The Obligatory 2009 Retrospective

For the half-dozen stubborn souls still regularly reading this blog after a very sparse year, I thank you and look forward to a fresh start in 2010.

As for 2009, I have a nice long list of excuses to take me off the hook for writing so little, for taking poor care of my bod, for going long stretches of time not hanging with my family, and for not giving as much of my skills and talents to my writing group in the position I was in this year. Thing is, all those excuses stem from a choice I made rather unwittingly at first but then continued to make without planning much beyond said choice. That choice? My day job became a career. I'm not very upset about that choice. I love what I do during the work week. It's very satisfying and it keeps the anal-retentive perfectionist control-freak side of my personality extremely busy and happily so.

If I could go back to the beginning of 2009, I would still make this choice, but I would be smarter about it. I wouldn't just assume that my life could fall into place around my career choice without effort on my part. I wouldn't assume that choosing something as a career means the career naturally progresses according to my effort and abilities without reference to the careers and attitudes of others around me. I didn't make these assumptions consciously, but I realized I had made them sometime in the fall and didn't take steps to correct them or work around them. That's what my journey since Thanksgiving has been about.

So for 2010, I will not accept exhaustion at the end of the work day or the weekend as an excuse not to write for at least an hour or not to do something active with the family for at least three hours on the weekend. I know my body's limits and a little fatigue is not going to deter me. No more wuss-fest after a long day and week. I think most of the exhaustion I felt was more mental and focused on my logic-slave side anyway than the parts of me I employ writing and being with Drew and Mark. I can compartmentalize better. My body has been in the habit of not falling asleep until 11PM and waking up at 5AM. Rather than toss and turn in bed for an hour or two every night and doze through the last half-hour before the alarm goes off every morning, I'm going to use those times for writing and exercising, respectively.

All of that being said, however, I did submit a short story twice this year, once to a contest, once to an on-line zine. Got rejected and earned the ability to write-off my writing expenses for tax purposes. I did bring in many amazing speakers to my writing group and contributed to another fabulous year for our little volunteer-run chapter of RWA. I also had three writing retreats this year (the first of which was spent sick and huddled under the covers afer about 2K of crap-tastic words; the second was spent playing solitaire after about 2K of pure schlock; and the third produced 3K of great stuff that launched a project I'm using for a revision course that will keep me on a good schedule for the first half of 2010 and should seque right into fixing THUMB for the second half). While it was mostly stress-induced, I also lost 30 pounds this year and am now a size 8 (there's some residual flab that needs toning, and I'd like to maintain this weight without the negativity of severe stress). And we did spend a good deal of time together as a family, also getting Drew in the habit of brushing his teeth every day and practicing writing his letters regularly. And the career is coming along quite well.

So 2009 wasn't a bust though it kind of feels like it. Mostly because I know I can do better.

Millie

My grandmother, great aunts, great uncles, uncle, and assorted cousins buried my great grandmother today.*

Millie Arel was 97 and is survived by countless children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and one great great grandchild. Her health and outlook had been declining for several years since she had to move out of her own apartment and into hospice care, and she always thought she had been far too long a widow and wondered when God would decide she could go join all those who had already left her. So this ending was peaceful and a welcome release for a remarkable woman.

There's so much more I'd love to say about my great grandmother--memories of trips to Grand Forks, pictures of four and five generations of her family--but I'm actually a little bit numb right now. No matter how expected such a moment is, no matter how much I know it's what she wanted, no matter how peaceful her friends and family are at her passing, I still struggle with the knowledge that Drew will only know this woman from pictures as he met her when he was only six months old. I can't help but be sad for that loss.

---

Let's hope I get better at posting so as not to develop a trend of updating the blog to report a loved one's death.

Isn't It Romantic?

Today marks the eighth anniversary of our first date. Eight years ago today, Mark and I went to see What Women Want (and, ironically, Mark completely failed at catching my signals in the world-renowned art of Movie Theater Armrest Touching) and afterwards confessed that we had some sort of thing for each other and maybe we should, you know, become a couple officially so all of our friends can finally treat us as such though we've clearly been acting like a couple for a few weeks.

So this morning, knowing that Mark and I usually do something a little special for each other on this day, particularly since the Drew Monster stole some of our wedding anniversary thunder by being born the day before, I woke up to the sultry sound of my husband....

....hurling in the toilet?

Every now and then, I swear I hear that 80s PSA guy intoning over a background sizzling noise, "This is your life. This is your life as a parent. Any questions?"

Happy Anniversary, Mark. Sorry you spent it shuffling between the bathroom and the bed, but, hey, at least it was unique! :)

The Har' Down

Otherwise known as the Grand Canyon. ("Har' Down" is Drewbie-speak for a big decline, essentially.) It was a great trip, though a bit chillier than we were expecting. The first night, the temperature dropped down to 29 deg F. And we were in a summer tent. Yipes! I learned how to sleep with a blanket over my head, something I never thought possible as it usually triggers my very mild claustrophobia. I guess my brain decided it was better to risk feeling suffocated and trapped over freezing my nose off.

The trip up was nice, though uneventful. We popped into Red Mountain off of Highway 180 between Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon so we could picnic out of the trunk and hike a very small ways toward the mountain itself. This site might feature prominently in the sequel to THUMB that's kicking around in the back of my head, so I snapped a few good pictures. One of these trips up to the GC, we'll actually hike the full route.

We hit our only snag (other than how wickedly cold it was) when we tried to pitch the tent. It's a big, complicated structure that didn't assemble quite as easily as the test run Mark and I did in the house after we bought it. So we were already a bit testy by the time it came to stake the thing. And nothing would stake. Mark was ready to keep wailing on a couple of stakes when I happen to look over and see a slab of exposed rock on the floor of our campsite. "Uh, Mark, I'm thinking that's not going to work." Note to self: do not try to pitch a tent on bedrock. We rigged the thing to stay upright with a bunch of large rocks in strategic corners of the tent. And it held, though it was rougher on the tent's interior than we would've liked for its first use.

We trekked out on the West Rim drive as far as we could go. They're in the process of shutting that entire side of the park down until November to revamp the road and route. Can't blame 'em as the ride was so rough on the patch of road still open that we thought the shuttle was going to loose an axle or something.

The Canyon itself...well, words are never quite enough, and pictures suck most of the vastness and complexity right out of it. Suffice to say, I never get tired of it and always find new things each trip.

Drew scared about half of the people who saw him gallavanting around the rim despite the tether and vigilance of whichever parental unit held the leash. At one point, I stayed up at the point while the rest of the party hiked down a bit to get to a different vantage point. As I watched the group climb back up toward me, I overheard a couple of people fretting over how even with the tether, they'd be too worried to let a little kid walk free at the canyon. I very good-naturedly fessed up that the kid was mine and shared how advance Drew is in all things kinesthetic. The ladies agreed he was destined to be a rock climber, then.

Our second day up, we drove through the East Rim and down Highway 89 back toward Flagstaff to check out the Little Colorado River Gorge and Sunset Crater/Wupatki National Parks. The Gorge was stunning. It had been seven years since Mark and I had seen it. And since it's on the Navajo reservation, there were a ton of booths with Native American crafts and jewelry. Mark picked up a couple of pieces for me as an early Mother's Day present. One was an awesome hematite and picture jasper choker, the other was a set with fired glass that looked like opal. I got a nice natural-wood inscribed pot for Mark as he's got a little collection going (not that we have it out at the moment; all of our knick-knacks are still packed away until the Drew Monster is old enough to know they are not toys). Mark's parents found a gorgeous vase in similar fashion for a dining table centerpiece.

By the time we got to Sunset Crater, it was clear that I neglected to put on any sunscreen and was feeling the pain, so I hung out in the car while the rest of the group wandered a lava field. I did 'screen and hat up for a quick trek to one of the ruins at Wupatki. It's quite amazing to see those structures and imagine what it must have been like to have lived there.

After surviving another cold night, we struck camp and drove the scenic route down to Sedona for a quick tour and lunch. It'd had been seven years since Mark and I had been there as well, and it was nice to see all of the beauty of the area even around the human presence.

It was a lovely trip full of stunning views and good company. Last year, Mark and I decided to make a trip up to the Canyon once a year, and this was a great occasion for the second year of that decision. Next year, we plan to go to one of the more western areas that are not in the park but on reservations. Eventually, when Drew is old enough and we are fit enough, we'll arrange to go to Havasu Falls, one of the most beautiful spots in the world, supposedly. It involves quite a hike to get there, though, so let the boot camp begin!

Eat Well. Be Safe. And Shop!!

My dad, stepmother, and grandmother are due in any minute now, so I'm going to sign off for the Turkey Day weekend. I might be back on Sunday. Or not.

While I'm gone, take a look at these fine new products from Holly Lisle. This is a great time to work through a writing block or to stock up on products to help you nail your 2008 writing goals.

Just the How to Beat Writers Block course:



Just the 21 Ways to Get Yourself Writing When Your Life Just Exploded book:



The bundle of both above items as well as all of the "Create A" Clinics (a seriously good deal):



Holly's got a lot of great new things in the works, and the How to Beat Writer's Block audio course (plus bundled goodies) is the first of those. Her clinics have been great writing tools for me (I can't speak highly enough of the Create a Language Clinic), so check these out and maybe tell people where to shop for Christmas (if you do that, have them go through an affiliate--not necessarily me--so you can give someone else a holiday bonus; I recommend Lazette Gifford, click on either Ruins or Muse in her sidebar to take you to the shop through her link).

The Power of Suggestion

The Drew Monster is really starting to work on his vocabulary, mostly by deciding he likes to try out the words we ask him to say or the ones he hears us say a lot. You'd think that latter bit's a set up for the traditional toddler uttering of a four letter word in an inappropriate location. Nope, not our son. Not this family. No, the word he learned via repetitive hearings from both of his parents and tried out for himself is (drumroll please):

D'oh!

Delayed Milestone Announcement

With the activity surrounding Drew's birthday and with Mark's parents being in town, I totally spaced on blogging about the other big day that happened last week.

Mark and I celebrated our fifth anniversary last Friday.

We left Drewbie in the capable hands of my in-laws and went out for a very nice dinner at the Ahwatukee Melting Pot. I don't know if all of the tables were set up this way, but in our section of the restaurant, each table was enclosed in a curtained-off alcove. We had no idea that was how the restaurant was set up, but we couldn't have planned it better. They were also having a neat Mediterranean-themed special dinner, which was delish.

The only downside of the evening was discovering that the Barnes & Noble on the way back to the highway only sold books, not music and movies. (We had gotten on the topic of 80s hairmetal toward the end of our meal--the perils of living with a writer as I'm writing a book that makes liberal use of said music.) We were craving some Def Leppard and were bummed out to find only a vast stretch of books in the store.

We were further disturbed by the group of insanely young-looking kids mobbed outside of the store after 10PM on a Friday night. Some of them looked to be 14, but most of them looked to be about 12. I know I was raised with some fairly strict rules and curfews, so I may be drastically out of touch with the norm for what kids are allowed to do these days, but damn. What kind of parent lets their twelve-year-old hang out at a major strip mall (there's a movie theater and several other big box stores around the B&N) within spitting distance of a big-city interstate on a Friday night after 10PM? Drewbie may hate us for it, but not just no, but hell no if he ever asks to do that.

How appropriate that, on our fifth anniversary, Mark and I proved to the world our full emergence into the adulthood state of pining for old music and shaking our heads at kids these days. All we needed to complete the transformation was to have chatted loudly about "when I was that age..." to each other.

Another Birthday Bites the Dust

Today I turned 29. The day didn't start out so hot as the Drew Monster decided to wake up at 4:30 and Mark was feeling sick so I got Early Morning Boy Duty. Then Drew spent much of the day fussy because his schedule has been all bent out of shape with my travel this week. Then there was the DDJ work I had to do even though it was supposed to be my day off (and I have more work to do tomorrow, and more on Sunday...sigh).

But then I got an email from my high school buddy, Matt. His latest project be here. I've just scratched the surface of the site (it's in beta, so loading and such may be wonky--give it time, it's worth it), but my favorite so far is the "Slept Funny" video. Probably because I just got back from a stint at the DDJ. I also managed to call this illustrious and hilarious fellow for a bit today, and it's always fun catching up with him.

Also, I had managed to forget it was 'Gate Night, so I get fun first-run TV to enjoy after El Boyo Diablo is sleeping. And Mark and I exchanged birthday, half-iversary (we've been together six and a half years today), and Father's Day presents today, so we also have the "Men in Tights" DVD to watch.

And, as if the universe hadn't done enough to turn the day around, my mother stopped by with a couple of beautiful bracelets she made for me mostly out of turquoise. One of them has all these neat fetishes on it. Very cool.

So the day is winding down, and it looks to end vastly better than it began. Thus I start the first day of my last year as a twentysomething.

Vacay

The in-laws will be arriving tonight and leaving Tuesday morning. After that, Mark, Drew, and I are taking our first family trip to the Grand Canyon (there will be many more over the years). I won't be back until Thursday, so ya'll have fun without me.

Home at Last

Drew and I returned home late last night. We're both fighting the requisite traveler's head cold and dealing with mild general irritation from all of the hustle and bustle of the last ten days without Daddy. And I'm trying to dig myself out of a bad mood after dealing with the DDJ for the past three days in Colorado (yeah, not sure if I made that clear: Drew and I went from Chicago to Denver on Sunday for my monthly trip back to the DDJ, which was bumped up to this week within an hour of my planning my bereavement leave for last week).

So, here's hoping that next week will bring the much-needed return of normalcy so we can actually get on with settling into our new house.

Good-bye, Grandpa. I Love You.

I've spent a lot of time this past week starting posts about my grandfather in my mind and stopping, rejecting each beginning as not good enough for his memory. This is one of those things that you're so desperate to get right because it's so important that everyone know about a special person that they won't have a chance to meet themselves. Each word has to fit just so, each image clear, each emotion strong and touching without being overpowering or gooey with sentiment.

I don't think I'm up to the task.

Instead, I'll sketch out the few things that come quickest to my mind when I think about my grandfather. I have a feeling I'll always look back at this post and wish I had been a better writer at the time to do his life justice. But, as I finally realized tonight, no memorial is worse than a flawed one.

My grandfather was a three-pack a day smoker for a long time until one of his lungs collapsed. The docs told him that if he wanted to keep the other one from doing the same thing, he needed to kick the habit. So he did. One thing that helped keep the cravings at bay was hard candy, specifically root beer barrels. He always had a stash handy, and he usually didn't mind sharing (though he shared more of the candy as more time passed from his last cigarette). While I liked root beer well enough, I never did catch onto the taste of the candy, and I remember thinking a couple of times that I wished Grandpa preferred Sour Warheads (very popular at the time) so I could bum some off him.

Grandpa was an engineer, and thus he approached a lot of things with cool logic and heavy use of the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" axiom. This is why I remember him typing away at a very old model computer for a loooooooong time for games, car mileage/performance, family genealogy and addresses, and most likely a ton of other things that I never witnessed or heard of during my visits and phone calls. The computer was so ancient that it had a black background with green text and was accompanied by a dot matrix printer. But he still dove into new technology when a case was made for it (email, digital photography, TiVo, etc), and he would puzzle everything out so that he could sit you down and explain to you how each new-fangled device worked.

Of course, his sense of logic wasn't without a sense of humor. When we sent along Drew's first ultrasound pictures (way back when he was simply referred to as Junior), Grandpa started a file for the pictures on the computer. The file was named "great1" because it was for the first great grandchild.

Nor was his sense of logic without a resulting sense of frustration on the recipient. When my mom and I were visiting from Germany one summer, I took a driver's ed course so I could get my license. That's a blog post in and of itself, but it's enough for this post to say that my first attempt was unsuccessful. I came back to my grandparents' house feeling the humongous sting of failure, sure I was going to get ribbed endlessly. Upon hearing the official reason the witch of a driving instructor gave for failing me (at the first stop sign, I didn't come to a complete stop at the stop line but rolled forward a bit then stopped so I could actually see oncoming traffic), Grandpa got me right back into the car and took me around to each stop sign in the neighborhood for practice and technique refinement. At the time, I think this only made me feel even more humiliated, but now I understand it as a clear sign of Grandpa's sense of logic and love.

Now that I think about it more, the entire episode connects back to the very first memory I have of my grandfather. It was during my strange patchwork year of kindergarten, when I attended three different schools in two different states due to my father undergoing officer training school and transitioning from an enlisted servicemember to an officer. It was winter, and my mother, brother, and I were living with my grandparents. My grandfather, decked out in his camel-colored winter coat and black hat, walked me to the school just down the street from their house. I don't know if he walked me every day, or if it was just the once. But the sky was that deep blue only seen on a clear, cold winter day in the Midwest. The air bit every exposed patch of my skin and then some. My breath blurred and fogged the view of the sidewalk in front of me every now and then. And my grandfather walked right next to me, holding my hand to cross the street.

Those are the clear memories of my grandfather. All the others are either hazy with time or so wrapped up in memories of my grandmother, the home they created together, my aunts and uncles and cousins, and their neighborhood that it's hard to know where his smile ends and the rest begins.

Actually, I think that's exactly the way Grandpa would have me remember him.

Remembering My Grandfather

My grandfather died yesterday after fighting cancer for nearly two years. He went peacefully, surrounded by much of his family. The rest of his family arrived later in the day to wish his spirit well and join together in celebrating his life. He and my grandmother raised eight kids, and he saw eleven grandkids and one great-grandchild come into and grow in this world. And all of the kids, most of the grandkids, and the great-grandchild are here now to remember him.

I have many memories to choose from when thinking about my grandfather, but the one that will stick with me is from our trip to Grand Forks last year. Grandpa worked the trip in between his chemo schedule and still had the strength and will power to drive himself and my grandmother all the way from Chicago as he would usually do despite his illness. During the trip, he was just as spry, alert, and happy as I had always remembered him before he was diagnosed. We have a great video of him playing with Drew in the hotel pool. It's hard to tell who was having more fun.

Over the next few days, I'm sure I'll have a lot more memories to share. Hopefully I'll have the time to hop on-line and share them here as well as with my family. In the meantime, those of you who pray, please light a candle for my grandfather and for my grandmother, his wife of more than fifty years. For those of you who don't pray, please spare a moment to think kind thoughts for my family during this bittersweet time.

Turning the Corner

Ugh. It's been a while since I've felt comfortable in my life--like, since, I dunno, maybe early September? Stuff's just been coming at me so fast and furious that I've done a nifty turtle-trick and have been running on a somewhat engaged version of autopilot. I've had moments of feeling connected and normal, but they've been the exception.

It didn't take but a couple of weeks after moving to AZ that I realized how safe and secure I felt in our situation back in Colorado. Sure, it wasn't ideal and there was only a brief three-month period in 2002 that we ever thought it might last for a few years beyond Mark's PhD. But. Despite its flaws and inherent transitory nature, the situation really grew on me and gave me stability somehow. Thus, I spent a lot of the past three months feeling lost and, in the very bad places, wondering why we ever moved.

This lost sensation, in and of itself, is not exactly novel. But when coupled with the odd side effects of living with my mother again...how to explain? It took me a while to realize what the side effects were, but I figured it out when I was traveling a couple of weeks ago. As I was driving in the rental to the DDJ, I had this odd, proud, smug feeling of "Look, Ma! I did this all by myself!" The only reasion I dissected the feeling was because I remembered having it when I traveled back to the DDJ in December. I must've had a truly horrified expression on my face when I told myself, "Kellie, you are twenty-eight years old! You've been a Big Girl for quite some time now. Of course you can do this all by yourself."

That's when it hit me. Every child (and parent) can tell you that moving back in with the 'rents is no picnic. It's not fun to give up your hard-won independence (or your hard-won empty nest). But it's more than that. Without realizing it, I fell into old patterns of thought and behavior from my formative years. Because, well, I was living with my mom. I shudder to think how complete my transformation would have been had my parents not gotten divorced and I was living with the both of them in a home completely filled with the flotsam and jetsom of our family's history instead of only partially so. I was completely unprepared for what this aspect of living with my mom did to me, and it's going to take some effort to settle back into my own concept of self from September.

We'll be unpacking the last of the boxes this weekend and hanging up our photos and such. I think that will get me out of transitory mode and back into normalcy. Having a week in which we're not moving (or still tying up the loose ends associated with a move), having a car break down, taking care of a sick kid, traveling, and so on will help as well. It's two weeks before I have to go back to the DDJ. Here's hoping one of those two will be the one.

Sharing a Moment

Life is getting back to whatever passes for normal with an infant, and now I have time to process again. I finally have some time to reflect on the big event of the past month: the trip to North Dakota. We're advanced enough medically that five living generations of a family isn't as rare as it once was, but we're also changing society in a way that delays having children, so it may become rarer despite medical advances. At any rate, my family has been blessed to have five surviving generations, a linked bloodline of five people counting back to 1911. It was a great weekend of family memories and fun. And the side benefits were great: after spending all but the first month of Drew's life by ourselves, it meant a lot for so many of his relatives to be there to see Drew experience a pool for the first time, to watch as he first learned how to munch on his toes, to share in his amazing smiles. My grandfather worked the trip into his chemo schedule, and in a recent spate of news of bad weather across the country, it was a nice prayer answered that their drive back home didn't delay them and interrupt his very important regimen. My uncle who hasn't seen my great-grandmother in twenty-four years surprised us all by showing up for the weekend.

But all those great stories aside, I keep coming back to this picture. I know it will be the first image that comes to mind when I reflect on this trip over the years. The five generations picture is great--despite the fact that I've still got ten pounds of baby fat to lose--but it's posed, it's heritage. This picture here is a moment. Great-Great Grandma Arel is saying something to Drew, and he's listening intently. I'm not sure I heard what she said then, and I know Drew couldn't have understood it, but it seems to represent the entire point of the weekend. A sharing of wisdom, a serious encounter. Great-Great Grandma Arel is looking at Drew, fully aware of who he is and of who she is, the single point from which at least 50 people are connected by blood (and if I had a better grip on all my cousins, I'd know the exact number). And Drew is looking back, very serious, very attentive, with the mind of a beginner, full of curiosity, wondering who he is, who she is, and who those 50 people are and who else is to come.
I've never had much of a chance to get to know my great-grandmother well, and I'm not sure my mother had much of a chance either. Mom lived decently far away from North Dakota growing up--though not quite as far as I did--ensuring that any visit would be brief and usually a part of a "quick, we've got two weeks to visit everybody, gotta smush it all in" mindset. Plus, my great-grandmother hasn't been able to travel much herself for a while now. I do know that she lived on her own until a year ago when her circumstances no longer allowed her to do so. She's survived as a widow for thirty years (actually, longer than that, I think). And despite the fact that she hasn't been happy in the nursing home, she had lots of smiles for everyone that weekend. She keeps a rosary by her favorite chair and that chair doesn't face the TV in her room, it faces a bulletin board brimming with pictures of her family.

I hope Drew absorbed a lot in that moment, looking into his great-great grandmother's eyes. There's a lot of wisdom and love there, and even though I only had brief moments to encounter it myself, I feel truly blessed to have witnessed it at all. Yes, this picture will be the first image that comes to mind when I think of this special weekend.

Five Generations in One Room

I was going to write tonight. Honestly. Then the fracking car accident on Tuesday kept me up way past my bedtime. Then my brother called late last night and kept me up past my bedtime (of all the reasons to lose sleep, this comes in second to comforting Drew and taking care of him at night, meaning I don't mind). Then Northwest cancelled our later in the morning flight for one leaving at 7:30 tomorrow. And we live an hour away. And DIA is not an airport to chance getting there only an hour before your flight. Do the math. I will be crashing as soon as we are packed tonight.

Where are we going? Grand Forks, North Dakota. Drew will meet his great-great-grandmother and renew his acquaintances with his great-grandmother and his grandmother. He will dazzle them with his ability to smile at the least provocation, to babble excitedly at his pacifier, to grab his toes and roll onto his side, to roll onto his tummy, and to sit up all on his own for long periods of time. And we all get to watch as he experiences a swimming pool for the first time. Stretch-marked Momma will be covered from shoulders to knees and dangling her feet in the pool. (Actually, I really don't care too much what a bathing suit would reveal about my postpartum bod; I just don't feel like trying to squeeze the time and money in to buy a suit that I won't use again before I have lost the last bit of my pregnancy weight. Lemme clarify: I don't care what a one-piece bathing suit would reveal. Ain't no way in hell I'll be wearing a two-piece for a bit.)

Watch for fun pictures on Tuesday.

Drew's Newest Cousin

My aunt DeeDee welcomed her son, Hayden Christopher, into the world last night at 7:35PM. He was 8lbs, 3oz and 20in long, and he was six days past-due. This is Drew's newest first cousin once removed. Hopefully they'll be able to meet in March when as much of the family as can make it congregates in Grand Forks to hang out with my Great-Grandmother.

I haven't heard the details of the birth as yet. Hopefully Hayden didn't follow his cousin's example.

Merry Christmas

My Christmas gift to my readers: more pictures of Drew! Just what you wanted, right? :) This picture is my favorite, even if it does make my son look like he's already balding. All that's missing is our other cat, and it would've been perfect.

Tomorrow Mark and I endeavor to take Drew to Arizona via air. Seeing as how the last time we took him out (yesterday) he was a bit of a pill, we're not sure how the Little Guy will take to Denver International Airport or the flight itself. It shall be interesting and hopefully not too loud. Keep your fingers crossed that he's passed out for much of the experience.

Have a safe and happy holiday weekend. My next post will be about my first day back at work and without the boy. :(

Thankful

I'd meant to hop on-line a bit closer to Turkey Day and say something deep and profound about Thanksgiving and what the day meant to me, with thanks for my son's health--despite the early appearance of teeth and my own quirky medical issues--featuring prominently. And this post was going to be just a delayed "no, really, I'm grateful, just busy" post. Then I read Byzantium's Shores sad news, and the words "thankful" and "grateful" no longer seem adequate and on some level even feel inappropriate.

I've been following Little Quinn's saga since his birth, paying extra attention when I found out I was pregnant. I read their triumphs and trials, furiously taking mental notes about grace, patience, and parenthood in general. As I struggled with the complications from Drew's birth, I often found myself thinking how grateful I was that Drew was in perfect health. I mean, as painful, annoying, challenging, and ironic as my medical issues have been, I always found comfort in the fact that my son didn't have to deal with any of it--beyond the multiple trips to the doctor and ER with his momma. The only concern we've had with Drew was his weight gain in the first few days. Maybe it was the percocet edginess, but those few days of waiting to see him start putting on the ounces instead of dropping them were torture. And Drew wasn't in any pain or discomfort then.

I was grateful before. Now I'm doubly so. And Andrew's latest habit of only calming down in my arms is something I've now added to my Thanksgiving list. Because even though it means I have to type this one-handed, it also means I've got an armful of my son, and there's a father, mother, and sister who had such joyful cuddle time taken from them today.

A Random Sampling

Took a break this week while my grandmother was in town. Just did a lot of resting and reading, storing up some "me" time because I know it'll be sparse for a while. Haven't even been on-line since Monday. I should get into more of a regular schedule next week--assuming Andrew doesn't make a habit of staying up from 11:30PM to 3:30AM like he did last night. So, I just have a few random thoughts and links to post today.

It's possible to have enough sleep to perform most essential life functions and still goof on a few big things. Just ask Mark, who took the car to work on Wednesday and by the end of the day forgot he had and took the bus back home. He didn't realize what he had done until we walked out of our apartment Thursday morning for my doctor's appointment and couldn't find the car. The great comedic moment of the whole thing was when he turned to me--the person who hasn't driven the car in over a month, who isn't allowed to drive the car for at least another two weeks--and asked, "Where's the car?"

If one of the two quotes on a book cover mentions a "masterful interplay of subjective views", then chances are you're not in for a good action-packed character-based fantasy, regardless of the content of the author's previous novels. Such a quote would be a good bet for a nice philosophical read, but that's not usually what I'm looking for when I pick up a book, especially one by Jacqueline Carey. I read 300 pages before I realized that I wasn't quite sure what was at stake for the characters in the book beyond having their beliefs questioned by themselves and those of the opposing side. Maybe Banewreaker is just one of those "smart" books and I'm revealing my latent stupidity by not enjoying it or seeing its genius, but I just couldn't bring myself to finish the book. Can't believe I gave it 300 pages as it is. I turned around and read Bio Rescue in a day to scrub the experience from my mind.

Food Network and HGTV are great stations to put the TV on when you're moving around the house and such. No matter what show is on, you can always catch some sort of helpful hint whenever you happen to be in the room. Good background noise.

Newborns have some sort of sixth sense that enables them to know exactly when their parents need a nap the most so they can pick that particular time to begin fussing.

Losing 35 pounds in four weeks is awesome--unless you still have 25 more to go and the 35 you have lost are the easy pounds: baby, placenta, fluid weight, and the kicking in of fat stores for breastfeeding. It's especially less enjoyable if you're not allowed to exercise for an indeterminate amount of time. Compound this with the joys of stretch marks, and you find yourself remembering the body you had a year ago, which was already 10 pounds overweight, and realizing you'll never, ever see it again. But, hey, at least I don't need a wheelchair anymore to travel more than ten feet.

And something entertaining to end with.

Cool Stuff for Drew and His Room

Andrew's going to be one very smartly dressed little guy. My in-laws have done it again, sending me a baby shower in a box--well, three boxes, really. They did this for a wedding shower three years ago. Seeing as I don't really have family up here, and my local friends are for the most part starving writers in their forties and beyond, a true "surprise her with a party" shower just hasn't been in the cards. So the Buffalo relatives all congregate somewhere over there, have a little party, wrap up gifts and make cards, and send everything my way.

This time, Mark was kept in the dark also, as the shower was also for him as the Daddy-to-be. So we had a good time last night, opening the gifts and taking pictures of our reactions to Andrew's loot with the disposable camera they sent. Now we just need to finish setting up the nursery so we can put all the cool new stuff away instead of stacking it in boxes in the closet. (If we left everything just sitting out in the nursery, Addy would cover the homemade quilts with cat hair because she loves to lounge on soft stuff, and Nosey would introduce the monkey stuffie to every corner of the apartment, most likely trying to be friendly.)

Drew's got lots of cute outfits for the first year, which shatters Mark's original notion of just having the boy wander around in the buff, or maybe only in a diaper. (But knowing both of his parents, Drew is probably going to do a lot of fleeing from our hands after a bath to run around nekkid.) We also got the complete crib bedding set, now we just need the crib to put it in. And Drew also snagged his first play gym as well as assorted toys, stuffies, and books. He will be a well-entertained baby.

So a nice, big, family thank you to the in-laws for thinking of Mark, Andrew, and me all the way out here in Colorado. We had a great time with the baby shower in the box, the handmade cards were all adorable, and we'll send pictures of the nursery as soon as it's looking a bit more functional to show you how we've put your generous gifts to use.