Friday, December 15, 2006

While reassuring...

My mother is coming this weekend, but I'm not stressed. I convinced her to bring her boyfriend who has a very calming effect on her. He is very sweet, but I just received an email from him that is reassuring and alarming at the same time. He went to great lengths telling me not to worry about cleaning for them or tidying or straightening...that for family we should just be ourselves and let it all hang out. I'm looking at this thinking on the one hand that it is such a lovely sentiment. On the other hand, is my house that much of a shithole that he feels he needs to make me feel better about it??

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Officially dating

Work sucks, but it's easy to plug away when Christmas break is so close. Oh, and not caring a whole hell of a lot helps too.

On the home front, sleep is also sucking big time, and I think we're ready to end this wonderful co-sleeping experience. I believe in it and have loved having Clementine in our bed, but know what? I love sleep more. Way more. And none of us is sleeping well with things as they are now. I was feeling guilty about kicking her out of bed (because I'm apparently twisted beyond belief), but it is totally time. Now if only we weren't so broke from Christmas that buying a bed is near impossible. Oh, and if only we weren't getting ready for holiday travels that will see us sharing beds for convenience. It just seems like there's not time to really dedicate to making this a good transition for all of us, and yet if we don't do it soon I fear the result of all this lack of sleep for all of us. Nate and I really need to sit down and talk about all this, but it's hard to find the time when we're ready to collapse at 9 because we didn't get any sleep the night before.

Clementine's vocabulary continues to expand, and I've practically lost count of all her words. In addition to those we understand, there are several that are consistently associated with things like the Christmas tree and certain toys that sound nothing like what we are calling them. We haven't had any slip-ups with her repeating our transgressions, but it is interesting to watch her mimic our behavior. She has taken to disciplining the cat, for example, and that has gone from just saying "No" and "Down" in an angry voice while pointing (do I really look like that?) to hitting Floyd. As you can see, he's ready to fight back, which has me a little more than nervous:

discipline

She's into just about everything these days, and I love to watch her attention flit from thing to thing. We let her watch a few old Christmas cartoons, but she can't just sit still and enjoy--she must multi-task by talking on the phone AND playing on her rocking horse. After about five minutes, it's just too much and she needs to take a break to play. I think if I were home with her all day, I'd be exhausted all the time.

multi-tasking
sit and spin

I think it is safe to say that I officially have a new mom friend (we've had two "dates" now in rapid succession), and although I feel totally lame boasting about that, you can't imagine how nice it is to find someone who lives close to us, is easy to hang out with and who has a great kid. My friends without kids don't really understand how isolating motherhood can be, especially during week nights when I'm used to a little company, dinner out, some conversation with people to whom I am not related (not that Nate isn't the best conversationalist ever). Last night we arranged a last-minute get-together because Nate was cooking and I felt like that was something worth sharing. She and her daughter came over to play and eat and go home early for bed, and it was easy and fun. Sure, my expectations for social encounters are totally different than they were a year and a half ago, but what of it? More than artists and rockers, poets and thinkers, I need parent friends who get where I am in my life, who don't get offended if I cut their kids' meat for them or remind them to be gentle with the cat and who, in turn, will pick my kid up if she falls down or give her a great big hug for no reason. In this case, it's a little of both (good parent friend but also a cool woman who has a little of the rocker/thinker thing going on), and I'm going to stop mooning because this may sound like a creepy crush instead of just a thank-god-I'm-meeting-cool-moms-to-hang-with thing.

It's strange to be in my 30s and this obsessed with finding friends. I sound like a Middle Schooler, but I'm only a little embarrassed. There are all sorts of things they don't tell you about how your life is going to change when you have a kid, and connecting with parents is, for me, one of the harder omissions, especially since I work and don't have time during the day to cultivate that. And it's not like I'm desperate to escape the comfort of my cozy little three-person family--I love that Nate and I get tons of time with each other and our awesome little girl. I just want to make her world as big and wide as possible, and I want her to see her parents out there having a life instead of turning it all over to her. But enough justification. I also just want to be able to go to someone's house after our kids are in bed, crack open a beer and talk about all the weird shit kids do. I woke up with Clementine literally sitting on my head last night while cooing "Mama." If I don't find someone to laugh about that with I may just end up crying.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Superlatives

When we've had a fun weekend (and really what weekend isn't fun?), I sometimes have to restrain myself from giving into hyperbole and superlatives to declare it the best weekend ever. Maybe it's just Mondays and my ambivalence about my job, but when I sit back at my desk at work and remember all we were able to cram into 48 hours, I feel like we will never again experience so many highs, so many great things in a single weekend. But that's of course never the case, and when I manage to trudge through a work week I'm always rewarded with another best weekend ever. I can't decide if this is an optomistic thought or a pessimistic one (because maybe they all just feel so great because my weeks are so crappy...?), and before my head starts to hurt I'm just going to revel in the weekend past while working on my plans for the weekend future when my mother, who wrote me a very formal businessy letter announcing the plans for her visit, will be here.

On Friday we went down to the Detroit Institute of Art to see Mexican Elvis impersonator El Vez and his Merry Mex-Mas show. It was fabulous, most especially because Clementine was just tired enough to go totally crazy, dancing all over the place and running through the precious gems of the art museum like she was at a demolition derby and needed only focus on taking that guy waaay over there out. We were supposed to have pictures taken with El Vez, but instead we ended up in the basement portrait studio taking very fun pics of our blended bizarro family with the Lambertis. Clementine looked elfin, and she tried out to be the new got milk? spokeschild.


enjoying the show
open sesame

We've decided to become members of the DIA again since the winter is definitely here and our daily trips have been put on ice (excuse the pun). It's great for her to have a place to run free, though I swear we aren't those obnoxious parents who leave their children running through the galleries while they swill wine in the great hall. Clementine did get a little crazy and kept falling down to lick the shiny floor, so we bundled her up pretty quickly and headed home.

On Saturday we braved weekend holiday shopping traffic and all the mom jeans an madness that come with a kids concert to see Ralph's World in Ann Arbor. We've been pretty lucky with kids music so far (meaning Clementine is happy listening to lots of our tunes and doesn't require insipid baby music that gets stuck in my head until I'm in a work meeting humming "My mom has got a pig on her head, my mom has got a pig on her head..." for hours at a time), and Ralph's World is about as close to it as we get. He is a very cool rocker who still plays with the Bad Examples but is enjoying a lucrative career as a kids performer. I was worried about the show since he recently sold out to Disney, but it was very fun and friendly and not commercial like the terrible Radio Disney fiasco we stumbled into after Thanksgiving. Clementine had a blast, though she was a shell of the dancing queen she was the night before. She inched her way, song by song, closer to the kiddie mosh pit and just stood looking at other kids. There were lots of cute moments where the kids were a wriggling mass of dancing bodies and she a lone, still figure watching in amazement. Then, she discovered the stage and stood riveted in front of each band member in turn. I hope that doesn't mean she's thinking about her life as a future groupie. That's her in the middle:

too cool to move

Nate was a trooper at the show because I think kiddie rock offends his sensibilities even more than mine. He wore my favorite T-shirt ever, which took guts in the crown od mom jeans. I actually tried to photograph a pair of them that were especially bad, but the woman caught me doing it and I had to pretend I was trying to take a picture of a kid behind her. It was awkward to say the least. Luckily I didn't have to worry that Nate was going to make off with some other mama.

drumming (such joy!)everyone's a rock star

We made a dumbass novice mistake on the way home from Ann Arbor and let Clementine have a bite of the yummy chocolate we bought there. The girl screamed "More! More! More!" for 30 minutes straight until in desperation I pulled off the highway to find a place for dinner. As it turns out we ended up near Marvelous Marvin's Mechanical Museum, a very cool little arcade that hosts a huge collection of vintage video games and machines in addition to the cutting edge Japanese video games that make you feel like you're a rock star or on a roller coaster. How could we not further overstimulate our child by a quick run through there? Although she loved most of it, some of it was a bit too much:

I want off!

On Sunday we decorated the Christmas tree, which was as fun as I secretly always thought it would be when I was very busy being dark and too cynical to enjoy traditional holidays. Clementine was very eager to help, and she's so damn in love with the finished product that she stops whatever she's doing every once ina while and runs over to marvel at it and the Christmas stockings.



And as if that isn't enough, I went on a blind mom date with a woman who lives very close to us and has a very sweet and funny daughter who is a little older than Clementine (nevertheless, I think they hit it off...as much as you can say two small children can do so). Because I was involved and it was social, it was a little awkward and I was far to obsessed with not being cool enough, but below all of that was a real sense of relief at knowing it's not that hard to make friends when you meet the right kind of people.

I got to talk to some old friends this weekend as well, one of whom accused me of trying to get fired by blogging about my troubles at work, so I'm going to be a bit more circumspect this week as I just try to make it to the holidays and a much-needed break.

Phew!

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Donna Reed, week 4

A few weeks ago, Nate and I came up with a solution to equitably divide many of the chores around the house, most importantly the menu planning and cooking of each night's family dinner. We call it being Donna Reed, and the basic premise is that one person is Donna Reed for an entire work week, meaning he or she is responsible for the planning, shopping, cooking and cleaning up after four or five meals a week (weekends are a free-for-all). We figured it would be better to rotate by week as opposed to date so that each person can get into her groove, whether it is the groove of freedom (Alex) or servitude (Donna).

Had I written about our progress last week, I might have done a little bitching. We got off to a rough start on both sides: Nate was the first Donna, and on his very first Monday of being in charge he called me at work to ask me if I thought we had a particular ingredient on hand. One of my complaints about the division of labor before we introduced Donna into our lives was that even if Nate cooked the meal, I had talked to him and counseled him and answered his questions so many times before the food hit the table I might as well have cooked it myself. This wasn't an entirely fair analysis, but it was how I felt and when he called me to ask an innocent question I was a total bitch and refused to answer. Boo on me. But as we got into the swing of things, I was wowed by how well the system worked. Nate would be in the kitchen cooking up some wonderful, healthy dinner like whole wheat penne with kale and mushrooms (note: we can now say mushrooms are not on darling C's favorite food list), and I could calmly play with Clementine until we were called to the table. Heaven. When it was my turn to be Donna, I could cook in peace and quiet, knowing the people I love were safely enjoying each other's company and not under foot and knife while I was making them a nice meal. Cleaning up still sucked, but it's easy to power through it while imagining not doing a single dish the following week.

Our second Donna rotation was a little more difficult since Nate hasn't really gotten menu planning and shopping down. I frankly think the notion scheduling is overwhelming to his bohemian self, and he doesn't like to be fenced in by things like plans and menus. It's what I love about him--he's very laid back. He ended up having to grocery shop every time he cooked a meal, which was only twice as we had leftovers once and pizza once. I set out this week to moel what I think a good Donna week is--grocery shopping and some prep on Sunday and five fabulous, home-cooked meals the rest of the week. It seems pretty easy in concept, but I must admit I almost cried tears of joy when my lovely friend Laura called on Tuesday to say she had made a giant roast and would like us all to come over. That many home-cooked meals in a row is hard.

All in all, the Donna concept is working for us, but I'm starting to think even more radical...like living on a commune. OK, maybe not that extreme (although it does appeal to my socially retarded side because I wouldn't have to keep trying to akwardly make friends), but I do wish I had better neighbors. The drive home from Laura's is just long enough that Clementine can sneak in one of those awful I-closed-my-eyes-for-five-minutes-and-now-bed-time-is-fucked naps, and almost all my other friends with whom we could enjoy an easy, brief, midweek dinner live just as far if not farther. If only the white trash I live among could be the kind of people I want to call up on a Tuesday and say, "Hey, I made way too much lasagna. Come over and eat with us." Nah. If only Laura had a few extra bedrooms. I want to move in and let her be Donna.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Things we love: the winter coat edition



Any parent will tell you that no matter how cool the toys you buy your kid are, said child will prefer the remote control, a cell phone, a stinky old blanket or the silly plush toy someone you hardly know gave her, even if it isn't clever or unusual like the stuffed roast beef from Mr. Pickles. I've come to accept this truth and happily hand over my cooking utensils and car keys as toys when darling C. whines for them. Sure, I'm giving in, but it's so much easier than watching her have a fit on the floor, especially because she loses interest quickly if I readily hand them over; resist and she will cradle the treasure for hours after I finally give in and I never get it back.

All of this said, I don't understand the deep love Clementine has for the winter jacket my dad gave her. Sure, it's cool and all, reversible and with a zip-out liner/rain coat/3-in-one do-all thingy, but it's not so cool that I can't imagine a world without it. C feels otherwise and will bend over howling in frustration or shriek loudly while huge tears roll down her reddening cheeks if you try to make her experience a world like that. I'm not kidding: take this kid's coat off and she totally loses her shit. She can be somewhat ameliorated if you let her carry it around, but really she wants that thing on and will go to great lengths (read: scream on the floor for more than 10 minutes) to get it.

At first I saw this as not wanting to be indoors or fenced in, but it isn't that. Then I wondered if maybe she wasn't handling transitions well--that not taking the jacket off meant she wasn't ready to be at day care or home yet. Maybe she is trying to keep something safe and consistent with her. But it isn't that either. I've decided it's time to stop analyzing: Clementine just loves her coat. A lot. And I'm going to stop fighting it. If she wants to eat in it, fine. If she wants to wear it to bed (the other night I let her cuddle with it but removed it once she'd nodded off), fine. I might draw the line at bath time, but if she wants to wear it all day at day care, that's fine too. I wish I could find a coat I like this much.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Let it snow!

Although Clementine was with us and free of the womb this time last year, she was just a little precious lump of a baby, hardly a sentient being. She had her first Christmas and saw her first snowfall, but these firsts were not much different in terms of leaving an impression than hearing a bell ring or wiggling her fingers--everything was new, so there wasn't really any distinction. This year it has been a delight to see all the changes of the season through her eyes, watching as she discovers with wonder things like Christmas lights and cold wind. A few weeks ago the white trash decorating contest began in my neighborhood as a few of my neighbors dragged every light-up invention they owned out onto their lawns in the 60 degree weather and set up competing winter wonderlands. Clementine was very impressed.

On the last warm day of the fall we took her in her wagon around the block to look at the various light displays, and with each one she shouted "Yay!" and began to clap (this is the same reaction we get when we pull in the driveway at the end of the day, when we arrive at a store or when she sees her dad). When we got back to our house, she got out of the wagon and decided to go for a closer inspection of our neighbor's displays. This naturally lead to dancing with the inflated animals to the tune of their generaters humming in the night. She is especially fond of all the little penguins, although Santa in the Nascar (I kid you not--they just keep getting tackier and more cliche) is also very popular.

Her enthusiasm is infectious and exacerbating the surge I felt in Christmas spirit last year when I was shocked to discover how into the holiday I was for the first time since I still believed in Santa Claus and really wanted him to bring me a Miss Piggy tiara and a purple bicycle (I got the bike). After years of cynically eschewing Christmas trees, holiday music and decorations, I found myself excited to start our own family traditions, especially since I could add to them a twist or two that would make the holiday more our own. We put up a red tinsel tree with black trim and loaded it with ornaments (none of the proliferation of cheesy “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments we received), went out for Chinese food on Christmas Eve, danced in our jammies to bad ass Christmas tunes instead of the churchy ones and hung out just the three of us. This year I've been eyeing an even bigger tree (last year's is falling apart) and can't wait to hang the stockings I've made. We put up our own lights outside (alas, nothing inflatable but I think C will live) and even put some decorations on our mantle.

But before the holiday comes the snow, and while the rest of the midwest was getting buried early in the weekend, I was bummed we saw hardly a flake. Early Sunday morning on our way home from our weekly breakfast at Club Bart's, however, there were great big flakes falling from the sky, and Clementine let out her heartiest "Yay," clapping in such total delight it seemed her face might beam right off her head. She had to bend over a little from such excitement, and it was truly amazing to watch her literally discover and understand what the snow is, where it comes from, what it feels like and how quickly it melts. We sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes watching her try to catch the flakes as she repeated to herself snow, snow, snow (it sounded a little like "no" but sweeter), and it was one of the most sublime and happy moments I've had as a mother. I can't quite put it into words.

The whole weekend was full of stuff like that--she is growing by leaps and bounds by the minute it seems, moving in such unexpected and interesting directions that she sometimes catches us completely off guard. Like at dinner last night when she held her sippy cup out to me again and again saying something that sounded like shoes or even juice. Where did she learn that? we wondered. We don't give her juice. But C shook her head at us and became even more emphatic until she reached over and hit her cup against mine and said it again. Cheers? I asked. Yup, cheers. What can you say in the face of that?

Friday, December 01, 2006

I'm crafty (or I used to be) and just your type

A long, long time ago in a land far, far away (OK, just a year ago and no real physical distance), I was quite the crafty gal and loved to make all sorts of things. Part of it was a release for all the creative energy I previously spent on writing (I've been on a little hiatus from my poetry career and am now aching to get back to it), and part of it was just the challenge, but I was really into it for a while. I sewed all manner of cool stuff for my house and person, made art for our walls, learned to make tiles at Pewabic Pottery, developed photos, rehabbed vintage jewelry, made silver charms, silkscreened, made lamps, painted and sketched poorly and even made some crafty baby clothes and goods. Eventually, Clementine arrived and I lost a lot of my steam. I kept going for a while, but who has time to craft when she can't even shave her legs, balance her checkbook or keep up on laundry until the third consecutive day of inside-out underwear? Not only did parenting get in the way, but my writerly self started to reawaken of late, and I can't see finding time to nurture that and still string together beads.

At my craftiest I was lucky enough to participate in a cool show at my friend Laura's house. It's a wacky mix of art and jewelry, gifts and kids stuff (cool kids stuff like "George Bush Hates You onesies and a line of capes, tuts and dress-up duds you'd die for), and you never know what you are going to find there. Overall it's not as bizarre as the Bizarre Bazaar, as hip as the Renegade Craft Fair or as traditional as that crap they host at the local high schools every weekend, but it's a mix of all of those and you can find something for just about anyone. Despite my lack of craftiness of late, I even have a few things for sale (including my silver "punk" necklaces). As if that's not enough of a draw, there are snacks and wine at the sale tonight and a whole Christmas festival (complete with sales, sleigh rides, a parade and Santa) just blocks away tomorrow. If you live in the Metro Detroit area, pop up to Berkley and check it out if you can. My little fam will be there along side Laura and her crew (her 13-year old makes these very cool and crazy stuffed animals, her husband amazing paintings and tiles), and we'd love to see you. It's a family affair! Here's the invite (click to make it larger and to print):