My Son Accidentally Turned One When I Wasn't Looking

When Eve was born, and I was experimenting with the idea of being a "Stay At Home Mom," the first few months of her life seemed to last forever -- for better and worse. I was terrified (OMG I'M GOING TO BREAK THE BABY) and exhausted and confused and stressed and happy and hormonal and also bored, in the way only parents of infants can understand "bored."

I went back to work when she was about eight months old, and eased into it, and dealt with separation and still do.

Townsend is a different story.

He was born, I took leave, but it was totally unlike my experience with Eve. I wasn't quite as terrified, first of all, and by then we had the help of nannies. I wasn't alone with a baby every second of every day and night, worrying about when Ish or I would break the baby. My hormones were a little wackier, but I was a thousand times more relaxed, and days weren't endless.

There weren't months of endless/joyous/sleepless "terror-bonding" with Towns.

So while of course I love and feel close to my darling baby boy...it's just...it's just gone by so quickly.

How has it been a whole YEAR? Yeah. A YEAR.

Well, and since I don't know how to write a blog post about a baby that doesn't sound like every other blog post about every other baby on the planet, here comes the gushing (followed, naturally, by a video):

Towns is sweet and funny, cute and charming. He is a completely un-fussy kid. He pretend moan-cries when he's hungry, which is often. Every time he gets hungry, he behaves as though he has never been fed and might never be fed again. He is very dramatic this way. Whhhhyyyyyyyy won't annnnyyyyyoooonnnnneeee feeeeeeeeeed meeeeeee!??!

He also fake-cries when we close the baby-gate because he wants nothing more than to be allowed to scurry up the stairs and throw himself off of things.

He adores his sister. He is fearless, and is walking, and running, and getting up and down single steps without holding on to things. (Eve would sit in order to get down even just a single stair until she was nearly two.) 

Towns will dance at any HINT of music, including Eve singing. Or chanting "Let's Go GI-ants!"

He actually naps, which Eve wasn't very good at. He is more or less sleeping through the night, although we have lots of 5 a.m. wake-ups because he's just soooooooooo starving. 

He's shy around strangers, and actually the only REAL tears I've ever seen him crying have been because someone he didn't know said hello to him when he wasn't expecting it. But that's probably more because he's a year old than that he hates people. I think.

He is adorable because I say so, and I clearly have a totally unbiased viewpoint.

To prove this unbiased opinion, I offer you this video, which I wish I could say took the better part of a weekend to put together, but actually took about 17 minutes.  One year = two minutes.

Mahna-Mahna*!

I created this video using an app called Animoto (a Clever Girls client I decided to try out just for fun). And since I happen to know that they have a deal running right now, you can make a full-length video for free using code: CleverFL. It really takes no time at all. In fact, most of the time I spent was trying to decide which song to use. I am glad I had an excuse to try Animoto because I have a special loathing for iMovie and couldn't bear to use it.

*The Muppets movie is like my favorite kids' movie ever. I am a giant, GIANT Muppets fan, and this has only made my love stronger.

For All The Blog Detectives

Not long ago, I deleted a rude comment from an anonymous someone for maybe the second time since starting this blog. The comment stuck with me anyway, as they tend to do.

The gist was about how I'm not a real blogger anymore.

Which, okay. I suppose that's true. And it's not like it takes a BLOG DETECTIVE to note that I hardly post anymore, and that when I do it's mostly to post photos or pictures and write captions, not meaty, important things like about how I took the wrong bus or don't understand the refrigeration rules for mayonnaise. (Yah. I wrote about both of those things at one point in my blogging career.)

It's just...

My life is different now. Not just because I have two small children, although that would be plenty of reason right there.

GO GIANTS!

Guess who started walking this weekend? 

But my work, my company, makes everything different. I work ALL THE TIME. I love what I do, and I'm proud of the company we've built. Are building.

"Staff Meeting" 

But -- and I do feel like this needs clarification -- it's a real company. No, we do not have cubicles (YET), but we are really really real. Like with a real business plan and goals and infrastructure and clients and employees (fewer than half are featured above) and salaries and benefits. And even profits.

It's awesome, but it's incredibly stressful because of all the reasons owning your own business is stressful.

And, obviously, whenever I'm not working, I'm spending time with my family. I make every effort to be fully attentive to my children during the parts of the days, evenings, and weekends I'm with them.

Someday, maybe I'll add my own entries to the already-everything-has-been-written-about-it canon of "working mother guilt/not-guilt" blog posts.

The point of this entry, however, is to say that after the kids are in bed and it's somewhere between 8 and 9 p.m., I am not a lot of good. I use that time to have grown-up talk with my husband, catch up on one or two shows on television, maybe, and mostly zone out playing Draw Something. I don't have it in me to start blogging at 9 p.m. I don't have it in me to do much of anything after 9 p.m.

If I socialize, it's either with the children or after they go to bed, and both of these things require planning ESPECIALLY if a sitter is involved. Which, again, isn't anything new or different from how ALL working parents live, it's just that there are only so many hours in a day. Blah blah blah.

I'm not complaining. I have chosen this path and I am making the most of it. But everything is a compromise. I had to quit my BELOVED a cappella group. I "joined" a book club about a year ago and I have attended precisely none of the once/month meetings. Not one. My husband got me a gift certificate for a massage for my birthday (LAST JULY) that I haven't made time to redeem.

And then someday. Someday, once this company is bigger and more successful and different and it's not taking every ounce of energy I have that isn't going into being a mother, then I will write. Again. And the cool thing is that then?  I'll have a lot to say.

"sunglasses"

"sunglasses"
#MarchPhotoOfTheDay

So before I got married (the first time), my BFF put together a lovely scrapbook featuring photos from our years of being friends which was all of them. Literally. Our parents were friends before we were born, and we've been friends since before we can remember. 

Someday I will post the entire scrapbook here because it is a colorful homage to friendship and fashion, where by "fashion" I mean "I can't believe I left the house dressed like that from ages 11–20." 

If those aren't the worst sunglasses ON BOTH OF US, well. I DARE you to find me a picture of what worse sunglasses could possibly look like. 

For the record, my sunglasses folded up completely and fit into a tiny square box. OH MY GOD 80'S ARE YOU SERIOUS?

"car"

#MarchPhotoOfTheDay
"car"

Those stupid fake flowers in the background of this and the "loud" photo are hilarious to me. I bought them as an "impulse purchase" from Pottery Barn about 13 years ago. I stuck them in a little metal pot in the den of my first house with my first husband. I liked the way they looked then, and I still do. They have come a long way.

Just thought I'd point that out.

Oh, also? My son looks exactly like me.

March Photos of the Day: Days 9-14

I am just going to have to cram all kinds of pictures into this post, because I haven't been keeping up with blogging even though I have been taking my monthly photos diligently!

Given that I once tried to participate in National Blog Posting Month and failed after like 4 days, I think I should get a prize.

Here are some pictures from my life, completely out of order.

Day 13 - A Sign

Probably people got really creative and artistic and inspirational with this one and instead I took one because the "THICK & ROUGH" made me giggle. The store was out of my regular oatmeal, and, well, I don't know. Probably this isn't funny to anyone but me. Those are just some really assertive adjectives for oats.

Day 10 - Loud

This is a photo of my Sonos. It is a speaker, kind of like a BOSE, that allows you to play music from any portable device. It integrates with your iTunes library and with Pandora. IT IS AMAZING. My Sonos app is totally easy to use, and it's just magical. Here, let me swipe, touch, and then listen to all the music ever. 

Day 11 - Someone You Talked To Today

This is my parents' favorite picture of my parents. It hangs on my wall wherever I go. They were, quite evidently, groovy and hip and happy. And while maybe not aloud, I definitely talk to them everyday.

Day 12 - Fork

Over the weekend, we hosted a very small, potluck dinner party based on The Hunger Games, somewhat on the insistence of a very particular 13-year-old boy. It ended up being quite a feast that included (because of course it did) lamb stew with dried plums, Katniss' favorite.

The bowl was for the stew. The napkin was filled with goodies, kind of like a parachute. The orange card had quotes on them, and we each went around guessing who said what.

It was quite a nerd-fest: real or not real?

Day 9 - Red

I've had a love/hate relationship with my stylist since moving to Napa. She is a little on the nutty side and I think she's a hoot...but every time I visit her and ask for something "funky" or hip, she gives me slightly blonder highlights or slightly shorter bangs. This is a soccer mom kind of town, and I don't think she gets that I am clinging desperately to a stylish version of myself (that maybe never even existed) that could pass as a city-dwelling internet startup person.

So I wound up going to the local beauty academy to get the funk I have been seeking.

This was happening when I walked in. It's as if he knew the photo-prompt of the day was "red." TOTALLY AWESOME.

But actually, the "red" photo I wanted to take was/is this:

Yep. I'm now totally Gwen-esque platinum save for a crazy hot-pink streak. And I love it.


Lastly, because that's six whole pictures that don't feature my children, I present to you "Day 14 - Clouds":

Running in the rain. To clarify, she's gleeful, not furious. Fine line. 

"window"

#MarchPhotoOfTheDay
"window"

This is the view from my bedroom.

The last apartment I lived in in San Francisco overlooked an alley where crackheads would yell at each other and, for a brief couple of days, play the harmonica. It almost made it Steinbeck-y, with the harmonica, until the drugged-out profanity-laced yelling wars took over and the guy with the harmonica left.

I miss the city a lot. I do.

But this isn't so bad.

"something you wore"

#MarchPhotoOfTheDay

I don't think I've ever written about Jason.

I dated him when we were sophomores in college. He attended the Naval Academy, and he was sweet, and cute, and one of the nicest, most good-hearted people I've ever known.

We talked about getting married but I wasn't serious and he was and when we broke up, it was harder on him than it was on me.

He is the only friend request I've ever made on Facebook that's gone unaccepted.

Jason and I were together while I went through an epic body transformation, the first (and only) (ahem) time I've lost a LOT of weight. It's hard for me to separate my emotional memories of our time together, which was totally wonderful, and my emotional memories of Life As A Thin 20-Year-Old, because it was so different and...novel. I guess the upshot is that I remember those months vividly.

I have hung on to a few small vestiges from that era. My "skinny jeans" collection, if you will. (Except I know better than to save jeans that don't fit.) Instead, I literally have four t-shirts folded in my closet, taking up a tiny bit of space, reminding me of what I once wore and maybe someday will again. And as utterly ridiculous as this sounds, each t-shirt has its own story.

This t-shirt was Jason's. He loaned it to me while I was visiting him over the one summer we were together, and I loved it so much I asked to keep it. Selfishly, I loved it because it was really flattering -- even if, on a hanger in a closet 3,000 miles and 15 years away, it's not much to look at. But I also loved it because it was his. He was my boyfriend and he was cute and he worked out and had a stocky wrestler's build and the more big and masculine he was the more petite and girly I felt.

And I liked feeling that way.

"5 PM"

"5 PM"
#MarchPhotoOfTheDay

Where the magic happens.

Someday, there will be stuff on the walls and everything I do/use/look at won't be crammed onto desk space.

Someday.

"a smile"

Ask a toddler to smile...

"a smile"
#MarchPhotoOfTheDay

"bedside"

"bedside"
#MarchPhotoOfTheDay

Maybe someday I'll post real pictures of the inside of our house, like when everything we own isn't a complete hodgepodge of furniture covered in baby toys and cat hair. You know, in like two decades.

Here's what you're looking at for the photo inspired by "bedside."

This is Ish's side of the bed, exactly as I found it on Sunday morning at 7:38 a.m.

A. We have textured walls throughout our house. This is sort of an homage to...I don't know? Adobe style homes? Napa is weird. Eclectic. There's agricultural influence, so some "farmhouse" style, and outside/inside decor, and "barrel room," and general "California." And also Mexico? I really don't get it, but the creamy yellow is nice.

B. This is Ish's pile of books, in front of Ish's pile of New Yorkers. Your first question is going to be, "Did you read Infinite Jest?" And the answer is no. Did Ish? No. He started it months ago, and refuses to give it up. He just keeps chipping away at it the way a man makes his way through a 32-ounce steak. His lack of enthusiasm does not inspire me. Perhaps you feel differently?

C. Baby monitor.

D. This is what we use as our bedside table; there's one on each side of the bed. They are a pair of "dressers" from Ikea that Ish got for his "Bachelor (Again) Pad" in SF. They are made of very durable cardboard with a layer of textured plastic stapled over it. Better Homes & Gardens will be calling any moment.

E. This is Snow White Barbie. I don't know why she's naked. I don't know why her head is turned 180-degrees from where it should be. I don't know why she's laying atop the radio in some sort of über-creep stiff Exorcist-like repose.

F: Fun-Fact! BOSE radios can only be operated by their remotes. When you have things like "children" you lose things like "remotes." I suppose we could order a replacement remote, but what's the fun in KNOWING what hour it actually is? I prefer to be perpetually confused and surprised.