to be fine. Things always seem so much worse at night. And he's an insomniac as it is. Also, there's something about sharing a fear with someone else that makes it all the more real. I chose to take a wait and see approach. He felt that it was not my right to withhold concerns about our baby.

Just thought I'd mention it. Feel free to weigh in with your opinions.

One down...

2008-11-24T19:10:00.004-05:00

The grooming shop murals are done, at least until after the holidays, when she may have me do a few more smaller ones. And Apple's mural is nearing completion. All the background and hard stuff is done. Now I just need to put in all the bugs and fun stuff. I see the light at the end of the tunnel...

Kick Me

2008-11-20T19:53:00.003-05:00

OK, I think all moms, at least those who have given birth within their recent memory, will be able to relate to this one.

I love and hate the phenomenon of a baby kicking inside of me. I love it for obvious reasons. It is a strange and amazing thing. It starts as a little flutter, like a goldfish bumping into the sides of its little fish bowl. At first you think you imagined it, or that it was gas or a muscle spasm. But soon enough it becomes an unmistakable and undeniable kicking sensation, until it reaches the point, in your last couple months, where you fear that the baby will kick its way out of your already-stretched taut belly like some sort of alien. Not to mention the kicking at your bladder and other already-compressed organs. It becomes your constant companion and your pleasant little secret (like when your boss is talking to you but you're not paying any attention because all you are thinking is "aw, my baby is kicking right now"). It is, for me anyway, the first real tangible and concrete evidence that you have a living thing inside of you. That is why pregnant women are always rubbing their bellies; because they are already practicing acknowledging their baby's need for attention. After Corinne was born I missed that kicking a lot. I felt kind of empty inside. And all that kicking, many times a day for long stretches of time, now translated to crying. Many times a day. For long stretches of time.

I hate the kicking of a baby inside of me because it becomes an obsession. Around 24 weeks, which is where am now, you are supposed to do something called kick counting, where you set aside time each day to count the number of kicks in an hour. This is supposed to indicate that your baby is thriving in there. When the baby is kicking up a storm you breath a sigh of relief that all is well. But inevitably there will come a period of time where you don't feel any kicking for awhile. Maybe you were just busy and didn't notice one way or another. But then you becomes conscious of the fact that you haven't felt anything all day and you become fixated on feeling something, anything, to assure yourself that your baby has not died on you.

One of my favorite episodes of ER, in a morbid fascination, train wreck kind of way, is the episode where Doctor Carter's girlfriend loses her baby in her seventh month. She doesn't feel kicking for a day or so and goes to her OB, who does an ultrasound and determines that there is no heart beat. The terrible part is that she has to then deliver this stillborn baby. I was always horrified at the prospect of having to go through all the pain and hours of labor to deliver a baby that you know is dead. The whole while she hears the cries of other healthy babies being born. I cry each and every time I see this particular episode, which incidentally I just saw for like the fourth time about two weeks ago. Watching it while pregnant? Not such a good idea.

This brings me to this week, where, as I'm sure you can guess, I had "the scare". On Tuesday night I realized that I hadn't really felt much all day. I had been mural painting and had been on my feet and preoccupied all day, so I couldn't say for sure if I just wasn't paying attention. That night I felt a couple of kicks, which was enough to reassure me. Wednesday was pretty much the same deal. By Wednesday night, in those wee hours of the morning when I can't fall back to sleep after my late night pee, I lay in bed for hours waiting to feel some kicking. Usually if I lay on my side a certain way this seems to make Apple mad and she kicks like crazy. Not so on Wednesday night. I tried every position, I tried getting up, I tried bending over, I tried shaking my belly around. Nothing. In the saner hours of daylight I wouldn't have been as concerned, but in those late-night hours, when one is alone with one's fears, I became convinced that she was dead. I envisioned having to go through labor to deliver a dead baby and what would we do after? Who would tell our family and our friends? Would we bury her? Would I repaint the nursery or just lock the door and never go in there again? Would we ever try again, me being 37 and all, or would we say "game over"? What would we tell Corinne, who is just starting to accept the notion of a baby sister? It was awful. I vowed that I would call my OB as soon as the office opened (even though I had an appointment already scheduled for the day after). At around 4 AM I felt some faint kicks, but nothing like the hardy little wallops she had been giving me the past few weeks. Then I decided that she was not dead yet, but that my water had broken just a little bit, enough that it was trickling out very slowly and she was slowly suffocating or starving or whatever a baby would do without its "bag of waters", as it is called. This happened to one of the moms in Corinne's EI group, and she delivered her baby at 26 weeks (the baby seems to be OK, but only time will tell, developmentally speaking). So then I fretted about what I would do in this situation. I would have to drive to Boston every day for months to spend time with my baby in a Neonatal Intensive Care unit. I wouldn't be able to touch her or hold her and the chances of her having a bunch of health issues and developmental delays would be very high, if she even survived. And what about poor Corinne and her needs? Or what if we caught the problem early enough and the doctor just prescribed bed rest. What would I do with Corinne and school? And the holidays? And all my unfinished painting projects?

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. By 9:00, when my OB office opened, I was in a state. It didn't help that three different moms asked me how I was feeling when I dropped Corinne off at school. I just smiled and said fine and dandy, while in my head I was thinking that my unborn baby was dying and I had waited one day too many to tell my doctor and that would make all the difference in the outcome. It didn't help that when I called the office and spoke to the nurse, she instructed me to go to the hospital's labor and delivery to be put on a monitor, not "oh it's nothing to worry about, just wait until your appointment tomorrow". She called back a few minutes later to tell me to eat breakfast (I hadn't, in case they had to do an emergency C- section) and drink water and count kicks for an hour before coming to the regular office, because L&D was very backed up and I would have to wait for hours. This was a little more reassuring. I did as instructed, and to make an already long story a little shorter, the doctor listened to the heart and it was normal, which indicates that everything is probably just fine. He wants me to come in for an ultrasound next week, just to check her growth, but he wasn't concerned, especially this early on. He was very nice and reassuring, but I feel like a hysterical mother, which I normally am not, nonetheless. Like they were all saying after I left, "Ugh, there goes another one, pregnancy hormones all raging. How many more times will we be seeing her with false alarms? Wait until she starts having Braxton-Hicks contractions!" But at least I will sleep better tonight, and for the time being I know we're A-OK. And of course, as I type this, I feel little Apple kicking away. Still not quite as heartily as before, but the doctor thinks she has most likely just changed positions so I don't feel it quite as pronounced. I just wish I could go and get the heart rate checked every day, and maybe an ultrasound every other day. I remember this with Corinne, too. The count down to when she could safely be born prematurely. If I can just keep her in there and keep her alive until, say, 35 weeks or so... Then my worries will be over. Except that then, when they're born, you wish that they could just stay inside of you forever so that you always know where they are and that they're nice and protected.

Sigh.

Two Firsts

2008-11-08T19:22:00.007-05:00

This week Corinne had two firsts: her first "real" haircut and her first trip to the dentist.

Let me preface this by saying that these are two events that are notoriously troublesome for autistic kids. Kids on the spectrum do not like having their heads touched and they do not like strangers to get all "up in their grill". For example, Corinne does not like to wear hats and she still cries and carries on whenever we wash her hair. It has only been the past 6 months or so that she will tolerate going to the pediatrician, and that is only because it has been awhile since she had any shots, and there is always the promise of candy. There was a time in her life when I thought for sure that going to the dentist was probably just never going to happen, at least without some serious sedation, and that she would be doomed to a lifetime of momma's bang trimming nightmares. Once again, though, she proved us wrong.

First was the haircut. She had had a trim once before from Auntie E's friend Melissa, who is a hairdresser. But that was in the familiar surroundings of Mimmie's house and she knew Melissa. Other than that it's been momma's home cuts (and it showed!), but her hair had gotten to a point where I couldn't tell what was bags and what was supposed to be long and it was all in her eyes. So this time we went to a new place in town that just does kids cuts. We were the only ones there and she got to watch a dvd. I wouldn't say she loved the experience, but overall it was a success. The place scored big points off the bat for having a fish print smock. She did pretty well, albeit a little tense, up until they did her bangs. I watched her face start to scrunch up in pre-cry mode. She tried so hard to keep it together, which is a big improvement for her (a year ago she would have gone directly to pitch-a-fit mode). I think she got some hair in her eyes, because she said it hurt her eyes. She recovered quickly and seemed very relieved when it was all done (and of course I gave her candy, too).

High on that successful mission, I decided to schedule her for her first teeth cleaning. They just learned about dentists in school as part of their "community helpers" unit, so the timing couldn't be better. The hygienist recommended that I not tell her too much about it ahead of time, which goes contrary to our usual approach of discussing new things until we're blue in the face, sometimes even practicing and playing pretend as well. I trusted the advice and once again Corinne did great. She actually seemed to really like it. The hygienist was great and let Corinne go at her own pace. She got to go up and down in the chair and feel the tools on her fingers first. They counted her teeth (five, according to Corinne) and she learned how to spit. She thought the little sink was funny, as was the "bib like dadda wore for Halloween" (he wore a plastic lobster bib to go with her costume). She liked that there was a picture of hot air balloons on the ceiling light, and that she got a "present bag just like momma's" (I was at the dentist a few days earlier) with "spit out" toothpaste and a new toothbrush. She even tolerated the spinny, noisy brush thing, which I thought would freak her out. She says she wants to go back again, and we play going to the dentist at home now.

So there you have it, two more hurdles crossed, two more mountains climbed, two more notches in our belt. Next up: dealing with a new baby in the house.

Bidness

2008-11-03T10:13:00.000-05:00

Like the way I snuck those last four posts in there, back-dated so they'd look like they'd been there all along? Yeah, I know, I've been a bit remiss in posting as of late. This is exactly why I was reluctant to start a blog in the first place. It becomes just another thing weighing heavy on your mind, another item on the to-do list. The truth is I've been really busy. Between Halloween stuff and volunteer stuff and just stuff. Also, the "Bouncing Off the Walls" business has been picking up, as it usually does right before Christmas. I've had two craft fairs and another one coming up this weekend. I have a mural pending for a grooming shop, a commissioned chair to paint, two growth charts on deck with the promise of a couple more on the back burner. Part of me is hoping that I don't pick up any new business at this weekend's fair. Don't get me wrong, I love that I'm making some money and I love painting and I won't turn away "bidness". I'm not complaining. I'm just kind of bugging out. Why can't the baby be due in, say May or June? Then I'd be ready. The old nesting instinct is back, stronger than before, and I need things to be done. I need to put some checks on my to-do list. By my calculations I only have November to do the mural for Apple's room because December is crazy with Christmas decorating and shopping and cookie baking and cooking and preparing for a houseful of people. And then it's January and God help me, that's the month before the baby is due (C-section is scheduled for February 23rd, by the way). And watch, this time the baby will come early and I'll end up with a natural birth anyway. And of course there's always the fear that I'll end up on bed rest any day now for some reason and nothing will get done. So I really want to get the mural done, but whenever I work on it I feel like I should be working on the paid projects and it all makes me just want to take a nap. Or eat Halloween candy. On the bright side, I have at least started the baby's room, and so far I'm really pleased with how it looks. This one will be a garden scene, with frog pond and lots of bugs and cutesy-cute and much girlier than Corinne's room. It's part of my sociological experiment called "how much can you shape a kid's personality by surrounding it with a particular genre?" Corinne has a fish room and is obsessed with fish. Will the new baby be a girlie-girl if I give her a girlie room? Will she actually like dolls (which Corinne despises) and doll houses and princesses? Maybe I should paint her room in a "surgeon" theme or a "trial lawyer" theme. But I digress. This post is really just my way of saying I'm still here, I haven't forgotten about my blog or my loyal readers (all 3 of you). Now, I need to stop procrastinating and get back to work!

Gymnastics Party

2008-11-02T21:38:00.005-05:00

Today Corinne went to her first classmate birthday party, which was held at a gymnastics place. We weren't sure how this was going to fly for her, especially when it became clear that the parents were supposed to watch from a separate room. Once again we were pleasantly surprised. Corinne followed her classmates into the gym and they started off with the parachute. This has traditionally been one of Corinne's bigger phobias, between the texture and the billowing. But she stood back and watched at first, then held on to it and shook it like everyone else. When everyone went underneath it she hesitated, but then someone took her hand and pulled her in. Pete and I watched, holding our breath. She emerged with everyone else a few minutes later smiling and clearly had enjoyed the experience.

She had trouble keeping up the pace of the obstacle course-like things (at any given time the whole class was backed up behind her), but she did her best to follow what "her new teachers" demonstrated, and she watched her peers as well, which was even more important. She was cautious, as always, but allowed the instructors to help her do somersaults and even rolled around on her own. She jumped on the trampoline, hung from the rings, walked on the balance beam and even got into "the pit", a hole filled with foam blocks. She seemed to have fun (in her squinky, marches to the beat of her own drum, Corinne kind of way) and when asked, said she would like to come back to do it again. She'll never be Mary Lou Rhetton (too much of her mother's uncoordination for that), but to see her joining in with her peers and having fun, even in a new and overstimulating environment... Well, that's something we weren't sure she'd ever be able to do. Another monumental day.

Halloween Festivities, Galore

2008-11-01T10:14:00.009-04:00

We've been very busy with all things Halloween. I've always been a big fan of the holiday, but it's even more exciting when you have a kid. And Corinne is even more into it than I am. The mere mention of decorating or ghosts or skeletons gets such an enthusiastic response, you're worried she might pee herself (which isn't really a problem, because she still won't use the potty, but that's a subject for another post). And that's not even mentioning the candy, which has an instant euphoric effect on her, causing her to run around in circles like a complete spazz. It's amazing to me how she still can't identify her letters of the alphabet, but she knows all the names of her favorite candies and can recognize them by their packaging.

So Corinne wanted to be a lobster this year, and, big surprise, I couldn't find a costume in the stores so I made her one based on a craft show I saw years ago. It consisted of red sweat pants and shirt, plastic plates and a lot of red duct tape. It came out pretty good, if I do say so myself, and she got a lot of attention everywhere she went.

First, on Thursday there was the Monster March at school, where all the preschoolers paraded around the court yard for the moms and dads.

Then, that afternoon was the downtown trick-or-treating and Halloween party, which is quite a spectacle. Hundreds of kids turn out and go from store to store. Last year the candy was lame (like starlite mints and hard candies, the kind of stuff restaurants give out at the end of a meal), but this year was much better for chocolate. As the MFA's official Craft Coordinator, I was in charge of the craft for the party. We made jack-o-lanterns out of paper plates. Not very inspired, but you try to come up with a craft for hundreds of kids with a budget of $20 or so. It was windy, too, so all my pumpkin face parts kept blowing away. Corinne was very excited about the party, but wanted to know who's birthday it was and why there was no cake.

Then Friday night was real trick-or-treating night. Not as many kids around this year, so everyone was giving out candy by the handful. Not good for the pregnant lady to have all this chocolate hanging around. Corinne really likes trick-or-treating except for the houses with spooky music playing. We had to skip those.

So all in all it was a great Halloween. Corinne has already told us that she's "so excited for Thanksgiving", even though she doesn't really know what it is. Wait 'til Christmas rolls around...

Fall Festival

2008-10-16T10:11:00.003-04:00

Today was Corinne's Preschool Fall Festival at school, which was mostly just an open house for parents to come in and have a snack and see what the little 'ens have been up to. Regretfully, I forgot to bring my camera (I wasn't sure if it was that kind of event, and I didn't want to be that mom), so you're just going to have to take my word for it that Corinne has turned into a very different kind of kid than the scared little girl in Early Intervention playgroup six months ago.

When I go there, before I even entered the classroom, I could hear her clear down the hallway exclaiming delightedly that Momma was coming. Upon seeing me she began yelling "I love you Momma!", much to the amusement (and jealousy) of the other parents. She really was quite a spectacle about it, so overwhelming was the thrill of having Momma here, in her classroom.

What struck me the most was just how comfortable she was there. She showed me toys and things that she liked, and moved with ease from one activity table to another. This is the girl who use to be in full blown defensive mode any time there were kids around, her body stiff and ready for flight. Now she was aware of the other kids, but not uneasy with them. She greeted them in response to their hello's and told me the names of many of them when I asked.

The highlight for me was when they sat down for circle time. Corinne sat on her little mat between two other kids and even joined in the songs as best she could (she is a little slower than they are and sometimes needs prompting, but left on her own she watched the teacher's every move intently and followed along, albeit a little after the fact.) I wish her Early Intervention people could have seen her. She is adapting to school better than we ever could have imagined and she really likes going there. We've seen such an improvement in her voice affect, her independent play, and her imagination (some of it quite strange, but that makes it even better, in our book) We couldn't be happier.

Oh, and I made some kick ass Halloween cookies for the party, too. Much better than my fourth of July ones.

End of an Era

2008-10-13T21:15:00.012-04:00

Oh, it's a sad time. It is the official end of "The Room". You know, the former play/ guest/den/ adult room. The one that contained all of our treasures and oddities. It's gone, ladies and gentlemen. It has been dismantled and primed over in preparation for Apple's future nursery and mural. She is also getting a nice big closet door, courtesy of Dadda, Uncle David, Grandpa and Mark, which necessitates the removal of all the magnetic paint (sniff).

Many difficult decisions were made regarding the status of books, toys and magnets. We are having a yard sale, but we couldn't bring ourselves to part with much of it (and honestly, who'd want it?). In the end 90% of the room's contents were packed up and stored in the already too full attic. I like to think that someday we will have The Room again, perhaps in the basement or in a new, bigger house. But then, we had asked ourselves many times if we ever thought we'd reach a point where it was just not appropriate to have such a room anymore? Like when we were in our 50's. Or like when Corinne started bringing friends home who'd then wonder what was up with Corinne's weird parents. Corinne's going to have enough trouble finding and keeping friends. Not to mention what their parents would think... So this is probably the end of an era. Much like the selling of Groucho, this marks the end of a certain lifestyle for us. We are parents now, first and foremost. Grown ups. Lame people with a serious house.

Goodbye, life sized creepy mannequin with glowing Roswell alien shirt (although we will bring you out each year at Halloween time). Goodbye Jacques Le Toaster. Goodbye, Baby Kleenex Head (although I will certainly proudly display you on my desk again when I return to the work force some day). Goodbye, Gus Guts. Goodbye Suckie, the four foot stuffed catfish (although you may fit into Corinne's room decor). Goodbye, Senor Rubin, naked blow up guy from our Jorge and Juanita pre-wedding party. We will dearly miss each and every one of you and all that you represented.

But it is going to be a really cool mural in Apple's room.

The closet wall, pre-Apple pregnancy

The closet wall today. The rest of the room was too painful to show.

My 15 Minutes (or Four Paragraphs) of Fame

2008-10-10T21:01:00.002-04:00

Well here it is: Bouncing Off the Wall's big debut into the media. Now I just sit back and wait for the jobs to start rolling in...

From the Beacon-Villager (some names have been changed to protect the innocent):

One of the more colorful booths on Main Street was helmed by M--- resident LoserFamily, Inc., owner of Bouncing Off the Walls. Loser,inc. handpaints wall murals, furniture and other things made out of wood for children.

Loser, inc. said she got started helping to paint a jungle-themed wall mural for her friend, who had just had a baby, about four years ago. Once her own daughter was born, and she painted her daughter's bedroom, Loser,inc. said she decided to try her hand at selling her wares for other children.

Loser,inc. had plenty of colorful, cheerful items for sale: a small, child-sized rocking chair with a Noah's Ark; a small pink and green bureau; clothes pegs; and decorative rulers to be used to measure a child's height, with themes from a farm to under the sea to dinosaurs. Almost everything she paints can be personalized with the child's name, said Loser,inc.

Loser,inc. said she also does custom work, on basically anything that is wood. Her web site: http://www.bouncingwallmurals.com/.

Good Ol' Fashioned Family Fun

2008-10-06T19:59:00.007-04:00

This Past weekend was our beloved little town's annual street party. I just love the small town New England wholesomeness of it. Everywhere it's smiling faces and balloons and music and cheap toys and fried dough and it's just a nice day. Everyone in town comes turns out for it and every year we know more and more people. During the day is the street fair with vendors, pony rides, paddle boats, food and bouncy rides and tons of free stuff. The evening is "Octoberfest", which is a quote/ unquote beer garden, featuring such exotic brews as Budweiser. Then comes the finale, a fireworks show over the pond, which is a pretty impressive one, given our town is only 5 square miles wide and has a population of about 10,000 people.

Corinne's favorite thing at the Fest is the Happy Wagon, which in our family we call the Crazy Train. It's basically just a guy on a riding tractor pulling a bunch of barrels with kids in it at $3 a pop. The man's a genius. It probably makes 4 or 5 runs an hour, 10+ kids per run for about 8 hours. You do the math. I'm in the wrong business. But the best part about it is the recklessness of it. It runs up and down the very crowded streets, making a series of switch-back turns and blaring an ooga horn. Here are Corinne and I in the coveted front barrel.

And here we are in 2007
and at our first Fest in 2006 (with Dadda and friend Zoe, on the right).

This was the second year that I had a booth to "peddle my wares". I did OK, though not quite as well as last year (damn economy). I sold a few growth charts, gave out a ton of business cards which may or may not turn into future business, and most importantly, gave an interview to our local, once-weekly newspaper. Bouncing Off the Walls is hittin' the big time, Baby! Stay tuned for my big debut.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2008-10-04T19:42:00.002-04:00

My friend Meghan, of http://babycryan.blogspot.com/ , gave Corinne a cute, knitted octopus (OK, actually it was for the new baby, but Corinne quickly claimed it as her own, so Meghan was nice enough to make us a second one). Pete, Corinne and I were driving in the car with said octopus that night and Corinne was trying to think of a name for it. Pete suggested "Pussy" (short for Octopus, but yes, Pete is also a jerk), but Corinne opted for "Wavy", which I feel is actually pretty clever and beats her usual choices like "Puppy" and " Shark". A little while later (we were sitting in traffic), Corinne announced out of the blue: "Pete likes Pussy".

Oh God, please don't tell that to your teacher, Corinne!

It's a.....

2008-09-29T19:51:00.001-04:00

We went for our level 2 ultrasound today to make sure the baby seems to be anatomically OK (it is) and find out the gender. And it's a ...

another GIRL :)

Here she is waving Hello.

Corinne, who came with us, says we should name her "don't make a mess" and described the frontal view of the face as "an apple face". So until she is born (sometime in late February), we'll call her Apple. We do have a name picked out this time and we're not telling!

Testing, one, two, three...

2008-09-22T09:00:00.008-04:00

If the two's are terrible, then the three's are hell on Earth.

Suddenly my very sweet, rule abiding, eager to please daughter has discovered the power of "no". It's her answer to everything. And oh, are we ever testing our boundaries. Suddenly she has strong opinions about everything. For example, her clothes. She has decided that she will only wear her mushroom shirt (ugly), her whale shirt (too small), her Buzz Lightyear T-shirt or her crayon T-shirt (too cold!). And blue pants (jeans, none of which stay up on her skinny little waist). And this includes bedtime as well. Now that it is starting to turn cold outside our house is always a good ten degrees cooler inside than out. It definitely calls for warm, footie pajamas, especially for the one who doesn't sleep under any covers. But no, every night we battle it out over her right to sleep in whichever short sleeve T-shirt (and no pants) she has on. And there is no logic in what her preferences are. She has two identical pairs of pajamas, except that one has dinosaurs and one has lambs. Well, she loves the dino ones and, in her words, "I hate those sheep ones!". As anyone who has ever tried to reason with a toddler knows, well, you just can't. She even has opinions about my clothes now She disapproves of my grey fleece shirt that I like to wear with my fat pants. She tells me to take it off. She won't even come near you if you have that "stupid princess blankie" on you. She despises it with every fiber of her being, despites how soft it is.

For the first time she is starting to have real temper tantrums. Not the meltdowns that she has always had when something freaks her out or upsets/ scares her. No, these are just seriously pissed off, I'm not getting my own way, temper tantrums. Right now I am still mildly amused by them, if only because they are so unlike her normally sweet, passive disposition and also that this behavior is just so wonderfully normal for a toddler/ preschooler. But I suspect it's going to get old pretty quickly.

And then there's the brazen disregard for rules. Like how I told her to keep her beach sand in the box and try not to get it on the floor, only to find her with a handful of it, slowly letting it trickle out on to the rug not 30 minutes later. I told her that I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt that maybe she just forgot. This time. We know she's testing her boundaries and what she can get away with, and we know that our responses to these situations are really critical to shaping her behaviors down the road. We feel like we're ahead so far, but not by much. And she's gaining. And she may be smarter, or at least more clever and devious than we gave her credit for.

We have never really had to baby proof our house because she never got into things. And even when she did really start to explore, she was still pretty good about respecting the rules of what was off limits. But lately I never know what condition I'm going to find her bedroom in when I go in after a nap. Dresser ransacked, clothes everywhere, dirty laundry put away in its place, dozens of hair "pretties" around the necks of stuffed animals and stuffed into small containers, band aids and diapers scattered all over, sticker tags from new outfits stuck all over furniture... and today a small bottle of (fortunately) clear, sparkle nail polish opened (a month ago she couldn't even open a large jar with a loose lid!) and a quarter sized blob of it stuck on the rug. And an entire vial of fish food gone ("Doggie ate it", Hmm, didn't think Doggie knew how to open jars either). This was supposed to be two year old behavior, and we'd thought we'd gotten off easy.

I've decided that Corinne is basically just 6 months to a year behind her same-aged peers, and that for better or for worse she'll start doing "it" (whether "it" be talking, riding a bike, playing with a certain kind of toy, or just being a brat) soon enough. And while I do long for the return of my "sweet angel girl" at times, I also have a certain degree of respect for the stubborn, strong-willed, playfully mischievous personality that is emerging. Now check with me in a a couple more weeks and we'll see if I still feel that way!

Wiley Coyotes

2008-09-10T19:03:00.001-04:00

We were abruptly awakened last night by the howling of at least two coyotes down the street from our house. It was the weirdest thing. Kind of eery and ominous. It reminded me of when we drove cross country and parked in the middle of nowhere in Utah to sleep in the back of Groucho (the pickup truck) for the night. We had eaten hamburgers at a take out place and stuck the bag of garbage up on the roof to get it out of the way. We woke up to coyotes just outside the truck howling and carrying on. The next morning their footprints were all around us. Anyway, it was surreal to hear them 20 miles from Boston. Pete was disappointed that both cats were safely in the house at the time.

Hurricanes and Lobsters and Sharks, Oh My!

2008-09-07T19:46:00.004-04:00

This weekend we went to Maine to visit Gamma and "Old Gampa" (formerly known as Dumma and Dumpa). Despite the hurricane warnings, the weather was actually pretty nice and perfect kite flying weather. Our shark kite was the super coolest kite on the beach.

On Saturday night we picked up some lobsters for dinner (all except poor pregnant me, who can't eat them due to their high mercury content or some fool thing). We had them once before, back in June, and Corinne, despite her love for "Hey Heys", as she called them, was a little bit bugged out by them and freaked out as soon as we took them out of the bag. Not so this time. She approached them cautiously at first, and then touched one carefully. She noticed he was bumpy and had blue on him and had a pointy nose like a rhino. And he smelled like pee yew.

From there all her reservations completely dissipated. Next thing we knew she was picking them up and playing with them. She brought one upstairs to "prise Gampa". She hid one in the dresser drawer in her room to sleep with her. She called them her lobster pets and said they were so cute. Then she put all four into the lobster trap coffee table in the living room, saying it was their nice safe cage. But the absolute best Corinne quote was that they looked like "little mailmen. And they bring mail to yucky people." Ah, Corinne, you are exactly the quirky child that everyone predicted would be the offspring of Pete and I!

We put her to bed before it was time to cook her lobster friends (lest we set her back after making all this progress), although I think some of them were dead by this time already. Poor things. Death by toddler has got to be way worse than death by boiling.

A Week Under Her Belt

2008-09-04T19:49:00.001-04:00

Well, Corinne has survived her first full week of school with flying colors. We have already added a half hour onto her day because she is doing so well, and seems to want to be involved with what the other kids are doing (as opposed to working separately with her aide). Now she stays for lunch time and sits at a table with her classmates. She also does circle time, and I'm told that she is doing her best to follow along and even stands up to say her name, shakes hands with her friends and sits between two other kids (in the past she always had to be on the end, preferably with an adult next to her). She is learning the name of her teacher, school and the town we live in, as well as her classmates names. We've settled into a nice little routine and she is always very excited when I tell her we're going to school. Everyone is thrilled with how she is doing and I think they are starting to get a taste of her true, silly personality. She has only cried twice. Once was because she got soap in her eyes and once was because she didn't like the plastic gloves that her aide has to wear to change her diaper (she told me they looked like the plastic bags that Momma puts snacks into). Go figure. So all is well and everyone is happy here at Loser Family, Inc. these days. More to come.

First Day of School

2008-08-27T18:27:00.003-04:00

Well, today was the big day- Corinne's first day of preschool. I'm happy to report that there were no tears (at least not from her. Dadda and I may have teared up a little) and she really seems to like it. She's got her own aide, Mrs. H, who will be with her all the time, except when she's with her OT and speech therapist. That helps a lot, because at no point is she left to fend for herself. For now she's only going half days (2 1/2 hours) 5 days a week, but we will add another hour when she seems like she's ready for it, which I suspect will be sooner rather than later. Eventually she'll be up to 6 hours a day, 4 days a week.

So for today we have managed to get out of her (with the help of her daily notes) that she painted, did circle time, sang "open and shut them" (to which she exclaimed with delight "Steph sings that song every day!", referring to how one of her EI providers taught her that song this summer) and an unidentified song about a bean bag. She ate a pretzel and did a snowman puzzle. One boy cried because probably he missed his momma, but she, Corinne, did not cry. Upon picking her up, her first words to me were "I want to take a nap, momma" (even though it was only 11:00) and some concern that I had forgotten my bag (I dropped off a change of clothes and diapers that morning).

Upon arriving home, Corinne decided that her favorite stuffed animal, Shamu, should be exiled to our front walkway, where she left him until nap time, retrieved him for nap only to return him to the outdoors again after nap. She even left him there while we went to the grocery store, despite my warnings that someone might take him. I wish it could have been her pacifier, the beloved Boobah, instead. I'm sure there's some sort of psychology at work here regarding feelings of abandonment that I'll try not to dwell on.

So there you have it, a nicely uneventful first day of school. Hopefully she will continue to like it. In the meantime I must admit that I'm loving my 2 1/2 hours of freedom!

new classmates (Corinne at far right)

Vacation Week

2008-08-25T19:50:00.000-04:00

We just finished up our family vacation week. We were originally going to stay in a cabin up in New Hampshire, but then I went and got all pregnant, and we decided that the money was needed more than the "escape". But Pete still took the week off and we had a nice, relaxing time and did a number of half day trips. We went to a barbecue for our playgroup, a birthday party for Corinne's friend Hannah, the drive in, which was a surprising success. We found a great double screen place not too far from our house and loaded up the Family Dorkster with Corinne's mattress, couch cushions, blankets and stuffed animals. Then we got ourselves some Chinese take out and ate in the back of the van while watching Wall-E, which Corinne really liked. She was nice and calm during it, although she proved she isn't quite ready for the regular cinema by talking in a fairly loud voice for the first hour ("Momma, what's this one's name?"; " What's that one called?"; "Hi Dadda!", etc, etc.). Then we turned the van around facing forward and Corinne slept in the back while Pete and I watched Bat Man. We'd definitely do it again.

We also went to the Southwick Zoo, which was way better than Stone Zoo that we went to a couple weeks ago. I liked the monkeys, which were really playful and funny. One kept reaching his arm through the bars to hold people's hands (Herpes B, anyone?!) and would then lick his hand. Pete liked the camels because there was a one hump one who kept biting the humps on the two humpers (we think he had hump envy) and they would make this really loud, pissed off noise.

Corinne liked the turtles, especially the regular, boring old kind that are in every pond in North America. She went back to them again and again and squinked herself silly. Go figure. Nothing else impressed her nearly as much.

Next we went to the Big Bugs exhibit at Garden in the Woods. There were thirteen great big bug sculptures made of organic materials- very cool.

We also went to our old favorite, the DeCordova Sculpture park. Here's Corinne, admiring the pine cone people. As a big fan of pine cones, this exhibit really spoke to her.

So all in all a great week. It was nice having Pete home every day and he really loved being able to spend so much time with Corinne. Today it was back to school shopping for Corinne and I to get ready for the first day on Wednesday. Stay tuned...

(Corinne and Turtle, driving the Family Dorkster after flower picking with Dadda)

Another Jungle Mural

2008-08-20T19:51:00.003-04:00

I actually "went to work" this week. I was paid (by someone whom I didn't even know, no less!) to paint a few jungle animals for a nursery. I'm hoping this job will lead to some more, as the woman had a very large extended family with lots of kids, and they asked for some of my cards. I'll need something to keep me busy once Corinne starts school (which is next week, by the way. Eeek!) It took me about 2 days to do this one, which is pretty good for me. I'm getting much faster, and time is money, people. I've got two craft fairs coming up in September and October, so stay tuned...

Fish Party

2008-08-12T19:50:00.003-04:00

Corinne had her super terrific fish birthday party, and it was a big success. The weather held out until just as the party was ending, the food and decorations were prepared with minimal stress (thanks and big props go out to Diane for making most of the food, Mom and Nana for help with the clean up, and Erin for the decorations) the games ("Pin the Tail on the Whale" and "Pass the Octopus") went off without any meltdowns, and everyone, including Corinne, seemed to have a good time. She kept saying "I having a fish party!" The only bad thing were my rancid cupcakes (sorry David!), but the Nemo cake was delicious, if I do say so myself!

Corinne was quite smitten with her special present, her very own fish tank. She named them Dory and Nemo.

Opening presents

Nemo cake (two tubs of frosting. Mmmmmm)

A shark ate my baby! (Note the giant mosquito welt under her eye. Again.)

Bittersweet

2008-08-04T01:31:00.006-04:00

This is my first late night blog post. It's 1:30 in the morning and I just can't sleep.

Little Miss Corinne turns the big 3 on Thursday. We have big plans- lots of family and friends coming for a much anticipated Fish Party (no sushi, sadly. But a fish shaped cake, at least). We're all very excited about the big day, but it is also bittersweet, because in the world of Early Intervention services, turning three is synonymous with the end. Wednesday is the last day our "friends", as we call them, and rightly so, will be coming to our house.

We've been preparing Corinne for this week for awhile. We made a "goodbye book" and talked a lot about it to help her understand that this phase of her life is ending and school is beginning. Gift cards have been purchased and thank you cards have been written. And although I spent a lot of time drafting and personalizing each one, I still don't feel like they quite capture the depth of our gratitude. How do you even begin to thank someone who has given you the gift of a happy, mostly well adjusted child? Corinne is like a typical three year old in every sense of the world. She's active and inquisitive. She runs and jumps and does splits and spins. She asks questions about any and everything. She's silly and clever and makes us laugh every day. She tells us often that she loves us with words and affection. She is the ultimate autism success story, the best case scenario that we ever could have hoped for (there is actually a therapist in her playgroup who is new this summer who thought Corinne was the "community child", the normal kid invited to group to be a sort of role model for the special needs kids. She couldn't believe Corinne is on the spectrum, based on what she was seeing. Can you imagine how much it makes my heart smile to hear something like that?!) How do you ever pay someone back for making that happen? Sure, Corinne is an extraordinary little girl who has overcome a lot. Sure, Pete and I recognized the problem early and got help asap, and have made "fixing" Corinne our number one action item for Loser Family, Inc. But more than anything Corinne is who she is today because of the efforts of these wonderful women who have come into our home and our lives and have loved Corinne and worked tirelessly with her as if she were their own child, not just another kid in a long string of kids that make up their work day. Through what appears on the surface to just be play, they have taught her how to interact with and enjoy the company of others. They have taught her (and us) how to work through her frustrations and fears. They have taught her to be confident in her speech and her movements. She looks forward to their visits and has her favorite games with each of them. We see each of them at least twice a week, in a nice laid out routine that has been familiar and comforting for Corinne. This had been our life for the past year and a half. We have shared with them our success stories, our fears and concerns, and our proud moments. It's so hard for it all to end. On the one hand it feels like this is the natural progression, that it is ending just as Corinne is ready for the next phase, because Corinne really is so ready to start pre-school in a few weeks. But on Thursday morning when we wake up and Corinne asks "Momma, what we doing today?", expecting a list of "well, first Debbie, then Denise's playgroup, then lunch and nap, then Gayle, then Dadda comes home...", it's going to seem so strange to say "I don't know, baby, what would you like to do today?" (thank God Diane and the girls are coming up on Wednesday night for a few days, which will help ease us through this transition. I only wish we could both slosh back a couple bottles of wine!) As hard as it was times to be locked into such a structured schedule, I am going to feel a little bit lost without it, and a lot lost without the people who comprised it . I have become as attached to Corinne's providers as she has. I interacted with them more than my own friends, hell, more than my own husband! It's like having a good friend move away (hint, hint, S@L!). You vow to keep in touch, but it just isn't the same as hanging out with them. You feel an empty spot in your life where they once were. And you all know how I feel about people I care about leaving my life. More "essences" to add to the little jar.

So that's why I'm up and blogging in the wee hours of the morning. It's going to be a difficult and emotional week (not to mention my pregnancy hormones are raging as it is, but that's a topic for another post), but at least I can look forward to what's next. We feel so optimistic about Corinne's future, so for that gift, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you Denise, Debbie, Gayle, Stephanie, Katie, Jamie and Monica (and Laura and Kerry, who moved on a few months ago, but were just as big a part of Corinne's success). We will never forget any of you for all that you have done for Corinne and for our family.

Potty Mouth

2008-07-29T21:32:00.002-04:00

This past weekend Pete did us all a favor and took Corinne to a playground for a couple hours. On the way home, in his usual thoughtful way, he stopped at Dunkin's and got me a decaf iced mocha latte, which he then promptly spilled in its entirety all over the floor in the back of the Family Dorkster. When they got home (after buying me a replacement) Pete was out in the garage shop-vaccing the van while Corinne and I had the following conversation:

Me: Did dadda spill coffee in the car?
Corinne (somewhat solemnly): yeah
Me: Was he so mad?
Corinne: yeah
Me: Did he say "grumble grumble mumble fiddle faddle grumble"
Corinne (after thoughtful consideration): No, he said "F**k"

Oh dear.

When asked to repeat it again later to dadda, at least she downgraded it to "God Damn it" (with heavy emphasis on the damn it). And this is the child who never forgets anything. She's going to be such a hit at school.

I've Died and Gone to Heaven

2008-07-21T20:26:00.002-04:00

Oh. My. God. This ice cream is so good I have deemed it "Blogworthy". You and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other, Mister Cinnamon Bun Ice Cream.

I Know Something...

2008-07-17T15:23:00.004-04:00

Pete and I have struggled with the question of whether or not to have a second child ever since Corinne was diagnosed with PDD. When she was first born, before we even left the hospital, we knew we wanted another one. The experience was so special, we couldn't wait to do it again. And we wanted her to have a sibling, a playmate, to not have to be alone in the world someday when we're gone. When she was diagnosed, though, we slammed on the brakes and said "no more, this gene pool is closed". We had been through a hellish 6 or so months, and still her future was so uncertain. We knew that she could regress at any time and lose skills she had already learned, that this might not even be as bad as it gets. We didn't know if she'd ever talk, if she'd ever be able to learn to cope, if she'd ever be able to be independent and live her own life. We knew we were going to have to devote all our energy into her therapies and interventions, into helping her be as normal as possible.

No one knows for sure what causes autism, but the consensus seems to be that it has a genetic component that may or may not be kicked in by unknown environmental factors. We knew that siblings of autistic kids have a 1 in 10 chance of also being on the spectrum, and we knew of enough families with more than one special needs child to prove the statistic. The thought of us, the Loser Couple, rolling that dice again seemed too risky. We both worked with rodent breeding programs, we understood punett squares and genetics. If a breeding pair produced offspring with undesirable characteristics, you stopped breeding that pair. We talked about it, we debated it with family and friends. We got angry that we were dealt this crappy hand, how unfair it was that we couldn't just go ahead and decide to have another child without all these considerations, and we stood firm on our decision. We were done, and it broke our hearts.

Then sometime last winter our firm resolve began to waiver. The topic got put back on the agenda at Loser Family, Inc. Board meetings. Pete was 100% for having another, he'd just been waiting for me to decide. I wasn't so sure. Could I even enjoy a second baby, or would I be so focused on analyzing its every behavior, noting every milestone met, or not met? Could I possibly go through it all again, the realizing that my child is different, that something isn't right; the evaluations and specialists and Early Intervention and IEP's. And even if the second child was typical, was it fair to that child to have a sibling who was so high maintenance, who took so much of our energy? We shelved the idea for awhile, but it was there, always, in the back of my mind. I struggled with it daily. Try again or just be happy that Corinne seems to be turning out OK? Roll the dice or fold? Would I do it all over again, conceiving Corinne, knowing what I now knew? If the baby ended up with problems, would we still love it? Did I kind of like the idea of being pregnant again, of nursing and bonding and all the joy that comes with a baby? Had I gotten rid of any of Corinne's baby stuff yet? I think the answers, and where this post is headed, are obvious.

We decided to leave it to The Fates. I went off the pill, but used "alternate protection" for a couple months, along with some other steps to ensure that we were producing the healthiest gametes possible.

And..., well, The Fates said let's do this thing, because it happened the very first opportunity. We conceived during our anniversary weekend and now Loser Family, Inc. is adding another employee, start date some time in late February (by scheduled C-section, this I am quite firm on. There will be no "fetal distress" and "heart decelerations" this time around, thank you very much.)

So if you'd been wondering why I haven't posted in awhile, that would be because I've had a lot on my mind (and because we needed to tell the grandparents first). At least I'll have no shortage of blog-worthy material now.

We're excited and terrified. And for you preying folks out there, if you could, say one for us. Because I know I'm going to question if we made the right decision until that baby looks me in the eyes and smiles.

PS- The title refers to the manner in which my college friends and I have always announced some seriously juicy gossip. You say "I know saaam-theeng" in this mexican-like accent and then force everyone to laboriously drag the secret out of you. We're so mature.

PPS- I decided to announce this on my blog to find out who my regular readers are!

What I Did for my Fourth of July Weekend

2008-07-06T19:53:00.000-04:00

Mimmie came to visit.

We went to the playground...
and the beach...and this place...

and Corinne became a tree gnome.

The End

Fourth of July Massacre

2008-06-29T18:42:00.002-04:00

This is why I work in the medium of paint and wood.

Fun With Phonics

2008-06-26T19:58:00.008-04:00

Corinne's speech therapist has a bunch of flash cards depicting a word and a picture that symbolizes the word (for example a ghost for "boo"). Some of the words are a little bit obscure, as they are aimed more at teaching the child a certain sound combination than at the vocabulary itself. Because Corinne is so visual and so bright, I usually try to give her an explanation of what the thing is, and how it relates to her, whenever possible (although I was hard pressed to make "Abe", as in the president, meaningful to her). She is surprisingly good at remembering these explanations and then using the word later on in a completely appropriate context (like when she said "horsie 'nipped' me", or when she yells "Fussy baby" at crying children).

So this week one of the words was "naughty", and the picture was of a puppy chewing on a shoe. Corinne is certainly familiar (and quite delighted) with this word and its meaning, so she spent some extra time studying it thoughtfully. She then said "that doggie maybe ate all his dog food and then ate the shoe". We praised this original thought and then went on with the cards. A few minutes later we came to "noisy", which was represented by a man with a jackhammer. For some reason the man's head was not included in the picture, probably to not detract from the real focus, the noise. Once again Corinne studied the picture for a long time before concluding that "maybe that naughty doggie ate that dadda's head".

Awesome. That girl is 100% her mother's (and father's) daughter.

And then there was today's speech therapy session. The word was "sucker" and the pictorial representation for this rather humorous word was something to this effect:

Corinne got very excited and I expected her to say that she wanted that sucker or that we see those type of suckers at the candy store at "Dumma's beach home". Instead she said that she has a "boo-die sucker" upstairs in her room.

The therapist said, "oh, you have a birthday sucker?" and Corinne adamantly said no to this. She kept repeating "boo-die sucker". A game of 20 questions ensued. "You have something round like this?" ; "you have a birdie?"; "can you go get it and show us?". No, no and no. She began to cry with frustration so we quickly diverted her attention to something else. After the session I asked her about it again, the curiosity killing me at this point, and this time had her take me upstairs to show me. She went straight for her room, looked around for a minute, and then pulled open her dresser drawer but couldn't find what she was looking for. She then said "it's on the door" and "it's light blue". Suddenly I knew. I opened her closet door and retrieved from the bag with all her medicines and supplies, this item:

Her face lit up with excitement and relief that the connection was finally made. A boogie sucker. Jeeze momma, get with the program.

Strawberry rhubarb pie

2008-06-23T21:00:00.004-04:00

Five years ago when we moved into this house I got it into my head that we needed to plant rhubarb because I had memories from my childhood (I know, what a shocker) of having a couple plants in our backyard. Pete mocked me for this because, let's face it, rhubarb is kind of a pointless fruit (or I guess technically a vegetable). I swore that I'd make strawberry rhubarb pie with it, and for the next four years it grew and sprouted and rotted in the fall with nary a pie to be had. I'd forgotten about the part where I hate to cook. Well, damn it, this year I cut those stalks and made that strawberry rhubarb pie, and here's a picture to prove it.

Take that, Pete. You nay sayer!

Not so Loserish

2008-06-20T20:49:00.004-04:00

We had a funny flash rain storm this afternoon, the kind where the quality of light says that there just has to be a rainbow somewhere. I went outside and looked up in the sky to see if I could find one. Turns out it wasn't up in the sky, it was right in my own backyard. Boy, if that isn't some sort of a metaphor or symbolism or cliche or something, I don't know what is!

Safe

2008-06-17T10:11:00.005-04:00

One of Corinne's favorite play themes is of being safe. It started after we watched "A Bug's Life", where she took an instant fascination with the ants running and hiding in their ant hill to escape the evil grasshoppers. She likes to build "homes" for her animals. These can be out of blocks or legos or rocks (if you're lucky) or more difficult to work with mediums such as play-doh or sand or leaves. She is a demanding perfectionist of a foreman with a few non-negotiable requirements for these homes. They must have a roof, they must have no visible openings (i.e. windows) and they must have a door that can be closed completely. Once the home is built to her specifications (which often result in high levels of frustration on the part of everyone involved), she fills the home with her favorite animal friends du jour, declares that "so and so is nice and safe in here now", and squinks* herself silly. Then that's pretty much it for the game. The friends don't come out of the home and no one else is allowed in, no matter how much they knock. That feeling of safety is really all she was going for, and now she has attained that, she can just sit back and revel in it.

Well, the other day Denise, her service coordinator, playgroup aid, and developmental specialist extraordinaire was trying to build upon this theme a bit in the spirit of DIR/ Floortime, and asked Corinne what made her feel safe. Corinne responded enthusiastically and without even a moments hesitation, "Momma!"

Momma makes her feel safe. I mean, does this seem like a fairly abstract concept for a three year old? We all know that it's what is at the root of a young child's love for a parent, but how many kids actually realize this? I don't know, maybe it's just me thinking my kid is the smartest, most clever kid ever. Either way, it made my day.

* If you don't know what a squink is, you must not have met Corinne yet. Some call this type of behavior "posturing", "stimming", "flapping" or "stereotypic behavior". But Corinne, in her infinitely unique way, has her own version of it where she clenches both fists, arms rigid, and makes a strange facial grimace. She does it when she is very stimulated, excited or has accomplished something. She's been doing it since she was a baby, long before any diagnosis, which is when we gave it its innocent name. Squinking is so much a part of who she is that all her providers and doctors now refer to it as squinking also, like it is some sort of official medical term. We're kind of proud of that, in a strange sort of way, like maybe we should patent it.

Anniversary Reflections

2008-06-08T12:03:00.011-04:00

This weekend was our 6th wedding anniversary. Dumma and Dumpa were gracious enough to take our little darling for the weekend allowing us to celebrate in our usual way: Take-out sushi, cake and a movie. I know, not all that glamorous, but it's what we've done for the past 6 years and it suits us just fine. We could have gone out for the sushi, but we find that we enjoy it more when we can wear our fat pants, take our time eating (in Pete's case, anyway. He can linger over a few rolls for the entire duration of a movie. He likes to savor. Me, I use my hands to eat sushi and pretty much stuff it in as fast as I can chew), and then collapse on the couch in a food coma. In fact, we even have a unit of measure for how much one has eaten: "sushi-full", as in, "are you just full, or are you sushi full?" This term was coined after eating at an all you can eat sushi place off the strip in Vegas. We had planned to drive for two hours to our next camping destination but instead drove about 10 minutes from the city, pulled over on the side of the road and painfully crawled into the back of Groucho, moaning all the way, to sleep it off like a pride of lions after the kill. It was the fullest I have ever been.

Anyway, also a part of our anniversary tradition is to look through our wedding album while listening to our wedding CD and relive the event. It really was everything I'd always dreamed my wedding would be. We wanted it to be very unique, personalized, and memorable, and I think it was. Here's some things we'll never forget.

What a perfect spring day it was. Sunny and warm with a slight breeze- the Gods were smiling down on the Loser Family that day.
Our ceremony in a cemetary. It's not because we're ghoulish or anything. It's just that the town we lived in at the time had this beautiful chapel available for nondenominational weddings of 120 guests or so. And most importantly they allowed Seven on the premises to act in her roll as our flower puppy and ring bearer.
How amazing our string quartet sounded as they struck up those first few chords, and especially when they played Bach's "Air" as I came down the aisle.
Pete's brother's reading, a poem that he wrote himself, literally the morning of the wedding. We have a great picture of him at the chapel, pen and paper in hand, putting the final touches on it. It was about Pete's previous reluctance to committ and was unbelievably clever and funny, yet also very sweet.
Seven's stage fright during the ceremony. She forgot all the training we had done to have her pick up a basket and bring it up the aisle to us. Instead she ran up there in a submissive posture and planted a nice big paw print on the train of my dress as she hid behind us. After the ceremony she threw up (outside, thank God).
Crying like a baby when presenting a rose to each of our parents (who also cried like babies) to thank them for a job well done.
Having one of our groomsmen, Mark, help bustle up my dress with his giant contractor-grade hands because my dear sister, the maid of honor, was nowhere to be found.
mmmm, oyster bar
Trying to cut the cake for what felt like 20 minutes, not realizing that there was a layer of cardboard between the layers, while appropriately playing Blue Man Group's "Tension". No face smashing.
Our semi-choreographed first dance to the Beatles "When I'm Sixty Four"
Fulfilling my father's dream of dancing to "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof.
Pete's hilarious performance during the garter retrieval to the tune of Propellorhead's "Spy Break" (think James Bond action music)
My cousin Dan's girlfriend, Michele, and my cousin Eric's girlfriend, Mary, practically knocking each other down in their quest to catch the bouquet. Michele won, and was indeed the next one married. Come to think of it, groomsman Mark caught the garter and went on to meet his future wife within a month or two of the wedding.
Dancing, dancing, dancing. I'm normally not one for dancing, but never have I had so much energy to burn off. And it helps to have all your own handpicked songs, too. We gave our DJ some "must play" songs and then vowed that whenever they came on throughout the evening, we would pause long enough to take it all in and enjoy the moment, 'cause it really does all go by in a blur. My mom also earned the title of "Dancing Queen" that night.
My poor dad, so disappointed that the bar closed before he got a chance to do his toast (he is a bit of a procrastinator), which was lovely nonetheless.
Slow dancing alone in a mostly empty room for our last song, Tom Wait's "Little Trip to Heaven", and realizing that we're really, really married.
Walking back to our house (it was just a couple blocks away) at midnight in wedding gown and tux to pack for the honeymoon, and waving to the cars honking at us.
Thinking the next day that it was a good idea to eat the peanut butter torte that had sat out all day and night. I spent the first day of my honeymoon (and most of the plane ride there) puking my guts out with food poisoning. And when we got home I actually considered taking it out of the freezer and eating it again, on the off chance that the torte wasn't the culprit.

The best part of all, besides finally marrying my soul mate after six years of friendship and dating, was spending the best day of my life with family and friends. It is as close as I'll ever get to that little jar I mentioned previously, and my version of heaven on earth.

The Loser Book

2008-06-05T22:08:00.003-04:00

We actually have a book where we document our most Loser-ish experiences. Pete gave it to me as a Christmas gift one year in the early days of our relationship, before marriage or Corinne. The intro that he wrote for it goes something like this:

"The Loser Book- Dedicated to the good times when you get to laugh at someone else's expense. This book is devoted to recording the worst and stupidest moments in life. Whether dumb or just plain unlucky, it will have been recorded here. This book will be an ongoing legacy of the two dumbest and unlucky people on earth." He goes on to quote: "It takes a big man to cry. It takes a bigger man to laugh at him."

It's sort of like a competition, where the goal is to be featured in the book as little as possible. We have coined the phrase "that's one for the Loser Book" whenever the figurative anvil falls on someone's head. We also try to get a picture of the event and then the non-loser writes the entry. There's even a page at the end for keeping score. I won't say who is in the lead (we've gotten bad about keeping it updated the past few years), but suffice it to say we are both featured prominently, sometimes even as a not-so-dynamic duo. The picture at right is actually the award that we trade back and forth for being the Loser-du-jour. Anyway, I thought it might be amusing to include some of these entries in this blog (when I'm short on material like I am right now). I should also mention that, ironically, we lost the Loser Book for close to a year. I got "extra special super fantastic terrific mention for insisting that I had checked " 'that area' before" when we finally found it in a desk drawer. We both had to write "I promise not to lose the Loser Book" 100 times.

So just this past weekend we had a Loser Book-worthy incident. I shall call it:

"The Eyes Have It"

On our way to Ithaca for the above mentioned reunion, Pete was struck by the Loser arrow once again. We were driving in the Family Dorkster with Corinne in the back seat. She had been pretty good during the long drive, but was beginning to lose patience with being strapped in her car seat and was starting to become demanding. She wanted a drink of seltzer, and handed her sippy cup to Pete, who was in the passenger seat. There was a little bit of juice or something still in it so Pete wanted to dump the contents out the window. Given that the Family Dorkster was new (to us) and still nice and clean, Pete didn't want the juice to splatter all down the side of the van, so he leaned out a bit. I saw him scrambling and grabbing and assumed he had dropped the sippy cup. Turns out his glasses had flown off. We tried to find them (well, I tried. Pete was too blind without them to even be able to see the car, much less a pair of tiny wire rimmed glasses.) to no avail. They must have bounced into the grass and our search radius encompassed a half mile area due to my initial panic when he told me he lost them (instead of just stopping I chose to go to the next exit and turn around). I kept hoping that they might magnify and direct a ray of sunlight and set the grass around them on fire so I could find them (like in that episode of Little House on the Prairie where Mary and Adam get into a carriage accident on the way to... oh never mind. Nobody will get that obscure reference except Debbie). On the bright side I did see a deer drinking from a lovely babbling brook as I walked along the highway, so that was delightful. Also, twenty minutes later we passed an A&W with the little drive through stalls, so Pete was able to get a hot dog, which in his mind negated the entire unfortunate incident. Also lucky for Pete, I wear contacts and have an extra pair of glasses and we happen to have almost the exact same terrible vision (doesn't bode well for Corinne's vision), so he was able to make do with those for the weekend. And they aren't even too girlie. It would have been awesome if they had been tortoise shell and horn rimmed with rhinestones or something. It sucked for me because I had to wear my contacts for about sixteen hours a day, long past the point around 8 pm or so when I just want to gouge them out of my eyes for their dryness. I kept telling him to go to bed so I could have the glasses, which reminded me of Clash of the Titans, with the three blind witches who shared a single glass eye.

(Anyone with me on this one? No? Oh well.)

Along the lines of this most recent of Loser Incidences, there was the time that we were staying overnight at my mom's house for my Grandmother's 90th birthday party. I realized as I was taking my contacts out for the night that I had forgotten to bring a contact lens case, so I put them, with saline, into a small cup for the night. Come morning I went to put them back in and lo and behold, the cup was empty. It seems Pete woke up at some point, no doubt parched from too much alcohol consumption, and got himself a drink using my cup, which in hindsight I guess I shouldn't have left on the bathroom sink. He drank my eyesight. (For our wedding the following year one of my cousins sent me a twelve pack of contact lens cases.)

Are you starting to understand the whole "Loser Family" thing yet?

Homecoming

2008-06-01T18:22:00.012-04:00

This weekend was my five year... OK, my fifteen year... college reunion. Honestly, I feel like I just graduated 5 years ago. I know it's such a cliche, but it seems like just yesterday. Oh, don't get me wrong, I feel old. And there's definitely been a lot of proverbial water under the proverbial bridge since leaving Ithaca College in 1993. Little things like marriages and divorces and death and kids. It's just that emotionally and maturity-wise, I feel like I'm just out of college. I feel like the other parents I see are, like, grown-up, experienced parents, and Pete and I are poser parents; two people just kind of playing house and impersonating real adults.

I am the queen of nostalgia. In this regard, Pete and I are completely different. Pete lives in the here and now; he doesn't have a sentimental bone in his body. When his mom sold the family home of 20 some-odd-years, Pete said good riddance. Then there's me. We moved from my childhood home when I was in 10th grade and I still haven't gotten over it. It drives Pete crazy. Every time we go home (see- I still refer to the town I grew up in as home, even though I have lived in Massachusetts for the last 14 years) I want to drive through good ol' Robinhood Court, where Pete jokes that I had the world's most enchanted childhood of pine needle fort building and endless games of "pretend", and playing with my doll house and kitchen set way longer than I should have been (like in junior high). And whenever we drive though I lament about how much it has all changed and how you just can never go back. How the tree fort is now in someones back yard instead of buried deep in the woods, and how the pond is really nothing more than a puddle now (maybe that's all it ever was?) And how I don't approve of how many trees have been cut down, or that the "circle" (cul de sac) is now paved and has houses all the way around it. And how someday I'm going to buy my house back. Along with my grandparent's camp.

I just have such a hard time letting go. I want to keep the essence of everyone I've ever known (well, maybe just the good ones) and every place I've ever been in a little jar that I can take with me and open up whenever I want and relive everything down to the most minute detail (kind of like the penseive in Harry Potter). To me, that's what heaven will be. You get to go back and do all the best stuff again, and see all the people you knew, to go back to your old bedroom and pet your old dog and play "Star Wars" with your best friends until it gets dark and the fireflies come out and the parents start calling everyone home one by one.

I did have a really great childhood (except for high school, which I hold few fond memories of because, as you can probably surmise, I was a dork. And dorks just don't have a good time in high school.) My college years were even better. When I began in the fall of '89 I was a sheltered, naive, small town girl with a boyfriend back home and two best friends who I had known since I was five years old. I spent the first semester calling and writing home and just being homesick. But somewhere during those four years I changed. Things ended with the hometown boyfriend and I began to enjoy college life and being away from home. I found myself a core group of friends and those four years became some of the best in my life.

Going back to Ithaca always kicks my sentimental mode into overdrive. The drive there, with all the familiar landmarks I had forgotten about until I saw them again, the music of my college years, which I subjected my family to the entire way, the approach into town with the great view of the whole campus perched on the hill, and especially the campus itself (although, much like Robinhood Court, a lot has changed which of course bummed me out). It flooded me with memories and made me burst with excitement yet want to cry at the same time.

It was so great to see my "peeps" again. In college, much like in high school, I didn't have a ton of friends. But the friends that I did have were close ones. The gang was a few of us girls from school (Ithachicks) and a couple of misfit guys from Cornell, the neighboring school, along with some of their friends from Syracuse. It was a time of drinking and singing and grab-assing and frolicking (we actually called it that) and compiling a list of funny quotes, usually conceived while drinking, and then reusing those quotes ad nauseum and one upping each other with one liners and affectionate insults. I was "Red", one of the guys, able to hold her own with the best of them. Those friends helped shape who I am today. They gave me confidence and a sense of belonging.

After college, despite our best intentions, we drifted apart. We did pretty well at first. We got a place on the Cape for a week the first few summers and did some camping trips. And of course there were all the weddings. But we're spread out over four states and soon the kids started coming and it got harder to travel, harder to spare the limited vacation time from real jobs. They all attended, or were in, my wedding six years ago, and we did manage to come together for the ten year reunion, but then we all became incommunicado for the next five years. I'm so glad that we all managed to pull it together for this reunion, and while I won't say that nothing has changed, I still felt the same connection. And now there's the added bonus of seeing every one's kids. What a mind scrambler that is. It's so amazing to watch my friends, that irresponsible, immature bunch of misfits that we were, now being parents, and doing a pretty good job of it. What a great bunch of kids we've managed to create, and how very much like their parents they are in so many wonderful ways.

We all vowed to do a better job staying in touch from now on, and this blog is, in part, my commitment to do just that. We're planning to get together again in a year, maybe meeting somewhere in the middle for a long weekend, and I will personally make sure that happens because this group of people, for all that they are and all that they represent, mean the world to me.

The Ithachicks

The Ithakids

The Gang (most of them)

**************************************************************

There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed;
Some forever not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments,
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

"In my Life"- The Beatles

On Freedom, Mini Vans and Pigs

2008-05-26T15:56:00.007-04:00

This weekend was perfect. We were child-free for two glorious days. Granted, it required driving up to Maine (Vacationland) on Friday evening of Memorial Day weekend with a very irritable child yelling "I want Boohbah (her pacifier)" over and over much of the almost 2 1/2 hour drive that should only take 1 1/2hrs, but the end result was so worth it. We barely slowed the car down as we handed her off to grandma. In fact, we didn't even drive all the way to her house; we called her and grandpa (Corinne calls them Dumma and Dumpa, which just cracks me up) and had them meet us at our favorite Burger place for the exchange. We've been away from the little darling before, of course, even as long as five days when we went to Puerto Rico. But we've always had a big event like a wedding or a company party or a concert. It was just so blissfully relaxing being child free with no particular place to go. After gorging on the healthy dinner of burgers with blue cheese and cheese fries, we came home and watched a mindless movie. We tried to sleep in on Saturday but we were both awakened by my endless coughing from these damn allergies that I have for the first time this year (normally I would rant here about my theory of new species of plant pollens that are thriving due to global warming, but I'll spare you). We lounged around a bit and did not watch Mickey Mouse or Little Einsteins, thank you very much, and then went out to an uninterrupted and leisurely breakfast.

From there we shopped around for the aforementioned mini van (grumble, grumble). Not much to go into here other than to remark about how lackadaisical we were able to be. How inefficient and relaxed. No rushing home for nap time, or trying to work in a healthy lunch on the run. No diaper changes and snacks (I want a een cereal bar!) and sippy cups (Not wa! I want lem-ade! I want a duce-box) and more snacks (I want dandy!). We listened to our music, especially the completely offensive and inappropriate stuff (No! Not momma's music! I want you music!) And we took all day to make this rather expensive purchase, shopping around and doing our homework instead of the way it went down the time we dragged Corinne with us to buy a flat screen TV (to give you an idea, we were talked into buying exactly the opposite of what we had intended to buy, all the while listening to Corinne, covered in chocolate ice cream and up way past her bedtime, repeating "You all done! You doe home now!" until I wanted to rip my ears off my head, and me saying "you need to wait" and "I don't even care anymore, just pick one!". We ended up returning said TV two days later.)

From there we went to a movie. We didn't really care what we saw, just wanted the sheer pleasure of watching a movie in a theater. We ended up seeing Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. It was kind of silly, but then again I realized, when I went back to watch the series I loved so much as a teenager, that they kind of all were. Whole lotta suspension of disbelief required there!

Continuing on with our day of parental indulgences, we ate dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. We didn't even mind a wait and we didn't have to get our check with the food. We talked uninterrupted about, well, mostly Corinne and Pete's work, but there's just not much more to talk about in our lives right now. Pete doesn't really want to hear about the plot of that week's Little House re-runs or about how I scooped the whole yard of dog poop yesterday. At no point did we need to negotiate regarding how many more bites anyone needed to eat in order to be considered all done or to insist that anyone please use silverware to eat their mashed potatoes.

On Sunday we attended our annual Memorial Day tradition, "The Pig Roast". Some friends of Pete's family, Clarkie and Karen, have had this party every year for I think close to 30 years or so and we have attended the last 6 or 7. It really is an amazing spectacle.

First of all, there are usually close to 100 people at this party. Each family brings a side dish, appetizer or dessert, so as you can imagine, the food is bountiful. There's always a theme and the place is decorated accordingly, along with many of the guests. Some past themes we have participated in were Halloween, Mardi Gras, the Chinese Year of the Pig, the Millennium, Planes, Trains and Automobiles and this year, the Pig Olympics. I forgot to mention that the pig features prominently in this event. This couple really digs pigs. They literally have hundreds of pig gewgaws: statues, magnets, stuffed animals, signs, coffee mugs, lawn ornaments, you name it. I'm sure it started as a joke gift or two at Christmas and has taken on a life of its own. Pig items aren't exactly hard to come by (unlike Pete's favorite animal, the sloth). Clarkie and Karen are big time collectors. Their house is packed floor to ceiling with things they have collected (I think I'll save that for next year's post).

Also impressive is that the food is served buffet style on real plates with real silverware (100 people, may I remind you. I'd hate to have to do those dishes) and there's even a rumor that they re-use and therefore hand wash the plastic cups. And there's a lot of those: They have a fully stocked bar and 2 or 3 beers on tap in specially designed keg-orators. They also have their own salad bar. I mean like the kind you see in a restaurant, complete with sneeze guard. They have an outhouse, 4 or 5 tents, dozens of tables, and probably close to 100 chairs. All of these things belong to them. They are like their own private catering/ rental company. In fact, four years ago Pete and I hosted his brother's wedding in our backyard, and we got most of our supplies from Clarkie and Karen. They are my party-throwing idols.

Her shirt says: I may be little, but I'm big on the pig

I was going to include a picture of the actual roasted pig but I decided it may be offensive to some viewers and didn't want any PETA lunatics hunting me down. This is the cabana-like bar.

The famous salad bar. I wasn't kidding!

Round One

So as you can see, it was a perfect weekend. We got our little bubaloo back from Pete's mom at the pig roast, and we always appreciate her a little bit more having been away from her for a day or two. I suspect the feeling is mutual.

Goodbye, Dear Friend

2008-05-24T15:10:00.001-04:00

Today we said goodbye to a dear friend.

Groucho was (is! Not was! He's gone to a happy little car farm where he can run free in green fields!) a 1998 Mazda pickup truck. In the past few years his health had been failing. It was never anything major, just super-annoying little things. First his "door open" indicator and overhead dome light wouldn't turn off. We finally just pulled the fuse because it was such a pain to drive at night with the light on all the time. Then the fuel gauge went, so we had to use the mileage to determine when it was time to fill up on gas. Then the passenger side seat broke, so you couldn't access the extended cab backseat on that side. The doors would sometimes decide not to unlock, even with a key. The air conditioner stopped working. Then the lights on the dashboard began to go one by one, so you needed a flashlight to see your speed or odometer. Then those went as well, making it a moot point anyway. We had to just fill up with gas two times a week to be safe and just guess-timate how fast we were driving.

For all his annoying ailments, though, Groucho has taken us a lot of places. He's been cross-country twice for Pete and I and once with Pete's brother. He helped us move all our stuff from one apartment to another before we were married (around twenty trips- I don't recommend it. Just rent a U-Haul!) When the house my sister was living in burned down, miraculously sparing her small apartment in the back, Groucho was there to quickly move all her stuff out before the place was boarded up. He's hauled many a yard sale or "free at the curbside" treasure, or a refrigerator or couch for a friend in need. Many a night has been spent in his cap-covered bed; on camping trips, on nights when we were too cheap to get a real room, on nights when we just couldn't/ shouldn't drive... His cap was decorated with stickers and drawings from places like Carlsbad Caverns and the Roswell Museum in New Mexico, 3 Different National Parks in Utah, and the Barbed Wire Museum in Kansas, along with various assorted stickers of things like Ralph Wiggum and Australian Shepherds and our favorite bands. He was like a mobile scrapbook of where we'd been, an icon of sorts for who we were before we were parents, when we were just a young couple enjoying life on our own terms.

When Corinne came along Groucho became impractical because we couldn't safely put a car seat in him. Therefore we only had one car that we could use as a family. We decided that we would hang on as long as we could, but that the next time he developed a problem that was more than just annoying it would be time to say goodbye.

Well, that time came a week or so ago. Pete came home saying that the brakes were pretty much shot, making an awful grinding noise that was probably the rotor. Not a major repair, but a repair nonetheless. It was time to let go. Pete drove him just to and from the train station, feeling that the highway and hour-long commute into Boston was pushing it too much. Sensing that he was about to be cast aside Groucho decided to let his clutch go as well, making our decision that much easier.

The most tragic part of this story is that we replaced Groucho with...... a mini van. I know, yuck! Not cool. And this from me, the woman who fought tooth and nail against the purchase of our Subaru Forester (who is named "The Family Truckster") three years ago because I thought that was too "dorky and family car". My consolation at that time was "well, at least it's not a frigging mini van!" My, the times they are a changin'! Our rationale on why we chose the lamest car possible: the kid + the kid's stuff + the dog + the dog's stuff + the parents + the parent's stuff + traveling to Saratoga and Maine and Vermont and New York to visit family and friends + yard sales and curbside treasures still to be had + lugging my wares to various craft fairs = a big ol' mini van, sadly. Sigh. All I can think of is "This is not my beautiful car. This is not my beautiful life! How did I get here?"

As we cleaned Groucho out and said our final farewell, there was some mourning for the end of an era, the never-really-very-cool-but-at-least-kind-of-fun couple that once drove this vehicle. Now we move on and look ahead to new adventures with our daughter, who's becoming a pretty fun person herself. We may never sleep in the minivan or drive cross country (though I really do hope that we can do that again someday...), but I'm confident that when the time comes to turn in this car (who I've already named "The Family Dorkster" in my head), we'll look back fondly on the memories that we created in it, this time as a kind-of-fun family.

The Family Bed Experiment

2008-05-11T18:21:00.003-04:00

Last night we tried a little experiment. It failed.

Just a couple weeks ago we had a conversation about how it's kind of sad that Corinne can't/ won't/ doesn't sleep in bed with us. Not that we want her to do this every night, mind you. It's just that it would be nice, every once in awhile, for her to come padding down the hall, say from a nightmare or during a thunder storm, and we could all cuddle together, just Morgan Incorporated versus the world. She won't even get into bed with us for a few minutes on a Saturday morning for some good old fashioned tickle time. She just ain't into it. You can't even lie on her floor at night as she falls asleep or sit on her bedside. She barely sleeps in the car and never, even as a baby, crashes out on the floor or on the couch or anywhere but in her bed, alone. I think it's a sensory-overload issue She can't make herself shut down unless the conditions are just so, and having other people around doesn't help that.

Now we realize that the pros of this are obvious. You hear stories of kids making this a permanent habit, of couples who, voluntarily or otherwise, share their bed with one or more kids every night. And as it is we only have a full-sized bed that, frankly, neither of us has had a good night sleep in since the fun of spooning wore off (probably sometime about a month after our honeymoon). Then we have to deal with the cats and their inexplicable need to be on the bed, off the bed, on the bed, off the bed... a hundred times a night. And Seven, who wakes up several times a night panting loudly like she's been chasing frisbees for an hour. All these things have wreaked havoc on our sleep cycle as it is, without adding a new nocturnal visitor. But still, it would just be sweet, just once in awhile...

So the perfect opportunity presented itself this weekend while we were visiting my parents. We have the wonderful luxury of sleeping in a king-sized bed when we stay at my mom's, and my sister had decided to crash for the night, meaning she would sleep in Corinne's big-girl bed ( a twin). We decided to let Corinne fall asleep in our bed at her normal time. We would then slip quietly into bed with her when we were ready to sleep and voila!

All went according to plan initially. She was sound asleep (albeit sprawled across the width of the bed, but that was easily fixed), and remained that way for about an hour or two. Then I woke up to find her sitting bolt upright. "Me me have poo poos" Corinne informed me. And indeed she did. Messy diarrhea-like ones. This required the turning on of the light and the searching for diapers and wipes and the undressing and when all was said and done we were all quite wide awake. I read her a book and then we told her it was time for night-night. Easier said than done. For the next hour she read and sat up and lay down and tossed and turned. I would start to drift off and then she would proclaim loudly " hello momma, hello Dadda, hello you!" and "you awake now!" (she refers to herself as "you", and efforts to correct this turn into an exchange that resembles a three stooges "who's on first?" skit). Then she pretended her stuffed Shamu was crying as she kept bumping him into my face. Finally she quieted down and curled up next to me, but every time I opened my eyes, there she was staring at me, three inches away, "boo-bah" (her beloved pacifier) going a mile a minute, Lisa Simpson-style. Finally, finally she settled in, spooning with me as I had hoped she would, reminiscent of that baby I remember napping with post-nursing.

Around that time Dadda got the Jimmy Legs and couldn't stay in bed another second. I sympathize. Already my arm was falling asleep and I knew I would be lying awake, waiting for when I thought she was sleeping deeply enough that I could move without disturbing her. Well, Dadda got out of bed without issue and promptly bumped into Seven, who let out yelp like she had been cattle prodded. This, of course, woke everyone back up and so it began again. We finally admitted defeat and set up a lovely bedroom for her in the bathroom, making a bed out of couch cushions. This required another 20 minutes of baby-proofing the bathroom, getting the night light, white noise machine, books, drink and toys all set up for our little princess, and putting a sign on the door so that no one would enter the bathroom and wake her up once, God willing, she finally fell asleep again.

So there you have it- our botched attempt at a precious family moment. On the bright side we were treated to a laugh in the morning when I opened the bathroom door to find Corinne standing at the sink with all the tooth brushes in her mouth and 7 or 8 Little People all lined up in a neat row on the toilet seat. I hope she was able to sleep with all those people watching her.

A Beautiful Mind

2008-05-09T20:56:00.008-04:00

OK, back some more serious stuff.

Today was one of those days that I think I will always remember, and this time for a good reason.

But first I need to begin at the beginning. Or at least update you on what transpired in the months since I wrote the e-mails in the previous posts.

So we have an autistic daughter. Well, not really full-blown autistic, but I find it easier to tell people she's autistic than to explain PDD-NOS. Most people know what autism is, though in a somewhat stereotypical, Hollywood depicted kind of way. There are a few things that are the crux of the problem for Corinne. Namely she has a really hard time coping and self regulating. I read a book that described it so well as "life just overwhelms her". She's bombarded by sensory input; we all are, but most of us can focus on what is important and tune the rest out. Corinne is aware of every sound she hears in the room and outside. She sees the trees moving. She feels the chair she's sitting in and every itch on her body. On top of this she has what is called poor motor planning. She can't easily get her body to do what she wants it to do. She has to be taught and then practice things that come naturally to everyone else, things like jumping and climbing, playing with toys, manipulating small objects. Because she doesn't have good control of her body she has no confidence and gets easily stressed out. She spends a lot of time in defensive mode, always worried that she can't handle what is coming. Imagine, then, how scary other kids are for her. Loud and fast, they take things, they can knock her down; they're just unpredictable. Corinne likes predictability and likes to be in control. She likes the familiar and the ordered. Lining up toys is soothing to her. Looking at books allows her to escape. Knowing exactly what to expect is comforting. Strangers are intimidating. New situations are scary.
The problems with her motor planning have been responsible for a number of challenges for Corinne. The biggest and most glaring, the one that raised the biggest red flag for her pediatrician, was a significant speech delay. She never really babbled as a baby, beyond saying "Bah", which is a sound that if I never hear it again, it will be too soon! She picked up Momma and then Dadda and not much else. Her peers were speaking in full sentences and Corinne just emitted a series of agitated whiny sounds like "eh eh". However, she always seemed to have a good understanding of what people said to her, beyond what was typical for her age level.

You can see why she was such an unhappy baby. Easily scared and stressed, unable to trust her own body and lacking in confidence, understanding but being unable to communicate, it must have been hell for her.

We taught her some sign language and that helped. She built up quite a vocabulary of words to help her get what she needed: more, all done, eat, drink, help, play, and a bunch of random animals. As the year went on we added more and more hours of Early Intervention services and added a second agency to help with her treatment. She ultimately had 20 hours of therapy, including speech, occupational therapy, horseback riding, aquatherapy (swimming), and something called DIR/Floortime, which is "intensive animated play where the adult follows the child's lead but uses high emotion and other techniques to obtain the child's social attention. The goal is to keep the child engaged with the adult in more sustained and complex ways, and be able to generalize these skills to other adult and eventually children." We refer to this collective group of therapists as "Team Corinne". There have been close to a dozen of them, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart when I say that these people saved us. We'll never know how Corinne may have turned out without all the hours of patient work these women gave her, but I know how she did turn out with it. I'm thrilled to be able to report that now, at 2 years and 9 months old, Corinne is a different child. In the last 2 months she broke through whatever barrier was in the way of her talking, and the phrase that has been used to describe this is an "explosion of speech". She went from a dozen or less words to full sentences in a period of less than two weeks. And with the speech came the confidence in herself. And the ability to say why she was scared or unhappy. And the ability to tell us what she wants or doesn't like. She's discovered the sheer pleasure in interacting with people, how much fun it can be and how satisfying to be understood. And she is forming relationships with the adults in her life, like her therapists and her grandparents. She is excited to see them and she remembers things about them that were fun for her. Do I need to tell you what this feels like for Pete and I? I doubt I do. Let me just say that a year ago we feared she may never speak or form meaningful relationships. We thought we'd never be able to do what others families could do: camping trips, amusement parks, birthday parties. And now we can.

Is she cured? No, definitely not. She still doesn't like other kids. She's really hard to understand (we call her language "Corinnese"). She only makes eye contact maybe 30% of the time and she still gets upset pretty easily. But she's happy and that's what we wanted more than anything. She a happy, silly, unbelievably smart little girl. She's exactly what we dreamed of in a child and so much more.

So why was today so special? Sorry- a little more background first. Basically what happens in three months when Corinne turns three is her services with Early Intervention end, and the city school system takes over. Preparing for this is called "Transitioning", which involves meetings with her current and future providers, forms to fill out, tours to take, evaluations to be done, and ultimately an IEP, or Individual Education Plan. This will spell out exactly which services she will receive, how often, where, and with whom. Because Corinne has a diagnosis "on the spectrum", she needs as many hours a week of therapy services as possible. She will most likely be enrolled in a full-day, integrated (half "typical" kids and half special needs) preschool program at the local elementary school. The fact that she will be going to school 6 hours a day, four days a week is a topic for a future post and one I'm sure I will be freaking out about as September draws nearer, so I won't get into that right now.

So today was a combination speech and general cognitive/ academic level evaluation done by a special ed teacher and a speech therapist. I was nervous about this, not sure if I'd be able to be in the room or not, not sure if Corinne would be in the mood to cooperate or not, not sure if the evaluators would get an accurate picture of this complex little girl of ours. I needn't have worried.

The testing began in a small office of cubicles. I mention this because it could have been a disaster. So many distractions, voices of other kids close by, a strange new environment, the uncertainty of what was to happen to her; all potentially troublesome things for a kid with sensory processing issues.

They started with a lot of the basics. There were so many different things I can barely remember them all. They had her point to colors, shapes, letters, numbers, and pictures. She drew lines and circles, stacked blocks, sorted like-things, imitated fine motor skills and gross motor sequences. They had her point to pictures to determine if she knew opposites and genders and pronouns and animals and big vs. little, up vs. down, under, on top of, behind and around. They literally tag teamed her with question after question, picture after picture, list after list. It was tiring just to watch and she did great. This was not her first evaluation but it was the most intensive and thorough. Halfway through it they told me that they had only been planning to do one particular test but they decided to do additional tests because she was more advanced than they had anticipated. Much more. The test is grouped by skills appropriate to age level. When a child misses I think it was seven in a row, it is determined that that is the age level that the child is functioning at. For example, maybe at a 3 year old level for gross motor skills but at a two year old level for speech. Well with Corinne they finally stopped at a five year old level for cognitive skills, and that was only because she was getting tired.

I was on cloud nine leaving the evaluation. It was all I could do to wait until we got home to call dadda. Talk about some serious parental bragging rights! We had always suspected that she was smart but let's face it, every parent thinks their kid is smart. Well, now we know for sure. Our child is smart, like really smart. It's just so exciting, after all we've gone through, to be able to look forward to what the future will bring. We still don't know just how smart she is, but now we can look forward to her being able to read and write and do well in school. And that can lead to her ability to have a job and a meaningful, independent life. It's more than we ever could have hoped for. I am so proud of my special little sweet pea.

Baby Kleenex Head

2008-05-05T13:57:00.001-04:00

This is Baby Kleenex Head. She is my all time favorite... I don't even know what to call her. She was given to me by my friend Mark. He found her in his garage. She is a functioning kleenex box holder that someone actually made. Someone thought, "Hey, you know what would be a great bathroom accessory? A kleenex box holder with a face and hair! Yes, let me sit down and take the time to make this thing because surely someone will have a bathroom that this just fits perfectly into." And then this person went on to choose the creepiest doll face they could find. I love her smug smile, as though she knows something you don't know. I had her on my desk in my last two jobs, you know, just to keep it real. She is now displayed proudly in The Room.

The Ultimate Yankee Swap Gift

2008-05-04T14:23:00.003-04:00

This is an item that I won in a Yankee swap. Believe it or not, I swapped a case of beer for this because it was jut too priceless. I mean, it's got everything you could need. It's a bouquet of flowers. It's a scene of the last supper. And best of all, it's an actual working lamp. As the Kool Aid guy would say, "Oh Yeah!"

The Tick

2008-05-03T14:45:00.002-04:00

This lovable guy was a promotional item for a flea and tick preventative at a veterinary hopsital that I worked at. The office manager wasn't crazy about displaying him in the waiting room and was going to throw him away. Now he creeps people out in our house, instead. Seven has had ticks on her that aren't much smaller than this one.

Pete's Teeth

2008-05-02T14:16:00.003-04:00

This is a plaster cast of Pete's teeth, prior to extensive orthodontic work. I don't even know what more to say about them, other than to point out how reminiscent they are of the scene in Return of the Jedi when Han Solo is frozen and encased in carbonite.

The Room

2008-05-01T11:28:00.008-04:00

OK, that's it for the trip down e-mail memory lane. I thought it was time for a light-hearted posting, so I present to you:

"The Play Room"

The Play Room has had a number of different names in the 5 years that we have lived in this house. Over the years we have collected a number of different items that just caught our fancy. Once people caught on that we were "into this sort of thing", people also began giving us things that they spotted that made them "think of you two". Thusly, our collection has grown to the point where it now requires its own room. Unfortunately for guests of our home, this is also our guest bedroom. I suspect people must have some interesting dreams while sleeping in there. We know that the day will come when we outgrow having a whole room like this, and we will have to pack it all up to store but never dispose of. Please do not get any ideas and send us more things. We are already out of room and are both too sentimental (or pack-rattish) to part with a single thing.)

The majority of our small treasures are housed on this set of shelves. I will be featuring some of my favorites in upcoming posts. Of note here: the paint-by-number of Jesus painted by my grandmother, also featuring a car stick-on that says: "Got Jesus?"

Here's where our lucky house guests sleep (or not), watched over by our mannequin that we saved from the trash, minus her hands, in Brooklyn while visiting a friend. They must share the bed with "Suckie", our giant stuffed cat fish.

Here is the wall of magnets (we painted the whole thing with magnetic paint). The cow painting on the door we picked up at a yard sale for free. The woman couldn't believe anyone wanted it (her son painted it). The skull on the other door glows in the dark.

Needless to say, we need to keep the door to this room closed so Miss Corinne can't come in and have a field day in there. We also keep it closed so people who may not yet know this side of us don't wander in on their way to the bathroom. It's definitely the kind of thing that could be a bit of a put-off, ya know? And here I am, sharing it with all of you. Mostly because you either already know we're freaks cleverly disguised as parents/ professionals, or you'll just never meet me, anyway, so who cares.

Trouble Bubbling Over

2007-02-08T20:41:00.003-05:00

This is from an email I wrote to family and friends back in February of 2007. Corinne was 6 months old.

Hi everyone,

Remember me? I am the person formally known as "A", now known only as "Corinne's Mom" (and sometimes "Corinne's bitch"). Seriously, sometimes I feel like that is my only identity, since there are days where it seems like every waking moment is spent either feeding Corinne, entertaining Corinne, cleaning up after Corinne or being concerned about Corinne (more on that later). I have free time today only because Corinne is sick today, and is taking a good long nap. Is it wrong of me to enjoy this? Either way, it will probably take me 3 weeks to complete and send this email. The problem is, when she's napping there are about two thousand things I want or need to do. I don't even like wasting 20 minutes of nap time to take a shower and get dressed, so I've started doing that while she's awake, which means that I now shower with a toddler and a dozen or so tub toys while standing in a tepid pool of what I hope is only shower run off and not pee pee.

I haven't written in so long, I feel like I need to bring people up to speed. Many of you already know all this, but I included you anyway because: Tag, you're it!, Ha ha, now it's your turn to write!

The mural business has been steady, although has moved into the realm of toy boxes, growth charts and other small wooden things. So far most of my clientele have been my friends, but I am starting to get business from some of their friends, too. It's never going to pay the bills, sadly. I was discouraged to quote someone $120 for three painted totes (toy boxes) that I know will take me about a week and a half to do, which comes out to less than minimum wage per hour. Or I can babysit for one day and make the same thing.

Babysitting is the other thing I've been doing. I watch a set of twins who are a little over a year old, one or two days a week. We know them from our playgroup. Taking care of not one but three infants is a challenge, to say the least. (Anyone remember that the person formally known as A also hated kids prior to a mere couple of years ago? At least once a day I look at my life, my house full of toys and baby stuff, my social calender of play dates and cookie baking for the local valentine's day party, my new talent for making my voice sound just like Elmo, and I ask myself "this is not my beautiful life! How did I get here?!") Anyway, the twins are both really good babies, which only makes Corinne's less-than-sweet behavior that much more evident.

The other big thing in our lives right now, for those who don't know, is that Corinne is now enrolled in an Early Intervention program. I could write a novel on why (and no, dad, I'm not going to write a book, so stop asking!), but to summarize, my little angel has some coping and social issues. She's also not using as many words as she should be for her age, but that's less of a concern for us. I think she's just a "late bloomer". The behavioral issues are tough, though, I won't lie to you. Corinne doesn't like lots of things. Things like strange people (not necessarily abnormal at this age, except that this includes pretty much everyone who isn't Pete or I, and some days even Pete is questionable). She especially does not like other kids. If another child comes too close to the "Corinne-personal-space" zone, she bugs out, crying uncontrollably (hey, did I mention that I babysit a set of twins?! ?!). She also has a number of bizarre phobias. It started with beach balls, and then expanded to include rain coats, flags, her winter coat, her shoes, some of her sweaters... I could go on. She usually overcomes the fear after a couple days, but then something else takes it's place. Right now she is terrified of loofah sponges (the meshy kind you use in the shower). Go figure. On top of that, she tends to develop obsessions over other things. For along time it was balls (that one is finally waning), books (seems like a good thing, but it's a wee bit "Rain Man" the way she can flip through book after book after book). So she's a bit of a challenge, to say the least. Some days she is so much fun and so rewarding, and she makes me laugh every day. Other days she just whines and goes from activity to activity, spending about 30 seconds on each one, like she just can't find anything to make her happy. Those days are very, very hard. She has not been officially diagnosed with anything yet, and hopefully she won't be. Hopefully she's just quirky, but the what-ifs can certainly keep you up at night (things like ADD, and autism, for example). I got Pete a book called "The Highly Sensitive Child" and it does seem to describe her to a tee. Some kids, it seems, just have trouble with Sensory Processing, where for whatever reason life just kind of overwhelms them. We both think this is Corinne's issue. Now we just need to figure out how to deal with it.

I think I'm telling you all this so you understand why I wrote so regularly until right about when Corinne came along, and then I fell off the face of the Earth. Raising Corinne is now just a full time job, it's like working two jobs just to make ends meet. Right now I can't imagine how she'll ever go off to preschool and be away from me with other kids all around her. That's what Early Intervention is for. We're working on teaching her how to interact with other people and to make eye contact (something else she doesn't really do) and to start making other sounds besides "Bah!", which was all she said all day long, usually in a very annoyed sounding tone, since she turned one in August until just recently. She now says momma, which is wonderful and music to my ears, and daddah, and Bye (which she says when people come over, about 2 minutes after they get here, like "hey, sorry you can't stay. Ba Bye!") She gets a little better all the time, and mostly I feel optimistic, but sometimes I compare her to other kids her age who are developing "normally" and I get a case of the "why me's, why our baby?" I just wish someone could tell us that she'll be just fine and perfectly normal by the time she's 3 or 10 or as an adult. Then I wouldn't worry so much. But then I see something on TV about babies with cancer or other horrible health problems and I know we are so lucky.

Sorry to be so "heavy". Guess I just needed to vent a bit. Really, overall our lives are wonderful and I don't mean to sound otherwise. I actually started to write this just to jump in on the television discussion (we watch Lost and Survivor, and American Idol is a bit of a guilty pleasure for me). I was thinking how ridiculous it was that I haven't written for months and then I weigh in on TV, of all things. But then this Corinne thing just kind of took over, and 30 minutes and a "Fred-length" email later and here we are. If you've read this far, thanks for listening! And I wrote the whole thing in one sitting! And she's still asleep! (Should I go make sure she's still alive? No! I won't! Just enjoy it, A, and stop obsessing. The scariest thing is how much of ourselves Pete and I see in some of her quirkier behaviors. Poor kid, she never stood a chance!)

OK, on that note I'm signing off. I apologize for any typos. It really does scare me that I can't type a coherent sentence anymore, when I use to write for a living. It's like my brain is atrophying from lack of use. I feel like that book "Flowers for Algernon".

Anyway, there's laundry and dishes and projects to be done. I will try to write more often; it does feel good to be incommunicado again. I'll keep everyone posted and hopefully this too shall pass. I have this fantasy where I say "and then we found out that Corinne's problem was __ and so we did __ and now look at her! You'd never believe how she use to be! And that was a mere __ months ago!! " Oh well, a mom can dream.
Ba Bye for now,
A

Two months later, in April, Corinne was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder- Not Otherwise Specified (PDD-NOS). I like to think of it as "Autism-Lite". She's not full-blown autistic, but shows many of the characteristics of autism. It's funny because I was very aware, as most parents were in this time of rising autism rates, of the "warning signs", but I don't know. I must have been in denial or I didn't have a good comparison or I was picturing Rainman or something. We just thought she was "intense". Rereading this email now, it seems so obvious to me.

That Which Doesn't Kill Us

2007-02-04T22:43:00.001-05:00

An e-mail to my best friend, written in Feb of 2007. There's so much I could write regarding those first few months of 2007. I feel that this email kind of sums it up.

Hi chickie,

I know, it's been too long since we chatted. It's been a really bad couple of weeks for us. It started with Corinne being sick and just absolutely miserable and whiny and not eating. Then, last Friday she had her 18 month check-up, which was awful. First off, she is still just 21 pounds and now in the 10th percentile for weight. It may just be because she barely ate for a week, but the doctor wants her back in a month for a re-weigh to make sure she is gaining. Then she had to get two vaccines which has literally traumatized her. She was so upset by it that it took us three days just to get the band-aids off, and now she gets hysterical when you take her top off or even if she sees her bare arms. On top of that, she had blood drawn which just made it worse. They wanted to test her for allergies to milk, soy and gluten, based on what I was telling the doctor. We also have an appointment with a pediatric gastrointerlolgist to rule out intestinal issues. The results on all the bloodwork were negative, so now we don't know.

The biggest news and dark spot in our lives right now is that her pediatrician also told me at the appointment that she thinks Corinne may be autistic and wants to have her evaluated by a pediatric neurosurgeon. Pete and I have talked about this possibility for a few months now, but something about hearing it from the doctor was just devastating. I came home and cried for about two hours. It has been such an emotional rollercoaster this past week, coming to terms with it all. Some days I think she is and some days I almost convince myself that she's not. Her case worker, Laura, for Early Intervention, seemed surprised by the pediatrician's suspiscion, and she works with a number of autistic kids. She pointed out a few of the ways that Corinne has been improving just in the past month. But she can't legally give a diagnosis, or even her opinion, really. I want to think that she has a better handle on Corinne's behavior, since she has spent an hour a week with her for the past 6 weeks, but I just don't know. My mom came last weekend and Corinne was just awful with her. She wouldn't go near her, not even to read a book. She'd take food from her, but kind of like a wild animal. She'd grab it and back away. If my mother made a move toward her she'd shake her head and make her "no" whine. The third day she finally sat in my mother's lap to read a bedtime story, something she use to do willingly with anyone, but she was still whary or her. It was heartbreaking. I felt bad for my mom and also so hopeless and frustrated. In many ways she is getting better, but in some ways she's getting worse. Pete and I went to dinner last night (left her with a babysitter who said Corinne would have nothing to do with her) and talked about it a lot and we both believe in our hearts that she is autistic. Maybe low on the spectrum, but we have felt since she was about 5 months old that she was different from other kids; that something just wasn't right with her. So now we're in limbo. Her appointment for assessment isn't until June 4th. I have her on the waiting list, but I guess that long of a wait is pretty typical. Pretty nerve wracking when you're talking about a disease that is best dealt with the earlier the better.

So that's basically been our entire world for the past week. I feel like I'm going through the stages of grief. Right now I'm in the anger stage. Why us? Autism is now seen in 1 in 150 kids. I don't even know 150 kids, so why did mine have to have it? Pete and I have had to really re-evaluate our plans for our family, and change our expectations for the future. For one thing, we are not going to have any more babies, something that we had been planning to try for in the spring. This gene pool needs to be shut down. I couldn't deal with two autistic kids, or even a healthy, normal one along with Corinne and her demands and needs, which may very well get worse.

Once again, sorry to be so depressing. Overall we're doing OK and coming to terms with it and hoping for the best. On the bright side, she has been great this week. Just happy and silly and overall in a great mood, so that gives us hope that even if she is autistic, she may still be able to lead a relatively normal life. And we may as well.

OK, almost time to put my angel to bed and unwind with Pete. We're trying to make relaxing a priority, especially for poor Pete who is also having a very stressful time at work, on top of everything else. That which doesn't kill us...

Talk to you soon,
A

Loser Family Goes on Vacation

2006-03-20T21:17:00.003-05:00

The following is an e-mail I wrote to family and friends back in March of 2006. I feel that this story (all true) really sums up who we are as a family and gives you the first taste of why my blog is named as it is.

Hello everyone,

It's been a long time since I've written. There hasn't been much to write about other than the highs and lows that are new parenthood. But now I have a funny little tale to tell. I shall call it "Loser Family Goes on Vacation".

Some of you may know that the Loser Family was planning a trip to sunny Florida to visit Grandma and Grandpa (Pete's mom) in the Orlando area. There would be sun and fun and Universal Studios and free babysitting and eating out and shopping all the things you so look forward to in a vacation. Our only hurdle was the 3+ hour plane ride and a certain baby with a 15 minute attention span. I won't bore you with all the details of the planning that went into figuring out how to foil Loser Family Incorporated's newest employee into being a good baby, namely by sleeping the entire flight. Suffice it to say that this had been a very big concern, as Corinne and mama didn't have such a good experience on the one hour flight back from Philadelphia. That's why we booked a flight for 8 pm, well into her bed time. It bears mentioning here that Pete (the Brains of the Operation), who receives the highest ratings in his reviews at work for being so organized, didn't think to call his dad and ask about a ride to the airport until the day before we were to leave. Well, his dad had plans and couldn't do it. No problem. I went to the website to check on airport parking- eight bucks a day. Not too bad. I decided to check on our flight for shits and giggles and oops, what's this? It is delayed an hour. Pete and I wondered aloud how they could know a day in advance that the flight would be delayed, but hey, whatever. We're flexible.

Saturday, everything was going marvelously according to plan. Seven had been dropped off at a friend's house, the bags were packed with everything we could possibly think of that we might need, and best of all Miss Corinne had been in a stellar mood all day. We were flying out of Manchester Airport in New Hampshire. We had been told that it was a much easier airport to deal with than Logan in Boston. We had been there once or twice before to pick up Pete's dad. We were flying on Southwest, which we have been told does the seating on a first come, first served basis. We wanted to try to get front row seats so that we could keep Corinne in her car seat on the floor in front of us. It was her best chance of sleeping through. So we left our house at exactly 6 pm, three hours before the flight was to depart to make sure we'd get first dibs on the primo seats. We figured it would take us an hour to get there. As we were pulling out of the driveway, I asked Pete if he remembered how to get here, because I didn't. Pete said he did. He was oh so confident. He said to take 495 to 95 to just past Portsmouth NH. It was right near the Red Hook Brewery, where he had gone for his bachelor party. He made a point to say to NOT take rt. 93. Okey dokey. And away we went. Spirits were high.

We stopped at Mc Donalds to pee and get a snack. Pete got not one but THREE state quarters and they were even Nevada, which he didn't have yet. What a good omen, he exclaimed. Indeed. At 7:30 we arrived at the airport. It took us a little longer than planned but we were still doing OK. The funny thing was, the airport appeared to be closed. As in, the lights were off and the doors were locked. A security guard pulled up just then and we learned that this was not Manchester airport. I think it was an airforce base, or a private airport. Anyhow, Manchester was 50 minutes away. Five Oh. Fifty. We jumped back into the car and hauled ass out of there and the only thing I said to Pete was "I'm going to kill you". It was the most stressful 50 minutes ever, as I drove as fast as I safely could (a speeding ticket certainly wouldn't help our situation, nor would a second accident this month). As we got closer we began to formulate our game plan because time was now of the essence and everything needed to come together perfectly if this was going to work at all. I would drop Pete off at the terminal with the luggage and the base to the car seat, which we would need if we wanted to take Corinne in any cars. Pete would stuff the base into his suitcase to minimize the amount of things we'd be lugging around. I would then take our sleeping baby and our carry-on luggage and park the car.

We got to the correct airport at exactly 8:15. Definitely cutting it close for our 8:50 flight, but it was still do-able. I dumped Pete off and headed to the parking lot. Except that I couldn't find the longterm parking. There were 4 lots and all were full except one, which was far enough away that a shuttle ride was required. And I couldn't find it. I ended up leaving the airport (with my unsecured baby, because remember, Pete had the base). I did an illegal U-turn and headed back. I'm now getting quite distraught and the minutes are ticking by. And Corinne has miraculously sensed my anxiety and is now awake and crying. Well, I found the lot and pulled in just as the shuttle was leaving. Excellent. I parked the car and contemplated just running to the terminal with Corinne in the stroller. Except that the terminal wasn't all that close, it was dark, there were no sidewalks and no one around. Oh, and I couldn't get the stroller opened up, which resulted in a meltdown on my part, accompanied by one on Corinne's part. So I lugged her in her carseat, the carry on bag and the $^&$*#@(& unopened stroller to the shuttle stop to await the next shuttle. Corinne apparently didn't appreciate being handled like luggage and was screaming bloody murder. Am I painting a clear picture yet? I don't think I've ever been as stressed out in my entire life. Me, who hates to be late to anything. I waited all of about one minute before I panicked. It was probably about 8:30 by then, and I still had to get to the terminal and go through security. I called Pete on my cell phone, which I at least had had the presence of mind to bring. Let me back up a bit here and tell you what Pete was simultaneously going through.

Upon getting out of the car Pete quickly learned that the car seat base was not going to fit into his suitcase. He emptied the entire thing and stuffed all his stuff into my suitcase, which was already bulging with my stuff (what woman travels lightly, after all?) and Corinne's "jumpie", her favorite and rather large toy that we don't leave home without. Even then, Pete still couldn't zip the suitcase with the base in it so he had to settle for just snapping the clips, all the while ignoring the two security guards who were laughing at him. He then ran into the terminal, which he immediately noticed was eerily empty. He ran up to the counter and presented his flight paperwork. The woman looked at this, then at him, and said "honey, that flight left at 7:53". What? Does not compute. 7:53? That was the original flight time. Pete tried to explain to this obviously insane woman that the flight was delayed an hour. It said so on the website. The Internet doesn't lie. She looked it up and yes, sure enough, our flight had left some time ago. She could put us on a flight tomorrow at 11:30 am but, oops- you guys bought the super cheapo tickets and there would be a mere price difference of $250. That is $250 apiece. So let's get this straight. We could pay an extra $500 and lose an entire day of our already only 4 day vacation. It was over. Our vacation was ruined.

So when I called Pete from my personal hell in the parking lot shuttle pickup, he broke the news to me that our flight had already left. "No it hasn't- we still have at least ten minutes! The Internet said 8:50!" I screamed. "What? I'm up way past my bedtime and haven't eaten yet tonight and am out in the cold in the middle of this empty parking lot and was driven around in an unsecured car seat for NOTHING?!" Corinne screamed. So I lugged the still screaming Corinne, the carry on, and the unopened stroller back to the car. Got in. Got back out to get the parking ticket and my money out of the carry on bag. Got charged $2 for my miserable ten minutes in the parking lot. Couldn't find my wallet. Corinne screaming all the while. Thought about arguing the charge but couldn't on account of having lost my will to live and all. Picked a very dejected Pete up at the terminal. Said something to the effect of "We're good people, aren't we? Was I Hitler in another life or something?" Fed Corinne her long overdue bottle as Pete drove to the first place we could find to get out and regroup (a Barnes and Noble), where we had hot chocolate and talked about how our first family vacation had been ruined.

Pete holds himself 99% at fault for his unwarranted confidence that he knew exactly where the airport was (yes, he knew where an airport was, it just wasn't the airport we were supposed to leave from), that had we gone to the correct airport we still would have made it, even with the mistaken lack of delay. The 1% is my fault, for ever leaving Pete in charge of directions. I personally don't blame Pete. I don't see anything to gain by pointing fingers. We went home (it only took 45 minutes to get home via rt 93- the final injustice of the whole evening) and there you have it. That was our vacation. Yay! Pete took today off but is headed back to work tomorrow where he will undoubtedly have to explain over and over to everyone why he is at work and not in sunny Florida. Corinne and I are thinking of going to the Disney Store. That's almost as good, right? So "Loser Couple" has officially become "Loser Family".

Poor Corinne. What did she do to deserve being born into this?

Loser Family Vacation Photos

But it says right here...!

Who needs Disney when we've got Sam's Club?!?!

I'm learning to just make the best of what I've got.

What a bunch of Losers!

Trouble Brewing- The Emergence of Evil Corinne

2006-01-23T21:20:00.001-05:00

An email written to family and friends when Corinne was 6 months old. The pictures I referred to were a series of about 20 photos, each and every one depicting Corinne screaming, crying, or both. Sadly, despite the optimism in the latter part of the e-mail, the era of Evil Corinne was just beginning.

Hi everyone,

Hopefully you all got the last batch of Corinne pictures, which I feel pretty much speak for themselves. First let me start off by saying that she has been 1000% better for the past week, which is why I am now able to calmly sit and write about this with somewhat of a sense of humor. Prior to that I was most definitely not laughing because I sincerely thought that this screaming, humorless, perpetually unhappy banshee was going to be the permanent personality of my demon-spawn daughter. I couldn't remember what it was like to have a nice baby. We uttered phrases like "why did we have kids?!?!" and "are you KIDDING me?!?!" and "you are SO going to be an only child!" and "F--- this!!!" It was definitely the lowest point for me in the 6 months of her existence so far. It started some time after the holidays without warning or obvious cause. She was utterly, positively unbearable. She just cried and cried and screamed and nothing made her happy for long. Her attention span for all those great toys she got for Christmas was all of 10 minutes. Once we had cycled through all the baby stations I was at a loss. She wasn't happy being held for very long either. And the most frustrating thing was that you could tell that she wasn't in pain- she was just PISSED OFF. She has this horrible angry sounding temper tantrum thing that she does where she loses her voice and her face gets all red and her veins in her little bald head all pop out. She is SO stubborn (just like her father- ha ha!). She went to the doctor because we thought she had an ear infection but no, that wasn't it either. We told ourselves that she must be teething because we needed to believe that such behavior had to have a really good reason behind it, and that there would eventually be a light at the end of the tunnel. In retrospect I'm not sure that that was the cause, as she still doesn't have any teeth. I think she was in a downward spiral of overtiredness that had become self-perpetuating. I also think we weren't feeding her enough. We had started her on solids (cereal and we were just getting to vegetables), so it could be that her digestive system wasn't ready. We did it by the book, introducing one new food at a time and giving it a few days to make sure she had no allergic reaction. We still can't say for sure that allergies aren't the problem. To be sure, we cut off all solids all together last weekend and went without for a whole week. The improvement started immediately, but it could be a coincidence or other variables (As people of science we didn't approach this very scientifically. Far too many variables going on at once). I also started feeding her more breast milk and formula to compensate and I started putting her down for a nap after two hours of awake time whether she seemed tired or not. This combination seems to have done the trick because the difference in her demeanor is like night and day. She has started taking longer naps, up to 2 hours, a couple times a day, instead of the "20 minute specials" that she had formerly been a fan of. She also started waking earlier (as early as 6am), but the pay off is that she sleeps through the night. Most importantly, she is my sweet baby again. She smiles and laughs (sometimes- she still kind of has the personality of the little girl from the Addams family- is it Wednesday Addams?) and plays with her toys and can actually amuse herself for short periods of time. I have slowly started her back on cereal again today and am cautiously optimistic. Believe me, I thought long and hard about never feeding her solids, not wanting to do anything to tip the delicate balance that is "Good Corinne". But I figured at some point child services would be after me for neglect and malnutrition if my teenage child had never had anything to eat except formula. Anyway, so far so good. KNOCK ON WOOD!

I feel like there's not much else to report on other than that. It really has been all encompassing in our lives this month. I guess the biggest news is that I am trying to start my own mural painting business. I already have a client. I met a woman at a M*** Family event who was looking for someone to paint a mural for her daughter who is a month older than Corinne (this turned out to be S@L, who became a good friend in the year before she moved to California). I guess she surfed the web and couldn't find anyone in our area (can you say "untapped market?! Especially in the very well-to-do neighboring towns) I am going to do a castle/ dragon/ gnome/ fairy kind of theme and am getting $1000 for it- yay! If I can make a go of this I won't need to go back to real work. It would be my dream come true. I am hoping to put together a web site (does anyone have any advice? I know absolutely nothing about this!) and some fliers to give out at the many family events that the M***** Family Association puts on. I'm calling myself "Bouncing Off the Walls", which is pretty clever, if I do say so myself! I'm very excited for it and hope I can actually make a living doing something I love.

Corinne and I are flying to Philadelphia to visit my friend Diane and her daughter (who is 1 1/2) next month. I hope I am not tempting the fates taking her on a plane. At least it's only an hour or so flight, in case she cries the whole way (tell that to the people around me- God, I'll be THAT mother!). This is kind of practice for when we fly to Florida in March to visit Pete's mom and go to Universal (a 3 1/2 hour flight- God help us!) Also Pete is going to New Orleans for a conference in the spring (it was planned before the hurricane. I guess the French Quarter is OK for the most part). I have the option of going with him, but we'll see. New Orleans is not really a baby's town, ya know what I mean? And I don't feel right leaving her for 4 or 5 days yet- she's still too young and too needy, not that there's any shortage of willing and able grandparents to babysit.

Some of the aforementioned photos:

Good times, people!

Whole Lotta Poop Talk- Baby Update (2 1/2 months old)

2005-10-22T21:13:00.003-04:00

An e-mail to family and friends, written when Corinne was 2 1/2 months old. My favorite part is how I signed it.

Hi all,

Well, this would be the second time that I am writing this email. I am so frustrated. Last Wednesday Pete took the baby to the mall (to buy my birthday presents) and I had a glorious 2 1/2 hours to myself. I thought, what shall I do with this rare and wonderful opportunity? Why, I think I will email my beloved family and friends. It's been on my To Do list for weeks. So I sat down and spent a good hour typing it out, choosing to miss Little House on the Prairie, of which I am a closet fan of, and never get to watch when Pete is around because he makes fun of it the whole time. I hit send and the log-in window popped up for no particular reason. I logged in and blip! The email was gone. I prayed it went through anyway but no such luck. I had to add "Email family and friends" back onto my to do list. One step forward, one step back. So this email is probably not going to be as interesting, creative or insightful as the original, or at least I'll tell you that and you'll never know if you missed the world's best email or not.

Speaking of one step forward, one step back, Corinne is doing pretty well. That really does sum up new parenthood. You think you've got yourself a nice little routine, even "a schedule" and you think, I've got the hang of this parenting thing! I know what to expect on any given day! Look at me being a mom- I'm a pro at this. Then the baby slaps you back into reality. Babies don't want to be predictable. They think you may get bored with them so they decide to do funny things like stop pooping on a daily basis. Instead they poop every other day, and when they do, they go so much that it explodes out of their diaper up their back, down their legs, you name it. You thank God that you were at home and not in the car or at Babies R Us or worse- out on a walk with baby in that wraparound snuggly carrier thingie. Then you notice that baby poops at exactly 2:15 every other day, so you plan your day around that diaper change- clothes off ahead of time, fresh, non urine saturated diaper for maximum poopie absorbability, paper towels ready (baby wipes are not enough to clean up the 2 gallons of poopie that comes out). Then baby poops at 10:30 instead, in a new outfit that she's never worn before, and boy does baby poop stain if you don't get it rinsed immediately. So now diaper changing also involves laundry washing, and sometimes a bath, too. One time I managed to extricate the outfit without mishap, only to have her pee all over herself while her diaper was off, which has become Corinne's MO. At least bath time has become more bearable. Corinne hated bath time for the first 11 weeks. She acted like we were washing her in hydrochloric acid, followed by a brisk rub down with the barbed wire towel. She screamed much harder during bath time than she did for her first set of vaccinations, which consisted of four rapid-fire needle jabs, one in each limb. It really is the very definition of "screaming bloody murder". I'm always afraid the police are going to knock on the door to look into a report of child abuse. So one day we decided to video tape this spectacle so we can laugh about later, when she grows up to be a quiet, demure young lady (don't see that happening!). Always one step ahead of us, Corinne decided that now bath time is OK, even mildly amusing. Oh well. She may have won the battle, but I think we won the war on that one.

Corinne and Seven are developing an interesting relationship. Corinne finds the texture of Seven's fur to be quite overstimulating. If we lay her down on Seven she grabs her fur and goes crazy. She makes these funny yelling noises and starts flailing around. Seven's goal is to lick Corinne's tonsils at every available opportunity. She is smart enough to know that this is most easily done when the baby is crying, thereby adding fuel to the fire. Quid pro quo, Corinne also likes to lick Seven's fur. It's pretty gross all around. Seven is adjusting pretty well to this invasion to her little world, overall. She comes and gets me if Corinne is crying downstairs and I am upstairs (like every time I try to go to the bathroom), not that I can't hear her loud and clear on my own, mind you. We have noticed that Seven seems to be showing her age for the first time, though. She's becoming an old dog, I'm sad to say. She's starting to slow down a lot and gets tired faster. She also has old dog farts.

On the work-front, I officially put in my notice last week. Pete, Corinne, Seven and I went to Ogunquit Maine for a few days and my boss called three times while we were away. Turns out she's quitting, too, which made giving my notice much easier. A vet and one of the vet techs quit, too. Way to go H****- they're dropping like flies. Of course they don't see it as a problem within the department- they blame the "industry" companies for stealing people away. Couldn't possibly be a problem with their archaic operational structure of such a prestigious institution. Anyway, within a half hour my bosses boss called me to "bounce some ideas off of me about the possibility working part time". Hmm, does anyone recall how I asked about working part time about 6 months ago and was given a resounding "no way- can't be done" by this very same man? Now suddenly we're thinking of hiring a training manager (dangling carrot, anyone?) to oversee the new trainers that we'll be hiring and surely the coordination of said training could be done on a part time basis. I told him that I was not prepared to return to work right now, both because I don't have day care lined up and because I am simply not emotionally ready to put Corinne in day care right now. Frankly, she's way to high maintenance and demanding. She would need one staff member devoted just to her to cater to her every whim and need like I do. She is a demanding, unreasonable, ungrateful boss and I just don't think anyone could put up with it like her devoted parents do. Well, Big Boss said they'd wait until Spring, when I had mentioned to my boss that I would have to go back to work by due to our money running out. I left it pretty open ended and non-committal. It's not my first choice to return there, but it is nice to have something to fall back on if need be.

Pete's work is going pretty well. He's working on a paper that will be published in a trade magazine for our field. I am very proud of him. He'll be happy to be done with it, though. He's co-writing it with another supervisor who has not been overly helpful with it, and their deadline for this second round of edits is next week.

We're having a Halloween party next weekend, so we're looking forward to that. Halloween is our favorite. Pete wants to build a coffin for Corinne to sleep in during the party. He's a sick, sick man. OK, I think I repeated most of what was in my original email and anything I forgot must not have been that important anyway. I saved this one to drafts several times, which seems to have wreaked havoc with my spacing for some reason, so I apologize for that. #$%^&* computer! I'll write again when I have something to talk about.

Love A,

Corinne's personal servant and court jester

(True to his word, here's a photo of said coffin. And yeah, that's a tombstone she's next to. We made one for each family member, including Seven. Hey, I warned you that we love the inappropriate!)