Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Obligatory Fall Pumpkin-ness

We have three big pumpkins growing in our garden. We went to a pumpkin patch anyway and paid the obligatory entrance fee to let Lucy play in some dried corn and throw a fit about wanting to ride and then not wanting to ride in a "hay wagon" after having waited in a line of super rude MyChildrenAreTheOnlyPeopleWhoCountHere mothers. It's for the experience, you know.
The thrill of the experience.

Truth be told, though, Lucy had a great time running around and she picked out her very own pumpkin

and tried to put it in the wheelbarrow herself,

and she got to pick out a tiny little pumpkin-gourd for Bidou, and we got to visit with friends we don't see very often. So I suppose I should stop being so cynical and say that it was a fine day out.



Monday, October 25, 2010

The Mondays

LAZY. I've been lazy about everything lately.

We're still living around boxes. But things are MOSTLY in their right place. I mean, we have clothes and bed sheets and kitchen stuff and towels, and, you know, the necessities. But the artwork is all leaning against walls, and Lucy's room - well, I won't even go there. Her toys can stay in boxes forever as far as I'm concerned. Easy enough pick-up.

I haven't been writing anything. Mostly because I don't want to look at the most superlatively boring chronology of my laziness. We eat! We sleep! We do laundry! Sometimes we bathe! Who cares?! I need to find some sort of routine here. At the old house we could walk to coffee and to the library. Living here requires a little more planning for outings, and I just need to figure some things out. Like story time at our new library branch. Or something.

And I'm still pregnant, somehow. I think the baby's having a growth spurt the last couple of days. I'm starving and tired and then there's the other weird stuff. You know, like I've started getting these weird charlie-horses in my left middle abdominal muscle. Or the stretchy-ouchie-crampy feelings of the belly growing.

Lucy's been fun lately. I mean, now that she's sleeping through the night (mostly) and not viciously acting out at every single opportunity. (She's still so definitely Two, though, oh my goodness, she's Two. Pushing, testing, trying, pressing.) She's becoming so human saying things and thinking things that the Bubba and I didn't directly put in her head. Yesterday I asked if she'd like to paint her little pumpkin she said "Oh, Mom! That'd be GREAT!" Or today we were driving home and she saw some graffiti on a stop sign and she said "OH NO! What happened there?! We only color on paper. That's too bad."

The rain and wind have started in. Welcome, Seattle winter. And if "they" are to be believed, it's supposed to be a really wet one. For this week at least I've got some distraction. I've finally decided on a blankey pattern for Bidou, I have a pile of mending projects to do, and I have to finish up making our halloween costumes. And for the rest of it, well, that getting-out-of-the-house routine will evolve.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Friday Photos: New Everything

All the new things we're enjoying:

Lucy got a new play rug for her new room. Just in case you were wondering, she LOVES it. She will talk over lunch for complete paragraphs about where the red truck made its deliveries today and whether the yellow sports car got to watch the football game at the stadium.

And so far we haven't had a bit of trouble with her going to sleep with toys in her bedroom. In the old house, I had to clear out her room before laying her down. I don't know if it's new routine or whatever, but I'll totally take it. My living space isn't cluttered with plastic primary colors, and my girl is not distracted. Win win.

Lucy's showing off the new pumpkins growing in our new garden. Oh, man, I love this garden. Onions and beans and pumpkins and yellow squashes and tomatoes and berries. It's awesome and I hope I don't screw it up with my brown thumb.

This is our new go-to walk spot. It's a couple blocks away and it's the view over the Golden Gardens bluffs. We may not have the canal close anymore, but we do have the sound! And we can still see sailboats and barges and birds and the mountains. It'll do.

Sailboat parking. Lucy kept asking "But what are those sailboats DOING, Mom?" she didn't like the explanation that they were parked there. Then once I told her they were having a meeting. She stopped asking.


Me and my girl enjoying a nice walk in the sun. I balanced the camera on a bench and put the timer on. I'd get Lucy to stand in the right spot and then I'd run like a mad pregnant lady to join the picture. I think I took about five out takes before I realized that there were men in a work truck eating lunch at the curb and making hysterical fun of me. That's when I decided that one of those five photos was just fine.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

In ... Sort of.

This week has seemed so long that the toils of moving last weekend are in the very distant past of my memory.

Monday I had another midwife appointment and got to hear Bidou's heartbeat again. Everything looks good and healthy. And I still LOVE my midwifes and want to bring them all home with me to live on a commune. They're that awesome. It helped a little that she said "Your weight looks really good!" which, frankly, might be the first time anyone in the medical profession has ever said that. But it's true for me that I'm not gaining NEARLY as much with Bidou as I did with Lucy. I'm sure the fact that I'm in generally much better shape factors in, but really, I just don't have the time to sit and stuff my face like I want to/would do if Lucy wasn't around. That said, I'm 15.5 weeks and have gained 5lbs. Let's keep on this trajectory, shall we, Bidou? Keep asking for more apples and being ambivalent about the ice cream, mmmmmmkay?

I don't even know what happened the rest of the days that have gone by. So I guess that means that's when I busted my butt unpacking a bunch of boxes. I also started making nutritious food a priority again. We've been living on pizza and takeout and cold cut sandwiches and peanut butter. This week, I have been cooking healthy things again: spicy peanut sauce on soba, curry with chickpeas and spinach. Even without my measuring cups (I can't find them. Who packed this house up, anyway?). Tonight I can't decide whether I want to do the step-intensive lasagna, or the cutting/prep-intensive stew. A nap sounds better than both, really.

Speaking of sleep, we haven't been getting much around here lately. Lucy's transition to the new house is (I believe) complete, now. She woke up with a nasty cold on Monday morning and HOO BOY the combination has been a battle. It's hard to classify when she's acting out because she doesn't feel well, and when it's because she's out of her routine. And then I don't know whether to introduce an Activity like the Let's Put Clothes Away In Drawers to help her with the transition or if it's going to backfire and overwhelm her under-the-weather self which inspires even more vicious behavior on her part. Conversely, do I medicate her when I should be finding books for her to unpack? It's always a crap shoot. And I'm about 65-35 on the losing side of the bets. At least she's started sleeping mostly through the night again and not waking up and freaking the freak out over every new noise. Mostly.

So, we're in. We're in this new house, and we're enjoying the new space. The living areas are just so *livable* and the bedrooms are comfy and we have no share-the-walls-or-floor neighbors to worry about when Lucy gets a stroke of Must Play the Piano and Sing right when she wakes up at 6:30. We love the yard and walking the neighborhood. It's grand, really.

Even despite the boxes yet to be unpacked.


Thursday, October 7, 2010

Too Bad I Can't Just Have A Stiff Drink and Spare You This Post

It’s later than I usually write. Well, that’s not to say it’s late. Maybe what I mean is that I’m tireder than I usually write. Which ends up being Whinewhinewhine, woeisme, lifeishard, wahwahwah, whinewhinewhine. Either way, what I basically mean is that nothing I say should be taken seriously and you all should just put on your fake smiles and nod and pat my arm and leave it at that.

In fact, when we were first married, the Bubba and I had a no-talking policy twice a day. Between the time he got home from work and had something to eat and after 10pm. Anything that was said between those fateful hours was bound to end up some sort of squabble and maybe even escalate into a fight. No fun.

(Ok, ready with that fake smile and arm pat?)

You know what else is no fun? Moving. Trying to move with my family is absolutely INSUFFERABLE.

I hate that we’re going to have to do this at least once more in the foreseeable future when (IF) we (EVER) find a house we want to buy. … But look at me borrowing trouble again, and getting stressed about some future event that might not happen for ages! I mean really, I have enough to be stressed about right now.

First, there’s the certain shorty who thinks that the world revolves around her. She doesn’t think that I should dare turn my back on her to do something like empty cupboards into a box. A box. I mean, come on. Everyone KNOWS boxes are for dumping things OUT of. And climbing into. And pushing around on the carpet.

Then there’s the fetus, that selfish thing that ALSO thinks that the world revolves around him/her. And his/her sole purpose right now is to leave me enough energy to know what I should be doing and walk around looking at those things and at the same time suck my energy so that I really don’t want to DO any of those things, or (more likely) I do half of one thing before I’m exhausted and frustrated and ready to give up.

These siblings are already working together to break my sanity.

And then! Then there’s the Bubba. Oh, the Bubba. The Bubba is just something else when it comes to moving. I don’t know anyone else in the history of humankind who can seriously take fifteen thousand hours to pack one single solitary box. No joke. When I check on him, he’ll be standing perfectly still staring down into the box. When I’m all “WTH, worker bee??” He’ll sheepishly say, “Oh, I got distracted reading this,” indicating an article in a week-old newspaper that he’s currently using to wrap glassware.

Infuriating!

And then there’s the “Did you get anything done today?” when the Bubba gets home from work. Tonight he called to say he was on his way home, I suggested we pick him up because we were going to the new house. So I threw a bunch of random stuff that I could grab into the back of the car without much thought as to how it was presented. “Nice packing job, Liz.” was all that was said, thick with sarcasm, as he unloaded. (To the Bubba’s credit, it turned out that I smashed one stroller, one golf bag, one open box with stuff overflowing - and by overflowing I mean falling out all over - and well, another open box with stuff overflowing, and then our yoga mats in there. Random AND messy.)

I’m being sensitive. I’m stressed and tired and worried and tired and pregnant and tired. I get to be sensitive and frustrated. Sometimes I don’t think we’ll ever get done because all that gets done is what I do. So then I want to just check out and leave everything to the Bubba, and good luck to you, Fine Sir. But then I know that we’ll get done, and I just need to go to bed (which, if I'm being honest, is the answer to quite a few issues).

This too shall pass.

Two More Days

So the official move is on Saturday morning. It's finally in sight, and I can't wait until it's over. I have been s-l-o-w-l-y making my way through the house and sorting and purging and organizing. And then I got tired of that. And lately I've been organizing/packing maybe one box a day if I'm lucky.

But! I did get the kitchen cabinets at the new place scrubbed and contact papered and whatnot. That takes some time out of the just-moved in schedule. And it also guarantees that I won't have to clean this house and THEN go over and clean the new house one right after the other. Ugh.

I've also been making a trip over to the new place every day with odd-shaped stuff. Pedestal fans and diaper pails and that awkward little table. That sort of thing. Hopefully, then, when we get the truck, it'll just be boxes and furniture in, and boxes and furniture out. Followed by a brisk, satisfied hands-brushing-off.

Only two more days of limbo.