Hey! How are you?
Did you know that trying to blog while taking care of four animals, and a five month old active, teething, doesn't like to sleep baby is virtually impossible? I was not aware of that. Now I am AWARE.
Also, having your laptop break does not help the situation. Especially when you usually use the laptop while you are breastfeeding which is like, oh I don't know, approximately a hundred times a day. But the laptop, it is broken, so you are just left with the PC. Which is in the bedroom. The most un-kid-friendly place in your apartment.
So, you try to write blog posts while the kid is napping, but the kid only takes two 1/2 hour naps a day during which time you do luxurious things like EAT! And GO TO THE BATHROOM! Which leads to several unfinished posts that are just sitting there mocking you.
Well, then there's the evening. The kid does sleep at night. Don't forget about the evening! You have time for blogging in the evening, right?
NOT SO MUCH.
In the evening you do more selfish stuff. Like MAKE DINNER! And EAT said dinner! And SHOWER! And do LAUNDRY! And RETURN PHONE CALLS! And EDIT PICTURES! Oh the excitement!
Plus, you have to fight your husband for the computer anyway. But really, what's more important? Blogging, or your husband's job? You might think the answer is obvious, but your husband keeps jabbering on about needing to make the schedule, and I'm a doctor- Blah Blah BLAH. And you don't have the energy to argue.

So, yeah. You're left with a post like this. Typed one handed while eating a bowl of cereal.

I'm sure there will be more time soon. Like maybe when the kid goes to KINDERGARTEN.

Posted by torrie at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Dear Willa,

One of my favorite bloggers (she had me over to her house for dinner once and she made me an ice cream sundae with caramel sauce and M&M's and then we stuck Cheerios to her dog's head- how could I not like her?) writes a letter to her daughter every month. I am horrible writer, and I don't have a lot of free time, so I can't/won't do this every month, but I had a few things to say.

You are such a good baby. I would never call you an easy baby- you constantly need stimulation, but there have been entire days when you didn't cry once. You smile and laugh all the time. I especially love when you wake up in the morning. You are in such a good mood, and you're all warm and snugly. Sometimes I'll bring you into bed with me and you will snuggle next to me and smile while you touch my face. Those are my favorite moments- all of us in bed together.

Your beauty scares me. I never tell you that you are beautiful; I tell you that you are smart. I don't ever want you to rely on your looks to get ahead in life. At first I thought maybe I just thought you were stunning because you were mine, but everywhere we go people comment on your beauty. People actually stop me on the street and in stores to marvel at you. You look up at them with your big blue eyes and smile. I must admit that I'm happy that you are strapped into your stroller because I'm afraid that someone might run off with you.

You love the animals. You watch them with a look of fascination on your face and you laugh and try to talk to them whenever they walk by. We are teaching you how to be gentle with them, and so far you are doing a good job.

They love you too.

When you were a few weeks old I resisted giving you a bottle because I was afraid you wouldn't want to breast feed. Well, we had a great lactation consultant who showed us the right way to use a bottle and we never had a problem. Now we have a problem, but it's the opposite of what I was afraid of. Having someone give you a bottle is not as convenient as it sounds. Every time you have a bottle I still need to drain my breasts, so I have to pump. You are a very quick eater, so it's usually just easier for me to breast feed you. We went a couple of weeks without giving you a bottle, and now you REFUSE to take one. You only want the boob. This means that I can't leave you alone for more than a couple of hours. I'm glad you like me, but it would be nice to be able to go see a movie with your father once in a while.

You are not a big sleeper. You take after your father. This is very odd for me, because I come from a family of big sleepers. Even the adults take naps. Before you came along I was sleeping 9-10 hours a night. You take two (three if I'm lucky) 1/2 hour naps a day. That's it. At night you wake up several times. I am very tired. God forbid you poop in the middle of the night because then it's party time and you don't want to go back to sleep. At least that's something you get from me- you get really happy after you poop.

You LOVE trees and plants. You get very excited when you see the trees swaying in the wind. You laugh and babble and kick your feet. I love that you love nature and it makes me feel guilty for living in the city.
You also love water. Your favorite time of day is bath time. When your father is home he likes to give you a bath. I usually stand in the kitchen making dinner listening to him singing songs while you splash.

You are totally a daddy's girl and sometimes when I watch you two together I think my heart might burst. The love that I feel is so overwhelming that I forget to breathe.

You love books or anything with writing on it and you love when we sing to you. You try to sing along.

You are very healthy and strong. You've been rolling over from front to back for a while while now (you were a day shy of six weeks the first time you did it!) and th other day your father put you down in th middle of the bed on your back and when he turned back around you were on your belly. He was stunned. You were smiling, obviously proud of your accomplishment.

You are so awesome that I admit that I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like there is no way the universe could have gifted me with such a fantastic child, and it's all going to be taken away from me.
I hardly told anyone that we had a health scare with you recently. You have a lump in your leg. I was terrified that it was something horrible. That the doctor might say the "C" word to us, but it turns out that it was just a reaction to a shot you got. I have never been so relieved in my life.

There's something I want to thank you for. I don't know how I would have gotten through my father dying without you. Your smile is infectious, and without you I probably would have been curled up on the floor crying. Thank you for giving me a purpose and for being such a wonderful distraction.

When I was a little girl all of my friends wanted to be ballerinas, or veterinarians, or doctors. I just wanted to be a mother. That's all I've wanted my whole life.

You were worth the wait.

Posted by torrie at 10:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (33)

I hate to travel.

First- the actual act of traveling. Driving sucks because of traffic, and it kills my back. And I can't read or do a crossword puzzle in the car because I get carsick.
Flying sucks because I have to figure out how to get to the airport and now with Willa, having a car seat needs to be factored in (when we flew to North Carolina for my dad's memorial service we decided to drive our car to the airport and leave it in long term parking. It cost us $80 but it was still cheaper than taking a cab back and forth, and we didn't have to worry about installing a car seat or lugging one around; our rental car in NC had one). Then of course there are the other fun perks of flying- long lines while dragging all your stuff around, practically having to get undressed when you go through security, delayed or canceled flights, lost luggage, sitting on the runway in a hot plane, terrible food, or lack thereof. The airlines have lost my luggage, damaged my suitcase (several times), made me cry, stranded me in various cities (once in Miami I had to stay in a horrible motel room that smelled- without my luggage because I didn't make my connecting flight, but my bags did). I also seem to catch a cold almost every time I fly.

I was never one of these people who loves traveling. I don't deal well with change.

Hotel beds are always super uncomfortable no matter where you stay. We have a Select Comfort bed and I've become quite addicted to it. Whenever I'm not sleeping at home I am miserable. I remember for my husband's college reunion my mother-in-law treated us to a ridiculously expensive hotel in Boston. The bed was so uncomfortable that we seriously debated going down to the garage and sleeping in our car. And don't even get me started on the pillows. Who the hell likes down pillows? First, they are waaaay too soft. You put your head on one and the part behind your head completely flattens out so you have no neck support at all and the sides stick up and engulf your head like you are wearing giant earmuffs. Second, the feathers stick through the pillow and poke you in the face.

Then there's the food issue. I am the pickiest eater ever. You know Meg Ryan's character in When Harry Met Sally? Yeah, well she's got nothing on me.That combined with the fact that I am a vegetarian makes it very difficult for me to find food when I'm away from home. When I was in France I'd ask for something vegetarian (In French no less) and it would arrive at the table with bacon on it. Then, of course my stomach gets all out of whack. For instance, on my honeymoon I was either constipated or had diarrhea every day. (I know, super sexy, huh? My husband is a lucky man.)

We also have to figure out what to do with the animals when we are away.
Dexter is not the type of dog you can stick in a kennel. The two younger cats are on a special diet (because of Mookie's bladder/kidney problems) where they have to be fed three times a day. Our older cat is about 15 and does not travel well. We usually take Dexter and the two younger cats to my mom's house (a two hour drive away), which is a royal pain in the ass. We have to bring a litter box and litter, bowls, a water fountain, and cans of wet food for the cats, and Dexter's dry food, wet food, and his bowl. Then, let's not forget all of the brushes and medicine. All that stuff, Dexter, the two cats in their carriers, and Willa barely fit in the car. Plus, the cats serenade us with their melodic screaming the entire two hour drive.
I'm very thankful that my mom is willing to take care of the animals (although this means that I can never go on a trip with my mother), but we still have to find someone to come to our apartment and feed our older cat at least once a day.

The amount of stuff we have to bring with us when we travel with Willa is unbelievable. Clothes, wipes, diapers, toys, books, blankets, something for her to sleep in (we brought the Pack N' Play to North Carolina), car seat, and a stroller. We also realized that we need to bring something for her to sit in. She spends a lot of her day hanging out in the bouncy seat or her Bebe Pod. Without it we would have to hold her all the time, which neither of our backs can take (she is giant- she weighs about 18lbs. now). We brought the Bebe Pod to North Carolina. Also, we had to make due with out Willa's bathtub while we were there.

It's all just too much.

Most of the time when I get home from a "vacation" I feel like I need a vacation. I am a creature of habit. I like to be home. I like to sleep in my bed. I like to prepare food the way I like it. I like to be surrounded by my things.

Maybe one day, when I have money, I'll enjoy traveling more. I can charter a private jet. I can hire someone to drive me around. I can have any kind of food I want.
Until then,if you need me, I'll be in my bed, surrounded by my things, picking all of the scallions out of my scallion pancakes, straining the mushrooms out of my mushroom soup, and taking all of the tomato sauce off of my pizza.

Posted by torrie at 03:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Part of a new series I put together called "My Kid Has More Style Than Me".

Posted by torrie at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)