Remember this entry?

Well, we have a problem.

Last November, when Willa was first diagnosed with Cold Induced Urticaria we weren't sure what to expect. We gave her medicine almost every night for months. The medicine made it more manageable. If it wasn't too cold Willa could even play outside for a few minutes. But, it was a constant concern.
She had hives all the way through May. Basically, if it was 55 degrees or less, she got hives.
They never really seemed to bother her though. Occasionally she would tug at her ears, but that's it. The summer was great because I spent three months never having to worry about the urticaria. We had a couple of instances where Willa went swimming in a relatively cold pool, and she didn't get any hives. I stupidly took that to mean her urticaria was getting better. I convinced myself that it was getting better, that it wasn't a big deal.

Then, a few weeks ago it was 55 degrees and cloudy outside. I took Willa and Dexter on a long walk. About halfway through the walk Willa started to get some hives. I headed home, but we were about 20-30 minutes away at that point. Willa started to cry and and pull at her hands which were now swollen and covered in hives. She kept saying "Mommy, it hurts!" I was helpless.
Here are some pictures:

I was completely traumatized. Completely.

I had to deal with the reality- Willa has Urticaria. She might outgrow it, but that usually happens after 5-7 years. She's only had it for a year. She might never outgrow it.

We can't live in Manhattan where you have to walk everywhere.

Urticaria is rarely life-threatening, but there is something instinctual that happens when I see my kid swollen and covered in hives- I feel like I must fix it.

I can't fix this.

After that traumatizing episode I completely freaked out. I told my husband that we should move to California. In my usual psychotic fashion I started researching towns in California.

For a few weeks I was spending my time applying to pre-schools in Manhattan, while simultaneously looking at pre-schools in California. I was driving myself insane. I had to cover all the bases. I didn't really want to move to California. I mean, if I could convince all of my friends and family to move there, I totally would, but our entire life is on the East coast.

I was praying fro a miracle.

So finally, my husband and I had a long talk.

We both finally said the words "We can't move to Manhattan."

And I was relieved and heartbroken all at once.

And then we decided we would compromise. We aren't moving to Manhattan. We aren't moving to California. We are staying in the town where we have lived for the past year and a half.

Here is how I feel about that:

As much as I am a mature, responsible adult, I still have childish fantasies. I wanted to live in Manhattan. I wanted to hang out with my friends all the time. But this isn't an episode of Friends. Perhaps I am mourning the loss of my fantasy instead of the reality. Sure, if I lived in Manhattan I probably would have seen my friends more often, but not that much more often. They all work a ton. And who's to say that a bunch of them won't move out to the suburbs too.

The town and the area we live in is fantastic for kids. There's no denying that.

True, I wrote before about how I felt like I didn't fit in here, but maybe I need to make more of an effort. Maybe I need to go to some of the vegetarian meetups in the area so I can meet other like-minded people. Also, the mother's helper has only been here a few times, but already I can see what a huge impact having a little help can have on me. I think that if I have a little help, and spend a little time on myself, I'll be much happier.

I still hate that my husband works 10-12 hours a day and then spends another 2 hours a day commuting, but we have to do what's best for our kid.

At least here I can take her from the house to the car, and from the car to the library, or the Y, or the store, etc. As opposed to Manhattan where you have to walk everywhere.

And as much as we were willing to spend extra money to live in Manhattan, it makes so much more sense financially to stay here. To not have to constantly worry about money will be nice.

I must admit, it's always been great being able to say I grew up in Manhattan. There's something special about it. I wanted that for Willa too.

I still have doubts about whether or not we should be staying here. I don't like the idea of my kid having to take medicine every day for 6 months out of the year. Plus, I HATE the cold. I wouldn't mind living in a place that's warm. However, our whole support system is here, and we don't think it makes sense to start a new life on the other side of the country when there's a possibility that Willa might outgrow this in a few years. We want Willa to grow up surrounded by her Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and Grandparents.

The weird thing about all of this is that I have absolutely no resentment towards Willa. I would do anything for her. She's getting so big, but she's still so small and fragile. I must protect her. And the only way I can sleep at night is if I know I'm doing what's best for her.

This is what's best.

I am trying my hardest to make the best of this situation. To be excited about the prospect of living in a bigger place, of not having to deal with all of the Manhattan school drama (I will write a post about that one day), of enjoying nature.

Manhattan is my home. It always will be. But maybe it is/was my childhood home. Maybe it's time for me to stop clinging to my childhood. Maybe this new town can be my grownup home. Maybe I just need to give it a chance.

Posted by torrie at 09:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

Keep in mind that they are both 2 1/2.

Willa- "I like your pretty shirt"
Friend- "Thank you"
Willa- "You're welcome"
Friend- "Look at my belt"
Willa- "It has airplanes on it!"

FIN

Also, this picture warms my cold, unfeeling heart:

Posted by torrie at 09:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Willa is fascinated with parties. We've been lucky to attend several in the past few months.
One day we were driving to a party. Willa was very excited. She asked us a bunch of questions including "Will they have cake at the party?" That lead to a whole conversation about cakes which lead Willa to say "Mama, you make a star cake with me?" I said "Sure, I'd love to make a star cake with you."

I think it's very important that I follow through when I promise things to Willa, so a few days later, we made a star cake together.

The funny thing about this whole situation is that Willa doesn't usually like cake. She doesn't really like sweets, but I did notice that she liked the whipped cream that was on a cake we had at a party, so I decided to ice and fill our star cake with whipped cream.
She loved it.

I made vanilla whipped cream, and then separated some of it and added cocoa powder to make chocolate whipped cream to fill the cake with.

The cake itself was a healthy banana cake made with whole wheat flour, and agave nectar instead of sugar.

It was a hit.

As someone who grew up in the kitchen baking with her mother, and then eventually went to culinary school and became a chef, I can not tell you how awesome it was to bake with my own child.

*As requested, here is the recipe for healthier Banana Cake:

*If you make this recipe please let me know in the comments.

Posted by torrie at 04:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

So, I've written about this enthralling subject before.

I am so fucking frustrated.

We have gotten to the point where Willa only naps one or two days a week (if I'm lucky). She'll go 5 days without napping.

Here's the kicker- it's not like I'm trying to force a non-tired kid to nap. She's visibly tired. She gets whiney, and cranky, and starts falling over. If she doesn't nap, the afternoons are horrible. She'll often burst into tears for no apparent reason BECAUSE SHE IS SO TIRED.

I just don't get it. I remember nap time IN KINDERGARTEN when I WAS FIVE. Willa started fighting her naps when she was A YEAR OLD. Seriously. The first day ever that she didn't take a nap was on her first birthday. She stopped napping in her stroller when she was about 10 months old.

I honestly am more tired now then when Willa was an infant.

If she doesn't nap, it's 12-13 hours a day of non-stop action. It's not that Willa is hyper active- it's just that she's very INTERACTIVE.

"Mommy, let's dance"
"Mommy, read me this book"
"Mommy, chase me"
"Mommy, watch me!"
"Mommy look"

She's getting better, but she's not the best at playing by herself. I can't blame her. It's much more fun to share activities with someone.

Admittedly, my physical issues make parenting more challenging for me than most.

TANGENT: I am really fighting with myself to not use the TV as a crutch, but it's difficult. I used to be able to shower while she was napping, but now that there is rarely a nap, I have no choice but to turn the TV so I can shower. I must mention- Willa HATES when I shower. She cries hysterically. We think it's a fear thing. I am comfortable with letting my kid cry in certain situations, but not if she is hysterical and shaking with fear. So, a few mornings a week, I turn on Sesame Street so I can shower.
I've stopped beating myself up about it because you know what? We read about 20 books a day, we take classes at the Y, we go to programs at the library twice a week, we go to museums, etc.- a little Sesame Street isn't going to hurt her.

Back to the napping issue-
After we eat lunch, I give Willa about 10 minutes to digest (which also gives her a chance to poop). Then we head to her room, brush her teeth, change her diaper, and read a couple of books. Then I sing her her lullaby and put her in the crib. She is usually yawning and acting sleepy. We have black out curtains. The minute I walk out of her room she starts singing and jumping up and down in her crib.

After about a half an hour of her playing I go in and check to make sure she hasn't pooped. Either way, I change her diaper if necessary, and put her back down. She often cries and says "All done Mommy!"

Today, she is napping, after an hour and 45 minutes of singing and playing, and me going back in her room twice, and finally, 15 minutes of her crying it out.

It shouldn't be this hard. I hate letting her cry it out.

But, I'm exhausted. And so is she. And I have things to do.

At night, after we put her to sleep, I am too tired to get anything accomplished. To be honest, getting her to nap is so physically and mentally exhausting, that on the rare occasion that she does nap, most of the time I don't get much accomplished either. I'm not getting stuff done. I'm overwhelmed.

I was a nanny for years. I am not one of those woman who was surprised at how hard parenting is. However, I always assumed my kid would nap- at least until school started. So, I always told myself, well even if I'm really tired, or sick, at least I can have a break or take a nap when my kid naps.

Boy, was I wrong.

Posted by torrie at 02:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Posted by torrie at 10:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Indulge me please.

1) At what age did you give your child a pillow?
2) At what age did your child stop sleeping in a crib?
3) At what age did your child stop using sippy cups?
4) At what age did your child stop using bibs?

Posted by torrie at 09:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

We've had a lot going on lately.
Here's a recap:

The morning of July 4th our town had a celebration on the town green. Willa had a great time.

She loved when everyone was singing.

She also enjoyed playing with the older kids.

July 4th is a special day for us- my husband and I met 12 years ago on July 4th.

That night we were supposed to go out to dinner and then see the fireworks, but both Willa and my husband weren't feeling well, so we had to stay home. I was disappointed because the 4th of July is my favorite holiday, and I was really looking forward to the fireworks- but, lucky me because the next town over has a great fireworks show, and we could see them perfectly from our front stoop.

The following Monday the husband and I drove to the Catskills and stayed in a little bed and breakfast BY OURSELVES for two nights. It was my first time being away from Willa, and it was actually much easier than I thought it would be. Maybe that's because she was with my mother, or maybe it's because it was the right time. Either way, we had a great time. The grounds of the Bed and Breakfast were beautiful.

We also went to my favorite place in the world for the day, Mohonk.

The day after we got back, we went into the city and Willa got to go to Central Park with her father while I had a newborn photo shoot.

Then on Saturday we went to my cousin's little girl's birthday party. Willa pretty much thought it was the best thing ever because she got to wear a crown and get a tattoo.

She also got to dance with a ribbon streamer. I'm not sure if I've even seen her so happy.

After the party, we went over to my in-laws house. Willa always has a great time there because they have guitars and a piano, which she loves to play.

Yesterday, we went to our first game at the Mets' new stadium Citi Field. I have mixed feelings about it because I'm very sentimental about Shea stadium.

But, I got to meet Cow Bell Man, so I can't complain.

Posted by torrie at 09:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Perhaps the best part of being a parent is watching your child experience things for the first time.
Sometimes when I'm watching Willa enjoy something, especially if it's something that I enjoy too, I feel like my heart might explode.

Lately we've had a lot of those experiences. There are three that stand out:

1) On Willa's second birthday we took her to The Bronx Zoo for the first time. The highlight, without a doubt, was the Carousel. I was worried when we first got on that the combination of movement and loud music might scare her, but she loved it. She thought it was the greatest thing ever.

She's still talking about it almost 6 weeks later.

2) For Willa's birthday my mother in law gave her a tricycle.

Willa was thrilled. She kept yelling "BICYCLE!"
So, a couple of days after her birthday party we took her for her first official ride. She was so excited to wear her helmet.

She didn't want to get off.

3) Right before Willa was diagnosed with Cold Induced Urticaria I had signed her up for swim classes at the Y. When we found out that people who have Urticaria can become anyphylactic in cold water I got really nervous. I took her for her first class anyway, armed with an epi pen. The water was cooler than I had hoped and after 15 minutes in the pool Willa's legs were covered in hives. Plus, Willa didn't like the LOUD male swim instructor and she clung to me the whole time. We never went back to swim class.
We figured we'd try again in the summer when it was warmer. I spent the whole winter worrying that because we weren't exposing her to swimming that she would be afraid of it. And then, a week after her second birthday it was warm and she was refusing to nap. So, I asked her if she would like to go swimming and she said yes. We headed over to the Y. I didn't even bring a swimsuit because I thought there was no way she was going to spend any amount of time in the pool. Boy was I wrong. SHE LOVED IT.

She kept saying "I swimming in da pool!"

I sat on the sideline watching her swim with her father, my eyes filling with tears.

The minute she was done we stripped her wet bathing suit off and got her into dry clothes. She only got one tiny hive.

She starts swim class next Tuesday.

Posted by torrie at 02:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Recently, a lot of bloggers have been talking about this article in the New York Times.
If you can't access the article, the basic premise is a mother who fights with her children's school about cupcakes and junk food being served. She even went as far as to steal some sprinkles and syrup off a table at a function that was serving ice cream. Now, while I do think this mother's tactics are extreme, I must admit that part of me sympathizes with her.

We are vegetarian. We raise our daughter vegetarian. Our daughter is fed mostly organic food.
A vegetarian diet has been shown to extend your life, lower the risk for almost every type of cancer, lower the risk of heart disease, keep cholesterol levels in check, prevent and/or cure type 2 diabetes, etc, etc.
It also is one of the easiest ways to positively impact the environment.
And yet, we constantly get made fun of. We are called "hippies". We are asked where we get our protein from (such an annoying, uneducated question). People roll their eyes at us.
If you know me in real life, you know that I'm not preachy about my vegetarianism. If someone wants to Talk to me about it, I gladly answer questions. I rarely talk about it on this blog because it tends to draw the crazies out of the woodwork, but this article opened up a flood of emotions for me.

The same thing happened to me a few months ago when I was reading a parenting magazine and there was a list- "Ten things NOT to feel guilty about" and one of the things was "Feeding your niece, little miss organic. her first twinkie."

Like feeding your kid organic foods is "wacky".

For us, it's not just about vegetarianism either, it's about eating healthy.
Our daughter is only given healthy food 99% of the time. Our belief (in addition to wanting her to be healthy) was that if we only give her healthy food, if she goes through a picky phase (which she has) at least what's she's eating is still healthy. We pretty much steer clear of foods packaged for kids (I think it's so sad that the food packaged for kids is usually the worst for them).
However, I also know that if we make something taboo, then Willa will likely be drawn to it, so we let her try things. At a birthday party several months ago there was ice cream cake. Willa was very excited about it and asked to try it. I let her. She took two bites and then went back to eating her melon.
That is typically what happens- she sees something that looks exciting, like a cupcake, and she takes one or two bites and then goes back to eating her healthy food. I love that she doesn't have a taste for these things. I love that at a Halloween party she was playing with candy corn because she didn't realize it was edible.
At the same time, I don't want her to miss out on experiencing special treats, or baking with her mother (especially since baking with my mother is what ultimately made me go to culinary school), so occasionally I bake something like banana bread, or (recently) oatmeal cookies. I make healthy versions, but the idea is still the same. However, Willa still mostly refuses them. She'd rather eat as much cantaloupe as she can get her hands on.
I don't think feeding my child a healthy diet is obsessive or unrealistic. I'm trying to set her up for a life time of healthy eating. She's only 25 months old. She has plenty of time to eat junk and sweets. She will still have the opportunity to live on cereal and pizza when she goes to college. I'm sure once she starts going to school and hanging out with other kids she'll start eating more unhealthy food, but I feel like while we have control we need to instill healthy eating habits.
I am a vegetarian, but I don't have a great diet. I'm the pickiest eater I know. I hate that about myself.
Both of my parents had HORRIBLE diets. Mostly processed, refined carbs, tons of butter on everything, tons of sugar, never anything exotic or spicy. Add that to the fact that they got divorced when I was two. My dad only saw me a few times a year, so he didn't want to be the bad guy, so he never made me try anything. My mom hated her strict upbringing where she was forced to eat things she did't like. She didn't want to do that to me, so she never insisted I try anything either. Growing up I lived on sugary cereal, and fruit roll-ups, and when I did eat something healthy, like strawberries, I would put sugar on them. Now, as an adult I struggle every day with my diet. I have to force myself to eat healthy things. I have no taste for them. If it was up to me, and was healthy, and had no impact on the environment, I would exist on Cap'n Crunch and bagels with cream cheese. I DREAD my daughter being like me. I have fought to make sure she's not.

I think a lot of parents are feeding their kids unhealthy things for several reasons:

1) It's easier. I understand that, I really do. But, feeding your kids healthy food is not that much more work (you cut up some fruit or vegetables instead of opening a package), and the benefits are worth it. It is OK to be lazy about doing the laundry, or scrubbing the toilet, but it is not, in my opinion, OK to be lazy about something that impacts your child's health.
2) "I ate it when I was a kid, and I'm fine." I hate this excuse. Don't you want better for your child? Don't you want the BEST for your child?
3) People are uneducated. People do more research when they buy a car then they do when they have a child. People might argue that it's easier for me because I went to culinary school and was certified in nutrition, but the reality is 90% of what I know about nutrition I taught myself.
4) They want to eat unhealthy things too. It's kind of hard to tell your kid to eat their healthy food if you're sitting their eating crap. Having Willa has forced me to eat healthier, so I can lead by example.

Everywhere I go I'm fighting the battle to steer my kid in the direction of healthy food. That's why I can commiserate with the mom in the article. In a few years Willa will be spending the majority of her awake time at school. It would be nice if she wasn't constantly bombarded with junk.
I admit that a large part of why we picked the preschool Willa will start attending in the fall, is because they serve fruits and vegetables from the farmers market for snack instead of goldfish crackers or apple sauce (with high fructose corn syrup).

I really hate that because I feed my kid a healthy diet I'm viewed as an extremist, or uptight. (And here's the part where I'm sure a lot of commenters will jump down my throat) I think that a lot of people crack jokes or make fun of people who feed their kids a healthy diet because it makes them examine what they are feeding their own kids.

It's almost as if my action of feeding my kid healthy food is automatically viewed as me judging those that don't. That's not the case at all. I'm just, like most parents, trying to do what I think is best for my child.

I think the woman featured in the article could be more constructive about the way she deals with things, but I must admit, I'd probably rather have my kid go to her house for a playdate.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my kid is asking me for a banana.

*If you're interested, a few months back I wrote an article for Alphamom about getting your kids to eat healthy.

Posted by torrie at 07:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (35)

Here's a video of my kid saying various words and phrases including "Meshugenah" is a reference to Danny's book (which is coming out August 4th, but I implore you to pre-order it).

Posted by torrie at 03:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Normally a post like this would include pictures, but
a) I was so busy in Boston I only took about 5 pictures
and
b) Our laptop isn't feeling well and one of the symptoms is not letting me upload any pictures. I am dropping it at the Apple store today, and hopefully it will be returned to us in a few days good as new.

Things that happened in Boston:

-On the way there we sat in a ton of traffic. Cranky toddler wanted out of the car and kept screaming things like "GO!" and "All done driving!" and "All done car!" and "Get out!"

-We stayed in a big beautiful yellow mansion within walking distance of Harvard Square. It was awesome, as was our hostess.

-We met David Sedaris, my favorite author. He was just as strange as I had imagined he would be. We talked to him about sinks you can't stop up, airport hotels, and drinking breast milk.

-We met a 20 year old who didn't know what blogging was.

-The husband backed the rental car in to a tree and smashed the bumper and a light.

-We ate ice cream with friends on one of the coldest June nights.

-We ate ourselves silly at the following places:
Burdick's (I used to be the manager there-Try the milk hot chocolate)
Zaftigs (Try the banana stuffed french toast and the potato pancakes)
Centre Street Cafe (Best brunch place in the Boston area- everything on the menu is good)
Upstairs on the Square (Try the grilled cheese with tomato soup)
Grasshopper (Everything on the menu is good)

-We walked by Jessica Biel and drove by Jennifer Garner and Violet Affleck (adorable!)

-I took two naps

-We met with several old friends.

-I bought two purses includingthis one in the tree print.

-We met a former MIT PHD financial genius who basically gave us a crash course in all things financial.

- I didn't watch TV and didn't miss it.

-I wore more heels in 5 days than I have in 5 months.

-I considered moving back.

-I relaxed.

Posted by torrie at 02:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

My daughter turned two, but I'm the one who learned the valuable lesson.
I wanted everything to be perfect, so I drove myself crazy.
I had to make all the food, most of which couldn't be made ahead.
I was embarrassed by my crappy backyard, so I decided to take on a major landscaping project the day before the party.
The weekend went as follows- On Friday, Willa's actual birthday, we went to the Bronx Zoo. It was Willa's first time.
It was fun, but physically exhausting.
On Saturday, we spent all day either working in the backyard, cooking, or cleaning up the house for the party. Then, on Saturday night we went to a friend's open house party. We only stayed for an hour, and then we came home and got back to work.
By the time the party started at 11am on Sunday I was exhausted and frazzled. I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I made a ton of food (there were about 35 people at the party), less than half of which was eaten. We were hoping to have most of the party in the backyard, and we tried, but it was really cold. Everyone ended up cramming into our small apartment. As far as I could tell no one was judging us for our crappy place, and no one was blaming us for the cold weather, and yet I drove myself crazy about it.

I should have just been enjoying my daughter's party.
Part of the problem was that we couldn't afford to have it at one of those toddler gym places, or have it catered, but I very easily could have ordered a few pizzas instead of serving tea sandwiches.

My favorite moment of the weekend might have been Sunday night, when everyone had gone home, and just the three of us were having a quiet dinner together- Willa tried the little cake I made for her (that she wanted no part of during the actual party) and she said "It tastes good!"

Next year, when my husband is actually getting paid a real salary, I will pay people to do all the work, or I will rent out a place, and I will relax and enjoy my daughter's birthday.

Because I was so busy running around, I didn't take a ton of pictures (I didn't even get a picture of the cake!) but here are a few highlights:

Posted by torrie at 09:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Willa is eating some apple-blueberry puree. It's a deep purple color.
When she has finished, she rips off her bib, places it on the table and says "all done!".
I have planned poorly. I do not have a paper towel at the table because I was engrossed in Danny's book.
Willa is wearing an off white shirt, and although for her age she has great spoon skills, there is still fruit all over her hands and face.
I race to the kitchen to get a paper towel and yell "Don't touch your shirt!"
5 seconds later I return with a paper towel in hand and Willa's shirt is covered in purple smudges.
I think next time I'm going to say "Please wipe your food all over your shirt!", and I guarantee she won't touch it.

Posted by torrie at 10:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

You are more amazing than I ever could have imagined.

You are brilliant, and beautiful, and kind, and funny.

You are unusual, and complex, and difficult.

You are good, but not easy.

You give hugs and kisses without being asked. You say please and thank you without any prompting.

You have a great imagination.You are my buddy, my pal.

You love to read, sing, and dance.

You love animals.

You are the center of attention, the hit of the party, and you light up a room when you walk in to it.

You blow me away.

I love you more than I could ever tell you.

Love,

Mama

*You can see all of the pictures of Willa's first two years here.

Posted by torrie at 08:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

If everyone could see this picture, the world would be a happier place.

Posted by torrie at 08:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

So, yeah, sorry about the whole dropping off the face of the earth thing.
I needed a break from the internet. It was feeling like a chore, and if there's one thing I don't need more of it's chores.

I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted out of my on-line life. I was thinking that I was too busy to blog, but then I decided that I do almost NOTHING for myself, and blogging has helped me meet so many amazing people and given me so much support during tough times, so blogging stays. Also, being able to complain and rant on my blog helps me complain and rant less in "real" life, which is great for my "real" life friends, but sucks for you guys.

Once I decided I wanted to keep blogging I then had to figure out what I wanted to do with my blog. Oh internet, the hours I wasted thinking about this. And then it finally dawned on me- my blog can be whatever the hell I want it to be- isn't that the beauty of blogging? It's like a weight was lifted. I'm really not concerned about how much traffic I get, or "marketing" myself. It's very freeing. I just want to blog to vent, and chronicle my life, and connect with people.
So, some days I might just post a picture, or a sentence. I'm also going to try some new stuff like video blogging and posting recipes.

I'm also going to redesign/relaunch the blog. I'd love some feedback from you guys. Things you like/dislike on blogs, what layouts you like, etc. (For instance- I can't stand when you go to someone's blog and music starts playing. It's fine to give me the option, but don't force it on me.)

****************************************

In other news- Willa is talking up a storm. Seriously. The funny thing is, I thought she was a little behind in speech a few months back. I never doubted her intelligence, but I was an early talker and so was my husband so I just assumed Willa would follow suit. She was just saying somewhere between 5-10 words, and then between month 18 and 19 she started saying new words every day. By the end of the month she had over 40 words. And now here we are 11 days before her second birthday and she has started talking in sentences. I can't keep up. The growing up is happening way too quickly. She pretty much has entire conversations with us- like a couple of weeks ago she told us that the snake in the pet store scared her.
It's really unbelievable that my kid can now communicate with me.
This morning she said "Mowy (that's the nickname for our cat Itsy) went upstairs and said bye bye."
And my husband and I just stood there with our mouths hanging open, and I was like "Weren't you just born yesterday??? GET BACK IN MY UTERUS."

Posted by torrie at 01:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

My husband, age 3:

Willa, 20 months:

Sorry I've been MIA.
Life has been crazy busy lately. Perhaps someday soon, I'll write all about it.
But right now, I'm trying to figure out what role I want the internet to play in my life.

Posted by torrie at 09:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Manic.

I pretty much still feel the same way today.

Posted by torrie at 09:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Posted by torrie at 10:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

About how Willa has been sick for 5 days, and woke up this morning shaking with a 103.1 fever, and has hardly eaten anything since becoming sick?

About how I am so exhausted because for the past week either Willa has been waking up in the middle of the night with fever, or every time she coughs it wakes me up, or Dexter is barking in his sleep, or the cat is scratching in the kitty litter?

About how a couple of nights ago, I closed both closet doors by accident, and the kitty litter is in the closet, and so my cat peed ALL OVER Dexter's bed?

About how my husband threw his back out, because, you know, we needed that?

About how I am in constant pain?

About how my husband STILL hasn't received a job offer, which is making us SUPER nervous?

About how last night I stayed up to watch the end of the Oscars, because I am a giant idiot, and then went in to my bedroom exhausted only to discover that my cat had puked all over my bed and pillow?

About how my cats' medication for her hyperthyroidism is making her vomit excessively, and the only other treatments are invasive and super expensive?

About how this morning Dexter puked all over the place?

About how our first "date night" in six weeks is a memorial service?

About how I found out that my suspicions about someone were true, and they hurt someone I love dearly?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

Even I'm sick of hearing me complain.

Posted by torrie at 02:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Posted by torrie at 10:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I was going to write a whole long post about everything that is going on in my life, but honestly, I don't have the energy.

To sum up-

I am not happy. I should be- I've got an amazing husband, an amazing kid, and a roof over my head.
But, I'm not happy.

I am completely overwhelmed.

I have to keep a house with three humans and four animals clean by myself.

I have to feed two of the animals twice a day, and the other two animals three times a day. Two of the animals get medication twice a day.

I have to take care of my kid mostly by myself. (The husband works a minimum of 60 hours a week, and we have no family of friends nearby, or a babysitter.)

My kid has been fighting her nap every day.

No nap means no break for me.

No nap means no showering for me. Last week I set a record for days in a row without showering.

My kid eats three full meals a day which I mostly cook from scratch, and two snacks.

My point is I don't know how to take care of everyone, cook, clean, run errands, pay bills, exercise, etc., etc., etc.

Things are falling through the cracks.

Bills are getting paid late, thank you cards aren't being written, emails aren't being returned.

And when I try to relax, I'm not really relaxing because I have all of the things I haven't done hanging over me.

I go to bed every night still not recovered from the day. And sleeping doesn't fix that because you can't mentally unwind when you are sleeping.

I can't catch up.

Speaking of sleeping-
My sleep quality sucks.

I'm not being dramatic when I say that in order to get everything done after watching my kid for 12-13 hours straight, I would then have to spend the three hours between her bed time and my bed time working non stop.
I just can't do that. I am in too much pain and too exhausted.

I am spent.

The worst part is- my husband works so hard- he leaves the house before Willa wakes up and on a good night gets home an hour before she goes to sleep. He then eats dinner, returns emails, and does a bunch of chores. He often only gets five hours of sleep. His days off are spent running errands and giving me break.
He carries the weight of supporting his family, and deals with a wife who is both physically and mentally a mess.
When does he get a break?
This in turn makes me feel tremendously guilty.

I've been very manic- one minute bursting with love and happiness, the next hanging on to my sanity with a thread.

I've been crying in front of my child.

Today, I wanted to run away. I wanted to scream.

Anyway, I didn't write this for sympathy- I'm just trying to explain my absence.

I'm having a bit of a crisis. I'm trying to figure out my life.

I haven't had the urge to write anything, because writing takes energy that I haven't got.

Please bear with me

Posted by torrie at 06:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (35)

If I had the time and I wasn't so mentally and physically exhausted I would write a post, but my kid has been fighting her nap EVERY SINGLE DAY. I have tried everything I've read in every single book and article.EVER. I've tried everyone's advice.
I've tried putting her down, earlier, later, before she eats, after she eats, etc. , etc, etc.

I am at my wits end.

So, instead of writing a blog post, I will ask you this-

At what age did your kid stop napping? At what age did you stop napping?

I was still taking naps in kindergarten. My kid isn't even 20 months old yet.

Posted by torrie at 03:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (46)

Instead of spending Willa's nap doing something productive, I went through all of my pictures on Flickr, and put together slide shows of each of the last 4 years.
There are certainly a lot of moments and people dear to us who weren't captured. These are not my "best" pictures- some are unflattering, some are blurry, etc., but they are the pictures that most accurately depict that year.

2005 was about me recovering from career ending shoulder surgery, tons of physical therapy, finding out my dad's cancer had metastasized, a major back injury, and my husband's internship.

In 2006 I was pregnant 3 times (!!!), had two miscarriages, landed an ad campaign with Nikon, Turned 30, had my pictures in The New York Times, traveled a bunch, and had the enjoyable part of my pregnancy with Willa.

2007 was perhaps the most important year I've ever had. I had a very rough pregnancy and was bed ridden for months, Willa was born, my husband became chief resident, and my father passed away.

2008 has been interesting. Willa was modeling, my husband turned 30, finished his residency, and started his fellowship. We moved, my pictures were published in a book, I re injured my shoulder, Obama became president elect, and Willa was diagnosed with Urticaria.

Posted by torrie at 07:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

On Christmas day we were trying to kill some time with our kid, because everything is closed on Christmas day, which drives me up the wall. You want to spend time with your loved ones? Well, I need some freaking bananas.
So, we took the kid to a small pier in our town.
During the warmer months we went there often.
There is a staircase that leads down to a small beach area, which disappears during high tide.
Willa loves to collect sea shells on the beach.
As we are getting out of the car I see something on the top of the staircase and I assume it is a large piece of driftwood. As we get closer I realize it is a dead animal. A rather large dead animal. It is on its back with its head hanging over the top step. It had a lot of large teeth, and it didn't appear to have any hair. It was obviously a chupacabra.
I wanted to take a picture of it, but we didn't want Willa to see it.
We drove to the police station in town. We walked in and there were several officers standing there.
I said "I just wanted to let you know that there is a rather large dead animal on the pier."
To which officer numbnuts replied "Oh, you mean the one with no hair? Yeah, that things been washing back and forth for a while now."
So in other words, there is a large, dead, possibly diseased animal on the town pier WHERE CHILDREN PLAY, and the police have known about it for several days. and have done nothing about it.
They are probably some of the highest payed police officers in the country. Heaven forbid they, you know, DO THEIR JOB.

Anyway, on a completely different note-
The next day we went to my cousin's house.
Willa REFUSED to nap that day, so we thought it was going to be a disaster.
My cousin has two kids- a daughter who is ten months older than Willa, and a son who is three months old.
Willa actually played with my cousin's daughter. That was the first time she really played with another kid, and it was AWESOME. They were running around chasing each other, and Willa was having so much fun that she was squealing in delight. It was one of those amazing parenting moments.
I've been having a lot of those lately.

On Saturday my oldest friend and her husband came over with their dog.
Again, Willa refused to take a nap. Again, I thought it was going to be a disaster, but she had so much fun. Let me just say that if my kid stops napping WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BIG PROBLEM.

Yesterday I went to Woodbury Commons with Heather and Metalia. If you really want to be intimidated, go shopping with two of the most stylish people on the internet. Heather took video. If she posts it I'll link to it, but God, I hope she doesn't. Because if there's one thing I hate, it's seeing myself on video.
Of course Willa took a nice long nap while I was gone. (OF COURSE)
Last night an old friend from Boston and his wife came over, and we forced them to watch Mary Poppins, and read Bad News Hughes.

Life is good.

Posted by torrie at 01:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

How much anxiety is too much?

Is it normal to worry EVERY TIME your husband gets in a car that he will die in a horrific accident?
Because you just can't imagine life without him.

Is it normal to worry EVERY DAY that your child will get some horrible disease?
That's she's just too awesome and you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Is it normal to worry that someone will steal your child when you drop them off at the Y childcare center?
Or, that if anyone else watches your kid, they might get injured (even though the worst injury she's ever sustained was on your watch)?
Because no one can watch her as carefully as you can.

Is it normal when every time you take the train in to the city, the same city you lived in until 6 months ago, that terrorists will blow up the train station?

Is it normal to worry every time your husband is at work that someone will break in to your house? And to have a plan for how you will protect your child?
Even though you live in one of the safest towns in the country.

Is it normal to occasionally, seemingly out of nowhere, to think about your father's death, 16 months later, and feel like someone is sitting on your chest?

And I haven't even mentioned some of the really demented things I worry about.

What amount of worrying is normal?

Posted by torrie at 09:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (29)

She's turning in to a little girl. Time is flying by. Wasn't this just yesterday?

And now she is so smart. And has so may opinions. And I feel like it's all going by so fast.

I'm trying to savor every moment.

New article up at Alpha Mom.

New review up on my review blog.

Posted by torrie at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Let's recap, shall we?

My kid is just getting over the stomach flu she's had since Sunday night/Monday morning.
My husband came home from work early yesterday with fever, chills, and a splitting headache. It was so bad- he was writhing around in pain- that I thought his head was going to split open and scorpions were going to crawl out.
My husband's work holiday party was last night. We, of course, did not go.
I woke up this morning with Willa's stomach flu.
My back is still out.
I had to cancel my first personal training session at the Y today, for obvious reasons.
My garage door broke yesterday.
My mother is here helping out.
Except that Willa is in the midst of a mommy phase. I must be in her sight at all times, otherwise there is much whining and screaming. So, even though my mom is here, while I'm laying in bed trying to keep the contents of my stomach inside of me, there is a toddler slamming on my bedroom door.
Also, Willa is going stir crazy because she hasn't been out much since Sunday, but my mom can't drive, and Willa can't be outside for that long because she hasn't taken her medication because of her stomach flu.

Would anyone like to slash my tires, or punch me in the face while we're at it?

Posted by torrie at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

So, this morning I went to get Willa out of her crib, and the minute I opened her door I knew something was off. There was something weird in her crib. From afar it looked like maybe the stuffing from one of her toys had come out. Upon closer inspection I realized that it was vomit. Willa and all of her crib toys were covered in vomit. And, it was not fresh, which means that she vomited sometime in the middle of the night, went back to sleep and then rolled around in it.

Last night, I took a muscle relaxant because I threw my back out. I regret that decision now, because it obviously kept me from hearing my daughter vomiting in the middle of the night.

So there I was- in so much pain I couldn't stand upright, coughing up green mucus from a lingering sinus infection, with a sick child covered in vomit. I had no idea how I was going to lift the crib mattress to change the sheet.
So, I grabbed the phone and called my husband who had left for work about 15 minutes before. Amazingly, he turned around and came home.
He took care of all of the vomit stuff and threw everything in the laundry.
Then he realized that standing upright is probably important when taking care of a toddler, especially one who is vomiting, so he called work and told them he wasn't coming in.

A little while latter Willa walked over to the bathroom and started pointing to the cabinet where we keep the medicine, as if she was asking for some medicine- and then she projectile vomited.

She ate nothing but a bite of a pretzel all day. She drank some milk, but then she vomited it up on my living room carpet. She also had some rather unsettling poops, which I'd rather not talk about.

I spent the day wincing in pain and laying around while my husband did everything, including steam clean the carpet.

I am PRAYING that this is just a 24 hour stomach virus, and that Willa will wake up tomorrow NOT covered in vomit.

I honestly don't know what I would have done if my husband hadn't been home. My guess is, I would have been laying on the floor in the fetal position while my kid repeatedly hit me in the head with a book, and occasionally paused to vomit on me.*

How do single parents do it???

*Wow. I use the word VOMIT a lot in this post.

Posted by torrie at 07:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Today we were in an amazing bakery with a fireplace, in a quaint little town.
Our bellies were full with tea and pastries.
Rhapsody in Blue started playing.
Willa was sitting on my lap and I whispered in her ear "this is mommy's favorite piece of music."
Then we twirled around and danced together.

Here is the last moment.

Posted by torrie at 09:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

The doctor thinks she has cold induced Urticaria. Which basically means she is allergic to the cold.
I am super thrilled about this considering that we live in the Northeast, and it's cold about 6 months out of the year.
So, basically, for 6 months out of the year she will be covered in horrible looking hives.
We can give her Zyrtec, but I'm only going to do that if the hives seem to be bothering her. I'm not going to give her medication if it's just for cosmetic purposes.
Also, she can have a pretty severe reaction, so the doctor wants me to carry Benadryl with us at all times.
Tomorrow, we are supposed to start a swim class at the Y. The doctor said that if the water isn't warm enough we may not be able to do it.

I'm trying not to be a drama queen about this. Some kids outgrow it. Some don't.

I'm sad though. Sad that Willa won't be able to play in the snow, or go skiing with her father.

Sad, that for six months out of the year, my kid won't be able to play outside.

Posted by torrie at 12:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (23)

Yesterday morning when I got Willa out of her crib I noticed that one of her hands looked mottled and like it had bug bites on it. I assumed it was spider bites.
She was acting fine and it didn't seem to be bothering her.

We had our first class at the Y shortly after breakfast. It was awesome and Willa had a great time. However, during the class I watched as what I had thought were bug bites, spread up her arms and then onto her face.

(this picture does not do it justice- it looked HORRIBLE)

My husband happened to meet us at the class (he was just getting home from work after working a 25 hour shift) and he decided to call the doctor. Our doctor wasn't in the office, so we spoke to his partner. he wanted us to bring Willa in.
We really love Willa's pediatrician, but he's in the city, so it's a major pain in the ass to see him.

So we took Willa to get something to eat, during which time her rash got even worse- her arms and face were covered in hives, and then I drove into the city with Willa and my husband sleeping in the car. When Willa woke up her rash was gone. We were right outside the pediatricians office, we had driven all the way in to the city, and now her rash was gone. So, we went in to the pediatricians office and told the receptionist that we wouldn't be needing the appointment. Then we walked around our old neighbor hood for a while.
It was cold yesterday, and when we had walked for a bit, we noticed that Willa's rash was starting to come back, But, we also noticed something else, whenever we went inside her rash got better.
So, the cold made it worse. WEIRD.
The doctor ended up calling us and he wasn't that worried about it because Willa didn't have a fever, and she didn't seem itchy.

Today, when Willa woke up she didn't have a spot on her.

Then we ran some errands. We were hardly outside- just walking from the car into stores, but her cheeks got a little splotchy. When we came back home her skin looked normal again- that is until we took Dexter for a walk this afternoon. As we walked, Willa's face broke out into hives. She looked like she had some horrible disease. When I brought her home and took off her coat I realized that the rash was on her arms again too.

We have no idea what's going on.
Is she allergic to the cold? Is it just a reaction to a bug bite that is exacerbated by the cold?
My husband is currently on the computer doing some research.
Tomorrow I'll talk to the pediatrician again.

It's never boring around here.

Posted by torrie at 07:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I am going insane I think.

Lack of sleep can do that to a person.

Between the cats howling or scratching all night, and Willa refusing to take a nap, I am just barely hanging on to my sanity.

I'm thinking of letting Willa spend the night at my mom's.

I've never spent a night apart from her before, but I think it's the only way I am going to get some rest.

Although, knowing me, I won't get any sleep if I'm separated from her.

I can't win.

Here's my question for you-

How old was your child the first time you spent a night apart from them?

Posted by torrie at 01:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

Dear Willa,

Today is a new day.

Last night Barack Obama became the president elect.

I don't know if I can properly convey to you what this means to me.

Never have I been so invested in a political race.

Having you has made what happens in this country so important to me. As your mother it is my duty to fight for your rights.

I have tried very hard to educate myself. I have done a ton of reading. I hope you will learn from me, that knowledge equals power.

For the last eight years we have had a president who is an embarrassment. He has made terrible decisions and refuses to hold himself accountable. He has disregarded science. He has made choices based on who his friends are. He has let his personal beliefs interfere with government policies.
I'm sorry that he was the president when you were born.

When I was pregnant with you your father and I met Barack Obama. He was friendly and personable, and we had a lovely chat with him. I asked him to run for president so that we would have someone we would feel good voting for.

Even the rest of the world wants Obama to be President of the United States. Polls show that as many as 90% of the people in the rest of the world wanted him to win the election.

Barack Obama is an amazing man. He is intelligent. He unites people. He surrounds himself with good, smart people. He inspires people.

He is not perfect. He will make mistakes. We will not agree with all of his decisions. But, from what I've seen of him, I believe he will admit his mistakes, he will make decisions with the country's best interest at heart, and he will be calm and decisive.

He is exactly what this country needs.

For the past eight years I have not been proud to be an American. In fact, I have been embarrassed.
But, now things will be different.

I really, truly believe that Obama will lead this country in a new direction.

Last night history was made. Barack Obama became the first African-American president elect. Now, you might not understand the importance of that, because you are being raised in a household where people are not judged based on their skin color, but it is a major accomplishment for this country. I wish that it wasn't even an issue, but it is. However, Obama becoming president elect shows that this country is changing for the better. We are moving forward.

He was the right man for the job regardless of his skin color, but the fact that he's African-American is the cherry on top.

I only wish your grand father, and your great grandmother Winnie, who you were named after, were alive to see this. They would have been so happy. They always fought prejudice.

More people than ever voted. Please know that if the people lead, eventually the leaders will follow. We really can make a difference. I believe that now. Never stop fighting for what you beleive in. Never give up the fight. Amazing things can happen.

Today, when I woke up, the world felt different. I am filled with hope- which is a pretty amazing thing considering what a cynic I can be.

I see the light at the end of this long, dark, eight year tunnel.

I cry tears of joy when I think that you will grow up with this amazing man as president.

I am excited for your future.

Love,

Mama

Posted by torrie at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Posted by torrie at 07:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Last Saturday (the 18th) I woke up feeling crappy, but that's nothing new these days. I had plans to meet my friend Cass and I really didn't want to break them, so I went anyway. I sat across for her and tried to drink my tea, but I just felt worse and worse. Finally Cass, who had been watching me turn green, suggested we get together another time and I go home and rest. Within a half an hour of getting home I was puking up everything I had ever eaten, ever. I spent the rest of the weekend- the weekend when I was supposed to get so much accomplished because every other weekend was booked up- laying on the couch.

Then, on Monday, we noticed that Dexter had a hot spot. He's had a lot of them in his 8 years and we've learned how to treat them ourselves. So we did just that. Until it got so bad that I was up half the night with him on Tuesday/ Wednesday morning. On Wednesday evening I took him to the vet and had to hold him down while they stuck him with needles. His infection was really bad- he had a fever. He was in so much pain and wouldn't even get off the couch to eat- that's the first time in his life he's been so sick that he wasn't interested in food. He has spent the last week wearing an e-collar almost every minute and hardly getting up off the couch. He's miserable.

On Wednesday night, after spending almost $500 at the vet, The husband and I had a talk about money. I've been asking him for months what our credit card balance was and he wouldn't tell me. I finally got him to tell me. Big mistake. It was almost 4 times what I thought it was. I was devastated. I thought that after this last year of training, when my husband starts making quadruple what he makes now, that I wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. But, now I realize that there will be credit card debt and student loans to pay. Plus, the car that my husband drives to work is falling apart and will need to be replaced soon, and Willa will be starting preschool next fall. I am so sick of worrying about money and I thought there was an end in sight, but now I see that I was wrong.

On Thursday I took Willa for a long walk. On the way back home she started to get very whiney. I was rushing to get her home and when I pushed the stroller off the curb to cross the street, the stroller flipped over and Willa landed on her face with the stroller on top of her. There was blood everywhere. Her mouth was full of blood. I couldn't even tell where the blood was coming from. I took her inside and washed her up. and the bleeding stopped and she was fine except for two fat lips and a bruised face. I however, was completely traumatized. And worth mentioning- I was wearing my only good winter coat, which is camel colored and my new fingerless winter white gloves, when the accident occurred. They were both covered in blood. So not important in the grand scheme of things, but still sucks.
After I got Willa all cleaned up I realized that Mookie was walking around crying and going in and out of the litter box and the bathtub. So I called the vet and they told me to bring him in right away. The vet said that if he had a blocked urethra again they would do surgery on him the next day. I can't take Willa to the vet with me because she has doctor anxiety and the last time we were there she screamed the ENTIRE TIME.
So, I called my husband and asked him to come home. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a doctor to leave work because his cat is sick? But, he came home anyway and he took Mookie to the vet. We were surprised to Find out that he didn't have a blocked urethra. Now he has a new problem- inflamed bladder. This is, of course, after he is on two different medications and a dietary supplement, and prescription food. We were relieved to find out that Mookie didn't need surgery, but the new drug (on top of his other drugs) that they want to put him on indefinitely, costs $120 a month.

Friday was a fairly good day with the exception of Willa's face being swollen up, and Dexter and Mookie being Sick. Then Friday night my mom (who was staying with us for the weekend) got a call from her husband- their dog, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer- wouldn't eat.

On Saturday morning my mom's dog died.

On Saturday afternoon I had to drive into the city in the pouring rain for a photo shoot. When I booked the shoot the woman gave me the impression that I would be shooting six people. The day before I found out that it was fourteen people. When I got there I found out that five of the people were children, the oldest one was six. You try photographing fourteen people at the same time. IT'S NOT EASY.

Sunday was actually a good day. We took Willa to an orchard/farm in the morning, and saw Coldplay at night.

Last night (Monday) my husband was at work (he's doing a week of the night shift) and I let Dexter out into the backyard right before bed. I was watching him out the window and I saw him poop, and then I saw him turn around and EAT HIS OWN POOP. Then I died.
I realized that when I saw him eating something in the backyard earlier in the day that it might have also been poop.
I went to sleep thoroughly disgusted.

This morning I woke up and let Dexter out of our bedroom and went in to Willa's room to get her. I changed her diaper and took her down to the living room. Dexter was laying on the couch and right below him on the carpet was a pile of vomited up poop. I cleaned it up and let Dexter out in the backyard. I watched him pee three times and poop. I made sure he didn't eat the poop. About an hour later he was acting like he needed to go out again so I let him out and he peed a ton. 45 minutes later I walked into the living room and he was sitting on our arm chair and he looked weird. And that's when I heard it- the sound of urine hitting fabric. He peed all over our chair. I let him out again and he peed a bunch more. We know that the steroids that the doctor gave him for his infection is causing this, the only other time he's peed in the house he was on steroids- but still- he didn't drink that much water, so I'm not sure how he can produce so much pee.

My husband came home from work and steam cleaned the chair (we had borrowed my mother's steam cleaner to clean our carpets- score!) while I went to the basement to do some laundry. When I got to the basement I realized that the heavy rain we got over night had caused some flooding.

And then my head exploded.

The end.

Posted by torrie at 01:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

God, I love her.

Posted by torrie at 08:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I used to be thin.

Wear a bikini, walk around naked, clothes looked cute on me, THIN.

Now, NOT SO MUCH.

When I was 23 I moved to Boston to be with my husband, who went to college and medical school there.
I had been a pastry chef for 4 years. I worked long hours. It was VERY physical. And, I would often go for hours on end without eating. Such was life in the culinary industry.
I was thin and muscular.

When I moved to Boston I got a job managing a cafe/chocolate shop. They were famous for their hot chocolate. I had a hot chocolate for breakfast every morning (I made it with soy milk because I thought I was being healthy, but I didn't take into account soy milk's fat content). For lunch I often had a bagel with egg salad.

Between that and eating the typical college food that I was surrounded by, I gained between 10-15 lbs that year. The freshman 15, at age 23.

Because I had been so slim to begin with, the extra weight by no means made me fat, it just made me average.

The next year the stress started. I wish I was one of those people who can't eat when they were stressed out, but I am the opposite- food is comfort.

In 2000, my beloved grandmother died. A few months later September 11th happened (it had a HUGE impact on me, but that's another post). Two months later my now husband then boyfriend asked me to marry him.
During the next six years- my father was diagnosed with melanoma, and had two surgeries to remove the growth in his cheek. We got married. My father had two shoulder surgeries, prostate surgery, and spine surgery. Someone very close to us (sorry-can't mention who) was diagnosed with lung cancer, had two surgeries to remove tumors, and had chemo. We moved to NYC. I had career ending shoulder surgery. My father was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma, which resulted in two years of treatment, and eventually his death. Someone else close to us (who also wishes to remain nameless) was diagnosed with congestive heart failure (on the SAME DAY I found out about my dad's cancer spreading), had a hip replaced, had prostate surgery, and has had pneumonia several times. I ruptured a disk in my back, I lost two pregnancies. My mother passed out while driving and was hospitalized. I had a horrible pregnancy that finally resulted in a healthy baby. We moved to the suburbs. I re-injured my shoulder.

Stress, stress stress. Eat, eat, eat.

Right before I had Willa I went to a trainer for three months. My BMI was in the high end of healthy.
I gained a respectable 35 lbs. when I was pregnant.
I lost all of the pregnancy weight by the time Willa was 4 months old- taking care of a newborn and your dying father=very busy and no time to eat.

So, I had lost all of the weight, but my body looked so different. Everything was distributed differently.
I always had an hourglass figure. I always had a sizable ass and hips, but now I have a belly.
My entire wardrobe revolved around my old figure. I have no idea how to dress now.

I feel like I'm in a stranger's body.

Then we moved out of Manhattan- the city of walking.

The move was so stressful. It's so hard to get anything done with a toddler around. My husband's job is not what he expected- he's working a lot more. I rarely get a break.
And I've been in so much pain lately.

I want a cookie.

So I've had a few cookies.

And since we've moved I've gained about 8 pounds. I am the heaviest I've ever been (with the exception of being pregnant). My BMI is 26.35.

I am miserable.

This isn't about how much I weigh, or what size jeans I wear- it's about how I feel.

I feel like crap. I feel depressed. I'm tired. I'm not sleeping well.

I hate my body. My husband tried to talk to me while I was in the shower the other day, and I made him leave. I don't want my own husband to see me naked. That is sad.

This summer my kid missed out on swimming in a pool because I didn't want to put a bathing suit on. So, the way I feel about my body is keeping me from doing things with my child. That is unacceptable.

Now, here's the problem:

I can't cut back on calories. Let me explain-

I've never been a big eater. I spent years working in the culinary industry, rarely stopping to eat. I've totally screwed up my metabolism. When I keep track of my daily calories they are usually between 1,200 and 1,500. Not enough.
I actually think I need to eat MORE to lose weight so my metabolism can reset itself.
I also need to eat better. Here's what my diet looks like now- carbs, carbs, carbs. I go entire days without eating a single vegetable. And I'm a VEGETARIAN.
Now, I just need to figure out how to make the time to eat healthy. Taking care of a toddler does not afford me the time to prepare a lot of meals. I often just eat a handful of crackers until my kid is napping and I can have a proper meal.

The other part of the problem- lack of exercise.

First, I have a lot of physical issues that prevent me from doing a lot of things.
For instance, the last time I took a yoga class I had to sit half the class out because of my shoulder.
I really should have my exercise supervised by a trainer or a physical therapist, but I can't afford either.

Second, time. I have none of it.

At least 5 mornings a week I take Dexter for a walk while pushing Willa in the stroller. I walk briskly for about a half an hour for about 2 miles. Now, this hurts my shoulder, but if I'm going to get healthy I need to make sacrifices, and I realize that with my physical issues I'm going to have to deal with pain.

Other than the morning walk I'm not getting much exercise. I try to go to yoga, but I can't take a lot of the classes because of my limitations, and the husband is rarely home during the time they have classes that I can actually take, so I end up only going about twice a month.

I've thought about exercise videos, but I am concerned that I really should be supervised when I'm exercising, and to be honest, I hate exercise videos.

My husband doesn't get home until about 7pm, at which point I am exhausted and it's time for me to make dinner. If he gets home earlier I try to go for a walk, but that's rare.

I think the Wii Fit would be great for me, but I just can't afford it.

I really want to be healthy, I just don't know how to find the time.

I don't have unrealistic expectations. I don't expect to look like a celebrity.
I just don't want to dread getting dressed every day.
I want to feel strong.
I want to set a healthy example for my daughter. Show her that eating healthy and exercising should be a part of life.

I just want to feel comfortable in my own skin.

I just want to feel like me again.

Posted by torrie at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

My cell phone

My wallet

A water bottle

A flashlight

A remote control

A shampoo bottle

My keys (I actually got locked out of the house because of this)

A tape measure

A box of tampons

My Gorillapod

My husband's hospital ID

A USB cable

My organizer (she tore one of the pages of my calender out)

My necklace (she ate one of the beads)

A jar of sesame seeds

A magazine (she tore out the pages)

Rocks

A shoelace

My makeup kit

My teddy bear from when I was a little girl that I swore I would never let her play with

And you?

Posted by torrie at 12:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

A few weeks ago we were visiting my mom for a few days at her house, in the Pocono Mountains.

We went to this amazing little secluded spot in the forest to do a little hiking.

When we were done we met my mother down by a stream to collect our things.

My mother was standing in the stream. When Willa saw her she started pointing and flailing her arms indicating that she wanted to go in the stream too.

We didn't have a bathing suit for her with us. Nor did we have any sandals.

We decided that life is too short, so we let her just walk into the stream with her shoes and clothes on.

She just walked in with no fear and started splashing around.

It was one of those moments as a parent that I will always cherish.
It was one of those moments that I remind myself of when times are tough.
It was one of those moments that makes it all worthwhile.

Posted by torrie at 01:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Willa loves to dance.

I'm not sure if there is anything that makes me happier than watching her dance.

I figured if everyone had a chance to see her dance it would make them happy too, and maybe in some small way, make the world a better place.

Posted by torrie at 07:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (23)

Don't make me come over there.

Please don't touch your brother's penis (referring to Dexter, our dog).

Give me a break.

Mommy's nipple is not a handle.

Please don't poop on me.

Please don't pee on me.

Please don't hit the cat in the head with her food bowl.

Please don't bite me.

Shoes do not go in your mouth.

Please don't eat the grass.

Please don't eat the rocks.

Filing cabinets are not for standing on.

You are driving me crazy.

Books are not for eating.

Please don't touch the poop.

I'm sure I'll add to this list as I think of more.
How about you? What have you said to your children that you thought you never would?

Posted by torrie at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

So, after an MRI and several X-Rays my doctor has determined that I have adhesive capsulitis.

I wasn't exactly surprised, but I'm really upset about it.

I've been having joint and spine problems since I was 9 years old. No medical professional has ever been able to tell me why. There is no name for my disorder. It's just lots of problems with my joints and spine- loose joints- which caused me to have shoulder surgery almost 4 years ago, bursitis and tendinitis in my shoulders and hips, deteriorating meniscus in my knee, carpal tunnel syndrome, and 5 (at last count) herniated discs.

I'm used to being in pain every day. But, I always held out hope that I would find something to "fix" me. I thought if I did enough yoga, or acupuncture, or massage, or stretching, that I would be cured. I'm all for putting up a fight, but this latest diagnosis has made me realize that I can not be cured.
I will struggle with this for the rest of my life.

That's really hard for me to accept.

I'm only 32 years old, and I'm already in so much pain. The doctors marvel at how my body acts like it is twice its age. (Adhesive capsulitis is rarely seen in people under 50.) What will I be like when I'm 62, or 82? The thought terrifies me.

Do you know how heartbreaking it is to have a doctor look you in the eye and tell you that you will be in pain every day for the rest of your life?

Every day tasks that most people, myself included, take for granted have become a struggle. brushing my dog, doing the dishes, putting my hair in a ponytail, driving, making dinner- these are all things that cause me considerable pain. I can't go bowling, swim laps, play pool, play darts, or go white water rafting.

It hurts every time I pick up my child.

That has been the hardest part of all of this for me- it is keeping me from being the mother that I want to be. Instead of enjoying every minute with my daughter, I'm counting the minutes until my husband gets home so I can have a break.
Being in pain makes EVERYTHING harder. What is a quick trip to the store for most people is a huge undertaking for me- carry kid down stairs- load kid into car seat- drive- open back of car (we have an SUV and the back is really hard to open and close.)- wrestle stroller out of car- lift kid out car seat- buckle kid into stroller- close back of car-push stroller- open back of car- put shopping bags in back of car- unbuckle kid- put kid in car seat- fold up stroller- put stroller in back of car- close back of car- drive- open back of car- get kid out of car seat- pick up shopping bags- close back of car- try to balance kid and shopping bags while walking up front steps and opening door. It all hurts.

Pain shatters your hopes and dreams. It takes the fun out of everything. It makes life more frustrating. It leaves little room for patience.

Pain is robbing me of enjoying my child. I'm so angry.

My husband has been so amazing through all of this. He's so supportive. It must be so hard/ frustrating for such a young, vibrant, active guy to be married to a woman who can't do anything.
His fellowship is not what we thought it would be. He is working so much more. A minimum of 60 hours a week. He's working 7 out of 13 weekends. He's working this weekend, which means I won't really get a break until next weekend.
It's been really hard. We can't afford a babysitter. He leaves for work at 6am and comes home at around 7pm. Then he gives Willa a bath and puts her to bed. He eats dinner and them does the dishes or whatever other chores need to be done. 2 out of the last 5 weeks have been spent on night float. This means he leaves for work at 7pm, works all night, gets home between 9-10am and sleeps all day. Those weeks have been really hard for me- I get no break at all. Whenever he gets a day of the week off (usually because he was working all night) he watches Willa while I get an acupuncture treatment. If he's around on the weekends there are a ton of chores to do.
Both of us rarely get a break. I feel really bad for him. I feel like he really deserves a break, but so do I.
He has ten more months until he is done with his fellowship. Ten more months until his salary increases so we can hire some help. I'm counting the days.

The most important treatment for adhesive capsulitis is lots of physical therapy.
We really don't know what to do about this.
I should be going to PT 2-3 times a week, but I have no one to watch Willa, and we can't afford to hire a babysitter. My mother comes and stays with us every once in a while for a week or two, but that's not enough.
For now I'm going to do some research and see what exercises I can do at home.

Flare ups of adhesive capsulitis last 1-3 years. 40-60% of sufferers have some permanent loss of mobility.

I know that there are people who have it much worse than me, and that I should be grateful, but it's really hard to look on the bright side when you are in constant pain.
I have become Debbie Downer.
I'm no fun at all.
I try to put on a brave face- to grit my teeth and smile through the pain, but it's becoming increasingly difficult and I'm tired.

Posted by torrie at 09:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Today is the one year anniversary of my father's death.

I can't believe it's been a year. Similar to the way I feel about Willa's birth, part of me feels like my father's death was just yesterday, and part of me feels like it was ages ago.

Sometimes I forget and say "my father is" instead of "my father was".

The hardest part for me has been realizing that there are questions I have that will never be answered. Why did he do that? What was he thinking?
I'm not very skilled at letting go.

I realized that, as with every other uncomfortable situation in my life, I have been dealing with my dad's death by not dealing with it at all. I am the queen of avoidance.
And, in doing so, I have kept Willa's grandfather from her.
I should be talking about him with her. Telling her his likes and dislikes. Showing her pictures.
But, I'm not, because it hurts. That is not fair, and I vow to do better from here on out.

I might be hurt, but I am a mother first. I need to put my daughter's feeling's before mine.

And maybe, if I'm lucky, it will help me heal.

For those who are interested here is my father's obituary in the New York Times.

Posted by torrie at 09:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Several of you have asked me to update about Willa's modeling career so here goes-

Oh internet. The lessons I have learned from this experience.

I hope that when someone does a search for "should my baby model?" or "baby modeling" or "child modeling" they will find this post so I can tell them why it is a horrible idea.

Here's what no one tells you about the child modeling industry- IT SUCKS.

Here's how it works-
You are at the clients beck and call.
Every day between 3-6pm the agency would call to tell us if we had any go-sees (auditions) for the next day. This means that you can't schedule anything.
THEN, if your child gets the job they don't tell you that you have a photo shoot until the day before.
So basically, you have no idea what you will be doing the next day until the night before.
For someone like me, who like to make plans, this will make your head explode.

Another problem- go-sees and photo shoots are scheduled for all different times, and they very often would screw with Willa's nap schedule. Willa is about a thousand times more enjoyable when she gets a good nap, so it always sucks when she is thrown off her schedule. There are kids who are good at going with the flow, and do well even without a nap. Willa is not one of those kids.

There are so many other stressful aspects to child modeling-
The logistics can be a nightmare.
Because most subway stations are not stroller friendly I usually take a cab or my car to the auditions and shoots. I've spent countless hours driving around in circles trying to find a parking space. I've gotten so excited about finding a space only to discover I didn't have any quarters for the meter. I once paid $32 for 31 minutes of parking.
I can't tell you how many go-sees or photo shoots we have shown up to only to discover that the building has stairs. I've had to beg strange men to help me haul the stroller up and down stairs.
Until recently we lived all the way on the east Side of Manhattan, uptown, and 90% of the go-sees and photo shoots were down town and on the west side.

I once dragged Willa and my husband to a go-see on a Sunday and sat there for an hour only to be told that Willa didn't qualify because she couldn't stand unassisted(she was 10 months old).

Another time we went all the way down town for a go-see for a company Willa had worked for three weeks earlier. I assumed it was for a fitting, but instead, we walked in and all they did was take a polaroid of her.
I was super pissed- a company who had booked her three weeks ago and had head shots of her needed me to screw up Willa's nap schedule and make a two hour round trip so they could take a polaroid? I don't think so.

These companies have no respect for you or your child. They don't care about your child's schedule. They just schedule everything and expect you to be there.

Recently, a company called my agency at 6 pm and told them that they wanted 5 kids (including Willa) at 8am the next morning, all the way out on Long Island. I refused (as did most of the mothers of the other kids). I would have had to wake Willa up at 5am to get there on time, when she usually wakes up at 7-8am.
The woman from Willa's agency was practically in tears because this particular company did shit like this all the time, and here she was at 8pm making phone calls. The company gets away with it because there are plenty of parents who are willing to do ANYTHING to make their child a successful model. I am not one of those parents.

Another aspect that's weird, for lack of a better word, is that you very rarely get to see the pictures from the shoots. They don't send you copies. I've had to search them out. I spent a while last night searching the internet for pictures of Willa. It's kind of odd to know that there are picture out there in the world of my kid that I haven't even seen.

Willa doesn't get every job that she auditions for. I handle this really well because we're not doing this for the fame and fortune. But, some parents get very upset when their child doesn't get a job. If you are going to be disappointed every time your kid doesn't book something, then child modeling is not the business for you.

The modeling industry is a strange word. Once, when Willa was shooting for the cover of a major parenting magazine (they shoot 4-5 kids and then pick the picture they like best), they changed her outfit because they thought her arms looked chubby in the sleeveless top she was wearing. She was 11 months old at the time.

So, where do we stand now?

Well, Willa is still technically a model, but we do very little work.

She is now on "by request only" which means that I only take her to auditions for companies who have specifically requested to see her because they have seen her headshot. I don't take her on any more huge auditions, or as I like to call them "cattle calls". You have to work for a while and book several shoots before most agencies will let you do that.
Lately we've only been working 1-2 days a month, compared to a few months ago when there were weeks when we were working 4 days.
Also, to be honest, when Willa was younger she booked a lot, but now that she's a toddler, and still pretty bald, she's not booking as much. People expect a child of Willa's age to have a full head of hair.
We're in a good situation now because I feel comfortable saying no and picking and choosing what we do.

So to sum up- The baby and child modeling industry has a lot of flaws. It's a ton of work for very little reward.

Posted by torrie at 03:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I've been thinking a lot lately about whether or not we should try to have another baby.

I have so many mixed feeling about it.

I have a ton of medical issues to consider. Will my body be able to handle another pregnancy?
I keep telling myself that maybe if I lost some weight and REALLY got in shape that my body might be better equipped to handle pregnancy. But, I was in fairly good shape when I got pregnant with Willa. I had been working out with a trainer for about 4 months before I got pregnant. And, I might have been 10-15 pounds over-weight, but I was still relatively small. Plus, Willa was a small baby (6.6 lbs and 19 inches), and I gained the appropriate amount of weight (35lbs.), and I still had trouble carrying her.
What if I had another horrible pregnancy again where I was bed ridden for months, except this time I had to take care of a pre-schooler too?

And what if I have to go through losing a pregnancy again?
That was so difficult, and both times it took me quite a while to get back on my feet.
How will I be able to lay around and cry and eat massive amounts of chocolate if I have to take care of my kid. On second thought, maybe it would be easier to deal with. Having Willa around when my dad died somehow helped me.

I need to make sure that if I do decide to try for another baby, that I'm doing it for the right reasons. Not because I missed out on enjoying pregnancy- nobody fawning over me- no babymoon- no wearing cute maternity clothes- no shopping for baby things- because I was confined to bed. And not because I miss having a baby around, because THEY GROW UP.

The amazing feeling you get when your kid smiles, or laughs, or gives you a hug is addictive. I have to remind myself of how hard it is. I also have to be honest with myself- I don't handle stress well. It takes its toll on me physically and mentally. I'm also not good at letting people help me. So, if I had another kid I'd have to deal with all of that stress-the sleepless nights, the exhaustion, etc., and I'm honestly not sure if I want to go through that again.

Having a second child is, I would imagine, so much different than having one child, because now you have to take care of a newborn AND make sure you are paying enough attention to your older child. I'm sure I would drive myself crazy trying to be the perfect mother.

My life is crazy right now. I hardly have any time for myself, and I am constantly overwhelmed. My husband and I rarely go out, and I've never spent a night apart from Willa. Does it make sense then, when Willa is more independent, and going to preschool, and our lives are finally getting easier, to try to have another baby?

Here's another strange reason I'm hesitant to try for another- I've always had a feeling that I was going to have twins. Most people don't know this, but we're pretty sure my pregnancy with Willa was originally twins. My HCG levels were high. I had a feeling that I was pregnant with twins. When I had my first ultrasound there was something else in there that my doctor couldn't identify. And then when Willa was born we discovered that she had two placentas fused together. My doctor thinks that I was, in fact pregnant with twins and that the other baby was absorbed. Maybe this explains why Willa is extra awesome.
I'm afraid that if I get pregnant again that it will be with twins, and I don't know if my body could handle that.

With all that said-

I have a brother and two sisters. We are VERY different. We are not as close as most siblings.
BUT, my father's illness brought my brother and I together. We gained mutual respect for each other. And I can't imagine going through the weeks surrounding my father's death without him.
Julie wrote a post about this topic, and her words are much more eloquent than mine could ever be.
Having a sibling makes you feel less alone in the world. Shouldn't we try to give Willa that gift?

Having Willa has been the best experience of my life. Shouldn't I do it again? Won't all of the pain and stress be worth it? The cynical side of me wonders if I shouldn't temp fate- Willa is so fantastic that I couldn't possibly have another equally fantastic child- or could I?

Posted by torrie at 10:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

So, Willa stopped breast feeding the other day. She was a day shy of 13 months.

The strange part is that she stopped cold turkey. She breast fed like she normally does on Friday night before bed, and then Saturday morning she refused. She acted like I was trying to pour castor oil down her throat. I thought maybe it was because she is teething, but she went the whole day without breast feeding. Tomorrow will be one week.

Now, I know everyone says this about their kids, but Willa really is an unusual baby.
So, it did not really surprise me that she quit like that, but I was concerned.
When i called the pediatrician to tell him he said "that's weird".
I can only get her to drink 4-6 ounces of soy milk a and she's supposed to have about 24 ounces.
Because of this she is eating like a 16 year old football player. I can't give her enough food.

She eats 3 huge meals a day and at least 2 snacks. Everything she eats is organic and healthy, so I'm not worried about her getting enough nutrition, but I am worried about her getting enough fat. The only dairy product I was willing to give her was yogurt, but she doesn't like it- which is funny, because she likes almost everything.
I'm trying to give her lots of avocado and olive oil.

On a personal note-
I have mixed emotions about the breast feeding being over.
I will miss the convenience of it. I will miss having something to soothe my child with. The insane, worse case scenario part of me will miss having a back up food supply for my kid if we are ever stuck on a plane for 11 hours or trapped in our car in a snow storm. I will miss knowing that she is getting awesome nutrients and anti-bodies. I'm really happy that I breast fed my child for a year, especially considering I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do it at all.

How does the other part of me feel about it?

HALLELUJAH!

Willa has not taken a bottle since she was about 4 months old. That is totally my fault. When my dad was sick and right after he died, there was a period where I didn't give Willa a bottle for a couple of weeks. For those of you who have never breast fed I'll let you in on a little secret. Having someone give the baby a bottle is not as convenient as it sounds. Every time someone gives the baby a bottle your breasts still need to be drained, so you have to pump. When I was really busy it was just easier for me to give Willa the boob. No one was around helping me- my husband was working a lot- and if I gave her a bottle I would then have to pump- and find a way to occupy her while I was doing it, and I didn't have time for that. So, she went a couple of weeks without a bottle. And when things settled down and I thought it might be nice to spend an hour or two away from Willa, she refused to take a bottle. REFUSED. believe me we tried all different types of bottles, but Willa is a stubborn child, and I was too tired and emotionally drained to listen to her scream, so I gave her the boob. I had no idea how I was going to wean her, and I was afraid she would never give up the boob.

*(Hey new moms or moms to be- PLEASE give your baby a bottle. Once breast feeding is established- usually around 2-3 weeks- there is no reason you can't give your baby a bottle. Nipple confusion is a myth. Being able to leave your baby alone for more than a few minutes is important for your mental health. Please learn from my mistake and give your baby a bottle!)

So, yep, for 8-9 months it was all me. All boobs, all the time.
Which meant that I could never really go anywhere for very long.
And the insane irrational part of me would worry that I would get into a car accident and die and then WHAT WOULD HAPPEN!?
Exclusively breast feeding made me a prisoner. I couldn't be away from my child for more than a few hours. And breast feeding was part of Willa's bed time routine, so I could never go anywhere at night before 8pm which was really limiting.
I had no idea how we were going to get Willa to go to sleep without breast feeding, but that first night we just put her in her crib and she cried for maybe 2 minutes and then went to sleep. Just like that.

So, now I have this new sense of freedom.

I don't have to be there when she wakes up in the morning! I don't have to be there for nap time! I can go to a 7:30 movie! The world is my oyster!

I think maybe this is an opportunity for me to focus on myself a little bit. If I can even remember how to do that.

Posted by torrie at 02:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Today I am sad. I was sitting here listening to Willa playing with my mother in the other room- she was giggling and having a great time. I was thinking back to when she was smaller- just a few months old- there was a word I would say and she would instantly giggle. I can't remember what the word was.

Willa is just a little over a year and I'm already forgetting the little details.
I curse myself for not writing everything down. I curse my laziness.

I just feel like life is flying by, and I wish it would slow down. I'm not living life to the fullest. I'm not savoring the small moments.

My kid is waving to everyone. And taking steps. And saying new words every day. I feel like I was just pregnant yesterday.

I feel like I'm going to blink and it's going to be her first day of kindergarten. And then I'm going to blink again and she's going to be going to the prom.

Life is flying by and I don't feel like I'm doing a good enough job of documenting it.

I think the move is making me sentimental.

Also, yesterday would have been my dad's 71st birthday.

I hope the stress I am feeling now doesn't crush me.

Posted by torrie at 11:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Oh. Hi!

Sorry about all of the dust in here.

Where have I been?

BUSY.

Holy Crap.

We are moving in 1 1/2 weeks.

Have you ever tried packing while taking care of a toddler? It is virtually impossible.

And yes. A toddler. In my absence from here, Willa turned one and has started taking a few unassisted steps.

If I was a better mother I would write a whole long post about my child's first year and how AWESOME she is, but MY GOD THE PACKING.

Also, lots of photography related projects. Including, pictures I shot for a book. (!)

Have I mentioned the packing? SO MUCH PACKING.
I am desperately trying to get rid of stuff by giving it to friends, family, and charity, but MY GOD SO MUCH STUFF.

The good thing about living in an apartment building is that I can steal all of the boxes people are getting rid of. SCORE!

If I never see another cardboard box in my life I'M OK WITH THAT.

Also, does anybody need some staples? Because, and I'm not sure how this has happened, we seem to have accumulated more boxes of staples than your local office supply store keeps in stock.
I think it's time for me to come up with some new and exciting ways to use staples. Cuff links? Earrings? Keeping my kids arms pinned to her side when I'm trying to wipe her face?

I have so much more to write- like about how I'm freaking out about leaving Manhattan, about how I'm trying to be more of a responsible adult (Ew! Gross!), about how I'm dealing with my dad's death (it's normal to have bad dreams EVERY NIGHT, right?), about what an asshole Mookie (my cat) is, about my panic attack this morning when I had to write a check for two months rent for the new place after I had already paid for one month, about how moving was supposed to save us money, BUT IT'S TOTALLY NOT.
- But, I just can't find the time.

Next time I move I think I'm going to go on vacation two weeks before and hope that magical fairies will pack everything for me.

Posted by torrie at 02:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Posted by torrie at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I've been in a really shitty mood lately.

Like, REALLY shitty.

Like, stereotypical, fire breathing, crazy, PMS'ing shitty.

I woke up this morning with the intention of being in a better mood.
My plan was working. My kid was being cute. We split a pear and she made yummy (nom nom nom) sounds every time she put a piece in her mouth.

We took Dexter on a nice long walk. Willa pointed at all of the flowers and dogs she saw.
The weather was beautiful

Then, we were a half a block from our building when a man came up behind us and said "Can you let me by? You're taking up the whole side walk!"

?????

There I am struggling to wrangle a dog and a stroller, and it's trash day, so half the sidewalk is covered in garbage bags, and we were about 50 feet from an area where he could have gotten around us, and he thought that the appropriate response was to be rude to me?

So, I yelled at him "Have you ever heard the phrase excuse me?"

To which he replied "Have you? (What the fuck does that even mean? Good comeback douche.)

To which I replied "What, am I supposed to be psychic? How was I supposed to know you were behind me? ASSHOLE."

Then I walked into my building and the skin on all of the people in the lobby melted right off.

So, now I'm in a bad mood. AGAIN.

And I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do in a situation like that when my daughter is with me.

I don't want her to start yelling "ASSHOLE" at people, but I also don't want her to think it's ok for people to treat her with disrespect.

It's a fine line.

Posted by torrie at 10:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)

I think I might be done here. At least for a while. I don't know. It's feeling like a chore.

I just don't have the time. Running the household. Taking care of the animals. Taking care of Willa. Packing. Etc., Etc., Etc.
Willa's modeling career has kept me really busy lately too. In the last two weeks she's either had an audition (go-see) or a shoot on Tuesday, Friday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. She has a photo shoot and a go-see tomorrow.
I am exhausted.
And I spend Willa's naps eating or showering or returning phone calls. It's really annoying how much time eating and showering takes.

At night, after Willa goes to sleep, I make dinner (although lately I've been ordering out WAY too much because I just don't have the energy to cook), eat dinner, return emails, make phone calls, try to have an actual conversation with my husband, and watch TV. I barely have time to read blogs, let alone write one.

I'm sad because blogging is one of the few things I do for myself, and I've met a lot of great people on the internet. But, the truth is, I'm not a writer. When something is on my mind I don't feel the need to write it down. I've never kept a journal. When I write it's forced. I struggle to explain myself properly. I wish we could all just hang out- I'm much wittier in person.

I'm trying to prioritize thing in my life right now. Things that are important to me right now-being a good mother, wife, and friend. Eating healthy. Exercising. Photography. Updating my blog is on the bottom of the list.

I'm really stressed out. I can barely get the daily stuff done. I don't know how I'm going to find time to pack. I'm moving in two months. AND I have stuff going on EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND.
Somethings got to give. I need to spend more time away from the computer. I'm addicted and it's not healthy.

I'll still Twitter and Flickr. And I might come back here eventually.

I'll miss you guys.

Posted by torrie at 09:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (21)

I'm trying to do some research. It would be really helpful if you answer the following questions:

1) Does your baby/child sleep through the night?
2) What time do they go to bed? What time do they wake up?
3) Do they sleep in a crib or toddler bed? Is it in their own room?
4) Are they being breastfed?
5) If they wake up in the middle of the night do you need to breastfeed or bottle feed them to get them to go back to sleep?
6) What type/brand of diapers do you use?
7) Do you use a different/special overnight diaper?

Feel free to also tell us any tips, or stories about your child's sleep habits.

Posted by torrie at 06:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (49)

One minute I am having a bad dream about my father that I can't remember the details of when I wake up. The next I am having a dream that my husband and I are having hot shower sex.

One minute I am banging my head against the wall because my kid is screaming in her crib because she won't take a nap and I know she is tired. So, I end up having to put her in the stroller and walk and walk in the cold and rain for 45 minutes with tears streaming down my face because I am hungry and exhausted. The next minute I am playing with my kid and she is in a great mood- curious and laughing- and I think my heart is going to burst from all of the love.

One minute I am annoyed and yanking on Dexter's leash shouting "LEAVE IT" when he tries to eat some unidentified thing off of the sidewalk because I know it will give him diarrhea and he will wake me up in the middle of the night to go out- because I'm not exhausted enough already. The next minute Dexter greets me when I walk in the door with a stuffed animal in his mouth and a wagging tail. Later we snuggle in bed together and he rolls around on his back snorting with delight while I rub his tummy.

One minute I feel like I'm a fraud for calling myself a photographer because I really have no idea what I'm doing technically- I'm afraid that one of my clients will ask me a technical question and I won't know the answer. The next, I am excited and proud of a picture I took and I feel like I really have an eye. And isn't the end result- a good picture- all that really matters?

One minute I'm feeling self conscious and embarrassed about my post-baby body. And I'm angry at myself for not eating better and exercising more. The next, minute my husband tells me I'm sexy, and I realize that maybe my body isn't so bad, and that in a couple of years when we have more money I can hire a trainer and really get in shape.

One minute I'm totally stressed out about all of the things I have to do. The next, I'm crossing stuff off of the list and feeling a sense of accomplishment.

One minute I am in so much pain. My shoulder, my back, my hips. The next minute I realize that I am thankful that I can walk, and that I have access to some of the best medical care in the world.

One minute I feel like life is too much for me to handle. The weight of the world is on my shoulders. The next minute I'm at the park, pushing Willa in the swing while she squeals with joy, my husband and Dexter standing next to me, and I realize that maybe life isn't so bad after all.

Posted by torrie at 05:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Looking for a Masseuse/ Babysitter/ Housekeeper

Must be proficient at back tickling, nursery rhymes, and folding laundry in a perfectly anal way.

Must actually clean under things.

Salary will be paid in cuteness, baked goods, and gratitude.

If interested please comment below.

Posted by torrie at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

So, BIG news.

We are moving out of Manhattan.

Yes, we are THAT couple. The one who has a baby and then flees to the suburbs. My "cool" factor was already lower than most humans and now it is hovering in dangerous territory.

This decision was not made lightly. There was much thought and consideration and many conversations.

Here's a list of reasons we are leaving Manhattan:

1) We can't afford to live here anymore. We were already struggling financially and we found out that between rent and parking our expenses were going to go up about $1,000 a month next year. As much as I enjoy sleeping with strangers I do not enjoy standing on a street corner when it is cold or raining, so the obvious solution was; MOVE SOMEWHERE CHEAPER. (And sleep with strangers for free.)

2) We don't take advantage of what this city has to offer therefore making the higher prices we pay for everything even more ridiculous.
We're vegetarian and I'm the pickiest eater on the planet, so we aren't sampling all of the amazing restaurants in Manhattan. We can't afford to go to concerts and shows. And we aren't the bar/club types.

3) Our neighborhood is isolating.
We live on Manhattan's Upper East Side. The nearest subway stop is about a 20 minute walk from us. Central park is about a half an hour walk away. We hardly travel outside our neighborhood and as much as I love the neighborhood feel of the Upper East Side most of the interesting stuff in the city is NOT UP HERE. I might feel differently if we lived in a different neighborhood. And we certainly can't drive anywhere in the city because there are approximately 700 parking spaces for 7,000 cars in this city.

4) Dexter hardly ever gets to go to the park. Like I said above, we live about a half an hour from Central Park. Dogs are only allowed off the leash there before 9 am. Willa doesn't wake up until about 8am. Plus, if it's warm out, by the time we get there Dexter is already worn out. There is a dog run about a half a mile from us, but it is basically just a slab of cement fenced in. We bring Dexter there and he just stands there and stares at us like "You expect me to run around ON THIS?" Whenever we drive out to the suburbs and he sees grass he immediately throws his body onto it and rolls around like I do when I see a pile of money. This breaks my heart.

5) When I was young the city was fun and exciting. Now that I'm old and crotchety the city has become annoying. All the PEOPLE. SO MANY PEOPLE. YES, YES THE BUILDINGS ARE REALLY TALL NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY. And the SMELLS. And the NOISE. I'm sick of all of it.

6) Then there are the MANY MANY inconveniences. Not being able to buy more groceries than you can carry. Having to walk Dexter in the rain and snow and having to pay someone to walk him on nights that my husband is working. The elevators never working. NO TARGET. The list goes on and on.

Here's a list of reasons why we are so excited to be moving:

1) Our new place is AWESOME. It's not fancy. No granite or crown moldings, BUT there's 300 square feet more than we have now! And a second bathroom! (We can poop in unison!) And a basement! (Storage!) And OUR OWN WASHER AND DRYER! AND A GARAGE! And street parking! And- I don't know if you can handle this- A BACKYARD! (Fenced in!)

2) We will be living within walking distance of the train. NO JOKE- it will actually take us less time to get to Grand Central Station from the new place than from where we live now.

3) We will also be living within walking distance of our new awesome quaint little town.

4) I get to garden! I can't wait!

5) When we want to go outside we just open the door AND STEP OUTSIDE. Going outside will no longer be a huge production. Also, if it's raining or snowing or the husband is working I can just open the door and let Dexter out in the backyard.

6) There are two great parks where everyone takes their dogs within a five minute drive from our new place. There's also a nature preserve a few minutes away.

7) Trees. Grass. Flowers. FRESH AIR. Ahhhhhh.

8) Two words: KIDDIE POOL.

9) No elevators.

10) We are a ten minute drive from Whole Foods, Target!, and MANY other stores.

Now don't get me wrong- I'm terrified. Manhattan is my home.
When we had to move out of Manhattan when I was 14 I was devastated. I was obsessed with living in Manhattan. When I finally got to move back here 4 years ago I was elated. But, now I'm realizing that I'm not 14 anymore and I want different things. There are definitely things I will miss about Manhattan. There are days when we walk through Central Park and go to a cafe and I'm in love with this city. But, most days I'm just annoyed. When I see Willa's reaction when she sees plants, and birds, and butterflies, I know I'm making the right decision.

So Manhattan, it's not you, IT'S ME.

Posted by torrie at 06:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (33)

Posted by torrie at 11:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Posted by torrie at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I've been hesitant to write about this because I'm sure I'll get lots of lovely emails from some judgmental assholes, but here goes nothing.

Back in the beginning of November we were in Bloomingdale's returning some stuff, when we saw that they were having a baby model search. So, we decided it would be fun to enter Willa. We filled out a form and then she sat in my lap and they snapped a couple of pictures of her. She gave them a huge smile and that was it. We went home and forgot about it. Then, a couple of weeks later, the phone rang. It was the people from Bloomingdale's calling to tell us that Willa had won the contest. I was dumbfounded.
The prize was a full page ad in The New York Times.
So, a few weeks later Willa had her photo shoot. She had a GREAT time. There were other kids there- they were shooting another ad. She loved meeting everyone and seeing everything.
She gets really bored when we stay at home. She's happiest meeting new people and seeing new things.
Willa's turn came and they plopped her down on a pillow in the middle of this big set in from of ten strangers (photographer, photographer's assistants, buyers, stylists, etc.) and she just looked up at the camera and laughed and smiled. She was awesome.

After the shoot we were talking to one of the women from Bloomingdale's and she said that Willa should model. I said that I thought she might have fun doing it, but I didn't know how to get started. So, she picked up her phone and called her contact at one of the top modeling agencies in the world. She told them that Willa was great and that they should sign her. They asked me to email them a picture. The next morning (a Tuesday) I emailed them and less than two hours later they emailed me back and said they wanted to meet her on Thursday. We met with the agency on Thursday and we were there for about five minutes before they offered her a contract. It was all very surreal.

Now, my husband and I debated this and discussed every aspect. I honestly felt kind of weird about the whole thing. We also had 5 different lawyers read the contract (including two who work in the entertainment industry).
We decided to go for it for the following reasons:

1) As I stated above, Willa LOVES meeting new people and experiencing new things. She lights up whenever someone pays attention to her. On the few go-sees and photo shoots we've been on Willa starts bouncing up and down and screeching happily when she sees the other kids.
2) I looked into mommy and me classes in my neighborhood. They cost about $500-$700 (yes, REALLY) and they only meet once a week. We can't afford that. Even the libraries in my area make you register weeks in advance for story time and most of them only let you go once a month.
3) Willa modeling means people will pay her to have fun. We can put the money in an account for her and if anything ever happens to us at least she'll have a little bit of a cushion. Also, we are just getting by these days and we can't afford to set aside money to put in a college fund for Willa. I am super paranoid about Willa having money for school because I almost wasn't allowed to graduate from culinary school because my parents couldn't afford to pay the bill. It would be great if Willa made enough money to pay for her own college tuition. (Although, I highly doubt it because tuition will probably be a bout a million dollars a year by the time she goes to college.)
4) Once she is actually old enough to understand what modeling is she won't be doing it any more. We don't want her to turn into Jon Bennet Ramsey or Lindsay Lohan.
5) We will be donating a portion of Willa's money to charity.
6)We rarely focus on Willa's beauty. Sure, we occasionally tell her that she is cute or pretty, but mostly we focus on how smart and well behaved she is.
7) We will not compromise our morals. Willa will not model for anything that we don't support such as pharmaceuticals or meat and she won't have to wear any animal products. Her agency is really supportive about this.
8) It's also good for me to get out of the house and meet new people. Plus, I may pick up a few photography tips at the photo shoots.
9) The minute Willa stops having fun we stop.

If you are interested in seeing Willa's ads I will be posting updates on Twitter.

Posted by torrie at 02:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (64)

Look who has their two front teeth:

Posted by torrie at 11:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

Things that are interesting to a seven month old-

Water bottles
Glasses of water
Spoons
The cat's food bowl
Pens
Measuring spoons
Phones
Books
Music
Strangers
New places
Crawling
Being naked
Medical journals

Things that are not interesting to a seven month old-

Mommy
Our apartment
Solid foods
Her sippy cup
99% of her toys
Getting her diaper changed
Putting clothes on
Napping

Posted by torrie at 06:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Posted by torrie at 07:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

When I was little I thought using a tampon was insane.

I'm not sticking something in there.

I should also add that I was afraid of penises. My, how things have changed.

Anyway, like I was saying, I never thought I would shove a foreign object up my hoo-ha.

Then, the day after my 14th birthday, I got my period.

So, my mom bought me some maxi pads. I HATED them. They kept sticking to me. And jamming into my butt. And they made a crinkly sound when I walked. I was miserable.

I think I made it maybe a grand total of five hours before I asked my mom for a tampon.

After a couple of tries I inserted the tampon, and there has been no turning back.

It amazes me that I can walk around with a tampon in and not even feel it- I can even go swimming, and yet there are still people who choose to wear pads. This makes about as much sense to me as people who still use a bar of soap to wash themselves. *

(* I understand that there are a few of you who are very heavy bleeders and can't wear tampons, so please don't send me emails.)

What does this have to do with breastfeeding?

Well, when I was young I also thought I would NEVER breastfeed.

I thought it was weird. And gross.

Then I grew up and became a hippie.
And I everywhere I went I either read or heard that breastfeeding was the best thing you could do for your baby's health.
So, I decided when I had a baby I would try. I figured that even if I could breastfeed for a week that would be an accomplishment.
Then Willa was born and five minutes later she was on my breast. And it wasn't weird. Or gross. It felt very natural. And it felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

Now, I'm not saying it was easy. We struggled. Big time. On the second morning of Willa's life I stood in the bathroom at the hospital and cried because I felt like a failure. It took three lactation consultants and six weeks before the breastfeeding went smoothly. I look back on that time and I can't believe I made it through. If you had told me when Willa was born that it would be six weeks before we got breastfeeding down-six weeks of bloody nipples and pumping around the clock- I would have thought that I couldn't do it. But, I never gave up because I knew it was the best thing for Willa.
And here we are. Six months later. We are pros at breastfeeding. I'm so glad it worked out. It's so convenient. I don't have to worry about bringing bottles with me everywhere or mixing formula. If my kid is hungry I just whip out a boob.
Another bonus to breastfeeding that people hardly talk about? No period.
I haven't gotten my period since August 18th, 2006.
It is awesome.

(Do you like how I just brought this post full circle? That, my friends, takes talent.)

Posted by torrie at 11:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (35)

My kid has eczema.

At first she just had a little raised red patch on her chest, but now it is everywhere. Even on her face.

I've done my research. Kids with eczema are prone to other allergies. I'm so afraid she'll have food allergies. I'm afraid she'll be the kid at the birthday party who can't eat the cake and ice cream. And she'll have to carry an epi pen with her at all times. And going to a restaurant will be scary instead of fun.
I'm sure I'll be accused of over reacting, but I can't help but worry.

And call me superficial, but I can't stand that it has spread to her face. Her formerly perfect little face now has red bumpy patches all over it.

During my research I found out that eczema can be caused by dairy products that the mother has eaten (if the baby is breastfed). This means starting today I will not be eating dairy. Do you know how hard that is going to be for an already picky vegetarian? Also, what about the several months worth of breastmilk in the freezer that I have pumped? I guess I need to throw it all out.

I'd love to hear your experiences with skin and food allergies.

Posted by torrie at 09:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (40)

I really don't know what to do.

Next year my husband is doing a fellowship (further medical training) at a hospital that is about 45 minutes away from our apartment. We currently live across the street from the hospital that he works at now.
As you might expect his schedule sucks. He typically has to be at work by 7am, and he usually doesn't get home until about 7pm. Willa wakes up between 7:30-8:30am, and goes to sleep at 7pm, so there are many days when he doesn't even get to see her. Which also means that I don't get a break.
Then there are the days that he is on call. That means that he is at work by 7am and doesn't get home until about 8am the following morning. He is occasionally on a rotation that allows him to come home for a few minutes, but on most of his rotations he's not allowed to leave the hospital because he's on the code team. (This means that if someone "codes" he gets paged and has to run to their bedside.) This (the husband being on call) happens on average, once or twice a week. Those days are really hard for me. Willa has finally developed a bed time routine, but I have to take Dexter out at 10 or 11pm. So, I have to take Willa, who is sleeping soundly, out of her crib and put her in her stroller, and take her out in the cold. This almost always wakes her up.

Some people think that him being on call isn't that bad because he has the next day off. It's not as nice as it sounds. He's usually up all night when he's on call, so he spends most of the next day sleeping.
I very rarely get a break. When the husband is able to help out I usually spend that time showering or editing pictures. We can't afford to hire a sitter. Willa won't take a bottle. And my husband is rarely around to help. I can't even remember the last time I left the house without Willa. I really can't.
I feel bad complaining. My husband is at the hospital for at least 60 hours a week. He then comes home and has to work on all of the chief resident stuff, which takes up SO MUCH TIME. And he has to do it all in his "spare" time, which is ridiculous. Sometimes he plays a concert on a week night or a weekend (he's a musician too). He also has to find time to do things like eat and shower. He really is fantastic. He tries to spend every single free moment he has with Willa. He probably spends more time with Willa than most fathers who have twice the amount of free time spend with their kids.
Next year this will all be even worse. The husband will have a 45 minute commute each way. Which means he's home even less than he is now. And the nights that he's on call, there won't even be a chance that he'll be able to come home for a few minutes. I can only imagine how fun it is going to be to get a toddler out of her crib to take the dog out.
Oh, and have I mentioned that we have no idea where we are going to be living next year?
Yeah. That's another post for another day.

*Update- I've answered a few of your questions in the comments.

Posted by torrie at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (50)

So, we started feeding Willa solids a couple of days after she turned five months.

Our pediatrician wanted us to wait until Willa was six months old (the current guideline).
Some people may not agree with us not listening to our pediatrician, but I just knew she was ready for solids.
The recommendation used to be four months, but because of the rise in children with food allergies, doctors now recommend waiting until six months.

We debated about whether or not Willa was ready, but we finally decided she was because:
No one in either my family or my husband's family has any food allergies.
She was exhibiting all of the signs that she was ready, including grabbing at our food.
She is physically the size of a six month old (she's 90% for height and 75% for weight).

Only time will tell if we made the right decision, but I'm interested to hear what you guys have to say.

How old was your child when you started them on solids?
Does your child have any food allergies?

Posted by torrie at 11:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (31)

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)

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)

If you are a girl baby:

-You must wear pink at all times, otherwise, even if you are wearing a dress, people will ask if you are a boy.

- You CAN'T wear blue. God forbid. Everyone knows that only boys can wear blue.

-Don't even THINK about wearing anything sports related because as someone said to me once "But that's BOY clothing."

-Your stroller should be pink or purple or covered in butterflies. Only boys ride in blue or black strollers.

-You can't wear jeans (unless it's a jean skirt) because OBVIOUSLY boys wear jeans. Even if the stitching on the jeans is PINK.

-You must have hair, otherwise you must be a boy.
To clarify:
Hair = Girl
Bald = Boy
This explains why people do this to their children.

I hope I've made myself clear.

Obviously a boy:

Posted by torrie at 09:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

Posted by torrie at 09:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

I think it has taken me 41/2 months to finally write this because I don't feel like i could ever do this story justice, but here it is anyway.

It was Monday May 14. My doctor was planning on inducing me on Tuesday. I really didn't want to be induced, but I was in so much pain at that point that I just wanted the pregnancy to be over.
At 12:30pm I visited my acupuncturist hoping that he could kick start my labor.
At 2pm I had an appointment with my OB. She said I was still less than 2cm dilated, but that I was "soft and so ready to go". She also asked me if I was aware that I was having contractions. I wasn't. I just felt kind of crampy. She told me to check into the hospital at midnight. They were going to insert something into my cervix to soften it and get labor going- unless of course, I was already having regular contractions.
Labor and delivery was really busy that night so they called us and asked us to come at 1:30am instead.
We checked in (we are in the biggest birthing room in the hospital- my doctor hooked us up) and I was hooked up to the monitors and IV's. It turns out that I was having contractions about five minutes apart so they couldn't give me the medicine to soften my cervix because I was already technically in labor. At 3:00am they started me on a low dose of pitocin.

They pump me up with so much fluid over-night that for the first time in my pregnancy my ankles are swollen and I get some stretch marks on my hips- NO KIDDING.

Over the next few hours various nurses and doctors kept saying to me "are you sure you're not feeling anything?"
My contractions were increasing and I still wasn't feeling them.

Over night I just hung out with my husband and watched DVD's- all the while watching my contractions increase on the monitor, but not feeling anything.

At some point early in the morning I had to poop. I was so worried that they weren't going to let me go to the bathroom because they told me once I was hooked up to the IV's and monitors that I couldn't get out of bed, but the nurse took one look at my terrified face and unhooked me. I was so relieved. I had spent the entire pregnancy- from the moment I first saw those two lines- worrying that I would poop on the table during delivery.

My contractions increased in frequency and strength throughout the morning- still with no pain.

My mother arrives.

At around 11AM one of my doctor's partners (my doctor was at her office a few blocks away) comes in to check on me. I am 4cm dilated.
He tells me that he wants to break my water and insert a catheter and that if I was planning on getting an epidural I should do it now because once my water breaks I should be in pain. I feel really weird about getting an epidural when I'm not having any pain, but I figure eventually there is going to be pain so we call the anesthesiologist.

After months of worrying, and getting an MRI and being assured that even though my back is fucked up, it's not fucked up in the way that should affect the epidural, they have trouble putting in my epidural. It takes several tries and two doctors.

They finally get the epidural in. I sit and wait for the supposed wonderful feeling that all of these woman talk about. The feeling that makes people want to hug their anesthesiologist. I just feel like my ass is asleep. I HATE the epidural. I tell my husband to have them turn it off. The nurses and doctors think I am a crazy woman. They keep asking me if I'm sure. I am sure. They turn it off.

My best friend arrives.

We are laughing and joking around with the doctors and nurses. We ask them to guess when the baby will be born. We hear things like 6pm and 10pm.

All of a sudden at about 12:30 I start experiencing INTENSE pain. It is different from how everyone describes it. It is not in my abdomen. It is in my crotch. I close my eyes and try to work through the pain. We call the anesthesiologists back to turn on the epidural. NOW I wouldn't mind a numb ass.

My doctor's partner sticks his head in the room as he's heading out of the hospital. I tell him that I'm having a lot of pain and pressure. He checks me. I am 8cm dilated. He is VERY surprised at how quickly I'm progressing.

My in-laws arrive. I am aware of their presence, but am focusing on getting through the pain. I assume that my husband will ask them to leave before I start pushing because that is what we had discussed.

SO MUCH PAIN. The epidural is doing nothing.

My best friend keeps asking why I'm not screaming. "Where's the screaming? How come there's no screaming?"

My doctor arrives. She is wearing a beautiful dress.
She had been sitting at her desk eating a sandwich telling her husband that she would probably miss the party they were supposed to go to that night because I was in labor, when her partner called her to tell her I was 8cm. She stopped eating her sandwich and ran over to the hospital. I tell her to take her time and finish her sandwich. She says "Um, yeah, I think I'm going to change into my scrubs".

Everyone in the room is watching my contractions on the monitor. My husband had explained to them how it worked. My best friend still doesn't understand why I'm not screaming.

She comes back into the room at 1pm and checks me. I am 10 cm dilated. She tells me it's time to start pushing. I wonder if she got to finish her sandwich. My best friend can't believe that after 16 years of me telling her that one day she would be there when I gave birth, that she is actually going to watch me give birth.

My doctor and my nurse tell me to start pushing. It is then that I realize that I have no idea how to push. It takes me a few tries to figure it out. My doctor has the epidural turned off which is fine with me because it wasn't giving me any relief anyway. (My doctor later says to me that she thinks she shouldn't have turned off my epidural. She thought it was making me numb, but she realizes now that it was just taking me a little while to learn how to push.)

My in-laws are still in the room. My father-in-law is standing a few feet away from the horror show that is my vagina.

My husband is holding one of my legs, my mother is holding my other leg and my best friend is pushing my head forward.

My doctor laughs and says that this is the most people she's ever had in the room during a delivery.

I am pushing. It is REALLY hard. It feels like the worst constipation I've ever had, times ten.

I am tired. I had pretty much been awake at this point for a day and a half.

More pushing. The contractions are right on top of each other. I only have a few seconds between each. I'm thinking if I could just rest for a couple of minutes...

But the urge to push is overwhelming.

I BEG for the vacuum. I say I can't do this. I feel the head and I'm thinking that there is no way I'm going to be able to get it out on my own. My doctor stays completely calm and tells me I'm doing fine. I feel like I've been pushing forever.

FINALLY the head comes out. I let out a scream. My best friend is relieved to know that I am human. I actually say "Thank God" out loud. I know the rest will be easy.

60 seconds later, at 2:30pm, after one hour of pushing, Willa was born.

There was much excitement and tears in the room.

My doctor tries to place Willa on my chest, but the umbilical cord is way to short- she can barely lift her. She asks my husband for help. He cuts the cord. I get to meet Willa. We are all amazed- when I was born I almost died because my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck AND it was too short. I am relieved that Willa's cord was not wrapped around her neck.

Willa is perfect. I can't believe she is finally here. I feel the most at peace I have ever felt. Everyone around me is a flurry of nerves and I have never felt so relaxed.

I am a mother.

It was worth the wait.

Posted by torrie at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

It has been a month since my father died.
A lot has surprised me- like how OK I seem to be be with it. I mean, I haven't really freaked out- not yet anyway. I thought I might lose it this past weekend when I was at his house sorting through his stuff, or when we scattered his ashes, but I only cried a couple of times. That was weird, by the way- picking up my dad's ashes from the funeral home. There was my dad- who used to be six feet tall, in something about the size of a shoe box. There I was walking down the street carrying my dad. I was surprised at how heavy his ashes were.
I never understood why people need to see the body for closure until now. I mean on Friday I was standing there talking to him and on Saturday he was dead. For most of my life my dad has lived in a different state than me. I've gone as long as six months without seeing him. So, it just doesn't really feel like he's gone. Not yet anyway. To be honest, sometimes I forget that he's dead. Willa is really enjoying her bath and I think "I should call my dad- he'd really appreciate this." And then I realize- OH. Or, I'm doing a crossword puzzle and I need help with a clue and I think "My dad will know this." And then I remember- OH. I've even gotten that "Hey, I should call my dad I haven't spoken to him in a while" feeling. I've even reached for the phone.
I think maybe out of the blue one day I'll have a moment like that and then I'll finally lose it.

I think part of the reason I feel this way is because his death was so uneventful. He had a long illness, yes, but I guess I've watched too many movies. I thought there would be a "death bed". As in "He's on his death bed". You know, a period where the person lies there unconscious and everyone sits next to the bed waiting. But, he was talking to me and twelve hours later he was dead. And I never actually saw his dead body. So, for all I know he could be off somewhere on a shipwreck expedition. But he's not.
Another issue I have is we never had "the talk". The one where he says all things he wants to say to me. Like, he's proud of me, or he gives me some sage advice. He never really said anything to me.
I thought that maybe this weekend while I was sorting through his stuff I would find an envelope tucked away marked "Torrie" and I would find a letter in it that my dad wrote me saying all the things he never said to me.
My dad was always very tough on me- I thought towards the end he would, I don't know, maybe tell me he was proud of me.
There is no letter.

As times like this often do, this has taught me who my friends are. Most have been great, but there are a few who have totally dropped the ball. It amazes me how some people haven't called or even emailed me. I know it's an awkward uncomfortable situation. I know it's hard to know the right thing to say, but the mature thing, the RIGHT thing to do is make a phone call or send an email. And I hate the excuse "I wanted to give you your space." If you know me at all, I don't care about "space" I just want some support.

As difficult as the past few months have been- dealing with all of this while trying to take care of a new baby- Willa has been a wonderful distraction. If it wasn't for her I probably wouldn't be getting out of bed these days. And as sad/upset/confused as I may be I can't help but be happy when she smiles at me.
It's too bad she has to go to sleep at night because that's when I stop being distracted and the bad dreams come.

Posted by torrie at 07:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

-I found out that my building has been throwing out all of our recyclables with the regular trash. This makes me furious. I promptly reported them.

-I got a botched bikini wax- uneven, ripped skin, wax left all over me- and then the salon had the nerve to try to charge me extra.

-I was breastfeeding Willa and I started laughing. Apparently Willa doesn't like when I laugh because she started to cry. She's so adorable when she cries- she has a perfect pout- that it made me laugh harder which made her cry more.

-I have a canker sore on my tongue.

-Dexter has another hot spot.

-I was clipping my nails so I don't stab myself or my child and a nail clipping flew into my eye.

-The Mets lost.

I'm going to bed before anything else goes wrong.

Update: After a night of virtually no sleep, this is how my morning started.

Posted by torrie at 09:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Here's the plan- I have decided that I am never actually going to get teeth. I'm just going to teeth FOREVER, or at least until I go away to college. I will be happy, smiling, laughing, and talking up a storm and than with NO WARNING my bottom lip will quiver and I will let out a yelp of pain. I will also have trouble going to sleep and when I finally do fall asleep I will toss back and forth and wake up EVERY HOUR ALL NIGHT.

Love,

Willa

P.S. What does it mean when mommy sits in the corner and rocks back and forth whilst babbling incoherently to herself?

P.P.S. POOP! (AAaaaahahahahahaaaaa!)

Posted by torrie at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

1) Thank you for all of your amazingly supportive comments and emails.

2) A few people suggested I hire some help. I would love to, but we are broke. We have about $1,000 in our savings account and that's it. We are living off of my husband measly salary. If you actually calculated how much he makes per hour, it's probably less than minimum wage. I'm trying to line up some photography jobs, but I don't really have a lot of time to devote to that.

3) Other people suggested I ask my friends for help. I don't know how this happened considering what a hippie I am, but most of my friends are lawyers, doctors, or bankers. They work a minimum of 60 hours a week, so they don't exactly have the time to babysit. And even if they did, I am HORRIBLE at asking for or accepting help. It is really hard for me to ask someone who works so much and who I hardly get to hang out with as it is to watch my kid.

4) With that said, my mother-in-law took one look at me on Saturday (I was so tired I was slurring my words) and said "That's it! I'm hiring a housekeeper for you!" She had offered to hire a housekeeper when I was pregnant and in bed for three months, but as usual, I refused because I am horrible at accepting help, gifts, or compliments. This time I am going to take her up on her offer. Living in Manhattan makes everything dusty as it is, having 4 animals makes it even worse. Then there's vacuuming, laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, etc., etc. Plus, I have to run most of the errands. You get the picture. Trying to get everything around the house done (I still haven't finished writing the thank you notes for presents we got when Willa was born), and run errands, and take care of Willa, and deal with the situation with my dad is impossible. Keeping my apartment clean is on the lower end of my list of priorities and it's become a mess. I'm looking forward to having some help.

5) Having no money at such a stressful time in my life really sucks. I'd love to be able to go out to lunch, or get a massage, or buy a magazine without feeling guilty.

6) I have 52 emails in my inbox waiting for my attention. If I haven't responded to your email I apologize.

7) I am performing (singing) at The Guthrie Center in Massachusetts this weekend with my husband and my father-in-law. Finding time to rehearse is practically impossible.

8) For those of you who don't keep track of my Twitter account, my dad was transfered to hospice Friday night. This brings with it new complications- the hospice is a 45 minute drive away (without traffic, but there always seems to be traffic), which means visiting my dad becomes an all day event. I am trying to visit him 4 days a week. I, of course, feel guilty that I can't be there every day.

9) Dexter was put on antibiotics and he's feeling much better.

10) My husband has vacation at the end of August/Beginning of September. We are supposed to go to my mom's house (in the Pocono mountains, 2 hours away) for 10 days. This might sound horribly selfish, but I'm really worried that my dad's illness will interfere with our vacation. We REALLY need this vacation. In addition to the regular 60-80 hours a week my husband works, on June 1st he became chief resident. It's quite an honor, but he has to do all of his responsibilities (schedules, meetings, etc) in his free time (and he doesn't make any extra money for it). Then of course he's helping with Willa- he spends more time with her than most dads who work less than him, and he's dealing with the situation with my dad, and he does a bunch of stuff around the house. He deserves a vacation.
When we saw my dad's doctor on August 6th he estimated that my dad had about a month to live. That coincides right with my husband's vacation. I don't want him to have to spend what little time off he has dealing with the death of my father and going to memorial services. Selfish, but true.

11) I haven't gotten my hair cut since February 22nd, and it shows.

12) Willa turns 13 weeks old today. She is a joy. She's been so cooperative with all of the trips to the hospital. She's visited the hospital almost everyday for the last 12 days and she hasn't cried once. Yesterday, she cried for a grand total of about 10 minutes the entire day, and that was only because her stomach was bothering her. Once she pooped she was happy and smiling again. She laughs and smiles all the time. She smiles at strangers. She is also trying to talk. I have no idea what she's saying, but she sure does. She's constantly babbling. She's helping me get through all of this.

Posted by torrie at 11:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Posted by torrie at 06:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Here is a video of Dexter meeting Willa for the first time.
I had a hard time focusing the camera and giving my attention to Dexter and Willa, so I apologize for how wobbly the video is.

Posted by torrie at 01:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Here's what I'm sure will be the first of many videos of Willa that I will be posting.

Posted by torrie at 09:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

In honor of her two month birthday, Willa now has her own Twitter page.

Check it out.

In other news Willa had her two month checkup today. She got her first round of shots (I left the room- my husband stayed with her), and she weighs 12 lbs. and is 22 3/4 inches long.

Posted by torrie at 05:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Posted by torrie at 10:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

-She has red hair
-Up until a couple of weeks ago almost no clothing fit her. Everything was too big. She basically lived in these onesies that come in a "just born" size. We even had to buy some preemie clothing for her. This makes no sense because at her 1 month check up she was 50th percentile for weight (about 8 3/4 lbs.) and 75th percentile for height (22 inches). I'm thinking the charts they use for the percentiles have not been updated in several years- babies have gotten much bigger in the last ten years. Otherwise it wouldn't make any sense as to why Willa (at almost 7 weeks) is wearing "newborn" size and the 0-3 month size is still big on her.
-For the first 6 weeks of her life she hated my right breast. Refused to latch on to it. I had to use a nipple shield. A few days ago she made peace with my right breast, but lefty is still her favorite.
-She smiles and laughs all the time.
-She is happiest right after she poops (Like mother, like daughter).
-She loves artwork. She constantly wants to look at the paintings and photographs in our apartment. She smiles and babbles at them.
-She loves when you kiss her.
-She rolled over 1 day shy of 6 weeks. This is extremely early. I expect her to be walking and talking in a couple of weeks.
-She wants to stand all the time. she keeps pushing herself up to a standing position.
-She has been holding her head up since day one.
-She is VERY strong.
-She does not sleep nearly as much as a normal baby. I am tired.
-We nicknamed her "Gizmo" because she makes all of these weird gremlin-like noises.
-She makes a lot of funny hand gestures.
-She is a daddy's girl.
-When she is unhappy she does a perfect pout.
-She doesn't mind when Dexter licks her.
-She loves taking a bath.
-She is 7 weeks old today.
-She is awesome.

Posted by torrie at 11:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Posted by torrie at 05:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

I have mastitis.
It is causing me to have a 102 degree fever, chills, dizziness, exhaustion, and lots of pain .

This would normally be awesome, but it is especially awesome, because my oldest friend is getting married this weekend. And I'm a bridesmaid. And I'm making the wedding cake. And the wedding is three hours away.

To add to the fun:

-I made a big batch of buttercream icing only to discover that I had bought SALTED butter.
Anyone want some salty icing?

-I went to pick up my bridesmaid dress today. I have gone back twice to have it altered correctly. It still doesn't fit right.
I got in my elevator after walking the twelve blocks (round trip) in the heat, with my fever, only to realize that one of the detachable straps was missing. I desperately need the straps, otherwise everyone at the wedding is going to see some boobs for free. The lady at the tailor didn't secure the straps, AND didn't close the bottom of the bag that the dress was in.
I cried in the elevator.
Then, I had to retrace my steps to try and find the strap.
I found it.
That is about the only thing that has gone my way today.

Did I mention that I'm also taking care of a five-week old?

At least she's cute.

Posted by torrie at 05:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (25)

I can sustain life with my boobs.

How crazy is that?

Also, I know I suck, but please stop hounding me for the birth story.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little busy, what with taking care of an infant and such.

Posted by torrie at 10:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Last night at 11pm we finally thought we had gotten Willa to fall asleep. She had been awake since 4pm- unheard of for a two week old. We tried everything between the hours of 4-11. She ate a ton, we rocked her, we went outside for a walk, we sang to her, we let her suck on our fingers, but nothing worked. She nodded off several times, but within ten minutes her eyes would pop open.
We didn't understand how she could possibly eat so much. My husband even joked that she must have a hollow leg.
By 11pm I was exhausted and worried something was wrong, but she never really cried or got upset, so I had no idea what was going on.
I put her in her bassinet hoping that she would finally fall asleep. I was sitting on my bed (next to the bassinet) when I heard a horrible gurgling sound. Willa was vomiting. A LOT. I picked her up and turned her on her side and for a brief moment she was gasping for air. That one moment was perhaps the scariest of my life. The poor thing was miserable and we were both covered in vomit. She was gagging and crying, so my husband used the bulb syringe to clear the mucus out of her throat.
Withing two minutes she was passed out.
I sat on my bed holding her ,and I burst into tears. I was so tired, and that one moment of her gasping for air scared me so much, and I hated seeing her so miserable.
I spent most of the night awake, watching her breathe.

As I sit here exhausted, pumping breast milk when I'd REALLY rather be sleeping, I realized I will probably have many more nights like last night, but it's all worth it.

I am a mother.

Posted by torrie at 08:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (25)

Posted by torrie at 09:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (25)

I'm working on the birth story, but until I get it finished I thought these might help keep you entertained-

Goldner's post about meeting Willa 5 hours after she was born.

Heather's post about being Willa's half mommy.

Tracy's post about becoming an aunt.

And, the photos of Willa and her birth.

Posted by torrie at 04:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Willa Elizabeth!

Born on May 15th at 2:30 pm
6lbs. 6oz.
19 inches

Story coming soon....

Posted by torrie at 08:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (72)

Hey guys, it's Tracy back again with a baby update. When Torrie and Dr. Torrie brought the baby home yesterday they had NO internet, phone, or cable. That's why you haven't heard from her. Unfortunately, Baby Torrie has to go back to the hospital today with a case of jaundice. She's going to be fine, but keep the Torrie fam in your thoughts, okay? Torrie wants to thank all of you for your sweet comments and she can't WAIT to share pictures and answer emails ASAP. Baby comes first, though, so you'll just have to settle for me, at least for the time being.

Thanks,

Fuzz

Posted by Fuzzball at 05:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Hey guys -- Torrie is in the hospital sans internet connection, so I'm guesting here to tell you the good news! The wee bebeh is HERE! She's healthy and beautiful and very much dislikes having her diaper changed. ;) I'm not going to share any more details, (even her name!), because I want Torrie to have that honor. Just know that Mom and Baby are both GREAT!!!
--Fuzzball :)

Posted by torrie at 03:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)