What I'm Reading

I'm very pregnant. The starting-to-have-trouble-sleeping-sitting-bending over and falling-asleep-anytime-I-put-my-feet-up kind of pregnant. I would post a picture, but I'm too lazy. I'm very lazy right now. I have been reading, though, and I thought I would bring you up to date.

When I first started this blog, I felt like I needed a gimmick. My gimmick was that I would tell my stories through stories about the stories I am reading. Get it? Like I would review a book about romance, then relate it back to my own life, then weave in a story from my current day-to-day life. Turned out to be too much effort, not to mention less fun than writing about whatever comes to mind. I overcomplicate things, in case you haven't figured that out already.

Anyways, here's what I've been reading lately, and what I thought.

The Empress of the Splendid Season by Oscar Hijuleos - Another win for Mr. Hijuelos. He's amazing. How  a man can inhabit a woman's mind so convincingly, I'll never understand. As a writer, I don't think I could ever narrate in a male voice. I just don't think it would be authentic. He's amazing, though. I love his characters.

Let the Great World Spin by Collum McCann - Holy moly. So good, I had to stop reading. Does that make sense? The stories were affecting me so much, and consuming my thoughts to so great a degree, that I thought it might not be healthy during pregnancy. These are not happy tales. But he is intimidatingly talented. Apparently the late Frank McCourt said something like after he read this book, he worried about Collum, because what are you to do with your life once you've written something so beautiful.

Wicked by Gregory Maguire - A good reminder that I don't like this kind of book. I don't know why, but I hated it. So much so that I just wanted it out of my house when I was finished. Don't get me wrong, I'm completely impressed by the effort, and I think the writing is strong, but this was not my cup of tea. Apparently, I'm nearly one in a million because it's been made into a Tony award-winning play and I think I've heard a movie's in the works. I would see the movie.

Balance is a Crock, Sleep is for the Weak by Amy Eschliman - I felt like I needed to read something about pregnancy and motherhood. This book was a really funny take on being a working mother. It also made me feel okay about freaking out sometimes and feeling like everything's spinning out of control, or clinging desperately to the idea that my biweekly house cleanings are essential (turns out, according to Ms. Eschliman, who is neither psychiatrist nor any kind of expert, agrees). I love feeling validated.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk by David Sedaris - I love him. Just love him. This isn't my favorite (I would recommend What to Do When You are Engulfed in Flames), but it's creative and funny and I just love to be reminded that somewhere out there is David Sedaris, writing this wacky shit, and laughing himself to sleep each night. How could you not?

The Vanity Fair issue with Cher cover - Pretty decent. I took this to Montreal and read nearly the entire thing during our trip. The pictures in the Cher piece were so outrageous. She's really something. there was a lengthy article on William and Kate, too, and where better to get your royal gossip than VF? Nowhere.

I just picked up Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson from the local Book Exchange. There are so many new novels out there that I'm itching to read right now, but I'm trying to save my pennies at the moments, so they'll have to wait. I'll have a lot to look forward to while feeding baby Jack in February and March!

You

Moments before your first haircut at nearly 2.5 years old.

Very soon, little monkey, you will have to share me. You, your daddy ("my daddy"), and I will be joined by another, an other, a brother. I think of it constantly; while we're enjoying a quiet night of puzzles by the fire, my mind's eye adds a baby on a blanket beside us. How will it feel, sweety pea? Will we have some trouble? I imagine so. You get your resentment of transitions and generally stubborn nature from me. I don't deal easily with change, as your daddy does. I take my time, as you do, to adjust, which makes me a bit nervous and wary. But only a little, because I know that your life, like your dadddy's and like mine, will be so enriched by this new Jack.

I've been raised to believe that life and love, like stories and meals, are meant to be shared. Share our blessings we will, though I well up when I imagine you learning to do without me any more than you already do. So, for now, I think of you and I hold you closer, I spoil you and indulge you at bedtime, I kiss and rock and nuzzle you until you beg me to let go.

To capture you, to freeze you, exactly as you are right now, when you have captured my attention perhaps more than ever, I've written this:

Your daddy smiles and says he knows you'll have a good life. He tells me not to worry about the fears I verbalize (about peer pressure and weird drugs and other things I have years to worry about), because you'll be so confident and because so many people love you.

You are headstrong. You've never been "easy." You're opinionated and unpredictable. You fight back. You protest. And I'll know you'll always be this way (because you're related to me).

You have developed some small fears recently. In a way, I appreciate them because they lead you to my arms and make you seem a little vunerable, 2-year-old that you are.

You're a parrot. We like to teach you to say funny things. When you're particularly chatty, your daddy yells to me, "What should I teach him to say?" This week we worked on "Look at me in my eyeball," from that movie Along Came Polly. We should probably focus in on your ABCs and 123s, which you hate, and mangle. After a couple passes through a new book, you finish nearly every sentence for me.

You're affectionate. You hug and kiss easily when in the mood. You hug and kiss your teachers goodbye each day. At bedtime, you turn my head toward your daddy's and say "Mommy Daddy," indicating that you want us to kiss, too.

You are my favorite part of every day. Always. You're your father's, too.

You are more okay without me than I am without you.

You have the world's cutest tushie.

You are very proud of yourself. When you do something well, you encourage yourself saying "I do a great job!" and "Hooray, Nicky!"

You don't eat much, and you don't let my anxieties related to this affect your decisions.

You hate calling it a day, but you sleep like a little log. Then you rise early, so very, very early.

You're my big helper. You help take out the recycling and feed Boda, you give Bo-bo treats every morning, and put away your toys. You love to throw things in the trash and dirty laundry.

You respect the serious rules (don't touch the fire, don't go downstairs without me), and completely disregard all the others. I secretly adore this.

You remind me that the perfection I so often strive for is overrated, and impossible.

You make me wonder at the depth of that excavation site, at the size of that train, at how very cool cranes and bulldozers and garbage trucks are.

You make me cheer when puzzle pieces fit together.

You make me listen to everything. You make me appreciate language and respect its authority.

You remind me of the importance of touch. How old will you be when you stop saying "Momma, I want to hold you?" I hope you never do. When, on the way out of daycare, I told you I hadn't gotten a kiss or a hug, you stamped your feet and said "Momma, we've got to stop!" Then you looked at me with kissy lips.

You remind me that sometimes we all just need to lie around and take 3-hour naps.

You remind me constantly that, damnit, it's stupid to do something you don't want to. Do we really need to go to Target/the Post Office/the grocery store? Usually the answer is no.

You're obsessed with anatomy. This morning you ran into the bathroom and yelled "Oh no, Momma! You have a pagina!" You assured me you do not have a pagina, you have a penis. This penis (always possesively referred to as "my penis") is the subject of great speculation; its safety is of utmost concern. You take a spin on your Retro Rocket and tell me "That hurt my penis!" I ask if it's okay. "Yes," you say. "My penis is okay." Whew.

You remind me of the importance of familiarity and routine. When we were on vacation, your daddy and I missed our routine. He said this a couple times. It's just one of the many things you brought to our lives that we didn't realize was missing.

You make me want to be better, kinder, more compassionate, more confident, and, above all, more patient with those I love. I fail all the time, almost hourly, but I keep trying for you.

You make me want to write to remember. I'm very thankful for that.

You're funny. Maybe the funniest person I've ever met. I can't count the number of times you make me laugh in a day, even on those days.

Tonight after dinner, you pointed to my belly and told my sister, your Aunt K-K, "That's my butter." I can't wait for you to meet your butter Jack. You're going to be the best, coolest big butter ever.

Thanks A Lot

Me and Baby Jack at 31 weeks.

It's Thanksgiving and I love lists. So here 'goes ... in no particular order ... what I'm thankful for on Thanksgiving 2010:

• A life brimming with family and friends. A brimming life. A life that feels full. And the fact that full feels as good as I imagined.

• Fresh Market ("Freshy Market" in Nickyspeak) and Harris Teeter's online shopping. Convenience. Food. The marriage of the two.
• My son's awesome relationships with his grandparents
• The holidays
• Blessings in disguise
• January 26th getting closer and closer
• My loving, thoughtful husband
• My awesome son
• The caring, patient teachers who make my son run down the hall to his classroom every morning and deliver to me a happy, proud little camper every afternoon
• The whole "fishy kissy ... hug" scenario with Nicky
• Tea at bedtime
• Metallics and holiday decorating. Metallic holiday decorating. Holiday decorating with metallics. I'm so excited.
• Beautiful Virginia and beautiful Virginia weather
• Nice sheets and pajamas
• The novels of Oscar Hijuelos and short stories of David Sedaris
• Merry Maids
• Parsnips, beets, and all the other rooties
• Anything with a dumpling/biscuit crust
• Talenti Meditterean Mint gelato
• Not wanting anything for Christmas
• Having at least a couple good ideas for my husband's gifts
• Thirty-one happy, healthy years
• A daily routine that I miss when I'm gone
• A job I can do in my dogwalking clothes and with my dog snoring beside me
• Benefit Skinny Dip lipstick
• Maturity, patience, self acceptance, confidence, humility
• My son's manners, which he uses 30 percent of the time







This Morning

(I wish I had a bunch of in-the-moment pictures to accompany this post, which would make it perfect and much more fun. BUT, our weekday mornings are crazy couple hours of push and pull with some laughs mixed in. AND I've finally come to accept that perfect and real are mutually exclusive. This picture, of one of us, will have to do.)

So far today, one of us woke up with a wet leg. One of us thought it was pee, but discovered it was just the result of a leaky sippy cup.

One of us played choo choos in his room while the other yanked on leggings and sneakers and tucked in stray hairs and brushed her teeth.

One of us doesn't brush our teeth in the morning yet. The other is starting to think this needs to change.

One of us ate peanut butter toast and drank milk and didn't touch his grapes.

Both of us danced to Dan Zane's hokey pokey. One us did all the moves and found herself embarrasingly winded, while the other cantered around the island like a horsey.

One of us went pee-pee in the potty for the very first time!!!!

Both of us called Daddy to tell him.

One of us ate a celebratory mini Reese's cup, while the other uncharacteristically eschewed sugar because she had the 28-week gestational diabetes test this morning.

One of us walked into our room at school and never looked back. The other hid at the window and watched for awhile.

Happy Halloween

 From our house to yours!

What a Difference a Day Makes

As I lay in bed last night watching the Project Runway finale (fell asleep - no spoilers please!) I formulated a little post in my head during commercial breaks. I framed it around the lack of glamour in my life this week. It's been a little rough. Work deadlines, handsome husband away for 3 days, a cranky two year old, 5:30 a.m. wakeups after too little sleep due to said deadlines, etc., etc. But then, miracle of miracles, my son slept in till 7 a.m. today and fall's in the air and all the sudden, even though I'm in ill-fitting clothing, I feel like dancing in the streets. So, lucky for you, this will be a light-hearted post.

Here's a little taste of my week ... via a camera phone dump. (Disclaimer: I may be the world's worst camera phone photographer.)

All dressed up for the Halloween party today at school. He's going to be a robot for the actual holiday, but I don't think the costume would make it through an entire day at daycare (not that it's finished, anyway).

Finally found the perfect fabric for a roman shade in my kitchen while shopping for Halloween costume components. I came home and found it for half the price online.  

 Poor Nicky. Taking the backseat to Mom's editing deadline. I'm working on my laptop right beside him after serving up a highly nutrious dinner. How sad is that little Burger King meal? He had applesauce for dessert, if that makes it any better. Notice the number of choo choos that come to dinner. This is not such a great pic of Nick.

My daycare drop off wear this morning. You should see my hair, but I would never allow it. I think it's official. This fleece no longer fits. Jealous of my rocking pink countertop? Yes, that's a shell-shaped sink. It's not my bathroom, so it will probably look like this for another 30 years.

Another small victory. I reorganized my bathroom drawer last night. I redid the contact paper, too. That's something I always remember my mother doing, but I've never actually done it myself. It was so easy, I'm tackling the pantry next.

Thoughts on Leaving

In just a couple short weeks, my husband and I will depart on our first adults-only vacation since becoming parents: a “babymoon” before Jack’s arrival. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to get away, to have someone else make my bed, to throw towels on the floor and have them refreshed the next day, to take my time getting ready, to hold hands and walk leisurely down city streets like the good old days. Likewise, it would be a lie to say I’m not eyeing those dates on the calendar without a fair dose of anxiety and, admittedly, a slight sense of dread.

My husband and I travelled often before Nicky. We spent long weekends in various U.S. cities, skied here and there and everywhere, made longer trips to Europe. I really believe it’s  important to get away from it all and see your partner all dressed up and refreshed and enjoying something new, be it trying a piece of delectable live scallop sushi or taking in a piece of art. You learn things about one another. You come back feeling refreshed, holding hands more, laughing about how ridiculous your husband sounded when he tried to pronounce “menu” in German, or the look on your face when that sweet Italian woman presented you with an entire glass of olive oil to drink at the wine tasting. There are still autumn mornings when I push the stroller out onto the street and the air feels just like it did in Rome, and I get a little charge of romance, remembering those mornings with Chris, the whole city laid out in front of us.

But now, frankly, travel seems like a burden. When Nicky is included it means an endless little of things to bring, a car packed with snacks and books and movies and crayons, hours of turning backwards to face him, returning choo choos that dropped to the ground, searching in vain for everything you packed so carefully so you’d know just where it was. When he’s not involved, it equates to endless worrying. What if they don’t remember he means frozen on-the-go yogurt when he asks for ice cream? They won’t remember the steps for night-night. He’ll never get to sleep if he doesn’t have Gordon and Gordon’s tender in his hands. They’ll forget the tenders. They don’t even know what a tender is. What about when he asks for his baby? Will they recognize that as a request for a Glo-worm doll? He gets up at 5:30 a.m. That’s no fun. What if something happens? Will they remember he’s allergic to penicillin?

And then there’s the actual being away. I can’t help it. I miss my child when we’re apart. I don’t miss him at 5:30 a.m., but I miss him when I’m seeing something neat that he’d enjoy or watching other parents with their kids. I’ll miss him to bits when I’m boarding that train from Montreal to Quebec. He would enjoy that. I’ll miss him like crazy when I see other toddlers sleeping soundly on their parents’ chests in airplanes and terminals.

I was in Chicago on business for a couple days this summer and my flight got delayed for a night. I was miserable. I had the city at my fingertips and wanted none of it. I wasn’t interested in shopping. I dragged myself into a hip sushi restaurant and ordered a couple pregnancy-safe rolls. I choked down my seaweed salad. On the way back to the hotel, I happened upon a free summer concert in the park. The band was incredible, the weather amazing, the crowd one of the most eclectic I’ve seen. Like a sleepwalker, I paid $5 for a snow cone and people watched. I tried to keep my eyes on the group of 10 or so Bengali women shaking it like nobody was looking, doing some seemingly choreographed routine in a tight circle in the middle of the throbbing throng. Patronizingly, I imagined this was the closest they’d felt to home in a long time. I tried to imagine a little narrative for each of them. My interest, though, kept drifting back to a dad dancing with his son on his shoulders. Of course the dad was tall, dark, and handsome like my husband, and of course the little boy was exactly Nick’s age and wearing that “I’m having the time of my life” smile I know so well. The tears welled up and spilled over. A homeless man took this as a sign of vulnerability and asked me if I could spare some change. I stood up and trudged back to the Hilton, holding back real tears.

But this trip holds the promise of being different. For the first time, I’ll be away from my son, but with my husband. If my sorrow was missing my family, then this should only be half as bad. I’m sure there will be plenty of time, whole stretches of hours, when I won’t miss Nicky at all. I’ll sleep till 8 a.m. and not watch one single moment of Thomas the Tank Engine. We’ll visit art museums and churches and just absorb the silence. And we’ll come back and be better parents for it, and he’ll be spoiled rotten by his grandparents. And maybe he will have learned how to fall asleep with only Gordon and not his tender. And we’ll remember how to spend a leisurely morning sipping lattes at a café and doing exactly as we choose for the rest of the day.

Tub Talk With Nicky

Me: You'll be a good big brother, won't you?

Nicky: Oh, yes.

Me: Are you so excited to teach Baby Jack how to play choo choos?

Nicky: Yes. And CARS ... and TRUCKS ... and GARBAGE TRUCKS!!

Me: What will be Baby Jack's favorite thing to play?

Nicky: Cars.

Me: Not choo choos?

Nicky: No. (Resumes swimming his choo choos through the water.)

Me: What will be Baby Jack's favorite thing to eat?

Nicky: Raspberries (a whisper) ... and RICE! (Interestingly enough, neither of these would make Nicky's top 5.)

Me: What will be Baby Jack's favorite color?

Nicky: Red. Mine is orange.

Me: What will be Baby Jack's favorite animal?

Nicky: Baby sheeps! Mine is my horseys.

G'night all. Love ya!

The New Addition

Last Wednesday, exactly on her due date, little Miss Gwenyth Claire Robertson arrived at 6:10 p.m. on 10/6. Welcome to the world little Gwen! You are more loved than you can ever imagine and I wish very much that I was there to hold you through a nap and examine your little hands and feet, gaze back at your very open and very alert eyes.

There were a couple times this weekend when my son's body, which is usually--even as I "rub back" at night--alive with energy and purpose, felt so still and relaxed on my knee or in my arms that it reminded me of the soft, comforting weight of a sleeping newborn who wants nothing more than to be held close against your skin. I used to have a slight addiction to picking Nicky up out of his crib at 11 p.m. and holding him for a bit, just to remember that feeling of infant stillness. He's so much more aware now that this usually results in  him waking up and instructing me "Back bed, Momma." As in, what the heck are you doing, crazy??

This weekend we savored yet another Saturday morning at the market, which will come to a close in November, and made it over to the pumpkin patch on Sunday. It was a "good busy" weekend. By the time I put him in bed last night, he was so tired that he said "Night, night Momma. Go, Momma." I wasn't getting the hint. Right before my eyes, he's getting so much older. So much more independent. So much more opinionated and particular about his particulars. I get a little tug at my heart when I think of how much things are going to speed up when I can't focus nearly all my attention on watching him pass his milestones, jumping up and slapping each one with his fingertips as he passes it.

What I'm Daydreaming About Today

Nieces!

This is my adorable, one-and-only niece Abigail Greta. Does it get any cuter? I wish I lived closer to her so I could see her more and paint her toenails and do her hair and have little tea parties with her. Today I really wish I lived closer so I could be there at the hospital when she meets her new little sister, who, according to my Outlook calendar, is due to arrive today (or someday soon). I can't wait to welcome little Gwenyth Lea to the world.

Just a brief post to send all kinds of lovely wishes to the West Coast Robertsons and let them know I'm thinking of them! Miranda, you will be incredible!!

Coasting

Do you have times when you coast? Times when you fly deliberately under the radar just hoping no one asks you to do anything? I have plenty of 80-hour work weeks, but I also have plenty of weeks that require, let's just say, fewer hours, far fewer hours. Last week was one of those. With only one small article to work on, I tried desperately (well, not that hard really, but I did try a little) to focus my extra time on cleaning out my inbox, archiving old files, getting a jump start on that award package, but honestly I'm doing a silly and completely unacceptable amount of daydreaming. Elementary school-level daydreaming. Epic daydreaming. Daydreaming about little Jack and little Jack's nursery (which is being painted this week), daydreaming about what this winter will be like and how our schedule will change this spring, daydreaming about how small my ass would have to be for me to want to wear maternity skinny jeans and what the hell I'm going to do once it's too chilly to wear leggings (because my ass is not fitting into the skinnies, and apparently that's all that's out there).

So this is just a short little confession and a kick-start of sorts for this dreary, daydream-inducing Monday morning. May you go forth and be more productive than me!

Where Has the Week Gone?

Tomorrow is, get this, FRIDAY. Cue a chorus of angels. To everyone I've spoken with today I've mused about how this has been such a quick week, hasn't it flown, yes, where has the week gone? After putting Nicky down to bed, though, I realized it hasn't exactly flown by. Even weeks like these, weeks that seem to "fly by" instead of drudge on (is drudge a word, or is it a verb?), have plenty of life in them.

Monday night I met with two of my oldest friends for a 4-hour dinner. We laughed till we cried numerous times, we nearly cried several others. We gasped a collective gasp when my husband called at 10:30 to see if I was okay. I don't have many times like those anymore, times when the time gets completely lost.

Tuesday. Mom for dinner. Nicky was in a great mood. We shared with Ya-Ya our new game -- Nicky begs to listen to Weezer, then shakes his tail feathers (like a wild man) to "Pork and Beans." Long game of "catch a nudie" before his bath.

Wednesday. Morning doctor's appointment with Nicky. Third day of this downpour we're experiencing. I got all Jack Nicholson on a lady in the Target parking lot when she laid on her horn because I had my passenger side door open trying to buckle my toddler into his car seat while trying, unsuccessfully, to balance my huge golf umbrella between my chin and my shoulder. No, I didn't hit her car with my umbrella (or, amazingly, even think of doing that until now), but I did approach her car and ask her to roll down her window so we could discuss our conflict. She mouthed "Sorry, my window's broken." and drove off. Probably better for both of us. I should preface this with the fact that I had just waited inside for a prescription for Nicky for over 30 min. I forgot all of that when I cracked open Let the Great World Spin by Collum McCann. I am very excited about this one. The first chapter was breathtaking.

Today. Thursday. It's still pouring here. Really pouring. So much so that my husband is off to Lowe's to buy a part that attached to your garage door to prevent your garage from flooding. Because our garage is flooding. He's also going to buy a big squeegee. Which sounds like a fun thing to have. Today we went on a lunch date for french food and stopped by my favorite furniture consignment shop and scored big time. We picked up an awesome bird cage, this wire organizer for the utility room that I've been coveting from Sundance magazine, and a new couch and chair set for the den for the price we had planned on paying for the one chair we needed. Chris is an incredible negotiator. He saved us hundreds. To pay him back I made Thai chicken and basil stir fry for dinner. I still got it in the kitchen (at times).

Tomorrow I hope to finagle a date night to go see The Social Network with my husband. Saturday we're apple picking in Charlottesville. Sunday Nicky has a play date with a new friend from school. So things are both ordinary and unordinary here, up and down and up again, but certainly never boring.

BAM!

No, I'm not having an Emeril Lagasse moment or reviewing his 25th cookbook. I mean Bam! as in Bam! All of the sudden I'm feeling sooo pregnant. And it's sooo close. And he's moving soooo much. And I'm soooo excited. In no time at all I will be snuggling and swaddling a second baby boy. I  just can't wait to meet him!

And now my brain, which heretofore has been consumed with other matters, is swimming with thoughts of nursery paint and crib bedding. And other thoughts, too, like pushing Nicky in the stroller while wearing a sleeping Jack on my chest. And my husband walking our local streets in a year or so, arms full of wriggling, giggling little boy bodies. And tree houses brimming with wild imaginations and scrapped knees and sweaty little boy foreheads. Let the fun begin!

My Life List (A Start)

Have I told you that I'm a sucker for lists? There are a variety reasons for this attraction, not the least of which that it offers a relatively private and busy person such as myself the opportunity to share in a rather benign and efficient way. I'm also a technical writer by trade, and lists are basically my best friend (they're clear, they're effective, they're concise). Anywhoo ... I've seen this list on several blogs I read lately and I thought I would give it a go (since I love lists). The list should ulitmately include 100 items (or more) and its intended to be a work in progress. This is a mish-mash of both near- and long-term goals and things that are planned and just occurred to me during this listing exercise. It does not include sweeping, general goals like "raise confident and inspiring individuals"; these are small, measurable things I would like to do, see, or accomplish. And it's in no particular order.

1. Take a first sans-children vacation with my husband (already scheduled for this November!)
2. Get back into running regularly and take morning runs through the colonial area
3. Allow myself the time to get really, really into gardening
4. Start an herb garden in our yard
5. Move to a reduced work week
6. Vacation in Maui
7. Take a barge tour of England with my family for my father's 70th birthday
8. Summer (2 weeks minimum) in a cottage in the Columbia River Gorge
9. Return to Lucca for a least a week with my husband (the kids can come ;))
10. Columbia River rafting trip with my family
11. Take annual ski trips with my family
12. Spend a week skiing in Kitzbuhel, Austria with the kids around the Christmas holidays
13. Gift my husband with flying lessons
14. Redo our bathrooms
15. Total kitchen makeover
16. Master another language
17. Return to Vienna with our children
18. Really commit myself to yoga practice
19. Have more children
20. Learn to knit
21. Spend a week in a cottage in Maine (scheduled for this April!)
22. Write a book loosely based on my grandmother's life
23. Become a better, effortless baker
24. Create a family reading space on the upstairs landing
25. Volunteer more and really commit myself to a cause
26. Part-time job with the Guild House local interior decorators to see if I like it as much as I think I would
27. Get a brazilian blowout (this is a very near-term, very desirable goal)
28. Make my home office a truly inspiring place with my books, painted walls, art, etc.
29. Get on a monthly facial regimine
30. Take a dog-sledding vacation in Alaska and fall asleep under the Aurora Borealis
31. Take a summer family vacation in Alaska
32. Take my kids to Disney World while they're still young enough to believe it's all real
33. Things to do again in Seattle: romantic dinner at the Brooklyn, that band thing at the EMP museum with the kids, see the Pikes Place fish market with Nicky and watch him giggle
34. Return to Paris with my husband
35. Austrailian vacation
36. Make a quilt
37. Charter a sailboat in Greece
38. Learn how to fly fish
39. Take our kids backpacking to "our spot" at Sugar Hollow
40. Take Nicky apple picking (this fall)
41. Complete my master's degree
42. Sign up for a CSA this year
43. Learn to scuba dive with husband and take a trip to Belize
44. Always read the books my children are reading
45. Read the Judy Blume Super Fudge series with my kids
46. My reading list (of course)
47. Make my mom great from-scratch strawberry shortcake
48. Can home-grown tomatoes
49. Camp in Zion National Park and Yellowstone
50. Return to New Mexico with my husband

What You'll Learn From the Boda Bean

In desperate need of some humor (a week of sick toddlerness, a conference call currently at 6 hours and counting), I have decided to continue these installments. I give you not what my children will learn from me (which could be equally funny if I gave it a real go), but what they will learn from Boda (a.k.a. the Boda Bean, the Bean, or Bo-Bo). To know her is to love her and all her idosyncracies. She was our dog for 7 years before we had Nicky, but now I'm sure she defines herself as Nicky's dog. When Jack arrives, she will happily become Nicky and Jack's doggie, the boys' doggie, because she was born to be a dog with kids. Call her what you will, she's one in a million.

What You'll Learn From the Boda Bean (A List)

1. How to hold your pee-pee poo-poo for up to 8 hours. Doctors don't recommend this, but your mother really appreciates it and thinks it could be very handy on car trips up north.
2. How to love unconditionally. Lose your temper? Say the wrong thing? Fail a test? Something in your teeth? She cares not. And she always wants a hug.
3. The art of the snuggle. Any time at all. And there is none better.
4. How to love the beach. How to love the sand, the water, the smells, the sticks, the ticks ... note: if you love the beach with an enthusiasm that matches the Bean's, we will only have the energy to take you a couple times a year.
5. How to just be. Want to learn how to lie on a bed for 8 hours without so much as fluttering an eyelid? Take lessons from Bo-Bo.
6. How to get what you want. Never stop whining. Don't relent. Keep your own interests in mind. And you thought that was something you'd learn from mom.
7. If they're not your toys, don't touch 'em. Valuable lesson.
8. Don't let the neighbors' kids put a leash on you. Trust her.
9. Don't trust the vaccuum. And move all your toys when mom's ready to use it.
10. Never eat out of reflective bowls. We just have to take her word for this.
11. Survey the scene. Be cautious. Anticipate danger at every turn (except at the beach). You don't have to take to her level, but a little caution never hurts.
12. Don't stick your head out the window of a moving car. Your head could obviously get knocked off. She is one of the only dogs to recognize this.
13. Don't eat alone. Especially if you have a weight problem.

We, Not Me

Last night a friend asked me how many children I Chris and I want, to which I answered "three to four ... depending on, you know, a lot of variables." We briefly discussed the variables, which include my sanity after being the mother of two, our finances, everyone's health, etc., etc. "Three to four" is our standard answer these days, though I know we both lean toward four but don't want to be greedy. We were blessed enough to have one healthy, amazing son who grows more and more engaging and miraculous by the hour, and the older he gets, the larger we want to grow this family. So far, I've had very routine, enjoyable pregnancies and one easy labor (fingers crossed for a second), and life in general is extremely comfortable and easy (for lack of a better word, for surely there is one) for us. We are rooted where we are and in what we do and we have lots of support. Why not ride this child-bearing wave as far as it takes us?

But as said conversation with friend and a recent post of one of my favorite blogs reminded me, more lips to kiss and the fact that I don't have trouble shedding the baby weight are not the only reasons we'd like to have a large brood. Both Chris and I are family people, something I think we recognized in one another very early on. Unlike many guys you date in college, he couldn't wait to meet my parents or to introduce me to his family. I felt the same.

Personally, I am the product of one-of-five and one-of-six, and I have so many wonderful aunts and uncles and cousins. Growing up, all you had to do was invite family over for dinner and it was an insta-party. When I think family, I think big. As I was reminded by the blog post I mentioned, I think we instead of me. If there's a problem, there's a network of people to consider it and weigh options and share burdens. When there's a birth or a wedding or a graduation, there's a flock waiting to share in it. At some level, I guess out of numbers comes occasional drama and factioning, but in my 30 years all I really remember is that we've solved our problems as a family.

In a recent article in Harper's Bazaar Julia Roberts brought me to tears by recognizing that once you're a parent, you think much more often about your own mortality. You produce these wonderful little people and you want to spend a thousand million years growing and sharing and celebrating with them, but you're actuely aware your time is finite. I never want my kids to be in it alone. I want to give them a network, and so I want to give them numbers. And seriously, look at that picture, they are so damn cute.

What You'll Learn From Dad

Since I had Nicky, and really since I was pregnant with Nicky, I think a lot about what he'll learn from Chris and me. Sometimes I worry I'll impart too much focus on perfection or my high frustration level, but I smile when I consider that I'll teach him to have a fridge full cold cuts and a freezer stocked with bagels to greet guests (like my mother taught me). Or that every day should end with a good book, and sometimes start with one, too. It's an interesting and somewhat intimidating thing to consider: the influence you have on your children.

In just under 6 months we'll have two little boys. Will I think about this even more with Jack's arrival? Probably not, I'll be too busy. I'll be thinking in the moment, and most often thinking "coffee" or "diaper" or some other necessary thought for daily survival. So, I've decided to pen these thoughts down now while I have the time, while my spoiled little evenings can still consist of Project Runway and painting my toes and my nails and drinking decaf chai. These days are fleeting. I'm starting with what I know (to be clear, not what I hope) they'll learn from their daddy. Because these are the things he's taught me.

What You'll Learn From Dad (A List)

1. Buy your lady flowers just because, even after 12 years.  
2. If you love someone, tell them. Often.
3. There is nothing more important than family and friends.
4. If you think someone's beautiful, tell them. Often. Say "Good morning, beautiful" when you see them and you're almost sure to get your way.
5. Capture your memories on camera, on video. Never stop taking pictures of your kids.
6. Cooking someone a memorable meal and hosting them in your home is how you tell them you love them.
7. Hold the door.
8. Real men cook.
9. Say "bless you" when someone sneezes.
10. The effort is more important than the outcome.
11. Your father is always incredibly proud of you.
12. Never be too embarrassed to tell your wife how much you love her, no matter who's around.
13. Be an excellent provider. 
14. Never stop counting your blessings.
15. Life is a party.
16. It's not a party until there's music.
17. Real men do laundry.
18. It really doesn't matter what you wear. But it never hurts to look good, and it doesn't take very long.
19. Pull out the chair for ladies.
20. It's okay to cry.
21. Buy your wife jewelry when she doesn't expect it.
22. Make vacations a priority.
23. Your door is always open.
24. Serve women first.
25. Families include at least one canine. Canine gets to sleep on the bed.
26. Salt your meat as early as possible before cooking.
27. At least five excellent breakfast menus.
28. How to cook Brussels sprouts so everyone will love them.
29. Let people know you're there to help if they need you.
30. Learning to play the acoustic guitar will help you get dates. Both before and after you're married.
31. Soak white fish in milk before cooking. It eliminates any fishy taste.
32. Take your wife on dates and make sure you both get dressed up.
33. How to make the ultimate roast chicken and meatballs.
34. How to ride a bike, throw a frisbee, play catch, set up a tent, and start a campfire.
35. You are the coolest, most beautiful person in the world. Your father loves you more than the moon and the stars. More than anyone could ever imagine.

One In Her & One On Her

Does the title sound a little crude? Sorry. It's not what you think. It's from an interview with Dolly Parton on Fresh Air this afternoon. It's still not what you think. She was referring to her life growing up and how her mother was kind of all over the place because for 10 years she had "one in her and one on her," one as in children.

(An aside: Is there anything better than Dolly Parton? If you don't completely agree, then you need to listen to this interview. I grew up idolizing Dolly and all her glitz. I think Jolene is easily one of the best songs ever written, and Smoky Mountain Christmas is my favorite piece of holiday kitsch. If the glitz and the voice and Smoky Mountain Christmas weren't enough, she is just downright fabulous in that interview. You really should listen.)

Anyway, back to Dolly's mom. That comment hit a nerve. Nicky and I had a great weekend (my husband took a brief and long overdue trip out to see his brother's family in Oregon) and he was so stinking cute, but he was also very, very much clingy and over the top in love with me. I told my husband that I think Nicky assumes that I am growing my belly to make room for him to get back in. Now, I love sloppy kisses and hugs around the neck and hugs around the knees and funny little toddler questions whispered in my ear, but was also pretty much exhausted at the end of each day. When I finally had a chance to lie down in the evenings, my little man Jack would start in on a series of beginner acrobatics. I had forgotten how wonderful it feels, but at the same time, by around 3:30 p.m. today, precisely when I found myself listening to Dolly's peppy little answers on public radio, I felt ... bedraggled. Tired. A little huge. I felt like a big old tired house on wheels. While lugging Nicky around Target because he refused to sit in the cart, I felt like a tired old house of a woman with "one in her and one on her," because that's literally what I was. 

Back at the ranch, while Nicky drove Matchbox cars all over my belly and legs and asked me 30 or more times, "what you doin' mommy?," I reminded myself that I will no longer be 5 months pregnant when I have two kids (but I will have two kids!) and I will have more energy (even without sleep?) and my husband will be home (but don't forget his weekly business travel!). Okay, so maybe I'm freaking out a little bit.

But one thing's for sure, I know every tired, harried, crazy, fat moment of it will be totally, unbelievably worth it. I love my son. Did I mention that?

Transitions

Exactly one week ago my little monkey man turned two.

A week before that he stopped using a paci.

Yesterday it was 78 degrees at 2:45 p.m.

Last night I threw open the windows before climbing in bed.

My little Jack is growing and growing inside my burgeoning belly. This morning I pulled out some maternity shirts.

We are, in so many palpable ways, in transition. Even though the change from a Virginia summer to a Virginia fall moves at a snail's pace, I can tell it's started. While this summer, especially the last part, has been so much fun, I am really looking forward to the changes and excitement the final months of 2010 hold for our little family. And I'm looking forward to blogging about it, too. I've missed this!

Weekend Recap

July Weekend from Chris Robertson on Vimeo.

This says it better than I could. Happy week all! Stay cool!!

Rise and Shine

That's what we're trying to do this Monday to make up for last week, which was lackluster to say the least. Nicky is finally feeling better and more like himself, though we are all off of our schedules and, being the ridiculous creatures of habit that we are, bumbling around a bit. We're still a little tired and stressed, having some trouble ridding ourselves of the excess adrenaline that floods your system while you watch your little one suffer. It's the most frustrating and overwhelming feeling. A couple days of getting back in the swing of things should do the trick. And we finally got some rain! Oh, things have been so hot and dry here. The days have been pretty and sunny, but I love a green lawn and thriving flowers and my hose and I are just not an acceptable substitute for a nice, drenching storm. I couldn't have been more excited to wake up to gray skies and thunderclaps. Anyway, things are looking up.


Sleep Tight from Chris Robertson on Vimeo.

Last night my husband made a new video from older footage of Nicky. I was really touched because I don't remember or recognize any of the videos. I guess they're techically "outtakes" but I find them adorable. It strikes me how different, yet how much the same, Nicky looks then compared to now. I love his big smile so stinkin much. Anyway, this makes me look forward to those first quiet months with a newborn (which probably won't be so quiet this time around!).

Have a good week!

Must Read

Zeitoun by Dave Eggers. Scribble this down and boogie on over to your local bookstore or library. I really can't do this book justice with a long-winded, overly wrought review. Suffice it to say that I thought I knew what happened during Katrina. I thought I was angry and ashamed by the suffering and injustice. I knew nothing until I read this non-fiction account told through the eyes of Syrian-born Abdulrahman Zeitoun (Zay-toon) and his wife Kathy. It's an incredible story and incredibly written by Eggers, whose passion for both the Zeitoun family and the people of New Orleans is palpable throughout, and wonderfully present in the final chapter.

As an American, this book made me ashamed of this chapter in our nation's very recent history, but, oddly enough, reaffirmed my faith in the American spirit and what we are capable of when we are at our very best. I think it's a very, very important book.

Anyway, there's lots going on here, which explains my break from blogging. I'm nursing a sick little one back to health and handling a big project at work, not to mention growing quite a little baby bump! Hopefully more to come soon. I'm also reading The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers, which has been on my shelf for nearly 6 months. So far it's all it's said to be.

Happy week all. Enjoy your summer!

The Reluctant Blogger

I'm not really a reluctant blogger, maybe just a lazy one. It is full-on summer here and we are chasing one another all over the place. Hopping from farmers' markets to pools to outdoor parties. Hopping in and out of swim diapers. Covering sunburned shoulders after long days at the beach. Falling asleep with the rocking waves and waking up with the seagulls and the clink of the mast. We are feeling a bit tired and more than a bit lucky. We are staring at one another, rubbing noses, kissing, and probably not taking enough pictures. We are trying new words and singing new songs and loving each other in new ways. We are watching lilies bloom and popping blueberries and chomping on corn. We are reluctant to stop all this for anything that isn't mandatory.

In the midst of this I read The Reluctant Fundamentalist, which came highly recommended by one of my readers here (how cool is that?). It was really a pleasure. It's quiet and thoughtful and surprisingly romantic. I would say it's one of the more surprising novels I've read in a good while. Like one of my favorites, The Things They Carried, this book led me over and over again to the idea of narrative structure, to the craft of storytelling, to why we give certain characters voice over others, to the power of that convention.

I am now doing something I thought I never would: reading Steig Larsson. After years of passing his novels (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire) at bestseller stands in airports, I was finally confronted by one face-to-face, and a free copy at that. My father just started in on them and, while he didn't offer any glowing reviews, he suggested I give them a spin. He also suggested I skip Dragon Tattoo and start with The Girl Who Played With Fire. So that's where I am right now, when I'm not immersed in all the things mentioned in the first paragraph of this entry. All I can say so far is that it's decidedly not a pleasure, and it's not about the writing, and it may be kind of a poor translation, but it just also may be a damn good story. And I'm kinda hooked. More later.

Thanks for reading!

Cupcake

Because it is Mother's Day I had a cupcake at 3:45 p.m. today. A pink cupcake with jam filling leftover from our party last night. I napped when Nicky did, which is historic for me. We went to Busch Gardens with my mom and watched Nicky ride the rides and rode some ourselves. The lines were short. The weather was just warm and the breeze was just enough. It's 8:30 p.m. now and I'm about to take a bath and watch An Education. I know what I'm wearing to the office tomorrow.

The party last night went great. The house was clean and pretty, candle-lit, full of kids playing in some places and friends catching up in others. The weather was perfect. There was hardly any clean up.

Times like this, when everything's easy and fits so easily in place, I wonder what all the fuss (my fuss) was about.

And that's a great Mother's Day, when everything in your crazy, chaos-reigns life seems like a piece of cupcake.

Happy Mother's Day universe. G'night!

Moxie

As my little toddler would say (with two hands in the air), "Where it go?" My mojo, my moxie, my Meredithness. I'm not feeling like myself, which is fairly unusual. As a rule, I spring to action when the going gets tough, when the pressure is on. But right now, all I'm doing is very slowly sipping my sugar-free latte and contemplating my ridiculously over-the-limit inbox with something close to 120 unread messages, and not opening any of them. Instead I'm writing a blog post instead like a real overachiever.

My resume touts me as a brilliant multi-tasker, but current reality tells a different tale. I forgot to kick-off an office campaign for a charity I care very much about (not sure how to turn that one around, but it's probably going to involve another self-effacing mass e-mail), I was an especially lackluster facilitator at an important meeting yesterday, and thinking of the state of my current assignments reminds me of those war strategy computer games my husband sometimes plays (the ones with world map littered with small burning flames denoting military clashes). Not knowing where to start, I would prefer to stick my head between my knees and crawl under my desk, though probably in reverse order.

I'm behind on the laundry, I'm behind on the vaccumming, I'm behind on the dusting, and I'm embarrased to tell you the last time my family had a home-cooked meal (and that, I recall, was a rotisserie chicken and sides from Fresh Market).

Did I mention I'm hosting a big party on Saturday?

Oh, I know it will get better, and that it's not even near bad. It's just a tad overwhelming at times. By tomorrow I'll get my little ducks in a row. But for now I just felt like complaining to you, because I get the distinct feeling that my family (husband) is getting pretty sick of hearing it. So thanks for listening!

My Favorite Things

I know, it's been awhile. There are so many reasons I haven't posted in weeks--schedule, sadness for a friend's terrible loss, and a head brimming with so many thoughts it's hard to isolate one single post. Anyway, I figured it was time to get something up here before I lose forever my very small group of readers! I saw this post on my sister-in-law's blog and thought it would be a good way to jump back in. I give you My (Current) Favorite Things.

Cargo Better Than Waterproof Mascara -- If you are a mom, or if you are emotional and cry during commercials, or if you go to the beach a lot and still want to look good, basically, if you are a woman you should run out and buy this mascara. I consider myself somewhat of a mascara afficiando and this is hands-down the best. It will never come off. Ever. It would have lasted through labor I'm sure. And, yes, I'm the kind of person who cares about that kind of thing.  I get mines at Ulta. It's pricey, but so worth it.

Trader Joe's -- Oh, how we could not live without thee. They know us there. We love them for their awesome employees and balloons and daily tastings that keep Nicky from crossing the line to complete nightmare-in-a-grocery-cart. Most of all we love TJ's Apple Carrot Crushers and Freeze-dried Strawberries and Blueberries and Frozen French Toast and Omega 3 Carrot Juice. Parenting would be difficult for us without those items.

Hearts of Palm -- I like to say it and I like to eat it. Sometimes I forget, which makes the reunion that much sweeter. On a salad with baby greens and cherry tomatoes and tiny marinated mozzarella balls.

The Light Wedge -- This is the most incredible reading light ever made. I give it as a gift frequently. If you need to read with a baby sleeping beside you or travel on planes or in cars or just read a lot in bed, you have to get this. Everyone I've given it to has given it to someone else.

Michael Stars tees -- They're the best ever and that's why they cost so much. They last forever. Every season I tell myself I will buy three of these and nothing else. It never works out, but maybe one day.

Hannah Andersen PJs -- For the Nickster, not for the whole family. Above comment on the Michael Stars tees applies (the best so $) EXCEPT when you find them at Costco for $10!! Happy day. My son wears these for a year, and my son is one solidly growing boy! Even after all that wear they look plenty good to be worn by other Robertsons to come. We go through other brands in a matter of months.

My husband -- He's not for sale at any store. Gotta getchyour own. But mine's so great and I don't blog enough about him. This weekend he built a tree house for my son and outfitted it with a super cool captain's wheel and telescope, he helped and encouraged me through a ridiculous painting fiasco (pictures to come), he learned how to play Nicky's favorite Jack Johnson song (Upside Down) on the guitar, and he got hot dogs for my friends' kids and read them stories at a reception this weekend. He is a wonderful father and husband and tells me and my son that he loves us and that we're so beautiful so often that we almost take it for granted, but we don't.

My neighborhood -- There are homes available and we'd love to have you all as neighbors! Nearly every time I drive to and from home I think I am so lucky to live here. It's all trees and gentle hills and golden retrievers and thoughtful gardening and kids' toys in the yards. To me, it's what home should be and, thankfully, is.

My girlfriends -- I got mine in high school. These models are sold out, though I would expect a reissue due to popular demand. More on this in another post, but this weekend I spent some time with my very best friends and every time I see them I think how lucky I am to have friends like this in this world. If something good happens to me, they are the people who are without question happy for me and cheering me on; in the case of something bad they would be quietly and generously casting a net to catch me if I fell.

My son -- Also not for purchase, even when crabby and throwing Buzz Lightyear dolls at water glasses in Thai restaurants. Anyone who reads this blog knows about my love affair with my son. He is amazing and the light of my life and my wonderful little companion. His barnacle hugs and sweet little kisses mean more to me than anything I've ever known. He's a gift and I cherish him.

Welcome Spring!

It's spring in CW!

Have a great week everyone.

Farrideh

Farrideh is a neighbor. She lives in a green house two doors down with largest, most beautiful weeping cherry tree I've seen (you can glimpse it in this photo). She watches her two granddaughters everyday, they have pretty little Italian names because their mother is Italian. But Farrideh and her husband and her son are not, they're from somewhere else. Her accent sounds Greek, but it could just as easily be Turkish or Syrian or Armenian. She could be any number of nationalities really. I'm a bad judge. I thought for sure one of my good friends was Armenian when I met her, but it turns out she's half Mexican. I'm not sure why I always want people to be Armenian.  I'm also not sure why I'm always shy to ask people where they're from. 

Farrideh met and fell in love with my son on Halloween. She's older and kind of sticks to her own yard, so that was the first time they were introduced. She opened the door to her cozy home and the smell of some kind of wonderful meditteranean dish flooded out. Immediately she was down at Nicky's level, patting his head and cooing all over him. She let him dig through her candy dish for at least 5 minutes. We must have left with 20 treats.

Now when she sees him coming she says "There's the baby. I am in love with this baby!" They have a moment. Sometimes Nicky runs up and hugs her and says nonsensical things to her in a really loud voice. She loves this. She'll say, "Now this is just for you and me ... " and say something to him in her native language. Sometimes, like the other day, he'll see her and a big smile will spread across his face. Then he'll whip up his t-shirt, point at his bellybutton, yell "Bellybutton!", and run off in another direction for a ball or a truck. She'll laugh and watch him go. She's not the kind to chase him.

She doesn't expect much from me, doesn't need me to tell her about what he's eating or how he sleeps, whether he's said his first sentence or likes to play outside. She'll get all that from him soon enough. And when she beams and says "Such a happy, happy boy!" I know it's a compliment, even though she's not looking at me. This is their own, this little friendship.

These interactions with Farrideh always strike me. They make me think he's so lucky in life, this running into someone like this on the street, someone who loves him so much, someone who would pick him and kiss his boo-boo if he fell, give him water if he was thirsty. I see already that she will care about him as he grows, what he'll be for next Halloween, what he wants for Christmas, how he likes school.

It pulls at my heart strings, which are really getting worn out lately.

Mines

Look at what momma got for Easter! My very own touching video, complete with the song I adored from the link in my last post. Watching this I realized we have a lot more footage than I thought -- even some  baby feet!

How sweet is my husband?

Happy sunny holiday weekend!

All Week Long OR I Don't Film Enough OR The Price Is Right

All week long I've been wanting to post. I've been commuting to the office and thinking of posts as I drive, then not finding time to write them once I get home. This is a messy compliation of all those ideas.

I've been tired this week and going to bed early and getting up late. Never in my life did I think I would call getting up at 6:30 late, but now it is very, very late. If someone had told the pre-children me that once I had kids getting up at 5:45 would be the norm, I may have waited to have children. It would have been a ridiculous reason to wait to have children, but I can see how that knowledge could have resulted in that outcome. This makes me think I'm being far too transparent with my sister if I want her to have children in the near future.

I've been enjoying a bit of a lull in my workload, but I can feel it building as sure as I feel spring springing. Once I'm in the thick of it, I'll be fine, but right now I'm full of self pity for all the work I will have to do in the next few months. I was really moved by this post over at the Panic Room. This guy always seems to put it so well ... if I tried to write this post it would go on forever, but his quiet little paragraphs say it all. He's also a really talented photographer and the video (the video!) link on this post is so beautifully done. I got a little misty because it all comes together so well and also because I know we are definitely not taking enough video of Nicky. It's hard to fit it all in--the iPhone pictures, the good camera pictures, the seeing it with your own eyes and just enjoying the moment mental pictures. The video camera is often left out, but man I would love to have a video like this of Nicky to watch during a stressful moment at work. Just to have it. That would be great.

Writing this I remembered that I do, in fact, have something like this to watch on this site. My husband put it together for me so long ago. He came in while I was watching it and said he would work on another one today. Yay!

What else ... the other night the husband and I watched the Departed again. I believe I've seen it 20 times. I love that movie so much for so many reasons -- the actors and the pacing and the setting and the music and the subject. I love crime/mob/gang/street drama. I'm not sure why I find it all so intriguing, but I know I'm not alone. If you, too, see the appeal you should check out novels by Richard Price. He's a great writer and penned the scripts for more than a few episodes of The Wire. He also wrote Clockers, which later became a Spike Lee joint and is said to be the inspiration for The Wire. I would recommend the book Samaritan, written about a middle-aged divorcee who returns to the projects of New Jersey to teach a writing class at an inner-city highschool and ends up in the middle of a murder mystery. I know it sounds very Dangerous Minds, but trust me it's much, much better. I've had his first novel, The Wanderers, and a more recent one, Lush Life, on my to-do list for awhile now.

Anyway, that sums up most of what's been floating around up here. Have a great Easter everyone. We are looking forward to egg hunts and 80-degree weather and little boys in button-downs and khakis, and maybe a date night or two in the mix. Love ya!

Notes From the Looney Bin

Just a couple tidbits to start the day:

1. 
   
   Why do we look like this at the end of practically every meal? Is it the result of poor parenting? Is this healthy exploration? Must he know what oatmeal feels like in his nostrils before he can fully appreciate its taste? All I know is, one minute everything is fine and all of us are respectable, then I turn around and one of the three of us looks like this.
2. 
   
   Chris left for a business trip by train on Monday. Nicky and I saw him off and Nicky was so excited by the sight of his first real train that he was shaking a little while incessantly whispered "choo choo" under his breath. Now he keeps saying "Dada choo choo" over and over. I think this is pretty neat because perhaps he thinks his father is an engineer, which I'm sure is Nicky's ultimate dream job.
3. 
   
   Just like Michael Scott on The Office, I need to get back on top around here. With the onset of spring, Nicky and the dog have both officially stopped listening to me and all of either of them want to do is stand in the street and explore our neighbors' driveways. Most evenings at around 6:30 you can find me in the street, begging the two of them to please come in, wouldn't they like some cheese? I am fully aware that this is poor, bribing parenting.
4. 
   
   Nicky has a scraped knee. Well, actually he has two, but thank goodness he's only aware of the one. The drama! Whenever he notices it he launches into "Uh-oh! Boo-boo! Uh-oh! Momma! Uh-oh! Ouchy! Boo-boo." This continues for quite some time. This morning he was vehemently against wearing pants, I guess because of the boo-boo. I assume this because he was screaming "No! BOO-BOO!" as I tried to pull them up over his tush. Note to self: may need to rethink the cheese bribery sooner that anticipated.

Happy hump day!

On My Nightstand

Do you have a reading problem you're trying to overcome? Can you not stop reading? Do you buy too many books and stay up too late at night working your way through them? If so, I have your solution: start a blog dedicated to your narrative forays. I guarantee you'll cure yourself of the ailment in no time.

Just kidding for the most part. I'm still at it, I'm just kind of all over the place. Take a look at the stack I woke up to this morning: (from bottom to top) April 2010 issue of Vanity Fair, The Baby Book by Dr. William Sears, Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert, and old faithful Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris.

I've picked up where I left off in Then We Came to the End and, just like previously, I am really enjoying it. The problem here is length. It's so long, too long. The type is small. I've never opened up about this, but, as much as I love reading, I really appreciate a short novel. I like the quick gratification that comes from reading a 150- to 200-page book. This is also a key part of my attraction to volumes of poetry and short stories. They're short. I have this annoying, self-imposed rule about finishing everything I start. This means that if I start a long book, damnit, I will see it through to completion, even if it means laboring through it for months. I've always been a bit embarrassed by this fact. Aren't we always taught that if you really love reading, then you really want to read books that also double as doorstops or (in my case) bassinet props? Well, I am officially outing myself as a wussy lover of the small, digestible book.

Second from the top is Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert. What to say ... this book wasn't supposed to find its way to my nightstand, especially not in hardcover edition (I am very picky about making a hardcover investment). Then one day I found myself magnetically drawn to the perfectly clementine cover (really, it's exactly my favorite color) on the Costco book table and a couple weeks later, here I am in Elizabeth Gilbert hell. I think of Elizabeth Gilbert novels like Cinnabons. They sound so good, but half-way through you realize you were never really interested and now you have a stomach ache. It was just the idea that was so enticing. I think I would love to travel with Elizabeth Gilbert. I would love to be her friend. I bet she has great jewlery and cool clothes that I would compliment and maybe get to borrow if we became close enough. I would like to talk about her travels and her career over a long dinner and a couple glasses of wine, but then we could both part ways and go about other, more important things. I read Eat Pray Love and I enjoyed the first half or so, but the lengthy descriptions of her meditation trials at the ashram? I just lost interest. This second novel held my interest for only the first chapter or so before I found myself asking, "Why should I care?" As much as I like and admire you, Elizabeth Gilbert, I think this puppy is headed for the local Book Exchange.

Next, the Baby Book by Dr. William Sears. I used to pour over this when Nicky was an infant for great tips on entertaining and stimulating baby, mixed with some tough love on being a working mom and the risk of detachment (it's always been a bit of a love-hate relationship with this one). Anyway, now having given up mom guilt, I return to it when I need a reminder that tantrums will pass and that I am a lucky ducky because my high-need child is so in touch with his wants and needs. I've needed that reminder in the past 2 days.

And finally, good old Vanity Fair. Before I had Nicky I would read each issue from cover to cover. Now I buy one once every 4 months and I read a couple articles before recycling it. I'm sorry I had to pick this one, it's really lame (but still, thank you husband for picking it up for me!!).

What's on your nightstand??