fitzlosophy

Thank Heaven for Little Girls

2012-01-12T17:47:00.001-08:00

Having a daughter inevitably brings memories of your own little-girlhood to the forefront. It's one of my favorite things about spending time with Gwendy- watching her experience things for the first time and remembering a time when the world was new and wonderfully confusing and crammed full of hidden delights and dilemmas.

Today I painted her little finger nails an iridescent blue (a shade she picked herself at the drugstore). When I was done carefully dabbing color on her minuscule nails and blowing on each one in turn, I watched her gesticulate and wave away invisible fog, showing off her hands to herself like a newly-engaged debutante with a 3 carat rock. I was struck hard by the memory of myself as a child, delighting so thoroughly in my own red fingernails. I kept noticing them-how adult and legitimate they seemed- and went about finding new things to do with them so I could admire how they looked in different poses. Here are red nails holding a dinner fork! Here are red nails flouncing a hanky! How wonderful to feel such delight in something so very simple...

And so tonight, at my girl's insistence, I painted my own nails for the first time in forever in that same blazing blue. And God, but I couldn't help but notice my hands all night- pouring in bubble bath, toweling off a squirmy toddler, tucking a blanket all the way up to her perfect little chin. And I took delight in this simple thing- having my girl and being a girl again with her.

Resolved:

2012-01-01T06:37:00.000-08:00

Instead of nebulous and unattainable goals for this year (Be kinder to myself!- what the f does that mean?), here are 10 completely do-able resolutions for the year to come:

1. Shred documents that have personal info on them as I come across them, rather than just putting them in the ever-growing Bag Of Papers Intended for Future Shredding, or BOPIFFS, for short.

2. Spend more time cuddling my dogs. It's not their fault I'm all "touched out" by the end of a day of kid wrangling. Of course I'd be more kindly inclined to them if Emmy could go more than three days without managing to remove a diaper from the trash and shred it to bits all over the rug...

3. Go to the dentist with consistency. Also, floss more. And also also, buy more floss instead of just keeping empty floss thing in medicine cabinet.

4. Throughly rinse out my recyclables rather than pass them under the faucet once regardless of amount of sticky gunge still stuck to insides.

5. Shave my legs with more frequency and more attention to detail, regardless of season.

6. Piggy-backing on #5, look at legs twice a week so as to avoid that queer feeling when you first put on shorts in the summer and it's like someone surgically grafted someone else's pale, chubby legs onto your torso whilst you were asleep.

7. Remember to bring non-disposable shopping bags to grocery store. I have enough disposable trash bags in my basement to melt them into a mold and make a usable kayak. I don't want to toss them, and yet have no use for them, so there you go.

8. Eat less sugar (currently I am on the Hummingbird Diet).

9. Go out for coffee/wine/whatever with friends without kids in tow at least once a month.

10. Never utter the phrase "I'm so tired!" Because really? Everyone is tired.

If I can hit 50% of these, I'll be in pretty good shape on my way to world dominance, I think. So, c'mon, 2012! Let's go!

A Perfect Storm

2011-10-04T12:49:00.001-07:00

I was all set to finally post a new blog all about my lovely charming kids with little sentimental bits about the things I hope to remember about them at this age blahdy blah and then this afternoon happened.

To preface, Gwen has been learning to use the potty, and in the grand toddler tradition has this irrational fear of pooping any place but her diaper. So I bought her a toy and hid it in the closet and told her she could have it once she pooped on the potty and blah blah, a week of moderate pee success but no poop and then...

Ok, please hit play on the song below while you read the rest. It really makes the story feel like it did in my head...

I am sitting on the couch in the living room with Wes in my lap when all of a sudden, Gwen, who'd been playing quietly a moment before starts going "AHH!! -grunt- AhhhHHH!!-grunt-AhhhHHHH!!" which I take to mean she is in the process of pooping her pants. So I put Wes down on the couch and run to scoop her up, trot to the potty, and pull down her pants and underwear all in one graceless movement as she starts a'poopin.

As the #2 lands both in the potty and in said underwear, I notice Wesley has chosen this moment to learn how to roll onto his side and is nearing the edge of the couch. So I leave a Gwen who is now alternately laughing and screaming (knowing she's gonna get her "poop toy" but also freaking about the whole poop-process) to reset Wesley on the couch.

I then grab Gwen who is finished and is trying to sit on the rug with her dirty butt and stuff her under my arm to take her with me to her bedroom to get wipes and new pants/underwear. I find said garments and then carry her back to the living room where what to my wondering eyes should appear but...

EMMY EATING THE POOP OUT OF THE POTTY!!!!! Oh. My. God.

I chase Emmy off (I think my exact words were

"OHMYGODNOOOOYOUARESOGROSSGETAWAAAYY!!!") and use the wipes to return the remaining poop to the potty. Wesley is now working on a front-to-feet roll forward so I retreive him and plop him in the bouncy. I race the potty back to the bathroom to dispose of its contents, et al.

Upon returning to the living room Gwen is still standing there with her pants around ankles so I then clean her up and get her dressed.

I proceed to catch Emmy and clean her mouth out with Crest Total Care Mouthwash, because WHAT THE HELL ELSE TO YOU USE TO CLEAN OUT THE MOUTH OF A PUG WHO JUST ATE FECES AND FREQUENTLY ENJOYS KISSING YOUR TODDLER ON THE MOUTH??!!??

And that was my life from approximately 2:18-2:24. Jealous? Yeah, you know you are. Welcome back, blog.

Our Ship Comes In

2011-07-24T10:49:00.000-07:00

And aboard it was a wee swarthy pirate named Wesley! Here's some pics of his birth and....aftermath? afterglow? I dunno.

We were admitted around 1pm on 7/9. I'd been having contractions 5 minutes apart since about 4am that weren't getting stronger so we decided to head in and get checked out.

Turns out I was in early labor, and the frequency of the contractions (which were 2 minutes apart by the time I was admitted) was due to dehydration. (S'riously, I don't know how I could have drank anymore. I was downing gallons of water each day and peeing like every 4 minutes) Dehydration made getting a viable IV in very...um....interesting. 8 sticks and a resident (2 very skilled nurses having been unable to get a vein) later, I had my saline drip. All my boo-boos:

After a few hours and slow dilating (only between 3 and 4cms by now), my OB decided to break my water. That made things much more....interesting, pain-wise:

There's a bit of a gap in photos here, as I had grown black bat wings and was ready to disembowel anyone bold enough to snap one. Here's where Mom and Gavin were truly awesome, being supportive and helpful and just getting me through it by any means necessary (including some ill-conceived comedy routines).

I opted for the epidural after about 5 hours of !crazy! pain only got me to 5 lousy centimeters dilation. Once the epi was done I was so giddy I could dance (ya know, but for the fact that my lower body was asleep). My contractions still hurt but were totally bearable and I felt so much more relaxed....Only 2 hours later I was at 10 cms and ready to rumble. My AMAZING OB suggested we try pushing, and about 15 minutes later...

Mom telling it on the mountain:

That Ashley can take a picture:

Aunt Joy the next day:

Our little man-child:

It was a truly wonderful, beautiful birth and I was so happy and honored to share it with Gavin, Mom, and Ashley. Thank you guys so much for your love and for being part of an unforgettable night. And Wesley, I love you so so so much and am so happy to have you here with us on dry land.

Americana

2011-07-05T05:43:00.001-07:00

Well, still pregnant with our boy Wes. But my wise husband suggested that instead of sitting around housebound staring at my belly we throw a BBQ for some of our awesome friends. It was quite simply a perfect 4th. You go, America!

The man in the above pic is a vegetarian, except on the off times when his girlfriend gets grass-fed family raised beef from her family's farm. And then all bets are off....

And to cap it all off, some benevolent soul lit fireworks practically in our backyard!

Stop and Smell the Roses

2011-06-07T19:58:00.000-07:00

My Joyful Mess

2011-05-16T05:02:00.000-07:00

For some reason on this cloudy morning I am struck by the happiness of my life. It is not anything resembling the life I would have constructed for myself 5 years ago if, like a director of a play, I could have manipulated the setting and costumes and characters, but I must say it is far richer and more lovely than anything done "on purpose"; only happy accidents end up this perfect.

I have a husband who understands me. Can I just stop at that for a moment- the crazy magic of one person in all the people really understanding you, and happening to have that person be your spouse? I have a daughter who is the physical manifestation of sunlight. I am surrounded by vibrant artistic friends who challenge and yet love me warts and all. And I have a family with whom I am cozy enough with to be myself- Bitchymyself, Vulnerablemyself, Reallymyself. Oh, and I have a son safe in my belly reminding me every 15 minutes or so with his barrel rolls and kicks that life itself is a blue-eyed miracle that we should just stand back and admire like slack-jawed tourists at the Grand Canyon.

My days are spent thinking about politics and art and the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and lofty future goals and how best to get oatmeal out of the carpet (let the dogs do it). I plan and soothe and clean and do funny dances and keep our little ship sailing in the right direction, and am so, so thankful for every minute of it. I fall into my bed each night thoroughly, happily exhausted.

So to sum up, life is good. Really, really good. Thank you God.

Photographic Proof:

The thing about New York Winter- you get New York Spring:

Found this art-installation in my window:

The artist was on hand to explain her work:

It is on-going:

By now, he is a crib-building expert:

Almost done w/ Kiddo's room:

Prospect Park en route to the zoo:

Sheeps!

Belly!

Cousins!

2011-04-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

April was a month of visitors for us. Gwen got to meet her Uncle Tim, Aunt Alex, and Cousin William for the very first time. And got to see Grandma and Grandpa, AND got to see (second cousins? Second Aunt?) Becky, Amanda and Lisa!

I would write a whole lovely wit-filled, anecdote-laden summary of the awesome month, but currently Baby Wes is causing me to have horrid acid reflux and hate my life. So I'll let the pictures tell the story:

Cousins meet for the first time and dance with glee:

Hugs!

Art!

Uncle Gavin's Superman costume!

Bath time pics! Useful for embarrassment in years to come...

New York Aquarium:

Momma and Gwen:

Happy Easter!

2011-04-25T12:05:00.001-07:00

We had a lovely holiday at our house! Missed Joy, who had to work, and of course our beloved West Coast Fam, who are waaay too far away, but still, a beautiful day. Gwen was a doll all day, and found Easter Egg hunting both fun and...well....kind of weird. I mean, how do you wrap your not quite 2 year old mind around the concept that some creature went around your yard laying neon colored eggs which you are meant to gather?

Gavin made the best Easter dinner I have ever had, and we had way too much dessert. So yeah, perfection. Oh, and tomorrow I'll put up some pics of the Fitzys trip out East!

Getting her basket on:

I know I'm biased, but...

Uncle Go-gee!

Gettin down to bidness:

Mom and Joey:

A Brave New Blog

2011-04-21T17:46:00.000-07:00

So, I bit the pricey bullet and got a laptop. Well, to be more accurate, I launched a 6 month campaign to the hubs, about how much work I could get done, how much easier life would be, etc., until he agreed that it would be a great and damn near necessary investment. And then I back-peddled about the money, hemmin' and hawin', until the tables were turned and it was him convincing me. Because in a perverse way, that's how I avoid buyer's remorse ("He MADE me get one!") Yes, I am demented. But I have a lovely new computer! Whee!!

So here's my hope: it will lead to blogging more. Because really, the main reason I don't currently find time to fire off my deep, meaningful missives is simply because by the time I get Gwen to bed, dinner wrapped up, the house cleaned, work-related loose ends snipped off or tied up, the only thing I want is to lounge on my couch and stare into the abyss. Or stare at RuPaul's Drag Race. Sitting on the Purgatorial plastic Ikea office chair at the computer in my makeshift office/guest room does not sound at all appealing. Case in point, I am currently ensconced on aforementioned couch, a cheese danish resting on the arm, a pug snoring at my leg, and typing away.

And why would I like to resume blogging? Because I like to write, and I read once that you should try to write a little every day. While I can't reasonably hope for that, once a week would beat the pants off of the current status quo.

So there you have it. I will try to get some pics and pregnancy status update slapped up here in the very near future. Now don't get all excited and run your cars off the road or nothin.

Little Match-Blog

2011-02-18T17:12:00.000-08:00

Cause it's like that Hans Christian Anderson Story? With the little girl selling matches in the cold? And no one cares about her? And she freezes to death and you're like "Thanks, Mr. Anderson. Now I want to shoot myself."? Oh how my blog has been neglected...

Sweet Georgia Brown, where does the time get to? I looked up and lo, I had missed entire seasons in keeping up with this thang. And that's kind of unforgivable, not because my adoring public gives a tin pooh about it, but because I hope to use this as a kind of record for myself and my family. And it's not like things haven't been happening in this ole' life of mine.

First and foremost, I am SO pregnant. I am relatively sure that the only people reading this are my nears and dears and so that is no revelation. I am about 5 months in with a boy, who's gorgeous face I saw for myself on a crazy 3d ultrasound today (why some places call it 4d, I'll never know. Until I'm wearing special glasses that make me feel like I'm in my own womb, I think 3d will suffice).

I am so happy to have the last piece of our little family puzzle falling into place. Cause, yeah kids, I think we're done after this. I love babies, especially my babies, but economically I think 2 will fit just right.

The naming process this time has been a beotch. With Gwendolyn I hit upon her name before I even knew what flavor we were getting and it just stuck. With this little chap we've run the gauntlet and still not 100% on any one name. And no, please don't phone in your suggestions. I promise you that unless you've spent the last 3 years in Kenya working with indigenous peoples we have heard the name you are thinking of and have either put it on the short list or discarded it outright. We have three baby-name books open on our coffee table as I write this, let alone the countless name websites, so yeah, the problem is not lack of choices. Gavin gives the final stamp on this one (as I got final say on Gwendy), and he is taking his job very seriously. With a boy it just seems harder- finding that name that's masculine but not macho, classic but not over-used, current but God forbid trendy. But we'll hit it. And this kid will know his parents sweated bullets over his handle, and so hopefully forgive us if he hates it.

And then there's our Gwen. God, she is simply wonderful. Just so smart and cheerful and funny and the cream in our coffee. I mean, yeah, there are days when she's a whiny ball of toddler-funk, but then she cracks up, or comes up with some crazy new word, or decides her favorite song is "Lookin' Out My Back Door" by CCR, and it's more than worth the work. Just the other night we were reading a book about a bunny named Nicholas. I pointed to him and asked, "What's his name, Gwendy?". "Ma-bo-gus!". Close enough for me.

So yeah, life is good. I miss being Pretty Pregnant Princess this time around- I did not appreciate how sweet it was just to kick back after work and absorb the silence and I have no such luxury this time around- but there is such a lovely rightness to the completion of our little family.

I am vowing to keep up with this blog, at the very least so that the man-cub doesn't end up in therapy bitching about how Mom was so much more into her pregnancy the first time round. That's me, alway prepared. Like a girl scout, sans cookies. Mmmmm.....now I want cookies.
Ok, pictures!

Zis Paint! It eez NO GOOD!

Hello, my name is Gavin. And I shovel this walkway, A LOT.

Get that camera out of my face, or so help me God...

Belly pics soon, I promise!

I solmenly swear...

2011-01-21T13:03:00.001-08:00

I will post on this sad, lonesome blog this week. I promise. Really.

Octoberfest

2010-11-08T11:37:00.001-08:00

Woah! Where'd October go? It was so incredibly full of all those bright little pieces that round out life- family visits, autumn leaves, pumpkin picking, laughter, tears, and pie. Way too much pie. In fact it was so full that this blog became Red Headed Step Blog, with nary an entry the whole time. But I'm hoping to get more diligent about posting. So you hopefully will no longer have to wait with baited breath followed by crushing disappointment for my next exciting blurb about life's doings. Lucky you.

On the Gwendy front, she is just growing in leaps and bounds in every way. She gets the occasional sentence mixed into her more usual spate of one-word commands (MILK! UP! MORE! AGAIN!). And there is no better greeting in the universe than her chirpy "Hi Momma!" every morning when I get her from her crib. She can pick out many animals and make their sounds, and is currently in love with Fire Trucks (Gire Gucks), guitar ('Tar) and that youtube video where the guy uses Kermit the Frog to lip synch to the song "Pressure".

Her grandpa and grandma came in from California and spoiled her shamelessly, as is their right. In addition to a mountain of lovely clothes she now owns a giant pink car she can ride in. We push her around the house in it as she honks the horn and waves "bye" to Percy and Emmy as they flee in terror. Driving Miss Gwendy.

Gav and I are gearing up for winter. My intrepid husband outfitted himself as though he were preparing for deep space and re-hung all the falling insulation in our attic in the hopes we wont get as well and truly raped by National Grid this year. Oh, the swear words that came from that attic. A sailor would blush, I tells ya. And I am happy and busy and so looking forward to the holidays. Bring on some turkey-bird.

So yeah, nothing crazy, but that be's life as of right this minute. Now here's a ridiculous slew of pictures. Happy Fall, Y'all!

We are big on sitting in wee chairs just made for us.

Freshly Tubbed

Indian Summer

How does she have hair like Mozart?

Getting caught rummaging in cabinets. Again.

Watching Yo Gabba Gabba with Best Good Friend Lulu.

I refurbished my own old Jingle Bear and gave him to her. She seems to lerv him as I did (and do).

Prospect Park

Happy Fitzys!

Coney Island

Oh yeah baby. Pumpkintown, 2010!

Lookin up at birds flying south:

Treak-er-treating in Park Slope w/ Lu and Co

To the victor goes the spoils:

Intense chess battles all week. Gav beat his dad for the First. Time. Ever!

A String Around My Finger

2010-09-27T17:11:00.001-07:00

This blog has become a way for me to remember things. Not only things to do with Gwendolyn, but small cross-sections of my life preserved in little mental slides for later perusal. So here are some things I'd like to remember from this past month:

Re: My Husband:
1. He is so incredibly supportive. He has worked the mid-shift (which he hates) and has spent every day off wrangling Gwen by himself at night so I could do a show. And he never complained once.

2. He always tears his shirts in the same place- in the back, slightly to the right, 3/4 of the way down. Science has yet to figure out how or why.

3. Makes me watch The Ultimate Fighter with him. But then he will watch Glee with me. So even-Steven, really.

Re: Gwendolyn
1. Her word for "squirrel" is "curl", her word for "fish" is "gish" and "belly-button" is "Bom bun-bun". "Chicken" is un-typable but sounds vaguely Chinese, sort of like "Jiangchan"

2.When a song comes on she really likes, she does not smile, but looks intense and shakes her hips and butt fervently.

3. When you are settling her down for bed she caresses your arm while you read to her, and reaches up to hold both your ear and her own.

4. Our current top three bedtime songs are "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", "You Are My Sunshine", and "Tomorrow" (the theme from Annie), followed closely by "Edelweiss" from Sound of Music and "With You" from Pippin. As one might suspect, lots of Musical Theatre...

5. She is OBSESSED with the Wonder Pets. Except she refers to them as "On Our Way", which is a lyric from the theme song. She sings this about 300 times a day, chanting "On Ah Way" over and over like she's an acolyte from the Temple of Doom. I. Hate. Wonder Pets.

6. When someone leaves, she crouches down and looks for them through the crack under the front door.

Re: Myself
1. I love theatre. I had no idea how much I missed it this past year or so until I did a show. Fun fun fun, and I actually feel re-charged rather than fatigued now that it's over.

2. I love my family. They selflessly stepped up to the plate so I never once in 6 weeks had to hire a babysitter. They gave up weekends, evenings, drove their butts off, and made it so I never had to worry about Gwen's well-being while rehearsing/performing, knowing she was with people who love her. Mom, Gavin, Joy, and Joey- Thank you, thank you, thank you.

3. I love life. October will bring some hard days. I can't prevent this and don't even want to. I miss my father every single day and can't help but remember where we were last year with a feeling of having been horribly cheated. But the amount of happiness that is crammed into this crazy life of mine is really an embarrassment of riches, and it helps knowing how happy this would have made Daddy. So...

4. I am thankful. Very, very thankful.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation- an essay by Gwendy Fitz

2010-09-22T10:44:00.001-07:00

What can I say about this summer? It was fun, but pretty uneventful...

I brushed up on my chess game...

And tried out some pretty unorthodox moves.

I was kind to my parents...

...and somehow grew to resemble both of them more and more!

A minor incident occurred when I was caught committing petty larceny in August...

I had to do some hard jail time with some pretty hardened characters.

Ultimately, we were released on good behaviour.

I explored nature:

And became a better listener.

I retained my sense of glamour at all times. Summer is no excuse to let yourself go.

I decided walking was better than crawling...

...And that making music is better than just listening to it.

Groooovy man.

I contemplated life's mysteries...

...And found solace in literature.

I worked on my relationships...

...And tried new cuisines:

I was physically active...

...And met some.....er....interesting people.

All in all, summer's denouement was lovely and full. I look forward to what fall has to offer!!

Time Flying

2010-08-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

OMG how has it been nearly a month since my last post? Well, I'll tell you how. I am busy. Ca-razy busy. But in the best possible ways: working more hours so making more $, running after an ever-more-mobile Gwendy, and in a show for the first time in forevers!

So yeah, the busy, but also the fun, fulfilling, rich life that makes me sink into bed each night with a contended sigh. I swear pictures this week, and hopefully a more detailed update when next I carve out a spare 15 minutes!

Of Fishes and Funnel Cakes

2010-07-27T20:22:00.000-07:00

We had a brief break in the humidity (HALLELUJAH!!) and took advantage of it by going to Coney Island for the day. We knew it was close to us, but woah!, it took us literally only 15 minutes from our doorstep by F train and you were smack in the middle of the Boardwalk, sun, beachy goodness, and the New York Aquarium. A kick-ass day ensued:

Our Beloved F:

The view from the Pier:

First Boardwalk Hot Dog!

Exploring the wonders of NY's own Sheapshead Bay at the Aquarium:

Jellyfish and Alien Baby!

And Bonus! Gwendy in the Sun Pictures! :)

Goofball:

The Night Watch

2010-07-22T19:48:00.000-07:00

When you first bring your baby home, it's a little like someone telling you, "Look, we are entrusting you with this fragile vase made by Jesus that contains the cure for cancer which happens to be molten Pegasus tears and can never be replicated. But we're sure you can handle it... ". Like, they just give you this 2 day old human, like a library book, and trust that things will be ok.

And part of you knows they will be. Part of you recognizes that mothers have been having babies since the dawn of time and is also pretty awestruck by the tremendous force of maternal instinct that has swept through you in the past days, making it impossible for harm to come to this baby while breath was in your body (you figure out pretty fast, for example, that you will NOT roll over on the baby while napping- you just wont.).

But another part of you is, to be frank, scared shitless.

Which brings me to my point. During Gwen's first months, there would always be a moment (or five) when I would wake up in the middle of the night just to look at her sleeping in the bassinet next to our bed, to make sure she was still there and breathing and warm. I would lay my hand as lightly as a snowflake on her tiny, boney chest and feel the faint but steady rise and fall of it. And I would pray silently and fervently that I didn't screw anything up too badly.

A year later, I still sneak in for a quick peek at my girl. To be sure, it's a comedy of errors to get into her room- our house is at least 70 years old and it seems every single floorboard squeaks like it was rigged up in an old-Hollywood horror movie. I mince along the hallway on the balls of my feet, trying to find non-creaking patches of floor to tread on and finally slip through her door (which you must open very quickly to prevent additional squeaking). Then comes the gauntlet of crossing her bedroom floor, which makes the hallway seem like it was paved in feathers. Seriously, every step sounds like someone ripping apart a head of iceberg lettuce whilst eating a bag of Frittos.

But then I'm there, next to her white crib and she's my baby. And she's got her arms flung out all funny and one bare foot (with such funny long toes like my own in perfect miniature) out of the covers, and she smells like Johnson's Baby Shampoo and her own lovely baby-smell. And I lay my hand on her little back to feel that familiar rise and fall- not because I'm scared these days, but because it is an anchor in this very uncertain world; knowing that your child is safe and warm and so incredibly alive and spilling over with potential, and that for this brief window of time she's all yours to love.

I remember those nights when I would wake just enough to know my own mom was there, fixing covers and pulling books out of my bed. I remember smelling a whiff of her perfume and then back down to dreaming, secure in how utterly safe I was- that fleeting feeling of being completely parented.

And so now I am united with all parents somehow, as we make our rounds and guard our gifts, committing all these sounds and scents and breaths to memory for when they, rightly, leave us to sleep under their own roofs. And, perhaps, to start a night watch of their own.

In the Summertime

2010-07-09T18:39:00.001-07:00

Well let's see- we had a spectacular 4th of July. Went to Kevin and Joy's out in the Hamptons and took their new boat out for a spin in Sag Harbor. Aint we swanky? Gwen was not into going in the water (big bodies of water kind of wig her a bit) but loved being on the boat. And I got to jump in the ocean for the first time in like, forevers. And then BBQ and hangin' out and the Southampton Parade and all that good 4thof July stuff.

In other news, it has been as hot as first 8 circles of hell here as of late (isn't the ninth one where the devil is like freezing himself in place w/ his bat wings? Dante? Can you help me on this one? Oh, sorry, you've been dead for a really long time so no, I guess not). I honestly don't mind heat the way I mind cold, what with our little window ACs doing their bestest, but I am ready for this junk to be over. It makes me sleepy and depressed and that's no way to be when there's a Gwendy around, demanding games and snacks and "UP! UP! UP!".

My lovely inlaws took Gwen for some official-type portraits for her one-year birthday. Below are the lovely results, as well as some birthday highlights.

Elmo was introduced to make her smile. I should have known he'd become the center of her universe for the next half hour and she'd refuse to part with him...

"As God is my witness, I will never be without Elmo again!"

First thing she did when cake prop was introduced: rip that little "1" right off.

"Fools. I am surrounded by fools, and God help me, I like it."

And now, candids:

In her Queen Bee hat at her party, kersplashing in her water table.

I made the flower and bee cake and it was great. Until I cleft the pink petals in twain to serve them and they looked like cake-vaginas. True story.

The yellow center was all for Gwen. And she did love it.

Part of the photo series "Gwen Feeds Everyone Cake"

Reading "I Am A Bunny" with Grampa. A lot less dark than "I Am Legend", lemme tell ya.

My Birthday Girl

From June to June

2010-06-24T18:12:00.001-07:00

How is it that in a brief 365 days my little girl could go from this:

To this:

??? I don't know, but I stand in "adoring awe" of this child.

June is sort of our juggernaut month- Gwen's birthday, father's day, our wedding anniversary, and my birthday all fall within a couple of weeks of each other so I have been lax in blogging. I have a bizillion pictures to post from Gwen's first birthday party and Gramma and Grampa's trip out to New York to see her, but I just wanted to make sure I marked this momentous time in my mind (and on this blog!) while it's fresh.

So here is the world of Gwendolyn Joy in June of 2010. She surprises us every day now with new words, actions, abilities, and displays of affection. She started singing last week "Ahh Bahh...Emenemo" for the ABC song. She dances with an incredible rump-shaking movement she learned from only God knows where. She crawls up to you and demands "UP!" with an over-pronounced "P" sound so you know she means business. She pats Daddy's hair and gives Momma kisses and cuddles upon request (barring a bad mood, of course:). And, she ADORES this hairy freak :

beyond the telling of it and refers to him as "Eh-mo!" She can say Emmy's name and stroke her fur and giggles through Percy's sloppy kisses. She loves any source of water and happily splashes until pruney in the bath every night. In short, she is a person now, not just a baby, and it both exhilarates me and breaks some small part of my heart as I feel her hurtle ever onward towards needing me less. And that is being a parent, and by God, it's pretty damn awesome.

King of the Hill, Top of the Heap

2010-05-26T19:48:00.000-07:00

When you are a momma, you get to hear your child fling forth adorable attempts at English (ducks, books and socks are all "Gocks!" right now), and see their cute little dimpled bums after they've had a bath, and sniff that incredible, rejuvenating scent that lingers in their hair. You get to hear them sigh in happiness when you pick them up at night, and sometimes they just gently stroke you arm as if to say "You are a really, really great person. And I heart you."
In return for all of this, however, you have to cart around a staggering amount of crap to go anywhere and do anything.
Case in point. If I want to get on the subway (which I have to do if I want to be anywhere other than home, Shoprite, or the cemetery next door), I have to bring at minimum the dipes, wipes, snacks, paci, toys, sunhat, and also a 20 lb child in a stroller in addition to whatever I might want to have for like, myself. Ya know, like money and ID and lipstick. And I have to somehow get these things up and down at least 5 flights of steps, depending on which station I'm headed to.
And lemme tell you, it makes you pretty mercenary about choosing just how badly you need to go out. The bookstore in Park Slope? Not really worth it, unless you toss in meet-up w/ Ash and Lu in the play ground and lunch at Smiling Pizza . Manhattan? Nothing doing unless I have my big strong hubs to help with the stroller, or there's some REALLY cool thing going on.
But sometimes we must go out, and so this week, on a muggy day, I decide to venture into Park Slope to pick up my paycheck. Gwen and I walked (well I walked, she was pushed in her sedan chair like Cleopatra) to the F train station and I huffed and puffed up the first ginormous flight of stairs, hearing the train approaching. Of course my Metrocard took it upon itself at this moment to find the deepest, darkest part of my purse and set up housekeeping there, so by the time I got through the gate, I was already missing said train. And out of no where, this nice youngish man says "Can I help you?". I was just desperate enough to say "Yes. Please." and he grabbed one end of my stroller and got us up the stairs to the platform, missing his own train in the process. I thanked him profusely and he brushed it off and went on his way.
I got on the next train, and got ready to do my transfer at 4th Ave, which involves, I'm not even kidding, 5 flights of stairs into the bowels of Brooklyn. And lo, a teenage girl, surrounded by her gum smacking friends, offered to help me get the stroller downstairs!! I only let her do one flight, cause the whole enchilada would have been a serious commitment and I doubt she knew what she had bitten off, but...just... WOW! And this day is just one of many where I have witnessed small kindnesses being casually passed around New York like lunch menu fliers.
My point (if there is one. I sometimes don't know and I'm the one writing this crap) is that New York of all places besides, say, Kabul, has this reputation for people being rude and completely disinterested in their fellow man. I am here to tell you that is bull. Yes, we have our jerks. And maybe even more of them than the average city- I mean, you try living on top of each other the way we do and see how sweet you are all the time. But there also exists a richness of spirit I have found lacking in some of the other cities I called home. This is the city mind you, where a man literally layed his body over that of a stranger to keep him from being hit by the subway a few years back, and only this week had a man who didn't even stick around to take any credit push another stranger out of the way of an oncoming train (seriously, can everyone please stop falling in front of the subway??). It's a city that is fierce in it's loves and hates, and sometimes that comes off as kind of rough and brash, but really it's just bald-faced honesty. And I really, really freaking love that. So thanks New York. I am glad I came back to you.

And now, pictures.
Ok. I know she's mine and all but God help me, I think she hung the moon.

A Cockeyed Optimist

2010-05-12T20:41:00.000-07:00

The emotional see-saw that I have been on lately must have had something to do w/ my hormones as breastfeeding begins to taper off (we are down to only 3 or 4 feedings a day) and my body gets back to being...well, my own again, I guess. In the past few of weeks a fog of melancholia had settled about me like a musty grey shawl.
And then, like someone opening a window, things just started getting better this week. I attribute this to the following:

1. A quartet of guys got on the subway with us last week and harmonized beautifully to "The Lion Sleeps Tonite" as Gwendy and Lulu beamed on.

2. I saw three pre-teen girls in private school uniforms help an old lady carry her rolly-cart up the subway steps.

3. This rose has been blooming it's fool head off in my yard all week and there are buds all around it to indicate this will be a common occurrence this summer: (Please excuse badly framed photo as was holding baby whilst taking picture and attempting to keep said baby from nomming camera)

4. Gwendy has (finally!) begun to crawl, in an adorable awkwardly thumping manner that has me laying all kinds of "bait" (cell phones, jewelry, mail) to entice her to move towards it and make me laugh.

5. I had my very first mother's day.

6. I got a few ideas for a new play. I think I will try my hand at writing it whenever I get two minutes to rub together.

7. And finally, this is my husband:

(yes, those are "fangs" made of chicken bones)

8: And this is my daughter:

Procrastination Sensations

2010-04-29T07:02:00.000-07:00

I have a boring task to get back to for work, but I need a break, so I figured I'd update as to the doings of my wild glamorous life.
Let's see...
1. Shock of the year- a child of mine is more verbal than physical. Gwendy is still not crawling- or more accurately, not crawling with any measure of success. She occasionally gets into crawl stance, but then only manages to go backwards to her eternal chagrin. She is, however, incredibly vocal. Only this week she added "Hi!", "Up", and "This" to her vocab. She is delighted with both dogs, and summons them to her by slapping the couch and shouting "EH!!" She has also figured out how to sit up from a lying down position, but not how to get back down, so every once in a while I'm called to her room in the middle of the night to find her sitting there in the dark like an adorable gargoyle.

2. This summer is shaping up to be pretty awesome. Gavin and I celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary in June, as well as Gwen's first b-day! His folks are coming from Cali for the big party- can't wait to see them. Plus these a Lake George trip planned with the fam in August, and lots of nice little weekends with Joy on the beach out East. I LOVE East Coast Summer!!

3. Surreal moment- thinking about what to do for my mom for mother's day, and then going "Hey- holy crap. I am a mom too!".

4. And finally, something to ponder. I live in a very Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. The women dress 'modestly', in black skirts, etc. and the men rock the big hats/long coats/prayer shawl look. But something that I noticed a few months ago- the women all wear wigs. I couldn't fathom it. Well, turns out it's from the whole "married women have to cover their hair" modesty /"your hair is only for your husband" thing. But like, they are covering their hair with fake hair. That would be like covering your cleavage with a shirt depicting cleavage. Anywho, it's apparently a HUGE industry in these parts. Some of these wigs cost thousands of dollars. Color me intrigued/baffled. And now, photos:

She was so squirmy Easter, this is one of the few pics I got..

They really are BFFs...

SOOO tired at Kyle's B-day party...

The More Things Change...

2010-04-15T16:41:00.000-07:00

I don't get to read as much as I'd like, but I have some time on the train and right before bed. I try to get at least one "Classic I Should Have Read By Now But Haven't" in per month, with a couple of fluffier not-s0-intense books in between. I did The Great Gatsby last month (and LOVED it, BTW). This month is Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. I just began it this morning, and this chapter, chapter 5, jumped out off the page at me. Beautiful, horrible. And so incredibly timely. Here's part of it for you to read, if you like.

(**NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS BY JOHN STEINBECK (duh), and in no way am I intending to give the impression I wrote this. If I wrote this well, I would have long since flown away on a jewel-encrusted pegasus to my chocolate covered mansion in the sky. )

The Grapes Of Wrath, Ch. 5:
"The owners of the land came onto the land, or more often a spokesman for the owners came. They came in closed cars, and they felt the dry earth with their fingers, and sometimes they drove big earth augers into the ground for soil tests. The tenants, from their sun-beaten dooryards, watched uneasily when the closed cars drove along the fields. And at last the owner men drove into the dooryards and sat in their cars to talk out of the windows. The tenant men stood beside the cars for awhile, and then squatted on their hams and found sticks with which to mark the dust.

In the open doors the women stood looking out, and behind them the children—cornheaded children, with wide eyes, one bare foot on top of the other bare foot, and the toes working. The women and the children watched their men talking to the owner men. They were silent.

Some of the owner men were kind because they hated what they had to do, and some of them were angry because they hated to be cruel, and some of them were cold because they had long ago found that one could not be an owner unless one were cold. And all of them were caught in something larger than themselves. Some of them hated the mathematics that drove them, and some were afraid, and some worshipped the mathematics because it provided a refuge from thought and from feeling. If a bank or a finance company owned the land, the owner man said, The Bank—or the Company— needs—wants—insists—must have—as though the Bank or the Company were a monster, with thought and feeling, which had ensnared them. These last would take no responsibility for the banks or the companies because they were men and slaves, while the banks were machines and masters all at the same time. Some of the owner men were a little proud to be slaves to such cold and powerful masters. The owner men sat in the cars and explained. "You know the land is poor. You've scrabbled at it long enough, God knows."

The squatting tenant men nodded and wondered and drew figures in the dust, and yes, they knew, God knows. If the dust only wouldn't fly. If the top would only stay on the soil, it might not be so bad.

The owner men went on leading to their point: "You know the land's getting poorer. You know what cotton does to the land; robs it, sucks all the blood out of it." The squatters nodded—they knew, God knew. If they could only rotate the crops they might pump blood back into the land.

Well, it's too late. And the owner men explained the workings and the thinkings of the monster that was stronger than they were. "A man can hold land if he can just eat and pay taxes; he can do that."

"Yes, he can do that until his crops fail one day and he has to borrow money from the bank.”

“But—you see, a bank or a company can't do that, because those creatures don't breathe air, don't cat side-meat. They breathe profits; they eat the interest on money. If they don't get it, they die the way you die without air, without side-meat. It is a sad thing, but it is so. It is just so."

The squatting men raised their eyes to understand. "Can't we just hang on? Maybe the next year will be a good year. God knows how much cotton next year. And with all the wars—God knows what price cotton will bring. Don't they make explosives out of cotton? And uniforms? Get enough wars and cotton’ll hit the ceiling. Next year, maybe." They looked up questioningly.

"We can't depend on it. The bank—the monster has to have profits all the time. It can't wait. It'll die. No, taxes go on. When the monster stops growing, it dies. It can't stay one size."

Soft fingers began to tap the sill of the car window, and hard fingers tightened on the restless drawing sticks. In the doorways of the sun-beaten tenant houses, women sighed and then shifted feet so that the one that had been down was now on top, and the toes working. Dogs came sniffing near the owner cars and wetted on all four tires one after another. And chickens lay in the sunny dust and fluffed their feathers to get the cleansing dust down to the skin. In the little sties the pigs grunted inquiringly over the muddy remnants of the slops.

The squatting men looked down again. "What do you want us to do? We can't take less share of the crop—we're half starved now. The kids are hungry all the time. We got no clothes, torn an' ragged. If all the neighbors weren't the same, we'd he ashamed to go to meeting."

And at last the owner men came to the point. "The tenant system won't work, any more. One man on a tractor can take the place of twelve or fourteen families. Pay him a wage and take all the crop. We have to do it. We don't like to do it. But the monster's sick. Something's happened to the monster."

"But you'll kill the land with cotton."

"We know. We’ve got to take the cotton quick before the land dies. Then we’ll sell the land. Lots of families in the East would like to own a piece of land."

The tenant men looked up alarmed. "But what’ll happen to us? How’ll we eat?"

"You’ll have to get off the land. The plows’ll go through the dooryard."

And now the squatting men stood up angrily. "Grampa took up the land, and he had to kill the Indians and drive them away. And Pa was born here, and he killed weeds and snakes. Then a bad year came and he had to borrow a little money. An’ we was born here. There in the door—our children born here. And Pa had to borrow money. The bank owned the land then, but we stayed and we got a little bit of what we raised."

"We know that—all that. It’s not us, it’s the bank. A bank isn’t like a man. Or an owner with fifty thousand acres, he isn’t like a man either. That’s the monster."

"Sure," cried the tenant men, "but it’s our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. Even if it’s no good, it’s still ours. That’s what makes it ours—being born on it, working it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it."

"We’re sorry. It’s not us. It’s the monster. The bank isn’t like a man."

"Yes, but the bank is only made of men."

"No, you’re wrong there—quite wrong there. The bank is something else than men. It happens that every man in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it. The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It’s the monster. Men made it, but they can’t control it."

The tenants cried, "Grampa killed Indians, Pa killed snakes for the land. Maybe we can kill banks—they're worse than Indians and snakes. Maybe we got to fight to keep our land, like Pa and Granpa did."

And now the owner men grew angry. "You’ll have to go."

"But it's ours," the tenant men cried. "We—"

"No. The bank, the monster owns it. You'll have to go."

"We'll get our guns, like Granpa when the Indians came. What then?"

"Well—first the sheriff, and then the troops. You'll be stealing if you try to stay, you'll be murderers if you kill to stay. The monster isn't men, but it can make men do what it wants."

"But if we go, where'll we go? How'll we go? We got no money."

"We're sorry," said the owner men. "The bank, the fifty-thousand-acre owner can't be responsible. You're on land that isn't yours. Once over the line maybe you can pick cotton in the fall. Maybe you can go on relief. Why don't you go on west to California? There's work there, and it never gets cold. Why, you can reach out anywhere and pick an orange. Why, there's always some kind of crop to work in. Why don't you go there?" And the owner men started their cars and rolled away.

The tenant men squatted down on their hams again to mark the dust with a stick, to figure, to wonder. Their sun- burned faces were dark, and their sun-whipped eyes were light. The women moved cautiously out of the doorways toward their men, and the children crept behind the women, cautiously, ready to run. The bigger boys squatted beside their fathers, because that made them men. After a time the women asked, What did he want?

And the men looked up for a second, and the smolder of pain was in their eyes. "We got to get off. A. tractor and a superintendent. Like factories."

Where'll we go? the women asked.

"We don't know. We don't know.""

A Short Story, told With Photos...

2010-04-02T18:17:00.000-07:00

OMG- I just got invited to a really exclusive party in Tribeca...but what do I have to wear that's cool enough?? It's got to be awesome- all the hippest, richest babies will be there!!

Ok, well, I'll just look in the phone book under "cool clothes"....ok..."clergy", "cooking", "copy machines"....

There's no "cool clothes" in here anywhere! See, this is why I need an Iphone!!

Oh!!! but I have those awesome outfits Gramma sent me in the mail!! YES!!

Tre chic, non?

...Just re-read invite...says 'formal attire only'....*sigh*....

Aw screw it, I'll just go nekkid!

Oooh, but....is that over-the-top??? I mean, what is the statement I'm making here??

I've got it!! I'll wear my tutu! Very Sarah Jessica Parker!

OMG, I am going to be the talk of this party!!

Lemme just fluff this thing up a bit...get it really poofy...

Yeah, yeah....this could totally work...

Hmm...But is it too Sarah Jessica Parker....

...and by so blatantly referencing pop culture do I risk looking gauche and/or like a victim of TV indoctrination...

Crap. This is SO NOT WORKING....

What am I going to do?? The party is in like an hour!!!

Forget this. I'm just gonna eat cookies on the couch!

....despair....even Elmo can't cheer me up...

....life is a black hole of sadness....

EMMY?!!

WHAT?? "Those people aren't fit to lick my feet?" What do you mean Emmy?

Aw Emmy, you're the best. And you're totally right. Why should I let some lame-o hipsters define me??

Man, I feel like a new woman. Forget that stupid snobby party. I think I'm gonna relax in a nice hot tub.

I march to the beat of my own drum. I revel in my individuality!

I am a centered, zen-like person.

But seriously...what am I gonna wear to that gallery opening next week?...

Please Read this Blog Using an Irish Accent in Your Mind...

2010-03-22T16:35:00.000-07:00

...Because it's all about St. Patrick's day! It turns out, some dude drove some snakes somewheres, so we get to go to the city dressed in green and see our relatives and have a nice pint of Guinness and eat Corned Beef. Which is Jewish, but ok. Besides some issues about ending up on the wrong side of town, and Gavin having a decent case of Pink Eye, it was an alltogether perfect day. As evidenced by the many photos here:

The ladies in green:

Waiting for the F train with Joy and Kristen (and strollers full of babies):

Cousins Erin and Meghan. Those are their names year-round, not just on Paddy's day..

We made it just in time to see Uncle Andrew march with the firemen:

Gwen and cousin Sean, perusing the lunch menu:

Uncle Andy:

"No thank you, I only like my Guinness warm, like they serve it in the auld country."

Stopped in to see Nana at work. She wore no green, so Gwen pinched her. And then watched Elmo videos in her office:

Granola bar on the train home keeps everyone happy:

Somedays, ya gotta dance!

2010-03-13T20:15:00.000-08:00

Here's Our Gwen at just shy of the 9 month mark, doing what she does best: embodying joy!

And, because I know a few grandparent-types that read this and like to see footage of Gwendy "in the wild", here's the unedited version of the same stuff, complete with Gwen's babbles and all that jazz.

What Do You Mean He Don't Eat No MEAT?

2010-03-05T18:42:00.000-08:00

So yeah, the Mr. and I are trying to be what I shall hereafter term "loose vegetarians". We came to this decision mutually a couple of weeks ago, and so far, it's sticking.

Why, you ask? Or maybe you don't ask, but s'long as you're here, you get to find out. See, I lerv animals. But I also am a firm believer in the edible nature of cattle. Like, name me a part of a cow that isn't useful and/or tasty, right? So as long as that cow is pretty well taken care of, and not pumped full of antibiotics and hormones, and killed in a "humane" way, I am OK, morally, with eating his juicy self. Problem- We cannot afford this sort of meat on a regular basis (in case you didn't know, it's crazy-pricey). So we end up with the mistreated, chemical-laden, rather tastless variety most of the time.

But Fitzhusband is a bit of a foodie, and heretofore there was no way he would even consider going meatless. I had kicked around the idea of doing the veg thing for years, but I aint cooking two of every meal, or asking him to. So when he came home the other day and told me of a friend at work who'd been rocking the veg for a few weeks and how interesting it sounded, I eagerly suggested we try it out, and he was down like a clown from Chinatown. With a frown. Colored brown. With Jughead's crown. OK, sorry.

So, lo, there began "Loose Vegetarianism". Rules: Gavin and I generally eat no meat products. We do dairy and eggs, and occasionally seafood. But no chickens or pigs or cows unless it's A: A Special Occasion and/or we B: Can get the Good Stuff (grass-fed la-di-dah meat from the Whole Foods). By not buying craptacular meat, we can afford to get better, largely organic produce and dairy. (*Note: Gwen gets meat in some of her jarred babyfoods, which are organic. The rest of the time she eats what we eat).

The only other rule is that we in no way attempt to "re-create" meat. Like, no gluteny weirdo ersatz meat-crumbles or tofu that's been manipulated to look like bacon or any of that crap. Philosophically, we both feel that no one is fooled by such products, and we would be better off just making vegetables taste so good you never miss the meat at all. Also, these products generally look and taste like something you made in your Play-doh Fun with Food Kitchen:VS

I mean, really people. Tofurkey? You ought to be ashamed.

For the past two weeks I have been re-vamping my normally meaty recipes to go veg, and adding some new ones, with really excellent results. I have done a veg chili (no-brainer, just didn't add the ground turkey which was never something to write home about anyway), a lentil/chard/sweet potato soup (that was out of this frickin world), stuffed peppers, and portabello/roast garlic lasagna. I mean, really, I've been putting more thought into my meals to the point where the taste has actually improved; I haven't missed meat even a little bit. Plus, since we are not rigid about the whole thing, it doesn't seem all onerous and dreadful. If it works out, cool. If not, it sure was interesting.

We did cheat once, though. And if you can believe it, it was to have one of those 50 cent hot dogs at Ikea. I know? Like, how can I be concerned about food additives and eat the equivalent of Chernobyl on a bun? I'll tell you how. With ketchup, mustard, and kraut.

Born in a Merry Hour

2010-03-03T10:09:00.000-08:00

Rainy Day at Home

2010-02-24T06:53:00.000-08:00

Breakfast With Gwendy!

2010-02-20T07:52:00.000-08:00

8 Months of Gwendy!

2010-02-17T19:43:00.000-08:00

Can you believe it? Gwen officially turned 8 months old yesterday!!
This past month has been crazy-busy for our gal Gwen. I will make a list:

Events: A much needed visit from Gramma all the way from California! Also, Aunt Joy's Birthday party and her first Valentine's Day.

Physical Stuff: She cut her first tooth this week, after months of drooling and anticipation. Still no crawling, and nothing that appears to resemble a desire to crawl. She mostly likes to sit in someones lap or on the floor, playing, and so far doesn't feel the need to locomote. Fine by Momma! Oh, and now we have baths in the sink, w/ out the baby tub. She has sprouted lots more blondy-brown hairs too.

Food: She is up to three meals of solids per day, along with breastfeeding.

Sleep: Pretty much sleeping through the night (though we still nurse once before I go to bed and then again at around 5 am). Learning to find the paci in bed for herself (and the fact that there are like 10 of them in her crib) helped a lot.

Words: She says "Mama!" now to me instead of babbling "Mamamamama!" like she used to. Sometimes she throws out an "Eh!" which we think means "Emmy!". Daddy kind of feels like chopped liver since the dog appears to have gotten a mention before him, but what can you do? "Eh" is easy to say, and plus, she licks Gwen's face and fingers, which never fails to crack her up.

Love:
There are not words. She is our sun in the morning and our moon at night. I feel so incredibly privileged God picked us for her parents, and each day is a new amazing adventure. And now, some pics:

Her first Valentine, from Daddy:

Bath time with Gramma:

If kisses had calories, I'd be on that TLC show about the Half Ton Mom...

When will I use this in life?

2010-02-06T17:38:00.000-08:00

Remember how you asked that question like a bizillion times when your were smart-assing out in high school? And the teacher would then have some vague example of how really, algebra is something you will be called upon to do in order to survive a trip to the grocery store? Yeah, well that was all a bunch of crap. I mean, I'm glad I learned what little I did of algebra, because it was difficult for me and it's good to discipline your mind in concepts that don't come naturally to it. It builds character, and increases your ability to think in new ways, which is always valuable, blah blah blah. But never once have I needed to find"X" while plodding thru my day-to-day world.

But you know what I have needed to know? How to do my taxes. And to budget myself. And save money. And how mortgages work. And not ONE of those things were even touched on in all my education. And that is just plain stupid.
My little brother, a very intelligent and worldly college-educated young man, told me today he has no earthly idea how to complete his tax return. Because why would he? No one ever taught him how.

Maybe it used to be the norm that parents taught you this kind of crap. But they don't anymore, at least not in my case, and in the cases of many of my peers. And even if they did, wouldn't that limit everyone to the financial status and standards of their parents? Wouldn't that keep the poor, poor? Doesn't that sort of fly in the face of that you-can-be-anything-you-want-to-be American ideal?

Ideas as basic as saving for a home, how mortgage rates work, how to correctly claim dependants on your W4s, and paying off the student loan debt most of us incur seem to me to be things that should be covered in say, a 'Life Economics' class in high school.
None of this stuff is rocket science. It's all stuff I myself have learned about under my own power, through both experience and research, and Lord knows, I am not mathematically or fiscally minded. But the unfortunate fact is that many people learn this kind of crap through their mistakes, rather than beginning their financial life informed and ready to rock and roll.

The ramifications of those personal financial mistakes are very clear, particularly today. In the aftermath of so many people taking out loans they couldn't afford and clearly didn't understand, thereby directly contributing to the near-collapse of the global economy, you'd think someone would be pushing for this kind of financial education, no? No. Politicians are too busy chastising the (very guilty) banking industry so that their constituents can see them looking morally outraged on their behalf.

Teaching our kids the basics in how to do well fiscally is an easy, straightforward, and implementable way to prevent them from making the mistakes that have resulted in so many Americans deep in debt, foreclosed on, and owing the IRS their firstborn children. So why doesn't it just happen?

Bits and Bites

2010-01-22T10:47:00.000-08:00

Here's life in brief flashes:
1. Started working w/ Mom in Parkslope. So far, it's a really good fit and lets me work around Gavin's schedule without needing someone to look after Her Highness, which is great. But man it's hard to walk out the door every day and leave that baby, even though it's with her loving Daddy.

2. My sister Joy's birthday is this weekend- she will turn the Dirty Thirty, and to celebrate, we are having a bowling/dinner party. Cause that's how we roll. Literally.

3. If the drain in your tub all-of-a-sudden clogs and leaves you with a foot of standing water, and two bottles of Draino does nothing, it may just be that you have the metal thingy in the "up" position, and you don't have a clog at all.

And now, photos:

Prodigy:

Cause she does:

With Kyle:

Already Gwen makes boys bow before her:

Someday Your Child May Cry, and If You Sing this Lullaby...

2010-01-14T17:48:00.001-08:00

Some days are harder than others, missing my Dad. Luckily, God gave Gwen Dad's smile, all brand new again. I can't tell you what a comfort it is to see it.

Here's both of them at around 6 months old:

It Takes a Village. Or at Least, One Very Tall Man.

2010-01-12T06:29:00.001-08:00

I love it when I am reminded of why I married my mister. (It's because he is an awesome, awesome man).
Case in point. He was riding home on the subway yesterday at rush hour. It was standing room only, and barely that, with people packed in like sardines. He heard this baby screaming- not crying, but just shrieking repeatedly in that way babies do when they find out they have voices and decide to practice with them. I know this sound well, and it kind of makes you want to shove a screwdriver in your ear when you are not on a crowded train, so I can imagine this atmosphere. He kept hearing this woman say "shhh....shhh" quietly to the baby, and noticed there was also a little boy of about 5, getting more and more keyed up and loud as well.

Then he saw the owner of said baby and boy stand up from the baby carriage where she was trying to hush the screamer. "Honey, she reminded me so much of you", said fitzhubby, as he related all this to me last night. "She just had that look of trying so hard and coming within two seconds of losing her shit- I have seen that exact look on your face at 3:30 in the morning!" (I chose not to take offense to this- I know what he meant). She was "white knuckling" the support bar of the train. So my hubby reached over and patted her arm and said "Hey. It's ok! Don't worry about us. It's fine. You're doing a great job." This poor girl looked over at him and just burst into tears. She actually hugged hubby (this is an NY subway, people) and was so grateful that someone simply understood. My hubs explained that we have a baby too, and that sometimes you just have to accept they will not be great in public and "set it free".

Meanwhile, when my husband said "Don't worry about us." some douche behind him actually snorted in disgust. Gav turned and gave a look over his shoulder but couldn't decide who the scoffer was so he didn't say anything. They chatted about parenthood, etc, and finally the chick's stop came up. Gav told her little boy to help his mom with the groceries and get his coat on- the kid listened way more when it was a male stranger telling him what to do, and in my experience small boys love to be put in the capacity of "helper" rather than "additional child driving me crazy".

So as the chick is trying to get her children and groceries and stroller off the train before the doors close, this guy, mid-fourties in an expensive suit with his briefcase and coat on the floor of the subway, nose buried in a Kindle (a very likely candidate for the aforementioned scoffer), is blocking her way, and either ignoring or not hearing the woman's "Excuse me, sir"s.

Here's where Gav raises his awesomeness to a whole new level. He said "Dude, can you move for the lady?" and when the guy actually ROLLED HIS EYES(!!) Gav took his foot and nonchalantly swept the guys stuff to one side. He helped the lady get off the train, and as she was going, said to her little boy "See, there's two ways you can be. Don't grow up to be like that guy!". And off they went.

As he turned back to the train, douchey actually says "No one talks to me that way!" Gav says "I just did. If you want to further discuss it, I get off at the next stop." Whereupon douchey was suddenly back in his Kindle (seriously, how do you pull out the "No one talks to me that way" and then back down?? Perhaps he was just voicing an obeservation...). On his way off the train, hubby's parting words were- "Well, we're at my stop. You coming?" to which there was no response, predictably.

Now, I know, this was all a little over the top, and likely a direct result of Gavin being a new dad and uber sensitive to the plight of new parents w/ loud babies in small places (can we say THREE cross country flights in 60 days??). But I have never been so proud that my husband is a good, good person, who isn't afraid to stand up for people who are at the end of their rope. Kudos, dear. And to his parents, who sometimes read this blog, you done good raising that boy. I can only hope I do as well with our kids.

Resolved

2010-01-01T18:32:00.001-08:00

So now for the traditional posting of New Year's resolutions!!

1.Get a handle on what I want to do career-wise. This is the biggy. I need to get focused and truly decide what I'd like to do for the next 30 years and then do it. Oh, if only someone would ring my bell like the Publisher's Clearing House crew and present me with a career in the arts that is fulfilling, flexible, and lucrative, while making a difference to disenfranchized youth and/or animals. Or, you know, they could just drop off the 10 Million dollar check. Either way.

2. Eat more vegetables. S'riously. I am all about carbos lately. I think it's the breastfeeding- once that's over and I'm not burning the extra calories if I keep on the way I've been I'll turn into a soft doughy ball. And then I'd want to eat myself, because of the aforementioned love of carbos.

3. Spend more time with my dogs. It's hard, with a Gwendy who demands so much attention. But I need more walks and cuddles with my fur-children. Even if sometimes I want to throttle Emmy with both hands, like tonight when she ate her kibbies too fast and then vomed it in six different puddles on my dining room carpet. Easy-to-clean kitchen floor? No vom. Light colored carpet? Vom City, USA.

That's all. I mean, there are more I'd like to add, like learn at least a little guitar or keyboard and become better organized and save money. But lets be reals- I have a lot on my plate right now, and three is a very manageable and realistic number of goals. So let's just see how I do with those and if by say March I am a vegetable eating, dog cuddling Acting Writing Director, I'll revise the list. K? K.

All is Calm, All is Bright

2009-12-26T18:54:00.000-08:00

To be frank, a big part of me dreaded this Christmas- my dad was so completely plugged into this holiday. First, tradition for as long as I can remember had us with him on Christmas Eve at a big family party where we'd exchange our gifts and eat too much and stay up too late. And then, since my Dad was never one to say no to fun whenever and wherever he could find it, he'd crash Mom's on Christmas Day, pulling up in his rusty truck with a wreath lashed to the bumper. It always amused all of us, my mom in particular, how it never even crossed his mind that his ex wife of more than 20 years would mind him turning up during the cake/coffee party of the evening. And the magic of it was we'd all end up having an awesome time, playing board games and laughing more than should be legally allowed.

And on top of the Christmas-specific memories associated with my Dad, New York in general seems haunted with him. When I was in LA, it was not abnormal to not see him- he didn't live in California. But now that I'm home, every tree and street corner and store front is fraught and festooned with my Dad- here's where he used to get his bagels, here's where he got into a fight over a parking space with some lady, here's where he took me to learn how to drive and on and on and on. So reality has been creeping in. And Christmas seemed like just one more giant reminder that he's not here.

But then there's this lovely symmetry. As my Dad leaves us, Gwen enters. And somehow, seeing all her firsts takes some of the sting out of the things that were his last. Whenever I found myself foundering these past few days, I was able to find an anchor in that little elfin face with its chubby cheeks and oddly wise smile.

And so Christmas somehow managed to be Christmas, and I was able, after all, to count my blessings and look to the new year with anticipation and hope.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Thanks for being you.

Pics!
Meeting the Big Red Dude:

Many generations of children have posed on these steps!

With Uncle Joe:

Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care...

2009-12-18T16:05:00.000-08:00

At the risk of jinxing it, a miracle has happened. And that miracle is my baby has decided for the first time in about 3 months to sleep for more than 2 hours, consecutively. Seriously, folks, at one point this kid woke up every hour on the hour ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I don't know if you've ever been truly sleep deprived, my friends, but add to it the grieving process, and woah Nellie, that's some crappy headspace.

Most of her sleep issues began at about 3 1/2 months, when, not coincidentally, we were in New York while my dad was sick, and bouncing from house to house. So no duh, kids are sensitive creatures and all that drama and change manifested in a need for her to be comforted by me 10 times a night. I didn't begrudge her that- but I needed/need sleep to like, function. So yeah, this is a good- no, AMAZING- development that is the culmination of a lot of work on Gav's and my part, as well as being finally settled in one place.

Last night, I slept six straight hours. It was so uncannily wonderful I literally woke with a SMILE on my face for the 4:30 feeding.

Also, I love our little Brooklyn house. Love it love it love it. It's a temporary thing (my family will sell it eventually) but while it's mine I love every quirky nook and cranny. I even love the HIDEOUS gray and pink tiled bathroom with the fucia and green metallic wallpaper. (Seriously, I must post a pic this week for you.) I put up Christmas lights outside and a big tree and hung all our photos and it really feels like home after living out of a suitcase for 3 months.

This will be a hard holiday season for me- there's no getting past that fact. But with a little sleep under my belt, and this small oasis of normalcy we are living in, I know my little family will find some joy in it as well.

A day in the life...

2009-12-11T17:53:00.000-08:00

I have oodles to tell you of my own life, the move, etc. But I'd rather post a crapload of cute pictures since my energy is little to non-existent. So:

If Gwendy appeared in Vogue with one of those artsy "day in the life" photos shoots, it'd go something like this:

We have reached the necessary milestones to begin introducing solid foods. Here we are with organic sweet potatoes from the fine people at Gerber:

When we are thru dining, we find it most relaxing to soak in a nice hot bubble bath. Aunt Joy's kitchen sink is de rigeur for the ultimate in pampered luxury:

Our evenings are spend musing under the Christmas tree, deciding what we will ask Santa for. Will it be the Fisher Price crib Aquarium? A doll? A wad of wrapping paper to stuff in our mouth?? Who knows?

Ladies, if your velvet Christmas bonnet doesn't fit over your own ample noggin, don't fret- just outfit your dog. Lovely, non?

Finally, we simply bask in the glow of our own loveliness. Make sure you take time to bask in your own loveliness too!

Full Circle

2009-11-28T20:21:00.000-08:00

Back in New York, and here to stay. It's been a wild ride, America, but I daresay barring any major shifts in the sands of life (which I never, never count out, especially these days) I am home now. And I must say, once all the stress and pressure and madness ebbs, I think I'm going to be pretty damn happy to put down some roots here- or just graft onto my old ones... That's all- just wanted to post on the actual day Gwendy and I landed (Fitzhusband to follow via great exodus with dogs cross country this week. Thank God for his dad, who's coming with). Now, to tend to my jet-lagged baby!

The Perfect Baby

2009-11-21T18:54:00.001-08:00

Strange but true, my baby is utterly perfect. Yes, she wakes me up at ungodly hours every night, and she has incredibly stinky gas, but every time I look at her, my heart does cartwheels. My capacity to love her seems bottomless and helps me to understand all sorts of things I never got before about parents and children.
And every day she learns more and more. This week it's been all about the dogs- she sees them and gets this delighted expression on her face and chortles like a happy little squirrel. If one of them licks her fingers she cracks up to beat the band. It makes me happy to see my human-child and fur children so copacetic.
In other news, we are moving back to New York in only a few short days (!). Most everyone who reads this blog knows all about it, but suffice it to say it feels like an important time to be there as my family deals with Dad's passing. There are other reasons to go, of course, but that is the one most prominant in our minds at the moment.
It is breaking our hearts to leave our California family though. I layed awake for hours last night, struggling with the whole conundrum- one that's plagued us ever since we started dating. If only we could be in two places at once. Or, if only our families would decided to move to one central location- say, Hawaii?? :) A pretty lucky problem to have, though- having two such amazing families that you want to be with both...
Here's some fancy-dancer camera shots. I am getting slowly used to it and it's many ridiculous features. I think I have named her Charlotte, since she is black like a spider and friendly like the one from the book.

Self-medicating

2009-11-18T20:22:00.001-08:00

I went and got myself a present. This:

I'd been wanting a fancy-dancer camera for a year now and I just broke down and got myself one. I have barely begun to learn it, but man-oh-man, this thing takes a purty picture:

Fun! Also, in other news, Gwen has this new thing where she pulls her paci out of her own mouth and then complains loudly until I replace it. Over and over and over again. At THREE IN THE MORNING. This has inspired many comedic interludes between Gavin and I, as we fumble in the dark hissing at each other to please our little task master and get her back to bed. Most recently, this little vingnette, in reference to finding the Twilight Turtle Light, so I could see to find her lost paci:

-------

Me: "Where is the f#*&ing turtle??"

Gavin: "I don't know where the damn turtle is. NO!! Don't put the crib light on!! IT's TOO BRIGHT!" (fumbles with button on side of crib. Light remains on while music begins to play, loudly)

Me: "Well that's just perfect. Well done."

(Scene)

------

Seriously, it's like the Diary of Anne Frank in our room- all scrambling silently over ourselves and flinching when we make the slightest noise. You have no idea how loud your sheets rustle when you roll over, really. Whee!!!!

Shiver Me Timbers

2009-11-14T21:25:00.000-08:00

This song by Tom Waits has played incessantly in my head for the past two months. It hurts, but in a good way:

I'm leavin' my fam'ly
Leavin' my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines
On a new front page sky
My tears are salt water
And the moon's full and high

And I know Martin Eden's
Gonna be proud of me
And many before me
Who've been called by the sea
To be up in the crow's nest
Singin' my say
Shiver me Timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away

And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me, now.
So swallow me, don't follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
'n I'm gonna skip like a stone

So please call my missus
Gotta tell her not to cry
'Cause my goodbye is written
By the moon in the sky
Hey and nobody knows me
I can't fathom my stayin'
Shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away

And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me
So come and swallow me, follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
'n I'm gonna skip like a stone

And I'm leavin' my family
Leavin' all my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines
Upon a new front page sky
And shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away

Fall

2009-11-08T13:06:00.000-08:00

For those of you who don't know, my Dad passed on October 20th, the day after I last posted. Thank you again to all of my loved ones for your prayers and kind words- they go further than you will ever know.

I tried to write about this fall a few times, but I can't yet.

So instead here are more pictures of my Fall of 2009, which I spent in New York, enjoying my Dad and the rest of my family.
Gwendy meets cousin Sean on our first day out East:

And Uncle Joe:

Gwendy and Grumpa:

Gwen and Kyle's First Date:

One of our many walks:

Gwendy and her "G G":

Obligatory Nekked Baby pic:

Gwendy and Kyle's Second Date:

Aunt Kathy, Baby Whisperer:

At "Hank's Pumpkin Town" in her Halloween costume:

"I Hate Pumpkin Town."- G. Fitz

Bright Spots

2009-10-19T08:17:00.000-07:00

Thanks for being you, Gwendolyn. You are my sunlight right now.

Bluntly

2009-10-12T08:33:00.001-07:00

My dad has lung cancer, which has matastisized to his bones. His lungs are stage 3, bones stage 4. I am still in New York until I get a better idea of what the next few weeks hold. This is the most difficult experiance of my life to date, but my family and friends have been incredible. I will post an update when I know more, but I wanted to get the basic facts out there so I don't have to keep retelling the details. For those of you who pray, do so, please. I love you all, truly.

Update

2009-09-28T07:18:00.000-07:00

My dad is sick, so I'm in NY. We are awaiting results from some tests. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Love and miss you all.

Birth Story.

2009-09-13T13:13:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are interested in such things (all two of you), here is the story of Gwendolyn's birth. I will not be hurt if you don't want to read this- it's very long, and some of you are just not down with such things. I'm mostly just laying this down for my own benefit, before the memory fades and I start adding and subtracting details. I probably already have, but here goes.

Ok, so first things first. Don't read this if this sort of stuff squeems you out, ok? Cause I'm not going to edit myself. Birth is the most visceral, true thing I've ever experienced, and I'm not gonna cheapen it by calling things "who-has" and "whatsits" when I can just say "Cervix" and be done with it. K? Ok.

At 6am on June the 15th I was admitted to the hospital to be induced (you all remember how I was 10 days late, etc). I had done all the pre-admission paperwork weeks before so basically all I had to do was show up in the wee small hours with my bag and husband and sign some scarey waivers and away we went. Still, it was 7am by the time I was comfy in bed dressed in a lovely backless number with my spankin' new IV and ready to get some medication to kick our little ladybug out. They did an exam and lo and behold, I was still closed and not dilated save for the pathetic "fingertip" my doc had given me at my last visit. So meds would be needed not only for contraction starting, but to open the gateway, so to speak. See, I promised no euphemisms, and yet, there is one in the first paragraph. Oh well.

SO medication- they gave me this crap called Cytotec. I did not want Cytotec, because I had heard a myriad of ugly things about it on the interwebs, but I was bamboozled by a nurse into getting it anyway(ask me for details on that ridiculous story if you wanna. Suffice it to say, stick to your guns when it comes to your gut-instincts and medicine). I was told I'd need about 3 doses minimum to really do the trick w/ the Cytotec, so I was planning on a long day. Ha. Ha ha ha. Within one half hour of the first dose, I was in full labor with contractions coming 2 minutes apart. Let me repeat. I went from no contractions chillaxin in my bed watching the People's Court with Judge Marilyn Milian, to earth shattering contractions 2 minutes apart. Um, ouch.

I got up to use the bathroom and when I got back in and re-hooked up the fetal monitor, Gwendy's heart rate was all over the place- down to 50 and up to 200 and back down again. I thought I just had it on wrong and was calling the nurse when she, another nurse and a doctor came RUNNING IN and put me on my side and slapped on an oxygen mask and gave me a big shot of something. (!!!!) It turns out, labor that fast put our baby into a sort of "faint" and they needed to dose me with Terbuterol (sp?)to stall the labor. At this point I was crying and freaking out for my baby and also having super scarey tremors from the Terbuterol. My husband stepped up, like big time. He was so strong and soothing and didn't show any panic (which he admitted later he was totally feeling) and reasoned with me that they would do a C-section if anything was really wrong with Gwen and all in all got me calmed way down. Still, SOOO terribly scarey.

After this little episode, her heart rate stabilized and we were back on track, but the nurse informed me "No more Cytotec". Um, ya THINK?? I just.....GRRRRR.

So, anyways, they decided to see if labor would now progress on its own. And. it. did. Holy cow. Like, there are not words. Before going thru this, I would ask women who had kids to describe the nature of the pain of childbirth, and they would invariably say "It's like the worst cramp you've ever had". So I thought I knew what to expect. Except now I know that's like asking someone how it feels to have your jaw removed with some rusty pliers and having them say "It's like the worst tooth ache you've ever had". It may be true, but it just can't go far enough to really prep you. Labor hurts, a whole lot.

I labored womanfully sans meds for like 8 hours. I was still on the fence at this point as to whether to do the drugs, you see, and I was trying to hold out to see how progress went. My inlaws arrived during this dark time, which involved a lot of me moaning gutturally into Gavin's shoulder like an injured animal. And after all that they checked me and I was like 3 cms. So it was time to do some pitocin. The inlaws went to our house to deal with our dogs and chill out and wait.

BTW, while you are doing the hardest thing, ever, you are not allowed to eat at all, on the off-chance you might need to be knocked out and would potentially aspirate on your own food. And Gavin and his folks had burritos, like in my room. I got yelled at by the nurse for eating a lifesaver. Just saying.

By now, my drug-induced labor was kind of blowing my mind, and I knew it was going to get a whole lot worse before it was over what w/ the pitocin, so I asked about pain management options. I was told Stadol was a nice little narcotic that would just "take the edge off" and let me rest for about an hour. Yes, give me that. Now please.

Except once again, my body reacted to this drug about 7Xs more than it should have. I swear, if I were a super hero, I would be called Sevenfold, and my power would be an over-the-top reaction to everything, times 7. I'd wear seven costumes, and if someone slightly insulted me, I'd kill them in seven ways. Anywho, I was instantly euphoric and high as a freakin kite. Like seriously, best feeling EVER. I now know why drug addicts rock that party- it was AWESOME. The release from pain plus the high of the drug was maaaaagical. I started high-dialing all my friends and fam to let them know just how awesome it actually was, much to their amusement. And I knew one thing, I was not going back to pain-town again. Bring on the epidural.

Epidural doc showed up and he was this wee Asian man, and I was still all stoned and I called him my "boyfriend" and told him "Hey candyman! You have the best job! You like, remove pain! Yay you!". Ah yes, wife on drugs provided Gavin some much-needed comedy relief. My boyfriend got the epidural in- so weird, like Novocaine but spreading down your whole body. I could feel my legs still existed, but they felt heavy and asleep. And the high was fading, but no pain, so I was cool. The kick-ass nurse from the am shift was back on at this point, and she rawked. Bring on my first dose of pitocin. I am 6 cms, so we still have a 'ways to go'.

By now it was like 11 pm, and the nurse told me to get some rest. Except all I could do was listen obsessively to the fetal monitor while Gav snored in the chair next to my bed. And then, at like 12, I started hurting again, bad. WTF? I called the nurse and she gave me another hit of pain relief thru the epidural and then as a kind of afterthought, checked me again, just to be sure. "WOAH!" says she. Apparently in the half hour since she last checked me my body decided to kick it into gear and I was damn near fully dilated. "Call your mother-in-law back. Tell her to come, now". We woke up Gavin and told him the news. And then the nurse told me the news. I'd progressed so fast, there was no time to "get me comfortable" with more epidural. It was just going to hurt. Sorry, Charlie. BOOOOO!!!!!

Right about then, I felt the urge to push. No, urge is not the word. It was like all the force of nature and God and the cosmos surging into you and crystallizing into one simple, unavoidable imperative- "PUSH. PUSH. PUSH." Trying to ignore it would be like trying to kill yourself by holding your breath.

AH, and then! Insult to injury! Like my mother before me, as I hit this "transitional labor" I began to puke my ever loving guts out. "You have got to be FREAKIN' KIDDING ME!!! SERIOUSLY???" sez I, who have just about had it by now. Poor Gavin's job is to catch said puke in a tiny tray that reminds me of the cup from Wayne's World- very inadequate for the job.

Meanwhile, nurse Kris had broken out this ginormous plastic trough for underneath my bed, to catch God knows what. It's best we don't think too much about it. She broke my water (couldn't feel the fluid at all, so the epidural was at least partially in effect) to further things along even more.

By now, my mom-in-law MJ was there, with strict orders from me for "No pictures below the knee line" and my poor father in law was in a rocking chair outside the door, looking, he later told me, like "Some ole perv who likes to hang out and hear women scream or something" and we were ready for some "practice pushes". My bed did this nifty Transformers thing and half folded away and next thing I knew Gav and the nurse had my ankles and we were off to the races, pushing for a count of 10 each time.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank my pilates/yoga teacher from Case who made us get to know all our muscles "down there", cause I was like a CHAMPION pusher. I mean, not to toot my own pelvic floor, or anything. I had them wheel out the mirror so I could catch the main event (I am not squeamish, it will shock you to find out) and it was a huge motivator to all of a sudden SEE the top of her head (I did have one freak-out moment where I asked "Why is her head cleft??" only to be told it was just squished for my birthing convenience). By this point, Gavin is practically jumping up and down and doing the dance from Thriller, he is so excited, and as a result his counting started to go too fast so they made him slow down a bit.

The excitement was building and infectious and the whole room (both nurses, Gavin, MJ) were now so into the process they were counting out my pushes together like a Sesame Street cult or something. Turned out my "practice pushes" were kicking so much butt, by the time my actual doc got there, she had just enough time to slap on her scrubs and I had only three more pushes and then SHOOOWAAAA, out she was!!!!!! Craziest feeling, ever, lemee tell you. Just like this huge weight and pressure builds and builds and then just vanishes and the greatest relief of your life washes over you.

They flopped her on my belly, all warm and damp and purple and making this sad kitten sound and already looking to nurse! And like magic, as she breathed she turned rosey pink. Me and Gav were just laughing and crying and looking at her and each other in total awe. We had really, truly, made a person, and here she was. Gavin and the whole birth entourage followed her over to the warmer/weigher thing, and for a moment it was just me and the Dr. What am I, chopped livah?

Once she was nicely clean and swaddled they gave her back to me and I looked into her squinting eyes and that was it. A feeling of perfect happiness and completion and the simple knowledge I'd happily die for this little creature. Really, it's just as wonderful as you'd imagine. More so. One of the maybe 3 perfect moments you get in life.

So there's childbirth for you, according to me. It was a wild ride, I can tell you, but never has hard work been more worth it.
Some Lessons Learned:
1. Listen to the advice of medical professionals, because they do this crap a hundred times a day, but also don't let medical-types bully you, because they do this crap a hundred times a day. Ya feel me?
2. Be ready to not be ready. Because no amount of prep will seem like enough, so just set it free.
3. Bring your own pillow from home.
4. Eat a really kickass breakfast every day the week you're due go into labor. You never when you'll go, and they DON'T FREAKIN FEED YOU!!!
5. Map out a couple of decent places to get take out near the hospital. By the time it was all over, I was freakin starving, and that hospital food was the worst ever. Gavin went and got me a Big Mac, fries and a milkshake, the holy trinity of things I don't let myself eat ever. Best tasting food of my whole life. Well done sir.
6. Marry your best friend. It really makes this kind of stuff so much easier and better.

I guess this is growing up...

2009-08-31T18:14:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, one of the things I thought was coolest and most "adult" about my mom was her purse. It smelled like leather and spearmint gum, and had all manner of odd things floating around in it; lipsticks worn down to the dregs, hardware from a door she needed to replace, the bulletin from church the previous week, a half-roll of chocolate Velamints when she was trying to quit smoking, a 3 pound set of keys that would make a janitor blush, and so on. I could look in her purse and instantly get a sense of my mom- her busy, loving, awesomely chaotic life, raising 3 kids on her own and working full time and still having dinner with all of us sitting around the table each night- all contained in one convenient bag. To me, I knew once I was really, truly a grown up, I would have such a purse.

Today I went in my purse looking for a receipt and instead of finding it I came up with an empty camera case, a usb drive, diaper coupons, 7 letters I need to put in the mail box, a free lotion sample, and wafting over it all, the smell of leather and spearmint. I have arrived, folks. I have arrived. I am officially all growed up.

And now, the week in photos:
:

Reading "Where's the Bone?" with Daddy. Will the great mystery of that pesky bone's whereabouts ever be solved?? I beleive it was last seen "Up in the sky".

With Bunbun, her best good friend. I bought him when I found out I was preggo, and she got him the day she was born.

In an outfit Aunt Alex made. Looks cute, and apparently tastes good too!

Shot Through the Leg, and You're to Blame....

2009-08-19T22:36:00.001-07:00

....You give Polio a BAD NAME!! Gawd I love me some Bon Jovi.
So yeah, Gwen-monstress got her first round of shots, and she did just fine. She cried for about a minute- not even Super-Sonic Dolphin Scream,more like a little bit shocked and chagrined- and then was done. I couldn't look at that big mean needle going into that fat little thigh....but I held her and applied Mommy-comfort and she was fine. A bit sleepier than usual at home, but other than that, just the same. Except now immune to like four potentially debilitating diseases! Viva modern medicine! Way to go, Mr. Salk.
I think we heard our first Gwendy laugh today too! It was sort of a wheezy baby-donkey sound. It was incredible enough to send me into all sorts of undignified shenanigans to make it happen again, I tell you. I think its in Peter Pan where every babies first laugh turns into a fairy; I now believe it's so. That laugh could cure cancer. It could create world peace and give everyone free healthcare with no tax increase and make Kim Jong Il dance the Electric Slide. It rocks, that laugh. I will attempt to capture on video in the coming days.

2 Months Old!

2009-08-16T22:20:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe, but our little girl is already 2 months old as of this week. The changes happen so fast, I can't even keep track of them. It's so cool to watch her sassy little personality developing.

Gavin goes back to work tomorrow- we both feel the way you do when you're a kid and summer vacation is about to end. But, we have had an amazing 6 weeks together- the longest we've ever spent w/ neither of us working, and yet the busiest time of our lives! Gav marked the occasion by getting rid of the pirate goatee he had grown over the past few weeks. Also, he discovered he gained a bit (read- more than Gwendy weighs) of weight since he stopped working. HA! Sweet vengeance! Take that, Freakish Metabolism Man! Now watch him loose that poundage in like, 6 minutes. Bastardo.

Tuesday is her first round of vaccinations- I am sort of dreading it. The idea of inflicting pain on such an innocent little monkey sucks. A lot. But I know it's for the best. Sigh.

Here's about a million photos of our gal to commemorate her reaching the 60 day mark!

Um, is her hair looking a bit red? Will I get to live my dream of dressing her up like Anne of Green Gables?

It was Grandma's birthday! Gwendy helped celebrate it by being lovely.

Goofball:

She appears nervous about this bath. Probably because it was the result of being covered in poop and was unexpected.

Right before Gavin got rid of his Paternity Leave Goatee:

Our last day of paternity leave in front of our new building:

Gwendy decided not to scream in rage every time Grandpa picked her up this weekend. It was a pleasant change for all involved:

In her honorary cousin Lucy's former clothes, looking a-freakin-dorable. Yeah, I'm biased. So what?

Fitzpatricks in Spaaaaace!!!!

2009-08-06T12:47:00.001-07:00

PRAISE GOD, we are out of our teensy tiny 350 sq foot apartment and in one nearly triple the size!! We kind of don't know what to do with ourselves, what with all the glorious SPACE. We are still very much digging out from the move, but it feels so very good to have to actually raise our voices to call one another from parts of the apartment. The new digs are in Beautiful Burbank. We are in this cool area called the "Rancho Equestrian District", and they mean what they say- horses literally walk up and down our sidewalk on a daily basis. Plus we are right across from the Los Angeles Equestrian Center, so there's always people riding and horses neighing and all that fab stuff. Double plus, somewhere nearby there are a group of Donkeys that Hee HAW at 6:25 on the button every morning. We love love LOVE our new place. Can't wait to have some of y'all over to see it!
Gwendy is 7 weeks old as of yesterday, and changing seemingly every minute. She now has about an hour of awake playtime for every hour she sleeps during the day. She coos and smiles and is utterly facinated with her own feet at the moment. She stares at them endlessley, drooling like a maniac.
Here's some photos and a nice video of Daddy building Gwendy's crib and her reaction to said crib, or more specifically, her reaction to her lamb mobile.
*(Just a disclaimer- my videos of late are and will continue to be mostly just shots of our girl with very little in the way of careful editing. First, I just don't have that kind of time, and second I make these videos for the Gwendy-hungry among you (you know who you are....Mom, MJ, I'm looking at you) so don't judge me too harshly! )

Gwendy Videos- Good Morning and First Bath!

2009-07-22T14:27:00.001-07:00

Here's our girl waking up and being freed from her dreaded swaddle. Sorry if the sound is a bit loud...you'll see why at around the 51 second mark...

And here's her first real bath. A little long, but super-cute!

One Month Old!

2009-07-15T12:12:00.001-07:00

Boy, this month has flown! And also limped along like a brokedown mule. But our gal Gwen is a whole month old and it kind of makes me sentimental. Especially since now that she's a bit older, she is learning to use her "free and open voice", aka, "crying her ass off". Only for a couple of hours a day, and nothing we can't handle, but still, I look back on the bonny bygone days of newborn sleepiness with nostalgia and longing. We are rewarded, though, with more alertness, and a good 20 minutes of smiling and cooing after each feeding session.
And speaking of which, I stupidly went along w/ my docs advice and used the ole' breastpump so I can start a stockpile of frozen milk. Well, apparantly the message my body got was "Please make milk for a whole cadre of babies. Like enough for a baby army that could take over California and set the budget right!". Poor Gwen is having a bit of a hard time controlling all this excess leche, so I have consulted the Cult of Boobies (aka La Leche League's website) and we are working towards stemming the tide. It could be worse, I suppose- I could be lacking in the milk dept.
BTW- there is no area where more unsolicted and unfounded advice is offered than in the arena of breastfeeding. And the real rub is- it's not an exact science, so nothing works for everyone, or in the same way. I would say the best advice on breastfeeding is simply: If your kid is alive and gaining weight just keep plugging away at it, because nature is messy and complicated and also simple at the same time, so anything you do to try to make sense of this will only mind-screw you right when you are incredibly tired. And that's never good.
We are staying in Fresno this week- it's so hot in LA and we only have the one air conditioner so rather than huddle around it like cave-people around a camp fire, we are crashing at the inlaws and enjoying the privelages of central air, washing machine, and extra arms when Gwendy-wrangling gets tough. Here's some new pics of our little bumble bee:

Emmy: Vibrating armrest, with Ambient Noise Feature

3 Weeks Old!

2009-07-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

We have a wonder-baby, so far. When she fusses, it's for a clear reason, and we can generally figure out what that may be pretty easily. We spent the 4th of July weekend w/ Gavins family up in Murphy's and she was a doll the whole time. I'm nervous though, cause sometimes they flip the script on you and become Fusszillas, right around 3 weeks. Which we are. And she was quite cranky this morning. Sigh. Anywho, here's some picture lovin below. Note she has gotten her crop of "baby acne". Poor little monkey. It's supposed to go away in a few weeks, but we admit to affectionately calling her "pizza face" every so often. Oh, which reminds me, some nicknames we are using:

1. Puppy
2. Batman (it just came out once when I was tired and sort of stuck)

3. Sculto (a really long story that involves a misspelled recipe ingredient).

4. Back-line-it (an even longer story that involves Gavin making up a fictional product to help my pregnancy-sore back)

5. Gwendy-pants

6. Stink

7. Bumble Bee

And about 9 dozen more that get tossed around infrequently. Baby and nicknames apparantly go together like peas and carrots.

Our First Fortnight!

2009-07-01T10:01:00.000-07:00

As of yesterday, our little Gwendy-bird is 2 weeks old! To celebrate, we visited her arch nemesis, the pediatrician. Seriously, why are all the things peds do so howl-inducing? I've heard Gwendy make noises in that office she's never made at home. They stripped her down (which she hates) and put drops in her eyes (which she SUPER hates) and made me take my pinky out of her mouth so they could take a look down her throat (which caused world-melting Super-Dolphin-Scream, which Mommy REALLY REALLY HATES).

But great news- not only is she incredibly healthy- she now weighs 8lbs, 4 oz, which is a 10oz gain from her birth weight!! They always hope babies get back to birth weight by day 10, and here's my little champ seeing them and raising them. I must admit, I was proud as punch, as it is my hard-earned milk adding on all that new padding.

My mom, sister and grammy were out all last week to meet our girl; photos ensued:

And, BONUS, some lists:

Things that are harder than I expected:
1. Lack of Sleep- Because, really, you can't understand lack of sleep until you are experiencing lack of sleep. It colors everything- and I have a so-called 'easy baby' who drops off for 3 hours at a clip! Wow. Imagine a true wailer.....boggles my mind.

2. My Dogs- All my waking hours are spent tending to my human child, so my fur-children are getting the short end of the stick for now. And that makes me feel really crappy, cause like, I love them. But we'll get the hang of it soon and make it up to them.

3. Dealing with Unsolicited Advice- New moms are at their most vulnerable and insecure, cause they love their babies and want the best for them and yet have relatively little experience in making that happen. So all the conflicting advice from well-meaning folks and over-bearing books is totally a mind screw.

4. It's SO Not About Me Anymore- I never have much time to do anything for myself these days, up to and including showering and eating dinner with both hands. So it's an adjustment, not just living for your own needs. Luckily I love the creature whose needs come first more than my own person, so it's not too hard.

Things that Are Easier than I Expected:
1. Breastfeeding- we had one or two awful days, but now we are like fishes in water. The only drawback is I look like I went to Mexico for a cheap boob job that no doctor would be willing to do in the States. They are ridiculous, folks. Seriously. I had prepared for breastfeeding to suck out loud- and while it is not easy, I really do enjoy having her wee hand pat me on the bosom while she nurses as if to say "Thanks Mom, for walking around looking like Anna Nicole Smith for my nourishment!".

2. Saying No to People- If I don't feel up to it, or if it is not conducive to Gwen's well-being, I don't do it. No. And no. And no again. So there.

3. Poo Diapers/Spit up/ Etc.- They're not really that gross in general (all they eat is milk, after all) and not gross at all when it's your kid. Plus all that Emmy Orifice Maintenance is coming in handy, cause nothing shakes me now.

4. Knowing I am a Really Good Mom- Cause I just know it. And that's pretty cool.

Happy Father's Day!

2009-06-21T12:45:00.001-07:00

My amazing hubby and his amazing daughter. Happy Daddy's day, honey.

What a week, you guys. I promise once I come up for air I'll relate the whole incredible (at least to me) story. Let's just leave it at this: nothing will ever be the same, in the best possible way.

Also, to all of you who will get a whole night's sleep tonite- treasure it like a perfect shimmering jewel. Sleep. Precious sleeeeeeeep.

Love at First Sight

2009-06-18T14:44:00.000-07:00

It's possible. In fact it turns out it's inevitable. She's here. I'd say more, but I have an armfull of Gwendy right now and am typing one-handed.
Has anyone ever been this happy?

Gwendolyn Joy Fitzpatrick

6/16/09

1:04 am
7lbs, 10 oz.

Addendum to Previous Blog

2009-06-08T08:50:00.001-07:00

The Full Moon can officially suck it too.

"Labor-inducing", my ass.

2009-06-05T10:40:00.000-07:00

As of today, my official due date,
The Following Things Can Officially Suck it:

1. Red Raspberry Leaf Tea- shove it right up your hippie butts. It tastes like old socks, and has done nathans, as my sis would say.

2. Caioti Pizza's Maternity Salad- 8 bucks for some lettuce and dressing, and nothing doing.

3. Eggplant Parmigiana- I ate nearly an entire pan on my own. Delicious, but no dice.

4. Pineapple- ok, pineapple, i still love you. But you have not been the Cervical Miracle Worker I was promised.

5. Castor Oil: I have not taken this as it causes severe diarrhea and vomiting, both of which are not conducive to health in general or labor in particular.

6. The Suggestion That We Have Sex to Make Baby Come out: Not proven to work, and really folks, if you were me, would you be "in the mood"? I look like a small hippo, and I feel like a large hippo. Not sexy.

7. Walking: I think I have put about 20 miles on my flip flops the past 2 weeks. Baby? Still not here.

Ok, feel a little better now. This girl-child, she is like her momma, she does things in her own sweet time. I have a doc apt on Monday, and this Sunday is the FULL MOON (cue wind chimes) so maybe I'll have some good updates for you. Until then, pregnant I am, and pregnant I stay.

Conundrum Resolved

2009-06-02T20:36:00.000-07:00

Ok, we're gonna wait. We will keep a scheduled induction for June 15th, just in case (10 days past due). But 3 days past her due date isn't enough to induce, in my 'umble opinion. So we wait. Until she's ready. Sigh...

A Conundrum...

2009-06-02T11:07:00.000-07:00

Doc apt yesterday. Guess what? All the walking (5+ miles this weekend), pregnancy salad eating, Red Raspberry Leaf tea drinking, and various other "labor-inducing" shenanigans I've been partaking of have done NOTHING. NADDA. ZILCH-O. I am not dialated, not effaced, and pretty much closed like a sad lonely GM plant in the rust belt. So now my doc wants to talk about induction. Basically, her idea is let's do it on Monday, June 8th. So birth about 3-4 days after my due date. And we. are. mind-screwed.
See, I know like 'natural is best', 'let her come when she's ready', blah blah bliggety blah. But this kid is getting bigger and bigger....so if I wait we could end up w/ a c-section. Aint so much nature involved in that, huh? They only do the inductions on Mondays and Tuesdays each week- so if we don't go on the 8th or 9th, we are into the 42nd week...And after 42 weeks risk starts to go up (aging placenta, meconium in amnio fluid, some increase in stillbirth rate). So to me, like why not just do it and get it done? But then am I jumping the gun? You see how my mind chases itself like a dog after it's own tail?
And then there's the part of me that just wants to be done. Cause I want my baby and I want to not be pregnant anymore and I can't sleep and I walk around like a zombie. And while that's no reason to induce, it's hard to seperate the desire from making the decision. Argh.
I know this much- I will do whatever is ultimately best for Gwendolyn. I just don't know what that is....

The Waaaaiiiting is the Hardest Part...

2009-05-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

Wow, there really is a Tom Petty song for pretty much everything, huh? Even down to dancing with corpses, or stalking your ex, or jumping off balconies. Or waiting to give birth, as the case may be.

Here we are, 9 days from that oh-so-looked-forward-to and yet largely arbitrary day known as the "estimated due date". I had a doc appointment yesterday afternoon. I'm ever so slightly effaced, but still closed for bidness. (Sorry, if you didn't want to know this stuff, don't read my blog, k? And really, after all the talking I've done about my dogs' various orifices and the ointments I've had to spread on them, are you really grossed out by a lil' ole cervix? I thought not.)

I actually got a bit teary-eyed on the drive home- I'm just so so SOOOO tired and ready for labour to begin. Also, I am a planner. I like to know when stuff is going to happen well in advance so I can gather my emotional and physical resources to deal with them- It's just how I be. So having one of the single most pivotal days of my life left to the four winds is a bit hard for me. Luckily I married St. Gavin of Prenatal Consolation, who plied me with cake and kind words and a nap in the air-conditioning.

Last week I went to Caioti Pizza in Studio City and had "The Salad". It is rumoured to bring about labour within 2 days- while I believe in such crap not at all, it sounded like a fun way to spend a Friday evening with hubbster. It was basically a nice romaine salad with a really good balsamic-ish dressing and some walnuts, and I got to put an entry into the running journal they keep of all the mom's-to-be who are coughing up 8+ bucks to try and kick their babies out. While I was eating it, another preggo came in with her husband. We four shared knowing looks, and then, in that shy yet inevitable way the expecting commiserate, asked each other what I think of as the "Pregnancy Trinity" of questions (when are you due, what are you having, how are you feeling). It's nice to know other mommas are sick of being pregnant- makes me feel like less of an evil harpy for wanting Ms. Gwen to vacate so badly.

So, we wait. I have another appointment on June 1st (Monday) and my doc wants to talk about my "options" should we elect to induce. I dunno...as eager as I am, I am not really on board with using a chemical to trick my body into doing something it should do on its own (though really, isn't that what medicine is?). I just know there is a higher incidence of C-section with induction, and I'm not down with that. I am also not down with pushing out a 9.5lb baby either, however, so I'm keeping my options VERY open. I'm praying this is all moot and Ms. Gwen wakes me sometime this week in the wee small hours on a mission to join us here on dry land...I'll keep you posted...

Fort Knox. That is me.

2009-05-19T09:44:00.001-07:00

We had our "how big this baby gonna be?" ultrasound yesterday. It was both an amazing and bizarre exam- she is now so big that you can't get one shot of the whole her- it's all feets and Aliens-type spine and, get this, OPEN eyes, looking at you, blinking. I vacillated between wonder and feeling just a smidge creeped out. I mean, there is a creature with its EYES OPEN in my belly, looking at my innards, even now. Holy crap. But then she rubbed her little face with her hands and pursed her lips at us like she was blowing kisses. And my husband and I became even more twitter-pated with our soon-to-be Gwendy-girl (BTW, she's still emphatically female, thank God. I already washed all her pinky clothes so I can't return them!).

She is, to the shock of exactly no one, a loooong baby, with long limbs and feets and arms. She is weighing in at an estimated 7lbs, 2oz, which is at about the 65th percentile for size. So she's a bit big, but not so much that we need artificial intervention. This is kind of a relief, for as much as I gripe about my various aches and pains, I really would like to let nature do its thing and have her come when she's good and ready. I would not, however, like to follow in my mom's foot steps and go two weeks late and have a child who is 10lbs, 7oz (Hi, Joey!). No siree bob. So if that bridge needs crossing, I'll cross it, later on.

And then, the not fun part. First, more protein in my pee-pee. That's five weeks now. So now I get to have the dignified and amazing privilege "collecting" my urine for 24 hours in this :

Like, seriously, could we have chosen an uglier color? Maybe a brownish-yellow? Cool. I have to tote this thing to the bathroom at work all day today, so's we can check the protein of a whole day's sample. And they recommend I refrigerate it. Where, next to my coworkers' Yoplait Lite and string-cheese? When I turn it in for analysis, I also get blood work, so we can truly rule out preeclampsia. If they don't rule it out, I get induced next week, for sure. But no one really thinks I have preeclampsia, it's more of a cautionary/let's-shame-Nicole-for-fun thing I think. My blood pressure is splendid and I haven't been gaining crazy weight/retaining water.

Also, I am closed. And not effaced, at all. Head is not even a little "engaged" (does anyone else picture Jean Luc Picard telling the baby to "Engage!" there? I do). So pretty much, Gwen is busy picking out new wallpaper and curtains for my uterus and has no plans on moving out any time soon. Rats. I was secretly harboring visions of my doc going "Heavens! You are already 9 1/2 cms dilated! Let's just go across the street to maternity and deliver you now, kay?" Nothing doing.

S'ok, though. As I said, nature, blah blah, she'll come when she's ready, blah blah blah. Except, maybe the slightest, most selfish, back-sore, bloated part of me is hoping that my giant orange jug o' pee has a soupcon more protein than recommended so they induce me this weekend....NOOO. Forget I said that. I didn't mean it. Really.

Seriously, Healthy Gwendy, Healthy Mom= #1 priority. You just stay in there as long as you like, my duckling. Momma can tough it out.

The Last Hurrah

2009-05-14T10:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I got an unexpected day off from work- and miracle of miracles, it happened to coincide with Gavin's day off too! So we went down to the Santa Monica Pier and had ourselves a Last Day Off Together Without the Baby. We know that once she's here it will be wonderful, etc, but we've been 'just us' for going on 5 years now, and it felt fitting to mark the occasion of that coming to an end with some fun. We played skeeball and air hockey at the arcade, and saw a momma and baby harbor seal duo sunning themselves on some guys boat, and sat and watched the carousel horses for a bit... and then my body reminded me it was NINE MONTHS PREGNANT, so we drove off to a nice lunch that didn't involve me walking anywhere. We rented dopey movies, and noshed on junk, and remembered why we are married in the first place. For the tax benefits. No,just kidding, it's cause we'd rather spend time with each other than with anyone else on earth.
But now we are back to reality. I am becoming increasingly tired- it reminds me of way back in first trimester. And there still seems to be a ton of crap to get done. This weekend is the big house cleaning festival- joy of joys. You haven't lived till you've seen someone of my current proportions harnessing the "Cleaning power of oxygen!" and deploying the "Power of Pinesol!".
OH, and I'm worried about the heat! We've already had a few 90+ degrees days here and all we have is one lame-o window air conditioner in our bedroom. The hubs and I can tough it out, but what about Ms. Girl? The only kind of ac we could get for the front room would be a portable, since we don't have traditional windows, and those start at 279 freakin dollars!! GAH!! BOO!!
We'll fig it out though. I must remind myself to be zen, calm, maternal-type woman. Yes, like, shakras and chimes and all that mess. Ohm. Or something.

Shower pics! Finally!

2009-05-11T14:02:00.000-07:00

As promised, a million shower photos. It was just the best shower ever. Really, I cannot say how grateful I am to my awesome friends and fam. Enjoy!

Our gorgeous nephew William, being gorgeous.

I am all about Tummy Play....

Everyone got something they liked at our shower, even Tony:

Phil and Mo enjoying the magic of pregnancy hormones:

Me and the Mr.

Lucy being helpful, cause she's great:

Gavin: Gay or Weird? You decide...

I'm going with Weird.

My awesome inlaws and the Mr. and Me.

Caption not needed:

Two of these men know what Gavin is in for. One of them is Gavin.
Can you tell which is which?:

Rockin hand-made shoes from my sis-in-law Alex:

Guess who Aunt Joy is...

Fresno State crew, with Lucy filling in for Brooke:

Reality Check

2009-05-07T16:47:00.000-07:00

This will be a brief one. I have baby shower pics (it was a wonderful shower, thanks again everyone) a'comin from my good friend Ash, whose camera kicks my cameras ass, but until they arrive I thought I'd share a little moment of, well, reality with you. I woke up yesterday and the first thing I saw was this:

Oh yeah kids, that's right. It's a Gwendy bed. Our daughter is really, really coming. In like, less than a month. Holy Crap.

We kind of have a humble little "nurserette" going on in our bedroom until our lease is up in August and we can swing a bigger place- she'll sleep in the Pack-N-Play basinette until we can set up her lovely crib in the new pad. It's small, but no parents ever prepared for a baby with more excitement and love.

So there. Reality. Yeah.

That's One Way to Say It

2009-04-29T14:55:00.000-07:00

We had our last birth class on Monday. 5 weeks have never flown by so fast, I'm telling you. The final class the teacher was finishing up a few loose ends, one of which was a big chart with pictorial descriptions of "Causes for C-Sections". The teacher is going one by one, explaining each, and she pointed to the one with the small pelvis and asked "Who can tell me what's happening here?". My husband, in quite a loud declamatory voice piped up with "THE HEAD'S TOO BIG FOR THE HOLE." Well done sir. I suppose that is a bit easier to say than "cephalopelvic disproportion"

Also, my shower is this Saturday! Yay! And Joy just got into town today to go to it!!! DOUBLE YAY!! I can't wait for some hangin' w/ my sister time. Plus, Ash comes this weekend, and a bunch of my friends are able to make it out to Fres-yes for the festivities. I feel blessed, folks. Blessed, and hungry for a nice Reuben sandwich with xtra kraut. Mmmmm....Reuben...

Don't mess with the bees. They will sting you in the face.

2009-04-23T10:35:00.000-07:00

Jeez, what a day, and it's barely begun yet. As I mentioned in my last blog, we had some bees inside the eves of the house that overhangs our backyard. . As seen here:

The guy came yesterday while I was at work and removed the honeycomb(!) and killed (relocated?) what bees remained. The weird thing is, we thought he'd already been there. You see, when we left the house at 4 on Monday, things looked like they do in that picture above. And when we returned at 5:30, there were about 30 bees crawling on the ground in a sort of beemageddon (beepocalypse?) and just a couple in the eves. We assumed someone had sprayed, but no. Some mysterious event culled the bees. I think it was that lady from Britain's Got Talent. She's everywhere these days.

Anywho, those bees must have wanted revenge. Emmy had been stung a couple of times in previous days, but I was always there to give her Benadryl and pull out stingers. Well, apparently she must have found a straggler last night, because this morning I awoke (after evil dog next door had been howling to himself for a full hour) to find her covered in hives and with a face like this:

Granted, her eyes are closed, not swollen shut in this picture, so it's not as bad as it looks. But still!! And when I went to the bathroom to get her Benadryl, someone (I'm looking at you, Gavin) had neglected to correctly cap both the Day and Night-quills, and then knocked them over, so a big syrupy sludge-puddle of orange and blue-green was making its way down the bathroom shelves. Argh. I shoulda had a V8. Or something.

34 Weeks, now with more bees!

2009-04-22T12:11:00.000-07:00

We skipped our birthing class this week. First, my back had gone to the really bad place that day, which made sitting in a chair for another two-plus hours in addition to my 8hr work day not appealing. And second, it was the class about "What could go wrong". My hubster was NOT INTERESTED. I am an info junkie, so I had no problem with it (not like it's anything i haven't already read in my 10+ pregnancy books), but I understand where Gav is coming from. So instead of class, we made pasta bolognese and then I built myself a giant circle of pillows so I had a hollow for my belly and I could lie face down for the first time in 8 months. It was WONDERFUL- I now build pillow-nest every evening after work, and get a nice back rub. Good man, that Gav.
We had our bi-weekly doc apt last night, and while everything was good, they did find a little protein in my pee. If hearing about pee offends you, read no further, btw. Protein in urine can be indicative of a UTI, or even preeclampsia, something we DO NOT want to have. Luckily, my blood pressure is awesome, so they don't think it's that. I have to give another sample in two weeks, and hope its less 'Atkins Approved'. The bad part is my doc thinks it may just be I was a little dehydrated, and she unfortunately said so in front of Gavin. He is now following me around with glasses of water, like that little girl in 'Signs', forcing me to drink. Thanks doc. Peeing 464 times a day due to baby's head on bladder wasn't enough....
Oh! And we have bees! Like hundreds of them, living in the eves of the house next door. It's been so hot that to cool themselves off they formed massive clusters hanging off the house. I'll put a pic up tonite. At first I wanted to just let them alone, since bees are so scarce these days. But Emmy has now been stung 3 times due to her need to attempt to ingest said bees, and I can't imagine being stung is great for me right now, so they must go. Besides, pulling bee stingers out of a pugs silky little face with a pair of tweezers is easier said than done. Landlord is sending someone out today to de-bee us. I kind of want to believe they will catch them and release them in some bee-meadow somewhere, like where my mom sent Angie, our German Shepherd, when I was five...
SO that's all the news thats fit to print for now. I am due for more belly pics- I'll take some soon.

The Moment of Real

2009-04-14T10:11:00.001-07:00

Not much to report here at the ole baby farm. I can't bend over anymore without feeling like I'm laying on top of a boulder, which I guess I sort of am. My back sings Ave Maria at around 2:30 pm every day, so I take little jaunts around the office to see how my co-workers are doing. I got Gwen's clothes (we've accumulated quite a bit already, and my shower is still to come!) mostly sorted out last weekend- I lined her dresser drawers in uber-cute hot pink Fleur De Lis paper and started separating her clothes into age groups.

OK, I must say, Oh Mighty Baby Industry, your sizing standards suck right out loud. Some are 'Newborn', some are '0-3', some are just '3', and some are '3-6'. And none of them seem to conform to any standards within any of these groups. And how is "Newborn" different than "0"?? Stupid. I say they should just go by weight. Cause like if my newborn is ginormous, she's still a newborn, but she sure as heck aint fittin in newborn clothes for more than a week. Ah well, I think it will all just end up a giant tangle of onesies by the end of the first month anyway.

Class last night- all about the coaches. Gavin got all sorts of cheat sheets for his little "Binder O' Birth", and we did 2 new breathing techniques for when the poop hits the proverbial fan. And then, as usual, we ended with a video.

In most of these, the women are very crunchy, birth pooling, rocking-on-a-ball-while-moaning in-a-"visceral and guttural way" types- I mean, this is largely a class of natural pain coping techniques, so it makes sense. But in every video, there is what I think of as "The Moment of Real". This is when the smoke of the incense clears, and the rain forest sounds fade away, and the woman in question loses her everloving mind for a brief moment. The first night, it was when this chick was told to feel between her legs for her babies head, and her reaction upon touching it was "You've got to be kidding me! He's still THAT FAR up there???!!!". Another was when this woman who had been born in Guatemala was in so much pain that she literally could no longer understand English and had to have her husband translate the doc's instructions. Last night's was another winner: "Why don't you people HELP ME??? JESUS!!!!!". Then their coach or doula or whoever talks them back off the ledge, and usually the baby comes in the next 20 minutes. But I think it's that moment, the Moment Of Real, that truly unites us all as women for a brief span of time. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, as it seems to come during the deepest, most painful trough of child bearing, but I hope I recognize it for what it was after the fact. And I mostly hope I don't harm my husband physically or emotionally as a result of it...

Does it seem that all I write about is the baby? There are other things in my life- the usual little triumphs and disappointments, etc. I'm obviously not doing any auditioning right now (though I'm tempted to show up to a few just to see the expression on the casting directors faces) but Gavin and I are working on a really fun project together (outside of the project of Gwendy making, I mean)- I'll disclose more once it's fleshed out a bit, but it's letting me write and him draw, so we both are having a blast. I don't know, I don't want it to seem that I've misplaced my identity outside of motherhood or something- but the reality of this new person, who reminds me of her existence every chance she gets with her rolls and kicks- is truly pretty all-consuming and blows my mind on a daily basis, so it's what ends up on this blog. So there.

I pinch...plus, 32 weeks pictures!

2009-04-07T09:25:00.000-07:00

We had our Prepared Birthing class again last night. I like the title of it. Because, really, I'm gonna get the epidural. Even if I decide before the big day that I wont get it (and to be honest, there have been times recently when I want to see what I'm made of and tough thru it sans drugs), I know that when I'm in that hospital, with my lady bits all aflame, and there is the option of sweet sweet relief available as soon as I say "ok!", I will cry uncle. I know myself. I have come to grips with it, and you should too. If I believed there was a chance the epi would hurt my kid, that'd be a different animal, but whatever, I don't want to start some debate over natural vs medicated labor, because it's one of those topics people get WAY too passionate about and start talking out of their asses, etc. Ok, the most rambling paragraph ever ends with this: I like it being called "Prepared Birthing" because I want to have all the info and then make my own choices. And that's what I'm doing.

So last night's class was about breath and using it to manage labor. Ya see, beyond the pain part of child birth, there is also the fact that one will feel the need to push before one should actually do so, potentially resulting in massive sadness for aforementioned lady bits if one succumbs to said urge. To put it simply, you SHOULD NOT push until the doc says, "Go for it!". But how does one overcome what is basically a visceral and unavoidable need? Well, it will gratify my acting teachers to know its all about breath. This was a cool thing about the class last night- it all tied into stuff I've learned in voice and movement training. Releasing breath is a release of tension, and also an expulsion of energy. So instead of bearing down, we were instructed to puff out our air ( i wont go into the details of all the techniques involved- go get pregnant and learn for yourself if you wanna). But it's impossible to clench down while releasing all your air- you are already expelling your energy on the breath. Cool.

And then for pain, we used another kind of breathing- this sort of hard pant (there were like 3 options for types of pants, again, go get a book). This connected breath to the tension in your body, and distracted your mind from the pain. Here's where Gavin had to pinch me on the leg. I thought this would be a mild/moderate pinch, but as our fake contractions "peaked", the guys (and gal) were supposed to "Give em all ya got!".

Wow! Poor Gavin didn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt. I mean,here's his wife, all pregnant with his kid, and he's supposed to hurt her on purpose. And it's me we're talking about. Lord knows I'd be scared to pinch me and then go home with me. I actually had to hit his arm to make him pinch hard enough. The cool thing was, it worked- I really was distracted from focusing on the pain. To prove this, the guys gave us a quick little pinch afterwards and we all jumped- a reaction none of us had while breathing. Now, I am not going to tell you I didn't feel anything, but my mind was not solely focused on the pain, which lessened it.

We then watched a video/had a talk about the stages of labor, and when to go to the hospital, etc. I proudly inform you that my husband was the only man who didn't squirm when the placenta was delivered, and actually said out loud how amazed he was at how that thing keeps a baby alive for 9 + months. Ladies and gentleman, he is ready.

Next week is coaches night- where Gavin gets his marching orders. He is stoked about this. I think men in general feel better when they have a job to do.

Oh! And I had my 2 week doc appointment before the class. Fetal heartbeat strong as a horse, I am measuring right on track, my weight gain is perfect, and the baby is already upside down and ready to rock and roll! Yay uncomplicated pregnancy!

Here are some pics of me from last night post-class/pre-bed. 32 weeks, kids! Only 2 months to go....maybe even less....Squeeeee!!!

I look like that crazy Suleman chick in these last two...

Birthing Class- it's not just for hippies anymore.

2009-04-01T10:51:00.000-07:00

We had our first birthing class on Monday night (we were told it was not to be called Lamaze class, as that implies we will only learn Lamaze, and not the smorgy of other techniques on the roster) and it was really cool. I was apprehensive about it a bit- some of my friends and fellow preggos have dug their classes, while some thought they were crappy and irrelevant. But ours so far is pretty damn awesome.
For starters, the nurse who teaches it has been doing so for 28 years. Holy crap. The only thing I've been doing consistently for 28 years is being a smartass. Wow. Also, she is the lactation specialist for our hospital, so it's nice to get to know her now. Second, it was good to be in a room with a bunch of other couples from all walks of life who are kind of on the same page as us. Everyone was a first timer, and it was like a cool club we were all members of. A club that involves videos of gooshy baby births.
We learned some massage techniques that our Partners (so un PC-to call the men who got us in this predicament "dads" or, heaven help us, "husbands") are supposed to practice nightly to help our low backs (yay!). The best part is the nurse demonstrated these massages on an unsuspecting volunteer mom (who's partner was actually another chick, and her spouse, so forget my un-PC complaint, and vive la difference!:) . Nursey had her straddle this chair and next thing we know, she is totally squishing this ladies ass and tail bone in a rhythmic motion. We all became 7 years old and got the giggles, especially the chick's partner and a few of the younger dads. And Gavin. Of course.
Then we watched the aforementioned moist-ish baby birth videos, and boy, has my man made progress. The first time we saw one of these, like back in October, he was so totally skeeved out that I wondered if him fainting/and or puking should be written into our "Birth Plan" (not doing one of those, BTW.) But now that our gal Gwen is a reality, he was so fascinated and awed by the whole process, the inherent grossness didn't phase him at all. Right on, my modern Hubster. You are gonna be such a good dad.
So all in all, it was a really good night, and we both came away feeling like the whole thing will be a nice bonding experience before the birth. I'll give you updates- next sesssion is "Pinch Your Wife While she Attempts to Breath Thru the Pain" week. I kid you not. Oughta be a comedic goldmine, is what I'm thinkin'. Especially when I punch Gavin in the man-area and see if he can breathe thru it.

Junk in my Trunk

2009-03-30T11:25:00.000-07:00

OMG, look at what I found this weekend at a yardsale for 20 bucks!!!! Click pictures to bigify:

I had been wanting an old trunk to use as a coffee table- our former coffee table, while awesome, is really for a bigger space and plus lacks the ability to store air mattress/guest bedding like my fab trunk can- it will live in storage until a bigger place is found. Special shout out to Gavin and Tony for carrying it the 4 blocks to my house like a pair of lost pirates. Here is trunk of awesomeness in the living room:

20 freakin bucks, people. Gawd, i love a bargain. Of course, I managed to poke a hole in the air mattress only the day before by trying to shove it under my bed, thinking I would never find a trunk for under 200 bucks and so would not be getting one in the near future and therefore needed a space to store said air mattress. Irony, you are truly a nasty ho. But wait, is that really ironic? Or is it merely unfortunate, like all the crap in that Alanis Morisette song? Yeah, just unfortunate. Ironic would be if the trunk itself poked the hole....I think. My head hurts.

Space, the Final Frontier

2009-03-19T14:52:00.000-07:00

Spring has Sprung, or is, at least, in the process of Springing. And I, like the wee birdies, am in the process of "nesting". Now, I have always been a nester- someone who likes to carve out a little haven of home in any place she lives, no matter how temporary or how weirdly and inappropriately configured that place may be (I am looking at you, Brooklyn apartment). But with Gwen's arrival becoming ever more impending, I have entered a frenzied state of nesting the likes of which the world, or more particularly Gavin, has never seen. Before you read further, I must point out that the following blog is probably not interesting at all, but it's whats going on w/ me right now, so there you go. You've been warned.

Our current apartment is cute, and modern. I picked it out with the thought that it would take us many months to get pregnant, so the fact that it is postage stamped sized would not matter. It's a guest house that has a ginormous private outdoor space, and I had visions of wine soaked springtime parties and Gavin and I eating dinner al fresco. Little did I know that we would get "in the fambly way" literally our first month of occupancy, and I would be trying to figure out how to fit an additional person who happens to come with a whole lot of "supplies" into a space the size of the waiting room at your doctors office.

S'ok, though. Our lease is up in September, and Ms. Gwen would be in the room with us the first few months anyways. So we will make it work. Step one, creative storage. I have under-the-bed boxes, those clear rolly closet drawer things, stuff under the couch- any damn where there is space, there be stuff. Step two, weeding thorough said stuff so as to have less of it. I am going through all our drawers and closets and condensing like I work at the Campbell Soup factory. Goodbye, clothes I keep but never wear. S'long, Hibachi grill that leaks propane so that when you cook something you smell farts the whole time. I have weeded out quite a bit, but the real push will be this weekend, when I address our li'l storage shed....shudder....

And in funner (for me, anyway) activities, Step Three, make the most of the space we have by making it nice. I am refinishing most of our bedroom furniture so that it is lighter and brighter and at least pretends to match one another. I got new bedding to make the room seem bigger and fresher (special shout out to my ultra-patient mother-in-law who spent like 5 hours going from store to store to find matching pillow shams this weekend). Also, last weekend I finished Gwendy's dresser that we got from the junk/antique store a few weeks back. It is super cute w/ little kitties carved into the top. Here's some pics of my efforts w/ it:
Before:

After: I did like a distressed/crackle thing to it- much easier than sanding it down to bare wood. It looks a bit like snake skin in this picture (yuck) but I promise it's cuter in person and not at all like a Def Leppard member's pants. I still may get some new hardware- maybe pink glass knobs...whee! Girly!

And a close up of the kittehs:

We also did some registry updating. Now that the initial "seal" has been broken, tweaking the existing registry is not as scary a process. Still, here is Gavin vs. Babies R Us. I think Babies R Us is winning:

We did manage to pick out a new stroller, though (the one he is holding on to like a life raft in this picture, as a matter o'fact) and this lovely crib, which is kinda sweet and ole fashioned and goes with the swoopy back of the kitteh dresser:

So there you have it. Not my most entertaining blog, but hey, what did you want for free? More tummy pics soon, I promise.
OH! Also, both Joy and Ash are coming to my baby shower in May!!!!! I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. Just saying. Ok, done now.

Things That Make Me Swear Like Lucifer's Aunt

2009-03-09T14:44:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned before, I am attempting to swear off the swearing. In an effort to identify my triggers, I will now list some of the situations that tempted me to use low-speech in the past week:

1. Neighbor who decides to have entire back yard of trees cut down at 8am on a Sunday.

2. Douchey guy at Whole Foods, West Hollywood, who makes the abysmal parking situation there exponentially worse by choosing to park his Mercedes in REVERSE as literally dozens of people are held up behind him.

3. In general, people who park in reverse.

4. Going along with the parking theme, the people on my block who like to park squarely in the middle of each chunk of parkable curb, so that no one else can fit.

5. The Mystery Dog in my neighborhood who barks at 2:30 am for a half hour as though he is programmed by the Swiss to do so.

6. Customers in front of me in line at Target who would like to do three separate transactions to pay for their Lemon Pledge, Hungry Man Dinners, and bag of candy, paying for each with small increments of cash and change.

7. The people at the department of Water and Power, who have started inexplicably charging us for "sewage services" when we have never paid for such services before.

8. People on my baby chat board who are naming their kids ridiculous things, like "Poppy-Harlow Niveah", "Dresdyn Grey" (dressed in gray, anyone??), "Ryersen", and "Pennar". I respect their right to name their children, as long as they respect my right to think they are lame.

9. The mournful looking lady who sits outside our supermarket and begs for money for her mysterious "cause", and who gives me a doubtful look when I say, truthfully, "I don't have cash" (I never carry cash, it's sort of my thing).

10. The fact that my dog woke up covered in hives and is apparently allergic to something. I am thinking that something is fleas, as I saw one (just one!) on her...but you never can tell with Emmy. It's liable to be a space virus or Chinese Death Flu something.

Week 27

2009-03-03T10:13:00.000-08:00

First, Some photos, mostly for my fam who were asking for belly updates:

This one below has sort of become the "control" outfit- mostly cause I wear the swishy pants (made as wedding present from Brook lo these 4 years ago) so much that the "velvet" has worn off and the individual pants molecules are holding hands just to keep the whole thing together.

FINALLY, we are getting more impressive from the front!

I really need to vary my poses- I know. It's just that it becomes increasingly hard not to feel foolish taking these- and my face usually looks bored, or goofy, or both when I try to "smile for the camera". Whatever- we all know it's just belly you're interested in anyway!!

In baby development news- I now can feel kicks in two places at once, simultaneously, as she is big enough to touch both top and bottom of belly when she stretches out. Last night it looked like the creature from Alien was trying to burst forth from my belly- sounds horrible, but it cracked me and Gavin up for a good half hour (we don't get out much these days...).

OH! and Gavin and I are trying to swear off swearing. Mostly just the big bad ones. We are thinking that A: Usually cursing just means you are being lazy in your choice of words- we have way better ones to express ourselves, so we might as well use them and B: I don't cherish the idea of cursing so much around a baby- I know, I know, it's bound to happen, and for the first few months she wont really be picking up too much- but she'll be fresh and new and...I dunno, it couldn't hurt to lessen the sailor speak. SO the way it works is, when one of us slips up and uses an expletive, the other one has to call them out. That becomes a strike. You get 10 strikes and then your spouse gets a prize of their choice. So far, potential prizes have been a weeks worth of unlimited control of the remote, spouse has to do dog bathing for three months, or spouse does all the cooking and shopping duties for 2 weeks. Since SundayGavin has three strikes. I have none. HA! I think i have this one in the bag.

Nicole Fitz: Bargain Huntress

2009-03-02T16:32:00.000-08:00

One of the traits I wish to pass on to my wee daughter is the love of the hunt....the thrill of the bargain....the tingle of knowing you got something for less than other people paid. My mother bequeathed this magic to me, and I in turn shall pass it on...I have no idea why it makes me so happy to get a deal, but it does, dammit, and it's one of the healthiest ways to get a buzz I know of. I mean really, no one is hurt AND you save money?! Win/win. My big score this weekend was baby bedding. There was a set I kind of liked at Target.com that was about 150 bucks on sale, but I was holding off on getting it- I didn't know if I should wait for the shower/for the price to drop further, etc. Now I know I was really holding out because fate had a Supreme Bargain in store for me.

We were in Baby Gap this Sunday checking out some maternity tee shirts (when you start out with in inordinately long torso, and then stick a basket ball on the front of it, turns out your shirts are too damn short.) And there I saw it. A freakin adorable 4 piece bedding set in exactly the colors, textures, and materials I wanted, ON SALE for over 70% off! It was 250! And I paid 85! HOLLAR BACK! I know it is tacky to tell people what you paid for stuff, but I am my mother's daughter, and the joy of the steal outweighs the shame of it. It is white cotton pique with embroidered fleurs and butterflies and bumble bees all over its cute self. I am putting a pic up below, so you can roll around in my bargain with me.
Yay! Baby Gwen gets to sleep under Mommy and Daddy's wedding colors! And Mommy gets to sleep under the 165 bucks she saved- it makes a thin blanket, all those crisp one dollar bills, but a warm one nonetheless.

The new man in my life...

2009-02-17T15:18:00.000-08:00

Meet George. At first, he took some getting used to. You see, I've had the same man in my bed for many years now, and getting used to George's....well....bulk... took some time. And now- well now I can't go to bed without him. At first Gavin was jealous- but the other night, I came to bed only to find him sound asleep, spooning George in a loving embrace. While it was disturbing, I am all for harmony in the home, and Gavin has been very nice about sharing our bed with a third. George relaxes me, and puts me into positions I've never experienced before. In short, even though it's only the beginning of the relationship, I think I'm gonna have to keep sleeping with him. For about another 3 1/2 months anyway. Here's a pic of him:

And so you get an idea of his size, and how I sleep with him, here's a pic of him with his ex:

Looks like she was preggo too. Some guys are just into that, I guess.

Photos! Cause I gave you my word!

2009-02-09T20:32:00.001-08:00

We went to Hell's Kitchen (the show, not the neighborhood) in week 22 . I haven't gotten even remotely dressed up in 3 months, so I thought I'd include a pic:

And then Week 23:

And this week, week 24! More than halfway there- only four months to go really!

Not too dramatic from when I first "popped", but every Thursday I measure my circumfrence using toilet paper squares (hey, it's always around) and, I went up 1/3 of a square between wk 23 and 24. (Keep in mind, week 23 in pregnancy time means 22 weeks plus x days, cause then your like, in your 23rd week, or some such nonsense. I don't really get it- I just go by the little ticker that emails me)
PS: Why do I always look sleepy in these pictures? Must be after 8pm...

5 tidbits of thought, covered in savory mozzarella.

2009-02-04T09:03:00.000-08:00

I am woefully owing in belly pictures, I swear I will take one tonight. But anyways, here are some things floating around my brain:

1. What about a tax credit for buying an American car? I know it'd piss off foreign car makers a bit, but wouldn't pumping assloads of money into the American companies piss them off even more? And this would still allow for competition within the American brands. Plus, I'd like to get a chunk back for buying my partial zero emissions focus when I coulda bought a Hyundai....I may be a selfish bitch, but I am also an honest bitch.

2. Hey, President Obama, I'm super glad you apologized so emphatically for all those tax-evading nominations. I was impressed, as always, by your lack of bullshit and very non-politiciany candor. But in the future, could you please maybe have your LEGIONS OF STAFF do a slightly better vetting job? Cause we liberal types already get enough shit about taxes, without having a bunch of our higher-ups not paying them.

3. Hey, Mr. Cheney, would you just go dry up some where? While I agree managing terrorists is a dirty job, I refuse to believe it is one that requires us to shit on our own Constitution, or on human rights for that matter.

4. I have done research on vaccinations vs no vaccinations. I am going with vaccinations.

5. I need to read some good books. All I have read for about 6 months are books about pregnancy and birth, and it's never a good idea to know that much about one's own uterus.

That's all. Belly picture soon, I promise.

Life Update, etc.

2009-01-23T09:58:00.000-08:00

I haven't the energy for a clever title today, kiddos. I am Tired, with the capital "T" denoting the specialness and profundity of my Tiredness as opposed to the bourgeois, pedestrian tiredness the rest of the unwashed masses experience. Har de har har. I am wrapping up rehearsing Stage Door, which goes up tonight. I will be done with that on Saturday, and then I can go back to the lovely 10 odd hours of sleep a night that my body seems to be demanding. For this week, however, it's been work all day, run home for a bite to eat, and rehearse all night. Wash, rinse, repeat. I am having a really good time though- so nice to be rehearsing again, even if only for a 2-nighter.

Anywho, add to the lack of sleep the fact that my dogs decided inexplicably to get into a bad scrap (or maybe 'explicably', since there was a piece of chicken skin involved) that left Emmy with a weird limp last night- I don't know if this was the result of all 11 pounds of Percy's might knocking her ass over tea kettle, or a mistimed attempt of hers to jump up on the bed to get away from him (really, their rare little fights involve no biting, just a lot of noise and knocking into one another). She had no bite marks or injuries I could feel- I was up and down her leg pulling and pinching with no sign of pain, but she was limping and not her jovial self all night. She slept in bed with us and I was up about 4 times to check on her, poor puggy, and this morning called the vet to make an appointment to get her checked out. Literally as I was on the phone, she decided to put weight on her leg, eat all her food from the previous night, and sniff around for an errant piece of the aforementioned chicken. Vet said to give it a day before bringing her in. Arghh. Freakin' dogs.

BUT- me and Gav have tommorow off together (until I have to go to call) so I plan on sleeping in and having brunch and all the things that refuel me till the cows come home, followed by a Sunday of the same.

That's all. Baby is doing great, wigglin and kicking and being a growing fetus-child. I lerv her, you guys. I really, really do. Sometimes I swear she knows when I need a little pick me up, and gives me a kick in the belly so I know she's there. So really, I have nothing to complain about. Tell me to shut up. Ok, shutting up. Boo.

PS: I ought to post a belly pic soon- I think it's bigger, but in a weird way, like it's dropping down lower or something. Probably since I am not Christmas eating anymore, I'm not packing on poundage like last month. Good times.

Ultrasound pic- Week 20!

2009-01-15T13:52:00.001-08:00

In addition to the "bingo!" shot where we learned we're getting a girl, we also go this lovely pic:

There's our gal Gwendy- looking all big and baby like. I've been feeling her squirm and kick the last couple of days- I got the first "for reals" kick on Friday and it's finally becoming a regular thing. I must tell you, in all seriousness, words to not do justice to the feeling of that baby moving, so I wont even attempt. Suffice it to say, it's something profound.
Oh, and so you don't think I'm one of those women who gets preggo and can only think of that, I am doing a fun part in a little production/staged-reading hybrid of Stage Door with the Antaeus Academy. We are semi-staging it, semi not, and only have about 2 weeks to rehearse. Quick and dirty theatre, that's how I likes it. So Gwendolyn is on the stage already, and let me tell you, she is a brilliant actress.
That's all. We plan on starting to register for bebe stuff this weekend- guaranteed to yield humorous results as Gavin negotiates the wild and wooley world of lactation accoutrement. Stay tuned.

It's a.....

2009-01-14T10:42:00.000-08:00

Ok, first, quickly, my coworker Jen is Cuban, and she made me do this little gender predictor exercise. There are 2 chairs, one with a knife under it and one with a spoon, and the preggo gal picks one to sit in w/ out knowing which has which. If she picks the knife, boy. If she picks the spoon....

I got the spoon.
And, according to my ultrasound yesterday............
IT'S A GIRL!!!! Viva la Cuba!!!!
Gwendolyn Joy is on her way! Now it's time for us to go out and drown ourselves in frou-frou pinkness!! Wheeeeee!!

Belly Pics! Week 19-ish!

2009-01-05T21:01:00.000-08:00

Here are some long-promised belly pics. If you are bored, go back to my first ones and marvel at the miracle of the ever-growing belly. Wild. At least to me. Oh flat belly of old, although thine demise is for a very noble cause, I do miss thee.

First, about a week and a half ago (so like, 17th-ish. Lord knows I don't get this timing crap), at Joy's and Kev's house in NY:

And then, tonite: DUM DUM DAHHHH!!!!

Now, clearly, some of this must be more than a week or two's growth. I find the belly size is very dependent on whether I have recently eaten, as new fitzbaby pushes old stomach to new and scarey places. Oh pregnancy, you weird and wiley thing, you. But, in just a few short days, I am officially half way there...GAH!!!

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jog.

2008-12-30T14:40:00.000-08:00

So Christmas was....AWESOME. So much fun spending time w/ Joy and Joey and Mom and Dad, and all the rest of the lovely peeps that make up my New York mafia of loved ones. You have not lived until you have seen my motley crew of family play Cranium. Let's just say Gavin, my salty dad, and my 85 year old Grammy were on one team. I haven't laughed so much in I don't know how long (at one point, Dad had to use Gavin as a living puppet so Grammy could guess the clue "lawn mowing). And it was really cool that my VERY divorced parents were both willing and happy to have a combined Christmas dinner and play silly games together like fools. My parents rock.

My one regret is that I never got to see Ash, what with work schedules/fam schedules/the powers of the universe conspiring against us, but I think I will be able to see her in the Fresno in a coupla weeks.

In baby news, my belly has decided to make an appearance. Really, the difference is startling for only a few weeks time having elapsed since last photos. I will post sumthin of it in the next day or so, once I get my camera unpacked. Oh, and everyone, man, woman and child, should go out and get some maternity jeans. They are jeans, but with cozy stretchy tee-shirt material band instead of a zipper or button. AHHHhhhhhh. So comfy.

SO back in LA, where it is a balmy 70 degrees and the palm trees are a'dancin. Not such a bad deal.

Quicky Preggo Update- 15 weeks

2008-12-11T11:12:00.000-08:00

Hi. All is well in baby town. Tonite we get to go the hospital and see where fitzbaby will be born and probably get a sales pitch for birthing classes. I'm excited because this is supposed to be one of those "family friendly" hospitals where you get a private room and labor/deliver/recover all in one place thats decorated like a guest bedroom (if your guest room had creepy medical stuff in the corners).
I have been experiancing a little "Round Ligament Pain" which is preggo-ese for "bizarre twingy pain in belly area"- particularly when I sneeze, which I just did. Ouch. Apparantly this is due to the weight of my womb pulling on all the ligaments attached to it. Who knew?

I have a doc apt next week, but not a cool ultrasound appointment (BOO!!!). We do get to listen to the fitzbabies li'l heartbeat though, which should be nice.

I go in for some dental treatments the day before. I was nervous since I didn't want to do anything that could hurt the baby, but my doc signed a waiver saying all was cool. I guess second trimester, in addition to not sucking like first trimester, means your baby is a lot more developed and durable, so a little novacaine on mom's teeth wont hurt him/her.

And then!! Next week!! I go home to NY for what I hope is the best Christmas to date!! I miss my family SO much, and I SO need a Lucy-hug- I really can barely contain myself!!! I particularly miss my Mom- It's weird, but being pregnant really makes me just want to hug her. A lot. Also, NY food. There are no words for how much of you I intend to eat, and how much I intend to enjoy it. I have only gained 5 lbs so far (right on target), so I feel like I am entitled to a foody good time.

I'll try to get a new belly-pic up this weekend- things are DEFINITELY a'changing on that front.

That's all the news that's fit to print. Lerv and kisses.

Tee hee...

2008-12-08T09:58:00.000-08:00

Here. Don't say I never gave ya nothin'.

Contributing to the World's Lexicon

2008-12-05T13:33:00.001-08:00

It's not all fun and baby-making here in fitzlosophy land- from time to time I will still endeavor to solve the world's problems. Case in point, there are many situations that arise for which we have no words. Below, I shall describe some and attempt to name them:

1. Shletz- When you are in the shower, and you realize you have left something, like the soap or shampoo, or other necessary shower-object on your kitchen counter (like you just bought some from the store), and you have to make that mad, drippy, possibly stark naked dash across your house, in a shletz.

2. Porf- When you and another person are on a phone call, and the call drops, and both of you call eachother back at the same time, resulting in a buzy signal or going straight to their message. You both then wait 10 seconds to for the other person to give up, and then both call back again at the same time, with similar results. You have both porfed, twice.

3. Funt- (This one's kinda gross, but we've all been there) You are on the toilet and realize the toilet paper roll is out, but there is a fresh one in the cabinet across the room. You await an alotted time to account for...ahem...drippage, and then complete the awkward lunge (the actual funt) to grab the tissue while trying to leave your rear in vicinity of toilet.

4. Pintle- When you are singing along to a song, usually with great conviction, and you totally sing the wrong part, or come in early, and lamely trail off into silence. You pintled. All over yourself.

So that's all I have for now. I'm glad to add somthing to the world's lexicon, which has given me so much.

Me and Mr. Turkey...We have a thang going on!

2008-11-30T16:19:00.000-08:00

Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone! We had a lovely one with Gavin's family in Fresno. I ate a ridiculous amount of Thanksgivingness, and it was AWESOME. Gawd, I love starchy side dishes. Everyone was very excited about the beanster, and nearly everyone had a guess as to gender. For the record, the predictions are as follows:

Girl Side:
-My Mom
-My Dad
-Gavin's cousin Amanda
-Our 2 year old neice Isabella, who when asked what was in my belly, said "girl", though she may have been referring to me, not the baby. It's a little confusing.
-Kelly
-Anthony (Still not used to calling him that)
-Joy
-Gary
-Tom
-Jen
Boy Side:
-Ash
-Annie (mom of Ash)
-Gav's Mom (though maybe this is just so she wont be disapointed as I know she longs for girl-type)
-Optimus Primate
-Maureen
-Allisony
-Courtney
-David

Feel free to hazard your guesses in the comments section- I will update the standings as your vote comes in so we have a record of who was right and who was wrong, for better to rub in your faces later on. Whee! Gav and I go back and forth on our "gut feeling". We will know for sho sometime in January, so lay your bets now. For the record, I really have no preference at all. I think of both flavors and get equally excited for each.

In other news, Gavin came home late one night last week and I was already asleep. I awoke to him petting my hair. I said "Why aren't you sleeping? It's so late!" He told me I had been having a nightmare and sighing and mumbling in my sleep. "I wasn't having a nightmare," I said. "I was dreaming about cookies." Ahh, pregnancy.

Here's a belly pic, last day of week 13: