Cuddle time

Eowyn's not much of a cuddler. It's not so much that she doesn't like to be held; she just rarely stops moving long enough to actually lay her head against you and hug you. We cherish each kiss and hug, which she rations out meagerly. Christian gets even fewer than I do, since she is such a momma's girl. Her willingness to stop and hold onto Daddy the other morning therefore merited documentation. That Christian was actually wearing a shirt at the time was another factor. I think he is wearing a shirt in less than 10% of our pictures of him. He wears a shirt perhaps less than 10% of the time that he is home. You may surmise that, to my chagrin, Christian is averse to non-necessary clothing when not at work.

Price Reduced

So, our slipping home value is another worry that keeps me up at night. How much has it slipped? Let's say, close to 30%. That's a whole lotta money.

Some of my poor friends and family (sorry, Anna! sorry, Mom!) hear me lament this nearly every time we're together. It's one of those things that forms a cold, hard lump in the pit of your stomach and won't budge. As they say, hindsight is 20/20, yada yada. But I wish we had been just a teensy bit more patient when buying a home. As it was, we broke a lease just to get into this place. Having just moved from California, where home prices were mind-blowingly out of whack, this house felt like a steal at the time. We wanted to 'get in on the market' before it was too late. Result: overpaying, even at the peak of the bubble.

Things like our recent re-pipe escapade lead me to fantasize about the brand new home we could have bought now, complete with brand new pipes and a shower that doesn't leak into my daughter's bedroom. The impending sale of my parent's home, the home I grew up in and which my mom would wish upon me if she could, also makes me wistful for what could have been (more room, stunning neighborhood, etc....).

I try to remind myself about the good things we do have, and I am grateful for them, really! We have a good home with adequate space in a good neighborhood, the one where Christian grew up. Things could be much worse. Unfortunately, the lump in my stomach won't listen to reason.

One-Stop Folk Harp Shop

Though I rarely play anymore, folk harps, and folk harp music, remain one of my keen interests. I thought I'd share some of my personal highlights from this musical subculture.

If you'd like to see folk harps which are stunning works of art, check out Thormahlen Harps. Unlike pedal harps--the kind of harp you may be familiar seeing in large orchestras and which is usually built from maple--folk harps are crafted from all kinds of luscious-sounding woods. Cherry, walnut, mahogany, bubinga, koa--and maple, too. The wood and craftsmanship in Thormahlen harps is beautiful to behold. Koa is my personal favorite. It's also the most rare and expensive.

Likely one of the most popular folk harp makers is Dusty Strings. I never had a thing for them, but I mention them for completeness.

My own harp is a Blevins Encore in walnut. Blevins are plain but good quality. Their no-nonsense construction makes them half the price of other quality folk harps, though we're still talking a couple grand for one. Blevins makes a boggling 66 different models of harp.

If you'd like to check out some Celtic harp music but don't know where to start, I highly recommend Kim Robertson's work. Unlike some folk harp music, which can tend quickly towards the monotonous (due in part to the harmonic nature of the instrument), Kim's music always provides variety. On Searching for Lambs, she ranges from exotic contemporary compositions (like Maya's Return, a personal favorite) to sweet love songs, cheerful dances and sad laments.

Insomnia

It's one of those nights. In the light of the street lamp, the leaves of the trees shine with water and heave sickly in the howling wind. Something about the design of our eaves in particular make each gust sound like the ghost train is pulling into the station. The restless moaning keeps conjuring the same fear to my mind: flooding. Is it an irrational fear? Probably. But I just picture the radar images of Fay, parked over the state and dumping endless bucketfuls of water on us. Christian tried to reassure me that the little lake behind our house makes it less likely that we will flood, since the excess water has somewhere other than the foundation of our house to flow into. When you're lying awake at 4:30 at the morning, those reassurances fade.

My night started out well enough. I fell right to sleep, but was awoken a few minutes later by Christian's elbow, which was repeatedly knocking me in the head. Yeah, he tends to fidget in his sleep. I eventually fell back to sleep, but it took me a while. And now I'm up, 5 hours later. At least I can pass some time by writing aimless blog posts...

And the 2008 Curmudgeon Award goes to....

....my neighbor, an older gentleman whose car gained this recent addition to the bumper:
At first, I wasn't quite sure what this message was supposed to mean. As far as I can interpret it, he really doesn't like tailgaters. So much so, that he felt it necessary to plaster this sentiment in large white letters across his entire rear bumper. I suppose if you're determined to be cranky, a small yet rude bumper sticker just won't cut it. There's no sense in doing things half-way, right?

It's either that, or a lot of people have been pestering him about air travel.

Solid Food Adventures

My approach to Eowyn's eating has always been a bit unorthodox. Even now, she eats more food than I care to admit while running about the house. Often I'm just glad if she comes back to me for a bite or two before she's off running again.

This situation evolved out of a desire not to push food on her. I wanted eating to be a generally pressure-free, pleasant experience. Perhaps I was afraid of becoming a parent who must engage in all kinds of theatrical antics, cajoling and sighing in order to get her little one to eat. This fear, along with my initial participation in La Leche League meetings, led me to a "baby-led feeding" approach.

I started Eowyn on solids fairly late for our culture (around 7 months). From the beginning, I gave her finger foods that were firm enough for her to pick up and feed herself, but soft enough to mash easily between her gums, like strips of banana, avocado, sweet potato and very ripe peach. I never really did baby cereal with her, though I would make her oatmeal and cream of wheat later on. In all, I was happy with how this approach worked out. I never bought any baby food; I would just give her fresh fruit and soft cooked veggies that we had on hand and which she could feed herself. I also gave her very soft cooked meat, like chicken and pork, fairly early on. As a result, she became proficient at feeding herself, and didn't reject chunky textures as some babies do who are used to the smooth puree of jarred baby food. She progressed at her own pace, and I didn' t feel I was forcing anything on her (though I must admit that I did worry alternately that she was getting too much or not enough solid food).

Here are the websites I consulted the most for starting solids:
La Leche League: Starting Solids
Kellymom: Starting Solids

Of course, this approach is just one of many. Ultimately, you must do what feels right and healthy for you and your child.

Eowyn eating avocado at 7 months old

A beautiful performance, tarnished

Did you happen to see the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games? I hadn't given much thought to watching it until my mother-in-law turned it on. Immediately, the performance was riveting. What looked like hundreds of boxes, representing the invention of movable type, flowed up and down into patterns, shapes, and the Chinese character for 'harmony'. At first I marveled at the discipline of the men who must certainly be lifting the boxes in precise rhythm. But as the segment wore on, I became convinced that only machines could be moving the boxes at such length and speed. When, at the end, men appeared from the boxes waving enthusiastically, I was amazed. I nearly cried from the beauty of it.

Then the rest of my dear family joined us. At the end I still felt like crying, but for a completely different reason. Christian and Josh took every opportunity to rant maniacally about the evils of communism and its manifestation in the ceremony. Each flourish of a dancer or measured movement of a Tai Chi master became a subversive message about the 'motherland'. The music and commentary were drowned out by the din of their ranting and our loud pleas for them to be quiet--pleas which were completely unheeded, as you might have guessed. I suppose they enjoyed the irritation they caused us more than anything.

There's a time and a place for anti-communist ranting, don't get me wrong. I just didn't think it was right then.

Mrs. Hyde

Pregnancy has made a certain problem of mine much worse. Namely, my tendency to morph into a volatile monster when hunger hits. Acquiring food becomes my singular goal. My hands shake; I get lightheaded and weak. I snap at Christian for any perceived slight and simmer with anger at the world.

I'm always surprised at how quickly my foul temper abates after I've eaten something. Within minutes of ingesting a high-protein snack, I feel like a new person. The sun shines again and I realize there's more to life than a turkey sandwich (though it may be a yummy, well-crafted sandwich with spinach, tomato, and red onion....mmmm).

During pregnancy, I find that I must eat at least every two hours or risk the perils of low blood-sugar. When I was pregnant with Eowyn and still working in an office, my schedule was thus: wake up and eat breakfast; eat snack on the way to work; eat snack upon arrival to work; eat snack before lunch; dream about lunch; eat lunch, etc. There were a few morning meetings which disrupted this precarious schedule and which almost resulted in me passed out on the floor. My coworkers quickly learned to hand off any extra food to me. Approach me in my cubicle at any point in the day and I invariably had crumbs on my shirt. One of my newly hired coworkers asked if I was always so obsessed about food. Though I felt a little ashamed, she became pregnant herself later on, so I'm sure she understands in hindsight.

At home with Eowyn, the situation is both better and worse. I have easier access to food, but I'm often too busy taking care of Eowyn to remember to eat it.

Fans, glorious fans!

This post by Erin M. really made me laugh! It also made me think of my sister's son, Seth. He too developed a keen interest in fans, starting around Simon's age. Meredith would call it an obsession. There was a time when, wherever he went, he needed to have every fan in the place turned on as high as possible, asking, 'can't they go any faster than that?' He loved looking for fans on outings. His favorite store was the fan store, also known as the fan department of Home Depot. He would regale you at length about fans he had seen at Grandma's house and friends houses. Meredith made him a little book filled with pictures of fans. One day, the arrival of a home improvement catalog advertising fans kept him occupied for (seeming) hours.

Meredith grew concerned that his love of fans would interfere with other aspects of his social development. Over time, his interest grew to include anything that spins, like wheels and tops. And eventually, he moved on to obsess over other things, like pop-up sprinklers. So it worked out in the end--he's an intense little kid, and you just gotta love his tenacity!

Thanks for sharing your fan story, Erin.

Let the games begin

There's several video games I'm looking forward to very much this year. Of course, since Blizzard is developing two of these games, I may not actually get to play them until Eowyn has grandchildren. It's hard to complain too much when Blizzard has such a great track record of releasing games with precision-tuned gameplay.

Diablo III is top on my list. It will be great fun to play this one co-op with Christian, as soon as we put our second computer back into working order, that is. I still have fond memories of watching Christian play the Diablo II beta.





Next, I'm looking forward to Final Fantasy XIII. Hearing that this game will no longer be a PS3 exclusive is a big relief--I wasn't especially looking forward to purchasing that doomed ship just to play this game.


The last game I'm excited about is Starcraft II. But who isn't? That one speaks for itself.

Sea Baby

One day when Eowyn was 7 months old, I wrote this poem about her as I nursed her to sleep. I'm not claiming it's any good, but it came from the heart.

Sea Baby

Skin of crushed pearls and soft rolling sand
Dimple dunes, driftwood-smooth
Golden sea-grass hair
Blue nautilus eyes and pink coral ears,
each chamber opalescent
Your feet are the plump, round velvet of a sandpiper's belly
Brown feather eyelashes rest on speckle-egg cheeks
I am the wave that rocks you to sleep, the wind that whispers 'I love you'
Dream sweet sea dreams
Until morning rays stir still waters
My little sea horse, drift away

Eowyn at the beach when she was 7 months old

Pregnancy Woes

Babies are wonderful, and I'm looking forward to the new little one who will join our family next year. It's just the matter of growing the baby inside my body that bothers me. Oh, and then somehow moving the baby from inside my body to the outside world--that's another small hurdle, but I'll worry about that later. During this first trimester, my main problem symptoms have been ridiculous amounts of fatigue, the constant vague feeling that I might vomit, and needing to pee in the middle of the night. Insomnia has also been a recurring problem, hence the creation of this blog. I know that as pregnancies go, I could have it far worse (such as constant severe nausea for all nine months), so I am quite grateful for the relative health and ease with which I have carried this babe so far.

At my last dentist's appointment, my hygienist told me that she had discovered she was pregnant after being married to her husband for 20 years. She had always been told that she was unable to have children, but now she has a 6-month old baby girl. Now, even if she had gotten married at the age I did, she would still be 40 when her babe was born. She asked me to imagine the kind of lifestyle change that entails after being married without children for so long...I know that I can't.

I was that mom

Yes, I was that mom. The one who bought her daughter a sack full of popcorn on her way into Target, banking on the salty morsels to keep the babe busy as she browsed leisurely in the aisles. I was the one whose child dropped a trail of popcorn kernels wherever they went, as if they were rehearsing a joint audition for the lead roles in the next production of Hansel & Gretel. I was the one who gasped in alarm when her daughter overturned her cup of popcorn on the floor in close proximity to several Target red-shirts, the mom who glanced furtively over her shoulder and then attempted to walk casually down the next aisle as Red Shirt Girl told Red Shirt Boy with a sigh, 'Don't worry, I'll get it.'

I'm not proud of what I did. I'd like to say that I'm sorry, Target red-shirts, for the extra work I caused you that day.

I completed a shopping trip in relative peace, my little girl's appetite ruined for the rest of the day by ingesting nearly half a bag of popcorn, her sweet little lips puffy from salt. Was it worth it? Hmmm.....

Good Morning, Mom!

You know it's an inauspicious start to your day when you go to retrieve your daughter from her crib in the morning and the first thing she does is hand you some of her own poop.

Yes, you read that right. Gross! Still, I found my self saying, 'um, thank you, sweetie.' (It's an instinct for me to reinforce her any time she hands me something willingly).

Her BM was so profuse and powerful that it managed to come up the front of her diaper. It was on her sheets, it covered her blankie, it defiled her stuffed animals. She had it smeared on her face, her clothes, her hands and her feet.

Cleaning her up was a team effort for Christian and me. And yet, it didn't really bother me. Not that I enjoyed it, but if you had told me two years ago that I would one day be cleaning up a poo-covered toddler and assorted poo-covered accessories with nothing more than feelings of mild inconvenience, I probably wouldn't believe you.

Ah, the blinding power of love.

Learnin', Disney-Style

Eowyn has recently reached a point where TV fascinates her. Before, she was mostly oblivious to it. I naively hoped this was a more permanent trait. Now, the TV exerts an irresistible compulsion on her. When it's on, her eyes glaze over and she stands transfixed next to her Cheerios depository (formerly known as the coffee table). Fortunately this only lasts for about 15-20 minutes at a time, though I know it will only increase as she gets older. I have discovered it's both a good and a bad thing. There are times when a 15-20 minute respite from her role as my shadow is quite useful, such as when I'm cooking dinner. Still, it's all too easy to turn on the TV when I'm too tired to engage her full attention.

Even so, there's been a few things I've learned from watching children's television with her, largely from the Disney Channel offering Little Einsteins. Here's a sampling:

1. Animals of all kinds communicate through sounds like orchestral instruments
2. Rockets may be powered by patting your lap vigorously
3. One may open a secret door in Egypt's Sphinx by playing a selection of Mozart on a harp
4. The moon likes to hang out at the peak of the Matterhorn in Switzerland
5. The top of the Space Needle in Seattle is razor-sharp (dangerous for runaway balloons)

In a perfect world...

...my sister, Meredith, and I would live down the street from each other, and my sister-in-law Christy would be in the same neighborhood, too. We'd watch each other's kids and share meals. We'd go to our respective homes when we started to get tired of each other. We'd hang out for no good reason.

In the real world, I've just recently become on "hello" terms with one (1) of my neighbors, after living in this house for three years.

Anyone else longing for village life?

My little neat freak

Eowyn, at 17 months old, has discovered the appeal of orderliness. Sort of.
Her recent activities include:

• taking cornflake remnants off of the coffee table (left there by daddy, si claro) and placing them in the trash.
• eagerly emptying her snack bowl onto the floor, running to the dishwasher, opening it, pulling out the top rack, placing her bowl inside, closing the dishwasher door.
• ferrying the clean silverware from the dishwasher to the drawer. Doing the same for dirty silverware.
  
• putting dirty clothes in the hamper. Putting clean clothes in the hamper.
• helping me put wet clothes in the dryer. 'Helping' me put dry, dirty clothes in the dryer.
• fighting with mommy over the broom and the swiffer (her new favorite toy is a child sized broom. The swiffer has also been permanently reduced to mini-height).
• running away with my rubber gloves and dish towels.
  

Believe it

My house is immaculately clean--you won't find weeks-old mystery spots on my floors. No dust blankets my shelves, and there are no decrepit food crumbs attracting bugs in cracks and corners. Each one of my closets, cabinets and drawers is scrupulously organized. The paint colors in my house work perfectly with my carefully chosen furnishings and wall-hangings. I maintain a full-fledged vegetable and herb garden, from which I regularly prepare delicious, healthy meals. I never eat half a pepperoni pizza in one sitting. I love all of the clothes in my closet. I regularly get pedicures. I never have Eowyn watch TV for an afternoon because I'm too tired to give her my full attention.

None of the above statements are true. (*sigh*)

Must-have

Unable to sleep in the middle of the night, I turned to internet surfing. By and by I stumbled across the very thing that will solve all my problems, if only I can acquire one. Oh yes, say goodbye to my endless inner laments about dirty floors: It's the iRobot Scooba! This is my gift wish.

Not cut out for the "corporate world"

Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out if I'd made different choices. Like if I hadn't gotten married at twenty. Or if I had decided to pursue that study-abroad program in Spain instead of getting engaged. If I had actually submitted that application to University of Florida instead of just thinking I had. If I had somehow stayed in California and actually found a job related to the graduate degree I spent forever acquiring. If I had not had a baby.

I don't regret my life. I love my husband dearly, and my daughter is more precious and beautiful to me than I would have ever thought possible. I'm thankful for the many things I have--a nice home to live in and the valuable opportunity to be home with Eowyn and help her grow every day. I'm grateful that I've been lucky enough not to make too many stupid choices. I'm grateful that Christian is such a funny, rational, loving person. I'm grateful that we're have a modicum of financial stability, and so many choices for our personal entertainment that it's staggering.

All that doesn't keep me from wondering about 'what-ifs'. Meredith and I have talked about this and both agree that we're just not cut out for the 'corporate world'. I think it's because the two main characteristics of my life over the years have been timidity and laziness (call it lack of self-discipline, to be more gentle). Also, a fear of being alone and a need to feel loved. I'm not a driven person. I just want someone to hug, who will hug me back. That doesn't keep me from wondering about all my lost potential.

I'm 27 and having a mid-life crisis.

Now, I'm a blogger

Well, I've succumbed to the urge to blog, finally shuffling into line along with the rest of America. I've resisted for a while. It's seemed an... interesting... past-time: sharing one's random thoughts with a random public, and assuming (hoping?) someone cares. Both voyeuristic and vain. Yet I wake up too often at night with thoughts that won't let me sleep, often wishing I could just write them down, get them out of my head, and get on with my precious slumber. I hope this blog will help. Probably, it won't.