My little pumpkin...

Photos were taken with a Kodak CD83 and edited using SnapSeed application on the iPhone. I don't think I'm fancy, just wanted folks to know what was possible with a really basic digital camera and a free iPhone app.

Your hippy rant for the month...

So, I'm getting sick of always apologizing for not blogging. For one, the person I'm really apologizing to is myself, and a public apology is therefore not only self-indulgent but also kind of creepy, and for two, why do I feel the need to put made-up pressure on myself and stress out about (let's be realistic) an online diary?

To be fair, this is the same person who in the 7th grade tried to psyche out her diary...

Actual excerpt from the Yuppy Hippy's Diary, circa June 1997:

"Dear Diary,

In two weeks I will be getting contacts.

NOT!!!!!!!!!!!

I got them today!"

Yup. That happened.

So, anyhoo, the reason I haven't been blogging is I went to NY for another wedding (a week-long adventure), then came home for a week of dealing with a cranky, doesn't-want-to-travel-anymore baby before going to the Outerbanks for a big family vacation and then coming home with the sniffles to an also sick husband and two dogs who were convinced we would never come home.

Also, I really don't want to talk about Dodge and I feel like that is supposed to be the next logical post. So, skipping the mandatory "Why we are putting Dodge up for adoption and what kind of horrible human being I am" post, let's move onto my second favorite subject to ramble on about to The Husband late at night....


"Up All Night."

You know...the new television series with Christina Applegate and Will Arnett. And Maya Rudolph. How do you get a cast like that and manage to screw it up so badly!?!?!

For one, the characters are such a weird jumble of cliches...and they're mostly opposing ideas. So the parents were supposed to be these awesome cool party people who found themselves thrust into parenting and all of a sudden don't know how to be cool anymore? Yet, they've managed to go out drinking and partying on more than one occasion while parenting a 6-month-old...which I think puts them squarely in the "still hip" category. (My category, as I like to call it.)

Oh, and the father character is wicked dorky? Was he always wicked dorky or did this suddenly happen when his sperm made contact with the egg? If he was always wicked dorky, then why are they shown to be such a hip and happening party couple in the opening credits? How come he has to act all weird around the surfer guy if only 10 months ago, he was perfectly capable of hanging out with cool people?! And if Applegate's character is so bitchin', why did she drive like a 1995 BMW?!?!!

I don't mind when a television show or movie stretches the elements of truth to make something funnier or more exciting...but it's like they don't even care which cliches they throw on these characters so long as some of it sticks. The new parent gags have all been overdone, so has the "clueless rich person" character that Arnett is so super-awesome at playing...why can't they focus on the whole "stay-at-home" dad thing and Applegate's working-mom conundrum??

Aside from their personalities, their careers/lifestyle are also a crazy mix. So, they're well-off, but need to haggle on the price of a car, but the former-lawyer-husband-father character doesn't know how to haggle even though he was at one time a pretty sneaky lawyer? Why can't they keep the old crappy BMW and still purchase the kid-friendly SUV? (And, c'mon, that should have been a minivan. SUVs are still wicked awesome. Amiright?!?! Where all my Subaru Outback owners at?!)

(To throw in a thumbs up, I will say Arnett's trip to the supermarket -- the one where he purchases fancy cheese because he cannot find the regular cheeses -- did ring true to me. The Husband is CONSTANTLY bringing home "fancy" dijon mustard in a glass 3-ounce bottle because he can't find the regular, squeeze-me-out-of-an-upside-down-plastic-container condiment" aisle.)

But don't get me started on the "Ava" character. What kind of level of famous television personality is she? They've clearly got some Oprah/Ricki Lake undertones going on...but her level of celebrity allows her to be hunted down for autographs in the parking lot and outside storefronts, yet anonymous enough to get drunk and take the stage at a drag queen cover band show? And she's best friends with her producer?! Where are all her famous friends? Oy vey.

But probably the tipping point was this week's episode which showed our empowered, well-researched protagonist preparing for a natural birth (with an 18-page birth plan -- that punchline actually worked on me)... but we leave her in the Labor & Delivery room all loopy on an epidural and listening to a young, male doctor tell her the baby's head is too big for a vaginal delivery.

Wow. Way to screw over American women everywhere who are constantly being told their bodies are somehow unable or ill-equipped to birth their babies. I hate to go all Hippy-Earth-Mother on you, dear readers, but this really got to me. You won't find a better example of how media plays into the notion that a 33 percent c-section rate is acceptable (and totally normal) and using an epidural to manage pain is an expected part of the process. (I won't even get into how many women are advised to use pitocin to "speed" up their labors -- never mind the undue stress it might cause the baby and themselves.)

It just sucks that this is the qualified medical advice we are not only given in the hospital, but also via societal pressures. Booo. Why couldn't they show the hilarious aspects of a natural birth? You know, complete with the swearing mother who squeezes the blood out of her partner's hand and then turns are mushy/gooey/lovey dovey when the disgustingly bloody/bodily-fluid-covered baby is placed on her chest? Why not show her try a million different positions while the poor husband fills up a birthing tub that doesn't get used because she can't stand the idea of water?

I mean, you don't have to glorify this whole hippy movement I seem to be a part of, but at least give American women an IDEA of what it might be like to have a baby without being strapped to an IV and told that having an epidural and then pitocin and then a c-section is the "rite of passage" women have been experiencing for hundreds of years.

In transit...

Chasing mermaids at Norfolk Airport

Chasing Starbucks at JFK

Scarf trend = convenient nursing cover trend

You don't want to know how disgustingly sticky this carpet is...

But always happier to be on the move

10 Questions for a Rainy Day

1. If you could throw any kind of party, what would it be like and what would it be for? Uhhh, easy one: It would be awesome and it would be for the Sons of Anarchy season finale. A viewing party of sorts, with everyone dressed up as bikers. It would start in the early afternoon with BBQ, corn hole, lots of beers, and kids running all over. It would be one of those family-friendly biker parties, y'know? 
2. If you could paint a picture of any scenery you’ve seen before, what would you paint? Venice. The main channel when you first taxi in, with those gorgeous buildings reflected in the green water and a gondolier floating along a young couple, the woman wearing a red sundress, and a man in a business suit steering a larger boat. 
3. If you could choose to stay a certain age forever, what age would it be? Oh, I suppose 27, although I'm pretty excited to see what 30 is like. 
4. If you knew the world was ending in 2012, what would you do differently? Spend more money, I guess. Oh, and work on my time machine.
5. If you could learn to do anything, what would it be? I desperately need someone to teach me how to use a sewing machine. Like, soon. For the sake of all my houseguests who have to duck down below our windows every time they want to change a shirt because I am too stubborn to buy curtains when I have extra cloth material and a perfectly good sewing machine in the closet.
6. If you had to work on only one project for the next year, what would it be? Is my son considered a "project"? I'd like to devote a lot of time to blogging. Or making another baby. It really depends on how this word "project" is being used...
7. If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would you meet? Oscar Wilde. No, that's a knee-jerk reaction to the question. I think....James MacAvoy. No, he's too short, it would kill the fantasy. Is this just for a handshake or do I get a conversation?? How about...Angelina Jolie. Let's be honest. It was always going to be Angelina. 
8. If you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would do? Call a lawyer?? I think I need to devote more time to this question, because my older brother has a very detailed plan for this very occasion. And it does not include calling family. :/
9. If you were reincarnated as an animal/drink/ice cream flavor, what would it be? A penguin. No explanation needed. 
10. If you could be any fictional character, who would you choose? It's a toss-up between Elizabeth Bennett of "Pride & Prejudice" and Rogue from "The Uncanny X-Men" series. (NOT the silly movie-version of Rogue that is popular now.) Elizabeth has a much happier life/disposition, though, so I guess....Final Answer: Liz Bennett.

Brunette to blonde in 60 seconds...

The last song at our wedding...

We live on front porches and swing life away

We get by just fine here on minimum wage

If love is a labor, I'll slave 'til the end

I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand...

A few of my firmly-held beliefs:

•  That almost any movie can be improved by adding the phrase “Based on a True Story" before the beginning credits. Doubt me? Try it. It even makes "Freaky Friday" bearable. 
• That my self-esteem has greatly benefitted from my decision to have only one full-length mirror in my house. And to display that full-length mirror at a very generous “skinny view” tilt.
• That it’s perfectly okay if we consider the Coca Cola glasses from McDonald’s as part of our “fancy” set.
• That you need at least three children before purchasing those family stick figure window decals.
• That the people who are so upset at “big government sticking their noses in everyone’s business” are the same people who block intersections, tailgate, and cut in line to drop off their kids at school. Y’know, basically the very reason our country needs a political system to set a minimum wage and provide benefits for the sick and poor. Sad.
• That you should have to provide a (legitimate) definition along with any word you play in Scrabble.
• That more than anything – yes, even love – dogs need exercise.
• That if it’s the thought that counts, I am the world’s best gift-giver.

Love it, Hate it, Need it, Steal it: Baby Gear

A collection of brief okay, kind of longish reviews on products we’ve purchased for Little Guy.

LOVE IT

Baby products I would wholeheartedly (and whole-wallet-ly) recommend to friends, family, and Beyonce if she ever asked me.

Fisher-Price Booster Seat, MSRP $29.99: It is beyond me why Fisher-Price would manufacture a high-chair alternative that is SMALLER than their “space saver” brand booster seat. But whatever, maybe I just don’t understand consumer politics. At any rate, this seat is by far the better deal. For $29.99 (or $23.99 if you’re like me and willing to purchase the less-popular color option), you get an extremely compact booster seat that is both functional and comfortable. The two trays fit easily into the dishwasher at the same time, and it currently fits my smallish-sized 6-month-old with no wiggle room (trust me, you don’t want wiggle room when you are trying to chase a baby-sized mouth with a baby-sized spoon), and lots of growing room. I wish I had seen this version, with a toy set instead of the extra tray, because quite honestly, you only need one tray if you’re willing to do some scrubbing between meals and if we had this a few months ago, the toy bar would have made this a very appealing alternative to the Bumbo/Summer Infant seat (see way down below).

California Baby Calming Shampoo and Body Wash, MSRP $8.99 and up: Definitely get the pump bottle version of this Made in the U.S.A. shampoo and body wash with lots of natural ingredients. Smells so good you'll want a bottle for your shower, too.

Shea Moisture Organic Raw Shea Chamomile Argan Oil Baby Healing Lotion, MSRP $9.99: Another Made in the U.S.A. baby (mama?!) care product. Chock full of ingredients you're actually familiar with (no more sodium laurate clausedimate!) so won’t feel guilt-stricken if your baby starts to gnaw on his hands just as soon as you’ve finished lotioning him up.

Eurobath, MSRP $39.99: I skipped over all the fancy colors and accessory options and went with the tub that had the best online reviews. This is a very simple, very functional tub that has served us very well from the 2 week mark all the way to 6 months, and I imagine will carry us all the way until Little Guy is ready to sit in the regular tub. (After the bathroom remodel?!?!) You can pair it with the Munchkin Foam Bath Cradle (pictured above) for the first few months to keep baby comfy and in place.

Dear Tropical Storm Lee,

You are totally crushing on my goals today.

Boo. The swim portion of The Nation's Triathlon has been cancelled this weekend due to rising/fast-moving waters. Trying hard to stay positive and consider my $400 in registration fees for this year and last as a generous donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Definitely a deserving charity.

In other news...does anyone have an Olympic-distance tri to recommend in the southern VA/northern NC area? Need to put my new toy to good use...

Where do you find the time!?

I'm going to use that loathsome phrase "mommy blogger," but there's no other way to make this rant:

Where do these mommy bloggers find the time?!

I thought I had hit my stride at the four-month mark, but there really is just no time. No time for coffee sipping. No time for reading. No time for writing. No time for a leisurely jog around the lake. No time for the newspaper. No time for changing your outfit six times before you leave the house. 

Unless it's coffee gulping. Or reading to the baby. Or writing out a "honey-do" list. Or jogging the baby around the house. Or clipping coupons from the newspaper. Or changing the baby's outfit six times before you leave the house.

Le sigh. 

I just don't understand how these mommy bloggers blog. There is NO TIME. It's kind of like how you look around at the other couples in your life and you wonder how they all have nicer cars or nicer houses or nicer furniture or nicer appliances or nicer vacations or nicer clothes and you think, HOW?! There is NO MONEY.

When that question was the predominant one in my life (before it had been replaced with, "WHERE IS ALL THE TIME COMING FROM?!), I sat down and made a list of all our expenses and created a budget for the month. So, likewise, when the question of TIME started to occupy all the space in my brain that wasn't already devoted to finding time to change the baby and read to the baby and play with the baby, I decided to make a list of how we spend our time and create a "budget" for the day. Without further ado, I give you, the TIME BUDGET:

Anna Karenina

The 2011 Library has finally picked up again after a few half-hearted attempts to read some "chick lit" books failed miserably. My mistake was in thinking that a piece of lighter fare would be easier to handle now that I have to squeeze in reading sessions during naps and jumperoo exercises. Turns out, I needed a challenging novel to entice me back into that "up until 3 a.m. with a flashlight under the covers" habit of reading.

And so, a sincere спасибо to Tolstoy. Anna Karenina is amazing. I'm continually astounded at not just the level of detail or the depth of understanding given  to such a diverse group of characters -- but by the feeling he shows for all of it. Everything is so carefully and delicately worded. Nothing is skimmed over -- but it's done in a way that you don't even fully realize how amazing it is until you've earmarked your page and had a moment to sit and think with your thumb still shut in between the pages.

A few passages that still have me reeling:

"Oh no," said the countess, taking her hand. "I could go all around the world with you and never be bored. You are one of those delightful women in whose company it's sweet to be silent as well as to talk."

Umm...I want to BE that type of woman!  Seriously...just perfectly described!

"The raging tempest rushed whistling between the wheels of the carriages, about the scaffolding, and around the corner of the station."

Holy alliteration, Batman! This is the type of sentence that causes me to really fall in love with an author -- and in this case, a translator.

"It's really ludicrous; her object is doing good; she's a Christian, yet she's always angry; and she always has enemies, and always enemies in the name of Christianity and doing good."

I'm always astounded when an author is able to transcend time so wonderfully. And this is obviously not the only or best example in Anna Karenina. It's actually a rather insignificant thought of Anna Karenina's about an unimportant character -- it just feels so modern; it could have been lifted from a contemporary novel. But it's definitely not. It's an understanding of humanity and ability to write so well that it surpasses not only decades, but cultures, languages, etc. Kind of blows the mind.

And all of this just to say that I'm so glad I picked this book up at the library. I still need chick-lit books, because those are the kinds of literature that remind me that I still want to write when I grow up. But books like this, ohhhh, books like this are why I adore reading in the first place. 

So спасибо, Tolstoy. I can't believe it took me this long to get around to reading this masterpiece in the first place.

Heavy

It's been a rough weekend. The only way I can think to describe it is to say that I feel very heavy.

Little Guy is napping right now, but when he wakes we are going to The Samaritan House (http://www.samaritanhouseva.org/) to donate a few things; namely, his bouncer and some outfits he outgrew before he had a chance to wear.

You know, it's funny. Mr. Zookeeper and I used to joke that my body's ideal state of being was while I was pregnant. This is because unlike most pregnant women, I didn't experience any wild surge of hormones. In fact, my moods were improved by pregnancy. And after I had the baby, I was still really even keeled. Perhaps the most level I've ever been. I didn't have any of those hour-long crying jags, or panic attacks, or onslaught of over-protective-mama-bearness that you hear about or see exaggerated in the movies.

But a few weeks ago, when I was returning some books to the library, I noticed a sign posted on the entrance wall. Perhaps you've seen it around town before. Its a simple graphic of a woman holding a child and it says "Safe Place."

It hit me hard. I stared at the sign, and then in the rear view mirror -- where I could see Little Guy calmly chewing on his fist in the car seat -- and then collapsed into tears. At the time, I couldn't imagine a world where we didn't feel safe. It destroyed me to think that some mother out there -- even just one mother -- lives in that world.

It's a heavy feeling. This weekend made it even more real. There are too many women who live in this world; whether through poverty, or domestic violence, or tragedy. And now I just hope that by giving a little back, I can feel a little lighter.

You lean on me, and I'll lean on you.

For the bride-to-be...

So wedding season 2011 doesn't begin until August (for me, at least). But when it hits, it hits hard. I have three weddings to attend in a seven-week period, all of which I am serving as an attendant, and then a fourth a month or so later. And with all of this marital bliss comes the prerequisite showers and bachelorette parties and calls for advice to the bride-to-be.

And so, dear readers, I've been feeling rather nostalgic these past few weeks. Thinking back to my own wedding, our engagement, and the few years preceding those events of getting to know each other, becoming a couple, renting our first apartment, renting our second apartment, renting our third apartment, adopting two cats, renting our fourth apartment, buying a house, adopting two dogs, having a baby... And building a life zoo together, in general, over the last seven years.

Which brings to mind my single most important piece of advice for any woman in a long-term relationship of any kind:

Say what's on your mind.

I spent the first five years of my relationship giving the silent treatment or otherwise sulking when I was upset (which wasn't very often, I should add). It's a familiar scene in our daily lives: The woman who refuses to offer anything more than "Nothing," or "Do what you want. I don't care." And all the while, she is silently seething and spewing venom with her eyes. It could last for hours, or I could stretch it out over a number of days, before it finally erupted into a huge burst of pent-up nags, complaints, criticisms (not the constructive kind) and other types of nastiness.

I'm not sure exactly when or how, but one morning it suddenly dawned on me that no matter how long I kept this up, Mr. Zookeeper was never going to be a mind reader. Even if I was really, really good at the sulking part. Turns out, his ESP skillz are completely non-existent. And my guess is your boyfriend/husband/best friend/lover/life partner/running buddy/hairdresser/dog is similarly lacking in the mind reading department.

So, if something is bothering you, why not save yourself five hours (or days) of forehead wrinkles and eye rolls and just tell the person you love what's up. In today's technology-driven world, you can even text them. And who doesn't welcome the challenge to whittle a nag down to 140 characters or less?

One more thing: Once you've aired out your grievances, why not do your guy (or gal) a favor and let them know how to fix it? No sense in building a dog house without a door, eh?

No Words Wednesday

A word of advice...

I had to nurse Little Guy in the breastfeeding room of the Naval Hospital the other day. (All is still not well with my lady parts, I'm afraid, so we have twice-a-week appointments there.) And, like the other few times I've had to use that room, I met another Nosy Nelly friendly mother who had advice for me.

Here's the thing: I don't mind free advice. In fact, some of the tactics that work best with our fussy/colicky/gassy/tortured devil spawn son came from other parents. (And even a few non-parents, like Pammy!) I'm all about soaking up as much knowledge as possible, so spit it at me, I say.

But, please, please, please, for the love of God, don't patronize me by pretending to be my baby speaking to me. This has to be that ring of hell that Dante forgot to mention: Listening to a middle-aged woman use baby talk as a passive aggressive method for making you feel lousy about yourself.  "Awwww, mommy, if you'd paweeeeze just hit my back harder, I'm sure I wouldn't be so fussy wussy."

Listen, lady, besides already explaining to you that my baby burped better on my knee -- and yes, I understand he was screaming bloody murder at the time and not exactly giving me a vote of confidence -- but your advice is not any more appealing coming in a wittle bittle impression of an itty bitty baaaaaby. Speak like a normal adult human being and then I won't have to second guess your own parenting abilities.

And if your baby hasn't experienced digestive pains like these, please step to the side. Unless you've been down this path, which included at least one 3-hour screaming session for a single fart, you really can't know what it's like to try seventeen different burping positions before finding the one that works for your baby. Saying, "I always burped my kids like that and they never had any problems," does not, in fact, make you knowledgeable on the subject.

Also annoying: That Little Guy has seen four different pediatricians who all insist his digestive issues are completely within the normal spectrum, but every mother who has heard him scream through a bowel movement insists "that's not right." Can't someone meet me in the middle here?!

Ohhh, now I get it...

I thought I understood the biology and mechanics of pregnancy and childbirth, but now I *really* get it: 


1.) All of those middle-of-the-night trips to the bathroom during the last few months of pregnancy had nothing to do with the size of your bladder. No, that was simply the brain holding an REM-cycle Boot Camp to prepare for 10 p.m., midnight, 2 a.m., 4 a.m., and 6 a.m. breastfeeding sessions. 


2.) The real reason it hurts so badly to go to the bathroom after having a baby has little to do with the muscles used during childbirth. Oh no, this is simply to build up empathy and sympathy for your little one, who will also cry and scream when going #2. My advice? Bring your baby into the bathroom and face each other. Misery loves company; especially on the toilet.


3.) You're not waiting six weeks to have sex  because your body needs time to recover. You are waiting six weeks to have sex because your husband will need time to lower his expectations of your post-baby body -- and it helps to have the ten-minute performance shortened to two for your first few times back in the saddle.


4.) You thought the long nine month wait to meet your little bundle of joy was necessary for your body to create a new life inside its own. But really its just nature's way of preparing your friends and family for the long nine month wait for you to finally mail out the birth announcements. 


5.) All that heartburn you experienced while your kid was growing hair in the womb? It's nothing compared to the way your heart will twinge every time you lift your little man out of bed and find a trail of his hairs behind as he rubs his head bald. In fact, I find I miss the taste of the chalky candy pieces that are Tums.


And now, my photographic apology for the two-month absence. 

No Words Wednesday

May your song always be sung...

Well, my plans to sit down and write a letter to Little Guy to mark his first month were overreaching, to say the least. I'm hoping to finish up a week-by-week summary for Saturday, but in the meantime, I thought I'd share the few songs I find myself singing over and over again to him as he nurses, sleeps, or fusses.


"Forever Young," Audra May and the Forest Rangers.

Of course we have to use the Sons of Anarchy video. I might not be able to get out on my bike this summer, but I'm not ready to put it up on Craigslist just yet either. Little Guy needs to know he has a Motorcycle Mama.

No Words Wednesday

The labor story...

So, I figure I owe you all the birth story. It's fairly long, so feel free to skim and just pick-up the highlights. 

Ok, so at my 38 week appointment, my midwife offered to strip my membranes. She was pretty enthusiastic about it, too, which is kind of crazy because most medical caregivers won't consider any sort of intervention -- even a mild and safe form like membrane stripping -- until 39 weeks. (Full-term for babies is 37 weeks, but due dates can be off by up to two weeks.) (Also, a note about membrane stripping -- I made a clicky link above, but the short version is that membrane stripping is a process where the midwife or doctor uses his/her fingers to gently separate/lift your bag of waters from sitting on the uterus. If the woman's body is ready, and the baby, too, it can stimulate labor. If not, it pretty much doesn't do anything except maybe give you some cramps. It takes about 15 seconds, and it's fairly uncomfortable, but not awful. I'd do it again.)

A lot of women are sick and tired of being pregnant by the time they hit 37 weeks, which is why my midwife offered to strip them at that appointment, but I was actually pretty comfortable. I really didn't want to deal with any sort of intervention, but Mr. Zookeeper's schedule was presenting a bit of a problem. He was going to be home from Friday, February 25 until March 7, then he was taking off for a six-week trip out of state. My due date was March 4, but I had a feeling I would go late (most first time moms do). So, I told the midwife I would let her strip my membranes. I figured we would strip them on Friday, February 25 (at my regular appt) and then again on Monday and Wednesday of the next week. That way, we would probably gently ease my body into labor by my due date. I honestly did not think it would work on the first try -- I was just way too comfortable and I didn't have very many signs of impending labor.

I was wrong. 

No Words Wednesday

Kiss the Cook

Yesterday I did the shopping, and today I’m tying on the apron. It’s time to get serious about cooking and freezing some meals for when Our Little Guy or Gal arrives.

Our menu:

• Skillet Shrimp and Sausage
• Chicken and Dumplings
• Beef and Cheddar Pot Pie
• Turkey Tortilla Casserole
• Meaty Moussaka
• Chicken Enchiladas
• Lasagna

The total grocery bill for all ingredients (not including basics like flour, olive oil, etc.) was $145.81. I didn’t use any coupons, only the rewards card at Food Lion, because I didn’t plan the meals around any specials. I’m hoping to have more structure (and more nutritional data) to our meal planning in the future, but this is a start for now.

This afternoon, I whipped up the Turkey Tortilla Casserole and the Meaty Moussaka.

I think tomorrow I'll try to get the Chicken Enchiladas, Lasagna and Beef Cheddar Pot Pie finished. 

In other news, my midwife is going to strip my membranes tomorrow in the hopes that we might be able to pop this kid out while Mr. Zookeeper is home next week. I'm only vaguely optimistic about the whole procedure because Our Little Guy or Gal seems pretty cozy at the moment, but it shouldn't hurt to try. Also, one week of being a Stay at Home Wife is enough to convince me I'm ready to add the "Mommy" title to my new gig. 


Almost forgot, pictures of the audience from my cooking show this afternoon:

No Words Wednesday

2011 Library

What I've read: 
The Swan Thieves, Elizabeth Kostova: Eh, the characters and writing weren't really my style. Neither was the plot come to think of it. It wasn't difficult to "force" myself to finish it, just not really enjoyable. Not exactly the best way to kick off 2011's Library. Oh well. 













The Neverending Story, Michael Ende: This all transpired because Mr. Zookeeper and I were discussing baby names and I suggested "Fiona," which he claimed was the "princess's name from The Neverending Story." (Soooo not the case. I suppose he might have been thinking of Shrek?) I was pretty fuzzy on the details of the movie -- so imagine my surprise to find it was actually a pretty popular (and well-regarded) young adult novel from the 1980s and the entire premise of the plot revolves around a young boy's quest to find the PERFECT NAME for The Childlike Empress (ruler of Fantastica). Twas fate, no? I decided to read it out loud to Our Little Guy or Gal since he/she hears my voice so little during the day. (Working from home and being a bit of a hermit will do that to a gal.) Plus, it gave me a great excuse to try out all my character voices. Mr. Zookeeper is particularly fond of my Rock Person voice, while Our Little Guy or Gal seems to favor the Gnome Person accent.


Oh? And the name he finally settles on? Moonchild. Yeah, that's not happening...





Lady Vernon and Her Daughter, Jane Rubino and Caitlen Rubino-Bradway: Ding! Ding! Ding! Total winner. Easy two-day read. The book is based on a Jane Austen novella, and it's just what you would hope for in such a case: The characters are just a little less developed -- but no less enjoyable -- than you would expect from Jane Austen herself, and the authors have taken pains to stay true to Austen's style. (Although I get the feeling there is a wink every now and then to today's Chick Lit phenomenon.) It's not heavy reading, yet it's much more rewarding than the typical 20%-off-Target-bookclub fare. 









What I'm reading:
Little Bee, Chris Cleave: This is going to be another quick read. Of the two main characters, I find one a bit more believable than the other, which always makes me a little skeptical of a novel -- but the plot/storytelling work very well and I'm eager to get back to it. 

By any other name...

Mr. Zookeeper and I still haven't settled on a name for Our Little Guy or Gal. I'm sure part of our indecision stems from being "Team Green," but a great deal of it is also owed to us being masters of procrastination. 


At any rate, because we keep a running list of names, I am uniquely tuned into them in all situations -- whether it's the credits rolling after a movie or the name tag on our waitress. But yesterday, when it was Diesel's turn at the vet (his 1 year vaccinations), I got to play a fun game while glancing around at the posters on the waiting room walls: Does the name belong to Human or Pet?


Observe:


Photo selection #1: Mac and Rio:

Photo selection #2: Jorie and Sparkie (I'm sincerely hoping that "Sparkie" is the unhappy-looking kitty, but honestly...Jorie??)

I know famous people...

No Words Wednesday

Valentine's Day Surprise

Mr. Zookeeper had to leave at the crack of dawn for a week of training out of town...but he made sure to leave me with this gem of a "card" and a few Valentine's Day cupcakes, too. 

I'm a lucky girl. And I mean that sincerely. <3

Well trained

I think the standard joke about marriage is that the woman spends her time training the man without raising his suspicions...but today I realized that in this relationship, Mr. Zookeeper might actually be the puppeteer.


He made a big deal about downloading the new Disney movie "Tangled" before I left for church this morning, and even referred to it once or twice on our walk with the dogs. I didn't think much of it, but as soon as we got the leashes off and sat ourselves down on the couch, he reached for the remote and clicked "play." 


The man is not well known for his love of Disney fare -- and I had never asked him to download this particular gem. In fact, the only time I could remember mentioning it was when the movie was first coming out in theaters (back in November) and I suggested that I might drag one of my girlfriends out for it while he was away for work. 


When I pointed out that he seemed more eager for this slice of computer-animated fluff than I was, he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled.


About fifteen minutes in, though, he got up to get me a glass of water and then puttered around the garage for a few minutes. "Should I pause it?" "Oh no, that's okay. You keep watching. I'll be right back."


Then the power tools started whirring, and as I sat on the couch with a dog on each side it suddenly dawned on me that we were all his pawns. The dogs happily chewing on their large rawhide bones, while I was glazed over wondering how Mandy Moore had managed to go so long without being Disney Princess-ized. No one pestering or flittering about his heels as he pounded and hammered on some parts for the motorcycle. 


Clever, clever boy. 

Things my dogs have consumed...

...without any serious repercussions to their digestive systems:

• One pair of eyeglasses
• A platter of deviled eggs (apparently Mr. Zookeeper's pregnancy cravings are worse than mine)
• An entire bottle of KY Jelly (I know, I know...)
• The last chapter of "The Swan Thieves"
• At least one watch

And the list continues. Le sigh.

Snow day

I was a little confused yesterday when the receptionist from my optometrist's office called and left a message saying I could pick up my new eyeglasses that afternoon -- or that I could call and check tomorrow as they would only be open "weather permitting." I looked out the window and, although it was a bit overcast, the temperature still showed in the 40s.


Then I got to my Financial Planning class later that evening and overheard some of the women talking about Mr. Zookeeper's workplace already being on a two-hour delay. So, I busted out the handy iPhone, and sure enough, Virginia Beach was expecting a slight drop in temperatures and 1-2 inches of the good ol' white stuff.


Someone get the mayor on the phone...

Exclamation point, ampersand, pound sign...

So, something is definitely up with poor Mr. Jager. He's been walking a little funny for the past two or three weeks -- but never limping or dragging any leg enough to make the problem obvious. Just odd. And we've also noticed that he's lost a bit of his natural grace. No more gentle leaping onto chairs and cat beds, now its a stilted jump and then awkward recovery/landing. Not only that, but once he makes his way onto my lap (which is becoming increasingly more difficult as the belly slowly expands) he is especially cuddly and needy. Mr. Zookeeper did some poking and prodding and he believes there may be a sprain or injury we can't see. So, Jager and Willicat will be off to the vet this Friday. (Willicat is due for his comprehensive, anyhow, and he helps to calm Jager down in the examination room.)


I always get to chuckling when I call to make appointments for Jager because no matter who I get on the phone, they are guaranteed to know about Jager. I knew he was a fussy kitty, but I didn't know how infamous he was at Banfield Pet Hospital until the second or third appointment we had with Diesel as a puppy. They were pulling up our other records and I noticed on the computer screen that after Jager's name, there was a stream of random punctuation marks and what not. It read: Jager!$&#@


I asked the vet tech if they had trouble spelling his name, since even we went back and forth with it when we named him.


"Oh...no...those are just...well, they just mean he's in a special category."


You guys...they were using the "special" CUSS word category for Jager!!!


I'm not surprised -- or even annoyed -- because anyone who knows Jager knows that is totally his personality. (This is, after all, the same cat that was sent home from the groomers half-shaved because hew as putting up such a fuss.) He's the classic grumpy kitty. Even with Mr. Zookeeper and I, if we love on him for just a fraction of a second more than he finds acceptable, he will give a little bite. Not enough to hurt, just enough to wound your feelings. He's haughty and well aware of his superiority to all beings and creatures -- you know, typical cat through-and-through.

Willicat, on the other hand, couldn't be more opposite. He is aloof and generally satisfied with life. Very understanding of the puppy's desire to chew on him.

For all the different pairs at the Zoo, there seems to be a yin and yang type relationship. Diesel is playful and easygoing, whereas Dodge is rather sensitive and at times needy. Mr. Zookeeper is laidback and relaxed, and well...I think we all know where I stand. I think this means we can't be too far off from setting a date for Little Guy or Gal #2. Even with all the anxiety and apprehension I have about welcoming Our Little Guy or Gal #1, I know that he/she will need their yin, and probably the sooner, the better. Just Lord help us all if I ever see CUSS marks after that name!!

Four weeks

Four weeks left. Absolute insanity.


I had my 36-week appt. today with the other midwife at our practice. Love her! If I wasn't so fond of my current midwife, I think I'd probably ask for more appointments with this woman. She is chattier and a bit warmer, in general. But my current midwife is really so sweet -- she made special arrangements to see me my first few appointments with this pregnancy because of our loss in March. And I was so touched with how she handled the first ultrasound. She insisted on holding my hand (Mr. Zookeeper couldn't be there) even while she was working the wand. I was sooo nervous and it was so nice to feel like someone was really "there" for me -- and not just in the capacity of a medical care giver.


This was the bean during his/her first photo-op at eight weeks...

Hard to believe we only have four more weeks to go...although I have a feeling Our Little Guy or Gal will want to sleep in a bit. So maybe six weeks?! I could use some extra days to prepare the house...


Speaking of which, I've started to work on a few photo projects for the nursery. Next week I'll start painting and collaging for the wall art, but this is the progress I've made with photoshop so far. Hoping to get a few of these in frames for the dressers/walls, etc. I still need to get them printed and see how I can work them into our color theme. The only one I really feel positive will work is the 'Beach' photo, the others I might have to place elsewhere around the house.

Bad boys, bad boys...

Sigh.

The dogs are at it again. 

The last few nights, Diesel has been inviting Dodge out to the backyard for some wild, out-of-control play dates -- and Dodge has been bringing the snacks.


"Who us?"

Last night's romp took place around 2 a.m. when I woke up to the crazy clicking and clacking of puppy paws on my hardwood floors (they run frantically inside and outside just to abuse their doggie doors, I think). I crawled out of bed and thought I would console myself with one or two of the delicious homemade whoopie pies my mother-in-law had sent down in a care package that day.


I'm sure you've already guessed this next part, but I'll confirm your suspicions: That night's snack menu included the whoopie pies, as well as the Tupperware containers they came in and a bag of Hershey's Kisses. (Honestly, I think I was most upset about the Tupperware! We've been having the hardest time convincing the boys that these aren't toys that we leave out on the counter for them. Ugh.)


I guess it wouldn't have really been so bad (honestly, they probably saved me a little grief during my next weigh-in at the doc's), but the night before they consumed two dozen Toffee Butterscotch cookies I was baking to bring up to my baby shower this weekend.


And the night before that, they carried two pairs of dress shoes and a hooded sweatshirt out into the cold.


(I realize this would all be better with photographic before/after evidence, and I'm making a goal now to start documenting more of my day-to-day life with pictures. Promise!)


It seems like these incidents always happen when Mr. Zookeeper is away. For one, I go to bed a bit earlier, so I think they're restless. And for another, I just don't play with them as hard as Mr. Zookeeper does* -- especially when I'm eight months pregnant -- and they're left with all this pent-up destructive energy.


*See below, from Christmas vacation at my father-in-law's house.

At any rate, it was a pretty frustrating day at The Zoo. It does give me some encouragement for what's ahead, though. If I can survive the bitter disappointment of finding out two dozen scrumptious whoopie pies have been devoured by totally undeserving canines, than I'm pretty sure I can deal with a toddler who breaks mommy's iPhone. After all, I've never had a 2 a.m. iPhone craving...