Sugar and Spice

Yesterday J had to work all day.  Santa knows these things, and waited a day to come by our place.  While J gave his patients the gift of healthcare, Little One and I went out in the falling snow for some spoiling at my aunts house.  Little One got a doctor set, so that She could give all Her babies and teddies the gift of healthcare also, and we both got treated to good company and an amazing breakfast.
When we got home, we had another big treat, just us girlies.   
Do you know about my baking obsession? Odds are yes.  Odds are I have given most of you at least one or two cavities over time.  I don't know what to say. I need a 12-step cookie program.  It's a sickness.  Some people, when they get stressed, take a bath. Or go for a nice run. Or drink gin out of the bottle. Me? I bake.
Also, if I want to congratulate you, or sympathize with you, or thank you, or apologize to you....I bake.
Butter and sugar are my answer to everything. How perfect that the stress of impending holidays aggravates my affliction to the point that I had dozens and dozens (and dozens) of ready-made gifts for everyone this year!

This is not the worst addiction to have, I suppose.  Not the most unhealthy habit to role-model for my child.  But, it is rather hard on Little One.  Because although She can and does participate by measuring and pouring flours and baking powders, She can't help too much because She can't ever touch the stuff, let alone eat any. So She has to watch me spend all this time doing something that She doesn't get to be a part of.
Until yesterday.  Yesterday we broke out our aprons and an allergy-safe cookie recipe, and for the first time ever did something that I always loved doing with my mom.  We baked cookies, together.
Little One was ecstatic.  After all this sitting on the sidelines, She finally got to be part of the action.  She poured, She stirred, She made little ball-shaped lumps with Her hands.  She tasted! Everything!  The sugar, the raisins, the flour. The baking soda.  Whatever She could.  Because She could.
And at the end, for the first time, She got to perform a sacred childhood ritual.  She got to eat the dough off the beater*.  Heaven!

We got messy and poufed flour everywhere and had a blast.  And of course She got to eat the results of Her work. She could hardly believe Her luck. She kept saying, "This one, mommy, no-no Little One can't have.  No no make itchy momma!  This one my coo-kie! This yummy coo-kie!" 

But it wasn't just for Her. 
We also made our big holiday dinner to share when J got home, and afterward Little One got to choose a few of Her creations to put on the special plate to share with Santa.  She was so proud that She had helped make them Herself.
Which was the sweetest thing about them.  

Magic Fireplace

J had to work all day today.  So we bumped Christmas until tomorrow.  Little One and I were talking about the impending festivities over breakfast this morning. 

Little One: "Today Santa come, Mommy?"
 C: "Yes!"
LO: "Ok!  (goes to the window) Little One wait, here, Santa come."
C: "Oh no, Little One, Santa can only come at night, after we are all asleep."
LO (ponders a minute.  Furrows Her brow.  Shakes Her little curls anxiously): "Oh no, Mommy.  Santa no can come Mommy!  Front door LOCK!"

I explained that Santa comes through the fireplace, so it would be ok if the door is locked.
At first, this caused a lot of concern on Little One's part.  She hid behind the chair and eyed the fireplace suspiciously.  Waiting for strange men to pop through, I suppose.
Once I explained that Santa is special, and only Santa can come through the fireplace, She said "Oooooh! Yeah! O-k Mommy!" and we had everything sorted out. 

I have to admit.  When looking at things fresh, through Little One's eyes, this Santa business is a bit peculiar.  I think She'll forgive it though, when She comes down the stairs in the morning. 

Be Merry

Why I Melted Into A Puddle On The Staircase

After Her bath, I take Little One downstairs to say goodnight to Daddy. 
She wraps Her lilac-scented arms around his neck and kisses him on the cheek. 
She reaches one arm back to me and pulls me in for another kiss. 
Then She squeezes our heads together and commands,  "You, Mommy Daddy, kiss each other together!" 
And we comply.
Keeping Her arms encircled around us, a little huddle on the stairs, She sighs.  It's less a breath than an ooze of delight.  She looks at Her parents, from one to the other. Smiling.
"This, Fam-ly". 

The Effigy

C: "Little One, you get away from there!"

LO drops the gorgeously tempting package back under the tree: "Oh mama! Um...this present mine?"

C: "Yes, it is for you.  But it's a Christmas present.  We can't open it now.  We have to wait until Christmas".

LO: "Mommy, cheek-kiss come soon?"

C: "It will be some more days.  But we have to wait until Christmas, when Santa comes." 

LO perks up: "Santa?!"

C: "Yes, Santa.  When Santa comes it will be Christmas, and we can open all the presents."

LO excitedly runs around to the other side of the tree: "Ok! Ok Mommy! Santa! Just wait Santa mommy? Ok!"

C: "Good.  I'm glad you decided to be pa-"

LO proudly presents the Santa Claus tree ornament: "There Mommy! There go! Santa! HERE! Santa here, cheek-kiss! (grins) Open present now, mommy??"

Matters of the Heart

Today is the anniversary of when I lost Bernice.
It seems strange to consider what a deep scar that loss left in my life, how very important and close to my heart Bernice was, and to know at the same time that she probably never had any idea who I was.  If she's up in heaven, maybe some angel is telling her, "some gal called C down there is saying all kinds of prayers for you today", and she's going, "who?"
Do you have people like that?  People who you care about, who matter to you, and you wonder if they have ever really seen you?  Or someone you've been nice to, or helped indirectly through a friend or a donation, or felt compassion for, or just respected or admired- though they may never have known about you at all?
Sometimes it can almost seem pointless, right? Doing for someone who will never thank you, hurting for someone who can't appreciate the sympathy, giving without a return.  Loving someone who might not love you back.
Or they might.
The not knowing can be difficult ground to walk over.  Does it matter that I'm here? Does it matter that I care?  Is it worth all that's difficult when I can't tell if I'm making a difference?
In little ways, all relationships are a bit like that.  You can always wonder if what you have to offer makes the impact you want to have.  You can always suspect that you're not loved enough, that you care too much, or feel like there's just not enough payoff for how much you feel yourself giving.
Parenting is certainly like that.  Will I ever know, even when She's all grown up and turned out, whether how hard I work mattered, really?  Whether She has any inkling how incredibly much I love Her, how hard I tried to do the right things for Her? Will She end up all messed up despite it all? Will She hate me or blame me or feel I failed Her, despite the fact that I put my whole soul into doing my best?
I don't know.  I might never, never know. 
A scary part about loving someone so much, is you can never get the credit you deserve.  Because maybe it's impossible for anyone to totally get how valuable they are to another person.
Little One can't tell me if I'm doing this mom thing the right way. Bernice was never able to say, "I'm glad you're here."  Most of the people I've reached out to over time...I'll never even know whether they are ok, much less get a medal from them in the mail for Trying Really Hard to be Helpful. 
So does it matter?  Is it worth it?  All this trying and loving and caring and worrying and grieving?
Well...I think so.
Bernice never knew my name.  But I remember a time she was in the hospital, covered in a tangle of wires and tubes in a strange room with beeping noises and flashing monitors, and when I got there she was FREAKING OUT.  The doctor was about to have her both physically restrained and doped up because they couldn't keep her from yanking out her IVs, screaming and swearing, and smacking the nurses when they tried to help her.  She was totally out of control.  But I had this feeling.  "Give me a minute" I told the doctor.  "Just let me see if I can help".  He was hard to convince, saying that she was too delusional to be responsive to anything, but he agreed I could have one minute.  I walked in and put my hand on her arm, and she froze.  I said her name, I talked to her like I always did.  "Hi, Bernice.  It's C.  I'm here to visit you, how are you doing?"  And wouldn't you know. She reached her frail, IV-bruised hand over to clasp mine.  She relaxed back in the bed.  Two tears slid down her gorgeously high cheekbones, and she rested against the pillow.  She didn't say anything back to me that evening. But she held my hand, and she was calm, and after a little while she fell asleep.  I'll never really know why. But I like to think it's because on some level, she knew I was someone safe.  Someone who loved her.
And I think the same is true about our children and our friends and family, and the homeless guy we smile at on the corner, and the kid in Haiti who gets a notebook because we bought some raffle ticket.  I think that even if they don't really know how much we care, or how much we've done for them, or even who we are, they do know that someone cares.  I think on some level we can all feel when we are loved.  Even a little.  Even from far away.
Though Bernice may have never known who I was, and even if I didn't do everything for her the way she would have wanted me to, I think that what I did do mattered because I believe she knew somehow that she was cared about; not totally alone.
And I think that it was all worthwhile because whether it all mattered to her or not, one thing I know for sure is that it mattered to me.  Sometimes when we love in the hardest situations, when maybe there is the least recognition or gratification for our efforts, we learn the most, and are changed the most, and have the best opportunity to realize the value of loving for the sake of loving, giving for the sake of giving.
Today is a good reminder for me of why it matters to love recklessly.  Even when it's easier to be a cynic, even when it doesn't feel safe, and even when it doesn't come back to me.  Even when it means grieving a loss.  Whether or not Bernice ever loved or remembered me, I loved her, I remember her.  And it matters.  Whether or however much Little One loves me when She grows up, I will always have loved her, and it matters.  Even if all of you don't know it, I love you Peanuts in some way as well.  And whether you can tell or not, it is mattering right this minute.  To you, maybe, and definitely to me.

Little One-isms

Now that She's big enough to have both conversations and attitude, Little One is short on neither.  I thought I'd share some of our recent chats that made me smile...

 
Driving in the car with the radio on:
Little One: "Mommy! Mommy 'scuse me Mommy!"
C: "Yes, Little One?"
Little One: (slightly exasperated) "Mommy this muso, turn down.  I'm tryna sing sompin back here!" 


LO: "Mommy.  I like fly. Little One want to fly."
C: "You want to fly in an airplane, or you want to fly like a bird?"
LO: "Bird! Bird Mama tweet tweet! (in her sweetest most cajoling voice) Please?  Pleeeaaase Mommy, Little One fly?"
C: "Well....when you're big, you can fly an airplane, if you want.  OR, you know what?  When you go to sleep, in your dreams you can fly.  You can fly wherever you want, as much as you want when you are dreaming!"
LO: "Oooooh, Mommy! I like this!  Yes!  Little One sleepy, FLY! (zooming her arms around) Fly, FLY! Fly over THERE! Fly up up UP! Around around FLY! ME!"
C: "Yay!"
LO: (turning serious) "Mommy, please, go home now?  Go home fast now please. Need nap!"


LO: "Oh no.  Oh no oh no."
C: "Something the matter, Little One?"
LO: "Yes mommy.  Zashi (a friend).  Zashi, sad."
C: "You think Zashi is sad?"
LO: "Yes! Cried.  Waahh haaa.  Cry, sad (shakes Her head morosely)".
C: "Little One, Zashi didn't cry.  I don't think she's sad, honey.  She's ok."
LO: "Well....I worry."


At the mall:
C: "Oh look, Little One.  Do you see over there? It's Santa!"
LO: (Looking dubiously at the enthroned guy in red) "N-noooooo....."
C: "Yes, I think that's Santa over there! Do you want to go say hi?"
LO: (looking at me like I'm nuts) "Mommy.  This, Santa? No-no.  No-no Santa, Mommy.  This Man."


Little One lines up all Her bath toy animals along the edge of the tub.  She holds an empty cup and goes down the line, carefully pinching something invisible out of the cup and fastening it to each animal.
C: "What are we doing here Little One?  Are you giving something to all your animals?"
LO: "Yes, Mommy.  Life Jacko."
C: "The animals need life-jackets?"
LO: (pointing out all the water in the tub) "Yes, Mommy! Need life-jacko.  Be safe."    


Pushing Her stroller in the living room, stopping and starting abruptly, sighing in aggravation.
C: "Little One, you're walking in an interesting way today. What's going on?"
LO: (smacks Her hand to Her forehead and heaves a big sigh, shaking Her head) "Ooooh.  Traffic."  
C: "Oh, traffic is bad today?"
LO: "Yes! All this cars come, ina way."
C: "Oh my.  Where are you and baby going today?"
LO: "Drive, mommy.  Tryna find par-king". 


And my favorite is that, according to Little One, in our living room we have decorated a lovely "Cheek-kiss Tree".  Muah!

Very Special Relativity

Tonight J is on call and I have been flying about trying to Get Things Done.  After being consumed with Little One and doctors and hospitals I am miles behind on positively everything, and I would love to say that I'm all bohemian and Hakuna Matata about things like the holidays, and grocery shopping, and cleaningandlaundryandpicturesnadcardsandemailsandmenusandbudgetsand about ten thousand other things like that, but I am not.  I am Not. Zen.  There is dust on my baseboards, and it makes me feel a little tight in the chest. Sad, sad.  But true. 
So here I am, checking off my mental checklist (because for heavens sake I'm even behind on writing out my to do list) and chopping onions and the phone is ringing.  And just then.  Little One presses Her fingertips together.  She cocks Her head to the side, and looks up at me with big, big eyes.  She says: "Mamma?  Play? Mommy play with Little One? Please have tea party me?"
 Oh jeeze. The onions are sizzling, peanuts.  People on the phone are talking into my other ear.  The dust in on the baseboards and the dishes are in the sink and I do not have time to sit on the floor and sip air.  I do not.  Except for Einstein. 
Einstein had this little theory you've probably heard of called Special Relativity, which he explained like this: "Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour.  Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."
This is why, I suppose, when you have nothing to do- stuck in an airport waiting out a storm delay for instance- time draaaaags on and the day takes ages to go by.  But when you're busy- chasing after a toddler while on a phone conference and cooking dinner for instance- time flashes by and you wonder where the day went.
I was a science major, Peanuts.  Did you know that? Yep. I know all about Relativity. Which is a good thing! Because Einsteins' little theory there helps me realize that it's precisely because I'm so busy, it's especially when I'm very busy, that it is more important than ever to FREEZE.  Hang up the phone, turn off the stove, leave messes to themselves. And have a tea party.
Because if I have to spend time doing something that makes the days go by way too quickly, it ought to be something that matters.  

We've Been On a Ride

It is crazy how little ones can go from sick to scary so quickly. 
The last week has been an emotional roller-coaster that no theme park can compete with. 
Little One is home now from a brief hospital stay, where there were some very scary words thrown around, and a lot- A LOT- of needles applied to my poor baby. 
But, we are home, she is doing fine, and most of the really scary stuff has been dismissed from her chart and our worried little parent brains.  We have a couple weeks of specialist appointments coming up, and some more pokes, which we hope will end in nothing. 
But in the meantime, J's sister is here cheering us all up a ton, and the AFC event went really well! So there have been some high points on this coaster.
And since, as of today, Little One looks like She's really on the mend for now, we're hoping that we're turning the corner here and coming to a stop.  Which is good, because that ride was starting to make us all feel a little sick, and I'm ready to get off.  Get some ice cream.  And stick to the regular kid-sized rides for awhile. 
Regular, kid-sized posts coming as soon as we shake off the adrenaline rush.   

World AIDS Day

A day to celebrate. Yes. A day to celebrate the fact that we each are so powerful.

So powerful that we can protect ourselves from the virus that causes AIDS.

- only you can decide who to have sex with, and whether to use protection

- only you can decide not to share needles

- only you can make sure you are educated about the facts of HIV/AIDS

So powerful that we can help those who were powerless to do so. 

- Just $5 can help AFC continue giving HIV+ kids who have lost their parents a home, medical care, an education, and a family. http://artistsforcharity.org/new/

- Artists can donate work to be auctioned for the kids

- Those in the DC area can attend the Holiday Fundraiser this Saturday! 

http://artistsforcharity.eventbrite.com/

And so powerful that we can help make the world better for them and safer for others by GETTING EDUCATED and SPREADING THE WORD.

- To give us all a head start on this one, I'm reposting this from last year. Please. Read, think, pass it on.

Things I wish people knew about HIV/AIDS:

HIV and AIDS are not the same thing. HIV is a virus, which can be contracted from another person. AIDS is a syndrome, which is not contagious. AIDS is a set of symptoms which develop after some time if a person does not undergo treatment for HIV. Not everyone with HIV will develop AIDS.

HIV is NOT a death sentence. HIV is now considered a chronic but manageable disease, such as diabetes or hepatitis.

It is, in fact, considered in many cases to be easier to manage than both of those diseases.

People with HIV can live 'indefinitely', and children born HIV positive can usually expect to grow up and lead healthy, relatively normal lives. *as long as they have access to treatment*

HIV is NOT spread through casual contact- such as sharing toys, even toothbrushes, food, dishes, clothes, etc, coughing, sneezing, hugging, kissing, pool or bathwater, or through contact with urine, tears, sweat or spit.

HIV is ONLY spread through sex, breastfeeding, blood-blood contact (almost exclusively sharing of needles), or through pregnancy/childbirth.

With proper medication, pregnancy/childbirth barely makes that list- only a 2% chance of passing on HIV to a fetus/infant with currently available meds.

You are really the only one who can protect you from HIV. You can protect yourself by always practicing safe sex, and by never sharing needles. It is within your power to prevent contracting HIV.

HIV/AIDS is a lot more common than you might think. Statistically speaking, odds are that you know or have met someone who is positive.

People with HIV or AIDS are not a threat to you or to anyone else. Unless you plan on having unprotected sex or sharing needles with that person, it is virtually impossible for you to become infected.

People with HIV or AIDS are people. Really! They deserve to be treated with respect and compassion, as all people do. They deserve to have full lives and rights, as all people do.

The worst, scariest thing about HIV/AIDS in so many ways is not the physical aspect, but the stigma. Many other diseases are much more contagious and much more life-threatening or limiting, and yet HIV continues to carry a huge stigma entrenched in fear and lack of education about the facts.

One of the best things we can all do to help those affected by HIV/AIDS is to be one less person who is uneducated, one less person harboring needless stereotypes, one less person reacting out of fear rather than awareness.

You can get more info at: http://www.cdc.gov/hiv/resources/factsheets/transmission.htm

...hello?

Hi?
Peanuts?
Anyone still left in the gallery?
We're here!
We've been whacked by a succession of holidays, traveling, and illnesses.  Little One has been very busy building up The Immune System of Titanium-Alloyed-Steel.  And I have been very busy supporting Her in that effort.  I mean, literally, I have been underneath the child ALL DAY LONG.  "Mommy hugs please! Mommy, Snuggles!  Mommy tuckies with Little One, no Mommy go!  Snuggles Mommy Pleaaaassse!!!"
All. Day. Long.  And all night. 
At least I saved on the heating bill, having had a 105.9 degree heating blanket constantly glommed onto me.
It hasn't left me much time to get anything done, like housework or blogging or preparing for the big AFC benefit THIS SATURDAY.  Or, you know, showering, eating.  Little things like that.
J has temporarily relieved me, so I thought I'd let you all know that we are alive and may even have actual posts coming sometime.  But in the meantime, I'm on my way back to the electric snuggle-blanket.  I hate when She gets sick!
To tell you the complete truth, though.  Even though it would be nice not to have to perch a small person on the bulge containing another small person while I PEE, I do kind of love the snuggles. 
Better stock up while they last.

Yesterday while we were out shopping, Little One received a nice compliment from a stranger.

Little One: "mumblemumble".

C: "What's that, Little One?  What do you say to the nice lady?"

Little One: "Tank you".

C: "We can't hear you, Little One.  Can you please say that louder?"
 
Little One: "LOUDER!" 

Taking the Trunki to Texas

On the downside, telling Little One about our trip tomorrow (2 cars, 2 trains, 2 planes to Texas) seems to have triggered in Her a desire to continue Her tradition (this will be the 3rd trip running) of getting acutely ill the night before we are to board a train.  Stomach flu on airplanes! Fun! I hope we get the middle seat! Her effort at keeping up Her record was so inspiring that the dog decided to participate by puking all the way down the hall! On the carpet!  Did I mention J is on call tonight! And we are getting up at 5am!  Ah!
Buuuuutt, on the upside.  Little One having known about this trip for two days now has resulted in two days of exponentially increasing excitement on Her part, which has bee really fun. Ok on paper it might not sound that fun... putting away various containers and bags full of toys that She "need bring wif me", listening to "Nana! Nana! Nana go house now!" 500 million times in a day, and having meltdowns in the car on the way home from seeing J because She wants to get on the plane NOW and "no home! no go home! Now go airplane, go go Nana Jaju. No dinner! No bath! Airplane time mommy! You turn right, go straight, airplane go now!"  But it actually is pretty cute.  Especially when She makes up songs about how Nana's house is fun, and we will play and have a smeshal carseat, and trick-o-treat there.  No pressure, mom. 
(At first She was a little distressed that Gramma would not be there also, but consoled Herself by informing me that Gramma will be flying the plane. (?)   I love this age.  I get to dip my toes in another world, and I don't even have to buy illegal drugs to do it!)
Here's hoping the airplane is a good a time as She's expecting.  See ya'll in a couple weeks!

Things I Love

I love:

That Little One calls a Band-Aid a "Band-Owie".  I love it so much, that I let Her have one to stick on Her forehead all day. I love this too.  And the fact that the word "Bindi" only further confuses things.

That She is pushing Her stroller around talking to Her "baby sister".  "Baby sister, come out! Go walking.  Park, playground...fun! Come stroller baby sister! Come with me!" 

That the leaves from the maple and oak tree in my yard are falling so fast in the breeze that it looks, from the corner of my eye, like it is raining.  Red and yellow rain.  A blizzard of color against the kitchen window.

That Little One laughs and dances when She sees them.  And then stops, looks at the deck, and shouts, "Oh no! Mommy! This trees, make MESS!"

Veterans Day

Veterans.  When the commitment you made to Protect takes you away from us- for a short time, or forever- we miss you. 
We sacrifice together. 
But we love you. 
We have faith in you to serve with honor and integrity.
And so we are proud, and we are thankful. 
I'm speaking for myself, and for my daughter who doesn't quite understand yet. 
But I think I can speak for some others, too. 
We fight beside you in our own way. 
And we thank you. 

Dumplins

When J started this current rotation, otherwise known as ICU, otherwise known as H-E-Double Hockeystix, his mom decided to come out for a week to make the descent into the underworld more bearable.  When she came, I was feeling much, much less sick than I had been.  Which is awesome! Because MIL is a Cook.  With a capital C.
What did we do all week, you ask?  We went shopping!  Grocery shopping.  And we cooked. And cooked. And baked.  And cooked.  At one point she had me smashing dead chickens with a mallet. 
Yeah.  She's that good. 
And this is also true: when MIL came I had struggled to gain just 2 pounds over the entire course of my pregnancy.  During the week she was with us, I gained 5 pounds.  In one week! Yeah.  That good.
I have a lot of cute pictures of her with Little One from her visit here, but these are my favorites.  Because MIL is not just a person of various sorts who cooks.  She is a Cook.  She's amazing at it, in part because she puts a lot of love into her cooking. She takes painstaking efforts with details that most rush through, skip, or buy pre-packaged.  Cooking is how she takes care of her family.
I loved these particular moments in the kitchen, because in these photos MIL is teaching Little One to make Her great-grandmother's recipe for homemade chicken and dumplings.  Mixing up the dough, rolling it out and shaping it, stirring the pot...a tradition passed down.  There are a lot of things I hope Little One learned from cooking with Gramma.   How to start at the beginning, do things right, and see them through.  How sometimes the simplest things are the best.  How real is always better than manufactured facsimile.  And how to make something, truly delicious.  So that I don't have to. 

Free Parking

Last week something rare and amazing happened.  J had the day off. !
We celebrated by taking a gorgeous drive through the bright calico leaves to West Virginia, to hike along the C and O canal.  Yes.  Like the one in Monopoly!
We did not see any funny men with handlebar mustaches. But we did see a choo-choo train go across a bridge and into a tunnel! Which was so.awesome. that Little One momentarily forgot how cold She was.  And it was cold.  Almost bitter.  But it didn't stop the dogs from swimming in the river, and it didn't stop the air from being clear and fresh, or the sun from being bright and gilding everything in sight. 
We climbed the rocks and threw shells into the water.  We strolled the tiny town and had hot cherry cider on the terrace.  Where they were so kind as to give us the free service of branding our dog, when he backed into the propane heater.  (If you are from Tucson, AZ, you know that he can now drink at a  bar called the Meet Rack for free! Don't ask me how I know this).
Anyways.  Today I felt...cold.  But also, as I rode home with my doggies and daughter sleeping like angels in the back, and J's hand holding mine tight, and a tiny little person doing somersaults in my belly, I felt Thankful.
For a beautiful day and a lovely earth and a family that is all mine to experience it with.  For snot on my shoulder and slobber on my jeans, mud on my shoes and tiny feet tap-dancing on my bladder.  For sunshine and rock-skipping and hand-holding.

This is our 5th fall in this pretty place.  Our fifth time Passing Go, I suppose.  In between we've paid mortgages and luxury tax and utilities and come a long, long way it seems.  But on the way home from C and O I couldn't help but feel thankful.  We've collected a lot more than $200!  A couple dogs and a child and a half and a pocket full of red-yellow leaves and a Life.
I love this game.

You know.
I have never had a flu shot.
Last year I had the pig flu mist.  Which doesn't exactly count.
This year, I bucked up, caved to pressure and my public health-background-induced guilt and got the shot.
I didn't hurt. At all!
It was a great opportunity to show Little One that I wasn't scared of getting a shot.
But.
:(
Now my arm hurts. 
And.
No one told me it would make me sick.

By the Way...

I have some other posts on the way, but in the meantime I have to interrupt regular programming to make an announcement.  Today was a big day. A  day to wake up early, drink a lot of water, and try really, really hard not to pee for the next 3 hours. 
Ultrasound day! 
We found out some good things.  Like, there really is a baby in there!  And.  It has fingers and toes! It has kidneys and bones!  It likes to rest with its hand on its cheek, like a swooning southerner.  It wiggles and kicks and does A LOT of flipping upside-down and then downside-up.  It smiles! And!
It... is a girl. 
Sisters!  I am super excited because:
1) Girl! I love girl! Tea parties and dresses and trucks! (girls like trucks too) We have had the best time with girl!
2) I feel like J and I have just given Little One, and the new gal too, the best most amazing gift.  As a girl who has sisters, I know how precious it is that these two will have each other.  There is nothing like sisters.
3) I have practically NO shopping to do.  We are ready for this Sister like, now. 
4) To be honest, I was a teensy bit intimidated by the boy thing.  I'm sure I would have (had to) get over it. But now I don't have to!

Yay!   
I'm off to celebrate by making pink cupcakes and bringing them to J at work.  :)

Halloween with Pictures and a Physics Lesson at the End

HALLOWEEN.
I don't even know where to start.  What is the point of this crazy holiday?  Where did it come from? We get all obsessed with the macabre and decorate our houses with dead bodies and dress up like people (if we're pets) or animals (if we're people), like grown-ups (if we're children) or prostitutes and corpses (if we're grown-up) and go around getting high on pounds of sugar with as much artificial-coloring as POSSIBLE, and tell our kids that, oh-all-right-you-can-take-candy-from-strangers-after-all. Or, alternatively, you can throw eggs at their houses.  Just this once.
What the?  Can you imagine moving here from a sane nation and trying to understand what the heck goes on?  Why people are carving faces into large vegetables and erecting styrofoam tombstones in their yards?  This is to symbolize....that we like to play dress up? ...that vegetables have feelings too? ...that we really like gross stuff and CSI is not a big enough outlet for our gruesome obsessions? Or that we just really, really, really want people to give us candy?  Maybe it was created secretly by the dental lobby.  I have no idea.  But we are good, patriotic Americans, people.  So we dress up and we eat pixie-stix and we monster mash whether we get it or not! Especially, now. 
Though this is technically our third Halloween as parents, it's really the first Little One was old enough to participate in. And my goodness.  We Halloweened ourselves OUT.
First of all, I had truly NO idea how much candy comes in when you have a kid this time of year.  It pours in.  It flows like Hersheys left in the car cup-holder.  It floods the basement.  It's amazing.
With all the "fall fun" events we attended, Little One trick-or-treated 3 times before it was even Halloween.  This helped Her to perfect Her technique, so that for the real deal She wobbled up to the front door by Herself, said "tick-o-treat", smiled, said "thank you" and did a happy candy dance (and apparently got extra helpings for cuteness) coming home with a huge haul. 
There were also parties, festivals, street fairs....I tell you.  The costume She picked out got plenty of use.  And plenty of candy.  The best thing about the cow costume, I think - besides the irony of watching Her drink SOY milk in it because of course if She were really a cow She would be allergic to Herself- was that J had a matching one! And needed practically no convincing to make it a father-daughter herd of candy-nabbing cuteness.  I got to take Her to the birthday/Halloween party that day, so J got to take Her for "real" trick-or-treating later while I manned the door.

Every year, we have run out of candy and had to do an emergency run to the store.  There are that many kids around here.  So this year, I double-stocked up.  Aaaannnnd so did J.  I guess we should have coordinated that.  Because not only did we replace almost as much candy as we gave out (due to the happy-cow dance) but we have lots leftover.  Which means that soon, I will have slowly Snicker-ed myself into a cow-like appearance as well.  COME TO MY HOUSE. EAT CANDY.   Please.
The scariest thing I saw this Halloween?  The number of parents who came to my door holding out their purses for a "treat" also.  This is always annoying to me.  But what made it scary is that it was actually legit, because at 14/15 years old,  the parents were still children themselves.  Oh my.
Little One loved all the events in which She got to be a "t-ow", and clearly got into trick-or-treat.  But She had at least as much fun handing out candy to the late teenager crowd when She got back home.
"One, you. One, you. This one? You. Happy Ween welcome!"   This was one of my favorite parts, too.  Because out of each teen too cool to be wearing a costume at all, or wearing something totally gory/horrible/verging on nudity/inappropriate/all of the above, even the ones who sauntered up to the door all swaggery, even the least likely-looking to do it said, "Aaaaw!! She's so cute!" and "oh hi little cutie! Are you a cow? OMG! The cutest cow!" and "Thank you! Widdle baby cowie (insert funny face)." 
This was the epitome of one of my favorite things, by far, about having a child. It's that little children have this energy that bends space-time around them, altering the view of the universe like a subtle shift in the curvature of a camera lens.  So that everything comes into a softer focus and you can see people's Good Side.  Even teenagers! Even under costumes and make-up and masks.  Both real and metaphoric.
I still don't get the "real" origin and meaning of Halloween.  But watching Little One work the crowd of dominatrix devils and axe-murdered zombies made me think that maybe one of the points of this oddball holiday is just to simply remind us that underneath it all, monsters are just the awkward kid with acne in the back of history class.  That whatever we pretend to be, or seem to be....we're really all...just people.   And we pretty much all like chocolate.