 | Peter on Romanticizing violence |
 | Michelle on Romanticizing violence |
| Peter on Romanticizing violence |
| Michelle on Romanticizing violence |
| Peter on Romanticizing violence |
I was driving home from dropping something off at Nate’s office earlier, and I passed a McDonald’s. It has one of those electronic marquees with a scrolling/changing message, and it is HORRIBLE. It can only fit two short lines of text, and it seems like something is always being broken up between screens at an odd place. (This is a McDonald’s I drive by regularly.) However, today took the cake.
Screen 1:
Play Monopoly
Win $1
Screen 2:
Million
I think I’ve figured out just why I like history so much and why I prefer to read about history over modern day affairs. Although I have very strong political ideals and am very interested in what happens in the political arena, I find that I actually avoid reading too much about it. I’m not one of those people who soaks up blogs and books and newspapers and radio shows about politics. Perhaps I should be, but I’m not.
See, the thing is, I’m a very empathetic person – empathetic to a fault, perhaps. The suffering of other people actually makes my heart hurt. This empathy is absolutely the foundation of my political beliefs, but it’s also why it’s often difficult for me to read about modern day issues. Reading about people dying in Darfur or children starving in our own streets makes me want to cry. It actually hurts, physically; when I say that it makes my heart hurt, I mean that literally. I feel a squeezing in my heart and an ache in my guts when I read these things. And other news just makes me angry, so much so that I clench my fists and grit my teeth. Reading about avaricious pharmaceutical companies or lying CEOs just makes me want to scream.
On the other hand, history is calming and even uplifting for me because history is already fixed. Problems of the past have been made better. (I’m of the camp who firmly believes that human belief systems have evolved mostly for the better over time.) We repudiated slavery. Women can now vote, own property, choose to divorce, etc. Children aren’t forced to labor in unsafe working conditions. (Although I recognize that even today, these things still occur in other parts of the world.) I think it makes me feel good and, more importantly, optimistic to see how humanity has progressed. It gives me hope that all of the other social ills I see can one day be fixed as well. I doubt we can ever reach “perfection,” because I also believe that while humans are inherently good, we are also inherently flawed. But reading about history provides a bit of a balm for the sadness and anger that I feel about too many things that happen today.
As much as I still can’t wrap my mind around it, my baby boy turned 1 today. And I was so proud of myself. I did really well all day. No tears, good spirits…yay! We had a simple, fun day. No big party, just dinner and cake as a family.
After devouring cake – his first sugar ever! – and making a thorough mess in the process, he got a bath, and we put our big boy to bed. Nate and I watched some TV, and then he headed to bed, too. I decided to stay up just a bit longer because I was trying to remove all the tags from the MASSIVE amount of clothes his Grandma gave him.
When I was done, I hopped online for a few minutes. I had posted birthday threads on a couple of my favorite message boards, including a brief retrospective of pictures: hours old, 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, and 2 from today. I checked the threads to read the new replies, and again I had to go back to my original post and look at the pictures.
And suddenly, it just washed over me. My chin started to tremble, and my eyes welled up. And I just knew that I needed to have a good cry. So rather than try to gather myself back together, I succumbed to the inevitable. I went to my online photo album and perused all the pictures from Gus’s first month and cried my eyes out.
It was funny seeing how much he has changed, and yet how essentially Gus-like he was from the very outset. Even as a days- or weeks-old newborn, he had certain expressions and habits that he still has now. So often, people think that all newborns look alike, and most of the time I wouldn’t really disagree. They just don’t really seem to have individual personalities at that age. And yet here was photographic evidence that Gus was Gus long before we all thought he was Gus. 
So there are my birthday ponderings. It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that this is likely my last 1st birthday. Even though lately I feel more and more comfortable with the idea of being done with two, much moreso than I ever expected to, that also means coming to terms with the idea that all of Gus’s firsts are now the last firsts I’ll ever experience. I want to hang on to these baby days as long as possible, but I’m inexorably swept along by time. Everyday, he changes a bit more, becomes his own person a bit more. And although it’s delightful to see, I won’t pretend it’s not bittersweet.
In closing, I’ll post the photo retrospective I mentioned earlier, as well as a few wonderful pictures from present time and cake time.
Day 1
3 months
6 months (and hatching a plot to rule the world…)
9 months
1 year!!!
With all his gifts:
Loving his brand new playsilks:
Kisses from Mama:
My horribly embarrassing attempt at cake decorating (I swear, it looked even worse in person), including Gus’s own little personal cupcake:
Clearly enjoying his first taste of sugar!
The aftermath:
I’m sure I could write a novel here, but I’ll try to keep it brief.
So it’s been pointed out to me that it’s been almost 6 months since I blogged here.
Oops.
What can I say? I’ll try to be better. Can I just say, “Lots of things happened,” and call it all good? No? You want more than that? Sheesh. Demanding much?
Alright, alright. I’ll try to come back after the kiddos are in bed and update my blog. Nate is gone all this week helping his family out in CA, and since I have no plans to throw a wild house party (wait a minute, maybe I should….), I should have plenty of downtime.
Until later. (I know the excitement will just consume you in the meantime.)
Regarding my last post, in my defense, I’d like to say that it was entirely true. I really could see in Gus’s eyes that something was different and he knew it. And frankly, he seemed to behave differently for a couple of days.
But the good news is that he has the lovely short memory of a 6 month old, and he’s forgotten all about it. I’ve made up for it as best as I could with lots of love and snuggles, and he’s back to his old self. I’m sure having tons of family in town all of last week for his baptism – family who doted all over him, of course – didn’t hurt matters. Read the rest of this entry »
As you may recall, I’ve complained before about how Gus’s naps and Maggie’s preschool always seem to conflict. I believe I’ve also mentioned the problem I have many mornings when I drive Nate to work, which is that Gus falls asleep in the car (inevitably within 2 miles of home) and then won’t go back to sleep. Once he’s good and out, it doesn’t matter how long it’s for; if he wakes up, he thinks he’s had a nap.
Well, today, for once, I was going to get a break. Due to a convergence of several different coincidences, Gus was going to get the perfect nap schedule in. First, he woke up earlier than normal, at 7. This meant he’d be ready for a nap between 9 and 9:30. Still recovering from my stomach bug, I’m not yet up to driving Nate all the way into work, so instead, I just took him to the bus stop today. Perfect. He needed to be at the bus at 9, and the stop is close enough to home that Gus wouldn’t fall asleep in the car, so I knew he’d nap at home. Hopefully, he’d sleep for a couple of hours, waking around 11, which would make him due for his next nap around 1. Perfect again. Maggie’s preschool starts at 12:45, and again, it’s so close to home that he wouldn’t fall asleep in the car. Then we’d come home, he’d nap again until 3-ish and be up all on his own for us to get her at 3:45. And I? I would have 2 or so blissful hours entirely to myself; I can’t even remember the last time that happened. And after we picked Maggie up, Gus would be due for a final, short nap around 5, which would mean he’d wake up about 6:30. Again, perfect. This is the time we need to leave for Maggie’s dance class. Read the rest of this entry »
Ya know what I hate the most about blogging? The pressure to come up with witty titles. If you haven’t noticed, I mostly suck at it. Every once in awhile, I come up with a good one. I think the No one expects the Spanish Panic (Attack) one was pretty good, and Faith and begorrah was a nice little homage to my Irishness. But for the most part, I come up with pretty boring stuff like On Books.
Be patient. I’m trying to improve. And if all else fails, I’ll enlist the services of my husband who, for better or for worse (usually for worse) is the King of the Bad Pun. It is his gift, it is his curse.
Thanks to my dear friend, Stef, who lent me the book A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore several months ago (and I’ve just now gotten around to reading), I’ve come to an important realization:
The best books tend to be the ones you can’t possibly describe. If you can fit it into a neat little package, it’s probably lacking a lot in creativity and imagination. It might still be a decent read, especially if the writing is good, but it’s not going to leave any deep imprint on your brain.
I think of it sort of like good food. Sure, I might get a really good burger at a chain joint, but am I going to think of it in again in a week? Unlikely. A month? Probably not. A year? Almost certainly not. But I can still almost taste in my mouth the fabulous lamb chops at a local Middle Eastern restaurant. The way they almost melt in your mouth. The hint of garlic. The buttery rice it’s piled on, loaded with tiny, slivered almonds.
And I gotta tell you, I’m not even halfway through A Dirty Job, but right now, I’m expecting to remember that melt-in-your-mouth literary flavor and tiny, slivered bibliophile almonds for a long time.
But my kids light up my life. Truly. Any given day with them must give me a zillion different joys. Even today, when I’m running a 102 degree fever and battling a terrible stomach bug, they still find ways to delight me. This list only scratches the surface:
* I woke up earlier than Gus this morning. About a half an hour after I got up, I tried to sneak into the room for a second. He was already up and hanging out quietly, but when he turned his head to smile at me in the half light, it was brilliant enough to light up the room.
* I was nursing Gus at nap time, getting ready to put him down. Maggie knows we have to be quiet during this time. All of a sudden, the kitchen timer that I had set 45 minutes ago and forgotten about began beeping. And beeping. It’s a constant beep. In horror, I tried to shield Gus’s ears, so he wouldn’t be awakened. And I looked up, to find Maggie looking at me with a big “oops!” face, covering her mouth with her hand, eyebrows raised. Such a knowing look, at the same time paired with her silky Ariel jammies, a reallllly badly done ponytail created by Daddy that she insisted on leaving in, and a bright red bow thrown in for some color zip. It was simply too comical.
* Gus woke up from his first nap just as I got another Urgent Call to the Bathroom. With no prompting, Maggie ran back into the room to keep him company until I could come get him. As I sat miserably on the toilet, I still couldn’t help but smile as I heard Maggie, mimicking my own interactions with Gus, saying in this exaggerated baby talk, “Hi, little man! Aren’t you just so cute? Yes, you are! You’re such a Sweet Bo-oy!” And when I was finally able to get to the bedroom myself, I found her still prattling onto him as he stared up at her in complete awe and worship. They absolutely adore each other.
* Maggie wanted me to open the curtains, but I said no because the sun comes in really badly and makes it VERY hot in here. A couple minutes later, she walks over (sad ponytail now gone, but Ariel jammies and bright red bow still in place) and says, “Mommy, I’d like to be warmer.” And I said, “Well, you could put on some warmer clothes.” And she shot back with a very patronizing, “Oh no, no, no,” complete with hand waving. “I believe I need some sunlight.” How could I say no to that?
* Maggie asked me for something that I can’t even remember now, and I told her no. So she gave me her favorite retort of lately, “Fine, then, I’m going to go to my room!” And then she downright STORMED down the hallway, nose held high, arms swinging, hips swaying, feet pounding, while saying to her doll, “C’mon, Baby, let’s go to my room!” I’m glad her back was turned so she couldn’t see my laughter. She’s going to be a handful as a teenager!
* Maggie nursing her baby doll, using my Boppy. She did this a lot when Gus was first born, but hasn’t done it in awhile. It always warms my heart to see it.
