I officially started back to work on Monday the 13th, though I don't actually return to the office until the 27th because I have some more vacation time banked that I'm using. In these next two weeks before I return to the office full time, I'm "transitioning." I say that I'm transitioning, because isn't that always true? I remember my first day back in the office when Casey was 11 weeks old. All day long, people kept asking, "So, how are you doing?" And it took every ounce of strength not to burst into tears and sobs. I know Casey was fine- he wasn't even three months old-- as long as he got his bottle and someone held him close, he was happy. And Grandma was certainly meeting his needs.
Well, Marcie is a little older. Since we've returned to the U.S., I've been with Marcie every day for a chunk of the day. True, I drop her off at Grandma's around 4pm so I can hustle off to school Monday through Thursday. And she spends almost all day on Sundays with her Dad while I study. But for a healthy chunk of each day, I'm her primary care giver. I have loved this much more than I thought I would. I still don't want to be a full time, stay-at-home mom (though kudos to you who have the personality that makes that job enjoyable). Don't get me wrong. I think stay-at-home moms are incredible. I am so grateful I had one growing up. And our goal is still for my husband to quit his job in the next 3 years so he can be a full-time stay-at-home dad. Anyway, I digress.
I'm transitioning by having Marcie spend more time with her grandmother while I ramp up for final exams. This was a little accidental. I had planned for today to be her first full day with Grandma (full day starting around 9:30am, that is-- which means I'm still up with her for 3 1/2 hours before she's off to Grandma's house). But I did not manage my time well last weekend, got only an hour and a half of sleep Sunday night, and needed to work on a paper yesterday that was due yesterday. So off to Grandma's she went.
She loves being at Grandma's. And my mother-in-law is amazing with her-- she really has a knack for babies. Marcie loves playing at Grandma's house (and so does Casey, for that matter). So I know she is in good hands. Yesterday I barely noticed Marcie was gone. Sure, I paused every hour or so and thought about what Marcie must be doing right then. But I was under such time pressure to get the paper finished, and I was so exhausted that I just didn't think much about it. "Yesterday wasn't so bad," I thought when I drove to drop off Marcie this morning.
But today was weird. I mean, I haven't been home alone since we returned from China. It definitely helps that she's with family and well taken care of. But it was weird. It just didn't feel right. . .
So I thought I should document it. Although I'm documenting this for Marcie, really, I guess it's more of a milestone for me.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Marcie's First Birthday Party
Because we just had a huge shindig for Marcie, we opted to keep her first birthday party very small this year-- just our immediate families. I wasn't home on Jason's birthday, so the plan was to make lasagna for dinner (for the grown ups) and Dino-bite Chicken Nuggets for the boys.
The night before Marcie's birthday party, Casey went into the kitchen and located a nipple, which he put on Marcie's head like a party hat. She sat like that for a long time while he sang Happy Birthday to her. You can see Marcie and Casey both modeling the nipple-hat in these photos. Cracked us up.
The next day Marcie had Little Gym class and Casey had soccer. Then Marcie and I went grocery shopping-- on a hunt for mint chip no-sugar-added icecream (which we found). While the kids napped, I made lasagna. The thing about lasagna is that it's always so much better the second day-- when it sets really well. So I made the lasagna early in the day, hoping it would cool off and I could re-heat it for dinner. The lasagna was out of the oven around 2:30pm and we sat down to eat at 6pm. It worked pretty well.
Before everyone arrived, Jason rearranged the furniture in the area of our house which most people use as the living room-dining room combo. We have never had the money for a dining room set, so we've used that part of the area as a play area for Casey. But then when he got a cool train set from his birth family, we put that on the beat-up Ikea coffee table in the living room. He has a nice train table at his grandparents' house. The Ikea table seems okay for this purpose at our house. Anyway, once his trains were in the living room part of the space, there was no turning back. Now the area is a giant play room with scattered adult furniture throughout. . . Casey has a giant tub filled with beans and rice and macaroni that we let him climb in whenever he asks. It's a sensory tub, and those beans, etc. give Casey's body extra feedback. He is a bit of a sensory-seeking child, so this helps calm him down. He asked to climb in the tub just before Marcie's birthday party, which was to start at 5:30pm. So we let him. The photos are of Casey in his tub and of Marcie watching him play. (As a side note, one thing that makes me nervous about this tub-o-stuff is that it is small stuff that Marcie can choke on. Even though Casey knows not to throw it all over the place, some always ends up on the floor.)
After everyone arrived, we sat down to eat. I had already started feeding Marcie her baby food so that she could finger-feed herself during dinner. I gave her a sippy cup, too-- because we are supposed to give up the bottle after Wednesday (!). She mostly chewed on the cup's bottom. This is not going to be a fun transition . . . Anyway, here are some photos of our decorations for the party:
This was the kitchen table all set up for the party. There is a center piece that says 1 Birthday Girl, and a candle that says "It's fun to be one." and the table cloth matched the centerpiece.
These are the decorations we put up while the kids were napping. You'll notice a couple of Thomas balloons mixed in there-- that's because our only child-guests were Joey and Casey and we thought they'd like those balloons.
Marcie wearing-- and removing-- her birthday hat, which says "Princess."
We sang happy birthday twice-- once outside with the Lotus candle-- this candle that is a lotus flower that opens and lets off a HUGE flame (so big that they warned we might have trouble getting too many of them through customs because they are considered fireworks!). The other one was a regular candle, and we did that inside because the video camera was accidentally on pause when we did the Lotus candle. Somehow I managed not to get photos of either rendition, so I'll have to borrow those from some of our other resident photographers. In any event, the photo above is Marcie eating her cake after the second song. The photo to the right is a Lotus candle-- I borrowed it from Cassidy Tao's birthday photos. I'm sure her parents won't mind. We traveled with them to China-- Cassidy and Jason share the same day for their birthdays!
Then, we opened presents. There were presents for everyone at the party! Marcie had gotten her aunts and grandparents one-year-old portraits and put them in frames. And she got Casey and Joey a Thomas set each with Terrence and a few other characters. Because Jason's birthday was on Monday and mine is on Wednesday, people brought us gifts, too.
The night before Marcie's birthday party, Casey went into the kitchen and located a nipple, which he put on Marcie's head like a party hat. She sat like that for a long time while he sang Happy Birthday to her. You can see Marcie and Casey both modeling the nipple-hat in these photos. Cracked us up.The next day Marcie had Little Gym class and Casey had soccer. Then Marcie and I went grocery shopping-- on a hunt for mint chip no-sugar-added icecream (which we found). While the kids napped, I made lasagna. The thing about lasagna is that it's always so much better the second day-- when it sets really well. So I made the lasagna early in the day, hoping it would cool off and I could re-heat it for dinner. The lasagna was out of the oven around 2:30pm and we sat down to eat at 6pm. It worked pretty well.
Before everyone arrived, Jason rearranged the furniture in the area of our house which most people use as the living room-dining room combo. We have never had the money for a dining room set, so we've used that part of the area as a play area for Casey. But then when he got a cool train set from his birth family, we put that on the beat-up Ikea coffee table in the living room. He has a nice train table at his grandparents' house. The Ikea table seems okay for this purpose at our house. Anyway, once his trains were in the living room part of the space, there was no turning back. Now the area is a giant play room with scattered adult furniture throughout. . . Casey has a giant tub filled with beans and rice and macaroni that we let him climb in whenever he asks. It's a sensory tub, and those beans, etc. give Casey's body extra feedback. He is a bit of a sensory-seeking child, so this helps calm him down. He asked to climb in the tub just before Marcie's birthday party, which was to start at 5:30pm. So we let him. The photos are of Casey in his tub and of Marcie watching him play. (As a side note, one thing that makes me nervous about this tub-o-stuff is that it is small stuff that Marcie can choke on. Even though Casey knows not to throw it all over the place, some always ends up on the floor.)
After everyone arrived, we sat down to eat. I had already started feeding Marcie her baby food so that she could finger-feed herself during dinner. I gave her a sippy cup, too-- because we are supposed to give up the bottle after Wednesday (!). She mostly chewed on the cup's bottom. This is not going to be a fun transition . . . Anyway, here are some photos of our decorations for the party:
This was the kitchen table all set up for the party. There is a center piece that says 1 Birthday Girl, and a candle that says "It's fun to be one." and the table cloth matched the centerpiece.
These are the decorations we put up while the kids were napping. You'll notice a couple of Thomas balloons mixed in there-- that's because our only child-guests were Joey and Casey and we thought they'd like those balloons.
This was the cake we actually ate. I picked a ladybug because in the Chinese adoption world, ladybugs are a symbol of good luck. Interestingly, this is an American phenomenon-- the Chinese do not consider ladybugs particularly lucky creatures or anything. But the cake is cute, regardless. We had a chocolate cake with bavarian cream filling. It wasn't as good as the Costco cake we had for Marcie's baptism, but it met our needs. And we didn't end up with so much left over that we will be eating cake from now until Christmas.
This was Marcie's cake. Our grocery store will make a first birthday cake for free when you purchase a regular cake. This is the cake we let Marcie smash up and eat. When Casey turned one, the store thought Casey was a girl's name, and they originally decorated it pretty much identical to this one. We had them change it to blue frosting, which was extremely difficult to clean out of clothing and off the high chair tray. Fortunately, pink is much easier to clean.
Here are some other photos of the evening:
Marcie wearing-- and removing-- her birthday hat, which says "Princess."
We sang happy birthday twice-- once outside with the Lotus candle-- this candle that is a lotus flower that opens and lets off a HUGE flame (so big that they warned we might have trouble getting too many of them through customs because they are considered fireworks!). The other one was a regular candle, and we did that inside because the video camera was accidentally on pause when we did the Lotus candle. Somehow I managed not to get photos of either rendition, so I'll have to borrow those from some of our other resident photographers. In any event, the photo above is Marcie eating her cake after the second song. The photo to the right is a Lotus candle-- I borrowed it from Cassidy Tao's birthday photos. I'm sure her parents won't mind. We traveled with them to China-- Cassidy and Jason share the same day for their birthdays!
Then, we opened presents. There were presents for everyone at the party! Marcie had gotten her aunts and grandparents one-year-old portraits and put them in frames. And she got Casey and Joey a Thomas set each with Terrence and a few other characters. Because Jason's birthday was on Monday and mine is on Wednesday, people brought us gifts, too.My parents got Marcie the bounce and somethingorother Zebra. They did research to make sure Casey wouldn't break it. It's a good thing, too, because even though we got photos of Marcie riding it, Casey and Joey took turns for the rest of the evening:
After everyone left and we were trying to calm Marcie down for bed, Casey asked for a crayon. He grabbed an envelope, and then stood in front of the T.V., facing me and Jason. He kept calling out names-- "Daddy Soocoo. Here." Then he'd write on his envelope. "Mommy Soocoo. Here." Then he'd scribble again. "Joey Soocoo. Not here. At home." It took us about five minutes to figure out he was taking attendance and the "Soocoo" was his attempt at saying our last name. It was so funny.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Marcie's First Real Word
I can't believe I forgot to post this earlier! Monday was Jason's birthday, and he wowed and amazed his family with a "kid trick" while he was there. For those of you unfamiliar with the term "kid trick," a kid trick is what we parents do to show off our kiddos. For instance, my nephew Joey is a talented actor. He is two now, but from the time he was around 18 months, he would show off his talents on cue. His dad would say, "Joey, show laughing." And Joey would laugh. He could do all sorts of things: laugh, cry, happy, sad, angry-- and even coy!
Anyway, Marcie has spoken her first real word. Any guesses?
It's not "dada." And interestingly, that's not a sound she makes very often-- she makes the "mama" sound more frequently. (And incidentally, mom-mom is the word for "food" in Cantonese-- as in, "Mommy, Marcie wants to eat mom-mom.")
It's not "all done," though she does know and use the sign-language for that.
It's not "no" or "stoppit," which is kind of surprising considering how often she hears those two words from Casey.
And it's not "kisses," which Marcie also knows-- and gives on command. In two languages (the word is "chin chin" in Mandarin).
Give up? That was a clue . . .
It's UP. Yup. She says, "up!"
So cool.
Anyway, Marcie has spoken her first real word. Any guesses?
It's not "dada." And interestingly, that's not a sound she makes very often-- she makes the "mama" sound more frequently. (And incidentally, mom-mom is the word for "food" in Cantonese-- as in, "Mommy, Marcie wants to eat mom-mom.")
It's not "all done," though she does know and use the sign-language for that.
It's not "no" or "stoppit," which is kind of surprising considering how often she hears those two words from Casey.
And it's not "kisses," which Marcie also knows-- and gives on command. In two languages (the word is "chin chin" in Mandarin).
Give up? That was a clue . . .
It's UP. Yup. She says, "up!"
So cool.
Day Out With Thomas
Today we took the kids to meet Thomas the Tank Engine up in Perris, California-- just north of Hemmet. It wasn't supposed to be insanely hot, but it was-- and I had dressed the kids in long sleeves. It didn't seem to dampen Casey's spirits, though.
We parked in this gigantic dirt lot and then walked (forever!) to get to the Orange Empire Railway, where we had tickets to ride Thomas. (Actually, no one rides Thomas because he just pushes or pulls the cabooses Annie and Clarabelle, but you get the idea.)
This is Jason and Casey riding in the train. One strange thing about the way they did things was that instead of the train going in a circle or something, it just went one-way out, then the other direction back. The kids don't care, of course-- it was just interesting.
After we rode in the caboose, we stopped to eat some lunch and then went to get Casey's picture with Thomas. Like the San Diego Fair, this place had all sorts of carnival food. By the way, what the heck is the purpose of deep frying a Snickers? Anyone tried one? Is it actually tasty?
There were all sorts of things-- a play area, arts & crafts, bouncy houses, live music. . . it could have been an all-day event. But by 1pm, Casey was very cranky (because he was so tired and ready for his nap). We stopped by Sir Topham Hat's tent, but we didn't wait in line to get a photo with him.
We finally left around 2pm-- it was actually a pretty full day. Casey is already asking to see Thomas again-- and we've just told him Thomas had to go home . . .
This is the kids as we are leaving the Railway.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Poopy Blog Contest
Um. . . so this post is kinda about poop. But I promise not to get graphic (which is more than I can say for my husband, who decided to describe to me-- in detail-- the chunks in our son's poop while we were on the phone earlier, which was particularly yucky because I was eating my sandwich dinner at the time and no one likes to hear about poop even when they aren't eating).
When we were posting about Poop Watch 2006 from China, a friend of mine commented how it seems like life starts and ends with poop. Our parents obsess about it for us when we're babies . . . and then when we get old, we obsess about it ourselves. So parenthood is a precursor to aging in that respect, I guess. Anyway, I know I am not the only parent out there obsessing about my children's bowel movements (and why is it that Casey keeps pooping in the middle of the night in his sleep? I mean, he is wearing a diaper, but it's such a mess!!!). I know this because I have received e-mails from a couple of you telling me about your very own diaper blowouts. Or poop pellets. Or dog poo piles. I suppose I could interpret your willingness to share these very personal stories with me as an offense-- as if there is some significance in the fact that I'm the person with whom you discuss crap. Literally. But instead, I choose to feel flattered by it. After all, you can't talk about poop with just anyone, right?
So this brings me to the contest part of this post. Here's the Poopy Blog Contest scoop. You send me an e-mail including as few or as many of the best "poop" stories you can muster. Preferrably about a child in your life (your own, a niece or nephew, a kid you babysat, etc.). Preferrably not about yourself. Unless it's really funny, and I'll fall out of my chair because I'm laughing so hard. Anyway, your story can be about an exasperating experience, a time where poop almost led to vomit, a tale of hilarity-- it's really up to you. . . I don't know what the winner will win, but I will post my favorite poop stories on the blog. Is that enough of a reward? Is this too gross an idea to conceive? If ya'll hadn't already decided to start sending me poop stories of your volition, I wouldn't be considering this contest. But here we are. So write your story (or stories) and e-mail them to me (you can e-mail me by clicking the "E-mail me!" link here or in the bar to the right of the screen). There is no limit on the number of stories you send, but here are the rules:
1. they must be true stories
2. they can be from long ago or from recent
3. you must include your name and e-mail address in the e-mail to me
4. let me know in your "entry" if you want me to disclose your name and e-mail address on the blog
5. the deadline for submission is MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20th at 9pm PACIFIC time. This will give me time to select a winner before Thanksgiving
6. Also, I reserve the right to add and change rules as I deem appropriate.
Happy Pooply Blog Contest entry writing!
When we were posting about Poop Watch 2006 from China, a friend of mine commented how it seems like life starts and ends with poop. Our parents obsess about it for us when we're babies . . . and then when we get old, we obsess about it ourselves. So parenthood is a precursor to aging in that respect, I guess. Anyway, I know I am not the only parent out there obsessing about my children's bowel movements (and why is it that Casey keeps pooping in the middle of the night in his sleep? I mean, he is wearing a diaper, but it's such a mess!!!). I know this because I have received e-mails from a couple of you telling me about your very own diaper blowouts. Or poop pellets. Or dog poo piles. I suppose I could interpret your willingness to share these very personal stories with me as an offense-- as if there is some significance in the fact that I'm the person with whom you discuss crap. Literally. But instead, I choose to feel flattered by it. After all, you can't talk about poop with just anyone, right?
So this brings me to the contest part of this post. Here's the Poopy Blog Contest scoop. You send me an e-mail including as few or as many of the best "poop" stories you can muster. Preferrably about a child in your life (your own, a niece or nephew, a kid you babysat, etc.). Preferrably not about yourself. Unless it's really funny, and I'll fall out of my chair because I'm laughing so hard. Anyway, your story can be about an exasperating experience, a time where poop almost led to vomit, a tale of hilarity-- it's really up to you. . . I don't know what the winner will win, but I will post my favorite poop stories on the blog. Is that enough of a reward? Is this too gross an idea to conceive? If ya'll hadn't already decided to start sending me poop stories of your volition, I wouldn't be considering this contest. But here we are. So write your story (or stories) and e-mail them to me (you can e-mail me by clicking the "E-mail me!" link here or in the bar to the right of the screen). There is no limit on the number of stories you send, but here are the rules:
1. they must be true stories
2. they can be from long ago or from recent
3. you must include your name and e-mail address in the e-mail to me
4. let me know in your "entry" if you want me to disclose your name and e-mail address on the blog
5. the deadline for submission is MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20th at 9pm PACIFIC time. This will give me time to select a winner before Thanksgiving
6. Also, I reserve the right to add and change rules as I deem appropriate.
Happy Pooply Blog Contest entry writing!
Monday, November 06, 2006
Toilet Discovery
No, this is not a post about poop (don't you think I have other things to worry about in life?!?). But it's probably even grosser. . .
This morning, Casey was throwing a fit when it was time for him to get dressed. Jason had carried him into his bedroom because he'd refused to go on his own. They were sitting on the floor, kind of arguing. I put Marcie down on my bedroom floor, and went into Casey's room. I told Jason I'd help Casey get dressed-- after all, that's our usual routine. Jason wasn't finished getting dressed, so I just assumed he'd go back to our bedroom to get dressed.
He didn't. Several minutes later, I went to check on Jason and Marcie. But neither of them were in the master bedroom. "Marcie, where are you?" I began calling out. I heard a splash. Then another splash. Then I saw Marcie. . .
Playing in the toilet water! So gross.
And yes, I know how dangerous it is not to have toilet locks. They don't fit the kind of toilet seats we have, and we are not in a position to purchase new toilets. We just have to remember to close bathroom doors.
Needless to say, Marcie got a good scrub-down and a change of clothes.
This morning, Casey was throwing a fit when it was time for him to get dressed. Jason had carried him into his bedroom because he'd refused to go on his own. They were sitting on the floor, kind of arguing. I put Marcie down on my bedroom floor, and went into Casey's room. I told Jason I'd help Casey get dressed-- after all, that's our usual routine. Jason wasn't finished getting dressed, so I just assumed he'd go back to our bedroom to get dressed.
He didn't. Several minutes later, I went to check on Jason and Marcie. But neither of them were in the master bedroom. "Marcie, where are you?" I began calling out. I heard a splash. Then another splash. Then I saw Marcie. . .
Playing in the toilet water! So gross.
And yes, I know how dangerous it is not to have toilet locks. They don't fit the kind of toilet seats we have, and we are not in a position to purchase new toilets. We just have to remember to close bathroom doors.
Needless to say, Marcie got a good scrub-down and a change of clothes.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Neighborhood Party
I'm not sure how long I'll leave this post up because it makes something very public I wasn't planning on sharing. It's not that I haven't written about it-- I have. But I always delete the post before I publish it because I want to remain relatively anonymous and this more or less pinpoints who we are. I suppose it's possible one of my neighbors reads this blog, though I doubt it because no one really talks to us much, and we haven't told any of them about it.
Anyway, one of our neighbors is sensitive to dogs barking. And I guess our pugs were barking while we were away. They were also barking around 7am in the morning when we would feed them outside. Our neighbor began by yelling out a second floor window at my mother-in-law, who was feeding the dog. Then she put notes in our mailbox. Then she called the city to complain. Then she wrote a letter of complaint. We tried everything-- containing the dogs, giving them more space, moving them, even bark collars. Months passed (after the bark collars) and we heard nothing. We thought the problem was resolved. This summer, not a week before Chuffy died, we got another warning letter from the city, this one complaining that our dogs bark "continuously and throughout the night." This is false. The dogs are in the house with us at night, crated. We don't leave them out. I explained this to the city. I also explained that there are dog owners in each of the three houses that butt up against our homes and across the street from the complaining neighbors. At first I was mortified that our dogs were making so much racket-- no one wants to be the neighbor with the annoying dogs. But after a while, and no other complaints, I began to wonder if the dogs really were barking all day, or if our neighbor was extra sensitive. There were lots of days I was home all day with the dogs outside and they didn't make a peep. Anyway, it doesn't matter-- if the dogs are barking all day, that's not okay. I couldn't express this to the neighbor because any time I'd go to the door, she would be conveniently unavailable. And even though I'd ask her kids to let her know I'd stopped by, she never came by our home. She doesn't even walk up to the front door-- just leaves notes in the mailbox.
So now it's just Pugasus. We haven't had any complaints since Chuffy died, and we bring him inside if he barks at all. Or we put the bark collar on him.
Well, on Friday night, the neighbors were playing their music so loud just after midnight (so I guess it was Saturday morning), Jason could hear it in our study. He popped his head over the fence and asked them to turn it down. They shut it off.
Then last night, Jason and I were settling in to watch Nacho Libre, but we could barely hear our television. We had all the windows and doors closed in the house. But all we could hear was the pounding bass of the music next door. "They'll turn it off at 10," I told Jason. "Yeah," he agreed. "They are sticklers for the rules." Well, 10pm rolled around. Then 10:15. Then 10:30. Every time a song would change, we'd think, Finally. But then it'd resume again. Jason wanted to call the police. But I said that I wanted to just go next door and ask them to turn it down-- it's a courtesy I'd want paid to me, so I'll do the same.
When I got next door-- at about 10 till 11pm, I rang the bell. I could hear the people inside:
"Don't answer it. Who could it be at this hour."
"Someone probably called the cops."
"Seriously, don't answer it."
Finally, someone did, and I asked to speak to the homewoner. When she came to the door, I said, "Hey, it's kind of late and the baby has woken up twice. I was wondering if you could turn the music down."
Her response?
Something like, "Well, we're having a birthday party. And I left you a note in your mailbox."
I was surprised by the response. "A note? In my mailbox?"
She said, "Yeah. My whole family is town and it's only going to go until midnight."
I replied, "Well, I understand you're having a big party. I see you have caterers, and I certainly don't want to keep you from having a good time. But the baby has already woken up twice, and so could you just turn it down a bit?"
I left. They turned it down. But it threw me off. Somehow I walked away feeling like I was the asshole. Like I was wrong to ask them to turn down the music. You know, the thing is, if they weren't such sticklers for the rules, I probably wouldn't have said anything-- I would have figured it was a one-time thing and let it go. But you can't go around calling the city on your neighbor, leaving them both signed and anonymous notes in their mailbox and on their front door, and then not expect them to hold you to those same standards, you know?
Anyway, I checked the mailbox on my way past it back up the hill-- no note. And when we left this morning at 7am to go walk the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure and drove past the mailbox, there was nothing attached to it. But guess what was taped to the outside of the box when we got home around 10am? Yup, a note from the neighbor. It was dated yesterday, but I just don't buy it. Especially because I looked for it last night.
When I told my friend about my conversation with the neighbor this morning, she said, "You should leave them a note in their mailbox that says: We still have a dog." Her rationale? Apparently as long as you warn someone that you are about to violate a city ordinance, it's okay to do so. . . And that got me to thinking-- my friend is right. That music was so loud. It doesn't matter that she left us a note (if she even did). That doesn't excuse the behavior. How about you just turn down the volume. No one was asking them to move the party inside, even though the voices were loud. We just wanted to be able to hear the television in our own home. Geesh.
Anyway, one of our neighbors is sensitive to dogs barking. And I guess our pugs were barking while we were away. They were also barking around 7am in the morning when we would feed them outside. Our neighbor began by yelling out a second floor window at my mother-in-law, who was feeding the dog. Then she put notes in our mailbox. Then she called the city to complain. Then she wrote a letter of complaint. We tried everything-- containing the dogs, giving them more space, moving them, even bark collars. Months passed (after the bark collars) and we heard nothing. We thought the problem was resolved. This summer, not a week before Chuffy died, we got another warning letter from the city, this one complaining that our dogs bark "continuously and throughout the night." This is false. The dogs are in the house with us at night, crated. We don't leave them out. I explained this to the city. I also explained that there are dog owners in each of the three houses that butt up against our homes and across the street from the complaining neighbors. At first I was mortified that our dogs were making so much racket-- no one wants to be the neighbor with the annoying dogs. But after a while, and no other complaints, I began to wonder if the dogs really were barking all day, or if our neighbor was extra sensitive. There were lots of days I was home all day with the dogs outside and they didn't make a peep. Anyway, it doesn't matter-- if the dogs are barking all day, that's not okay. I couldn't express this to the neighbor because any time I'd go to the door, she would be conveniently unavailable. And even though I'd ask her kids to let her know I'd stopped by, she never came by our home. She doesn't even walk up to the front door-- just leaves notes in the mailbox.
So now it's just Pugasus. We haven't had any complaints since Chuffy died, and we bring him inside if he barks at all. Or we put the bark collar on him.
Well, on Friday night, the neighbors were playing their music so loud just after midnight (so I guess it was Saturday morning), Jason could hear it in our study. He popped his head over the fence and asked them to turn it down. They shut it off.
Then last night, Jason and I were settling in to watch Nacho Libre, but we could barely hear our television. We had all the windows and doors closed in the house. But all we could hear was the pounding bass of the music next door. "They'll turn it off at 10," I told Jason. "Yeah," he agreed. "They are sticklers for the rules." Well, 10pm rolled around. Then 10:15. Then 10:30. Every time a song would change, we'd think, Finally. But then it'd resume again. Jason wanted to call the police. But I said that I wanted to just go next door and ask them to turn it down-- it's a courtesy I'd want paid to me, so I'll do the same.
When I got next door-- at about 10 till 11pm, I rang the bell. I could hear the people inside:
"Don't answer it. Who could it be at this hour."
"Someone probably called the cops."
"Seriously, don't answer it."
Finally, someone did, and I asked to speak to the homewoner. When she came to the door, I said, "Hey, it's kind of late and the baby has woken up twice. I was wondering if you could turn the music down."
Her response?
Something like, "Well, we're having a birthday party. And I left you a note in your mailbox."
I was surprised by the response. "A note? In my mailbox?"
She said, "Yeah. My whole family is town and it's only going to go until midnight."
I replied, "Well, I understand you're having a big party. I see you have caterers, and I certainly don't want to keep you from having a good time. But the baby has already woken up twice, and so could you just turn it down a bit?"
I left. They turned it down. But it threw me off. Somehow I walked away feeling like I was the asshole. Like I was wrong to ask them to turn down the music. You know, the thing is, if they weren't such sticklers for the rules, I probably wouldn't have said anything-- I would have figured it was a one-time thing and let it go. But you can't go around calling the city on your neighbor, leaving them both signed and anonymous notes in their mailbox and on their front door, and then not expect them to hold you to those same standards, you know?
Anyway, I checked the mailbox on my way past it back up the hill-- no note. And when we left this morning at 7am to go walk the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure and drove past the mailbox, there was nothing attached to it. But guess what was taped to the outside of the box when we got home around 10am? Yup, a note from the neighbor. It was dated yesterday, but I just don't buy it. Especially because I looked for it last night.
When I told my friend about my conversation with the neighbor this morning, she said, "You should leave them a note in their mailbox that says: We still have a dog." Her rationale? Apparently as long as you warn someone that you are about to violate a city ordinance, it's okay to do so. . . And that got me to thinking-- my friend is right. That music was so loud. It doesn't matter that she left us a note (if she even did). That doesn't excuse the behavior. How about you just turn down the volume. No one was asking them to move the party inside, even though the voices were loud. We just wanted to be able to hear the television in our own home. Geesh.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Crap (no, this post is not about poop)
Casey is having a hard day. He is antsy. He hit me (and got a time out), pushed Marcie (and got a time out), tried climbing into Marcie's jumparoo again (and got a time out), climbed into and out of Marcie's crib and her pack-n-play, refused to eat lunch, told us "no" when we asked if he wanted to talk on the phone with his birthfamily, and told Jason, "Good bye, Daddy," and slammed the door shut. I think he needs to run around at the park. And the weather is nice, so he might get to after his name.
Anyway, what precipitated this post was the comment he just made. His shirt got juice on it, so he asked to take it off. He hates wearing a shirt with any spots of wetness on them-- even if it's just water. Just now, he walked up to me and Jason, pointed to his arm and said as clearly as day, "There's a bunch of crap on there. " We bust out laughing. At least he used the word correctly!
Anyway, what precipitated this post was the comment he just made. His shirt got juice on it, so he asked to take it off. He hates wearing a shirt with any spots of wetness on them-- even if it's just water. Just now, he walked up to me and Jason, pointed to his arm and said as clearly as day, "There's a bunch of crap on there. " We bust out laughing. At least he used the word correctly!
Friday, November 03, 2006
Macy Day
Boy, I sure am prolific this week!
Before I started blogging-- long before-- I started reading through some blogs. I wasn't religious to many of them. What can I say? I'm a picky reader. But one blog just really spoke to me. It was written by a woman named Elizabeth whose daughter Macy was born in China. Macy is almost a year younger than our son Casey, and a lot of what Elizabether wrote about were things I had either experienced already or was going through at the same time. For some reason (and I think in large part because the blog is so well-written), this blog just spoke to me. So I read it. Religously. When a week passes that Elizabeth doesn't post, I wonder what has kept her away from the computer-- I need my MacyDay fix!
Anyway, today's post on MacyDay is amazing. You can read it below It's called Three Years Ago Today, and it's about Macy's birth-- and her birthmother in China. I've written before about how much we love and appreciate Casey's birth family-- how grateful we are to his birthmother. How difficult it was to watch her say good-bye to Casey when we'd visit. Not because she wasn't happy for Casey. She was. But because she was experiencing a loss, too. We won't get to know Marcie's birthmother. We won't be able to thank her, to share photos of her, to explain how much we love her and how happy and healthy she is. She is somewhere halfway around the world from us, and she will probably spend the rest of her life thinking about this daughter she gave birth to, wondering. Likewise, we are left to wonder. But we know how the story ends because we are living it. . . here, with Marcie (and by the way, Marcie's name similarity to Macy is pure coincidence, in case you are wondering!).
Sometimes people tell us how lucky Marcie is to have come to America to live with us. I think there is probably some truth to that. I'd like to think so. But deep down, I know we're the lucky ones. To know Marcie. To hold her. To be able to express our love for her. And whatever people think of the situation in China, or the painful decision Marcie's birthmother made, I am so grateful to her for this wonderful, precious gift-- because with her loss comes my gain, and even though I've only known Marcie for a couple short months, I already can't remember life without her-- before her. And that makes me the lucky one. I am not expressing it as well as Elizabeth did, though-- so go on and read!
The information below is re-printed with permission from the author, Elizabeth, who has since removed the post from her blog (and removed her blog completely):
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Three Years Ago Today
Three years ago today, somewhere near Suixi China, my daughter was being born. I picture her birth mother as a young, strikingly beautiful woman who was scared, no terrified, as she pushed my daughter out of her body. Frightened at the birthing process and trembling anxiously to see if she had a son or a daughter. I imagine she was not in a hospital for the birth, but in her home or her parents home. I think of the moment of relief she must have felt with her final push and when she heard my daughter make her first wailing announcement to the world. Then the gut wrenching realization as she stared down at her baby that their time together was to be fleeting. That because she was a girl she would be an orphan. She must have swelled with love and utter sadness when she looked at the perfect little baby she made. She checked her fingers and toes, as I did in the Civil Affairs Office. She held her close and smelled her head like I did when I first held my baby in my arms.
My daughter's birth mother kept her for three days before she left her at the gate of a health center. Or maybe it was her father or grandparents who took her from her mother's arms. How did the person feel as they took her and left her, at night, alone and only three days old. Was she covered in blankets that got lost in the moving she did those first few days- from the health center to a police station and finally to the orphanage? What was she wearing? Was it something that her mother lovingly sewed for her as she awaited her birth? Was it a boys outfit? Did they leave a note with her or some trinket to show she was loved? Her birth mother must have nursed her for those three days. Listened to her cries and bonded with her. I think she kept her baby until she felt she was strong enough to survive. When my daughter was found after having spent the night alone in a box at the health centers gate, she was a little under 5 pounds. The finding ad photos I have show a tiny premature baby whose eyes look like those of a fetal kitten. She is in distress in the photo. Not crying, but alone and longing. It's easy to read the confusion.
Tonight when I put my daughter to bed I talked to her about her birth mother. I said to her, " Let's say a prayer and a hello to your China Mommy". She beamed a huge smile and said to me, " Oh my China mommy! China mommy, it's OK". I had a difficult time not bursting into tears. I then said, " China mommy, We want you to know that your baby is very happy, healthy and loved unconditionally by many people now. I couldn't love her any more than I do and I wish you could see how beautiful and happy she is and how good her life is". My daughter looked at me and said, "I love you mommy. My mommy". Then she held my hand and buried her face in my chest. I love her so much and hurt so deeply for what she went through that it chokes me. I know she'll grieve someday for the mother she had in China and that there will be nothing I can do to help her but love her.
I wish I could tell the woman who gave birth to my daughter how much I love her and that she is safe, healthy, beautiful and living a life that few people in China could ever hope to lead. Maybe that would comfort her. I don't know. I want to tell her how much I love the baby she gave birth to and that I love her as well. She gave birth to my daughter. She is someone I will most likely never meet and yet she changed my life forever. Not only did she give my daughter life, she gave me life as well. A life worth living.
Before I started blogging-- long before-- I started reading through some blogs. I wasn't religious to many of them. What can I say? I'm a picky reader. But one blog just really spoke to me. It was written by a woman named Elizabeth whose daughter Macy was born in China. Macy is almost a year younger than our son Casey, and a lot of what Elizabether wrote about were things I had either experienced already or was going through at the same time. For some reason (and I think in large part because the blog is so well-written), this blog just spoke to me. So I read it. Religously. When a week passes that Elizabeth doesn't post, I wonder what has kept her away from the computer-- I need my MacyDay fix!
Anyway, today's post on MacyDay is amazing. You can read it below It's called Three Years Ago Today, and it's about Macy's birth-- and her birthmother in China. I've written before about how much we love and appreciate Casey's birth family-- how grateful we are to his birthmother. How difficult it was to watch her say good-bye to Casey when we'd visit. Not because she wasn't happy for Casey. She was. But because she was experiencing a loss, too. We won't get to know Marcie's birthmother. We won't be able to thank her, to share photos of her, to explain how much we love her and how happy and healthy she is. She is somewhere halfway around the world from us, and she will probably spend the rest of her life thinking about this daughter she gave birth to, wondering. Likewise, we are left to wonder. But we know how the story ends because we are living it. . . here, with Marcie (and by the way, Marcie's name similarity to Macy is pure coincidence, in case you are wondering!).
Sometimes people tell us how lucky Marcie is to have come to America to live with us. I think there is probably some truth to that. I'd like to think so. But deep down, I know we're the lucky ones. To know Marcie. To hold her. To be able to express our love for her. And whatever people think of the situation in China, or the painful decision Marcie's birthmother made, I am so grateful to her for this wonderful, precious gift-- because with her loss comes my gain, and even though I've only known Marcie for a couple short months, I already can't remember life without her-- before her. And that makes me the lucky one. I am not expressing it as well as Elizabeth did, though-- so go on and read!
The information below is re-printed with permission from the author, Elizabeth, who has since removed the post from her blog (and removed her blog completely):
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Three Years Ago Today
Three years ago today, somewhere near Suixi China, my daughter was being born. I picture her birth mother as a young, strikingly beautiful woman who was scared, no terrified, as she pushed my daughter out of her body. Frightened at the birthing process and trembling anxiously to see if she had a son or a daughter. I imagine she was not in a hospital for the birth, but in her home or her parents home. I think of the moment of relief she must have felt with her final push and when she heard my daughter make her first wailing announcement to the world. Then the gut wrenching realization as she stared down at her baby that their time together was to be fleeting. That because she was a girl she would be an orphan. She must have swelled with love and utter sadness when she looked at the perfect little baby she made. She checked her fingers and toes, as I did in the Civil Affairs Office. She held her close and smelled her head like I did when I first held my baby in my arms.
My daughter's birth mother kept her for three days before she left her at the gate of a health center. Or maybe it was her father or grandparents who took her from her mother's arms. How did the person feel as they took her and left her, at night, alone and only three days old. Was she covered in blankets that got lost in the moving she did those first few days- from the health center to a police station and finally to the orphanage? What was she wearing? Was it something that her mother lovingly sewed for her as she awaited her birth? Was it a boys outfit? Did they leave a note with her or some trinket to show she was loved? Her birth mother must have nursed her for those three days. Listened to her cries and bonded with her. I think she kept her baby until she felt she was strong enough to survive. When my daughter was found after having spent the night alone in a box at the health centers gate, she was a little under 5 pounds. The finding ad photos I have show a tiny premature baby whose eyes look like those of a fetal kitten. She is in distress in the photo. Not crying, but alone and longing. It's easy to read the confusion.
Tonight when I put my daughter to bed I talked to her about her birth mother. I said to her, " Let's say a prayer and a hello to your China Mommy". She beamed a huge smile and said to me, " Oh my China mommy! China mommy, it's OK". I had a difficult time not bursting into tears. I then said, " China mommy, We want you to know that your baby is very happy, healthy and loved unconditionally by many people now. I couldn't love her any more than I do and I wish you could see how beautiful and happy she is and how good her life is". My daughter looked at me and said, "I love you mommy. My mommy". Then she held my hand and buried her face in my chest. I love her so much and hurt so deeply for what she went through that it chokes me. I know she'll grieve someday for the mother she had in China and that there will be nothing I can do to help her but love her.
I wish I could tell the woman who gave birth to my daughter how much I love her and that she is safe, healthy, beautiful and living a life that few people in China could ever hope to lead. Maybe that would comfort her. I don't know. I want to tell her how much I love the baby she gave birth to and that I love her as well. She gave birth to my daughter. She is someone I will most likely never meet and yet she changed my life forever. Not only did she give my daughter life, she gave me life as well. A life worth living.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Archie, a Slice of Cake, and Stinky Poo
If you don't know me well, you probably think I'm obsessed with poop, considering all the writing about it I've done. When Jason and I first started dating, my stomach was bothering me one night. When I complained about it, he suggested, "Maybe you have to poop." I didn't. But that wasn't the point. I was mortified that he would even think such a thing, let alone suggest it out loud. Obviously I've come a loooong way from those days . . .
My friend Delinda has a dog Archie. She is in her last year of law school and planning her wedding. She is living with her parents to help save money, and between bar expenses and wedding expenses, who can blame her?!? (And if you are wondering, yes, she is paying rent of some amount.) Anyway, the other day she woke up to an awful, eye-watering stench in her room . . . upon investigation, she discovered a pile of dog poo on top of a pile of dirty laundry. Sickened by the smell, she immediately cleaned it up. . .
Later in the day she was relaying to her mother how strange it was that her dog crapped in the bedroom on a pile of clothes. He's been house-broken for years and isn't old enough to have problems with it. Then her mother let her in on a little secret:
My friend Delinda has a dog Archie. She is in her last year of law school and planning her wedding. She is living with her parents to help save money, and between bar expenses and wedding expenses, who can blame her?!? (And if you are wondering, yes, she is paying rent of some amount.) Anyway, the other day she woke up to an awful, eye-watering stench in her room . . . upon investigation, she discovered a pile of dog poo on top of a pile of dirty laundry. Sickened by the smell, she immediately cleaned it up. . .
Later in the day she was relaying to her mother how strange it was that her dog crapped in the bedroom on a pile of clothes. He's been house-broken for years and isn't old enough to have problems with it. Then her mother let her in on a little secret:
That is a picture of Archie eating a slice of cake. The other two dogs in the photos were celebrating their first birthday. And in honor of the celebration, Delinda's mom made them cake. And fed it to them. I'm sure Archie savored that slice of cake. But, boy did he pay for it later-- and so did Delinda!
On a side note (one which I think will amuse my own mother), if you have pets that roam the house-- or even escape on occasion and wander throughout the house-- I don't recommend leaving piles of clothes (dirty or clean) anywhere. When I was in high school, I had this beautiful business outfit that I wore for debate tournaments. It was really expensive, and I begged my parents to let me have it. I looked very professional in it. One weekend, weary from lack of sleep, I left my beautiful outfit in a pile on the floor of my bedroom. My beloved cat Popcorn took this opportunity to pee. All over it. Dog pee is bad. But cat pee-- well, it's pretty unbearable. To this day, my mom reminds me of this error in judgment (and cleanliness) on my part. You'd think this would have taught me not to leave piles of clothes around, but that's actually not the case. Even though I'm a thirty-something with two kids, a spouse, and a dog, I still leave my clothes in piles on the floor. Or the bed. Or the chair. Now I just know to put up the dog gate so the dog can't mark my stuff as his. . .
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Happy Falloween!
No, that's not a typo. That's how Casey says, "Happy Halloween!" (Falloween rhymes with Halloween in this scenario.)
This year we went trick-or-treating for real. For over an hour! It was a blast. I had class, but I booked out of there as soon as it ended at 6:45pm and was home around 7:15pm, as Jason pulled the last little ladybug bootie on Marcie's foot.
Jason's parents generously offered to come hand out candy at our house so we could both take the kids trick-or-treating. Jason's sister Tiffany came with us, and we brought along her dog Barley, too. We started by going a little up the hill from our house-- we live almost at the top, so we don't get many trick-or-treaters. If you go to the bottom of our hill, there is a long stretch of neighborhood that is relatively flat, and it's like a mall on Halloween. It's crazy! I can't imagine how much candy those houses go through. But because we live in an area that is only lightly travelled, the kiddos scored full sized candy bars! This is especially a treat for me and Jason because Marcie is too young for candy bars and Casey is so picky, he really only eats MnMs and Tootsie Rolls! My parents sent the kids Halloween cards and glow necklaces ("How cool!" according to Casey.), which we used while traversing the neighborhood.
Anyway, we stayed on our block, then went down a long, windy hill to our friends' house. They recently remodeled the interior (it's beautiful) and we hadn't seen it yet. So it was fun to poke around. And Casey was an amazingly well-mannered Buzz Lightyear. When the door opened, he called out "Trick or treat." And once he got the candy he said, "Thank you so much" or "Thank you very much." Never just thanks. It was so grown-up and so cute. Then, he'd call out "Happy Falloween!" as we left. Every once in a while, when he got something he liked, he'd say, "Look at that, Mommy." It was very cute. When we got home, he asked to tear into the Cars candy he got-- fruit snacks in the shape of the Cars movie characters. He took two bites out of the Chick piece, and he hated it. But he was so polite about it! He said, "I want spit out, Mommy," with this look of terror on his face. Of course we let him spit it out--we were just delighted he was willing to try something new!
I still haven't found my camera, but I promise to update this post when I get the photos Jason's dad snapped for us. I'm so grateful they came over to help out-- it really was a treat to take the kiddos trick-or-treating together.
The rest of the night was less stellar, unfortunately. Both kids have a cold. Marcie was up basically every two hours. The first time she was wet and the other two times she was hungry. The last time, she would fall asleep on my chest, but when I'd lay her in her crib, she'd wake right up and begin shrieking. Some time around 4:30am, my angel-of-a-husband rolled over (as Marcie's shrieking began after I put her in bed) and said, "I'll get her." It was awesome. For me. It was pretty sucky for him.
This morning, Marcie has experienced two total diaper blow-outs. Both kids have whined more in the am hours than in the past month, and I'm running on a low gas tank from sleeping in 1 1/2 to 2 hour intervals. We'll sleep them with their humidifiers tonight. Having two sick children is hard, but at the moment I'm counting my blessings that I'm not sick too-- otherwise it would be a nightmare to try and care for them (knock on wood here).
Despite the lack of sleep, Halloweed was fun-- beautiful weather, polite children-- I really couldn't have asked for a more perfect evening!
This year we went trick-or-treating for real. For over an hour! It was a blast. I had class, but I booked out of there as soon as it ended at 6:45pm and was home around 7:15pm, as Jason pulled the last little ladybug bootie on Marcie's foot.
Jason's parents generously offered to come hand out candy at our house so we could both take the kids trick-or-treating. Jason's sister Tiffany came with us, and we brought along her dog Barley, too. We started by going a little up the hill from our house-- we live almost at the top, so we don't get many trick-or-treaters. If you go to the bottom of our hill, there is a long stretch of neighborhood that is relatively flat, and it's like a mall on Halloween. It's crazy! I can't imagine how much candy those houses go through. But because we live in an area that is only lightly travelled, the kiddos scored full sized candy bars! This is especially a treat for me and Jason because Marcie is too young for candy bars and Casey is so picky, he really only eats MnMs and Tootsie Rolls! My parents sent the kids Halloween cards and glow necklaces ("How cool!" according to Casey.), which we used while traversing the neighborhood.
Anyway, we stayed on our block, then went down a long, windy hill to our friends' house. They recently remodeled the interior (it's beautiful) and we hadn't seen it yet. So it was fun to poke around. And Casey was an amazingly well-mannered Buzz Lightyear. When the door opened, he called out "Trick or treat." And once he got the candy he said, "Thank you so much" or "Thank you very much." Never just thanks. It was so grown-up and so cute. Then, he'd call out "Happy Falloween!" as we left. Every once in a while, when he got something he liked, he'd say, "Look at that, Mommy." It was very cute. When we got home, he asked to tear into the Cars candy he got-- fruit snacks in the shape of the Cars movie characters. He took two bites out of the Chick piece, and he hated it. But he was so polite about it! He said, "I want spit out, Mommy," with this look of terror on his face. Of course we let him spit it out--we were just delighted he was willing to try something new!
I still haven't found my camera, but I promise to update this post when I get the photos Jason's dad snapped for us. I'm so grateful they came over to help out-- it really was a treat to take the kiddos trick-or-treating together.
The rest of the night was less stellar, unfortunately. Both kids have a cold. Marcie was up basically every two hours. The first time she was wet and the other two times she was hungry. The last time, she would fall asleep on my chest, but when I'd lay her in her crib, she'd wake right up and begin shrieking. Some time around 4:30am, my angel-of-a-husband rolled over (as Marcie's shrieking began after I put her in bed) and said, "I'll get her." It was awesome. For me. It was pretty sucky for him.
This morning, Marcie has experienced two total diaper blow-outs. Both kids have whined more in the am hours than in the past month, and I'm running on a low gas tank from sleeping in 1 1/2 to 2 hour intervals. We'll sleep them with their humidifiers tonight. Having two sick children is hard, but at the moment I'm counting my blessings that I'm not sick too-- otherwise it would be a nightmare to try and care for them (knock on wood here).
Despite the lack of sleep, Halloweed was fun-- beautiful weather, polite children-- I really couldn't have asked for a more perfect evening!
Things You Aren't Supposed to Write About
This morning while I was trying to go to the bathroom, I had the funniest thing happen. Actually, I wasn't trying to go to the bathroom-- I was going to the bathroom. And that is why this post is something you aren't supposed to write about. Anyone who's spent any time with a child alone at home-- a mobile child who likes to get into trouble-- knows that you can't just leave the child roaming the house when nature calls. You have to bring the baby with you. So I did. I left her right outside the bathroom door, with a toy. And the door to the bathroom open so I could see her at all times.
But she doesn't like to sit still. So Marcie crawled over to me. Then the dog came bounding into the room-- I'm not sure how he got around the baby gate that was supposd to keep him in the family room, but he did. So here is the image:
There I was sitting on toilet with my pants pulled down roughly to my knees. Marcie had crawled in and was trying to pull herself up to a standing position, using my pants. Instead, she ended up back on her bottom, her hands on my pants, which were then tangled around my ankles. And there was our dog Pugasus-- sniffing Marcie's butt.
I totally laughed out loud at the picture. If I could find my camera and it weren't me on the toilet, I would have tried to snap a photo. Gotta love kids. And dogs. They sure do make life amusing.
But she doesn't like to sit still. So Marcie crawled over to me. Then the dog came bounding into the room-- I'm not sure how he got around the baby gate that was supposd to keep him in the family room, but he did. So here is the image:
There I was sitting on toilet with my pants pulled down roughly to my knees. Marcie had crawled in and was trying to pull herself up to a standing position, using my pants. Instead, she ended up back on her bottom, her hands on my pants, which were then tangled around my ankles. And there was our dog Pugasus-- sniffing Marcie's butt.
I totally laughed out loud at the picture. If I could find my camera and it weren't me on the toilet, I would have tried to snap a photo. Gotta love kids. And dogs. They sure do make life amusing.
Monday, October 30, 2006
I Don't Exist?
I clicked a link to a website that tells you how many people have the same name as you in the U.S. I thought it'd be cool to see how many people share my exact name. First, I typed in my maiden name. 14 people have my maiden name (first and last). Next, I typed in the name I use when I am out and about with my family. This is not technically my married name, because my legal name is my maiden surname and my husband's surname, with no hyphen-- just a space between the two. Anyway, I entered in my first name and my family's surname and it told me there are 2 people who have this name. Interesting. . .
So I wondered if anyone else has my exact, legal name. Does anyone else share the name Karen H_____ S_____? Here is the result that I got back:
Yeah. That was the result. Seriously. ZERO. That totally sucks. It means that someone, somewhere has not entered my real name into whatever database this website is using correctly. I know my social security card has my correct name. I know we file our taxes with my legal name every year. Heck, all my fingerprint files and our adoption paperwork used my legal name, so what gives?
Sigh. So apparently I don't exist. . . Oh well.
Update
So I thought I'd look up my kids' names to see how many of them there are. This is what the screen says for both of them:
So I wondered if anyone else has my exact, legal name. Does anyone else share the name Karen H_____ S_____? Here is the result that I got back:
Yeah. That was the result. Seriously. ZERO. That totally sucks. It means that someone, somewhere has not entered my real name into whatever database this website is using correctly. I know my social security card has my correct name. I know we file our taxes with my legal name every year. Heck, all my fingerprint files and our adoption paperwork used my legal name, so what gives?
Sigh. So apparently I don't exist. . . Oh well.
Update
So I thought I'd look up my kids' names to see how many of them there are. This is what the screen says for both of them:
- There are 0 people in the U.S. named Casey (or Marcie) S______.
- While both names you entered were found in our database, neither was common enough to make it likely that someone in the U.S. has that name.
Aha! They aren't searching a database at all. They are just doing a statistical analysis! When I looked closer, this is what it said about my (legal) last name:
- One or both of the names you entered were not found in our database.
So apparently the probability of my kids' names existing is virtually zero, but my name really does not exist. Go figure.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
It Finally Happened
Today was like any typical Saturday in quiet, idyllic suburbia. . . Ok. Let's try that again. Today was like any typical Saturday in . . . suburbia. I took Marcie to her Little Gym class at 8:15am. Jason took Casey to soccer at 9:00am. We met at home around 10:30am, and we decided it was time to get Casey a pair of dark shoes because he's been asking for his old (and too small) dark-colored shoes. We headed over to our local Target shopping center, where there is a Famous Footwear. Silly me, I said, "Hey! Look at these Cars shoes!" What an idiot-- Casey wouldn't even consider the black Sketchers a little further down the aisle. We told him they didn't have the Cars shoes in his size (which wasn't actually true), but he began insisting that he try them all on to see if they were too small. So we gave it. That's not to say Jason was too pleased with it-- but there you have it.
Next we wandered over to Target for an air purifier for Marcie's room. Normally I'd check out the Home Depot selection, but we have a whole lotta gift card money at Target. They didn't have the real hepa-filter we wanted, so we decided to head back home. . . Sort of.
Before getting in the car, Jason suggested lunch at Chicken Pie Diner-- a 50s place that stole our babysitter away from us. Not really. Well, kind of. Our babysitter Audie had been watching Casey for an entire school year every Wednesday night like clockwork-- with the occasional Friday or Saturday night gig. We paid around $9 per hour. But when summer came, she longed for a more regular job, and so she took a position as a hostess at the Chicken Pie Diner. We joked that she was better off working for us once or twice a week at $9/hour than at the Diner for minimum wage-- but we never said anything to her. Nothing wrong with a girl having some work ethic, you know. And she really wanted that job. We were sad to lose her, but we understood. Anyway, that's where we went for lunch, and she was there! Casey was thrilled to see her, and she got to meet Marcie, which was nice.
We swung back by the house to give Marcie a bottle and to change her clothes, then took the kids to Grandma and Grandpa's house for a few hours so we could go on a date. By the time we left, it was around 1:10 pm, and we had massage appointments for 2:15pm. It worked out just about perfectly. Post (glorious) massage, we retrieved the kids, changed them into their Halloween costumes and went off to a Halloween party/carnival with them.
That's when it finally happened. Walking through the parking lot, Casey in his Buzz Lightyear costume from last year (which he wore most of the day today) and Marcie in her ladybug outfit, Jason was trying to get me to answer a question. I don't even know what the question was, actually. All I know is that I turned back to look down at Casey's feet and at Jason to see what he was asking me about, and when I turned back around, it was too late. Bonk! I walked into the side door mirror of a very old, very large pickup truck. Fortunately there was a car parked right next to it for me to lean against, because I felt suddenly very dizzy and like crying. I didn't want to upset Casey, who as I fell against the car instantly began repeatedly asking, "Mommy okay? Mommy okay?" I am okay as it happens. But I do have a nice, bruised lump on my forehead. Thank goodness for bangs!
After the party we took the kids to Red Robin for dinner and then headed back home. I am supposed to be studying, but I had to stop and write because I just bent over to pick something up off the floor, and when the blood rushed to my forehead, it began throbbing. I had to chuckle at what a klutz I am. Seriously, who walks into the side mirror of a car and nearly knocks themself out? Apparently me.
In good news, today Daylight Savings is over! Now when Casey comes to wake me up at 6:00am, I won't be able to tell him, "Casey- it's pitch black out and the middle of the night. Go back to bed!"
Next we wandered over to Target for an air purifier for Marcie's room. Normally I'd check out the Home Depot selection, but we have a whole lotta gift card money at Target. They didn't have the real hepa-filter we wanted, so we decided to head back home. . . Sort of.
Before getting in the car, Jason suggested lunch at Chicken Pie Diner-- a 50s place that stole our babysitter away from us. Not really. Well, kind of. Our babysitter Audie had been watching Casey for an entire school year every Wednesday night like clockwork-- with the occasional Friday or Saturday night gig. We paid around $9 per hour. But when summer came, she longed for a more regular job, and so she took a position as a hostess at the Chicken Pie Diner. We joked that she was better off working for us once or twice a week at $9/hour than at the Diner for minimum wage-- but we never said anything to her. Nothing wrong with a girl having some work ethic, you know. And she really wanted that job. We were sad to lose her, but we understood. Anyway, that's where we went for lunch, and she was there! Casey was thrilled to see her, and she got to meet Marcie, which was nice.
We swung back by the house to give Marcie a bottle and to change her clothes, then took the kids to Grandma and Grandpa's house for a few hours so we could go on a date. By the time we left, it was around 1:10 pm, and we had massage appointments for 2:15pm. It worked out just about perfectly. Post (glorious) massage, we retrieved the kids, changed them into their Halloween costumes and went off to a Halloween party/carnival with them.
That's when it finally happened. Walking through the parking lot, Casey in his Buzz Lightyear costume from last year (which he wore most of the day today) and Marcie in her ladybug outfit, Jason was trying to get me to answer a question. I don't even know what the question was, actually. All I know is that I turned back to look down at Casey's feet and at Jason to see what he was asking me about, and when I turned back around, it was too late. Bonk! I walked into the side door mirror of a very old, very large pickup truck. Fortunately there was a car parked right next to it for me to lean against, because I felt suddenly very dizzy and like crying. I didn't want to upset Casey, who as I fell against the car instantly began repeatedly asking, "Mommy okay? Mommy okay?" I am okay as it happens. But I do have a nice, bruised lump on my forehead. Thank goodness for bangs!
After the party we took the kids to Red Robin for dinner and then headed back home. I am supposed to be studying, but I had to stop and write because I just bent over to pick something up off the floor, and when the blood rushed to my forehead, it began throbbing. I had to chuckle at what a klutz I am. Seriously, who walks into the side mirror of a car and nearly knocks themself out? Apparently me.
In good news, today Daylight Savings is over! Now when Casey comes to wake me up at 6:00am, I won't be able to tell him, "Casey- it's pitch black out and the middle of the night. Go back to bed!"
Friday, October 27, 2006
The Great Diaper Explosion-- Times Six? (I lost count. . .)
So remember that gross stomach bug Casey had last week? The one that resulted in numerous loads of laundry and gagging by someone not easily phased by poop? Well guess who else has it! From the title of this post, hopefully you surmised that the answer is not me. . . poor Marcie. My usually good-natured little girl has turned into super whiny kid. The first explosion, around 10am this morning, resulted in a bath for Marcie. Explosions two and three were mere minutes apart (thank goodness I got a clean diaper on her in between!). The scent rivals the sewagy smells that accompaneied Marcie's first poops in China-- the ones she pushed through with the help of the suppositories. It's pretty gross. But it doesn't seem to have stifled her appetite any-- at least not yet!
Update
I posted that post around, oh, I'd say 1:15pm. It's now 4:30pm. I think I've changed six diapers since then. And thrown three shirts and a pair of shorts in the laundry (two of the shirts were Marcie's; the other one was mine). And after the fourth poop episode, Marcie barfed. All over me. Fortunately I was wearing shorts, so it was relatively easy to clean. And bless her hear, she managed not to get the carpet with it! And so I took her temperature. It's 99.7 in her ear. I know that doesn't sound like much, but her normal temperature is in the 97-degree range, not even the standard 98.6. So I think she might have the flu, poor kid.
I did the teaspoon of pedialyte, and she threw up within the first 10 minutes. I waited 30 more minutes and did another teaspoon about 5 minutes ago-- so far, so good. Except that she pooped again-- but the timing was too close together for it to be related.
The nurse told me no solid foods for the rest of the day. . . uh . . . have you met my daughter? The one who eats and eats and eats? The one who gets fussy if she has to wait more than three hours for food? Yes, yes-- they know it will suck, and so maybe some cheerios or noodles or crackers-- a little bit. But definitely no bottles until she doesn't vomit for 8 hours straight. And then lactose free stuff. . .
Update
I posted that post around, oh, I'd say 1:15pm. It's now 4:30pm. I think I've changed six diapers since then. And thrown three shirts and a pair of shorts in the laundry (two of the shirts were Marcie's; the other one was mine). And after the fourth poop episode, Marcie barfed. All over me. Fortunately I was wearing shorts, so it was relatively easy to clean. And bless her hear, she managed not to get the carpet with it! And so I took her temperature. It's 99.7 in her ear. I know that doesn't sound like much, but her normal temperature is in the 97-degree range, not even the standard 98.6. So I think she might have the flu, poor kid.
I did the teaspoon of pedialyte, and she threw up within the first 10 minutes. I waited 30 more minutes and did another teaspoon about 5 minutes ago-- so far, so good. Except that she pooped again-- but the timing was too close together for it to be related.
The nurse told me no solid foods for the rest of the day. . . uh . . . have you met my daughter? The one who eats and eats and eats? The one who gets fussy if she has to wait more than three hours for food? Yes, yes-- they know it will suck, and so maybe some cheerios or noodles or crackers-- a little bit. But definitely no bottles until she doesn't vomit for 8 hours straight. And then lactose free stuff. . .
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Pretty in Pink
Not for the faint of heart
Seriously, this post will gross you out if you can't handle a poop conversation. And a gross one at that. . . So you've been warned.
We have this sort-of rule at our home. I do the poop and Jason does the vomit. I don't like the poop, but I don't feel like pooping just because I'm cleaning up poop (how many times can a girl use the word poop in a single sentence?!?). I can't say the same thing for vomit. I don't like human or dog vomit, and I'm likely to go get Jason out of bed if the dog throws up in the house in the early morning hours, rather than clean it myself (which, come to think of it, means that Jason owes me because last weekend, the dog did throw up in the house twice and I cleaned it up both times!).
Anyway, it's been a bit poopy around our house. On Friday morning, Casey woke me up telling me he had to poop. And poop he did. Gross, stinky, light brown diarrhea -- into the toilet (thankfully). Unfortunately, his pajama top was on the long-ish side, which meant it didn't fair to well. And so I cleaned it up. Casey tried to make it to the bathroom the second time he had to go-- I actually think he thought he was just going to pass gas, but it turned out to be something more. So underwear and shorts had to have a good scrub-down, too. I took him to his OT, which was only 30 minutes. But he needed to go again as soon as he was done with the therapist. The elementary school has a strict rule prohibiting any adults from being in any of the kids' bathrooms. I didn't have time to walk Casey to the other side of the school and use the adult bathroom because I knew he wouldn't hold it. So I sent him into the boys' restroom at the school to fend for himself. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course he was going to need help wiping. In fact, I saw him waddle out of the stall, pants around his ankles, asking for help-- standing in the middle of the bathroom. I wasn't about to leave him standing there, so in I went-- into the boys' bathroom. On my knees, I helped wipe in down, step out of his Thomas underwear (which hadn't escaped some yuck), and snuck out. But not before another little boy came in and used a urinal. Guess he wasn't too concerned about me being there. And no, I didn't see anything.
Needless to say, we kept Casey home from school on Friday. My parents came into town, and he seemed to be doing better. I chalked it up to something he'd eaten. He was fine all day Saturday, though he didn't eat much-- and he turned down chocolate cake.
But then, in the middle of the night, I guess around 3am, he woke up my parents with his crying. He had crapped in his diaper some time in the middle of the night-- and then it got caked in. Until he moved, which is when it rubbed onto all his clothes and maybe the comforter. My mom cleaned him up and put him to bed-- and all this happened without me hearing a thing! When I went in the following morning, he had my parents' comforter over him and a change of clothes.
Sunday was much like Friday. He had no appetite. He didn't even want the pizza at Red Robin, which is his very favorite food. Sunday around midnight, when I checked on him, he stank. I woke him up and wiped him down. I changed his clothes. And I put him back to bed. In the morning I called doctor. Apparently there is a bug going around that usually starts with a day to a day and a half of vomitting. And the diarrhea is supposed to be the end of the virus-- the time when it moves out of the system. It sure did linger with Casey. Finally yesterday (Tuesday) he seemed better.
And this morning he was back to his old antics. You know, refusing to pick out clothes. Telling me no when I said it was time to brush his teeth. And asking for two bowls of cereal for breakfast (consecutively, not at the same time!).
But while he's been home-- and babied-- he sure got used to it. Lately he has been insisting that there are two babies in our home-- Marcie and Casey. He wants to do everything she does. He asks for a bottle, asks to play in her pack n play and her crib, and wants a "turn" in the stroller and the high chair. Yesterday morning, when I went to change my clothes, I heard a strange noise in the other room, like someone bouncing in the Jumperoo. But Marcie was with me. When I went into the family room, this is what I saw:
Later in the morning, I heard Casey yelping for help. He'd gotten one leg into Marcie's exer-saucer before getting stuck. Then, he insisted on trying on all of Marcie's robeez slippers-- pink butterfly ones and all. He knows they are too small, but he still wants them.
Then today Casey all of a sudden didn't want to go to school. When we went into the classroom, and he wouldn't let go of my leg, I told him he needed to go sit in the circle, or he would have to go home. Boy, was that a mistake. He looked me right in the eyes and said, "I want go home." Oops. Eventually he agreed to sit on the yellow square next to the volunteer reading the class a story. It amazes me how quickly you can undo a routine, though-- it takes weeks and weeks and weeks to set it up. Then one minor stomach bug and BAM! You have to start all over again.
I guess that's one thing about being a parent-- you've got a be willing to do the same thing over and over again-- whether it's cleaning up poop in the middle of the night, multiple nights in a row, or re-establishing a routine. You just have to stick to it . . .
We have this sort-of rule at our home. I do the poop and Jason does the vomit. I don't like the poop, but I don't feel like pooping just because I'm cleaning up poop (how many times can a girl use the word poop in a single sentence?!?). I can't say the same thing for vomit. I don't like human or dog vomit, and I'm likely to go get Jason out of bed if the dog throws up in the house in the early morning hours, rather than clean it myself (which, come to think of it, means that Jason owes me because last weekend, the dog did throw up in the house twice and I cleaned it up both times!).
Anyway, it's been a bit poopy around our house. On Friday morning, Casey woke me up telling me he had to poop. And poop he did. Gross, stinky, light brown diarrhea -- into the toilet (thankfully). Unfortunately, his pajama top was on the long-ish side, which meant it didn't fair to well. And so I cleaned it up. Casey tried to make it to the bathroom the second time he had to go-- I actually think he thought he was just going to pass gas, but it turned out to be something more. So underwear and shorts had to have a good scrub-down, too. I took him to his OT, which was only 30 minutes. But he needed to go again as soon as he was done with the therapist. The elementary school has a strict rule prohibiting any adults from being in any of the kids' bathrooms. I didn't have time to walk Casey to the other side of the school and use the adult bathroom because I knew he wouldn't hold it. So I sent him into the boys' restroom at the school to fend for himself. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course he was going to need help wiping. In fact, I saw him waddle out of the stall, pants around his ankles, asking for help-- standing in the middle of the bathroom. I wasn't about to leave him standing there, so in I went-- into the boys' bathroom. On my knees, I helped wipe in down, step out of his Thomas underwear (which hadn't escaped some yuck), and snuck out. But not before another little boy came in and used a urinal. Guess he wasn't too concerned about me being there. And no, I didn't see anything.
Needless to say, we kept Casey home from school on Friday. My parents came into town, and he seemed to be doing better. I chalked it up to something he'd eaten. He was fine all day Saturday, though he didn't eat much-- and he turned down chocolate cake.
But then, in the middle of the night, I guess around 3am, he woke up my parents with his crying. He had crapped in his diaper some time in the middle of the night-- and then it got caked in. Until he moved, which is when it rubbed onto all his clothes and maybe the comforter. My mom cleaned him up and put him to bed-- and all this happened without me hearing a thing! When I went in the following morning, he had my parents' comforter over him and a change of clothes.
Sunday was much like Friday. He had no appetite. He didn't even want the pizza at Red Robin, which is his very favorite food. Sunday around midnight, when I checked on him, he stank. I woke him up and wiped him down. I changed his clothes. And I put him back to bed. In the morning I called doctor. Apparently there is a bug going around that usually starts with a day to a day and a half of vomitting. And the diarrhea is supposed to be the end of the virus-- the time when it moves out of the system. It sure did linger with Casey. Finally yesterday (Tuesday) he seemed better.
And this morning he was back to his old antics. You know, refusing to pick out clothes. Telling me no when I said it was time to brush his teeth. And asking for two bowls of cereal for breakfast (consecutively, not at the same time!).
But while he's been home-- and babied-- he sure got used to it. Lately he has been insisting that there are two babies in our home-- Marcie and Casey. He wants to do everything she does. He asks for a bottle, asks to play in her pack n play and her crib, and wants a "turn" in the stroller and the high chair. Yesterday morning, when I went to change my clothes, I heard a strange noise in the other room, like someone bouncing in the Jumperoo. But Marcie was with me. When I went into the family room, this is what I saw:
Later in the morning, I heard Casey yelping for help. He'd gotten one leg into Marcie's exer-saucer before getting stuck. Then, he insisted on trying on all of Marcie's robeez slippers-- pink butterfly ones and all. He knows they are too small, but he still wants them.
Then today Casey all of a sudden didn't want to go to school. When we went into the classroom, and he wouldn't let go of my leg, I told him he needed to go sit in the circle, or he would have to go home. Boy, was that a mistake. He looked me right in the eyes and said, "I want go home." Oops. Eventually he agreed to sit on the yellow square next to the volunteer reading the class a story. It amazes me how quickly you can undo a routine, though-- it takes weeks and weeks and weeks to set it up. Then one minor stomach bug and BAM! You have to start all over again.
I guess that's one thing about being a parent-- you've got a be willing to do the same thing over and over again-- whether it's cleaning up poop in the middle of the night, multiple nights in a row, or re-establishing a routine. You just have to stick to it . . .
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
What happens in Vegas . . .
So each October since I started law school two of my good friends have gone to Vegas without me. It's not that I'm not invited; it's just that I cannot go because of one thing or another. I have managed to head on over to Vegas two springs-- once with both of them and once with one of them, but the three of us haven't made it to Vegas together since May of 2004.
They are there now. Or maybe they return today. They called yesterday on their way to a show, after an amazing dinner and shots that either started before or during dinner (their voicemail/ answering machine messages were not clear on this point).
I admit it. I'm a little jealous. I'm happy for them to be there. I just wish I could be, too. And truth be told, I probably could have gone-- but I'm just not quite ready to be away from the kiddos overnight just yet. And it's just as well since Casey's been home sick.
Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout-out to my friends -- hopefully it won't take them too long to recover from the trip. I'll never know all that they are recovering from because, of course, what happens in Vegas . . . stays in Vegas.
They are there now. Or maybe they return today. They called yesterday on their way to a show, after an amazing dinner and shots that either started before or during dinner (their voicemail/ answering machine messages were not clear on this point).
I admit it. I'm a little jealous. I'm happy for them to be there. I just wish I could be, too. And truth be told, I probably could have gone-- but I'm just not quite ready to be away from the kiddos overnight just yet. And it's just as well since Casey's been home sick.
Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout-out to my friends -- hopefully it won't take them too long to recover from the trip. I'll never know all that they are recovering from because, of course, what happens in Vegas . . . stays in Vegas.
Welcome Marcie Shindig
I honestly don't remember that much from the Welcome Marcie party. It was all kind of a blur of people coming and going. Fortunately, my father in law snapped some photos of the event.
Marcie did really well with a house full of strangers (to her). The weather was gorgeous and warm. The boys got to run around and play on the straw bales in the backyard. There was plenty of food. Casey came to me at 2pm and said he was ready for his nap, which was amazing. Marcie also napped at her usual times. We got to see Lisa and Tito, who were LID to China January 1st of this year. I'm glad they could come meet Marcie. The wait has really dragged on for them, and it took them about a year to do the paperchase, so it must feel like it's really taking forever.
My parents were in town for the baptism and welcome Marcie party, which was really nice of them. We aren't planning on a big shindig for her first birthday, since it'll be in less than a month. We will do our own cake and ice cream, but I'm all partied out for now.
To view a slideshow of the shindig, select any of the photos below. This will take you outside blogger, so you'll have to use the back arrow in your browser window to return to the blog. Also, Flickr doesn't show you the captions in slideshow view, so you'll have to see the captions below the photos. Don't forget to return to the post to read about the rest of the weekend!
Marcie did really well with a house full of strangers (to her). The weather was gorgeous and warm. The boys got to run around and play on the straw bales in the backyard. There was plenty of food. Casey came to me at 2pm and said he was ready for his nap, which was amazing. Marcie also napped at her usual times. We got to see Lisa and Tito, who were LID to China January 1st of this year. I'm glad they could come meet Marcie. The wait has really dragged on for them, and it took them about a year to do the paperchase, so it must feel like it's really taking forever.
My parents were in town for the baptism and welcome Marcie party, which was really nice of them. We aren't planning on a big shindig for her first birthday, since it'll be in less than a month. We will do our own cake and ice cream, but I'm all partied out for now.
To view a slideshow of the shindig, select any of the photos below. This will take you outside blogger, so you'll have to use the back arrow in your browser window to return to the blog. Also, Flickr doesn't show you the captions in slideshow view, so you'll have to see the captions below the photos. Don't forget to return to the post to read about the rest of the weekend!
Captions:
1. Casey and Cousin Joey running around on the straw bales in the backyard.
2. Casey running through the straw.
3. More straw fun.
4. Slid fun for Cousin Joey (no, we don't call him this-- we just call him Joey).
5. Some folks in the kitchen-- Pam, Ana, Manny, Joann, and Grandma S.
6. Keely & Kate-- Like Mother, Like Daughter-- I hope Keely doesn't kill me for including this one!
7. Patrick and his daughter Eva (I think Mother Maria was sitting right next to them, but just didn't get into this photo-- sorry Maria!).
8. Jason, Ann, and Christian chillin' in the warm weather and shade.
9. Ann, Al, Grandma S., and Tiffany grabbin' some grub.
10. Lisa and Grace chit chat while Matt drinks and Tito looks at photos from the orphanage (Lisa and Tito are LID 1-1-07, so keep them in your thoughts).
11. Marcie-- the girl of the hour.
12. Geoff with Katelyn.
13. Casey and Joey playing with some trains.
14. The cake we forgot to put out-- then forgot to snap a photo of until after we'd cut into it!
After the big welcome party, we hung around the house. My parents watched Casey and Joey while we all went out (gasp!) to a movie. I know-- can you believe it? Jason and I went to dinner on Friday night alone, too-- what a bonanza. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my kids. But some day they will be out of the house and it will be just me and Jason, and I'd hate to look at him and ask, "Uh. . . who are you again?" So I'm a big fan of grown-up, alone time. At the same time, I've become pretty militant about bedtime routines, which means finding a trustworthy babysitter to get both kids off to bed at our house. So when my parents came to town, we jumped at the chance for some alone time. We joked that our whole married life, we have takled about children. First, about wanting them-- and how we'd make that happen, then about the adoption, then about Casey growing up, then about the adoption and Casey growing up. Now about Casey and Marcie. Strange how that works. We saw The Departed on Saturday night. Totally worth the overpriced movie tickets. Great cast. Interesting plot.
Then, on Sunday we met up with Bryan, Tram and Joey for lunch and took the boys to Red Robin at the mall. They got to run around before we ate. Marcie enjoyed the attention from her Aunt Tram during lunch. She gobbled up her baby food, then kept right on eating the grown up food with the rest of us! What a trooper.
So that about sums up the weekend. There is more to tell, of course-- what with Casey being home from school since FRIDAY. But that will have to wait for another post because Marcie is hungry.
Marcie's Baptism
Marcie was baptized on Saturday, October 21st at St. Gregory the Great Catholic Church here in San Diego. Deacon Ron did a fantastic job in a beautiful, private ceremony. Casey ran around the church, yelling to hear the echo of his voice, but it was hard to get mad at such a cute kid-- and it was just our family anyway. Marcie behaved well. She was a bit on the wiggly side, but that was okay. She is not a huge fan of having water poured over her head, even at bath time, so it was no suprise that she wasn't thrilled during the actual baptism portion of the ceremony.
I didn't really take any photos-- I did give my camera to someone to snap, and my sister in law Tram did video tape the whole ceremony, but I haven't looked at either. Instead, I downloaded my father in laws great pictures, and created a slideshow in Flickr. If you have never been to a Catholic baptism and would like to see what it's all about-- or if you have been to a Catholic baptism and you just want to see all the fun, click on any photo below to watch a slide show. The captions are below the photos!
I didn't really take any photos-- I did give my camera to someone to snap, and my sister in law Tram did video tape the whole ceremony, but I haven't looked at either. Instead, I downloaded my father in laws great pictures, and created a slideshow in Flickr. If you have never been to a Catholic baptism and would like to see what it's all about-- or if you have been to a Catholic baptism and you just want to see all the fun, click on any photo below to watch a slide show. The captions are below the photos!
Sorry these captions are here and not in the slide show-- that's one feature that seems to be lacking from Flickr-- but here they are:
1. Marcie before the ceremony, toddling around (while holding Mommy's hands, of course);
2. Marcie appearing anxious as she peers at onlookers;
3. Deacon Ron explains the importance of baptism and why we baptize children so young in the Catholic faith;
4. Marcie and Mommy pay attention to Deacon Ron;
5. Daddy and Marcie listen to Deacon Ron;
6. After trying to eat the book from which Deacon Ron was reading, Marcie decides to just stare at him;
7. Getting ready to pour the Holy Water over Marcie's head;
8. Pouring the Holy Water while blessing Marcie in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit;
9. Marcie loks a little mad- she's not a big fan of water being poured over her head;
10. Wiping Marcie's head to keep the water from dripping all over her;
11. Deacon Ron blesses Marcie with the Holy Oil;
12. Mommy and Daddy fix Marcie's button (Mommy thought they would do the HolyOil on the chest like they did with Casey, so unbuttoned the top button-- but Deacon Ron did it on her head!);
13. Aunt Jessica and Aunt Tiffany (Marcie's Godmothers) light the Baptism Candle; 14. Aunt Jess and Aunt Tiff listen as Deacon Ron explains that the candle light, like the Light of Christ, can be a beacon even in the darkest of times;
15. Marcie's Godmothers blow the Light of Christ in Marcie's direction;
16. Grandma S. hugging her grandkids-- plus her honorary grandchild, Casey's cousin Joey;
17. Grandma S. and Marcie;
18. Group photo of all those who attended the baptism;
19. Family photo with Deacon Ron (at least Jason is looking in the right place!);
20. Casey looking like he's ready to dive into the Baptismal Font (though he did manage to only use his pointer finger and to sign himself with a backwards cross each time he dipped his finger!);
21. Casey "performing" for us in the church, where he could hear his voice echo loudly;
22. Cousin Joey, Uncle Bryan, and Aunt Tram at the church-- Joey and Uncle Bryan even skipped soccer practice for the ceremony!
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