Hello again

I wrote this two weeks ago on a flight. Then I forgot I wrote it. But today I found it. You were almost spared.

Dear Boo,

I haven’t documented your cuteness lately due to general laziness and mounting fear that one day there will be a #2 in therapy with an inferiority complex because his mother didn’t write him as many (if any) letters as the big sister got due to the aforementioned laziness. Every picture, letter, video, and memento signs me up to do the same for #’s 2, 3, 4, and 5. There won’t be 5, but you get the point.

Anyway, cheese alert.

Lately I have moments with you where I feel my heart is going to melt and erupt completely out of my body. Explode.

-When you stare at me, grab my face with both hands, and "kkkkkhhhhhgggggggurgly-gggggoooooo" with a squinty smile.

-When you shove the thumb in your mouth and snuggle up on me (selectively, only me) to recharge between squealing sessions.

-When you stand on your dad’s belly and peek out over the back of the futon to smile and goo hello while I continue the internet prowl for the perfect burgundy boots.

-When you suck and smile in your sleep.

-When you pant like a dog over a glass of water.

Other than that, you’re up to lots of new tricks. You’re oh so close to crawling (I see many stubbed toes in my future as I chase you around our clutter), but so upset that you only go backwards. You pull yourself up to stand. You’ve learned to scratch your eczema hands-free just like me – rubbing your legs on each other or whatever surface is available. And my favorite – talking into the big plastic cup to hear your echo.

We are eating you up and the moment we want to freeze you as-is, you do something so cute we can’t wait to see what’s next.

I seem to have verbal diarrhea of the fluffy pink bunny variety.

You should probably know that all parents feel this way about their little ones. I write this with blinders on like you’re the only baby in the world doing these things. You’re not. So you don’t get a big head, I will share some constructive feedback.

-You scream a lot. They’re happy screams but quite loud and distracting. Try channeling that energy into some consonants. These are critical to achieve true expression of your feelings, such as “mama, you look pretty today” or “I’m a girl, can’t you see my earrings and pink flowered shirt you idiot?”* You love G’s. On rare occasion I hear a B. We need some M's and D's please.

-You like every food I’ve given you, including broccoli (your mother’s daughter), but not avocado. Whose child are you? Please try to be more open.

-Stop eating my hair. I find it in your diaper and it's weird.

-Please, for the love of all things, learn to get along with the carseat.

-Go to bed.

As I continue to embarrass myself using an outlet formed for expression of my own life, you should take this as testament for how much I love you (and it gives your grandparents something to read so I don’t feel guilty for keeping you up here with the yankees).

Later. Love, MMM-A-M-A.

*Strangers mostly think you are a boy.

In the two weeks since, she's begun crawling, cruising (yikes), hugging, kissing (the puckerless open mouthed kind), babbling consonants, and whining like a puppy. That was fast. Too fast.

Christmas vacation part two

Ate too much.
Enjoyed margaritas.
Took ridiculous amount of pictures.

Top to bottom: Eating paper, resting, more resting, and my favorite tree in the house.

No turning back now

I am promising the internet.

New Year's resolutions are dumb, but I make them anyway. I may set myself up to disappoint, but it's my nature. I make overambitious lists. On we go.

The big ones:

1. Run the NYRR Grand Prix (5 half-marathons through the year in each of the 5 boroughs).
2. Read one book a month (ones intended for vampire and Hogwarts loving 13-year-olds do count).
3. Do something about my abs.
4. Take photography class.
5. Keep a clean email inbox.

The others:

6. Start using non-disposable razors (As quite a granola cruncher, I'm very embarrassed to admit contribution of many, many pink plastic razor handles to our landfills. I'm not crunchy enough to stop shaving altogether, although the husband may think my habits prove otherwise).
7. Floss.
8. Take vitamins.
9. Be nice.
10. Drink more water.

They're public and going on the fridge. Ask me about them and make me feel bad for not following through. It's the only way I'll learn.

Christmas vacation, part one

I need a mid-vacation vacation from this Christmas vacation. My habit of over committing when home results in good times and exhaustion (although worth it). Seven days seems like plenty of time, but somehow it just disappears.

Where the time went (when we remembered to take pictures):

My mom just finished chemo treatment 5 (out of 6) and had more energy than me most of the time we were there. That'll make you feel like a loser. Here, she totes around Miss Carry-Me-Around-And-Show-Me-Stuff-Or-I'll-Cry while we focus on our last-minute Christmas baking project.

Eva, Dilan's 11 week old friend, loves to snuggle.

Mia, her 2 year old friend, shares raisins.

Having just had her 8-month mark, Miss D is fun, loud, and affectionate. She got us in the spirit with her Christmas tutu, showing off my mad tulle-tying skills.

As a subway rider, Dilan hates the carseat. Our 6-hours from Rome to Charleston:

50% crying (the hyperventilating, eyes not even open kind)

20% sleeping

20% distraction with a bag of corn nuts, slushie cup and straw, ridiculous songs about baking cakes (while not coughing from the nasty cold she shared), or just stopping to let her stand around and eat the steering wheel.

5% eating

5% cute babbling that makes it all ok, but not really.

I'm now thankfully recovering on Day One of the Cleaver Christmas portion of the vacation, and Brett's mom just said the magic word, "margarita".

Oh, and she's now a crawler. She's not motivated enough to get us running yet, reserving her energy for lunging at water glasses or just standing. I believe we have a couple weeks before life turns into a fast forward video of baby chasing. And the way she's been digging crap out of the rugs, her full mobility is bound to test our baby un-choking skills.

Don we now our most festive apparel

We've gotten a few Christmas cards this week from the overachieving early mailers, motivating me to clean off my fridge but not motivating me enough to write my own yet. I decided we're doing New Year's cards instead. This way, your fridge be will free and clear of other cards and ready to showcase us for a whole year. How thoughtful of me.

Until then...

Happy Holidays!

May your days be as merry and bright as our sweaters.

Our third member didn't make the picture due to lack of Christmas flare. But, here we are with Gillian and Ken, who proudly displayed enough cheese to be photographed with us. I am a midget.

Brett is requiring me to clarify that we are at a tacky sweater holiday party. He's afraid it's not obvious. His Christmas choir ensemble tied with Gillian's built-in-frilly-collar sweatshirt, winning the most awesome outfit at the party prize. I really am so proud.

And thanks to Leslie and John for having a party that allowed us to express our Christmas cheer in wool and sparkle. I can't wait to devise next year's ensembles.

I am hyperventilating

OMG. We got into the daycare. The one that broke my heart. The one that allows so much money savings I sort of feel rich. The one that provides food (organic, by the way), so I don't have to pack and send. The one that provides DIAPERS and is walking distance from our apartment.

I feel like celebrating with an indulgent dinner, and thankfully Sonal is coming to town now so I have an eating friend.

Thank you Santa. I want nothing more.

Here is a cute picture, courtesy of Gillian's excellent photography. More here.



OK, back to work.

Pay it forward

A while ago, Gillian posted a Pay it Forward chain on her blog, promising to send a treat to the first three commenters on the post, in exchange for their doing the same.

Anyone who knows how well this woman bakes knows why I began salivating in anticipation as soon as I sealed my spot with the third comment. The cookies she made me were insane.

(Picture stolen from her friend Tyler).

Two kinds: 1) The Jaques Torres recipe (GIANT cookies with enough saltiness to allow you to finish the whole thing without feeling sick from sweet, even though you sort of wish you felt sick so you'd stop eating), 2) Martha Stewart's Thin & Crisp recipe. Neither lasted long.

People have had a rough week. A stranger let me use his metro card today and wouldn't let me pay him back. I'm getting ready to start my holiday crafting. And I love giving presents. So, the time is right to pay my bit forward.

The official rules:

I agree to send something fun, cute, and nice to the first 3 blog owners who post a comment on this entry. In turn, those three will post this information and pick 3 people they want to send something to and so on. If you are interested in participating, be one of the first 3 blog owners to leave a comment! You have to promise that you will then post about this on your blog, link to me, and then send something to the first three people who comment on your blog so that this continues. When the first three have commented I will email you a request for your shipping address and I will send out something that I hope will make you smile!

Don't worry. I will not be baking.