New Year's Resolution

Learn Portuguese? Write novel? Be more organized? ACHIEVE WILDEST DREAMS?

Have made and flubbed all those.

This year, my new year's resolution is to Be Happier. I will undoubtedly be discussing this in greater detail in some overly wordy and sentimental tome, but until then, I can only say, I am off to a good start. Why? Because I got a phone call from Pie on a Sunday afternoon.

"Come over for spaghetti!"
"But we are going to Annabelle's birthday and we won't be able to bring anything and we don't have any pajamas and I think we better go home."
"Why? It's just spaghetti. Frank is bringing some guitars and I have the cello and I already made the spaghetti and come over!"

So we did. After a perfect birthday party WITH A CLOWN AND BALLOON ANIMALS AND WINE, (thank you, Annabelle), we had a perfectly low key dinner with some of our dearest friends. Who played the cello and the guitar to some Avett Brothers songs (beautifully, but perhaps imperfectly?). And to think, I almost said no, because it wasn't just right. But I said yes, because Pie always says yes (for which I give her endless grief).

Resolved: greedily, mercilessly seek out those things that make you happy and DO THEM. But it might take some sussing out and seeking before you realize what they are.

Signs That I Am Doing a Little Too Much

Yesterday, I found peanut butter in my eyebrow, presumably from my hastily-eaten breakfast.

I have taken to sleeping in my workout clothes in an effort to speed the process of getting to the gym before everybody wakes up in the morning. It is not working.

I have ordered all of Christmas off of Amazon. At least what presents I remembered to buy. I apologize in advance for forgetting you.

My lunch today? A brownie and a cupcake, both stolen from random boxes/trays of sweets I encountered around the office.

Ed. note: I wrote this post last Wednesday and forgot to actually post it. See what I mean?

'Tis the Reasoning for the Season

One day last week when Jason picked Lu up from Crenshaw's, Miss Carol noted that Lucy told her we celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah, which we, uh, don't.

Then we were reading this cute book called "Three French Hens," in which the three kosher chickens don't celebrate Christmas. She said, "Kosher means Jewish?" And I explained as best I could about kosher dietary rules that some Jewish people follow.

She then asked if we are Jewish. I said no, we are Christian. "What's the difference?" she wants to know. I explain that Jews and Christians have a lot in common, etc., etc., but that we believe Jesus was the son of God, etc., etc. I clearly need to be taking this child to Sunday school.

And then: "How do you get Jewish?" "You mean, how do you become Jewish?" "Yes." "Well, you can convert, by deciding to become Jewish, or you can be born that way."

Then she really stumped me. "But you don't believe ANYTHING when you're born, so how can you be anything?!" Rather than go into any detail about ethnicity vs. cultural identity vs. religious affiliation, I explain feebly, "Well, when you're born, your parents try to raise you to believe what they believe."

She thinks on this for a moment and says, "I'm ready for bed now." Thank God.

Phone Call with Nurse at Pediatrician's Office

Me: "So, you're probably going to think I am crazy for asking this, but is it normal for a three-month-old to sleep 12 hours at night and go that long with out wanting to eat?"
Her: "Well, I wouldn't say it's normal, but I would say it's great. And judging by his weight, he can probably go that long."
Me: "So I don't need to be waking him up or anything to feed him?"
Her: "You can if you want to."
Me: "But I don't need to."
Her: "No."
Me: "So I am totally looking a gift horse in the mouth here?"
Her: "Yes, I think so."

SNOT

We are living in a place I like to call BOOGERTOWN. Lucy and Milo are over this nasty cold, but Jason and I are still getting through it.

Also, I have been going to the office. With a snotty baby. Good times. Yesterday was actually fantastic, with lots of cooperative sleeping and smiling. Milo is very good at advertising.

I will tell more later, but did not want to go more than a week of radio silence from Boogertown. Over and out and achoo.

I Think I Can

You know that feeling you used to get on Sunday nights? When the clock on "60 Minutes" would come on and you'd feel the weekend ticking sadly away from you? That strange mixture of dread and excitement?

I have it bad. Tomorrow is my first day back at work. Milo is coming with me, thanks to a great program that lets new babies come to the office until they're mobile (more or less). I did it with Lu and it was hard, but the juggling act seemed far easier than making the hard choice between dropping off a three-month-old at daycare and giving up my career.

The juggling act may be harder this time. I have more responsibility and am accountable to more people (read: more meetings). But we're going to do it. And I am hopeful that Milo's sweet disposition and my own calmer, second-time-around demeanor will help us out.

When I think about going to work tomorrow, I am reminded of when I was a little girl on the way to the doctor. My pediatrician's office was at the top of MLK Boulevard, up the very steep hill off Lamar. Every time Mom and I drove up that big hill, we'd talk about the Little Engine That Could and say "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can," which must have been some effort to make me brave.

Tomorrow, I will drive up that same hill to my office, chugging along pulling a baby behind me. I think I can...

Overheard

This morning before school...
Lucy: "We have to bring the stuff for the gingerbread house TODAY!"
Jason: "We can get it and bring it tomorrow -- we don't have to bring it until Monday."
Lucy: "If we don't bring it today, I am going to be furious. I MEAN IT."
[Brief silence.]
Lucy: "WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP LAUGHING AT ME WHEN I SAY THAT?"
[More silence.]
Lucy: "THAT IS NOT A RESPONSE. I NEED A RESPONSE."
Jason: "It's funny because you just sound so grown up when you say that."

In Appreciation of Milo

I know I will regretting writing this down, but I just want to note, for the record, which I suppose this is since I have never done a baby book for Lucy and certainly won't for Milo, that Milo officially sleeps through the night! Multiple days in a row of 9+ hours of sleep. Oh, and I just put him down for a nap while he was AWAKE and he found his thumb and PUT HIMSELF TO SLEEP.

I know this may all go to hell, but I am just appreciating it for now.

Making a List

As much as I reject the early arrival of the holiday season (and with it, all those smug announcements of "I've finished all my Christmas shopping" — no, I haven't bought your present, or any present), I do love the early availability of SANTA THREATS. I used my first one on Thursday: "Lu, what would Santa Claus think of that?" She made a funny face and said in a coy, babyish voice, "Um, I have no idea?" She has an idea, alright. 'Tis the season to be cooperative.