Choosing happiness

I just returned from the most divine evening out. My friend and I met at Potager for a glass of wine(o.k. 2 for me) and some delicious...d.e.l.i.c.i.o.u.s. risotto. Fresh peas. A dash of fresh mint. A hint of pepper. That place just reminds me why I eat. The bartender helped us choose our dish and lovingly and carefully explained all of the items on the menu. Potager is totally organic and changes their menu seasonally to reflect what is grown locally - and naturally - at that time. What other bartender do you know that knows the menu that intimately...that well??? Most of them just say, "Yeah. That's good. Umm hmmm." She was so yummy. I could have eaten her up too. She also had very chic short nails. I am in love with nice clean short nails lately. They made her look efficient and clean yet totally natural and approachable. Round of applause for the risotto AND the great nails.

Not only was the food to die for...but so is my lovely lovely friend T. She is the kind of gal who makes you take a big deep sigh of relief. You just feel so good being around her. She is familiar...and I mean that in a way beyond the fact that I know her...of course. There is something deep within her that radiates a scent I know. We joked about not having prom dates. We wondered where THEY were today. THEY meaning the girls who had all of the dates in high school. Were they happy? Were they successful? We talked shoes. We admired her Rocket Dogs and gazed at my J. Crews admiringly. We talked about business plans and life goals. We talked health and wealth and past crushes and future dreams. I drove home feeling serene and calm - totally satiated.

When I meet good friends, the topic of choice always works its way into the conversation. Naturally. What are you CHOOSING to do? Who are you CHOOSING to be? It's interesting because after every one of these conversations my choices are reaffirmed. I believe in what I've chosen. Monogamy. Motherhood. These are things I care about deeply. V and Mia make me who I am. They are my choices. If I chose another person - another path... what would my life be like? I don't care if it would be full of money and trappings. Would the choice know to toast my bread not once but twice in the machine like V does? Would the choice know that I need 30 minutes EVERY night for a hot bath? Would the choice remind me that my 30 minutes is coming up like V? Would my choice call for me in the middle of the night and then settle quietly into my arms as I rock her back to sleep? Would my choice stare at me in admiration and wonder?

We are leaving for Tucson tomorrow. We are packed and ready. Me and my choices. I'll update you when I return. Wish us happy travels.

Little Miss Sunshine

Is there anything prettier than sun streaming through a window? I think not. Except Mia sitting in the midst of that sun streaming through the window. I just took these photos today of her as she played in her room. We had a delightful day. She helped me clean our pantry out and organize it. She sat in her Bjorn on my chest and grabbed and squealed as everything came out one at a time. Vinegar! Yea! Flour! Yea! Cereal! Yea! She was very helpful in deciding where everything should go. I know V will make fun of me when he gets home because I will insist upon giving him a "tour" of the new pantry. I do this regularly. I'll clean like a maniac and then explain to V how it should look. He is a good good man to put up with me.

Not a long post today. I want to begin to organize something else while Mia sleeps.

Cocktails for everyone

Funny that you should write about J.Crew dear sisserita (like a margarita - only better). I was JUST going to jot down a few thoughts of the mega retailer myself.

J.Crew and I had a very nasty breakup several years ago. There were tears and angry words. I cried on the shoulders of many. I felt used and mistreated. I still remember shouting, "Why oh why must they ONLY use tab closures on their pants?" as I torched the catalogs and watched all of those lovely girls I longed to look like in high school go up in flames. (O.k. - so the fire part is made up but still...) I watched as their prices increased without a care in the world on their part. It wasn't even as if I cared too much about the prices because I've been known to drop an obscene amount on silly items. (Like the time I spent ALL of my rent money (plus some savings and grocery money and spending money) on a Movado watch my first year out of college and then had to return it when rent was actually due...don't do that Mia if you're reading this.) I just didn't think the quality of the overpriced items was that good usually.

Then, a year or so later, J.Crew sweet talked me back into his life. He wined and dined me and made me feel safe and very very pretty. I was hooked - again. It was a season of great tees and flip flops. There were two dresses involved in the affair that I still wear regularly (hello blue linen - you lovely little thing you). And then it all came crashing down. Disaster - again. There were ill fitting pants involved in this breakup and lots and lots of items that felt cheap. Seriously, who runs things over there? I believe there is great inconsistency in their sizing, styles, and quality. We were off for a bit - except for the occasionally awkward run in which usually left me feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

So - I'm up to the present and we're back at it. Happy. In love. We're talking about vacationing on the cape with my new warm sunflower driving mocs and city fit shorts. We're going to stroll hand in hand in our three quarter length sleeved perfect fit tees and I'm going to wear my butterfly headband. We will have cocktails on a deck overlooking the ocean. We're very very happy. I'm hoping this is the end of the drama of our past. I'm saying this Emily because you just need to accept our relationship. I think I can teach you to love again.

My mom called tonight from a hotel in Florida. Her flight was cancelled due to inclement weather in Dallas, her mid way stop. I didn't like picturing her there in a cold hotel room by herself. I called her to help boost her spirits and take her mind off of being delayed AND alone. I was a bit too late. My incredibly resourceful and independent mom had just spent a bit of time at the bar - ordering two martinis and making a list to occupy her time. She filled a cocktail napkin with thoughts on the day. She made two lists, the good things that happened and the bad things. Her good list far outweighed the bad. THIS is my mom in a nutshell. Most people would have sulked in their poorly lit hotel room with a can of coke and a bag of cheetos. They would have channel surfed until they fell asleep feeling unfulfilled and angry. Not Mom. She made a moment. She had two cocktails and reflected on the day. Not only did she discover that it was a pretty good one afterall but she looked stylish and classy while doing so. Props to you Mom. I have modeled my own life after yours and dad's and that decision to do so is reaffirmed every single time we talk. Even when you are alone in a far away city unplanned. Mia, again if you are reading this, your Nana is trail blazer. Watch and learn baby girl. Watch and learn.

Raining Moments

It's a rainy day today and I love it. It does make life a bit harder - bundling Mia up, walking Bijou, screaming at her as she runs (with wet muddy paws) throughout the house and onto my new white sheets, dealing with the sad reality that my swingy, swishy layers won't be able to withstand the power of rain, and knowing that hanging out outside is a no go. BUT, on the plus side, I can lounge in comfy clothes and praise my closet for being full of drawstring yoga pants rather than curse it for being full of....drawstring yoga pants. I can write and I feel writerly. I can snuggle in bed and feel cozy. There are positives to everything. It's all in the way you look at it.

This a.m. I am pondering why Hollywood thinks Kirsten Dunst is ugly. Why? I think she is adorable. Quirky. Check. Kind of snaggle toothed. Check. Odd choices for red carpet events. Check. These things all add up to create her appeal though. If you don't fit the mold, you're ugly I guess. God life is tough for women.

I watched the Bachelor last night and I don't know why the network keeps creating new seasons. I should be flattered that they care this much about my obsession with the show, considering I am the ONLY one on the planet that still watches it. It is ridiculous but I love it. Although, I did fall asleep before the most dramatic rose ceremony ever. I need to find out who is still in the running to have her dreams fulfilled as she becomes the wife of the officer and the gentleman. (Note my sarcasm here.)

I thought of Dad yesterday on my run. He worked out three times a week with a group of older men. The ROMPIs. Dad nicknamed that. Retired Old Men Pumping Iron. When I first had Mia, he brought over breakfast one morning after his workout. We sat at the table and laughed and talked as Mia sat snuggled in my arms. She was just a teeny tiny that day. As Dad would say, "a little bit of a thing". It was just one moment of many. I have a million moments cataloged in my head. They surface all of the time. Can you imagine not having the ability to capture moments? Harness them and revisit them? I'm always thinking of him - pulling out a moment and spending time with it.

I feel pretty...oh so pretty

I just got my haircut on Friday and I feel damn good. It’s not that different – shorter and more layers, but it feels smooth and swingy. How I love a good cut. I’ll grow tired of this in no time but for now, I’m happy.

Our weekend has been delightful thus far. We went out to dinner Thursday night with Mia and then walked around the mall. V asked me what moment or event in history I would return to if given the chance. He would go back to The Band’s Last Waltz at Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco – Thanksgiving 1976. Maybe it wasn’t 1976. 197something. I still don’t know my moment yet. I’m thinking. We also tried pinpointing ONE word to describe us. An all encompassing word. Again, I was unable to do it. TRY (nah…sounds as if I’m always striving) EXPLORE (nope…doesn’t express the content side of me) FULL (maybe….but doesn’t reveal the element in me that is open to new things - plus, it makes me sound fat). V was unable to do it too. Hard eh? Mia talked and shrieked happily the whole time we were eating so her word was LOUD. She has discovered her own voice and loves loves loves to just yell excitedly around the room. I was beaming, maybe inappropriately so, as I inhaled my burger and fries. I was just thrilled to be out to dinner with two people I love so much. I think V was a bit embarrassed that I was this excited to be at Johnny Rockets. He kept laughing and saying, “THIS is all it takes to make you happy beyond measure?” Yup. I’m so easily pleased. It was a moment though. Eating with our baby, talking about things that are fun to talk about, awaiting the weekend ahead of us….this is what life is all about.

Mia had her first swim class on Saturday and she was a rock star. She is the youngest in the class at 6 mos. old. She LOVED it. She splashes and kicks (I think she is gifted). She showed no fear and was so easy going. V was scared of the water as a little boy and I think he was afraid that maybe Mia would be too. He had this look of relief and pride when he discovered that she was a water baby. I think as parents we think so much is inherited. Sure, some is but a lot of who we become is dependent upon our surroundings. V now loves the water, so do I. I’m sure Mia will be a confidant little swimmer because of this. If she’s not, that’s o.k. too. She’ll find her own activities and sports that suit her best. I felt such pride being there with her. Not because she was the best swimmer (although, let’s not kid ourselves, she was). Not because she was the bravest or the strongest or the fastest (well, she was but that’s not the point), but because she was mine and I was hers. That’s what made me proud - that we were there together.

It’s a quiet Sunday morning and I'm awaiting the day. A yoga class. A b-day BBQ for a friend. And fast internet connection (Thanks Comcast for coming out this a.m. I usually spew hateful words toward you but now I'm happy with your service).

One quick note about the hair....I was looking through a magazine yesterday and they had two photos of Gwyneth Paltrow. One was taken in her early 20s. She had dark blonde hair and it was layered and longish (sound familiar?). The other photo was taken recently. Her hair is platinum and pin straight. I looked at the photos and I felt good because I love the old natural Gwyn's look. I thought that my hair now looks like her hair then. Then I read the caption..."Gwyneth goes from mom next door hair then to gorgeous ultra glam hair today!" Oh wait a damn minute....mom next door? Is that me? Has 6 mos. of motherhood thrown my gauge for anything cool THAT off kilter? Mom or not...I stand by my beliefs. Fan of her old look. Not a fan of her new one.

I'm happy today because I married the nicest human on the planet. Last night we were driving home from babysitting A and M's adorable brood. It was late - 11:00p.m. Mia was sound asleep in the backseat. It was drizzling. We were quiet while we listened to music. V then says, "You know I look at the world differently now that we have Mia." I agreed but asked him to explain what he meant. He said, "I just look at other people, even people that really irritate me, and I feel kindness toward them because I know that they were once just like Mia. They were someone's Mia." That's my V. God he is so much of a better person than I am. Mia...you scored sweet baby girl to have a daddy like the one you do. You and I will always have that in common; both of our dads hung the moon.

The Blowout

These are some pictures of Mia's big day - six months old. We partied like it was....5 o'clock on a Wed. evening. Big big blowout.

A Lifetime

I feel as if I've lived a lifetime in the last 24 hours. Some days just feel more meaty than others.

Mia turned six months old today. Not a milestone to some maybe, but for us it was reason enough to throw a party...for four. Invitations went out to me, V, Bijou, and of course Mia. Everyday with this girl is a gift; we make no apologies for acting accordingly. The day began with our usual breakfast and playtime. Mia is very into her food now. I was worried that I would have a 6 year old nursing before running off to school because of her love of breastfeeding but I don't think that will be the case. She loves bananas, pears, peas, sweet potatoes, and winter squash. Love may be a strong word but she certainly doesn't object to any of the above. After I put her down for her morning nap, I eagerly awaited her first trip to the gym nursery. I have been waiting for the day that she turns six months old because that is the age the gym will accept babies. When she woke up, we skipped off to what I thought would become a daily ritual for us. To say I was disappointed is an understatement. The room was warm, too warm. I looked around and nothing felt familiar. A little boy befriended Mia right away by sticking his hand, his presumably very very dirty hand, in her face. This didn't go over well with me and I told the gal working there. She understood completely and I was comforted by her attentiveness to my fear until she lifted her arm...in a cast. She explained that she wouldn't be able to take Mia out of her car seat because of her broken wrist. Isn't the ability to lift a reasonable amount of weight a requirement for childcare workers? Apparently not. I left the room to say that I did it but I scooted back in after 10 anxiety ridden minutes. Of course, Mia was happy as a clam looking around, completely unaware that I had even left. I took her home for a run in her jogger with her own people (me and Bij) and we loved every minute of it. Now that the weather is nice, we are going to workout together - Mia in her jogger, me huffing and puffing behind it and the Bij eating other dogs' poop as she darts after us. That's the way work - together.

V came home to a celebratory dinner. I made brownies for the big bash but ate almost half of them throughout the day. Whoops. We lit candles and cheered for our baby girl.

I met my friend Erin tonight for a movie date. We both just read The Namesake and loved it. Jhumpa Lahiri is a phenomenal writer and I was excited to see how the movie translated that rich lush prose. I wasn't disappointed. The movie captures a lot of the heart of the book. It lacked much of the development but don't all film adaptations? I was bracing myself for an emotional couple of hours before the movie began. The father dies in the book and I read it just after my own dad's death. I was almost worried to watch it on screen. I found myself crying just before the father's death in the movie. I knew it was coming and watched and listened to the characters interact with him for the last time. They didn't know they were exchanging their last words...but I did. They didn't know that their lives were about to change...but I did. I remember my own last words. Knowing something in retrospect makes it all the more profound. When the wife received the phone call informing her of her husband's death, I flashed back to my own phone call. I was in the moment of my dad's death.

The movie was cathartic. I was able to feel pain for someone else in a way that I couldn't before. With sorrow comes depth.

I think I would have been much more emotional throughout the film if we hadn't been sitting in front of old people. The most tense scene, the phone call that Ashima (the wife) receives about her beloved husband's death, is interrupted by the man behind us saying - quite loudly I might add - "IS HE DEAD?" His wife gently - and quite loudly - explained that "YES. HE'S DEAD." I wanted to be in that moment - feel Ashima's welling terror and heartache - but I couldn't. The loudies behind us ruined that for me and in a way, I thank them. I like to have my moments alone. I didn't want to be caught sobbing in a theater.

Happy half way mark baby girl. We love you more than you'll ever know. When my computer decides to let me post pictures, I'll post them.

Creekside Manor

Mia is down. But it wasn’t without a fight. I caved and went in and got her after about 15 minutes of crying this afternoon. I just can’t stand any longer than that. I put her in her stroller and off we went for a walk with Bijou. It has turned out to be a gorgeous day and walks usually put her fast to sleep if she is tired. It did the trick. Bijou had a ball, as usual. We always let her off leash behind our house and she loves it. She ate just the right amount of other dogs’ poop and was able to swim in what I call the creek. The word creek just sounds fresh and wholesome, doesn’t it? We know damn well that the Highline Canal water is hardly fresh and wholesome. Bijou loves it though. She barks after the ducks, chases bits of bark that float by, and sloshes deftly along the banks. I must call it a creek to make myself feel cleaner because Bij sleeps with us at night. I don’t even want to know what kind of things she is harboring deep within her curly fur as she snoozes alongside us. Beaver Fever anyone?

I am feeling really really good today. I must admit, I was in a funk the past week or maybe several. I was just feeling overwhelmed, tired, and sad. I have also recently discovered that I have horrible hair. H.O.R.R.I.B.L.E. So, I was rightfully a bit depressed. The hair is still awful, God awful, but the dark cloud has subsided. I’ve started this silly little eating plan from Health Magazine and I love it. Maybe that has something to do with how I’m feeling. I’m a firm believer in the connection between diet and emotional well being. I feel like a 13 year old. I ripped out the 7 day meal plan (complete with snack ideas too) and am following it religiously. I honestly think that the reason I like it is because it provides even MORE structure to my already structured existence. I like that I don’t even need to think about what to eat. Normally I like to linger over cookbooks and plan menus for every week. I enjoy cooking and all of the spontaneity that comes with it. For some reason though, I just need a break. I just want someone to have done all of the leg work for me. This plan fits the bill. The problem with this plan though is that I have a darling 160 lb. husband who is starving to death. The guy cannot exist on such little portions. He is a man! So, in my attempt to achieve physical perfection and a mental/emotional/spiritual state of enlightenment through diet, he is withering away. I have a surprise for tomorrow which will please all of the Pellegrinos quite a bit though. Dessert anyone? It’s Mia’s 6 mos. birthday and we are celebrating. She is going to invite her best friends: her closest confidant Bijou, me, and Daddy. Should be a rager.

I am going to enjoy the rest of this lovely day and revel in my happy state. With a stinky poodle at my feet, a sleeping baby in her room, and a great book to read – I am happy indeed.


I want to send my love to Hadley for the adorable picture she sent for Mia. We love you!

Perfect Sandwich

I call this picture, "Peanut Butter and Creamy Jelly." V has the most beautiful skin an Irish lass has ever seen. He is the color of peanut butter and just as smooth. He has always been a lovely compliment to my jelly skin. I am pink and lumpy, like sweet raspberry jam. We managed to create a little bit of perfection; Mia came out as creamy jelly. Wouldn't you like to bottle that? Actually, someone once did. Remember "Goobers"? It was that weird peanut butter AND jelly in a jar. Not good...at all. Mia is MUCH tastier.

Mine

I always knew I loved the name Mia but it becomes more beautiful to me everyday. We chose the name because it means “mine” in Italian. You use it when you are referring to something near and dear to your heart; the phrase “Mama Mia” exemplifies that well. It is actually the Latin word for mine. All of the romance languages, which are descendents of Latin, probably use some derivative of the word. I know it to be true in Spanish anyway. I just found out that the word “Mia” is a Thai word as well. It is pronounced “my”. I don’t know what the word means in Thai but I thought the pronunciation was an interesting parallel to the Western meaning. I think it is such a powerful sentiment with such a feminine sound – MIA. Isn’t that we all strive for as women? To be a force yet to be feminine as well? We want to be the makers of our own destiny. MY destiny. We want to be the seekers of our own truth. MY truth. We want to be the rulers of our own lives. MY life. We want to be the keepers of our own power. MY power. Yet, we also want to be feminine. We want to uphold our ancestral legacy of being givers, caretakers, and lovers. That’s the beauty of our gender I guess. We make what we wish of ourselves. MYSELF. I know the path that my own sweet Mia will walk, because I am walking it. If you don’t have a sense of self, you will get lost. Hopefully, her name will remind her to be true to the one person it’s important to be true to.
Being a woman is a difficult balance. I used to think it was just modern women who were subjected to the impossible feat of having it all: being ballsy, smart, driven, successful (however you define that), sweet, soft, nurturing, and creator of perfect children. It isn’t just modern women though who have to walk this tightrope. My grandmothers, my great grandmothers, my great great grandmothers, all strived to have it all. Their “all” may have looked different than ours but it certainly existed. I’ve mentioned my love for anything historical and I think one reason I have loved to explore women of the past is because their roles were so defined. Yes, this makes their roles more limited but defined none the less. I used to think that my life would be easier if such structures existed for me. I’m realizing that isn’t true though. My ladies of the past were working hard to push cage bars open while my ladies of the moment are furiously working to find bars to hang onto to. Whether we existed in the past or exist in the present, work is involved. We are still striving for the perfect balance. I know Mia will too. I want her to know that she may never find it, but she can take solace in herself. If I have done my job as her beloved mama, she will take safe haven in her own heart. Mia. Mine. Belonging to no one but herself.

Apostrophe

There is a store on Evans that I drive by everyday. It's some kind of window store. There is a big electric sign above it that displays messages. The message for the past month or so has been, "Pray for Mom's" That's it. I'm plagued by this. Mom's what??? I thought that the message may be one of those rotating ones so I watched it one day as I drove ever so slowly by. Nope. It doesn't rotate. It's just a blatant misuse of an apostrophe. I'm guessing we are supposed to be praying for ALL moms and not just one mom's mystery condition. I could be wrong. Maybe this is some creative ploy to get us into the store to ask what in the hell we're praying for. I'm a sucker for proper usage and mechanics. It does baffle me that some people truly think the rule for apostrophes is "if there is an "s", add one".

You take the good -You take the bad

So I did this celebrity look alike game on myheritage.com All I can say is thank God that Natalie from Facts of Life didn't show up. With the amount of junk I've eaten pre and post Mia, I'm surprised. I'm happy with Rachel Bilson. I'm not dumb though; I don't look like her even if you're blind and you've had several hundred drinks. I'm sure the creators of this website are savy enough to know that the dorky moms (like myself) who log on want to look like attractive women. Mission accomplished.

Who are the two women on both ends of the bottom row? Melissa Joan Hart (middle of the bottom row) kind of made my heart drop. I just don't like her. I know that comparison is true too because a guy at a bar once told me that I looked like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Yeah...that didn't go over so well.

So I'm adding this after my sister was able to see my celebrity look alikes. Apparently there was a problem over at myheritage.com because ol' sissie was deemed to be u.g.l.y. by the peeps that run the show. She sent in her picture and she won't even tell me the names of the celebrities they sent back...because she didn't even know half of them. There is nothing worse than being compared to an ugly OBSCURE celebrity. She said they were all unattractive brunettes. How is this possible? Sissie is gorgeous. And blonde. Hmmm....now I'm hurt and sad because I don't even think the program is legitimate. I think they just generate any photos against every photo sent in. Rachel Bilson? Come on. At least I believed I looked like her for a few minutes. That was a good few minutes.

Parallel Play...with a kiss...and a new sweater vest

MeggieDo List

Today is a day to get organized. I made a list for myself yesterday with things that need to be done around the house. First order of business...find an electrician. Our ceiling fan in our bedroom is on a remote control. It goes on periodically throughout the night - on high - with the lights too. So, at 1:00 a.m. I am often aroused by what feels like the Gestapo coming to interrogate me complete with bright lights beaming into my face and cold air whizzing past my head. And I thought an infant would be the culprit of keeping me up at night. My brother in law thinks the remote control is somehow connected to a neighbor's garage door. He thinks that when they open their garage, our fan will go on. I ask, we can put a man on the moon, yet my fan goes on when my neighbor decides to run an errand? Must find an electrician. The other things on my list are silly: order a new battery for my beloved laptop, fix Mia's tire on her jogger, remove stuck DVD from DVD player (???), and clean. The cleaning is always on my list so that isn't nearly as exciting as the other things.

I'm pleased with myself because we have no food in the house yet I still found enough to make shrimp scampi and a roasted red pepper and asparagus salad for dinner. I shouldn't be THAT pleased with myself considering scampi requires five ingredients - and one is pasta. Who doesn't have pasta in their pantry? I do love using ALL of the items in our cabinets and fridge. It's like using exact change when buying something. I'm a relic; I STILL get off on that. I don't even know if others still carry change.

It's snowing out - big fat flakes that aren't sticking. I am happy to be inside, with Mia napping. I'm going to go upstairs and get back in bed with the poodle to read EAT, PRAY, LOVE. Emily's suggestion and it's great so far. When I started it I was worried it would be fluffy and frivolous. It has more meat than I expected. I like being surprised. I so rarely am and it's delightful to discover something I didn't think I would. Being more open is something I could work on.

I'm in the mood for a pedicure, a great new pair of jeans, a delicious coffee, and an indie flick. I think all of these things are in my near future. My trip to Seattle will deliver all I'm sure. Seattle or bust!

Newsworthy

This whole schedule business is working out beautifully. My day has such structure now and I love it. I'm not too different from an infant; I need to know when I'm going to eat, sleep, and play. Is this a sign that I'm not fully evolved? Maybe other adults don't crave routine the way I do. I guess I don't care really about the needs of other adults. I'm thirty and finally figuring out that it's o.k. to be who I am. I need structure. There I said it. Now I can move on.

I was watching this interesting report on FRONTLINE the other night about the direction of journalism. What is news? What qualifies as important news? I think this question is so indicative of the direction we are going as a people. No one really has a clear understanding of what's important - at all. The president of ABC was interviewed and he said that he doesn't feel that the news has been dumbed down, just "broadened." He feels that what we generally deem noble is still being covered. News is just more inclusive now of everyone. He doesn't feel that these more inclusive pieces are ignoble at all. My question is...who are we being more inclusive of? Total losers? Why do we need to include them? Who is interested in half of the crap that is reported on daily in this country? Seriously. Now, mind you, I do love celebrity gossip, which is sinful I know. The fact that I can whip anyone in a competition of "Name that celebrity baby" is embarrassing and a waste of brain power. I know this. I find all of my salacious gossip in magazines that I KNOW don't carry any valuable news. They are trash. I, as a consumer, buy them KNOWING they are trash. I guess I have a problem with reputable news sources - CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, etc. falling pray to "more inclusive" journalism. I look to them for real news! I disagree with the president of ABC. While being more inclusive may sound, well, more inclusive, it's lowering the expectations for everyone. When you have low expectations, you have low results. Isn't this common knowledge? Remember when news used to be just that, news? Even being a web based news reader (my generation doesn't watch the evening news), it is virtually impossible to not be distracted by "more inclusive" pieces. Garbage.

Mia and I are going to go out together today. Perhaps an outdoor shopping mall. How I love this kid. I hear her talking upstairs in her crib and already my hear is a flutter.

Book it

The play last night, Pure Confidence, was great. It was quiet but very moving. It was about a young black man, a slave, who was a great jockey during the years leading up to the Civil War. It is a story of racism, hope, freedom, self reflection, and realization. I love live theater. Before we went to the play, I had no idea what it was about. I knew it was a period piece because Mom had shown me the ad for it in the paper. I knew I would love it. If it's a period piece, it has me at hello. V knows that too. If he's watching something in the basement, he'll shout up if there is something on about history that he thinks I would like, especially the Tudor era in England. He'll also shout up if The Hills or The Bachelor are on too. I'm not ALL about period pieces.

I actually gravitate to historical/ historical fiction books too. I can't get enough of it. It started when I was little: Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, etc. I remember my mom reading Strawberry Girl by Lois Lenski to my sister and I in the back seat of the suburban on a road trip. It's set in the backwoods of Florida and follows a little girl and her farming family. Mom put on the accents and I LOVED it. I don't know what it is about historical fiction that sucks me right in. Maybe the simplicity of the past. People had to have a relationship with nature in order to survive. That has always appealed to me. I used to wish I were Laura Ingles Wilder. I wanted to have long hair in braids and run around Plum Creek with Jack, the dog. I wanted to go to bed by a fire under a quilted blanket. When I used to play outside by the pond by our house in Littleton, I used to pretend I was a pioneer girl. I wasn't five or six either. I was ten or eleven. It's pretty obvious I was a late bloomer.

My sister and Hadley are listening to The Mouse and the Motorcycle on tape. LOVE IT. Hadley is such a cool kid. She has also read most of the Harry Potter books. Peter reads them to her at night. She begs for them. There is something about her that I know. She's my niece so of course she's familiar but it's deeper than that. She likes to be outside and she loves bugs. She's polite and funny. She loves animals and is very sweet to them. She is great with Bijou. NO ONE is great with Bijou. This little spunky five year old is. I just see so much of Emily and me when we were little in her. Finn and Mia are still a too little for me to see that.

I almost spit out my coffee when I read Emily's post about Sweet Vally High books on tape. How I loved those! I wanted to BE Elizabeth or Jessica Wakefield. This is obviously a few years after my obsession with wanting to be Laura Ingles Wilder. I wanted to have long blonde hair and drive a Fiat. Remember the narrator's voice? It was so dramatic and deep. Each one ended with such a cliff hanger. God I loved that series.

Books were such a huge part of my childhood. A big part of my life too now. I have so many memories of reading. I remember mom reading White Fang to me in bed when I was in sixth grade. What sixth grader reads Jack London? I remember I LOVED it though. I loved Where the Red Fern Grows because my brothers loved it. Old Dan. Little Anne. I cried! Each book is tied to something or someone. It's so emotional being a reader. I get so invested in the characters and become them in a way. I guess it's my way of acting. I can live through so many experiences but I don't have to feel the consequences. Maybe all of this is why I became a teacher. I knew I wanted to teach kids to read. I wanted to give them a place to be - in books.

I read to Mia everyday and she likes it too. She eats the pages and pushes my hands out of the way so she can pat the book with her hand. No, she doesn't understand the story or even understand that the text on the page carries a message. Obviously. She has a relationship with books though. They are scattered on her floor. She owns them. This is huge. Many students I work with don't own a single book. Not one. I look at little Mia and think how lucky she is. Me too. How lucky I am. I am surrounded by great books. You are never alone with great books. You always have someone with you.

Themeless and Happy

I have so much to say and it's only been a 1/2 of a day since I've written. I just hung up with Emily and our conversations are always fantastic. We jump from one topic to another seamlessly. We also speak so quickly that no one can follow. She has said we sound like two Asian women at a fish market. No offense to any Asians of course. I just told her I had to hang up to blog some thoughts before they disappeared into thin air. My mind was exploding with things to write down.

First of all, I am a devoted Dawson's Creek fan. The music comes on and I immediately fall transfixed. Oh Joey. Oh Pacey. I find the opening song haunting. I know. Paula Cole and haunting probably shouldn't be mentioned together. I just love love love the show. It reminds me of being a teen. It was such a weird time in life. I was funny, but didn't know it. I was smart, but didn't think it. I was pretty, but couldn't believe it. Here you are, ready and ripe for the world, but you just can't imagine anyone thinking you are anything special. It is so heartbreaking really. Remember when Dawson's Creek first came out and all of the critics hated the show because they thought the dialogue was so overly developed? They thought no normal teen would possibly communicate with such eloquence. Yes...God forbid we actually assign SOME shred of intelligence to teens on TV. How will anyone relate to them? No wonder we have a lot of screwed up kids here in this country. Not only do they not believe in themselves, no one else does either.

On to my next topic...I have begun working out again and I feel so good. I am in the midst of a study between mental well being and exercise. I have concluded so far that the two go hand in hand. When I was living solely on bread products and not working out after my dad died, I felt like crap. Now, I am still loving anything carb related but at least I'm working out. I have begun to feel a bit better. I took a spinning class yesterday and the woman in front of me looked as if she were cut from marble. I sat behind her, admiring her drive to achieve that body. Meanwhile, I peddled away, feeling like I was carved from peanut butter. My goal is to lose the peanut butter effect on move on to something a bit more solid. I don't need to be marble but perhaps clay. I am determined to keep up the gym routine to keep a balance in my life.

Speaking of routines...Mia is on one! I am thrilled. I feel like....a mom! I can now officially say, "No. I can't then. Mia naps at that time" or "We would love to go but we can't, Mia naps." I know that sounds crazy but I love this about my life now. I KNOW that I will have a few hours during the day to get stuff done.

I am also going to try to write down reasons why I'm happy when they come up. There are three this a.m.

1. V makes me happy because he digs through my purse (the scene: cough drop wrappers, receipts, gum wrappers, etc) and finds my cell phone. I find it charged and ready to go on the kitchen counter in the mornings.

2. He also has the dishwasher unloaded because he knows that's my least favorite chore. That makes me happy.

3. Mom and I have a date tonight for a play. Cost of ticket: I don't know. The tickets were given to us, cost of parking - 10 dollars, cost of wine at intermission - 7 dollars, cost of a night with a very cool woman who just happens to be my mom - priceless.

I thought I had more profound things to say today but I guess I don't. I'll call Sissie back to resume our conversation. When she moves here, our thrice daily dialogues will be much easier.

S.O.L. Mia

Bijou had a lovely Easter too. She jumped on my mom, sampled some Brie and snooped around for droppings and treats. I took her photo gathered with her friends. Silent Monkey (the colorful one on the end), Polly (the white poodle in the middle), Chicken (no description necessary), Classy (the striped dog in front of the others), and finally, the favorite, Chip (who is really a racoon but V and I think it looks like a chipmunk). Silent Monkey and Chicken are actually Mia's. Correction...WERE Mia's. Anything stuffed becomes Bijou's. She stole a new one today, a cute stuffed bunny from Nana named Nibbles. Sorry Mia; any stuffed animal in your future will have the same fate as these above.

Springtime in Alaska

Today is Easter. I woke up feeling a bit overwhelmed with emotion. I guess it was knowing that today would be the first holiday celebrated without Dad. I knew it would be hard. Juxtaposing new life, Mia, with a loss of life is such an interesting balancing act. I was excited for her to experience a first, knowing that I was experiencing a different kind of first. I was heavy hearted but hopeful too.

I was so excited to put her in her Easter dress and show her the Easter basket, the same basket I used when I was growing up. It was a moment that passed quickly but that didn't go unnoticed in my very nostalgic heart - watching Mia look at and poke the very basket my mom filled with love for me every year. My heart swells just writing that.

Mom and I shared the work of dinner and we prepared a feast. It was beautiful. My mom mentioned that the last time we had a meal of this caliber at our house was Christmas. My parents celebrated Christmas Eve with us and it was so fun. I remember laying down that night telling V that I voted my parents my favorite couple friends. He agreed. My mom said that we probably wouldn't have a Christmas that civilized and lovely for a long time. With growing kids and the craziness of the holidays, we knew that four adults enjoying chatting and sipping wine with a sleeping baby was a luxury not to be seen for years to come. She said that night would be a special memory. How right she was at the time and we didn't even know it.

We prayed before dinner today and toasted Dad. He would have loved this day. Snowy. Just like the day he met my mom in Boston.

It's been a leisurely late afternoon. Mia napped next to me in bed and I never wanted the nap to end. I liked her snuggled up next to me. She began to wake up a few times and her little arms pushed out to feel beside her. When she felt me, she went back to sleep. That's motherhood. That moment today was what I used to lay in bed at night and pray for when we were trying to get pregnant. I knew those moments from my own childhood - feeling safe and happy and secure. I desperately wanted to be given a chance to be the giver of those feelings. How lucky I am.

Mom reminded me that Easter is a rebirth. Here is to starting a new phase. Here is to little lives and large ones that linger with us still.

Happy Easter.

You'll always be our girl

I want Bijou to start blogging because it would be the best read.

Project Mia

V and I are trying to get Mia on a schedule. This is grueling work. The ritual starts with the soothing. You know the drill: quiet atmosphere, dark room, a quick little song, maybe some breastfeeding and then into her crib. I close the door and then repeat a mantra over and over again in my head as my nerves run haywire listening to her cry. She is tired and needs to sleep. I am doing this for her. She is tired and needs to sleep. I am doing this for her. Finally, after 10 to 20 minutes, I hear silence. She is out. Asleep. Peacefully. Keep in mind that I have tiptoed down the stairs about 15 times in order to crawl in through her bedroom door and peek into the crib without her seeing me. This is an art. Grueling work I say because this is done three time s a day! Granted, we just started this today so I'm hoping that in a few weeks, there won't be any crying and the routine will be in place. I'm not a slave to schedules but I do think babies like to have order in their lives. They are so out of control - being picked up, poked at and prodded - that a set routine gives their lives some stability. If we give Mia anything, I would like it to be a sense of calm and safety.


I read a great quote today. "If life isn't funny - it's just true." Carrie Fisher said it to Drew Barrymore as she interviewed her for Glamour Magazine. Sort of an embarrassing place to find a quote which holds such relevance but hey, we all find depth in different bodies of water. Mine just happen to be fluffy fashion magazines on the ocassion. Humor makes the truth bearable.

I need to find something funny about the fact that Mia is now up, after a measly thirty minute nap. Or else it's just true.

Sing Meg Sing

There is one other thing that has been swimming around in my head today that I wanted to write down.

It's a message to V...

Dylan's Lay Lady Lay sends chills up my arms everytime I hear it. If I could manage to write as beautifully as he does I would have left you a note a long time ago that said, "I long to see you in the morning light. I long to reach for you in the night." Something about that line - something about its purity and simplicity - reminds me of how much I love you and why I chose you. I listen to that song all of the time. For you V.

Out of Gas

My parents met today, Good Friday, in Boston in 1965. Dad wore a camel hair coat and after the date Mom said that if she didn't marry him, she would marry someone just like him. My parents have shared the stories of that fateful Easter weekend so many times that if feels like I was there. I know that it was a snowy day, the day they met. I know that Dad ran out of gas and managed to pull off being charming and bright, despite the obvious glitch in the plan. I know that he talked about his mom and told stories of his childhood in Boston. I know that my mom loved that.

My parents had this really beautiful way of keeping even their first moments together present - relevant. When they shared stories of their early days together, it was as if they were talking about yesterday. A yesterday that I was a part of. They were always so inclusive of us when they shared. I could almost feel the wet air and could faintly hear my brothers giving my dad a hard time about forgetting to fill the tank. We weren't there, of course, but the meeting of my parents was the conception of our family. The Paddens. As my dad would say, "You are us and we are you." I keep reminding myself of that. When my heart aches, like now, and I can't seem to get it together, it comforts me to know that he is here - in me. The pain is in realizing that a part of me is there - with him. I feel less whole - like I'm running on empty. As Mom and Dad showed us though, great beauty can come from stalling out and having to find a new plan. A new path. I just thank God that we are pathfinders.

Red Carpet

Some photos of the girl to share. She likes to sit in her little seat. The shirt she is wearing is from our beloved Aunt Emily. Mia is giving her a shout out in the picture.

The next photo is Mia waving to her many many fans in her new swimsuit. She thanks you all for your support and love during the trying times of finding appropriate wear for her upcoming water classes. While you may be overpriced, Polo, you certainly make a darling suit. I can justify the price because it's important to feel good at the pool. No one likes to be half naked AND in a horrible swimsuit.

Finally, her first bites, which she clearly does not love. She seems disinterested in the whole real food craze. It was fun for like the first minute or two. I think we're both over it.

My Mia

I know Mia won't remember the moment this photo was taken. She won't remember all the times I just stare at her, unable to comprehend my life without her and unable to remember it very clearly before her. While these moments may not be hers to cherish, they are mine. She just makes so much sense to me. All of those loose puzzle pieces in my life formed a picture when she arrived - a beautiful picture.

Nuts and Bolts of Life

Sixty dollars and five minutes later - voila - the crib is fixed. I wish someone would have told me that all you needed to do was put on a southern accent and give the screw "some flexing." That's what the man/boy who came to fix it today said. I told him the piece in question wasn't aligning properly with the headboard. He said, "Didya flex it?" Ummm....man/boy....I have no idea what you are talking about. I felt quite dumb when he showed me. The technical term of "flexing" just means bending the piece until it looks like it's going to break. You learn something new everyday.

The man/boy had a helper who was quiet and watched a lot. He told me the crib was beautiful. He admired it and ran his finger over the wood. He went on to tell me he slept right in bed with his "mama." I assured him that she was a loving mother to let a loud little baby share her bed. I went on to talk about the different thoughts about co-sleeping. I told him that while I think the idea is great, in theory, it's just not realistic today. I told him that I love to think about families in the "olden days" who would huddle together to keep warm and safe. I think that mentality is really beautiful. Maybe we value independence too much as Americans. We want our infants to roll over, sit up, crawl, walk, and speak so early. We want them to sleep alone and like it. Why don't we just send them out with a credit card and tell them to get jobs? I said all of this...outloud....to man/boy's helper. He just stared at me and then said he shared a bed because he grew up poor.

Eye opener. Hello, idiot? It's me calling...again. I am slowly realizing in life that some decisions are just made for you. When you don't have a ton of money, you don't have the luxury of pondering differnt parenting techniques. I appreciate that. We all spend so much precious time doing what's "right". Just do what you can do and make the best of it. Thanks man/boy helper. I learned a lot today. I can now "flex" a screw and I also discovered that life is what it is. You can only control so much of it.

My little love bug is waking up. She's sick today and if it isn't the most heartbreaking thing I don't know what is. Her daddy has already called to check on her. Ahhh.

Crib Notes

We took Mia's crib apart tonight to lower the matress. There must be an easier way to lower the damn thing. Parts, screws, bolts, etc. are spread over the floor so Mia graciously has opted to sleep in her swing tonight. I have to call the store where I bought the crib tomorrow to see if they can send someone out to help us. Note to self: don't disassemble a crib an hour before bedtime. Not smart. I think V would like to have me sleep in a swing tonight - outside. I was HORRIBLE while we were unscrewing and analyzing our project. More swear words poured out of my mouth than metal parts from the crib - which is a lot. I sometimes suffer from misdirected anger. To my V - a thousand apologies. I never ever want to take the crib apart again, but if I have to, you are the only one I want to do it with.

Get out my way, pimpin' ....The shooter in the CNN complex shouted this to another man before he fired. I just had to put it in my blog because it's hilarious. Not the shooting, of course. I love when reporters have to use slang. Look at that quote. Priceless. You know that editor was dying to slip in the "of" at least.

I want to write a quick thank you to Alex at Banana Republic. I love you. When I asked you to point me in the direction of your capri pants, you got on your walkie talkie to ask the mystery helper in the back room. Your walkie talkie cackled back that only "contour" pants were left. You, my sweet sweet Alex, answered back, "contour won't work for this customer." "Contour?" I asked. "Curvy," you replied "won't work for you." I entered feeling like a dumpa schlump dinka and left feeling quite happy that you, my Alex, do not think I'm curvy. So, to you Alex, I'll be back.

Morning Thoughts

I'm up before Mia (rare) and I'm using this opportunity to get some of my own stuff done. I just poked my head into her room and she is in her new usual position - on her stomach with her little hands underneath her face and nose. I guess she creates a little pocket to breathe into with her fingers. Scares the bejesus out of me but she seems completely satisfied. The past few nights I've gone in there to flip her over several times. She doesn't wake up but immediatly turns back onto her stomach. I just need to take a deep breath and realize that she will turn if she needs to.

I logged onto to CNN this morning and one of the headlines was, "Hilary Duff feels pressure to be thin." Ummm....ya think? I didn't even read the article because it just seemed so moronic to even go to print with that. Celebrities are all passing out left and right from "dehydration" and "exhaustion". They are all "lactose intolerant" and "allergic to wheat". It's called anorexic where we live. Yes, I'm sure Hilary Duff does feel pressure to be thin. Anyone over 80 lbs feels pressure to be thin in Hollywood. Worthy of a headline? Probably not.

On to why I wanted to blog today...I went to yoga last night (hello old friend) and ran into a friend of a friend. Lovely woman. We sat next to each other before class and she asked me how I liked being home with Mia. I was telling her how much I enjoyed it when, out of nowhere, it just slipped out. I blurted out that Dad died. I just felt silly saying how much fun Mia and I were having when in reality this big event in my life was looming over me. I didn't start to cry. I didn't make a scene, but I felt very exposed anyway. She was sweet and we chatted for just a few more minutes. After class, as we were walking to change, we began talking about our history with yoga. Somehow, I felt it appropriate to blurt out that V and I struggled to get pregnant and that I actually eventually miscarried our first pregnancy. I don't know what it is about her but whenever I see her, I manage to turn into a TOTAL social pariah - saying the lamest things. The same thing happened the last time I saw her. All of my comments were relevant but I still can't shake the feeling that I shared WAY way way too much. I'm not too much of a sharer so it's hard for me to feel comfortable when I do. DEATH. INFERTILITY. MISCARRIAGE. All such taboo social subjects. I manage to bring them all up in a matter of an hour yoga class. Nice work.

Family Ties

So the weekend is over. Neil, Pam, the girls and Emily came into town to reconnect. We had a reunion of sorts to regroup. We chose a headstone for Dad. It's beautiful: classic, understated, and strong. Sound like anyone you know?

The weekend was bittersweet. On one hand, a total joy to be together yet on the other hand, a feeling of raw pain with the realization that we were minus one. I would look across the table or across the room at times and smile at the recipient of my gaze. There was always a solemn recognition, a quiet understanding, between both of us about the reason for the get together. That's what makes family so unique and strong; nothing needs to be said for everyone to be on the same page.