A-okay, with D-okay to follow shortly.

A neurologist in Grand Rapids called me unremarkable today. And that's a good thing. An EMG tells us that my nerves and muscles are normal. *Big sigh of relief* Still working on getting my vitamin D levels up to that of normal folks, and hopefully by then I'll be pain free.
The shock and needle thing was weird. I laid on a table watching my hand spasm as small currents of electricity went though my arm. Curious to see my finger move without me telling them to.
Jim wanted to come along to watch his wife become a science experiment, but alas, Labor Law class reading was making demands.

Some responses to recent comments:
Amanda, I picked up my orange tree at Flowerland about 2 years ago. It's only about 2 feet tall. If you have a sunny spot, it's a fun thing to watch grow.

Christina, Jim and I drink a lot of hot tea in the winter. We have about 9 or 10 boxes of tea open, to help deal with the clutter, we bought a shallow basket and store the tea boxes in the basket. Thusly our tea basket was born.

B~, Willa talks. Looking forward to a conversation between her and Rosalie next month.

Agriculture in my office

I've got a small orange tree in my office. It blooms in quick cycles and produces fruit too small to enjoy. I have eaten one orange from it every four months or so, but have never truly enjoyed it. As the tree ages and grows the fruit is reaching larger sizes and sweeter tastes. Sometimes I squeeze it's sour citrus juice into my water. Good little jolt. If you like your eyes to roll back into your head and your tongue to curl.

At the rate we're going, I may have truly edible oranges in 8 years.

Right now I've got 5 orange babies on the tree. They'll mature to about the size of your eyeball.

In 2 months, I'll probably have a tree full of blooms again.

There's something almost magical about stomping snow off of boots and removing mittens and scarf to be welcome by my citrus laden office.

North Country, late autumn

The grey of November has moved in.
It's time to pull out soup recipes, and put away the garden trowel. Flannel sheets on the bed, and find that frost and ice scrapper. I've rearranged the tea basket, and Willa's new mittens are ready.
It's time to daydream about the days living in South Carolina and Georgia. Even DC...
There's something about the drive to hibernate that is tempting.

Getting on my nerves

In the continued quest to figure out why, at random times, my limbs feel like someone slammed a large and heavy dumpster onto them (a dumpster with a lot of sharp edges)... on Monday, I'll go to a neurologist who will put small needles under my skin and send little electric shocks into me. And I'll pay him to do this. Hm...
I hope this will bring some answers, I'm not sure that the vitamin D is making it better. Maybe I need more time with the D?
I'll tell you that this is something that isn't bothering me every day, and when it does it isn't constant. But at it's peak it's more than unpleasant.
Please join me in crossing fingers. Thanks, dudes.

My dad saves the day

"This is Bed Bath and Beyond calling to say that we found the cow finger puppet. If you'd like to reclaim it, it is at the service desk."
Great, I thought, except I'm already in Lansing, and an hour away from the store, and more importantly the cow.
And it was just a $3 finger puppet that we picked up on the way to my parents house, but for Willa it was love at first sight.
"MOOOOO" she bellowed from the backseat of the car, cradling her new pal between her jaw and her shoulder. 2 minutes later she was asleep and drooling on him.
And then we went to buy a shower gift the next morning and, well he got lost.
I called my sister who lives the closest, but she didn't answer. I called home and talked to Brian. He wouldn't be near there in the next week. The manager of the store would send it to me, if only I arranged for prepaid shipping.
My dad called me a minute after I hung up with Brian. He was on his way to get it.
"No, dad. Don't make a special trip, it's just a cheap finger puppet. IF you're near there in the next week or so, you can get it, but really...."
"I'm on my way."
The cow has been picked up. Willa has a new hero, only she doesn't know it yet. I'm looking forward to witnessing a reunion of Willa and her moo, thanks to her super swell grandpa.

A girl, two dogs, and autumn leaves

New entry for top 5 in favorite parenting moment so far

Willa, Jim and I were lying on the floor in her room. Jim pretended he was sleeping. Willa walked to her crib and tried to pull her blanket and Bay-beeeee through the crib slats. I lifted them out and handed them to her. She covered Jim and offered Bay-beeeee to him. He snored. She laughed and started tickling him. He woke up. Over and over until she laid back down and pulled the blanket over her, staying very quiet and still. Jim and I discussed all of the possible locations Willa might be at that moment. She ripped the blanket off of her face yelling "'ERE SHE IS!!" and laughing from her toes. Over and over again. Then it was my turn to sleep. Instead of covering me with the blanket and tucking Bay-beeee into my arm, she launched herself onto my chest laughing. Over and over.
Twenty minutes later we left the room.
This Parenting thing? Totally awesome!

It's oh so quiet...

Yesterday on NPR a fella with a handsome vocabulary was saying that he doesn't want to use a bunch of big words to impress people, but sometimes there's a word that is exactly right and he just has to bring it out, polish it up and put it out there.

Two minutes later, Nancy Pelosi answered Neal Conan's question about what surprised her about the first session as Speaker of the House by saying that she had little use for the word surprise in a role that calls her to be ready for anything.

1) What a great way to answer that question.
2) "... little use for the word..."

This got me thinking -and talking to a coworker/friend (hey Sarah, thanks for the opportunity to explore this)- about use for words in different spheres.

I read this tidbit of awesomeness yesterday too. Oh Andrea at Superhero Journal - I would like to sip tea and make cards with you.

Jim mentioned last night that I've not posted an entry of meaty content here in a while. I kind of blew that off but...

I've been feeling quiet lately. I don't know if it's an autumnal thing, or if I'm not tapped into myself or what I find energetic lately.

Hi, um, Yesterday? What are you conspiring?

I'm going to let this all churn for a while and see what words I have a use for soon.

Willa the Dragonfly

It has been a magical day for Willa. She discovered Tootsie Rolls.

Moved by spirits

Our church celebrated la dia de los muertos (for a primer on "The Day of the Dead" click here) on Sunday. After the mariachi band played*, and during "quiet reflection and prayer" Willa decided to show delayed gratitude for the music by yelling "YAY" and clapping. An 18 month old's "YAY" resounds exceptionally well in a 150 year old sanctuary.

*I love attending a church that lets me type "after the mariachi band played"...

Thanks to Amy in Motown for inspiring me to remember to share this here. See the story of her three year old singing angel here.

happily married 730 days

"I think it was just as sunny as it is today, but not as chilly."

"I don't think you would have felt any cold, no matter what the temperature on that day."

He's right.

Happy second anniversary, Jim.

me -> you, always

The Family bed

This morning I finished brushing my teeth and looked into the bedroom. Jim in his spot, Willa in mine, the dogs curled up at the foot of the bed. Willa's sick and they are all at home. I am at work.
I kissed her on her head, her whispy hair tickling my lips, "bye Willa, feel better and go easy on daddy." She smiled at me, said "Moma," and patted the bed next to her.
This patting is how we invite the dogs up.
So, so difficult to put on my big girl shoes and leave them all there.

Mom and Dad run away from home

We are back from a long weekend away. On Sunday Jim and I left Willa safely and happily with my parents and headed around Lake Erie to Cleveland. Some highlights:

• walking along and across the river with no plan
• sitting in the 80 degree sun
• a quick trip out of our hotel to see the sun set that landed us in Jacob's Field with thousands of Indians fans who saw their team lose the League Championship (we only stayed for the first 3 outs)
• eating room service pizza in bed because we stayed at the stadium too long and every kitchen in downtown Cleveland closes at 9 pm on Sundays
• seeing the original lyrics to "In My Life" handwritten by John Lennon at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
• not needing the backup CDs in the car on the drive in case Jim and I grew tired of talking
• picking Willa back up at my parents - she never cried, and after an hour of watching the Detroit Zoo's polar bear for an hour with Grandma, has a new fuzzy bear to snuggle
• Best thing? Reconnecting with Jim as a partner outside of our roles as parents. This guy I've said "forever" to? So wonderfully perfect for me.

Karma bites

Willa learned a lesson in what goes around comes around. Her daycare report from Friday:
"Willa tried to take a phone from one of her friends. She got bit on her left hand."

I love a rainy night

Last night we were at a visitation for Jim's sister's husband's mom. We were all standing around the outside of the Howard City church watching the skies saying things like, "looks like it went right past us." Inside, I was thinking where one would hide from a tornado in Howard City.

Hours later, Jim and I were enjoying some quiet reading time. I heard Willa starting to stir and cry just a little. I went to her crib, and she was sitting up, watching the lightening through the window. Her brow was almost touching her nose, she was so concerned. "Woah." I laid her down and said it was a thunderstorm and she was okay. "Woah, mama, woah." Seconds later she was back to sleep, snuggling her stuffed bunny.

... not as fluffy as normal

I walked in to Willa's room and the afternoon care provider jumped up to get a paper. She did this the day before and I had to sign for the knowledge that Willa bit one of her friends:
Willa was playing with a ball. Her friend tried to take it. Willa bit her friend. I told her that biting friends isn't nice.
Uh-oh, I thought.
Instead, this is what I got.
"Willa did something funny today."
I eye my daughter suspiciously, she's in her backup outfit. Did she paint herself? Pour milk all over her front?
"She took off her own diaper. I went to pick her up and her bottom was really wet, and not as fluffy as normal. And then I noticed that one leg was a lot thicker than the other. She took off her diaper and stuffed it down the leg of her pants."
I am still trying to figure out the logistics of this. She was in a one piece romper that snaps around the legs (my delicate way to avoid the word crotch- oops). So... how did she undo her own diaper and then stuff it down a leg? The world may never know.

bent limbs on the family tree

My dad's dad's dad had the largest rhubarb farm in Wayne County. This I knew, but when he was talking about it Saturday he started a sentence off when "when we lost the farm..." There's a story to be told.

My mom's mom's dad was a bootlegger and ran homebrewed beer in the car with my young grandmother sitting on the seat on top of it. His wife died very young, and the paperwork says her bowels were punctured by a chicken bone.

Jim-ness

This fella is 40 today.

Jim, full of kindness and laughs and integrity and creativity.

Jim got an "A" in his first Master's class, and does more dishes than he should.

Awesome dad, Jim. Bather of dogs, fixer of lamps, reader of everything, Jim.

My life is enriched by his partner-hood. I love him, Jim.

Happy Birthday.

1 year old

Happy 1st Birthday, Blanco de Sinki.

Sinkis in the Morning

6:30 am Willa starts stirring

6:40 am Jim gets up, brings Willa into our bed

6:42 am Willa turns toward me and kisses me on the lips

6:42.5 am Willa won't go back to sleep unless her lips are on my lips. And she's still coughing.

6:43 am Feeling grossed out that my sick daughter won't stop kissing me on the mouth, try to roll over, blocked by dog.

6:44 am Grateful that Willa is distracted from my lips and is now picking her nose. I doze.

7:02 am Alarm sounds

7:50 am All of us are still in bed playing and giggling, wishing it was a Saturday morning

Gettin' a jump start on the terrible twos

Well, it's happened. Against our wishes, Willa went and became an illogical toddler.
Last night we were having a pretzel snack. When I handed her one from the bag she looked at it and yelled "NO." She has never yelled "no" at me before. Greta and Arlo, hot on her heels, after her cheese? They get a stream of "NOs" followed by a hug with the cheese dangling in their face and a giggle. My "NO" was in direct response to the pretzel - the last one in the bag - being broken.
I've heard about this, but thought they were the child rearing equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle - just a little caution mythology, a little hyperbole about "those crazy kids."
Turns out those kids really are crazy.

My work review was 3 hours today. I am exhausted, but pleased. I am a good little worker bee, and have the paper to prove it.

Like standing naked in a mirror

Performance Evaluation tomorrow at work. Though I do my job, and do it well, I'm nervous. I've been here for 3.5 years, but this is the first review with a different boss.

Movin' to the country?

We were discussing how this has been the season of farm animals for Willa. Visits to the State Fair, the petting area of the GR zoo and Binder Park, and now the Post Family Farm have put Willa face to face with more farm animals than cats or dogs. Do you have a goat? 'cause we'll come over to your house, put a quarter into the food dispenser and feed it while petting it. Jim said she's going to want all these farm animals.

On the way home from the last outing (which was billed as a family trip to the pumpkin patch) Jim started musing about opening something similar but better ourselves. I think he wants a pony for his birthday.

Hmmm... look for Camp Sinki sometime soon. You'll find pumpkins, and concerts, and Sunday brunch, and a roadside produce stand, and a summer camp. And goats. In the interest of full disclosure, this is a Binder Park goat (last weekend) not a Post Family Farm goat (this past weekend).

This is what 18 months looks like

Today Willa is a year and a half old.

Can't enjoy cider in shorts

It's October. It's 80 degrees.
I'm enjoying the extended garden season. Our late start watermellon might have a chance. Our beans are awesome.
We have strawberries.
I'm pretty sure we're doomed as far as the whole global warming thing goes.

It's not easy being green

We're still getting over a round of stomach flu and poor Willa's had a cold on top of it. With me not feeling very lively, I've been relying on a lot of quiet, sitting still activities: coloring, books, and dvds we borrowed from friends of the Muppet Show.

Willa is suddenly obsessed with Kermit the Frog. He's on the screen and she's riveted and squealing. He's off the screen and she's calling for her, "er's da frggg? (that's "Where's the Frog" for those of you who don't speak toddler).

She woke up at 5 this morning coughing so much I got her and we sat on the couch for a little while. Suddenly she was wide awake and pointing at the tv asking for da frggg.
"He's sleeping."
"Frggg nite-nite?"
"Yes."
She snuggled in and dozed off.

News from the East

My cell phone rang last Friday as I was leaving the office. I could tell by the way he said "hi" that there was news.

"How are you?"
"Well... not so great"
"Aw, geez, I'm sorry."
"... they want me to start on Tuesday!!!"
He got me. For a teeny tenth of a second.

Remember that job that you were pretty sure was killing anything good about you? The one that made your brain turn to mush, and more painfully pulverized your heart too? My brother has been teaching at a charter school that did not seem to have their students at the top of the priority list. There were 35 kids in his class this year. All boys. 6th grade boys. And a whole list of bad bad things that add up to this not being a place for any student or teacher, especially one fresh out of school himself with all these ideals...

Yesterday my brother probably sat his 1st graders down and started to learn their names and they might have talked about the calendar and addition. There will be challenges, but there will be support. And he is happy.

We were both crying as he gave me details on Friday. Sweet freedom. Sweet renewed purpose.

Completely unrelated, I forgot to mention and a comment reminded me. The red jumper Willa's wearing in the previous photos? I made that. Me and my sewing machine and several swear words. I made it for MaKenna, and now Willa's enjoy the hand-me-down.

frying pan... fire

Willa does not have croup, and her coughing has been less violent since Saturday. I suspect it was a cold with a side order of stomach bug...
We went to Battle Creek for Jim's work on Saturday, and tagged on a trip to Binder Park. It was a great trip, and the park/zoo is pretty cool. Willa got a cracker to feed the giraffe. I guess I should have explained to her that it wasn't for her, because when that 16 inch black slimy tongue reached out and took it from her hand, she had a melt down.
While at the zoo Jim started feeling bad, and blamed it on a bad choice of Burger King's breakfast. On the way home, I got to hear my husband toss his cookies for the first time. At 2:30 Sunday morning I started. The stomach flu hit us, and then kicked us, and then spit in our faces. I was out of bed for a total of 20 minutes yesterday.
Today everyone is back to day care/work, but still feeling kind of dazed and sore.

Bad night.

Karma reminded me that I was not in charge last night again. We did everything we could to ensure that Willa was fed, bathed, loved on and tucked in before 9 pm when The Office started. This is my one TV vice. When I got Willa in her crib without a fight, I was feeling might proud of team Jim and Amy.

And 45 minutes into the show when I heard her coughing, and then crying it all came crashing down. Good thing the VCR was set. Yes, VCR - we don't do the Demand/Tivo or any other fancy schmany recording of shows. This is how much we think tv is must see, I guess.

She threw up. In her crib, on the blankets, on me, on the bathroom floor.... more than once. Jim took to the couch and Willa and I hunkered down in bed together. When she wasn't coughing, she was churning next to me, like a river otter playing in the water, or a hot dog on the gas station grill. Around and around and around. Little feet digging under my back, little hand slapping my cheek.

And in a gleam of true Willa spirit, she woke up at 4 am, coughed enough for me to nervously grab "the bowl." Then she giggled and started calling for Alro to join us in bed.

So, I'm at work, and the report from nurse Jim is that she's coughing a lot less today. Hoping she didn't catch the croup - there's a sign on her daycare room door declaring that someone has been home with that this week. It's like a centuries old town with a warning on the gate that the plague was there.

Tree hugger

Hoping that she'll love nature: walks in the woods, watching bugs, listening to the crunch of squirrels skittering over pine needles, the textures of pine bark, fallen acorns, sand.

Daddy and Daughter love

Watching these two fall in love, every day, is the mom equivalent of asking for, and receiving, a pony at 7 years old.

I am a lucky, lucky woman.

Baby love.

Last night we went to dinner with friends at Chez Fazzolis (think McDonalds of spaghetti). Their daughter Julia is 11 months old and taking her first steps. This makes her 10 times more interesting to Willa. I'm excited about watching them hang out as pals in the coming months.

When we got home Willa got a bath. Baths are harder now that she's interested in sitting on the toilet. I find myself lifting her from the tub to her potty seat so many times that I end up drenched. After her bath, she gets a sippy cup of milk that she drinks in our bed while we read books to her. Last night she gave the sippy cup to her baby doll (mom and dad, she loves this doll, good job), first putting the opening on the baby's eye, and then moving it to the baby's mouth... all the while singing, "baeeee-beeeee" over and over.

Possibly evil bears and my wonderful Jim

So Saturday we completely overdid it: Truck Convoy (explanation and photos for another day), Eastown street fair and a birthday party for a 4 year old nephew.

At the birthday party nephew Matt handed me a teddy bear with the warning that "he might possibly be evil. He has red eyes," and then walked away. David, the birthday boy, was checking people into the house with "Hi! Did you bring me a present?!" I told him that we brought him a can of sticks, which Tinker Toys really are. John, the 8 year old nephew was caught between trying to impress his 16 year old step-cousin and doting on the little ones. Willa emptied the hosts garage of all balls, and pushed her self a la Flintstone on a tricycle. The other nephew and niece, who we don't see nearly enough hovered near their mom and dad.

On Sunday I woke up and knew it wasn't going to be a good day. I ended up horizontal for most of the day and watched the clock for the next dose of Tylenol. I'm hoping my next dose of D will bring progress in the leaky muscle world.

I felt irritated/frustrated/guilty as Jim cleaned the house, did laundry, made dinner, cared for Willa, and did yard work. Just before lights out I let him know how grateful I was (no perverts, not in that way):
"Thanks for taking care of me today."
"I'd make a good wife, wouldn't I?"
"You'd make a good Ann B. Davis as Alice. (hilarious laughter) I am very, very luck to have you as a partner."
"Keep that in mind the next time your frustrated with me, okay?"
"I know, all day I kept thinking, how can I get SO MAD at this wonderful man sometimes."
We laughed. No Twizzlers.

Today I'm feeling much better. Of course: at my desk I feel good. On a beautiful Sunday: not so much.

Is working outside in the sun a reasonable accomodation?

I wrote the following a month ago, but didn't publish it. I wasn't sure what was going on with my body. I didn't want to post this to worry people, or ask for any sympathy or advice. I wasn't going to put it up here at all. Then I remembered, I don't really write here for the benefit of a reader. I write here to keep an account of what's going on in our lives. And this was something that affecting me and my family.

written 8/24 embargoed until more info is provided
I just got a spam email that had the subject line "It's all right. I can take it."

And for some reason, this email (with the contents promising for a larger "member" in days with a magic pill) was more comforting to me than Jim's greatest attempts at consolation last night.

"It's all right. I can take it."

My body is doing something weird right now. My muscles are leaking enzymes. Apparently everyone's muscles are a little leaky, but mine are extra leaky. We found this out when I told the fantastic Dr. B that my muscles were sometimes pained in a way I can only describe as weird shooting crampy dull industrial rubber bands around parts of me. And sometimes the rubber bands are pointy. Sometimes it lasts 20 minutes, sometimes only a few seconds. Mostly it's in one limb at a time. Sometimes it happens several times in an hour. Sometimes it takes a few days off. So, we did blood work and my CK level came back high (150something). She ordered another round of blood work and it got to 176. I didn't really know what any of this meant, so I did some online research and proceeded to have the pants scared off of me by a list of diseases that are diagnosed with an elevated CK level.

By the way, when capri's came out, I swore I would never wear them. Now most of my summer pants are at least cropped. Damn fashion trends.

This week (8/20) has been difficult, as my whole body is achy. It might be totally unrelated to my extra leaky muscles, but last night I got scared by the "what if" parade (including floats from ALS and MD, as well as the Lupus high school marching band).

And poor Jim. Well, what with all that testosterone, he went into problem solvin' mode. Very sweetly saying things like, "Why worry now? We don't know what it is. All this worry isn't going to make you feel better."

He's right. My brain knows that. But I needed a little window to sneak into a pity party. And again, all that maleness didn't get that all I needed was a hug. And a box of tissues.

But this invisible spammer sends me a virtual chill out.

And he's right. It's all right. I can take it.

And now for the latest info (written on 9/21)
I saw a Rheumatologist on Monday and he ordered more blood work. The results came back and I got a phone call to say that my Vitamin D levels are very low (most folks have a count of 30, mine is 13). This would account for the pain and the pain accounts for the elevated CK. In this round, my CK is back down to 158 - good news. I am taking a prescription strength D supplement, and trying to soak up the sun as much as possible. I've spoken with my Dr. who told me that this isn't related to my vegetarian diet. I go back for a check up in 6 weeks.

If the answer is this easy, I am a lucky girl. Big breath in, and a giant PHEW out.

The case of the missing clothes

I've noticed we're really short on Willa's sock supply, and doing the laundry didn't really help. Then I caught her! Ms. Willa has been taking her socks off, putting them in the Diaper Champ, and flipping the handle (so the socks fall into the bag with the dirty diapers. Who knows how long this has been going on?I suspect we've lost a shirt or 2 this way too. Might be time to retire the Champ.

A few more photos from the Garden

Nature sure is doing a good job being showy at this time of year.

I've got her back

On Saturday evening we were near the mall, so we went in search of shoes and tights for Willa. Like most malls, this one has a kids play area. At this particular mall, kids crawl and run and run amok over giant foam likenesses of breakfast foods. It is unnerving to see my daughter crawl over bacon, but she was having a blast.

"Can you believe our daughter is old enough to play here?"
"Yeah, but she's doing great. It's amazing that no one is falling down, or getting knocked down."
"I know. But some of the bigger kids are getting too close. I'm keeping a mental list of which ones to trip as they walk past."

Other generations

My mom was here Friday and Saturday. Her visits leave me exhausted and refreshed at the same time. It's really nice to have her here to be able to see Willa in her natural habitat, and I like taking her around places in what is now my town. We kept each other up into the wee small hours of Saturday morning talking in the living room. When we finally said, "okay we should get to bed" for the last time, she climbed the stairs (yay for the new knee!) and I got into bed and hugged Jim tight. I wanted to wake him up so I could tell him how grateful I was for him, for our daughter, for our time together.

Mom was carrying photos of her parents that her cousin gave to her at his dad's funeral. The first was of my grandpa, striking a pose with one knee bent, his hand pulling up the cuff of his pants, flirting with the person behind the camera. Before he was a grandpa, this man had a cocky smile full of mischief. The other photo was my grandma, posed leaning against a car, she's wearing what looks like a service uniform with a wide belt cinching the jacket. Her smile is bright, and her eyes smile too.

They are both gone now. How wonderful it would have been for them to meet my family. For Willa to play with Tinker Toys in their back room. For us to eat cheese popcorn and drink diet Faygo while golf was murmuring on the tv in the background.

I wish I could hug Jim and Willa firmly enough to pass on a mutual introduction to them. Kind of like a phone line: "Grandma and Grandpa, this is my husband. This is my daughter." I wish they could know each other.

My mom, Willa and I went to the Meijer Gardens Saturday. Willa and her Grandma played hide and seek.

The night before we all went to Little Mexico for dinner. I jokingly put this sombrero on Willa before we left. She wouldn't leave it at home, and then insisted on wearing it into the restaurant. After some frowns from the staff at Little Mexico I whispered to Jim, "please take that thing off and hide it."

Happy 36th Anniversary to my parents. Mom and Dad, thanks for geting married and being a great example of a wonderful relationship. Love you.

My past on the doorstep

Me, circa 1997 showed up on my doorstep last week in a Fed Ex box.

I had been in college for four years and still unsure of where I was headed professionally. I was active (maybe too active, my transcripts will show) in the volunteer program that year, and was curious about Americorps. I ended up on an airplane that landed in Charleston, SC in August of '97. I was a member of the Americorps*National Civilian Community Corps. That * is important. It's a government program, and it's in all of the literature and it was on my uniform, so * it is.

As a Corpsmember, I was on a team of 12 other folks aged 18-24. Our campus was on an abandoned Naval Base where the border patrol trained (imagine the ideological differences that came up in a common cafeteria where do-gooder hippie-types ate next to guys who wore t-shirts with the cartoon of a sombrero wearing mouse running from uniformed man and shouting "Andale!"). We did service projects in the realms of the environment, human safety, disaster relief, education, and other unmet human needs (again, government lingo). We served the SE region of the US. It was a great experience during which I learned how to frame a house, identify and kill specific invasive plant life on a National Seashore, spell Florida correctly (no kidding, I am a terrible speller) while tutoring 4th graders on their spelling lists, and pack for a two month trip on 20 minutes notice.

I made some great friends who were my travelling family. We were like the Partridges - but with hammers and shovels instead of guitars and drums - travelling the country spreading idealistic cheer and doing good works. Some of my old teammates were at our wedding. Some wanted to be but couldn't make the cross country trip. Some I've lost touch with, and I'm okay with that. At that time in our lives, the team was very important; we lived, travelled, and worked together, that leads to overexposure that will either lead to homicide or life long friendships.

So, back to the FedEx package. The Charleston campus is closing, leaving 3 or 4 other bases active in the country. The closing is somewhat mysterious, and when I questioned staff, they couldn't say much. I'm not sure they know much. In a room on the campus were probably thousands of binders. And in each binder was a portfolio that a team made when a project was completed. Someone from the Charleston campus unexpectedly sent me the portfolio from our project at a Charleston elementary school. In it are our reflections about our 2 months there, photos of our team with the classes we worked with, an Internet training manual for teachers, designed by 2 teammates who weren't excited to work with youngin's.

I had written about Marcus, the 4th grader who wasn't doing well in class, but not doing poorly enough to qualify for special ed. I remembered being very touched by the pride he developed in himself as we worked together. I wrote about his smile when he told me he scored an A on a test.

All of these people in my life who have helped shape me: like a river forming its banks. I'm remembering, I'm grateful. The portfolio reminded me to get more active in my community again. It reminded me of how I've grown in the past 10 years. It's spurred me to send out some emails to old teammates...

"... remember when we couldn't afford to go home for Thanksgiving, so we ate Thanksgiving dinner at an Irish pub? ... when we swam in the Atlantic 2 weeks before Christmas at night and walked back to the bunkhouse singing carols? How are you old friend? Where are you? Just a note to say I'm thinking of you on this 10th anniversary of our meeting, and smiling."

My crush

I parked my car in front of her room's window when I went to pick her up at the end of the work day yesterday. She was just getting up from her nap in the cot under the window. I watched her stand up, her little head bobbing in and out of view. Then she turned around to look out. She saw me and her smile held the energy of a flock of birds leaving a field together. Big, strong, overwhelming. And we both waved with giant grins. We could have done that all evening long.

I'm going to pick her up again in a minute. One of my favorite parts of the day. She'll see me at the door and run to hug my leg. Gotta go...

shoes, tragedy, and love

Early in the afternoon, I was on the floor of Kohl's with Willa, feeling silly that 6 years after a national tragedy that rocked all of our psyche's, my biggest worry at the moment was finding her shoes that fit that didn't have Dora or Disney princessness all over them. Willa, of course, was partial to the pink sparkly ballet slippers, "SHOES! mama! SHOES," she yelled as she tugged off her socks.

Six years ago I was in a room with volunteers and staff at Habitat for Humanity who happened to be from the Mid-East, listening to discussion about exercising caution when out in a small southern American town. Then I packed and drove a 12 passenger van to Indianapolis to participate in the Habitat anniversary celebration, and to drive home my co-workers stranded by the chaos of air travel. I remember sitting in a hotel room, finally alone and processing what had happened, watching the news anchors talking about finding survivors in the wreckage with tears streaming down my face. "Hope-hope, Hope-hope" was the sound of my heartbeat.

Also yesterday...

"Can I interrupt for for a few minutes?"
"What for?"
"Well, I want to talk about a fear that I had today."
[This is where I should have waited for an affirmative, but didn't.]
"You know that I would really like to be a stay at home mom. But after today, I'm not sure I could do it. I mean, she cried for 2 hours straight. At the end of the day, I feel defeated and exhausted. I need you to tell me that it was so hard because she was home sick, and extra crabby. I need to hear that I'd be a good stay at home mom."
Jim looked at me and took a deep breath in. "Knowing the kind of person you are, I think you'll be a great stay at home mom. You'll plan trips to the library and the gardens and the orchard. I don't think you'll be the "watching soap operas while the kids play" kind of stay at home mom. You probably won't even at home much."
I sat at the table crying from the generosity of his affirmation.
"And your headache probably didn't help much either."
"Well, it did feel like it was going to explode most of the day."
"Now, I love you, but get out, I've got to study."

From the daycare report

"Today we colored with multicultural markers for family week." Now, I'm all for a more inclusive society, and am glad to see "flesh" renamed. Kudos to Crayola for bundling a bunch of shades of brown markers together in the name of diversity.

How do I know today's daycare report before the end of the work day?

Willa's on my lap with a 101 fever and glassy eyes. Early pickup and I'm trying to get some things done before leaving for the day.

It's not all sunshine and cupcakes...

Willa's on the cusp of making one nap a day her normal practice. Until she's made up her mind, I'm pretty sure she's going to be awful. We are in nap pergatory right now.
She had one hour long nap yesterday, instead of two - hour long naps or one -90 minute. When we got home from daycare she started crying. She cried through eating a few things for dinner (I think she ate half of a cheese stick, 3 tablespoons of yogurt, and 8 blueberries, ignoring everything else). She cried while we played. She stopped crying long enough to laugh so hard she snorted. She cried and screamed while I gave her a bath. She screamed while she was lying with me, some books, and her sippy cup of milk. She screamed while she crawled on top of me, kissed my nose while hugging my neck. She screamed while I quietly sang in her ear and rocked. I put her to bed screaming at 7:14.
Jim came home at 7:15 (I put her to bed early, knowing that she was just very, very tired). He picked her up and brought her back to our bed. And she stopped screaming. They read and hugged and she asked for me. We all laid in bed for a few minutes while she finished her milk, and I put her in her crib, where she half-heartedly cried herself to sleep.
My brain was completely fried, and I watched TV all night. A terrible waste of so many hours of Willa-free time, but necessary.

No, it's "brushed her hair back from her forehead."

When we were getting to know each other, I was at what was then Jim's bachelor pad listening to Paul Simon. He was singing along and sang the wrong lyrics. So, so, so wrong that I thought he was trying to be intentionally funny.

Last week, I was picking CDs to take with us in our travels and put Paul Simon on the pile, smiling, but not remembering the song or the lyric.

We were heading east with the dogs in the back seat next to a head bobbing Willa, when Jim started singing "Graceland" louder with a smirk on his face:

"As if I didn't notice, as if I didn't know myself. As if I didn't notice the way she brushed her hair back and farted."

We laughed, Willa laughed, we ate Twizzlers.

Note: it appears as though I've heard the lyrics wrong all along too - for a peek at the real lyrics (and chords for y'all with a music streak), go here.

Dangerous play

Dora and Elmo are making kids sick, and now Barbie's in on the action. Today Mattel announces a third toy recall;Barbie's dining room set has too much lead in the paint. There are a few other toys that were added to the list, so if you're a parent, or someone who buys toys for kids, take a peek at the link.

Over the summer a wave of distrust over Chinese products hit American shores. Tainted dog food, human food, toothpaste, and toys, all made cheaply so we can take our SUVs to Wallmart and buy our necessities for a good price.

There is anger and distrust and threats to boycott products from China. Reading labels on products shows just how difficult that will be. Retailers and shoppers are in for a difficult Christmas season. To avoid a massive recall, THE toy of the year might have to be a pet rock: but big enough to not be a choking hazzard, and harvested from organic fields in Nebraska.

Here's my proposed solution: buy less toys, no matter where they're made. Last night 2 empty and cleaned out yogurt cups kept Willa busy for hours. I know we're not yet at the age when branding invades her mind. She doesn't yell about how our breakfast cereal NEEDS to have Dora marshmallows, and doesn't mind that our band aids don't have a character on them either. I know this will happen, and when it does, you'll find me here asking for strength - and maybe rationalizing that the Disney princess underwear actually might help potty training go smoother. Please call me on it then, okay?

I'm all about Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs for her next gifts - anyone know where those are made now? If it's China, I'm going to hedge my bets and only let her play with scissors and sharp sticks.

Even at 32, I got nervous to show my parents...

It wasn't so much that I needed as I wanted another hole in my head. And so on Saturday I got my nose pierced. Jim and Willa came along. Does anyone remember the Sesame Street song "One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just doesn't belong..." That was us in a tattoo and piercing shop. Though, I've earned my bad ass stripes - I have a tattoo, I can do shots of whiskey (though lately just one would probably make me sleepy) I've given birth.

So, I have a pierced nose.

My mom asked why. I've been thinking about this for a while now. In 1992 I was voted "most likely to get a nose ring" in our band's mock elections. [This is just how dorky my roots are. Band. Mock Elections.] So, really it was Manifest Destiny, though it's a stud and not a ring - a point that gives edge to free will. I'm typically not what one would call patient, but 15 years is a long time to ponder a piercing. I had a vision of Willa having someone come in while I was on my death bed to "freaking pierce her nose already! She's talked about it forever!" And I decided it was time.

To celebrate decisiveness and action we went to my brother in law's "it wasn't a heart attack, but it was a scary wake up call" party, visited with my parents and uncle Brian, and went to the Michigan state fair.


Here MaKenna guides Willa's hand to pet the baby duck. "Duck" was the first word that both of them ever said.






Willa with her Grandma and Grandpa P. I promise that out of the 3 photos I took of this moment, this is the best one of all 3.


Our backyard terrace project - only you can prevent soil erosion. It's done enough for us to consider it done for now. Well... after some wood chips. And maybe some more plants. And stairs next to it would be nice...


Note: at the end, I realized I still hadn't answered my mom's question of "why" here. The very basic answer I gave her was, "because I think they're pretty."

Episode #204, a very special Sinki

You know when Family Ties celebrated episode #200 (or something) with a show that was basically Alex P. Keaton sitting in the kitchen musing and we got to see a bunch of great clips from past episodes? Lazy writing.

But I'm going to do the same for post #204 at Blanco de Sinki, and here we are:

First photo posted on first entry 10/13/006

Dog incident of Dec. '06

Lessons learned last night:Anemone bulbs are toxic to dogs.Hydrogen Peroxide forced down their throats makes dogs throw up.A lot. Everything. Maybe even parts of their eyeballs.Jim and I are a good team in a crisis. Dogs are okay.Willa watched the whole thing while laughing and dancing in her doorway jumpy seat and turning a solid teething cookie into plasma.

On motherhood, January '07

Hey, look. I'm such a mom." "Did she spit up on your shirt?" "Nope. That's snot."

Her first "wow" March 22 '07

The damp spring air swept her cheeks while she heard the cardinals in the trees and saw water dripping off of the roof. She looked at me and said, "wow."Sigh. I'm in love.

On dogs in public buildings, June 11, 2007

"I don't understand why people with tiny dogs feel that they have an all access pass for their animal. I mean, we could stuff Greta into one of our suitcases on wheels with her head poking out, and take her with us everywhere, but we don't."

Finally, one out take from the photos that got edited out:

Tune in Tuesday when the writer of Blanco de Sinki returns from vacation.

Final photo show from weekend

One final photo set from our weekend. Can you see the joy and freedom in Willa's head flung back enormous grin? If you noticed a change in the speed of the earth's rotation on Saturday, you can blame us. Willa had this duck moving so fast I started making mental notes about preparing for baby teeth lost to contact with a concrete duck head. Or figuring out where the nearest hospital might be in the event that she catapulted herself over the rocking duck and over the cottage and into the lake a few hundred yards away.

I've been holding onto this photo, awaiting the go-ahead from my mom. We were at their cottage and, to my knowledge, this is the first time some one's stayed there without them there as well. I have 3 siblings, and a peaceful heart. Lisa, Bill, and Brian: ask nicely and see what happens.

Okay, really? One more photo:

Disclaimer: Blancodesinki receives no payment from Li'l Willies, nor should this photo be taken as an endorsement for this particular company in your porta pots needs.

More weekend photos

She found a large stone and used it to dig up sand at the surf (is that the correct term for where the water meets the shore?). There was another dog at the beach. Apparently Greta and Arlo are guarding their Willa. 2 minutes later, the other dog was romping with Greta through the water like they were reunited sorority sisters. We stoped at a small preserve at the side of the road and saw water lilys and minnows. This is where Willa learned "windy." The late August storms and other weather have given us a good language lesson.

If Jim were running for office, we'd put this on campaign material. Here he's a man with a plan, a sunny future, and a cute kid.

Retreat!

Are you from Michigan? If so, take out your "handy" MI map (for those of you not from MI, we're not nicknamed the mitten state for nothing) and look at the middle knuckle of your middle finger. That's where the Sinkis retreated for the weekend. It was only 3 days, but I feel like we were gone for days and days. I am relaxed, Jim is relaxed, we are reconnected. Sunshine and water and ice cream was enjoyed copiously.

Every so often we all run dangerously close to the "taking things for granted" line, and the weekend brought us far away from that. Sigh. It was blissful.
















Willa entertaining herself on the ride up. This photo will go in the "to embarrass her later" file.


More pictures to follow.

I'd be a good carrot farmer.

I've been on the road a lot for work this week. A drive to Battle Creek on M-37 gave me hills, curves and roadside corn stands. Yesterday I drove to Southfield. It's a ride I do often, and I've become oblivious to most of the scenery. Instead I was rewarded through the air waves of the radio.
There was a story about a couple in their 80's who have been running a summer camp for ever. The focus of the story was on how much the kids enjoy the simple camp food. I called Jim excited about the possibility of starting a summer camp. He wasn't very interested.
That's fine, like Jim, campers aren't likely to be interested in a the Thai Basil Eggplant dish I had hoped to make last night.
Still searching for the gleaming answer to my gifts, interests, and time. Carrot farming always appeals to me when I'm feeling like I'm in a rut.
Today I am grumpy and sore. GRRR.

Look, there's a barefoot kid, lying on the floor

Wednesday night I met a friend for dinner. A child who looked like Willa joined us.

And then the child who looked like Willa insisted on not sitting down, growled at me when I tried to stop her from taking off her sandals, laid on the floor on her back and checked out her toes. I forgot that I was dining with the slowest eater in the history of eating (sorry Beth, but I think you'd claim that title, right?). When it came time to pay, I found that I had left my wallet in the diaper bag from the concert outing. Gaia let me pay with a check. We got home and Willa was back to herself. I sighed with relief and my bra strap broke. We read books, she drank milk, she fell asleep with her baby doll snuggled under one arm.

I am hoping that every Wednesday night of Jim in class won't be like this.

2 accordions, 2 cuties, and Jim to school

Sweet Julia and Willa (and Willa's bangs) at their first concert together.

Last night we met up with Heather, Jenny, Joe, Julia, and Jenny's sister, put 3 blankets together and watched some great local bands. Any band with 2 accordions is okay in my book.

Today Julia is 10 months old.

Also today Jim starts Grad school. As we parted ways in the driveway, I noticed he was extra dressed up (and lookin' good). He was so precious getting on the school bus with his backpack and lunch box.

She can see clearly now

"So... does this count as her first hair cut?"
"I think so."
"But it's just the bangs."

Keeping up with milestones can be exhausting. When, exactly does it count as a first tooth? When you see a teeny white dot break through the gum, or when it seems to be settled? Does the first step before a tumble to the padded bottom count as walking, or is it when 5 steady steps are put together? Do other parents feel this, or is it just my desire to remember everything accurately? As I write here every day, there are whispers behind me: "don't forget, you don't get this back." And so more detail, more photos, more snippets of our life together.

As you've seen in recent photos, Willa's untamed hair was starting to impede her vision. Last night she was buckled into her booster seat eating her corn on the cob when Jim and I double teamed her with a wet comb and scissors. Three tiny cuts later, she looked like she'd aged a few months. She didn't put up much of a fight. Jim held her hands and her head while I did the trimming. There is a before and after photo, which will be loaded into this post tonight, perhaps. At the end we were left with 1" clippings on the table.

"So, do I have to save this hair? I mean, if it's the first haircut, I think we have to save this."
"Or we could just save the photo of the clippings."

I put the hair in a ziplock bag and labeled it "Willa's first haircut. Bang trim. 8/20/07" I slipped it into a drawer in her dresser. I do not keep a baby book to tape the clippings into. What's the modern mom to do?

Architect of the unlikely winner

Last week I had NPR on in the car, and wasn't paying attention when the story of another member of the Bush administration's departure was announced. "Another rat jumping ship," I thought. When I was focused later in the day, I learned it was the head rat. Goodbye Karl Rove.

Not so soon, I think. Karl Rove has made some pointed comments about Hillary Clinton. He has said she's likely to be the Dems nominee for President. And then he goes on to disparage her. That's cool. I mean, that's "his thing," and if I have the right to call him the head rat he can say bad things about Mrs. Clinton. I suspect, though that the architect of George W's rise to the top may be up to something. If he's so publicly introducing doubt about one of the front runners, there's no doubt he'll soon be named the campaign lead for another candidate.

Also, Rolling Stone and I think we ought not discount John Edwards. Go read this article.

I'm just putting my prediction out there so when Karl Rove becomes the Republican party's go to guy on not having to lie down and lose this election, I can say, "I called it." Shiver up the spine.

Potty - it begins

Last night Willa and I bought a potty.

I'm not pushing her into anything. I knew we'd need one eventually, and she's been showing some interest by saying, with a very serious look on her face, "otty" and pointing at the toilet.

When we got home, I put the box on the ground and she was fascinated. So, we opened it up. She hugged it. I thought - "oh, what the heck," put the seat over our toilet seat, took off her diaper and put her on. She loved it. She looked at me and started getting "the face." And she pooped on the potty. We sang ("Willa pooped in the poootttttttyyyyy"), and clapped, and made a big party out of it. I took her off of the seat feeling mighty proud of my gal, who I was ready to crown the genius of potty training.

While we watched it flush she looked up at me... and peed all over the bathroom floor.

(Also? I'm pretty sure I hate the word potty.)

Me vs. "them"

Half a block down and across the street is an elementary school. This is not where Willa will go because, well, it's hardcore Christan, and we are not. Jim and I used to take the dogs there to run in the open field on the hill. Now we take Willa there to run across wood chips to conquer slides of various heights and shapes.

On our walk to the playground last night Willa and I (finally) met the four young girls who moved in across the street from us last year. They range from entering kindergarten to 7th grade; sweet, charming girls with shy smiles and a fun secret language shared between sisters and cousins. As we parted ways they warned us that "the big kids" were at the playground.
Willa played on the smallest play set for a while, and then walked over to the metal slide. A group of five "big kids" were sitting in on the steps of the slide, blocking the way. Willa was ready to part the sea of big kids to get to her favorite slide.

One of them asked if he could hold her. "No," I said, "she's a little shy, and isn't comfortable with strangers."

This apparently insulted divawithsunglasses, who went commented on how her friend wasn't strange, and should she be talking to me, because I was a stranger (and frankly with that attitude, I'd rather she didn't talk to me)? "That's your choice," I said.

Another girl spoke up, "she only means that the baby doesn't know him."

I smiled at her and agreed. We chatted for a minute when I noticed what she was doing.

"Hey, what are you doing there?"
"Nothin'"
"I'd really appreciate if you stopped burning your name into the playground wood."
"Aw mannn.... why does everyone have to get in my business?"
"Because that's part of our community, and you should respect it."
Divawithsunglasses sucked her teeth, and started talking about how strangers should tell people what to do. She tried to make it about race.
"Look," I said, "you live near here. I live near here. I think we should try to keep this playground nice, so people can enjoy it. I'm just asking you to respect the neighborhood." I scooped up Willa and walked back to the smaller play set.

These "big kids" were probably the same age as the oldest in the group of girls we met on the way to the playground. I'll be damned if I let a group of bored, disrespectful 12 year olds ruin a trip to the playground.

There is an apartment complex at the bottom of our street. It used to be a desirable place to live. Now it's section 8 housing. In the nearly 2 years that I've lived in this neighborhood, I've witnessed tangible tensions. "Some car windows were smashed this month, it was probably people from the apartments." "The school was broken into, I'm sure it was one of them." The socioeconomic reality of our neighborhood is that there are middle class white folks in houses, and poor black folks in apartments. And part of me hungers to see a white kid throw a piece of trash on our lawn so I can say, "see, it's not them!" Even better, an old white woman, so it's not the kids who are "ruining" our neighborhood.

While I was walking with Willa I heard 2 boys playing basketball talking. "I stay in the apartments. Where do you stay?" "I stay in the apartments too."

Stay. Not live. It starts to click for me. Staying somewhere implies a lack of ownership; people stay in hotels on vacation.

I'm writing this to explore and understand. To understand last night's exchange. To understand my own prejudices and social structural norms. To understand those of others.
Those "big kids" probably aren't thinking about me or our experience last night, but it's staying with me. How do I, how does my community, how does America become more inclusive? How do we get a bunch of bored, self-involved, full of attitude "big kids" to care about and respect their community? I thought I would start by asking them to.

Honestly looking for ideas, shared experiences, and feedback.

Postscript: Our neighborhood is safe (no need to worry mom and dad) and almost idyllic, with the exception of this current of tension.

Check up visit

She is 16 months old. 25 pounds, 2 ounces. 33 1/2 inches. Took 2 shots like a champ today. Expected back to see the doctor in 6 months.

Contrary to how this somewhat haunting and painting-like photo came out, she still has both legs.

holding hands

We walk with Willa between us. She pauses and looks to one side and up at her dad, and reaches her hand up. He takes it. She then turns to look at me, and holds her other hand up. I take it. The three of us continue walking on. A family.

A few zoo photos

Willa ran around the petting zoo with enthusiasm and sense of purpose. She apparently needed to acknowledge each animal separately with her touch. This is a GOAT! This is another GOAT! This chicken can't be real until I touch it. CHICKEN! "MOO,"this is a COW, but it's not moving much so it's not as interesting. Hey dad, did you know there are GOATS here?! Hey look, SHEEP! These were the words expressed with her eyes, feet and ever outreaching hands. The last goat photo is a baby pygmy. For those of you visiting the GR Zoo, they're in a different area of the zoo.

The penguin was not part of the petting farm.

The budgies are in a huge cage. There are probably 100 birds in here. It was a blend of neat and a little too Hitchcock's "The Birds" for me to really enjoy it. This was Jim's favorite part of the zoo.

Straight off the vine

Notice the juice on her shirt.

Also, Nature? Hi, me again. IF you wanted to send a pregnant pygmy goat to our house, we would be sure to give it plenty of straw and shelter. We went to the zoo this weekend and Willa and I fell in love with baby pygmy goats.

I discovered that having a kid means an adult doesn't have to feel sheepish entering the petting zoo. Bonus points if you can identify the 2 awful puns in the previous sentence.

Nature, affirm elsewhere, please.

Dear Nature,

Please stop having babies so close to our front door. It's making us nervous and/or prompting thoughts of another pet.

First there was the house finch clutch - attacked by a sparrow. When we admitted that keeping the surviving chick alive was beyond our skills, and handed it over to more capable hands, I though Jim would cry. He loved that darn little bird.

Last week 2 bunnies were born in a very shallow burrow 18 feet from where Greta and Arlo exit our house with enthusiastic bounds. We are careful to move the wire mesh fence around the burrow while the dogs are out, but the thought of forgetting to move it and keeping mama rabbit from feeding her kids (who we have named Desitin and Chlamydia - lovely, yes?) is giving me an ulcer.

Nature, I know that you've been kind and have housed the neighborhood skunks several houses away from ours, but I think we've had enough reproduction for one year. Okay? We know it's an honor, but we're no Snow White in the forest surrounded by woodland creatures.

Your pals,

The Sinkis

Baby bunnies 2 days old.

Look closely and you'll see either an ear or an eye, and make out other head parts of the week old bunny.

Saying "yes" to Life

Yesterday I read a tragic article about how too many women are still dying in childbirth around the world (no link available, sorry.). I wonder how "they" will determine how many deaths are just about right? Sarcasm aside...

The article said that childbirth is the most life affirming thing many people can do. This, and some lovely solo piano music on the car radio, has me thinking about life affirming actions.

Giving birth is painful. It's also a beautiful everyday miracle. Giving birth is the natural consequence to a healthy pregnancy. The decision to become pregnant - or when there is no decision (a la an "oops"), the choice to remain pregnant - is life affirming. There? No, I'm not going there. Not today. What I'm saying is that the choice to make a baby is life affirming. The process of a baby leaving mom's comfy uterus is nature.

So, now Jim and I have made a baby who is a toddler making sentences (from this morning: "Boobie, all done.") now. And I'd like to continue affirming life. To me, this means way less of our already minimal television viewing, more home cooked (and grown) meals, more adventures into our community. More music. Maybe less National Public Radio: though I like to be informed, I feel more affirmed when listening to music and like to watch Willa dance. More dancing with Willa. More kindness to strangers and folks who haven't "earned" kindness. More books. More kissing of/with the husband. And someday, hopefully not too far away, a decision to make another baby.

Your assignment, darlings (awww... mannnn... homework?) is to think of one life affirming practice and share it, here if you'd like - extra credit for actually doing it.

The stage is calling her

Last night we went to hear some live music. The crowd sits on a hillside facing the small stage.
Willa was content to sit between Jim and I on the blanket, eating her dinner until a particularly rhythmic song started. She calmly set aside her plate, stood up, and started to sway.
Later, she found the stairs - and then it was all over. There were probably 45 steps between us and the area up front where the kids danced. She got down pretty quickly, walked directly past the large group of kids who moved like popping corn, and started to climb the stage steps.

This one is destined to be a rockstar, I suspect.

Back to School

My heart broke as I saw some of the most defeated looking kids in the far corner of Target over the weekend. They were dragging their heels and scowling as their moms made them chose between orange and green spiral bound notebooks. Poor, poor kids were probably off to exciting decisions in the sock aisle after that.

I should offer a similar trip for Jim. He has decided to start a Master's program in Non-profit Leadership next month. I'm really proud of him. To express this pride, I might give him this little gem.

Retirement

I have reentered a time in my life when it might be inappropriate to discuss breasts and nipples - right after this post. On Friday morning, after 2 days of successful sippy cup usage, Willa and I breastfed for the last time. It wasn't necessary for me, I just wanted to be aware that it was the last time while we were doing it. There were no tears, or any real emotion. Like every other time in the past several months, she did a break dancing routine while connected to me. I watched her charmed and waited for a pang of sadness or something, but nope. So... she's 16 months old today. And weaned. I think I'll go and buy a new bra or 2 to celebrate the good and dedicated service of "the ladies."

It was a crazy weekend of work picnic, visiting my parents, going to Bill and Jackie's new house (and enjoying their pool - thanks again, guys), an unexpected date at the Royal Oak farmers market followed by lunch, ice cream with my grandparents... It's no wonder we were all worn out and laid low on Sunday.

resting easy

8 pints of blueberries: $16. Now washed, bagged, and frozen.
Thus ending this summer's crazy obsession for gathering blueberries so Willa could have her favorite food in the middle of January.

One of the day care gals

Haven't taken her up on this, as I'm not 100% certain that the next note wouldn't be a ransom note. They really are good buddies.

Stand back, they're loaded.

So, weaning hurts. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, imagine a balloon hooked up to a faucet. The faucet slowly fills up the balloon. Slowly, slowly, slowly... and then the balloon is at capacity and suddenly bursts.
Earlier this week, I woke up with a faint memory of an oddly amusing dream.
In the dream, I walked into a large room that had debris on the tile floor. I was annoyed that no one had swept and I was meeting someone soon. Unable to find a broom or mop, I used my breast as a hose. The end.
I can't imagine where that came from (smirk).
Thanks to AmyinMotown for her thought provoking post that helped me remember my dream. Really folks, if you're interested in breastfeeding or are scared of militant breastfeeders, go take a peek.
The good news for those of you who aren't interested in breastfeeding or hearing about my boobs is that I hope to be done with weaning next week. Ironically it's World Breastfeeding week.

OH! Also, a momma rabbit gave birth on our front lawn this morning. There are at least 2 slimy baby rabbits in the shallow hole she dug. With 2 dogs who roam the lawn, this is going to get tricky.