A Wonderful Way

... to start our holiday.

At approximately 8:50 this morning I told Arabella I was headed upstairs to take a shower and began to walk up, and she shrieked "I want a big hug!" This was followed by a huge thud, and a moment of silence, then a scream. I ran back to the diningroom, where Arabella was standing and crying that she had hit her chin. It looked ok, so I tilted her head up to give her a kiss, and that's when I saw it. She had split her chin open, a little over an inch long, and very deep. Deep, as in, I was seeing layers of skin, fatty tissue and darker muscle underneath. And of course lots of blood. I knew in that instant we were looking at several stitches. I stayed as calm as I could, got her a paper towel, told her to hold it to her chin, then ran off to get socks and shoes for us both. Sabine was still in her sleep sack, which I whipped off and popped her in the car seat in a t-shirt and diaper (no socks, no pants, thank goodness for the bunting) I wore my pajamas, which fortunately don't look too pajama-like. I called the doctor to let them know, and we drove off to the urgent care place where Michael had his hand stitched up nearly 5 years ago after stabbing himself with a box cutter.

In case you are wondering why I didn't take her to the emergency room, we are exactly halfway between the hospital and the urgent care center, and when we visited the emergency room in May for Arabella's head injury, it took well over two hours, and cost $200 for them to put a band-aid on it. I didn't want to know what we would end up paying for actual stitches.

Sabine screamed the whole way to the urgent care, then calmed down once we got there. A sign of how much Arabella was hurting was that she barely spoke the entire drive. Arabella was pretty calm until the doctor took out the probe to see how deep it was. The doctor ended up putting her in a velcro baby straight jacket to keep her still, with the nurse holding her head and me reminding her to close her eyes. there was much screaming, I had a hideously good view of the action, and it took 6 stitches to close it up.

For reference, it is exactly in the same spot that my mom has a scar from busting her chin open as a child. 6 stitches, looking like a little goatee. The Man said at least we already got he Christmas pictures taken.

Hotel icky and cabin fever

Back in March I visited New York City, and stayed at a very nice hotel. Midway through my 5 day visit I found a pair of unfamiliar underwear in my (unshared) bathroom. The owners of the mystery underwear were not discovered, but I assume the maid accidentally removed a pair of underwear from one room (with the towels perhaps) and tossed them into her best guess for the origin. She just guessed wrong. For the record, I don't own any underwear with Calvin Klein on the waistband.

I thought of the mystery underwear when I saw this video today, about the nastiest thing in your hotel room. Urg. If you travel, you should see it, but be warned it made me a bit queasy, and those of you who know me know that is no small feat.

School Day

Today I participated at Arabella's preschool. Now remember that it snowed all weekend, and my quick informal poll showed we were not the only family to stay cooped up the past 3 days. So it is perhaps unsurprising that 14 children finally freed from home to play with their pals can be really wild, really noisy, and highly chaotic. Add to that glitter glue, paint, and present wrapping (ceramic handprints with child painted wrapping paper) and, oh yes! gingerbread cookie making (really making, like mixing and rolling dough, cutting and baking cookies). And the unspoken but clear anticipation of Santa and gift-ness. Arabella rode the tricycle really well, steering carefully except for starting out by running over one of her classmates who didn't get out of her way quickly enough.

And I had to help the teacher remember the words to the Dreidle Song. I think I'm the closest thing to a Jew in our school.

P.S. to the MIL & FIL
I found Arabella's stocking, but not the one you were asking about, and my stocking, made when I was a baby, but not the Man's, nor the handmade one for A. And, because my mind is going, I had to order more yarn for Christmas gifts, but its coming to your house. Surprise! This morning I made it nearly all the way to school before realizing I was without purse, wallet, phone, or so much as a lip gloss.

Snow Ice Snow

Yesterday we had about 3 inches of snow, which last night turned into rain and ice, and overnight returned to snow, and dropped about another 4 or more inches, so now we have a veritable layer cake of snow and ice. Church cancelled nursery and preschool, I don't know if there will be services, but we're not driving clear across town in this stuff.

Sabine has been a miniature snot producer, but is sleeping better, thanks in part to the saline solution and snot extraction regimine. Arabella seems improved, but persists in running around the house in a lightweight t-shirt and skirt, no pants, no socks, no slippers, no sleeves. I convinced her she needed sleeves and she dragged out the eye-wateringly fuschia long sleeved leotard.

Arabella can't seem to decide if she wants to be a big girl or a baby, and we have had a few ugly incidents (including one at Target Friday which ended in my picking her up, dumping her in the cart, and wheeling her out to the car, shrieking her head off). Mostly she is sweeter than ever, playful and helpful, but at times I could just scream.

My Christmas knitting is coming along nicely, but I doubt I will do as much as I had hoped to do. As soon as we get back from our Christmas travels, I will be working in the studio as much as I can, regardless of weather, to get done for the show in New Orleans. And in a bit of great / awful news, the State Museum wants me to do some demo's, with a case of my sculptures nearby, and a range of work for sale in the gift shop. That is the great part. The awful part is that they wanted me to do this in January (not possible) and penciled me in for March (not really any better) and I'm hoping for April or May. In late April the Radical Lace and Subversive Knitting exhibit opens, and I'm hoping to have some production work which combines knitting with ceramics by then. This is a great opportunity, its just such an inconvenient time.

I'm raveling, reveling, unraveling ...

I got my invite to Ravelry, an online international community for knitters and crocheters. And was immediately invited to join potters who knit, and found ... my friend MJ, who lives oh about 3 miles from here (about 3 blocks from our old house). Small world. I am loving the site, where I can put my patterns in and use it as a database for my stash of yarn and projects, and a forum for questions, and a research tool for patterns and yarns. Cool.

Santa

Every year I take Arabella downtown to see Santa at Celebration Crossing at the Indiana State Museum. Our Xmas picture has been there, usually her hanging out near the trees. This year, having Sabine, I thought I would have a family portrait taken and use that for Xmas cards, but the cost was prohibitive. So I decided to fall back on the picture of the cute tyke(s). I waited until both girls were over their colds, dressed them in cute clothes, took them downtown and as I am removing them from the van and trundling into the museum I realize ... of course ... I left the camera at home.

The Man reminded me that our phones have cameras, and showed me how to use it, but the pictures was unsuccessful. Sabine was crying, unhappy at being propped up when all she wanted was to sleep.

Maybe we will have a Xmas card this year ...

BTW, Melissa, I must have your old address because the card I sent came back, email or call me please.

Better with Butter, and the train to nowhere

Arabella, as previously reported, ate a half a stick of butter on Sunday.

On Tuesday Arabella snuck the baggie of double stuffed Oreos out of the diaper bag (my dad bought them while he was here, and I took the last few to ballet class, thinking I could finish them off while she was in class, but I don't like Oreos as much as I thought), took them up to her room and ate them in secret. She would have gotten away with it if not for the black crumbs that kept appearing every time she went upstairs.

On Wednesday, during Quiet Time, when she should have been in her room, I caught her in the kitchen, standing on a chair, removing a bag of marshmallows (used for yams and cocoa) from the cabinet and stowing it in her dora backpack.

On Thursday I found a completely empty cake frosting container in Arabella's room, which had previously been in the refrigerator, holding the remnants of the orange-colored vanilla frosting from her birthday cake.

My plan is to purge all sugary snacks from the house this weekend, including what is left of her Hallowe'en candy. Any other ideas?


The Polar Bear Express


They can't call it the Polar Express, that would be copyright infringement. Yesterday A's preschool class visited the Fishers Train Museum for a story and train ride. This is a real train, not a park train (like we rode in San Antonio's Brackenridge Park), nor a toy train (like they have at the Indiana State Museum). This is a Real, Big Train. So a bunch of parents, with hildren, gathered and corralled the kids. We're a pretty low-key bunch, so while the kindergarten claas that arrived with only 4 teachers and 20 students was nicely lined up for the train, our 15 kids and at least 10 adults were like a herd of feral cats, going every direction fast.


After a dramatic reading with projected images, Santa and Mrs. C arrived, we took pictures, and then we filed out onto frigid, 30 degree, but sunny train platform. I hoped that we would be nice and cozy on the train, but NO!


The train was so cold I thought I might freeze into position sitting on the vinyl seats. We shivered. Mrs. Claus and I discussed the cold -- no steam to run the heaters, couldn't regulate the temperature if they did have the heat running, and how she discovered why women in the old days weren't cold because they had on so many layers off woolen underwear and corsets. No one told the kids to sit still, I figured they might as well jump around to generate some heat. Parents begged children to sit in their laps. It was colder inside than out! The train headed north, through backyards and industrial areas. Arabella asked where we were going. I told her the North Pole, or Noblesville, whichever came first. After 15 minutes we stopped in a snow covered field with big metal industrial buildings, like truck loading or construction company offices. We were told this was where Santa's elves make the toys and store them for Christmas. And after the "train-driving elf" engineer walked from the north end of the train to the south end, we retraced our path in reverse, stopping a few times to point out to the totally frozen children the unrealistic cement deer and goofy elves hiding in the underbrush along the tracks.


We returned, I was the last person off the icy train, but the biggest relief was that Sabine slept through the entire adventure, only waking two blocks from home. She was well-bundled in her fleece bunting, velour sleeper, green knitted hat, and an extra blanket draped over the canopy to close up her little car seat cave.

His hair controls the weather

My husband has hair that has ... powers. His hair is curly, thick, and there are massive quantities of it. Most people don't realize it is curly because he keeps it very short. Sometimes, either because the weather is cold or I have been too busy to cut it, it gets long, and his black co-workers begin questioning his ancestry (You're part Italian? Southern Italian? Really Southern Italian?). As a person with very straight, very fine hair, I am jealous of his hair and its complete life of its own. Cutting his hair is interesting, it felts up in clumps more like wool than hair, and I have sometimes balled it up and let the cat chase it. But when it gets cut, we seem to get snow within 48 hours. In San Diego, of course, we merely got rain and cold, but in the midwest we get cold fronts and snow.

(This is a picture of Arabella eating Daddy's fries in December 2004. She was 13 months old. He is scowling bcause Arabella was taunting him with the fries, offering them then snatching them back and gnawing on them. Arabella started her Daddy torture early in life.)

Since Sabine was born we haven't had a chance to cut his hair, but it had reached the point where it was pushing his hat off. So I cut the Man's hair on Monday (we were having our first ever family portrait) and this morning we have:

It looks a little like Narnia (we have had multiple Narnia showings at our house this week, only occassionally interrupted by the Battle of the Nutcrackers), but that is our front yard and street.

In other news, here is a better picture of Sabine, one of the few smiles that she didn't direct at her buddy, Mr. Ceiling Fan. You can see that she too has inherited Daddy's magic hair. Lots of people are amazed by the quantity of hair on such a small baby.

And Arabella has discovered the magic of braids (ballerinas have braids, y'know).

Sick again with extras

Arabella has a cold, with great ropes of snot. This weekend's catchphrase has been "Don't touch the baby, you'll get her sick." Then last night A was complaining of an upset tummy. I didn't want to mix cold meds with stomach meds, but I was concerned. This morning she was still complaining about her stomach hurting until a sleepy husband voice from under the covers muttered it might be due to her eating half a stick of butter. He found the gnawed remains behind the toilet. And I do mean gnawed -- little toothmarks and all. And yes, she ate about four Tablespoons. Not margarine or something, but BUTTER. I'm going to investigate refrigerator locks this week.

As if this isn't already fun enough, I think I am getting Arabella's cold.

And I have to fire the kilns -- the big kiln with a bisque, the small kiln with a cone 5 glaze, both need to be finished tomorrow. And I have to finish the knitted bath mitt, and the seam on the fingerless mitts for Mom so I can mail off her beret. And today we have an appointment for family portrais, our first ever.

Wow, that's some big Bean!

Today was Arabella's 4 year checkup and Sabine's 2 month checkup. Both had to have shots, 4 each. Both screamed. I had to lay on Arabella to keep her from yanking the needles out for the 4th time.

On the good side, both are well, healthy, and Sabine is 11 pounds, 14 ozs, and 22 inches long. Yes, you read that right, she is nearly 5 pounds heavier than at birth, just 2 months ago. The only recommendation was to add a multivitamin to Sabine's diet, to prevent Rickets. Sabine is growing just the same way Arabella did. It could be my imagination, but I think Sabine's eyes are bluer than they were just a month ago, and lighter than Arabella's ever were.

Dad left yesterday morning, vacating the littlest bedroom/future nursery and by the end of the day the Man and I had:
moved the twin futon into the playroom/closet
removed the manky industrial rug and vacuumed under it (piles of sand, don't ask us, we don't know why)
mopped the floor
set up the crib and put on the bedding
brought the rocker upstairs
moved the desk chair downstairs
repositioned the thermal curtain so it hangs closer to the wall
laid down the Chinese horse rug, which is thick and soft and relatively clean

We still have to attach the changing pad to the desk, put in a new electrical outlet and power strip (for monitor, white noise machine, clock, lamp, etc), and hang a shelf for diaper changing stuff, but overall the room is about ready. Dad removed the huge wardrobe while he was here, and without the furniture we realized the room is really not as tiny as it seemed. It will be a comfortable nursery. The plan is to move Sabine into her new room over the next week, starting with daytime naps and working up to being in there all night.

Pictures for Thanksgiving

OK, I know it's fuzzy, but this is proof that Sabine smiles. She does this alot.


This is Arabella's 4th birthday cake, the ugliest cake ever. I ran out of cream cheese frosting and had to make do with some totally random orange colored vanilla frosting. Arabella loves sprinkles, so we put alot of every kind on there. It may have looked stupid, but it tasted great -- chocolate fudge cake with cream cheese and vanilla frostings.


Arabella eating her Thanksgiving Turkey leg.

Black Friday: only a little Gray

My day after Thanksgiving tradition, as long as I can recall, or at least 20 years, is to stay home, eat leftovers, and watch movies or read books. I DO NOT go shopping on the three days following the great turkey feast. The only year I can recall breaking this tradition is the year I had to work at Sears in Gretna (New Orleans) on Black Friday, to make sure all the Christmas displays were ready to go before the store opened.

But this year something happened. On Thanksgiving Day the ads arrived at our house (disguised as a newspaper, they sure are sneaky that way), and I looked at them. And I noticed that the fabric store that I had been meaning to visit all week had everything on super-duper sale. So my trip to buy $2 worth of thread turned into something ... more.

I packed up Arabella, leaving poor baby Sabine with my father (aka "Grumpy," who is incapable of changing a diaper, and has determined that the way to get out of baby duty is to claim that his allergies are in fact the onset of the plague, and he mustn't hold Sabine for fear of transmitting germs), and waking the Man just to warn him that our youngest and tenderest was in the hands of a Republican, and split.

I got a sewing box (the fabric basket kind, which I have lusted after for many years), a plastic box with a carrying handle for Arabella, 2 skeins Merino wool yarn for hats (for the Man and others) and more cotton yarn for washcloths, and the requisite pink thread, for patching the rip in Arabella's brand new pink tutu, torn when she wore it to ballet and got into a tug-of-war over it with another little ballerina. The total was under $30. The store was busy, but not packed, and the manager said the customers were happy, not crabby. Arabella was helpful, and stayed close and restrained, instead of running screaming through the store.

We returned to find all was well, Sabine had slept the whole time I was gone, and the menfolk were still functional. I took over the house and the Man and my dad went to Home Depot. Nothing like breaking with tradition.

Pacifier Weaning

Jen, you asked about weaning Arabella from the pacifier, and it was really rough and easy at the same time. What did we do?

We took it away.

What I did was prepared her for the idea , gave her a deadline, and on a predetermined day I took the pacifier before she could get out of bed. I hid all the spare dee-dee's, and told Arabella she could have them at naptime and bedtime, but she had to give it to me before getting out of bed. If she foudn one I took it away. For about 4 days she would ask for it, and I would say no, and not talk about it any longer. We kept our days busy for about a week , to keep her mind off of it. After about a week I let her leave it in bed, but had to revert when she began playing with it ("Cow-cow has the dee-dee, oh, I'm just holding it in my mouth for him ..."). Eventually she was good for leaving it in her bed, but a year later I took it away for good, saying we had to give them to the new baby. I rounded them up and threw them away. Of course for being big enough to give them up, I gave her a gift, and that distracted her for about 2 days, at which point she tried to give the toy back in exchange for her dee-dee's, but I told her it was too late.

I really wish we had done it much earlier, but 2 1/2 was when I realized a few thngs. A friend said her children had all been really hard to wean from pacifier / thumb-sucking, and that one child in particular had used a pacifier until nearly 7. I finally realized the paicifier addicted child was also the one child of hers with what I would term a moderate to mild speech impediment. When I realized this was when I really got focused on what I termed the Pacifier Abatement Program.

I hate giving Sabine a pacifier, knowing that if she loses it while sleeping it will wake her up, and that I really don't want her addicted. On the other hand, I realize she wants to suckle to fall asleep, but not neccessarily nurse, so this solves many of the fussing at the breast problems, since she isn't getting overfull and uncomfortable when all she wants is comfort and a sleeping crutch. It also helps keep her occupied when she is hungry but we are not in a position to nurse (in line at Wal-Mart for example).

So maybe its not the milk

I don't think Sabine is allergic to dairy -- yesterday I ate a small cheese pizza with no problem, but today had fussing during nursing after I ate ... a slice of chocolate cake.

Yesterday was Arabella's birthday party. Five 4-5 year old girls, and two mothers (including myself) and one grandfather who was mostly useful in sometimes looking after the Bean. It was a princess dress-up party, and the girls spent most of the time princessing their way around the house. I made the ugliest cake ever, but it was tasty, and between that and mini pizzas the girls were fed and ready for more play time. Arabella got dress-up toys, some great books (of course, books are always great) and other great gifts. From mommy and daddy, a My Little Pony that you "color" on with warmth and cold (temp sensitive thing, how odd). I had a hard time deciding on a toy gift, between something I would have loved as a girl (the realistic mare and foal toy, with tack and grooming set) or the pink and blue color change fakey looking pony, and realized that its not about what I would like, but what she would like.

Up until yesterday Arabella was being much better about her toys, and being pretty good about putting her clothes and toys away once in awhile, but that went down the tubes once the birthday party ended, and we have had temper tantrums galore in the past 30 hours. It could be the let-down after the anticipation of birthday and party. This evenings tantrum centered around the personalities of her new fairy dolls (about 3 inches high, selected today and paid for with the birthday money sent by her great grand mother and great aunt), and resulted in being sent to her room for a late nap.

Dad is visiting from Louisiana, and has been more mellow than usual. Maybe its too cold for him to really focus on getting on my nerves. We got all the stuff for Thanksgiving, and since he brought pecans off his trees, I must attempt my first ever pecan pie. So we'll have lots of pie.

The menu is:
13-pound Turkey, unstuffed
Cornbread Dressing, with bacon and cranberries, Mom's recipe
Gravy, Mom's easy recipe
Sauteed Haricot Vert (Green Beans, y'know)
Candies Yams
Jellied Cranberries, straight out of the can
Pumpkin Pie
Pecan Pie
maybe some rolls ... if we feel like it.

For only 3 adults and one newly minted 4 year old, this should be more than enough food. I'm even tempted to attempt a Caramel Pecan Pumpkin Pie recipe I saw.

Back online

Yesterday I took the girls on a safari to the wilds of Fishers (suburb of Indy) to the Fry's store and got a new monitor. So we are back online regularly, and we're going to see if we can fix the old monitor. The plan is to set up the old computer for Arabella, as she is getting old enough to use a computer and I am unwilling to sacrifice my computer to her adventures.

On Saturday, after 6 days with NO DAIRY in my diet, I put some cheddar cheese on my chili. I was rewarded for this transgression with the Night Of No Sleep. Sabine screamed, and would only sleep for about 1o minutes. When I reached the point of thinking that smothering sounded like an option, the Man stepped in and walked Sabine around for a screaming hour or so, until he could take no more. At about 2:30 I nursed her, tucked her into my armpit, and we slept fitfully until about 6. Yesterday was a crabby day, and last night was a little better, with 2 long stretches of sleep. Mom suggested it was the chili that upset Sabine, but I have eaten much spicier food with no reaction (I don't make spicy chili, its very mild). It's really hard to eat without any dairy -- no pizza, cheeseburgers, baked potatoes with butter and sour cream, grilled cheese, casseroles, etc. Our diet is currently based on chinese, barbecue, and jambalaya. I don't know how much more chinese food the Man can eat before he rebels.

Troubles in babyland

Things are okay here, but we have had some difficulties.

Along with all the joys of births in the family, Sabine and my step-sisters baby boy, Grady, we have also had bad news. Last month we found out that my cousin Michael C. has a "mass" (doc-talk for cancer) on his liver and perhaps also on his pancreas. He is 40, happily married to his high school sweetheart, and they have 3 daughters, the youngest one is just 5. The prognosis is not good, but we are all very hopeful, after all, he is otherwise a young and healthy man. This week we also found out my step-father's younger brother, Sammy, has brain cancer. His doctor gives him 6 weeks. He is getting a second opinion. There are no words to describe my sadness and horror at this point.

Here is Sabine with her eyes open, and Arabella demonstrating their resemblance.

About 2 weeks ago Sabine stopped sleeping all the time and decided being awake more than asleep sounded like fun. So I am getting nothing done, including sleeping. Fortunately her night schedule has stayed steady so far, in her bassinet at 11:30 after nearly 2 hours of feeding, and then sleeping to 3ish, then back asleep about an hour later until 5 or 6 in the morning. She seems happier with me off both all dairy and chocolate. Dang. I can use non-dairy creamer and soy milk instead of milk, but I don't know any substitutes for chocolate.

Arabella seems to be adapting to life with a baby, but she has been crabby, especially at school. Her teacher and the other parents have been so accustomed to Arabella being a happy, cheerful child that they have really been shocked by her moodiness. At home she has actually been easier to deal with, but the mood is spilling into the rest of her life.

And then the monitor decided to start acting up, some days it doesn't work, or if it does it only works for a split second, and then its gone, blank. I'm taking advantage of today's working monitor time to post and check email, but don't be surprised if I don't respond to emails right away. If ever.

On Halloween we had a dramatic crisis, where after weeks of telling me she wanted to be a fairy princess, and me preparing for that, she announced she would wear neither her fairy wings nor her princess crown. I flat-out refuse to send a costume-less child out trick or treating, it's low-class and stupid. 11th hour crisis was averted by my pulling out a second pair of wings (I had bought when I was worried I might not find her fairy wings, these being larger and black and orange, instead of pink) and Arabella went out as a butterfly. Disaster averted. Sabine wore her Bayou Bleu gown from Auntie Robin and her pumpkin hat from Fairy grand-mother Nancee. The weather was mild, so I sat with Sabine on the front porch and handed out candy and visited with our neighbor Erin.

This is a picture I took this summer when we were in Texas, visiting family, these are Michael C's younger daughters, Sarah and Elizabeth, with Arabella. Sarah and Elizabeth seemed to think Arabella was a big doll, and spent hours dressing her up.

Shopping at Home

The truck is sold, and we are glad and a little sad. Yesterday the Man made one last trip to Home Despot for plywood and drywall, from now on its rental pickups for such items.

Last year Mom gave me the Stitch'N Bitch Day Calendar, and this month there was Amelia, a pattern for a cool hat made with Manos del Uruguay yarn, just a funky hat with earflaps and braids. I wanted that hat, wanted to make it, want to wear it. But I am trying not to buy more yarn right now, and in any case I couldn't decide on a color I liked ...

So I headed upstairs, rummaged around in my yarn stash and dug out 2 skeins of Deep Purple Wool / Silk / Cashmere Blend. Its a bit nubby, with some other colors showing up every now and again. The pattern is easy, and I am already shaping the crown. I should have it done before cold weather arrives. I like shopping in my own closet.

Sabine seems to be feeling a bit better, last night she slept the whole night in her bassinet, but she did wake three times. I swaddled her very tightly, and though she made noises she slept. She is still fussy, but seems to be returning to her usual routine.

Sabine Sick

No pictures this past week, we have all been sick. And when I thought we were all recovered and went to the neighborhood Hallowe'en Festival on Saturday (I had signed up to work at Arabella's preschool booth), and despite bundling up we are all feeling sick again. The saddest is Sabine. She doesn't have a fever or any outward signs of illness, but if she has what Arabella and I feel, she has a sore throat, which would explain her symptoms. Her usual routine has been to nurse for 45 minutes, look around for 15-30 minutes, then crash out for 2-4 hours, where nothing wakes her, not even Arabella's enthusiastic play. But now she is nursing alot, or rather, nursing in frequent but brief bursts, is crabby without really waking, and then sleeps for about 20 minutes, and only sleeps longer if she is being cuddled. If I set her down asleep she wakes and screams. Not cries, screams. Things seemed to settle down a wee bit last night after I gave her a tiny dose of Tylenol.

I think this will be a relatively quiet Hallowe'en.

I just finished reading the new Terry Pratchett book, Making Money, with the return of Postmaster Moist von Lipwig, and really enjoyed it. I gave it to the Man to read next.

We have a buyer for our truck, our neighbors who are great people and with 4 kids really need a second vehicle for the husbands growing business. I'm sad to sell it, I bought the pickup truck new in Los Angeles just before starting graduate school 15 years ago, and it is almost the only thing I have left from that era of my life. About the only thing I have had longer that is mine and only mine (not a heirloom / hand-me-down) is my sewing machine that I bought on credit in 1989 in San Francisco. I think Sears had me sign away my first-born child in case of default. In reference to the truck, my neighbor said I may come by and sit in it sometimes.

Drama in Clothing Wars

I thought of a method / punishment to encourage Arabella to pick up her clothing - taking them away! I gave her an ultimatum on Thursday, that starting Friday she must have all her clothes picked up by bedtime and properly put away (either in the laundry or in the dresser). Anything left on the floor when we start bedtime stories at night would be taken away. And disposed of (which is to say, would be boxed up and packed in my closet, which is a black hole). I don't think she believed me, because last night there were a half dozen pieces of clothing left on the floor. I took them all, to much screaming pleading and sobbing. When Arabella had calmed enough to listen I told her she could earn them back by having no clothes on the floor for 6 nights (one garment each night). Stay tuned for updates. If this works on clothes I may start it for toys, too. In the meantime I have to find a way to stop her from taking the soap dispenser out of the bathroom every frigging day.

Last night was rough: Sabine screamed from 2 am to 3:30, with some brief interludes of sleep. I tried everything, she even screamed when I tried to lay her beside me, but eventually she accepted that and fell asleep until 6 am. We did go to the pediatrician on Thursday, and he said that though Sabine is sick, that nothing he saw worried him, and she will be fine in a few days. The amazing news was when Sabine was weighed: she is up to 8 pounds 14 oz, which is a gain of a full pound in 6 days! Obviously her appetite hasn't been affected.

I knitted up a little green cap to go with Sabine's green sweater, I will be making ear flaps and a Velcro closure on it. I think the black cap, while good for a newborn, is quickly going to be outgrown. The new cap has a cast on of 60 stitches, and 6 rows of moss stitch instead of garter stitch.

Sickies and Saddies

Sabine and I have apparently gotten Arabella's sore throat. Sabine of course cannot tell me this, but yesterday she was sleeping fitfully and with much whimpering, and when she was awake, she wasn't the chipper and alert baby I have come to expect in the past 3 weeks, she was crabby and unfocused. I feel the same way. She has no fever, and isn't congested, but I will be calling the pediatrician today, just to check and see if she should come in.

Arabella in the meantime has gotten over her sore throat, but is a bit upset over being denied SpongeBob for a whole day, since last night I grounded her. Yesterday I brought clean laundry into Arabella's room, and gave it to her to put away in the dresser. She did an excellent job, and we then turned to the clothes on the floor, sorting dirty (into the laundry basket) from clean (into the dresser). All the clothes were picked up and put away. Last night, when I came in for story time, there were clothes all over the floor, including at least 8 pair of underwear, some still folded and stacked together, which Arabella announced to be dirty. Since none of the clothes were taken from the laundry basket, I knew everything to have been "clean" less than 12 hours earlier. (I explain all of this because my grandmother suggested that if Arabella were responsible for putting her clothes away, she would not make a mess of them. Wrong!) We cleaned up the clothes, and that's when I discovered the 3 plastic boxes filled with water. And that the bed was all wet because Arabella "wanted to play with the water" during her Quiet Time. The only solution I have come up with is locking Arabella in her room during Quiet Time, which I would prefer not to do, as she needs to learn to control herself, not just be controlled. Any alternate suggestions are welcome, as I am running out of ideas.

Too Much

I have commented before that Arabella is rough on her toys. I would like to show Exhibit A. This is all that remains of Sleeping Beauty:



We have NO idea where the rest of Ms. Beauty may be, but we are saving her wig and legs just in case.

In the past 48 hours Arabella has:

1. Broken her red "lunch box," which she used for carrying her crayons when we go out, by standing on it.
2. Bitten the nose and cockpit off the red rubbery plastic airplane from Grandma and Pop-pop.
3. Stabbed her pink stuffie cat with the paint brush until I was sure it was going to spring yet another leak -- I have already sewn it back together twice.
4. During Quiet Time (when she is expressly instructed to remain in her room), Arabella went downstairs, fetched the egg she had gotten at her friend Esme's house (where they have chickens) and played with it until it broke, smearing egg all over the floor and her play mat. Amazingly, she didn't get it on the bed.

Today has had nothing so dramatic, but has had plenty of smaller incidents that have been driving me to consider that maybe we should have snuck Arabella into a suitcase when the in-laws left. I have told her that at this time she will not be receiving toys at either her upcoming birthday or at Xmas. Books and clothing only. I've talked to Santa, and he understands, right Santa? Or do I have to talk to Tony Soprano?

It has been suggested that the reason Arabella is so rough on her toys is that she has so many. She certainly has more than I recall having at her age, but far fewer than many of her peers. So we will be culling the toy box, tossing anything broken, storing anything she doesn't play with regularly, putting the rest in their proper places.

FO's

Last night I finished knitting the beret for Mom, this is knit in Lona's Laces superwash merino, Aslan, using the beret pattern from Welcome to the Knit Cafe.


I also got a picture of the hat I made to go with the baby kimono I made for Sabine. Hard to see details, since it is black.


Cara's easy newborn hat:
Lion Brand Cotton-Ease, 1 skein
size 8 needles

CO 52, K one row
second row, K1 *YO, K2tog. rep from * until one stitch remains, K1
work even in stockinette 30 rows, bind off.
With right sides together, sew up side seam, then either sew even across top for 'ears' or crochet in X for a watch cap. sew on roses or ribbon.

Our other new baby:
It is a 2003 Honda Odyssey, with 60K miles, fold-down rear seat, dvd, automated side doors ... and lots of space to keep the girls safely separate and still go shopping without putting groceries in the girls' laps. We are selling the pickup truck, if anyone is interested ...

Sabine sleeping

Sabine, sleeping.

This is her normal state of being. I have a struggle getting her to stay awake to feed, sometimes. Yesterday Mom and I took Sabine to the hospital to have her 48 hour infant blood test. I fed her before we left, and she was asleep before we got out the door. She slept the entire way, slept while we waited, slept while the nurse drew her blood (the only whimper was when the nurse swabbed her foot with a cold alcohol wipe), slept the whole way home, and didn't wake until I was halfway through eating my lunch.

The Man has been working on the mudroom project, which was delayed this summer while he finished graduate school. Now he has a helper:
Mixing paint. The color is Moose Mousse.

Rolling paint.

Arabella didn't help very much, but she enjoyed the bit she did. The mudroom is now painted, and the Man is working on the tile today, while my mom and I head out with the girls for sushi. Arabella has been reading Yoko and is very excited about eating sushi. We'll see how excited she is when it is served. We maybe having a lot of edamame.

Guilty Pleasures

Some years back I attended the National Ceramic Conference when it was hosted by Las Vegas (UNLV, actually), and the theme was Guilty Pleasures. Our conference tags therefore read: "NCECA 1997, Guilty Pleasures", and then the participants name and either college affiliation or town. There were over 4000 participants, chubby hippie college ceramics teachers, hot neo-hippie college co-eds, artists, collectors, writers, etc. Everyone wearing jeans and t-shirts, all ages. A very odd looking conference. On the last day, as I am loading up my plate with fried shrimp at the all-you-can-eat buffet, this man sidles up to me and asks, quietly,

"Excuse me, can I ask you a question?"

I was startled, but said, "Sure, what?"

"Well, I keep seeing all these people with tags that say 'Guilty Pleasures' on them, is it a club or somehing? How could I join?"

I looked down at my own tag, and said as brightly as I could, "Its a ceramics conference!"

I have rarely seen anyone look so disappointed.

Your Guilty Pleasures

So what are my guilty pleasures?

• Funyuns, cheap White Zinfandel, and chocolate fudge pop-tarts. I rarely eat them, because I don't want Arabella to catch the Funyun habit.
• Buffy the Vampire Slayer tv show. Thanks to Pat, I have seen every single episode. Thanks to my husband, twice. But bringing this up with other moms is very chancy.
• Holding a sleeping baby, though I know I should be putting her in her crib.
• Buying yarn (or fabric) I don't have a plan for using. I've got alot of this purposeless yarn. I could probably make a purposeless yarn sweater or two.
• Spider Solitaire and Civilization 3 computer games.

I know, my life is pretty boring, if this is as bad as my guilty pleasures get. How about you, readers? What are your Guilty Pleasures?

ps, more Sabine pics later this week.

Meet the Bean

Sabine Gabriella, born 12:03 am, Thursday, Sept 27th (yes, that's just past midnight).

7 pounds, 20 inches long.Very healthy and happy.


Thankfully and despite my fears, there were no mad dashes to the hospital nor any taxi cab deliveries. I started feeling contractions on Tuesday afternoon, and those contractions continued through Wednesday. Though the contractions began coming closer and stronger Wednesday afternoon, they never became regular, even in the final stages. At 8 pm on Wednesday we dropped off Arabella at our friend J-'s house for the night, and headed to the hospital. Until the last hour of labor, the pains were no more than what would be expected from menstrual cramps. I didn't receive any pain meds, and Sabine was delivered with 3 big pushes, crying quite strongly. Sabine looks pretty much exactly the same as Arabella did, and her weight is the same.

The next morning the Man showed up with Arabella, and she got to formally meet her baby sister. Although she looks distracted, she is THRILLED, but was trying to decide what to do with her hand while Daddy fussed with the camera.

There have been lots of snuggles, and Bella and Bean are off to a great start.

New Members of the Church

We go to the Mall

Arabella has had some behavior issues lately, and I don't want to say we've turned a corner, but ...

I have noticed that in the past week, now that the afternoon nap has become optional (replaced by the afternoon "quiet time" while mommy takes a nap), Arabella has been napping. Sometimes with me, sometimes in her bed, but often I will wake up after a 2 hour nap, realizing the house is really quiet, and peek in her room, and there she is snoring. Now that she doesn't HAVE to, it has become more attractive.

And last night I was really feeling a craving to go out for dinner, mostly because I feel sure that my going out will be seriously curtailed (from almost nothing to nothing nothing) very soon, so I suggested Chinese food. The only problem with Chinese food in Indy is that the only really decent Chinese restaurant in town in PF Changs (how sad is that) and their take out is inedible. So you have to eat in. And after our last experience taking Arabella out to a restaurant, we were of course apprehensive. So we talked about it the whole way, talked up the downtown aspect (she loves downtown, I don't know why, maybe because it is the only thing not uniformly flat and plain in Indy), talked about our expectations.

And she was a perfect "lady" the whole evening (when I said she was being a very big girl, she would respond "I'm a LADY"). She stayed in her seat except for 2 requested trips to the restroom (also amazing since this is the site of her first experience with an auto-flush toilet. She wouldn't pee anywhere but at home for several months after that). She didn't scream or poke the people sitting around us. Even though we forgot to bring crayons and paper, she amused herself with the contents of her purse -- take out cutlery and napkins. She ate her rice and potsticker, only complaining that the Kung Pao Chicken was too spicy, but eating all the peanuts anyway.

After dinner we went for our usual post-meal turn around the mall. We don't usually buy anything, but its good for us to walk instead of getting in the car right after eating. Since the mall closed its last bookstore (there is a very nice one one block away, but we don't do that unless we really are getting done early or don't mind running the homeless gauntlet), we often don't even step in the stores, but we do get accosted by salesladies at kiosks wanting to sell me $40 hand lotion and hair straighteners (as if). But last night we stepped into Gap Kids. Lai-Nga had sent me a gift card some time back, which I have yet to use, and I wanted to see if there was anything Bella or the Bean might need. If you haven't seen them, the mannequins at Gap Kids are like soft-bodied bendy dolls in twill -- with no heads. Arabella stopped dead the moment she saw them, edged up and poked one in the chest a couple of times, then stepped back into daddy's leg and stared. I had already woven my way through the racks to the far side of the store, and to make her way to me she had to skirt several more kid sized decapitated mannequins, and each time she would watch them steadily, beadily, as she gave them as wide a berth as the store allowed. She poked a few more after she reached me, and as we got to the back of the store she visibly relaxed -- all the mannequins are up front. She didn't say a word about the mannequins (which is unusual in itself for Arabella) but the Man and I laughed a long time, wondering what she must think, and what the marketers at Gap Kids would think if they knew that my fearless child is more scared of their mannequins than all the "spooky" halloween props at Target.

Hospital Art and Transvestite Potters

Today on the way home from the latest OB's appointment, I heard a short interview on NPR, Fresh Air, on whether hospitals should have art. Grayson Perry, my favorite transvestite potter (sorry, Leopold, but you haven't been wearing your caftans for a few years now) came on the air to argue against hospital art, saying if there were to be art in hospitals, he would prefer a lovely Francis Bacon to a banal boat scene or "nice" watercolor. His words were that art should remind us of what makes us human.

I think I have to agree, though I'm not sure I want a Francis Bacon's screaming pope with side of beef in the delivery room, that I would rather have a Klimt to look at than a pretty cottage lit from within in the dusky twilight (you know who I mean).

Pregnancy

I went into the OB's a bit apprehensive today, I have been having cramping sensations, and was SURE that I would be delivering any minute. The doctor said I am beginning to efface, but that delivery most likely will still be a quite few days off (no need to panic, Mom). She also estimates the baby's weight to be about 6 1/2 pounds, though she reminds me that this is an inexact science. Otherwise all my and the baby's vital signs remain good, even if I feel painful and loose.

My kid is a spazz

I may have mentioned this before, but Arabella is a spazz. She crushes, mows down, scares off and runs into everything in sight. She throws herself to the floor with a verve that would make an Aikido sensei proud. Today she got a bruise on her cheek at school, the teacher warned me when I came to get her. She was running and ran right into the jungle gym. She is Enthusiastic. Were she my age she would have been called a bull in a china shop.

Pregnancy

I can't see my feet most of the time, and when I do see them, I am horrified by the puffiness. I can't even force my feet into my Carolina boots, which for me are the equivalent of sneakers. I walk like John Wayne after a long week in the saddle, I can't walk to the end of the driveway without puffing, and I have to go to the bathroom every ten minutes. I have 2 weeks and two days left on the countdown. Please don't be "late", Bean, momma can't take much more of this.

Pre-Mama Amnesia

Today was the last day of teaching my 3 week workshop (making a ceramic figure / bust) and it took until 1:30 to wrap up things from the Saturday workshop and the 3 week class. I planned to stop off in Broad Ripple Village to pick up some Dick's famous BBQ Brisket to bring home for lunch. I thought I would call the Man (at home with Arabella) to let him know I was running late but on my way, and realized my phone was dead. Oh well. I pulled up in front of Dick's, and parked behind a Hummer (it is the Village) and laboriously dragged myself out of the car in traffic, put a quarter in the meter (20 minutes should suffice, don't you think?) and turned around to Dick's.

To find it closed. Like with the windows papered over. With a sign saying coming soon, Crazy Squirrel Wings Saloon (ok, maybe not, but something like that). No more Dick's famous Texas style BBQ! Well, there is the Hogshead BBQ a few blocks away, let's just drive over. I reach into my bag and ... can't find my keys. Not in the outer pouch. Did I drop them behind the Hummer? No ... not in the inside pouch ... they are ...

hanging from the ignition. Really. So I walk into Scholar's Inn (great bread, great sandwiches) and ask to use their phone, call home, and give the Man directions over the screaming of Arabella. It takes about 30 minutes to drive from our house to the Village, plus time to cram a preschooler into the car. So I walk back out and sit on the car. Which is when I realize ...

it's still running. This means I got out of my car, with the radio still going, without my keys, and carefully locked the door (yes, I checked all the doors hoping I had left one unlocked). And walked off.

If this is pregnancy amnesia, lets hope the baby arrives soon, I might not be so lucky next time.

The good part of this is that when the Man appeared, with Arabella in tow, we went to Hogshead for BBQ. We had an excelelnt lunch, Arabella had fun, we didn't torture too many diners, and we got a peach cobbler to go for dessert. We don't often make the trek to Broad Ripple for meals, so this was fun. Kinda.

With my black eyes

Arabella tells us that she can find things because "with my black eyes, I can see really good."

Tuesday was Arabella's first day back at Ballet class, and she had a wonderful time. Although her usual pal was in a quieter mood, Arabella made new friends, and after class she and her old chum had a good time running around while her mom and I visited. I had just finished sewing the tiny pink roses on the black cotton sweater, and it looks so lovely.

Also on Tuesday was my first one-on-one parenting class with Arabella's teacher. We are trading kiln firing and studio time for the classes, which suits us both just fine. We had an 90 minute meeting, and we talked about many of the issues I have with Arabella. Most of these issues, like the testing me and not listening, are simply age issues, and though hard are fairly straight forward. Other issues, like changing her mind 4 times a second ("I want waffles. yes, waffles. No, I want bacon. Yes, bacon, I want baconbaconbacon." and once the bacon is done it "NOOOOOO! I want a waffle!" and tantrum ensues) is really just Arabella's personality. Woop.

On the good side, she said that Arabella is a very aware child: "if I asked her at any point what is going on in the classroom, even on the other side of the room, she would be able to tell me." When I talked to my grandmother about this she said, "well, of course, she watches what else is going on, she's afraid she might miss out on something fun."

But we discussed some concrete ways to deal with Arabella's 3yo issues, and that was good. She recommends the book "Your Three-Year-Old: Friend or Enemy, " one of a series for several young ages (two's, three's, four's, five's).

Yesterday was mostly a good day. At quiet time, Arabella played for an hour and then fell asleep all by herself. She had about a one hour nap, and still woke up crabby, but I figured she needed it.

Developments

Yesterdays nap went better, Arabella let me have a long nap while she played, and the house was not burned to the ground while I slept. And bedtime was easy and early. I know it won't always be this way, but any naptime that doesn't have me yelling and threatening is good.

And, Frank, Arabella does say she needs a job. Yesterday Arabella helped out by clearing the mountain of stuffed animals off her bed and even removing the sheets so I could put clean sheets on. Very impressive. I may decide to just train her for working here instead of shipping her to a distant Nike factory. Right now she is trying to swiffer the bedroom floors with a cloth-less (and so useless) swiffer. At preschool on Tuesday she was very industriously vacuuming with a toy vacuum and I told another mother, I don't know where she gets that, its not as if she sees me use one very often.

Pregnancy and the Internet

I browse the internet these days, but the one piece of information I crave is one no website can tell me. When and how fast. When will I go into labor and how fast will it be. For some people this may seem an odd preoccupation, but with Arabella arriving after only 3 1/2 hours of contractions, this is a serious situation. My biggest fear is having an unplanned and unwanted home birth. No offense to home-birth advocates (I have several neighbors who I respect and enjoy who are big on home-birth) but I don't want to give birth at home when I can stay in a nice hospital where they bring me food and change the sheets and are always a button-call away.

My father insistence (though I know he is wrong about this) that subsequent labors are always shorter doesn't help my concern. Dad is so helpful. The Man hasn't been to the gym lately, I think because he is worried I will go into labor while he is gone, and I will have no way to reach him.

If we could have some way of predicting, I would be so much happier, but all I have managed to learn backs up what I already knew -- when babies are ready, they will make an appearance.

Changes in Preschool

I have sad news to relate. This past week, along with the joys of returning to preschool and imminent sisterhood, Arabella has outgrown her nap. The sad part of this is that I have not outgrown napping (nor has the Man, we think she must be some weird genetic throwback). So on pain of death we instituted the 90 minute "Quiet Time" yesterday. And yesterday was a bust. I got worse than no nap -- 3 interrupted naps, the longest was about 15 minutes, just long enough for me to wake up with fangs and large waving antennae.

But Arabella seems to be doing fine with it, and we last night there was no frisking about the bedroom at all hours. Today, my nap was fine, and Arabella seems to be learning the definition of "playing quietly", where yesterday she seemed to think playing her glockenspiel extra slow would be OK.

First day of school

Officially, Tuesday was the first day of school, but Arabella's school does a half-day on the first day where the parents stay, so in Arabella's mind, it didn't really count. This may be good for kids who are more clingy than Arabella, or for whom this is their first year in preschool, but A is an old hand. As we were headed home she asked, "why didn't you leave, and where is my snack?"

So today is the first day of school.

Arabella likes petting the deer fur on this piece.

The Bean is running out of room to move around, but last night I rolled over, and the movement must have woken her, because she began trying to break out with her elbow. It was painful, and eventually I rolled back to my other side to press the offending elbow into the mattress. Everything from my collarbone down hurts or is swollen, labor is going to be a relief after this.

Yesterday I was quite flattered when a woman behind me in line at the pharmacy commented she hadn't realized I was pregnant until I turned sideways. Until I turned she was quite perplexed by the conversation I was having with the pharmacist over how pregnant I am, and how close to my due date.

Sling Thing Mania

Last week I made slings for the baby -- one for me, reversible from black to a deep red and black Victorian floral, and one in denim for the Man. And I started on a pink flannel one for Arabella to tote her baby dolls around in. I have enough fabric to make 2 more -- one in a black on black cotton and one in a black and white Colombian fabric that has been floating around my home since I lived in San Francisco, more than 12 years. If you are interested in making a baby sling for yourself or someone you know, this is the site I got it from:

http://www.sleepingbaby.net/jan/Baby/tubesling.html

I'll post pics later this week.

I know some people wonder about my tendency to wear black. Alot of black. I started wearing black in high school, before goths but after punk and neo-punk. It was the eighties, and whatever color was in last month in L.A. (neon green, or red, or white, or off-white, or whatever) was a big stinky fish this month. I got tired of trying to keep up with the fashion queens at my high school (I also couldn't get my straight fine hair to have the lift that they did, I should have known then to give up). So I asked my mother, "what color doesn't go out of style, is always 'in'?" She thought a moment and said, Black. Black never goes out of style.

From that moment forward, if I bought one shirt and it was offered in black, I got black. Everything coordinates with black. I do not own navy shoes, purses, or belts. I do not buy anything that cannot be worked into a black wardrobe, no matter how pretty or flattering. As a result, my wardrobe is pretty bland and weird. 9/10ths black, the rest is sage greens, reds, white, and some purples and taupe, and gray. Blue jeans don't count as a color unless you wear a denim outfit (matching jacket with pants, etc). The few things which do not coordinate with black are almost invariably gifts.

So when I make slings, which must coordinate with many outfits, I choose black. It is hard to sew black fabric, just as it is hard to knit black yarn, 'cause you can't see WTF you are doing. But I do it anyway.

So far Arabella doesn't show any preference for black, although her favorite dress of all time is her black velveteen sheath dress for the holidays. She wears that as often as I will let her (which means as often as it is not in the basement, in the wash. She will take it out of the dirty clothes hamper). Otherwise she wears many things at once, none of which 'go' together. Today she is wearing the eye-watering flamenco leotard over pink pants, with purple floral shorts over both. Yesterday was her Tinkerbell swimsuit with an orange bikini top over, and her gauzy fairy skirt on top, but oddly tucked into denim shorts with a pink ruffle. We try to get as many pics as we can of these outfits, so we have plenty of ammo for embarrassing her in front of her prom date and fiancee.

Pregnant and counting

I saw the OB this week, everything is fine. The baby is now in the vertex (head-down) position, which lead me to say "so she's locked and loaded, is she?" This has not encouraged the Man, who is certain I am going into labor any moment, even though I am only 35 weeks, and have been telling him for weeks that although I am ready, the baby most certainly is holding firm.

Yesterday I was not feeling well, having false labor pains most of the day, and having a large dinner of pulled pork (GT South, the bbq place that we dare not return to with Arabella until she learns some restaurant manners. The ribs are acceptable but the pulled pork is their specialty) just put me over the edge. I really was uncomfortable, and went to bed early, just to lie down and read for awhile. Arabella kept coming in to cover me up and check to see if I was feeling better. She was very sweet and adorable.

So just in case we get surprised by early labor, I have started putting things together. When Arabella was born I probably had enough stuff in my hospital visit tote bag to go on a cross-country road trip, but this time I tossed a set of pj's, a pretty onesie and socks, and some sweat pants in a pile. My toothbrush and such are already in a makeup bag that is always ready for trips. I know that the hospital supplies a bunch of stuff for the first few days with baby, and sends you home with it all in a cute but totally embarrassing little backpack. I even got wild enough, while A and the Man were doing bathtime, to drag out the little bassinet I bought at a yard sale when I was pregnant last year, and put it in the bedroom, startling the Man when he came in and found furniture mysteriously appearing. Be ready, sweetie, there's more. When Arabella was born, we used a pack'n'play for the first 6 weeks, but then we had a bedroom that was 15' x 15', and now we have a much smaller room with the same amount of furniture. I don't think a pack'n'play will fit in our bedroom now.

Every time I go out in public now, people are surprised at my size. Strangers (like the old man behind me in line at the grocery store) ask worriedly if I'm due tomorrow, friends are surprised to see me still pregnant, forgetting that I'm not due until autumn. I'm frankly tired of the pain and soreness and waddling. The only person not is a hurry is the baby herself.

It's not Hollywood Blvd, but it'll do

Our local police conducted a prostitution sting in our neighborhood last week, and netted 40 arrests, both female prostitutes (one male) and male patrons. Although I had heard that prostitution was active in our area, I didn't realize it was so close, or so rampant. Mostly because the women I see on the streets targeted by the sting do not fit with any code I have for 'prostitute'. The women I see either look like me (28-40, pushing stroller or herding small children), or have too tight jeans, and filthy hair and t-shirts, and no bra as they spazz down the street. Is this the Midwestern version of a prostitute?

Contemplating this news story reminded me of my years in graduate school in Long Beach. After separating from (and eventually divorcing) my first husband, I moved into a two-bedroom two-bath apartment with friends from school, Dave & Kip, a married couple. The place looked nice, but we had many issues -- the walls were so thin that when the upstairs neighbors showered it woke me up, the local biker gang zoomed up and down the alley at all hours, and car break-ins were frequent. We wondered, right from the start, why the carport directly under our unit, always seemed to have two or three manky looking men hanging out. We thought perhaps it was because from the carport they could disappear down one of three streets were police to drive by. Then one night I came home late, to find Dave waiting up for me with a fantastic story.

Dave had heard a commotion downstairs, and gone down and found two guys fighting and brawling. He tried to shoo them away, then called the cops. The police scattered the men, then left. Dave went back down, having earlier seen someone in one of the storage closets in the carport, and noticed the hasp was broken. He pushed open the door of the storage closet, and a mans voice saying "whoa!", before the light in the closet went out. He thought he caught a glimpse of a woman, and kept an eye out. Later he saw a man and woman walking out of the carport, and down the alley. "You know how there are High-Class Ho's and Low-Class Ho's? Well this was a No-Class Ho!" He described her outfit, spandex bike shorts and ratty t-shirt, looking unbathed at best. And we realized why men were always hanging out in the carport -- they were waiting in line! It was the homeless prostitute!

Now I realize she must have moved to California from the Midwest.

Project Results: Art & Garden

The summer art project is completed, and although the batteries on the camera gave out while I was in the midst of photographing the pieces, I did manage to get images of some of the pieces. The project is one I have taught many times (and am in the midst of teaching again): Famous Painter Self-Portrait. So, take a famous painter and do a self-portrait (you, not the painter) based on the style and palette of that painter. It leads to many interesting pieces.


Self-Portrait as Kirchner

Self-Portrait as Rothko. This one confused some people, one thought I was kidding, some just didn't see how a Rothko could be translated as a self-portrait. This is pretty much a direct re-creation of Rothko's "#2". As soon as I saw the painting I saw how it could be interpreted as a face.

Self-Portrait as Modigliani.

Self-Portrait as Modersohn-Becker (not Gaugin, although there are strong similarities).

On Thursday we got home from shopping and found a surprise waiting for us.

A little background: On August 12, Arabella and I were in the garden and I found a bunch of large yellow, black and white striped caterpillars. We took the two largest and put them in Arabella's bug catcher, along with leaves of the plant we found them on (morning glory vines, I think). For a day and a half they were fine, then we found them hanging from the top of the catcher, and later that day they made pupae. I explained to Arabella that they MUST BE LEFT ALONE. But within 24 hours she had picked them off the lid of the bug catcher and was rattling them around. I put them out of reach (even high up for me) and explained that they might not be able to turn into butterflies if they were not left alone. I really doubted they would come out after their rough treatment.

But this past Thursday we got home, and as I put my keys away I noticed something odd in the bug catcher, A BUTTERFLY! We took it outside to let it dry its wings, took a few pictures, and left it alone.

I was hopeful that the other would also come out of its pupa, but so far, four days have passed and the pupa just gets blacker, but no butterfly. Arabella is a bit sad, but happy about the other, now liberated, butterfly. I don't know what kind of butterfly this is. Monarch? Viceroy? Something else?

This winter I will be thinking of how to make a butterfly cage for next summer so we can spend a little more time with the beauties before we let them go.

Gardening for children

Today another mother from Arabella's preschool told me, with a sigh, that Sam (her 6-year-old) was having difficulty transitioning from Preschool (and co-op) to the local public Kindergarten, which started just last week. "He told me on the way home today that it was different than he expected, he thought it would be more like preschool, lots of time playing and outdoors in the garden.

"And then he said, 'but, Mom, I can't even FIND the garden.' And I said, 'what garden?'

"'Mo-om, Kinder-Garden.'"

You never know until you need it

Yesterday was our rush day.

The Man was headed off to the far reaches of the Midwest (Illinois, but as far from Chicago as possible, mentally and physically, and cell-phone-ally), and after dropping him at the van-pool to get a vehicle, Arabella and I ran errands, culminating with taking the car to the shop for an oil change and an investigation into why there was a disturbing rattling coming from it when I started it up. Its only two blocks, so we walked back with her in the stroller, with car seat hanging on the back, and made side trips to the library and the mini park, where we ran into one of her non-school buddies. The weather felt heavy, like it might rain, but still humid and hot, and walking from the park the one long block was hard, made harder when I realized Arabella was holding her foot on the wheel of the stroller, slowing down my already slow slog. Like being hugely pregnant isn't impediment enough.

The car was done, but it began raining, and thundering and lightning too. We waited until the rain slowed, then slogged back to the shop ($49, oil change, air filter, welding back the little doohickey that holds the exhaust system onto the car), and came home. I felt everything was going well. We discovered the Man is in a part of the world that gets no cell phone reception, but has dsl, so he emailed to say he had arrived safe and sound. Seriously, my grandmothers farm in rural Texas gets cell phone reception, why doesn't small town Illinois?

And as I was about to shepherd Arabella up to bath & bed, the lights went out. All up and down our street. Arabella kept trying to turn on and off various lights, and then complaining that they didn't work, and I should fix them. The Man keeps about a dozen flashlights all over the house, and in the studio, and I can't find a single one, since we have them hidden from Arabella. And apparently from me too. I found my candles, and went hunting for matches, lighters, something. Since the Man stopped smoking in January, the lighters have become scarce. And the stove, though gas, has an electric starter, so I couldn't light the candles there. I didn't want to go rummaging around in the dark basement trying to see the flame in the hot water heater.

So I took Arabella (barefoot) and we sloshed over to our neighbors house. A week ago, our neighbor had a scare, with a young man the police were searching the street for hiding out in her sun room (fortunately not accessible to the inside of the house), so I was careful. She doesn't seem the kind to shoot through her door, but with the lights out and the sun room invader fresh in her memory, I didn't want to take a chance. I knocked ... very ... slowly. And tried to keep my face where she could see it in the twilight if she looked through the window. As it was, she was paniked but relieved to see us. And she had a lighter, but no candles. Just as I was lighting the candles to head back home, the lights came back on.

As I tucked Arabella in bed, she asked why the lights all went out, and I said, it was the electricity, in all the houses, that's what runs our lights. She said, "I don't want Lec-Tee-See", and I said, "but without electricity there is no tv, either," and she got a thoughtful look and decided maybe it wasn't all bad.

Middle Name Submissions

We're still accepting middle name submissions. Something to go with Sabine. Let us know.

Decisions on Naming

We have come to a decision on naming the Bean, her first name will be

Sabine

Arabella is very disappointed, as she thinks we should name the baby Arabella. When we point out this is her name, and it might be confusing, she just says 'yes, two Arabellas.' Can you hear the screaming from where you are?

We are still considering second names, but I think agreeing on a first is the most important part. Submissions for second names will be considered, so submit away.

State Fair

Yesterday we went to the Indiana State Fair. I don't recall the California State Fair being this much fun, but that might be because I only went with Dad, and he didn't want to do anything except look at the birds. And in my recollection the weather was gray and rainy.

But not for my kid! No, I had to go when Indiana is in the grips of a record setting heat wave! And I am humongously pregnant and waddling about. So I had a plan. The plan involved making sure we took the Man with us (which only gave us a two day window of a ten day event, since he works weekends), and leaving early in the day, so that we could get in maximum fun with minimum heat.

We left early Monday morning, so that we would have plenty of time to see the Pork Chop Revue, with singing and performing pigs, and took in plenty of other things along the way, like woodworkers, and quilters, and a huge and dangerous looking saw mill, with a team of oxen pulling the logs into place. We saw dairy cows and tiny two day old calves (the Man says he will never participate in "learn how to milk a cow" activities). We saw Border Collie Puppies, and Arabella rode an elephant. I missed the actual boarding of the elephant, but the Man tells me she hopped on with no help and scooted herself right up to the front. That's our girl.

We took a break for lunch (cheeseburger, hot dog, cheese fries) after the pig revue and elephant ride, but Arabella was getting crabby, and we had our meltdown on the day. It was brief, though, and after lunch we went to the water display (from the water dept, or conservation, or something) and let Arabella run around in the sprinkler until she was drenched. That helped her mood a lot. From there we rode the tractor train to the horse barns, and saw Percheron and Clydesdales. We skipped the sheep barns (since I knew they have a yarn and wool store and really didn't want to be tempted), and headed instead through the show ring (Percheron competition) and dairy barn. Then it was the Midway, and the Man and Arabella rode on several rides. Arabella, the fearless one, had a blast on all but the giant slide (the Man kept saying, are you SURE she's OK) where she didn't keep her feet together or in front of her, and came down in a big sideways starfish sprawl. She looked very unhappy, she sobbed as she came off, climbed into Daddy's arms , and said "again, daddy". She begged to go on the giant Ferris Wheel (not that giant, but Mommy don't do Ferris Wheels, pregnant or not), then asked Daddy halfway through, "why are we on this?"

Following the Midway (and burning through $20 in tickets in about 30 minutes) we ate a giant Funnel Cake covered in powdered sugar. I had seen them, but never before eaten one, and was surprised to discover that its a beignet. Except like lace. Then the breeze picked up and splatted the funnel cake into the Man's shirt, leaving powdered sugar all over him and Arabella. We shook ourselves out and headed over to the DNR building to tease the Man's coworkers and look at giant native fish, before heading home for a much deserved long nap.

I had a lady tell me I have a beautiful belly.

Seeing the glee in Arabella's face when she rode a kiddie roller coaster or saw the puppies or rode on her daddy's shoulders made my heart glow. We had a great time.

Summer plans

I really shouldn't look at yarn. I have too many things to do. I am pretty good at staying away from yarn stores at times like this (it's not too different from dieting, don't put it on my plate and I won't eat it), but the internet is totally different. "I'm just going to LOOK, I won't actually buy anything," I tell myself. I haven't bought anything, but it comes close enough ...

Things to do this month:

1. Buy a minivan. No, I'm not kidding.
2. Change our cell phones. Now that our service agreement has expired, we are shopping for a new service, something with new phones that doesn't jerk us around. Oh yeah, and that we don't lose signal walking into the house.
3. Clean out the 3rd bedroom, which has languished as the weird sewing room / guest bedroom, but come Ocotber will be a nursery. I must find a home for all the fabrics and yarn in the gargantuan wardrobe (it came with the house, I think because it was too big to remove, at least in one piece) and remove the wardrobe.
4. Find someone to come and clean the ventilation system.
5. Knit two more baby sweaters (one in black, one in purple) for the Bean, and two hats. And maybe, if I really get motivated, a baby bunting. I may deep-six the knitted bunting and sew one out of fleece. It takes me less time to sew something than to knit it, once I locate all the tools I need, but when #3 on the list is accomplished, this should be less problematic.

With the conclusion of my ceramic project, Arabella finished her summer preschool / daycare. She has been itching to get back to her "old" school (the co-operative preschool where she went all last year, and is all set to start again this fall). The good side of the summer preschool -- her alphabet and counting skills have vastly improved in a short time. The down side has been an increased amount of hitting and temper tantrums, and other unacceptable behaviors. It may only be a phase, but I think some of these rougher behaviors stem from playing with older and less disciplined children. Also, Arabella complained about her teacher yelling and about the older kids calling her "stinky" (I have never noticed her being more stinky than any other 3YO, so I'm not sure where that came from).