Once again, something that I am quite sure is not uncommon with a two year old… I have seriously come to dread the words, “my do it” coming out of Leif’s mouth. I am stuck sitting there waiting for “his do it” for who knows how long. Oh my goodness this could make me insane. Or it could make me the most patient person in the entire world.
Saturday (since we are starting potty training), Leif is trying to take off his diaper as he stands on the stool in front of the toilet. I decided to help it along a little bit by undoing one tab. Harmless right? Ha ha. Oh goodness gracious did that thwart the whole project. There was much screaming and yelling, my name was mud and there was to be no potty sitting. Recovery was (finally after 30 minutes) helped along by a few monsters names Sully and Mike.
And what is the fascination with buckles and clips? Leif hasn’t used the belts on his booster seat in months. He used to scream if we did them. Now? He screams if he can’t “my do it” and buckle them up. His food will go cold as he sits there meticulously working on, not one, but two buckles. I guess the good side to this is that if AB and I eat quick, we all finish about the same time. And waa-laa, dinnertime together!
The buckles on his carseat. Yeah. You know what comes next… I try to sneak a finger in there occasionally, yet inconspicuously, just to nudge the buckle up on the strap so it isn’t 4” lower than the other and thereby completely impossible to connect. Just so maybe there might be a chance for success in the next 3 hours. I usually blame any busted nudges on a need to tickle his cuteness. He buys it.
He is a persistent little bugger. To avoid a complete meltdown I must stand aside while he works on whatever it is. Upon success, he beams, “I did it!” And we have a little party right there and then with many kisses. (In my own mind it is a ‘yay we can get moving now!’ party, but he doesn’t need to do that. It can be all about him.) If we finally reach his exhaustion point (there is one!) he will frustratingly tell me, “My help you”. Kind of backwards, but that’s ok. Yes, I will help you!
Monday, September 11, 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
TGIF!
AB had a job interview this morning. It sounded like the job interview went very well and that he will be called back for a chat with the owner since he was apparently out. It sounds like the job would be a good fit for him, if it weren’t for that nearly completed Masters degree in engineering and his desire to make a career change. This job is not engineering. It is with the company that is a direct competitor with the company he was layed off from. He is viewed as a strategic hire because of what he potentially brings to this company: contacts and knowledge. He was told that they see the position he would be in as a “leadership position” within the company. I guess they told him all the things he needed to hear, a little appeal to the ego, a path upwards and a seemingly friendly environment. I have no doubt he will get an offer after meeting the company owner. The real question is what will the offer be? Will they pay him commensurate with what the position and AB’s experience should garner? And the real question, how desperate is AB for a job right now. Does he want to take the gamble in pushing the career change now? Now is a good time for that. Go with the risk or the stability and current know how? I know AB well enough to know how tired he is of not working, how much he worries about money and how he looks towards the future and at us adding to our family early next year. I know what his answer will be.
This week has really flown by given the Labor Day holiday on Monday. It seems as though our weekend schedule is jam packed (literally). Tomorrow we are getting together with a number of friends to make wine grape jelly. It isn’t made from wine, nope, we have a fair number of wine grapes to make jelly out of. We have a small selection of cabernet sauvignon grapes to contribute to the mix of merlot, sangiovese and syrah. This should provide for a Saturday full of fun in testing out some different blends.
It is also the start of our local Parade of Homes. AB and I really enjoyed this last year and are looking forward to stopping by a few of the homes this year too. We don’t do the “must see every home on the list” thing where you are rewarded with an entry into a contest. Leif just wouldn’t stand for that. We are mostly interested in new homes in particular regions of our town and by builders with a certain style. So our list won’t be overly long.
Also on the list of must do’s is cleaning the house. My MIL arrives on Tuesday and will spend about a week visiting. The house is a disaster. Sorry AB, but his cleaning just doesn’t compare with our former cleaning lady. We will be busy scrambling to pick up the house. I know my MIL means no ill will, but the little things she says and has said in the past really stress me out about my house not being clean enough… nevermind the fact that I am nearly 13 weeks pregnant, with horrible morning sickness (yes, still), working 40 hours a week and mothering a very active 2 year old. I can’t say I am thrilled about the prospect of cleaning the house nearly every free second (because that is what it will take), but hopefully it will mean my tongue will not be severed by my own teeth.
I am anxiously awaiting some cooler weather here. It is September after all. I remember occasional snow in September when I was a kid in Wyoming. But alas, it has been hovering in the upper 90’s this week. The forecast keeps showing days of upper 70’s and low 80’s in the near future. However, these days seem unreachable. Students who failed out of “Gaming Management” in Nevada colleges (yes, a real major) must be just directly siphoned into Meteorology. Then they send the ones who barely passed here. And to think we don’t even have mountains to contend with. Flat land. And they still can’t figure it out!
Let’s see, in other news on the Leif side, daycare has asked us to start officially potty training Leif. I am skeered. His teacher told AB tonight when he picked him up that she needed more diapers and ended with the comment, “well of course if you just potty train him then you don’t need to bring anymore in”. AB stopped her and asked if we should be doing more other than just letting him use it when he wanted. She told him that Leif is not only showing all the signs of being ready (tells her when he is poopy, pulls his own pants down, takes off his own diaper), but is actually pottying on the potty at daycare somewhat regularly, then going and retrieving (or not) the clean diaper and attempting (or not) to put it on. Ugh. I worry this is too young. I know, they have far more experience with this then I do, but isn’t 25 months a little young for this, especially with a boy? She gave AB an outline of what we need to be doing to follow their philosophy on potty training. So I guess we will steam forward. I keep reminding myself how nice it would be to not have two in diapers come this spring.
Everyone have a super weekend!
This week has really flown by given the Labor Day holiday on Monday. It seems as though our weekend schedule is jam packed (literally). Tomorrow we are getting together with a number of friends to make wine grape jelly. It isn’t made from wine, nope, we have a fair number of wine grapes to make jelly out of. We have a small selection of cabernet sauvignon grapes to contribute to the mix of merlot, sangiovese and syrah. This should provide for a Saturday full of fun in testing out some different blends.
It is also the start of our local Parade of Homes. AB and I really enjoyed this last year and are looking forward to stopping by a few of the homes this year too. We don’t do the “must see every home on the list” thing where you are rewarded with an entry into a contest. Leif just wouldn’t stand for that. We are mostly interested in new homes in particular regions of our town and by builders with a certain style. So our list won’t be overly long.
Also on the list of must do’s is cleaning the house. My MIL arrives on Tuesday and will spend about a week visiting. The house is a disaster. Sorry AB, but his cleaning just doesn’t compare with our former cleaning lady. We will be busy scrambling to pick up the house. I know my MIL means no ill will, but the little things she says and has said in the past really stress me out about my house not being clean enough… nevermind the fact that I am nearly 13 weeks pregnant, with horrible morning sickness (yes, still), working 40 hours a week and mothering a very active 2 year old. I can’t say I am thrilled about the prospect of cleaning the house nearly every free second (because that is what it will take), but hopefully it will mean my tongue will not be severed by my own teeth.
I am anxiously awaiting some cooler weather here. It is September after all. I remember occasional snow in September when I was a kid in Wyoming. But alas, it has been hovering in the upper 90’s this week. The forecast keeps showing days of upper 70’s and low 80’s in the near future. However, these days seem unreachable. Students who failed out of “Gaming Management” in Nevada colleges (yes, a real major) must be just directly siphoned into Meteorology. Then they send the ones who barely passed here. And to think we don’t even have mountains to contend with. Flat land. And they still can’t figure it out!
Let’s see, in other news on the Leif side, daycare has asked us to start officially potty training Leif. I am skeered. His teacher told AB tonight when he picked him up that she needed more diapers and ended with the comment, “well of course if you just potty train him then you don’t need to bring anymore in”. AB stopped her and asked if we should be doing more other than just letting him use it when he wanted. She told him that Leif is not only showing all the signs of being ready (tells her when he is poopy, pulls his own pants down, takes off his own diaper), but is actually pottying on the potty at daycare somewhat regularly, then going and retrieving (or not) the clean diaper and attempting (or not) to put it on. Ugh. I worry this is too young. I know, they have far more experience with this then I do, but isn’t 25 months a little young for this, especially with a boy? She gave AB an outline of what we need to be doing to follow their philosophy on potty training. So I guess we will steam forward. I keep reminding myself how nice it would be to not have two in diapers come this spring.
Everyone have a super weekend!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Assortment packs, just why?
Toddlers have their favorites. I am sure this is not unique to just my toddler. But I would seriously pay more to have a box of band-aids that are ALL Bruce the shark than the Nemo assortment pack we have. Who really wants a band aid with Peach the starfish on it?
No really, I would rather pay twice the price for a Bruce the shark collection so that the other 80% of the band-aids are used without a complete meltdown.
No really, I would rather pay twice the price for a Bruce the shark collection so that the other 80% of the band-aids are used without a complete meltdown.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
So I am really only 24?
AB and I went to lunch today. He came into town to run some errands and so we met at the local Mongolian Grill. It’s a good sign that I was craving this as vegetables have been off the list for some time now. We were checking out and I got a good laugh at the sign behind the counter:
“If you don’t know who shot JR, prepare to be carded.”
Both AB and I chuckled, got a kick out of it and chatted with the owner about the sign. She said we would be surprised how many people just don’t get it, many even ask who junior is.
I got into my car and headed back out to work, flipped the radio station a few times until I found an acceptable song, The BeeGees “Night Fever”. I rocked the rest of the way back to work. I took disco lessons at the YMCA when I was little and remember dancing to this song and dreaming of dancing with John Travolta in his sexy white leisure suit. What a strut. I dreamed of going to a roller disco when I was older and showing off my moves. (And I had good moves!)
Recently a friend of mine online talked about being 35 when her baby will be born and how this concerned her with her age. Plenty of us were there to enlighten her that 35 is in no way old!
Then did I mention the white hair I found on my head the other day. Like polar bear white. White as snow white. I hoped as a kid that when my hair changed colors that it would be white white and not grey. I expected this would be the case since my great grandmother had the same color hair as me and her hair was snow white by the time I came along. Of course I also didn’t expect to start seeing this at such a young age! (It’s Leif’s fault.) AB thought I was overreacting just a tad and reminded me that he has patches of white in his beard. I was more surprised to know that he had noticed them in his beard.
If the 40’s are the new 30’s, that means that the 30’s are the new 20’s… right? Which would make me 24!
“If you don’t know who shot JR, prepare to be carded.”
Both AB and I chuckled, got a kick out of it and chatted with the owner about the sign. She said we would be surprised how many people just don’t get it, many even ask who junior is.
I got into my car and headed back out to work, flipped the radio station a few times until I found an acceptable song, The BeeGees “Night Fever”. I rocked the rest of the way back to work. I took disco lessons at the YMCA when I was little and remember dancing to this song and dreaming of dancing with John Travolta in his sexy white leisure suit. What a strut. I dreamed of going to a roller disco when I was older and showing off my moves. (And I had good moves!)
Recently a friend of mine online talked about being 35 when her baby will be born and how this concerned her with her age. Plenty of us were there to enlighten her that 35 is in no way old!
Then did I mention the white hair I found on my head the other day. Like polar bear white. White as snow white. I hoped as a kid that when my hair changed colors that it would be white white and not grey. I expected this would be the case since my great grandmother had the same color hair as me and her hair was snow white by the time I came along. Of course I also didn’t expect to start seeing this at such a young age! (It’s Leif’s fault.) AB thought I was overreacting just a tad and reminded me that he has patches of white in his beard. I was more surprised to know that he had noticed them in his beard.
If the 40’s are the new 30’s, that means that the 30’s are the new 20’s… right? Which would make me 24!
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Nothing says satisfaction like...
Sitting in the grass at a potluck thrown by members of your former group and overhearing your former group manager say, "Wow, this is really good pie", to his wife, your division director and his wife. Then the three of them getting up and getting a piece of pie and agreeing on what a spectacular peach pie it is. (It was nectarine, oh well, I 'll take it anyway.)
Devoured, decimated, not a scrap left. I was proud to walk up and retrieve the plate making sure they all saw it was ME that baked it from scratch. (Because good pie can only be made from scratch.)
Devoured, decimated, not a scrap left. I was proud to walk up and retrieve the plate making sure they all saw it was ME that baked it from scratch. (Because good pie can only be made from scratch.)
Friday, September 01, 2006
Happy Birthday Dad!
(Sorry about the lack of paragraph breaks. For some reason I cannot get them to stay in. I will attempt another edit later, but for now I just have to accept this is a Blogger glitch.)
Yesterday my dad turned 53. I didn’t get a chance to post then because I was on the webcam with him. It was an hour or so well spent.
My dad was born in Red Lodge,
While I was out at lunch today the song Workingman’s Blues by Bob Dylan came on and the words reminded me of my dad. He started out working as a teenager on oil rigs in
It is amazing the things that impact us as children. I remember when I was a little girl going to a car dealership in
Life was good growing up in our household. Things didn’t always come easy. My dad worked shift work, which was hard on him and hard on our family. But from this experience there was always a huge sense of devotion and satisfaction from a good week’s worth of work that we felt from him. My dad was proud to support our family and despite the fact that he worked long hours he was always at school plays, softball games and track and field day. We went on summer vacations in the car around our region;
My dad is a very traditional sort. He takes pride in being the man of the house and the sole provider. Unfortunately he also tended to marry women who while they liked that idea to start, it was never quite enough. That’s not to say that he ever didn’t allow either my former stepmom or my mom to work, but for my dad I truly believe it was a source of his own pride to be able to take care of his family.
When I think of my dad I also think of his lofty ambitions. I get this from him. My dad has always had big dreams, to own a cabin in the mountains, to have a boat… Sound familiar? I hope that someday in his life, he is able to have these things he has longed for since I was a child.
As I grew older my parents divorced. We spent every other weekend and the summers with my dad. We gained a stepmom and two stepbrothers. Some of my fondest memories come from spending the summers at my dad’s house. We would ride dirt bikes, go swimming, go to the State Fair, canoe the
My dad was always the favored neighborhood parent. All the neighborhood kids hung out at our house. My dad has a great personality that all the kids loved. There were many times I felt like I just wanted them all to leave so I could have my dad to myself. But I was quiet like that. I liked one on one interactions, while my dad was the life of the party. (Which is frighteningly like my son…)
I remember one time openly defying my dad. My dad was always opposed to piercings and according to my mom he was none too happy when I was five and she brought me home with my newly pierced ears. When I was about 13 or 14 I stuck a cube of ice on my ear, pushed a needle through creating hole number 3 or 4 and stuck an earring in while my stepbrothers sat and watched me in the bathroom. That night at dinner it was quiet and Brett, my youngest stepbrother, asked what happened if you pierced your own ear. My dad replied that it would get infected and cause nerve damage to your face and the side of your face would slough off. Or something to that effect. I remember Brett sitting across the table from me with tears in his eyes and his lip quivering. I glared and glared at him, begging him with my eyes, to keep his mouth shut. My dad saw through this, not surprisingly, and asked who pierced their ear. Brett immediately blurted out that I did. I am quite sure my dad didn’t speak to me for a week.
As I entered high school and we moved to
I had a special kinship with my dad growing up as well as today. I always felt like he “got” me. He could read my mind. He understood the ambition I had in life. I was always at home with his rationality. I have never known my dad to be particularly driven by emotions until these recent years. Which is both good and bad, and I am happy to see some of his emotions popping through. I can rely on my dad to offer sound, rational advice that isn’t driven by selfishness. In offering advice he told me the truth and not necessarily just what I wanted to hear. My dad is expert at playing the devil’s advocate, which is probably why I am so tolerant of this with AB.
I love you dad!
Happy Birthday Dad!
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Boys scare me
One of the admins I used to work with was recently telling me about one (of her three) sons. He is four and recently confessed to her that he has “bad thoughts”. Brandy asked him what his “bad thoughts” were. He told her that he has bad thoughts about breaking things, like that sometimes he just wants to pick up a lamp and smash it.
Brandy was, with reason, surprised by this admission and furthermore, quite concerned. She promptly went to the book store and bought a book called “Raising Boys”. She was appalled! I agree with her, as a little girl I was never inclined to just break things for the sheer pleasure of demolition.
One summer (1997 – I remember because it was a great California vintage year) we went to the Napa Valley with a number of friends who were living in San Francisco. One friend was working for an architect who had bought a house in Napa, with the intention of demolishing it and building a new house there. We had permission to stay in it and if the desire struck, tear it to pieces. Never have I seen 6 or 7 grown men (well they were 24-26 I guess, so grown is debatable), take so much enthusiasm in tearing apart the inside of a house. It was like a dream come true to them. Well to the ones who didn’t do the grappa droppa.
Leif has just started frightening me with a show of this “boyish” behavior. The other day we were sitting with a toy and Leif had it in his hands. A glimmer in his eye showed up and he says to me, “I break it”.
Umm no, I tell him, we don’t break our toys.
This time he has the glimmer and that willful charmer smile, as he looks at me and repeats, “I break it”, just like he is trying to charm me like a snake into admitting that OK, yes, you can break it.
But mommy is immune to snake charming. Much to his surprise I didn’t even succumb when he said, “pees I break it”. THAT only resulted in the toy being removed from his hands and put away.
Probably a bad move… now he won’t tell me out of fear of my taking the toy (or other) he desires to break. He will just do it.
Boys scare me.
Brandy was, with reason, surprised by this admission and furthermore, quite concerned. She promptly went to the book store and bought a book called “Raising Boys”. She was appalled! I agree with her, as a little girl I was never inclined to just break things for the sheer pleasure of demolition.
One summer (1997 – I remember because it was a great California vintage year) we went to the Napa Valley with a number of friends who were living in San Francisco. One friend was working for an architect who had bought a house in Napa, with the intention of demolishing it and building a new house there. We had permission to stay in it and if the desire struck, tear it to pieces. Never have I seen 6 or 7 grown men (well they were 24-26 I guess, so grown is debatable), take so much enthusiasm in tearing apart the inside of a house. It was like a dream come true to them. Well to the ones who didn’t do the grappa droppa.
Leif has just started frightening me with a show of this “boyish” behavior. The other day we were sitting with a toy and Leif had it in his hands. A glimmer in his eye showed up and he says to me, “I break it”.
Umm no, I tell him, we don’t break our toys.
This time he has the glimmer and that willful charmer smile, as he looks at me and repeats, “I break it”, just like he is trying to charm me like a snake into admitting that OK, yes, you can break it.
But mommy is immune to snake charming. Much to his surprise I didn’t even succumb when he said, “pees I break it”. THAT only resulted in the toy being removed from his hands and put away.
Probably a bad move… now he won’t tell me out of fear of my taking the toy (or other) he desires to break. He will just do it.
Boys scare me.
I am not your freaking admin
My office is the only actual office on the first floor of my building. Couple this with my being female and there is an immediate assumption that I am here to serve. If someone stops in with a quick question, I try to do my best to provide a qualified answer, something like “well I think, but I am not sure, that person’s office is inside the vault, if it isn’t, you might check with one of the admins upstairs in room X, they will know”. In my own mind that is akin to saying “I am going to be helpful to you, but this isn’t my job”. In a polite manner, of course.
Today I am sitting at my desk, kind of. I have my laptop on my lap, working away. My desktop is busy running simulations, so everything is essentially locked up.
A small, thin, older woman who I didn’t know comes into my office, barks at me, “I am late would you call Jane Doe (who I had no idea who this person was) and have her meet me outside”. She starts to turn around.
I don’t often get just really rude interactions like this. Most people are at least pleasant and say please. Please would have garnered at least a little less rudeness in my voice.
“Actually, I have a phone here, you can feel free to borrow my phone to call this person, but I am busy,” I tell her.
“Well I am running behind,” she whines to me. When she sees me look at her blankly knowing that I don’t give a rats ass, she succumbs. “Well can you at least look her phone number up for me on PopFon?”
“Actually no, I can’t,” I tell her honestly. “My computer is running simulations and is locked.”
She huffs at me and puts her hands on her hips. This I love, “you are incredibly unhelpful”.
“My projects don’t pay me to be helpful to random people walking by my office, they pay me to do science,” I tell her.
“Well I thought you were an admin,” she says while walking off.
Can I just note that at no point was there ever a please, a thank you, a sorry to bother you, nothing. This just leads me to believe that admins have to be the most abused people around. I am always conscious of my pleases and thank you’s when working with my admins (or someone else’s), apparently not everyone is. Hug your admin today. Or wait, don’t do that, you could get in trouble for sexual harassment. Just say “thanks”.
Today I am sitting at my desk, kind of. I have my laptop on my lap, working away. My desktop is busy running simulations, so everything is essentially locked up.
A small, thin, older woman who I didn’t know comes into my office, barks at me, “I am late would you call Jane Doe (who I had no idea who this person was) and have her meet me outside”. She starts to turn around.
I don’t often get just really rude interactions like this. Most people are at least pleasant and say please. Please would have garnered at least a little less rudeness in my voice.
“Actually, I have a phone here, you can feel free to borrow my phone to call this person, but I am busy,” I tell her.
“Well I am running behind,” she whines to me. When she sees me look at her blankly knowing that I don’t give a rats ass, she succumbs. “Well can you at least look her phone number up for me on PopFon?”
“Actually no, I can’t,” I tell her honestly. “My computer is running simulations and is locked.”
She huffs at me and puts her hands on her hips. This I love, “you are incredibly unhelpful”.
“My projects don’t pay me to be helpful to random people walking by my office, they pay me to do science,” I tell her.
“Well I thought you were an admin,” she says while walking off.
Can I just note that at no point was there ever a please, a thank you, a sorry to bother you, nothing. This just leads me to believe that admins have to be the most abused people around. I am always conscious of my pleases and thank you’s when working with my admins (or someone else’s), apparently not everyone is. Hug your admin today. Or wait, don’t do that, you could get in trouble for sexual harassment. Just say “thanks”.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Random weekend
Don’t you love it when you skim a previous post and ask yourself if you were even speaking English? The one about the fair struck me that way. And I can’t even blame alcohol. Onwards, I guess.
Our weekend was pretty uneventful. We have been having a horrible time getting Leif to sleep. Any ideas on convincing a 2 year old that sleep is a good thing? We are pretty die-hard Sleep Lady fanatics to this point. However, I have found that she just glosses over this age group and recommends the Sleep Lady shuffle. Which yes, worked wonders when he was 18 months old. But now Leif has willpower, he has desires to stay awake, he has words to tell us exactly what he thinks and wants (and that isn’t sleep) and the Sleep Lady is just old hat for him.
I guess the one good thing that has come out of his staying up until nearly 9pm is that he is sleeping in until after 7am. Of course then this becomes crunch time for AB to get him ready by 8am when I need to be scootching out the door. And believe it or not, I miss my morning time with him. So I don’t need the nearly 2 hours afforded to me from a 5am wake up, but I would take a half hour of snuggles that comes with getting up around 6:15am. Sunday he slept until 8am. (Of course the trade off for this was that AB was up with him off and on from 4-6am.)
I guess my biggest problem is that I am having a horrible time accepting, no believing, that my son doesn’t need to go to bed before 9pm as he lies in his crib yawning at 8:15am.
The whole molars thing could be adding to this nighttime fiasco. He has two that are wrecking havoc in his mouth now. Which made for a very *pleasant* Sunday. Couple the lack of sleep with the fact that it was not “swimming day” and it made for one very unhappy little boy. He went and put his red swim trunks on over his green dinosaur pajamas in a great show of protest towards the municipal pools closing for the summer. (Fashion sense comes courtesy of dad.)
The return to work this morning was nice and easy. I worked up the guts to e-mail off my preproposal and copy it to a whole litany of interested people here at the lab. Weeks of prepping three little pages to leave the confines of the internal labspace have finally come to fruition. It is out of my hands. I was surprised to get a quick note back from the point of contact for this section already confirming receipt of the proposal and a promise to look over it as soon as possible.
I got another e-mail from the product manager for my big project indicating that our annual review would be held in late October in Berkeley. I am envisioning an extra day to take the BART into San Francisco to go Christmas shopping, calling on friends for a dinner out. Of course the realistic side of my brain laughs and reminds my frivolous side that I will get to attend this review IF the project manager my project was tasked under can’t attend (quite likely), but then if his “right hand man” (aka my co-PI) can’t attend (very unlikely). Then I get to go. Yeah right. Better not even get my hopes up.
On a better note, I finished My Antonia, which was good and have moved onto reading my September book club selection, Illusions, The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. I started it yesterday after lunch and am already nearly halfway through. I love books like that. Easy, fast read. But it is incredibly thought provoking and will make for good discussion. Of course, then it dawned on me that AB has class on book club night again this semester and how the hell are we going to work that. Leif is such a growly little bear lately that I won’t even think about leaving him with a babysitter or dropping him with friends unless his mood changes, drastically. So I guess I am reading the book club book now for my own personal fulfillment. Ok, so that IS the idea behind book club, read and discuss books that you maybe wouldn’t otherwise – and there is no way I would have picked up this book otherwise.
Today is obviously a boring blog day. Inspiration anyone?
Our weekend was pretty uneventful. We have been having a horrible time getting Leif to sleep. Any ideas on convincing a 2 year old that sleep is a good thing? We are pretty die-hard Sleep Lady fanatics to this point. However, I have found that she just glosses over this age group and recommends the Sleep Lady shuffle. Which yes, worked wonders when he was 18 months old. But now Leif has willpower, he has desires to stay awake, he has words to tell us exactly what he thinks and wants (and that isn’t sleep) and the Sleep Lady is just old hat for him.
I guess the one good thing that has come out of his staying up until nearly 9pm is that he is sleeping in until after 7am. Of course then this becomes crunch time for AB to get him ready by 8am when I need to be scootching out the door. And believe it or not, I miss my morning time with him. So I don’t need the nearly 2 hours afforded to me from a 5am wake up, but I would take a half hour of snuggles that comes with getting up around 6:15am. Sunday he slept until 8am. (Of course the trade off for this was that AB was up with him off and on from 4-6am.)
I guess my biggest problem is that I am having a horrible time accepting, no believing, that my son doesn’t need to go to bed before 9pm as he lies in his crib yawning at 8:15am.
The whole molars thing could be adding to this nighttime fiasco. He has two that are wrecking havoc in his mouth now. Which made for a very *pleasant* Sunday. Couple the lack of sleep with the fact that it was not “swimming day” and it made for one very unhappy little boy. He went and put his red swim trunks on over his green dinosaur pajamas in a great show of protest towards the municipal pools closing for the summer. (Fashion sense comes courtesy of dad.)
The return to work this morning was nice and easy. I worked up the guts to e-mail off my preproposal and copy it to a whole litany of interested people here at the lab. Weeks of prepping three little pages to leave the confines of the internal labspace have finally come to fruition. It is out of my hands. I was surprised to get a quick note back from the point of contact for this section already confirming receipt of the proposal and a promise to look over it as soon as possible.
I got another e-mail from the product manager for my big project indicating that our annual review would be held in late October in Berkeley. I am envisioning an extra day to take the BART into San Francisco to go Christmas shopping, calling on friends for a dinner out. Of course the realistic side of my brain laughs and reminds my frivolous side that I will get to attend this review IF the project manager my project was tasked under can’t attend (quite likely), but then if his “right hand man” (aka my co-PI) can’t attend (very unlikely). Then I get to go. Yeah right. Better not even get my hopes up.
On a better note, I finished My Antonia, which was good and have moved onto reading my September book club selection, Illusions, The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. I started it yesterday after lunch and am already nearly halfway through. I love books like that. Easy, fast read. But it is incredibly thought provoking and will make for good discussion. Of course, then it dawned on me that AB has class on book club night again this semester and how the hell are we going to work that. Leif is such a growly little bear lately that I won’t even think about leaving him with a babysitter or dropping him with friends unless his mood changes, drastically. So I guess I am reading the book club book now for my own personal fulfillment. Ok, so that IS the idea behind book club, read and discuss books that you maybe wouldn’t otherwise – and there is no way I would have picked up this book otherwise.
Today is obviously a boring blog day. Inspiration anyone?
Saturday, August 26, 2006
The weekend
The other day Leif and I were on our way into daycare when he saw a woman standing in the hall holding a baby. He announced to me a few times “baby, baby, baby!” We kept walking after saying hi to the baby. We were nearly 10 feet away when Leif stops, thinks for a second and breaks into a full sprint back screaming at the top of his lungs, “PISS BABY, PISS BABY!”
It only took a little explaining that my son has just recently acquired the inability to say “kiss” and opts for “piss” instead now. Lovely. He really did used to say “kiss”! A cow is also called a “pow”. But a cat is a cat, a kitty is a kitty, and a car is a car. V offered up a good explanation yesterday as to why this might be, other kids? There must be another kid in the class who calls a kiss, a piss. Makes sense. Leif is quite the loyal subject when it comes to what the other kids in the class are doing (or eating).
This week really did fly by for me. AB started back to class this week and so it has been a huge schedule change for the whole family. At any other university this would be planned and expected. However, you see at our local university (or maybe it is just AB’s department), they are very fly by the seat of their pants. AB went to class the first night, not really knowing which class he was taking, when it would be offered or if they would be offered. This pretty much suits AB’s demeanor (can I rule him out as being analytical?). It would drive me insane to be in that type of program. AB knows though that he can push for classes to be moved to different dates or times and it will happen. So consequently this week has been very up in the air. I am hoping next week that the class schedule will be nailed down a little more.
AB is in one class that he is really excited about, which thrills me. I love seeing him come home from class with a smile on his face and anxious about the material. The other class he is debating taking, which he isn’t required to take to fulfill his credits to graduate in March is a modeling class that his advisor is really pushing. He is sitting in for the first few weeks “just to see”. If I had a spare $100 I would be willing to place a wager that he will end up taking the class for credit. He keeps mentioning things like “well IF I were to go into a Ph.D. program, it would be good to have”. He is hooked. Hook, line and sinker.
Good news too, I think, on the job front for him. He made a contact this week with his former company’s competitor. Something he has been debating on doing since being laid off in May. But at that point, he wasn’t desperate yet and still clinging to the idea of finding a job as an engineering intern or student and not returning to analytical chemistry or lab management. I guess enough time has gone by without getting a bite on the engineering bit, summer is nearing an end, there is an end to the unemployment paychecks in the distant future, he is damn tired of cleaning the house, and probably MOST of all, the contact was enthusiastically returned with a big round of ego boosting. AB thinks it is a possibility that since he knows nearly 50% of the employees in the company he could have an offer this week even without an interview. I am a little more skeptical… at least they will bring him out and talk to him in person first, won’t they? AB doesn’t think so… he had interviewed the potential manager for a position at his old company awhile back. And supposedly they are hard up for employees.
Believe it or not, this position isn’t exactly a slam dunk for AB though. It isn’t what he really wants to do. He is tired of being a lab chemist, tired of managing chemistry projects and teaching high school kids how to run equipment we learned inside and out in college. He wants a new challenge in life. He wants a career, not just a job. But maybe most of all right now, he wants somewhere to get up and go to everyday. And there, is the kicker.
I took off early yesterday and picked Leif up after nap. We are ran home, grabbing AB and trekked off to the local county fair. When I was a kid, the local fair and rodeo week was a huge deal. It started with a parade through downtown Casper, WY. We used to go sit at my grandfather’s barber shop to watch the parade. I remember scrambling for candy on the streets thrown out by the parade participants. Tootsie rolls were the best. I remember the Shriners riding their little mopeds and cars around in formations, the high school bands marching, the dance and gymnastics teams and the classic cars that carried the fair and rodeo royalty. Later on I participated in the parade, one year riding on a float built by my parents and their close friends for the YMCA (where my mom worked). It was a great float that won first prize that year and then went on to compete at Frontier Days in Cheyenne.
The fair was something we went to nearly daily when I was a kid. We would wander by the booths in the Industrial building, go and pet the animals, look at the 4-H crafts, eat fair food and the highlight was riding the carnival rides. I remember my sister crying when any number of people dressed in animal costumes or clowns would come up to us. I would get my picture taken with them, all the time being brave, so I could show my sister to be brave. We have more pictures of me standing next to some mouse, bear, or other barely identifiable creature, with my sister next to me sobbing.
We had a demolition derby which I enjoyed attending and would place bets with my dad on which car would survive. And then there was the rodeo. I had a serious aversion to “cowboys”, wanted nothing to do with them. So going to the rodeo each night was not my highlight aside from getting to stay up past my bedtime. I looked forward to getting my big glass of freshly made lemonade and that was about it. When the calf roping started my mom would take my sister and I out to wander the fair. We would return about the time it was over with fresh goodies. And then closing out the rodeo was usually some little known country singer. Fair and rodeo week was a huge deal living in Casper, WY.
I don’t remember that there were local or regional fairs when we moved to Colorado. Maybe we just weren’t into it, or maybe I was just 13 and too cool for the fair and rodeo.
I think I looked forward to attending the fair here this afternoon more than AB and Leif. I had a great time, Leif enjoyed the animals a lot – the pows, rabbits and sheep. He rode a pony and some carnival rides. The pigs really frightened him though. Pictures in the next post!
Everyone have a great weekend!
It only took a little explaining that my son has just recently acquired the inability to say “kiss” and opts for “piss” instead now. Lovely. He really did used to say “kiss”! A cow is also called a “pow”. But a cat is a cat, a kitty is a kitty, and a car is a car. V offered up a good explanation yesterday as to why this might be, other kids? There must be another kid in the class who calls a kiss, a piss. Makes sense. Leif is quite the loyal subject when it comes to what the other kids in the class are doing (or eating).
This week really did fly by for me. AB started back to class this week and so it has been a huge schedule change for the whole family. At any other university this would be planned and expected. However, you see at our local university (or maybe it is just AB’s department), they are very fly by the seat of their pants. AB went to class the first night, not really knowing which class he was taking, when it would be offered or if they would be offered. This pretty much suits AB’s demeanor (can I rule him out as being analytical?). It would drive me insane to be in that type of program. AB knows though that he can push for classes to be moved to different dates or times and it will happen. So consequently this week has been very up in the air. I am hoping next week that the class schedule will be nailed down a little more.
AB is in one class that he is really excited about, which thrills me. I love seeing him come home from class with a smile on his face and anxious about the material. The other class he is debating taking, which he isn’t required to take to fulfill his credits to graduate in March is a modeling class that his advisor is really pushing. He is sitting in for the first few weeks “just to see”. If I had a spare $100 I would be willing to place a wager that he will end up taking the class for credit. He keeps mentioning things like “well IF I were to go into a Ph.D. program, it would be good to have”. He is hooked. Hook, line and sinker.
Good news too, I think, on the job front for him. He made a contact this week with his former company’s competitor. Something he has been debating on doing since being laid off in May. But at that point, he wasn’t desperate yet and still clinging to the idea of finding a job as an engineering intern or student and not returning to analytical chemistry or lab management. I guess enough time has gone by without getting a bite on the engineering bit, summer is nearing an end, there is an end to the unemployment paychecks in the distant future, he is damn tired of cleaning the house, and probably MOST of all, the contact was enthusiastically returned with a big round of ego boosting. AB thinks it is a possibility that since he knows nearly 50% of the employees in the company he could have an offer this week even without an interview. I am a little more skeptical… at least they will bring him out and talk to him in person first, won’t they? AB doesn’t think so… he had interviewed the potential manager for a position at his old company awhile back. And supposedly they are hard up for employees.
Believe it or not, this position isn’t exactly a slam dunk for AB though. It isn’t what he really wants to do. He is tired of being a lab chemist, tired of managing chemistry projects and teaching high school kids how to run equipment we learned inside and out in college. He wants a new challenge in life. He wants a career, not just a job. But maybe most of all right now, he wants somewhere to get up and go to everyday. And there, is the kicker.
I took off early yesterday and picked Leif up after nap. We are ran home, grabbing AB and trekked off to the local county fair. When I was a kid, the local fair and rodeo week was a huge deal. It started with a parade through downtown Casper, WY. We used to go sit at my grandfather’s barber shop to watch the parade. I remember scrambling for candy on the streets thrown out by the parade participants. Tootsie rolls were the best. I remember the Shriners riding their little mopeds and cars around in formations, the high school bands marching, the dance and gymnastics teams and the classic cars that carried the fair and rodeo royalty. Later on I participated in the parade, one year riding on a float built by my parents and their close friends for the YMCA (where my mom worked). It was a great float that won first prize that year and then went on to compete at Frontier Days in Cheyenne.
The fair was something we went to nearly daily when I was a kid. We would wander by the booths in the Industrial building, go and pet the animals, look at the 4-H crafts, eat fair food and the highlight was riding the carnival rides. I remember my sister crying when any number of people dressed in animal costumes or clowns would come up to us. I would get my picture taken with them, all the time being brave, so I could show my sister to be brave. We have more pictures of me standing next to some mouse, bear, or other barely identifiable creature, with my sister next to me sobbing.
We had a demolition derby which I enjoyed attending and would place bets with my dad on which car would survive. And then there was the rodeo. I had a serious aversion to “cowboys”, wanted nothing to do with them. So going to the rodeo each night was not my highlight aside from getting to stay up past my bedtime. I looked forward to getting my big glass of freshly made lemonade and that was about it. When the calf roping started my mom would take my sister and I out to wander the fair. We would return about the time it was over with fresh goodies. And then closing out the rodeo was usually some little known country singer. Fair and rodeo week was a huge deal living in Casper, WY.
I don’t remember that there were local or regional fairs when we moved to Colorado. Maybe we just weren’t into it, or maybe I was just 13 and too cool for the fair and rodeo.
I think I looked forward to attending the fair here this afternoon more than AB and Leif. I had a great time, Leif enjoyed the animals a lot – the pows, rabbits and sheep. He rode a pony and some carnival rides. The pigs really frightened him though. Pictures in the next post!
Everyone have a great weekend!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
2 years and 25 days
That is how long it took Leif to finish one standard sized bottle of Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo.
An unconventional life
Have you ever dreamed of living unconventionally? For me, since I was a kid I dreamed of living off in the mountains somewhere in a log cabin. I would plant a big garden, my husband would hunt game for meat, we would fish. I would wear my hair long and live in flannel shirts, jeans and hiking boots (or Birkenstocks). We would live somewhere where it doesn’t get hot, where the snow piled us in and forced us to light our big river rock fireplace each morning and drink hot tea or cocoa all day. I would do pottery, or draw. I see this place in my mind. Sometimes we run a bed and breakfast with a six little cabins we rent out. Sometimes it is just us.
An unconventional life is about as far from what we live right now as you can get. We live in a neighborhood where the houses are six feet from each other, our neighbor’s house looks an amazing amount like our own, even though we see the subtle differences (they have four bedrooms and we have three). A kid (second on its way) and a dog, two cars (one an SUV), a mortgage, and more home improvement projects on the “to do” list than we know what to do with. We live a very good, happy life with goals, to own a vacation piece of property (hopefully a cabin in the mountains), to buy a boat, to buy or build our dream house in a few years. Some pipe dreams, some may come to pass.
But where does this place I see in my mind fit in?
This morning I was flipping through my Sunset magazine (my favorite magazine) and came across an article about a young couple who bought a dilapidated cabin in Juneau and renovated it. They boat in to their house. Their young daughter rides her tricycle on the large patio they built. I read this article with a twinge of jealousy.
My uncle has just recently retired and he and my aunt moved to Sitka in June. They bought a house on the edge of town where my aunt dreams of planting roses and my uncle fishes all day. My other uncle bought a cabin in the mountains when he was in his 30’s to be away from civilization… and well, he should be. We all prefer he stay up there for our sanity and his safety and others safety as well. I have a cousin who just located us last year (strange, long story… my maternal grandfather’s granddaughter from his first marriage – for family, Jack’s daughter) who is doing the backwoods life with three trips into civilization a year. This is the extreme… I don’t think I want to live that way. But I see this trend in my family and wonder if it is genetic. A longing for the wild, for wilderness and a sense of solitude. What is it that makes us desire the remoteness, the need to commune with nature?
My husband has it too. AB maybe even more than I sometimes. We look for houses and he talks about buying 1-2 acres just so our neighbors aren’t breathing down our necks, while I cringe at the thought of maintaining 1-2 acres in this region where tumbleweeds rule.
How do we get to the point in our lives that we can live out this dream, before we are too old to enjoy it?
What is your dream life like?
An unconventional life is about as far from what we live right now as you can get. We live in a neighborhood where the houses are six feet from each other, our neighbor’s house looks an amazing amount like our own, even though we see the subtle differences (they have four bedrooms and we have three). A kid (second on its way) and a dog, two cars (one an SUV), a mortgage, and more home improvement projects on the “to do” list than we know what to do with. We live a very good, happy life with goals, to own a vacation piece of property (hopefully a cabin in the mountains), to buy a boat, to buy or build our dream house in a few years. Some pipe dreams, some may come to pass.
But where does this place I see in my mind fit in?
This morning I was flipping through my Sunset magazine (my favorite magazine) and came across an article about a young couple who bought a dilapidated cabin in Juneau and renovated it. They boat in to their house. Their young daughter rides her tricycle on the large patio they built. I read this article with a twinge of jealousy.
My uncle has just recently retired and he and my aunt moved to Sitka in June. They bought a house on the edge of town where my aunt dreams of planting roses and my uncle fishes all day. My other uncle bought a cabin in the mountains when he was in his 30’s to be away from civilization… and well, he should be. We all prefer he stay up there for our sanity and his safety and others safety as well. I have a cousin who just located us last year (strange, long story… my maternal grandfather’s granddaughter from his first marriage – for family, Jack’s daughter) who is doing the backwoods life with three trips into civilization a year. This is the extreme… I don’t think I want to live that way. But I see this trend in my family and wonder if it is genetic. A longing for the wild, for wilderness and a sense of solitude. What is it that makes us desire the remoteness, the need to commune with nature?
My husband has it too. AB maybe even more than I sometimes. We look for houses and he talks about buying 1-2 acres just so our neighbors aren’t breathing down our necks, while I cringe at the thought of maintaining 1-2 acres in this region where tumbleweeds rule.
How do we get to the point in our lives that we can live out this dream, before we are too old to enjoy it?
What is your dream life like?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
My two year old is more mature
I work on a project that I love. I really like all the people I work with. I like the science and I really like our client. All in all, it is a great project. Too bad my task has completed and I am hanging on for consulting on a somewhat regular basis per my project manager’s request.
Lately another task has moved to the spotlight. This one is run by my coworker who bears an uncanny resemblance to Sean Connery, seriously. However, unlike the sophisticated, refined Connery, my coworker acts like a whiny two year old. He is a few years from retiring and while I really do like him, is probably the most grumpy, stuck in his ways scientist I have ever met.
As the spotlight has shifted from my task, which was transitioned to one of the clients plants and is now undergoing negotiations for licensing, it has moved to Sean Connery’s task. The biggest problem is that Sean Connery does not, under any circumstance, feel that he owes any explanation to anyone, that he is the scientist who knows all, and suggestions from the client on how to pursue the problems are viewed as a personal affront to his credibility. For the last 3-4 months, we all have heard him say “I quit” nearly every week at teleconference.
My project manager (an amiable amiable – imagine my polar opposite on the people scale) is in his back up mode daily when he walks into each internal meeting lately with his hackles bristled up. This morning he and I were waiting for others to arrive and he tells me that he raised his sons (currently in their early teens) to not quit. If they start something, they finish it. I was raised the same way. I remember quitting a Wil E. Coyote latch hook rug and my mom being disappointed in me for quitting, and so consequently I was disappointed in myself. Whenever I think of quitting, I remember that stupid latch hook rug.
He goes on to tell me how it just grates on him when Sean Connery says flippantly, “I quit”. It’s obvious it grates on him, his face turns red, his neck throbs and he raises his voice. Internal meetings and our teleconferences have become an exhibition sport for me and two other team members as we observe the volley of words and the seething glares, all the while trying to muffle our giggles at the ridiculous spectacle they are making acting like two year olds. My project manager stoops to Sean Connery’s level, when we all just really want him to say “You quit? Fine then, leave.”
Today Sean Connery announced that he will work on his task up until September 17th. At which point he will be taking a little vacation and returning to work on a different project. He can no longer take the client and our project manager “cutting down his credibility as a scientist”. This is obviously not true. But fine. Frankly, as much as I like Sean Connery, I am glad to see his era on this project coming to an end. I adore the guy really and I respect him as a scientist. And there is only a little selfishness in my anticipation of his departure… having to do with my likely return to this project to fill some awfully big shoes. I realized today, the real reason the past few months that my project manager has requested that I stay as involved as possible in this project and particularly Sean Connery’s task. I get to be the next 007.
Lately another task has moved to the spotlight. This one is run by my coworker who bears an uncanny resemblance to Sean Connery, seriously. However, unlike the sophisticated, refined Connery, my coworker acts like a whiny two year old. He is a few years from retiring and while I really do like him, is probably the most grumpy, stuck in his ways scientist I have ever met.
As the spotlight has shifted from my task, which was transitioned to one of the clients plants and is now undergoing negotiations for licensing, it has moved to Sean Connery’s task. The biggest problem is that Sean Connery does not, under any circumstance, feel that he owes any explanation to anyone, that he is the scientist who knows all, and suggestions from the client on how to pursue the problems are viewed as a personal affront to his credibility. For the last 3-4 months, we all have heard him say “I quit” nearly every week at teleconference.
My project manager (an amiable amiable – imagine my polar opposite on the people scale) is in his back up mode daily when he walks into each internal meeting lately with his hackles bristled up. This morning he and I were waiting for others to arrive and he tells me that he raised his sons (currently in their early teens) to not quit. If they start something, they finish it. I was raised the same way. I remember quitting a Wil E. Coyote latch hook rug and my mom being disappointed in me for quitting, and so consequently I was disappointed in myself. Whenever I think of quitting, I remember that stupid latch hook rug.
He goes on to tell me how it just grates on him when Sean Connery says flippantly, “I quit”. It’s obvious it grates on him, his face turns red, his neck throbs and he raises his voice. Internal meetings and our teleconferences have become an exhibition sport for me and two other team members as we observe the volley of words and the seething glares, all the while trying to muffle our giggles at the ridiculous spectacle they are making acting like two year olds. My project manager stoops to Sean Connery’s level, when we all just really want him to say “You quit? Fine then, leave.”
Today Sean Connery announced that he will work on his task up until September 17th. At which point he will be taking a little vacation and returning to work on a different project. He can no longer take the client and our project manager “cutting down his credibility as a scientist”. This is obviously not true. But fine. Frankly, as much as I like Sean Connery, I am glad to see his era on this project coming to an end. I adore the guy really and I respect him as a scientist. And there is only a little selfishness in my anticipation of his departure… having to do with my likely return to this project to fill some awfully big shoes. I realized today, the real reason the past few months that my project manager has requested that I stay as involved as possible in this project and particularly Sean Connery’s task. I get to be the next 007.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Dandies and Chicken Drumsticks
Leif has an obsession. Band-Aids. Or what he calls, Dandies. He needs to have a Dandy on everyday, somewhere on his body, irregardless of the presence of an “owie”. If he bumps his head, he runs to our bathroom yelling “dandy!” And no matter what he insists, I will not stick a band-aid in his hair.
All last week Leif wore a Nemo band-aid on his shin. A place that band-aids NEVER fall off. Note to self, the knee is the best place to place a non-injury band-aid. That Nemo band-aid had seen better days after nearly a week, despite its apparent inability to remove itself.
This morning Leif happened to note an “owie” on AB’s foot. He told us about it a few times, each time suggesting that daddy needed a dandy. These requests went unacknowledged. Finally, Leif took matters into his own hands. He sat down on the floor and set to peeling off his beloved Nemo dandy from his shin. He finally got it off (those things stick!), then walked it over to AB’s foot and stuck it on. “Here daddy,” he said.
It sounds silly, but in my emotional state, I nearly cried. How generous! He took something that he loves, that sets him to a screaming and crying tantrum lest we suggest removing it from him, and offered it up to Daddy’s owie.
My little boy is thoughtful! *Sigh*
Leif isn’t a big fan of meat. Chicken, pork, beef and fish, he could really care less about. Now at daycare on the other hand, life is different and he will eat whatever is placed in front of him. At home we get a very polite (said tongue in cheek) “NO WAY!”
Yesterday AB stuck a chicken on his BBQ rotisserie. I make an effort to always offer Leif what we are having for dinner first before resorting to macaroni and cheese or other. In this case, chicken, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy. We had no actual hopes of him eating this except maybe the corn. But I figured I would cross that bridge when we got to it.
I stuck a chicken drumstick in front of him, his first ever, and he stared at it some. Then I showed him how to hold it by the “handle”, pick it up and bite it. It took some practice, but he got the hang of it. When nearly 1/3 of the drumstick was done, we marveled. AB asked me if I had been eating some of it. Umm no. At 2/3 gone, our jaws were dropping.
When we looked over and he was sucking the end of a bare bone we were mystified! New dinner item on the list… chicken drumsticks!
We had a busy weekend especially given we didn’t have anything planned really. Saturday we went to the park and played. AB enjoyed his iced cinnamon Americano, I shared an orange juice and pumpkin loaf with Leif. I only really intended on sharing the juice, but who could resist his open baby bird mouth. After nap we went to open swim at the municipal pool where we had a fantastic time. After an hour we needed to go and Leif cried and cried that we had to leave. He loved it and would have stayed until we were booted.
After swimming I was craving beef and we had pretty much none in our house, and especially none that was thawed. So we changed clothes really quick and decided to venture a try at Outback. I called ahead for seating (was told there was no wait, but opted to put our name down anyway, thankfully). We arrived there to a full waiting area. Leif being the entertainer decided to entertain the waiting area. I was somewhat pleased to see that the people who were most receptive to his entertainment tactics was none other than my lab director. I said hi to him and he seemed like he just might recognize me. Or he just figures that anyone who calls him by Dr. “last name” probably works somewhere under him.
Aside from dinner taking a year and a half to arrive after ordering, the meal was good. Leif was reasonably well behaved. (Thankfully we were sat across the restaurant from my lab director so when Leif started acting up, my horrified face wasn’t seared in his memory…)
Leif calmed down when the table next to us was brought a dessert with a candle. He then became obsessed with telling everyone “Happy Birthday!” The neighboring table had long since left when we were finishing up, our waitress came by to see if we needed anything else and Leif, much to my horror, announces to her “Happy Birthday!”
You see one thing I inherited from my mom is the loathing of having anyone acknowledge my birthday at a restaurant. The last thing I want is a bunch of strangers singing some stupid mixed up corporate version of Happy Birthday to me. And thank you I can pay for my own dessert in exchange. Thankfully AB agrees with me on this. No, it wasn’t my birthday, nor Leif’s, nor AB’s. But our waitress assumed that it MUST be someone’s birthday at the table and brought us an ice cream sundae. Ok, so it wasn’t that mortifying. There was no singing and there was a free dessert, even though I swore up and down there were no birthdays at our table. We stayed long enough to eat the dessert and watch Leif dance to Funky Town in the middle of the aisle, entertaining even more patrons. If you are a parent, it will come as no surprise to you that upon arriving home 15 minutes after bedtime routine starts, missing bath and having such an exciting evening at Outback Steakhouse, made for a misery of a bedtime. But bonus? He slept in until 7:15am. Bliss.
Sunday was swimming lessons. As Leif put it, “Swimming day AGAIN!” It was a nice last swimming class. Sitting in the cool water was a welcome relief to the 100F weather. This week is the county fair and we are anxious to take Leif to see the animals. He will be over the moon. It is also AB’s first week of back to classes, his last semester and he will have his Masters in Engineering. Many hopes that this might just yield him a job he is happy with and doesn’t set us on a hunt to find two new jobs in a new place to live.
All last week Leif wore a Nemo band-aid on his shin. A place that band-aids NEVER fall off. Note to self, the knee is the best place to place a non-injury band-aid. That Nemo band-aid had seen better days after nearly a week, despite its apparent inability to remove itself.
This morning Leif happened to note an “owie” on AB’s foot. He told us about it a few times, each time suggesting that daddy needed a dandy. These requests went unacknowledged. Finally, Leif took matters into his own hands. He sat down on the floor and set to peeling off his beloved Nemo dandy from his shin. He finally got it off (those things stick!), then walked it over to AB’s foot and stuck it on. “Here daddy,” he said.
It sounds silly, but in my emotional state, I nearly cried. How generous! He took something that he loves, that sets him to a screaming and crying tantrum lest we suggest removing it from him, and offered it up to Daddy’s owie.
My little boy is thoughtful! *Sigh*
Leif isn’t a big fan of meat. Chicken, pork, beef and fish, he could really care less about. Now at daycare on the other hand, life is different and he will eat whatever is placed in front of him. At home we get a very polite (said tongue in cheek) “NO WAY!”
Yesterday AB stuck a chicken on his BBQ rotisserie. I make an effort to always offer Leif what we are having for dinner first before resorting to macaroni and cheese or other. In this case, chicken, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy. We had no actual hopes of him eating this except maybe the corn. But I figured I would cross that bridge when we got to it.
I stuck a chicken drumstick in front of him, his first ever, and he stared at it some. Then I showed him how to hold it by the “handle”, pick it up and bite it. It took some practice, but he got the hang of it. When nearly 1/3 of the drumstick was done, we marveled. AB asked me if I had been eating some of it. Umm no. At 2/3 gone, our jaws were dropping.
When we looked over and he was sucking the end of a bare bone we were mystified! New dinner item on the list… chicken drumsticks!
We had a busy weekend especially given we didn’t have anything planned really. Saturday we went to the park and played. AB enjoyed his iced cinnamon Americano, I shared an orange juice and pumpkin loaf with Leif. I only really intended on sharing the juice, but who could resist his open baby bird mouth. After nap we went to open swim at the municipal pool where we had a fantastic time. After an hour we needed to go and Leif cried and cried that we had to leave. He loved it and would have stayed until we were booted.
After swimming I was craving beef and we had pretty much none in our house, and especially none that was thawed. So we changed clothes really quick and decided to venture a try at Outback. I called ahead for seating (was told there was no wait, but opted to put our name down anyway, thankfully). We arrived there to a full waiting area. Leif being the entertainer decided to entertain the waiting area. I was somewhat pleased to see that the people who were most receptive to his entertainment tactics was none other than my lab director. I said hi to him and he seemed like he just might recognize me. Or he just figures that anyone who calls him by Dr. “last name” probably works somewhere under him.
Aside from dinner taking a year and a half to arrive after ordering, the meal was good. Leif was reasonably well behaved. (Thankfully we were sat across the restaurant from my lab director so when Leif started acting up, my horrified face wasn’t seared in his memory…)
Leif calmed down when the table next to us was brought a dessert with a candle. He then became obsessed with telling everyone “Happy Birthday!” The neighboring table had long since left when we were finishing up, our waitress came by to see if we needed anything else and Leif, much to my horror, announces to her “Happy Birthday!”
You see one thing I inherited from my mom is the loathing of having anyone acknowledge my birthday at a restaurant. The last thing I want is a bunch of strangers singing some stupid mixed up corporate version of Happy Birthday to me. And thank you I can pay for my own dessert in exchange. Thankfully AB agrees with me on this. No, it wasn’t my birthday, nor Leif’s, nor AB’s. But our waitress assumed that it MUST be someone’s birthday at the table and brought us an ice cream sundae. Ok, so it wasn’t that mortifying. There was no singing and there was a free dessert, even though I swore up and down there were no birthdays at our table. We stayed long enough to eat the dessert and watch Leif dance to Funky Town in the middle of the aisle, entertaining even more patrons. If you are a parent, it will come as no surprise to you that upon arriving home 15 minutes after bedtime routine starts, missing bath and having such an exciting evening at Outback Steakhouse, made for a misery of a bedtime. But bonus? He slept in until 7:15am. Bliss.
Sunday was swimming lessons. As Leif put it, “Swimming day AGAIN!” It was a nice last swimming class. Sitting in the cool water was a welcome relief to the 100F weather. This week is the county fair and we are anxious to take Leif to see the animals. He will be over the moon. It is also AB’s first week of back to classes, his last semester and he will have his Masters in Engineering. Many hopes that this might just yield him a job he is happy with and doesn’t set us on a hunt to find two new jobs in a new place to live.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Stone Soup
I am sure it seems a strange topic for a warm summer day. With this pregnancy, soup is one of the few things that actually sounds good to me. It started with a Campbell’s chunky soup that AB picked up that was a tomato base with pepperoni, pasta and mushrooms. Then I moved onto the Italian Wedding Soup a few times, which I have always really liked. Today I headed off to a local specialty soup café for lunch.
Many people I work with rave and rave about this place. I realized its popularity when I arrived at 11:30am and within 10 minutes, the line was out the door. I do have to say though, that while it is good. It fell short of what I was expecting. Part of this is my typical foodie nature, I love good food and I seek out really good food. The other part of this I fear, was my reading the menu.
I envisioned a wide selection of soups and breads, where I would struggle to decide which to have and would probably end up having to try more than one. In fact, the menu was comprised mostly of sandwiches with two options for soup, the weekly soup (a corn chowder) and the daily soup (chicken and rice). I knew in an instant that with my sensitive stomach that the corn chowder would be a no go, but the chicken and rice sounded like the just the thing. Where my skewed view of the café probably came in was seeing the Friday soup of the day: “Ivar’s Clam Chowder”.
I immediately started wondering if the soup that I ordered was homemade or out of a can. It was good soup. It was very plain. Exactly what my stomach needed. I gobbled up every drip of the bowl I ordered and felt amazing afterwards. But let’s go back to the Ivar’s thing… and I love Ivar’s clam chowder… from Ivar’s. If you are familiar with Washington State you probably know that Ivar’s is a pretty famous and tasty chain that specializes in fish and chips, other fried seafood delicacies and clam and salmon chowder. It really is quite good. But I just have a mental block when it comes to a specialty soup joint serving someone elses soup! (Or chowder as the case may be.) Especially when you can get said chowder at the mall, the grocery store and Costco.
I grew up with homemade soups. My grandfather’s ham hocks and beans was the first soup I can remember gobbling up. Simple soup, soak your Great Northern beans overnight and pick them over. The next day sear your ham hocks in a large stew pot. Pull them out and add a diced onion. Saute until translucent. Dump in a bunch of water, replace the ham hocks, add the beans and simmer all day until beans are done and salt to taste. This is my ultimate comfort food and one I make every single year where inevitably I buy ham hocks (or shanks) and the checker wrinkles their nose and asks what I might be making with THOSE! Make it even better with a batch of homemade corn bread. My grandfather was a back woods Southerner.
I grew up with my mom making a homemade chicken noodle soup straight from a chicken carcass and with thick doughy noodles. I can reproduce that soup to a tee, and it is spectacular. AB keeps every chicken carcass with the hopes that I might just get an inkling (like every month) to make homemade chicken noodle soup.
Every Thanksgiving I make my cream of mushroom soup where (since I am not a huge turkey fan) I could just eat bowl after bowl as my main dish. I make a mean red chili with beans and AB makes the most heavenly pork green chili each fall. Seriously yumm. AB also rocks at clam chowder. And my favorite soup out? Two of them… a local Italian restaurants minestrone topped with a dollop of pesto (it’s the pesto that sends it over the edge for me) and I will admit to drooling over Olive Garden’s Pasta Fazziole. The best soup I have ever tasted in my entire life? Bistro Jeanty's seafood bisque. Too.die.for.
Soups are really easy to make, incredibly versatile and yummy. I need to expand my soup repertoire. But for me, soup isn’t something you just make from a recipe. I get ideas from recipes. In my house, with the exception of my very basic ham hocks and beans recipe, soup is a big pot on the stove where you throw everything that sounds yummy.
Oh and the absolute best part of my lunch? The lemon poppy seed shortbread cookie. Now that, I need a recipe for.
Many people I work with rave and rave about this place. I realized its popularity when I arrived at 11:30am and within 10 minutes, the line was out the door. I do have to say though, that while it is good. It fell short of what I was expecting. Part of this is my typical foodie nature, I love good food and I seek out really good food. The other part of this I fear, was my reading the menu.
I envisioned a wide selection of soups and breads, where I would struggle to decide which to have and would probably end up having to try more than one. In fact, the menu was comprised mostly of sandwiches with two options for soup, the weekly soup (a corn chowder) and the daily soup (chicken and rice). I knew in an instant that with my sensitive stomach that the corn chowder would be a no go, but the chicken and rice sounded like the just the thing. Where my skewed view of the café probably came in was seeing the Friday soup of the day: “Ivar’s Clam Chowder”.
I immediately started wondering if the soup that I ordered was homemade or out of a can. It was good soup. It was very plain. Exactly what my stomach needed. I gobbled up every drip of the bowl I ordered and felt amazing afterwards. But let’s go back to the Ivar’s thing… and I love Ivar’s clam chowder… from Ivar’s. If you are familiar with Washington State you probably know that Ivar’s is a pretty famous and tasty chain that specializes in fish and chips, other fried seafood delicacies and clam and salmon chowder. It really is quite good. But I just have a mental block when it comes to a specialty soup joint serving someone elses soup! (Or chowder as the case may be.) Especially when you can get said chowder at the mall, the grocery store and Costco.
I grew up with homemade soups. My grandfather’s ham hocks and beans was the first soup I can remember gobbling up. Simple soup, soak your Great Northern beans overnight and pick them over. The next day sear your ham hocks in a large stew pot. Pull them out and add a diced onion. Saute until translucent. Dump in a bunch of water, replace the ham hocks, add the beans and simmer all day until beans are done and salt to taste. This is my ultimate comfort food and one I make every single year where inevitably I buy ham hocks (or shanks) and the checker wrinkles their nose and asks what I might be making with THOSE! Make it even better with a batch of homemade corn bread. My grandfather was a back woods Southerner.
I grew up with my mom making a homemade chicken noodle soup straight from a chicken carcass and with thick doughy noodles. I can reproduce that soup to a tee, and it is spectacular. AB keeps every chicken carcass with the hopes that I might just get an inkling (like every month) to make homemade chicken noodle soup.
Every Thanksgiving I make my cream of mushroom soup where (since I am not a huge turkey fan) I could just eat bowl after bowl as my main dish. I make a mean red chili with beans and AB makes the most heavenly pork green chili each fall. Seriously yumm. AB also rocks at clam chowder. And my favorite soup out? Two of them… a local Italian restaurants minestrone topped with a dollop of pesto (it’s the pesto that sends it over the edge for me) and I will admit to drooling over Olive Garden’s Pasta Fazziole. The best soup I have ever tasted in my entire life? Bistro Jeanty's seafood bisque. Too.die.for.
Soups are really easy to make, incredibly versatile and yummy. I need to expand my soup repertoire. But for me, soup isn’t something you just make from a recipe. I get ideas from recipes. In my house, with the exception of my very basic ham hocks and beans recipe, soup is a big pot on the stove where you throw everything that sounds yummy.
Oh and the absolute best part of my lunch? The lemon poppy seed shortbread cookie. Now that, I need a recipe for.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Our adventurous honeymoon
Today someone posted on our internal watercooler site asking for recommendations on travel to Costa Rica. Since AB and I went there for our honeymoon in 2000, I chimed in. I can now, after 6 years, look back on this trip with fondness. However, our week in Costa Rica was not the paradise we had been looking for. That said, we would go back in an instant. (Oh and I did not speak 90% of this story on the watercooler site.)
We managed to get to Costa Rica the night before a general civil strike began. The purpose of the general strike was to interrupt tourism and bring attention to the causes of the people of Costa Rica. I can’t remember a single one of the demands…
We woke up to news the next morning that instead of riding a bus to the east side of the country from the capital, we would be flown there. Our first thoughts were, ‘hey civil strike isn’t so bad!’ I get pretty serious motion sickness, so I had been a little concerned about a four hour bus ride. I’ll take a one hour flight instead! We spent about three days in the Tortuguerro Canals. Supplies were lean because they couldn’t get things shipped in due to the strike. Supplies mainly being alcohol. There was PLENTY of food to go around… beans and rice for all! Beans and rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner! Oh at lunch and dinner we did get shredded lettuce with some oil and vinegar drizzled over. I later found out that our beans and rice wasn’t due to shortage of supplies… nope, this is a Tican staple.
Near the end of our stay in Tortuguerro we were notified that we would have to vacate our cabana, new guests would be arriving. Where would we go? We were supposed to go to the volcano next? Nobody knew anything and suddenly people quit speaking English. They had no intentions of flying us back to the capitol city or to our next destination and we were just out of luck. We made efforts in trying to figure out how to contact the American embassy. We were feeling as though we were just left on the east side of Costa Rica without any resources. Our stay was done at the resort we were at and they plain didn’t care how we got to our next destination or IF we got there.
I was paranoid. Miss Plan-it-out was nervous and angry. My new husband was just beside himself, what could he do?
I don’t quite remember how it happened but we got word that we needed to go get on a boat immediately, which would take us by water for about an hour or so to a little town. We would get on a bus there that would take us to another local town about an hour away. We would be able to lunch there and then a private driver would pick us up and drive us all back roads (since the main highways were blocked) to our next destination. Shady? Yes, but what choice did we have? We had to at least get somewhere near civilization!
It all did pan out. Boat ride, bus ride, and car ride. The car ride was one of the best parts of the whole trip driving through all these little towns on the backroads with our own driver, who spoke little English. Fascinating.
We made it to Arenal volcano, or at least to our resort 25 miles from Arenal. We rejoiced in arriving to our destination. Smoked a Cuban cigar, ordered a bottle of wine and enjoyed the weirdest tasting beef with our rice and beans that night.
After a few nights near Arenal we were driven back to the capital city on the highways. The roads had just reopened that day and they were jam packed. Many, many tourists had been unable to get back to fly out for about six days. The capital city was packed. We went to our hotel and that night ordered a fantastic meal in the hotel that did NOT include rice and beans. I still remember the Caesar salad made table side and the bananas flambé.
Of course our travel perils weren’t over then. Nope, we arrived at the airport along with every single other tourist scheduled to fly out for the previous six days. We were offered $1000 vouchers, two of them, to fly to Panama, spend the night and fly out the next morning. We bit.
We arrived in Panama without the required Visa documentation, were not met at the airport by the promised American Airlines representative to take us to our hotel, hmmm what else? Oh yes, we were in Panama and didn’t even get to see the canal. We flew out the next morning. Panama to Miami, Miami to Dallas/Fort Worth where we were grounded due to tornados. I just wanted to get home. I sat down and nearly cried. Finally DFW to Reno and I was never so happy to be home. We had $2000 in vouchers in our hands that subsequently went nearly unused because of the extreme difficulty in using them. I still have them in a file somewhere and they might still be worth $500 or so after all the expiration fees are deducted. Vouchers suck.
So with all of our Costa Rica travel difficulties recounted, yes, I would go back in an instant. In all this recounting I failed to mention the awe of being woken up by howler monkeys, peeing in the early dawn with a toucan sitting four feet from my head watching with amazement, seeing Arenal volcano erupt while sitting in a hot springs pool with a swim up bar, seeing a very rare tapir mom and her baby, tasting a cacoa bean directly off the tree, admiring the local women scrubbing their front patios as we passed through the tiny villages on the back roads. Monkeys, birds, crocodiles, caiman, sea turtles, and sloths in their natural habitat. What could be better?
We managed to get to Costa Rica the night before a general civil strike began. The purpose of the general strike was to interrupt tourism and bring attention to the causes of the people of Costa Rica. I can’t remember a single one of the demands…
We woke up to news the next morning that instead of riding a bus to the east side of the country from the capital, we would be flown there. Our first thoughts were, ‘hey civil strike isn’t so bad!’ I get pretty serious motion sickness, so I had been a little concerned about a four hour bus ride. I’ll take a one hour flight instead! We spent about three days in the Tortuguerro Canals. Supplies were lean because they couldn’t get things shipped in due to the strike. Supplies mainly being alcohol. There was PLENTY of food to go around… beans and rice for all! Beans and rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner! Oh at lunch and dinner we did get shredded lettuce with some oil and vinegar drizzled over. I later found out that our beans and rice wasn’t due to shortage of supplies… nope, this is a Tican staple.
Near the end of our stay in Tortuguerro we were notified that we would have to vacate our cabana, new guests would be arriving. Where would we go? We were supposed to go to the volcano next? Nobody knew anything and suddenly people quit speaking English. They had no intentions of flying us back to the capitol city or to our next destination and we were just out of luck. We made efforts in trying to figure out how to contact the American embassy. We were feeling as though we were just left on the east side of Costa Rica without any resources. Our stay was done at the resort we were at and they plain didn’t care how we got to our next destination or IF we got there.
I was paranoid. Miss Plan-it-out was nervous and angry. My new husband was just beside himself, what could he do?
I don’t quite remember how it happened but we got word that we needed to go get on a boat immediately, which would take us by water for about an hour or so to a little town. We would get on a bus there that would take us to another local town about an hour away. We would be able to lunch there and then a private driver would pick us up and drive us all back roads (since the main highways were blocked) to our next destination. Shady? Yes, but what choice did we have? We had to at least get somewhere near civilization!
It all did pan out. Boat ride, bus ride, and car ride. The car ride was one of the best parts of the whole trip driving through all these little towns on the backroads with our own driver, who spoke little English. Fascinating.
We made it to Arenal volcano, or at least to our resort 25 miles from Arenal. We rejoiced in arriving to our destination. Smoked a Cuban cigar, ordered a bottle of wine and enjoyed the weirdest tasting beef with our rice and beans that night.
After a few nights near Arenal we were driven back to the capital city on the highways. The roads had just reopened that day and they were jam packed. Many, many tourists had been unable to get back to fly out for about six days. The capital city was packed. We went to our hotel and that night ordered a fantastic meal in the hotel that did NOT include rice and beans. I still remember the Caesar salad made table side and the bananas flambé.
Of course our travel perils weren’t over then. Nope, we arrived at the airport along with every single other tourist scheduled to fly out for the previous six days. We were offered $1000 vouchers, two of them, to fly to Panama, spend the night and fly out the next morning. We bit.
We arrived in Panama without the required Visa documentation, were not met at the airport by the promised American Airlines representative to take us to our hotel, hmmm what else? Oh yes, we were in Panama and didn’t even get to see the canal. We flew out the next morning. Panama to Miami, Miami to Dallas/Fort Worth where we were grounded due to tornados. I just wanted to get home. I sat down and nearly cried. Finally DFW to Reno and I was never so happy to be home. We had $2000 in vouchers in our hands that subsequently went nearly unused because of the extreme difficulty in using them. I still have them in a file somewhere and they might still be worth $500 or so after all the expiration fees are deducted. Vouchers suck.
So with all of our Costa Rica travel difficulties recounted, yes, I would go back in an instant. In all this recounting I failed to mention the awe of being woken up by howler monkeys, peeing in the early dawn with a toucan sitting four feet from my head watching with amazement, seeing Arenal volcano erupt while sitting in a hot springs pool with a swim up bar, seeing a very rare tapir mom and her baby, tasting a cacoa bean directly off the tree, admiring the local women scrubbing their front patios as we passed through the tiny villages on the back roads. Monkeys, birds, crocodiles, caiman, sea turtles, and sloths in their natural habitat. What could be better?
Monday, August 14, 2006
Peer pressure and a loyal marketing subject at age two
For the past few weeks when I drop Leif off, we empty his lunchbox into the fridge and he diligently shows me Soren’s yogurt, “Mommy see Sorens?”. Soren gets the Danimals drinkable yogurts while Leif has to live with Tillamook (which is darn expensive yogurt). Leif = enamored. Silly mommy, evidently I did not pick this up that Leif just really, really wanted these Danimals yogurts himself. I don’t know what I thought. Other than maybe, oh something like, “put back your friend’s food where it belongs!”
I can see why he likes them, bright colors, puffy writing, small portable size… marketed straight to a two year old of course!
I finally got the message the other day as we were cruising the dairy aisle. Evidently mommy is a little slow on the uptake and lucky for me “I want” has not yet entered Leif’s vocab. There was much squealing as we cruised right on past the Danimals drinkable yogurt packs. Silly me, I stop, what exactly was provoking the squealing? I follow the finger waving until, ah ha! Mystery solved. There were many grins and claps when I succumbed and bought two four packs (in exchange for Gogurt, which I find just kind of nasty anyways to slurp yogurt out of plastic tubes).
This morning we went into daycare and emptied his lunch into the fridge. I had one overjoyed child on my hands when he reached into HIS lunchbox and pulled out the Danimals yogurt cup. He pranced around the room with it and showed each teacher saying “See mine!” each time. Miss K finally got him to put it in the fridge so he would have it with lunch. She also said that she would be sitting he and Soren next to each other so they could mutually admire each other’s yogurt.
So yes, my son caves to peer pressure and the ploys of marketing. But it eventually falls on mommy’s shoulders as the consumer. What? It isn’t like it was candy! It’s yogurt!
I can see why he likes them, bright colors, puffy writing, small portable size… marketed straight to a two year old of course!
I finally got the message the other day as we were cruising the dairy aisle. Evidently mommy is a little slow on the uptake and lucky for me “I want” has not yet entered Leif’s vocab. There was much squealing as we cruised right on past the Danimals drinkable yogurt packs. Silly me, I stop, what exactly was provoking the squealing? I follow the finger waving until, ah ha! Mystery solved. There were many grins and claps when I succumbed and bought two four packs (in exchange for Gogurt, which I find just kind of nasty anyways to slurp yogurt out of plastic tubes).
This morning we went into daycare and emptied his lunch into the fridge. I had one overjoyed child on my hands when he reached into HIS lunchbox and pulled out the Danimals yogurt cup. He pranced around the room with it and showed each teacher saying “See mine!” each time. Miss K finally got him to put it in the fridge so he would have it with lunch. She also said that she would be sitting he and Soren next to each other so they could mutually admire each other’s yogurt.
So yes, my son caves to peer pressure and the ploys of marketing. But it eventually falls on mommy’s shoulders as the consumer. What? It isn’t like it was candy! It’s yogurt!
Friday, August 11, 2006
A sense of purpose
My horoscope today:
"You have a clearer sense of purpose today than you've had in a long time -- use it!"
Yesterday morning we woke up, like everyone else around the world, to the news that a major terror plot had been foiled. I don’t kid myself that terror plots aren’t foiled week after week. Wow, I love living in one of the many countries with advanced intelligence to thwart such evil. I am not an overly political person (like AB). I have my opinions and can effectively debate them (thanks AB) and I find myself to be pretty middle of the road, a fiscally conservative, socially liberal woman who believes in a woman’s right to choose, gay rights to marry and that my money is my hard earned money and I will manage it thank you very much. I believe in the minimization of government and it’s impact on our daily lives while maintaining safety and security around the US and abroad when necessary. I am in the minority of people that actually like our president despite not always agreeing with his every move. I feel privileged to be born in this country and raising my family here.
However, things like this scare the living daylights out of me. (Just what they want to hear, right?) The knowledge that someone is so incredibly intent on harming us that they would take explosives to this level of planning. It makes me sick. It makes me want to hug my family close and hide from everyone. We just want to live a good, happy life. A simple life?
Those of you who know me, know that I work as a scientist and likely in what field I work. I entered this field in the post-9/11 aftermath because there was a huge shortage of US born scientists and because of the serious black hole of semiconductor jobs available. It wasn’t my original calling. I never expected when I went to grad school that this is where I would be or what I would be doing. Back then it was just a job and something I could move out of “when all this ends”. Over the last four and a half years it has become what I do, and over the next 30 years it will likely have become how I have made my life.
My mentor labeled me recently as “adaptable” and probably to a fault. I can pick nearly anything up and run with it. My level of knowledge may never reach the expert level, but I am competent in a very broad range of subjects. I was a physical chemist who never took a radiochemistry or nuclear physics class who came to work side by side with nuclear physicists and engineers. I was an expert in vacuum technology who has broken in as a supercritical fluids nut. (And they are ALL nuts.) And today, I am a theoretical surface scientist who has been pulled into explosives work.
Today my adaptability paid off. Today, the day that a major explosives plot was uncovered my gears have been switched. I sit here thrilled with the prospect of taking over the lead on a project for one of the preeminent explosives detection individuals in the world as he jet sets off to solve the present day problems. I sit here with mixed feelings as I see my career take off in a new and fascinating direction. Why? Because someone wanted to kill us. Mixed feelings. If this all went away, I would be out a job.
To hell with it. Go for it! Put me out of a job, I could always teach.
"You have a clearer sense of purpose today than you've had in a long time -- use it!"
Yesterday morning we woke up, like everyone else around the world, to the news that a major terror plot had been foiled. I don’t kid myself that terror plots aren’t foiled week after week. Wow, I love living in one of the many countries with advanced intelligence to thwart such evil. I am not an overly political person (like AB). I have my opinions and can effectively debate them (thanks AB) and I find myself to be pretty middle of the road, a fiscally conservative, socially liberal woman who believes in a woman’s right to choose, gay rights to marry and that my money is my hard earned money and I will manage it thank you very much. I believe in the minimization of government and it’s impact on our daily lives while maintaining safety and security around the US and abroad when necessary. I am in the minority of people that actually like our president despite not always agreeing with his every move. I feel privileged to be born in this country and raising my family here.
However, things like this scare the living daylights out of me. (Just what they want to hear, right?) The knowledge that someone is so incredibly intent on harming us that they would take explosives to this level of planning. It makes me sick. It makes me want to hug my family close and hide from everyone. We just want to live a good, happy life. A simple life?
Those of you who know me, know that I work as a scientist and likely in what field I work. I entered this field in the post-9/11 aftermath because there was a huge shortage of US born scientists and because of the serious black hole of semiconductor jobs available. It wasn’t my original calling. I never expected when I went to grad school that this is where I would be or what I would be doing. Back then it was just a job and something I could move out of “when all this ends”. Over the last four and a half years it has become what I do, and over the next 30 years it will likely have become how I have made my life.
My mentor labeled me recently as “adaptable” and probably to a fault. I can pick nearly anything up and run with it. My level of knowledge may never reach the expert level, but I am competent in a very broad range of subjects. I was a physical chemist who never took a radiochemistry or nuclear physics class who came to work side by side with nuclear physicists and engineers. I was an expert in vacuum technology who has broken in as a supercritical fluids nut. (And they are ALL nuts.) And today, I am a theoretical surface scientist who has been pulled into explosives work.
Today my adaptability paid off. Today, the day that a major explosives plot was uncovered my gears have been switched. I sit here thrilled with the prospect of taking over the lead on a project for one of the preeminent explosives detection individuals in the world as he jet sets off to solve the present day problems. I sit here with mixed feelings as I see my career take off in a new and fascinating direction. Why? Because someone wanted to kill us. Mixed feelings. If this all went away, I would be out a job.
To hell with it. Go for it! Put me out of a job, I could always teach.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Is it done yet?
With all due apologies to Rockergirrl… I am ready for the summer to be over! September may be the new August, but I am ready to move onto the fall.
I was never a summer person. Ever since I can remember I lived for winter. For skiing and sledding and playing in the snow. For hot cocoa and fires in fireplaces and a big bowl of something hot and yummy. It is only since moving here that I have really grown to love the summer. The long days, the delicious, fresh produce, the BBQs. Summer here does offer a lot to love. Far more than our winter days – and the REAL winter days, are few and far between. Winter here is a dreary, grey, rainy, sleety, foggy mess.
But here is what it comes down to for me. It is hot and I am tired of picking tomatoes. Tired of staying on top of deadheading my flowers. Tired of wondering if that plant would do better if I dug it up and moved it over there. Tired of my air conditioner running all.the.time. And tired of paying for my air conditioner to run all.the.time. I am tired of sitting in my office freezing when I dress for the season. And tired of roasting when I where long sleeves to survive my office, but then eventually have to leave my office.
I want to take Leif to the harvest festival to pick out some pumpkins. I am already considering options for Halloween costumes (he wants to be a train… or at least that is the only costume he responds to in the catalog). I want to cook chili and hear the football game on in the background. I want to decorate for fall and Halloween. I want to cook hearty meals of braised lamb shanks and white bean soup. And I am really ready for the weather to cool down.
Last night was just muggy. It was hot and overcast, getting ready to thunderstorm, and we were slaving away picking tomatoes. I have never in my life gotten the yield of tomatoes we have this year. Nearly bordering on ridiculous. When in one night we can pick off of our own plants an entire fruit box full of tomatoes, that is a lot of 'maters'. AB is going to be busy with batch number two of spaghetti sauce.
I know, why make spaghetti sauce from scratch when you can buy it for dirt cheap? Because we love it. I love that there is not a teaspoon of sugar in our sauce. It contains exactly what we want (tomatoes, onions, garlic, red bell peppers, cayennes, hot Italian sausage, mushrooms, basil and oregano). I love the way it makes my house smell while it simmers down to a thick sauce. AB has mastered his sauce making technique over the years. We nearly had enough last year to make it a full year without buying spaghetti sauce, but were about 2 containers short. Oh and Leif LOVES it. Saturday night he helped himself to FOUR servings of spinach pasta with sauce. He ate well over twice as much as I did. The kid gobbles the stuff. And OMG did I mention it is heavenly? Delicious.
Salsa is on the list too. AB is talking about making a yellow tomato, pineapple and ginger salsa as well as a traditional hot as hell salsa. The main issues we have with salsa is how to store it. If you can it and process, the flavor changes drastically. How about freezing? Does anyone freeze salsa?
Fall is obviously nearing as my grapes are undergoing verizon, or venison, or veraison. Oh hell, they are changing! I found one very exposed cluster that was raisins. But the other more protected clusters are starting to show signs of purple. Which also reminds me that I need to order the grape spiral and the fine mesh for my food mill, that this time a year, gets loads of use.
Signs of summer winding down are all around us. I am enjoying this last hurrah of summer 2006. But will be welcoming fall in the door with big open arms. Embrace me!
I was never a summer person. Ever since I can remember I lived for winter. For skiing and sledding and playing in the snow. For hot cocoa and fires in fireplaces and a big bowl of something hot and yummy. It is only since moving here that I have really grown to love the summer. The long days, the delicious, fresh produce, the BBQs. Summer here does offer a lot to love. Far more than our winter days – and the REAL winter days, are few and far between. Winter here is a dreary, grey, rainy, sleety, foggy mess.
But here is what it comes down to for me. It is hot and I am tired of picking tomatoes. Tired of staying on top of deadheading my flowers. Tired of wondering if that plant would do better if I dug it up and moved it over there. Tired of my air conditioner running all.the.time. And tired of paying for my air conditioner to run all.the.time. I am tired of sitting in my office freezing when I dress for the season. And tired of roasting when I where long sleeves to survive my office, but then eventually have to leave my office.
I want to take Leif to the harvest festival to pick out some pumpkins. I am already considering options for Halloween costumes (he wants to be a train… or at least that is the only costume he responds to in the catalog). I want to cook chili and hear the football game on in the background. I want to decorate for fall and Halloween. I want to cook hearty meals of braised lamb shanks and white bean soup. And I am really ready for the weather to cool down.
Last night was just muggy. It was hot and overcast, getting ready to thunderstorm, and we were slaving away picking tomatoes. I have never in my life gotten the yield of tomatoes we have this year. Nearly bordering on ridiculous. When in one night we can pick off of our own plants an entire fruit box full of tomatoes, that is a lot of 'maters'. AB is going to be busy with batch number two of spaghetti sauce.
I know, why make spaghetti sauce from scratch when you can buy it for dirt cheap? Because we love it. I love that there is not a teaspoon of sugar in our sauce. It contains exactly what we want (tomatoes, onions, garlic, red bell peppers, cayennes, hot Italian sausage, mushrooms, basil and oregano). I love the way it makes my house smell while it simmers down to a thick sauce. AB has mastered his sauce making technique over the years. We nearly had enough last year to make it a full year without buying spaghetti sauce, but were about 2 containers short. Oh and Leif LOVES it. Saturday night he helped himself to FOUR servings of spinach pasta with sauce. He ate well over twice as much as I did. The kid gobbles the stuff. And OMG did I mention it is heavenly? Delicious.
Salsa is on the list too. AB is talking about making a yellow tomato, pineapple and ginger salsa as well as a traditional hot as hell salsa. The main issues we have with salsa is how to store it. If you can it and process, the flavor changes drastically. How about freezing? Does anyone freeze salsa?
Fall is obviously nearing as my grapes are undergoing verizon, or venison, or veraison. Oh hell, they are changing! I found one very exposed cluster that was raisins. But the other more protected clusters are starting to show signs of purple. Which also reminds me that I need to order the grape spiral and the fine mesh for my food mill, that this time a year, gets loads of use.
Signs of summer winding down are all around us. I am enjoying this last hurrah of summer 2006. But will be welcoming fall in the door with big open arms. Embrace me!
Monday, August 07, 2006
How to save $30
AB NEEDS new tires. No two ways about it. When one of the tires finally wouldn’t hold air anymore I was actually somewhat pleased, he *had* to get new tires. No, I don’t relish spending $300 on tires, but the thought of my most precious cargo (my husband and son) riding in a car with unsafe tires just really freaks me out.
AB relented and finally agreed. This morning he called Les Schwab and then Costco. He ends up at Costco getting a quote and phones to tell me the low end tires at Les Schwab were $30 less than the mid range, brand name tires at Costco. It’s a toss up. I tell him, “you are there at Costco, just do it there”. We hang up.
AB calls me irate nearly 2 hours later.
AB: *Explitive* Les Schwab.
NM: Les Schwab? I thought you were at Costco?
AB: Yeah well they were going to take 1.5 – 2 hours, I didn’t want to wait, so I figured I would save $30 and go to Les Schwab.
NM: And?
AB: And I am so fricking irate right now. I have been waiting two hours, I have my meeting at the university, so I left with the spare on. But they didn’t put the other tire back in my car so I have to go back and get it.
NM: Why do you need to go back and get it?
AB: Because my RIM is attached to it.
NM: Oh. So they were changing the tire and you left?
AB: No…
(long story shorter, the tires were still under warranty, they thought they could fix the tire, spent nearly an hour to discover the radial was separating and it was not fixable, not only that but he couldn’t drive on it. They said since they were still under warranty they could give him 30% off… one tire. But since he has an AWD car you can’t just buy one tire, you have to buy new all around. So he decided to do that, but wait, they only had the top of the line tires in stock at nearly $140 more than he was initially quoted and it would be another 2 hours to put those tires on.)
NM: So what are you doing?
AB: Going back to get my rim, going to my meeting and then going to Costco to get new tires.
I am not giggling, really I am not.
AB relented and finally agreed. This morning he called Les Schwab and then Costco. He ends up at Costco getting a quote and phones to tell me the low end tires at Les Schwab were $30 less than the mid range, brand name tires at Costco. It’s a toss up. I tell him, “you are there at Costco, just do it there”. We hang up.
AB calls me irate nearly 2 hours later.
AB: *Explitive* Les Schwab.
NM: Les Schwab? I thought you were at Costco?
AB: Yeah well they were going to take 1.5 – 2 hours, I didn’t want to wait, so I figured I would save $30 and go to Les Schwab.
NM: And?
AB: And I am so fricking irate right now. I have been waiting two hours, I have my meeting at the university, so I left with the spare on. But they didn’t put the other tire back in my car so I have to go back and get it.
NM: Why do you need to go back and get it?
AB: Because my RIM is attached to it.
NM: Oh. So they were changing the tire and you left?
AB: No…
(long story shorter, the tires were still under warranty, they thought they could fix the tire, spent nearly an hour to discover the radial was separating and it was not fixable, not only that but he couldn’t drive on it. They said since they were still under warranty they could give him 30% off… one tire. But since he has an AWD car you can’t just buy one tire, you have to buy new all around. So he decided to do that, but wait, they only had the top of the line tires in stock at nearly $140 more than he was initially quoted and it would be another 2 hours to put those tires on.)
NM: So what are you doing?
AB: Going back to get my rim, going to my meeting and then going to Costco to get new tires.
I am not giggling, really I am not.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
String Bean's Stats - 2 years
35 ¾” tall – 80th percentile
27 lbs 11 oz – 40th percentile
Head – 50th percentile (Finally a normal sized head measurement!)
He is a tall, skinny boy. No surprise coming from his father, who is tall and was a string bean. Then he met me. And I fed him good food.
He is very healthy. In fact, his doctor commented that she hadn’t seen him since November and had actually wondered if we had moved or changed doctors! Nope. Just healthy.
He was not thrilled to be measured or weighed and was quite positive we were setting him up for torture. I was happy he took his blankey (he calls it his wonky, and it is a horribly battered, torn and miserable piece of cloth…) into the office as he was able to sit and cling to it for additional comfort.
He passed the question answer stage with flying colors. “Does he put two words together?” Yes, he routinely says 3-4 word sentences. Example yesterday “I do big toot!” Yay, I am so proud. “Does he have 20 words?” Easily, he is very verbal (and vocal as the waiting room could attest to). “How is his diet?” Evidently great at daycare! Oh, you wanted to know about home too? Umm yeah… is he supposed to eat more than 1 or 2 things at home?
All in all he is doing great! We will opt for the Hep A vaccine at his next appointment. They expect it will be required for kindergarten admission by the time he is that age, and we just think it is a good idea. My grandmother contracted Hep A while working as a nurse and it was miserable for her. Hep A is on the increase and if it can be prevented I will subject Leif to yet another shot. But not this time… since I promised no shots. I know… he probably doesn’t comprehend, but since I touted up the “no shots this time at the doctor” even though he probably doesn’t remember his last shots. I just couldn’t do it this time around. AB agreed.
27 lbs 11 oz – 40th percentile
Head – 50th percentile (Finally a normal sized head measurement!)
He is a tall, skinny boy. No surprise coming from his father, who is tall and was a string bean. Then he met me. And I fed him good food.
He is very healthy. In fact, his doctor commented that she hadn’t seen him since November and had actually wondered if we had moved or changed doctors! Nope. Just healthy.
He was not thrilled to be measured or weighed and was quite positive we were setting him up for torture. I was happy he took his blankey (he calls it his wonky, and it is a horribly battered, torn and miserable piece of cloth…) into the office as he was able to sit and cling to it for additional comfort.
He passed the question answer stage with flying colors. “Does he put two words together?” Yes, he routinely says 3-4 word sentences. Example yesterday “I do big toot!” Yay, I am so proud. “Does he have 20 words?” Easily, he is very verbal (and vocal as the waiting room could attest to). “How is his diet?” Evidently great at daycare! Oh, you wanted to know about home too? Umm yeah… is he supposed to eat more than 1 or 2 things at home?
All in all he is doing great! We will opt for the Hep A vaccine at his next appointment. They expect it will be required for kindergarten admission by the time he is that age, and we just think it is a good idea. My grandmother contracted Hep A while working as a nurse and it was miserable for her. Hep A is on the increase and if it can be prevented I will subject Leif to yet another shot. But not this time… since I promised no shots. I know… he probably doesn’t comprehend, but since I touted up the “no shots this time at the doctor” even though he probably doesn’t remember his last shots. I just couldn’t do it this time around. AB agreed.
The real announcement
I can't slip anything by!
Yes, you read correctly in the below post. We are expecting number two next March. March 18th to be exact, which means I am totally off the hook for buying AB an anniversary gift… but I should note that he is not and on top of the anniversary gift there better be a nice aquamarine enhanced piece of jewelry as a birthing gift. ;-)
I actually hadn’t really intended on divulging our news until after my first appointment next Tuesday. But an important thought in my yesterday’s blog entry was how do you deal with two children. How do you love them equally, like them equally, etc. This is in relation to myself as a child and sibling as well as a mother.
We are thrilled beyond belief. Already I am finding this pregnancy very different from the first. With Leif I just wanted more time. More time to plan, more time to prepare and 40 weeks gave me that time. Now that I know what is on the other side, I just can’t wait for it to go by. The other major difference this time around is my horrible, horrible nausea. I am so sick. Sick enough that I fear leaving my house or office, I fear meetings, I skipped book club the other night. A friend of mine encouraged me to call my doctor, which I did this morning and while listing off my symptoms and explaining that I know this is to be expected, the nurse interrupted me and said she had faxed me a prescription to my pharmacy. AB is picking it up for me. I am really hoping for some relief.
Because I don’t want this blog to turn into a whiny pregnancy blog, and I know that many of my friends and readers are really just not all that interested in pregnancy, I plan to minimize the talk here. I have started a new blog to post all the gory details in and it can be found here. Visit if you want, ignore it if you rather.
And thanks everyone for the congrats!
Yes, you read correctly in the below post. We are expecting number two next March. March 18th to be exact, which means I am totally off the hook for buying AB an anniversary gift… but I should note that he is not and on top of the anniversary gift there better be a nice aquamarine enhanced piece of jewelry as a birthing gift. ;-)
I actually hadn’t really intended on divulging our news until after my first appointment next Tuesday. But an important thought in my yesterday’s blog entry was how do you deal with two children. How do you love them equally, like them equally, etc. This is in relation to myself as a child and sibling as well as a mother.
We are thrilled beyond belief. Already I am finding this pregnancy very different from the first. With Leif I just wanted more time. More time to plan, more time to prepare and 40 weeks gave me that time. Now that I know what is on the other side, I just can’t wait for it to go by. The other major difference this time around is my horrible, horrible nausea. I am so sick. Sick enough that I fear leaving my house or office, I fear meetings, I skipped book club the other night. A friend of mine encouraged me to call my doctor, which I did this morning and while listing off my symptoms and explaining that I know this is to be expected, the nurse interrupted me and said she had faxed me a prescription to my pharmacy. AB is picking it up for me. I am really hoping for some relief.
Because I don’t want this blog to turn into a whiny pregnancy blog, and I know that many of my friends and readers are really just not all that interested in pregnancy, I plan to minimize the talk here. I have started a new blog to post all the gory details in and it can be found here. Visit if you want, ignore it if you rather.
And thanks everyone for the congrats!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Happy Birthday Mom!
My mom and I have gotten to a point in our lives where we are good friends. We talk regularly, we opt to spend vacations together, we greatly respect each other, and I am proud to say she is my mom.
I was a lucky kid. We didn’t have a lot growing up, but we had what we needed. I grew up in the two parent, two kid, dog, cat and fish household of the 70’s. I had a Lite-Brite, Barbies, and loved to do gymnastics. We had two trees in our front yard, a swingset and sandbox in the back yard. My mom was a SAHM and my dad worked his rear off in a uranium mine to support us. Life was good. I played t-ball and then softball in the summers. We skied every winter. We were a busy, active family.
Things did change when my parents divorced about 1984. I didn’t see it coming. I was entering a very selfish phase where I just wondered how it would affect ME. I was twelve when my parents divorced and for those of you with experience with pre-teen girls, you already know this is a time of pure misery. It wasn’t just that my mom saw me as a misery, I was miserable.
Mother daughter relationships are difficult. Simply put. There are days I want a girl so bad, and then the days I think about how awful I was with my mom so often and I hope for a second boy. Boys always love their moms.
My mom and I battled a lot from junior high up through much of college and beyond. Early on, a lot was about my curfew and how strict she was with it. Some about my choice in friends. In one instance I felt that her expectations of me were just so incredibly high. At the other instant I just wanted her to look at me and tell me she cared. That I didn’t ruin her life by ending her teenage years short. I wanted her to love me as much as she did my sister. I wanted her to talk to me on the phone like she did my sister. I wanted that when we talked on the phone, and my sister would call her and call waiting beeped, that she would come back to me, instead of leaving me on hold in favor of my sister every single time.
I have grown up. I am now a mom, soon to be of two, and I wonder how in the world you can ever love your children the same? Each child is of a different personality, and from my own experience in different professional development classes, I have learned that not all styles meld. Fact of life.
My mom and I just really needed to find our friendship. I believe that one of the key contributing factors to finding our friendship was that I moved away. Everyone expected me to be the one that never left Colorado. But I left the state for grad school, which was one of the single hardest things I have ever done. It was also one of the single best things I have ever done. The first few months, I called my mom nearly daily, telling her of every little event in my life. Finally, I cut the strings. I started talking to her once a week on the phone. I started making my own decisions without consulting her. Suddenly, I became a much happier person.
I don’t want to sound like my mom made me miserable! She didn’t. But we were stuck in a rut of parent and child. And I was no longer a child. We had to break out of that in order for me to grow as an adult.
Our friendship has evolved over the past few years into something that is so valuable to me, it is beyond words. I see that my mom has great respect for me, she is proud of what I have done in my life and she likes me. I have tremendous respect for my mom as a hard worker, determined and through thick and thin, she still maintained to my sister and I that we would go to college and make something of our lives. She was the model of a strong female role model. And she is a super grandma!
We like the same things in life, good food, good wine, and having opportunities in life. As much as she still wants to make sure I have everything I need, she has also stepped back and let AB and I live our lives as husband and wife without interdiction.
I think of the little things I will do differently if I am blessed with a daughter. My mom was never into girly girl things. And I WAS (and maybe still am) a girly girl. ;-) There are little things, like taking her to the makeup counter at Macys to get makeovers or shoe shopping or prom dress shopping that I look forward to doing with a daughter. But I cannot for the life of me come up with major things I would do differently than she did.
Thanks Mom!
I was a lucky kid. We didn’t have a lot growing up, but we had what we needed. I grew up in the two parent, two kid, dog, cat and fish household of the 70’s. I had a Lite-Brite, Barbies, and loved to do gymnastics. We had two trees in our front yard, a swingset and sandbox in the back yard. My mom was a SAHM and my dad worked his rear off in a uranium mine to support us. Life was good. I played t-ball and then softball in the summers. We skied every winter. We were a busy, active family.
Things did change when my parents divorced about 1984. I didn’t see it coming. I was entering a very selfish phase where I just wondered how it would affect ME. I was twelve when my parents divorced and for those of you with experience with pre-teen girls, you already know this is a time of pure misery. It wasn’t just that my mom saw me as a misery, I was miserable.
Mother daughter relationships are difficult. Simply put. There are days I want a girl so bad, and then the days I think about how awful I was with my mom so often and I hope for a second boy. Boys always love their moms.
My mom and I battled a lot from junior high up through much of college and beyond. Early on, a lot was about my curfew and how strict she was with it. Some about my choice in friends. In one instance I felt that her expectations of me were just so incredibly high. At the other instant I just wanted her to look at me and tell me she cared. That I didn’t ruin her life by ending her teenage years short. I wanted her to love me as much as she did my sister. I wanted her to talk to me on the phone like she did my sister. I wanted that when we talked on the phone, and my sister would call her and call waiting beeped, that she would come back to me, instead of leaving me on hold in favor of my sister every single time.
I have grown up. I am now a mom, soon to be of two, and I wonder how in the world you can ever love your children the same? Each child is of a different personality, and from my own experience in different professional development classes, I have learned that not all styles meld. Fact of life.
My mom and I just really needed to find our friendship. I believe that one of the key contributing factors to finding our friendship was that I moved away. Everyone expected me to be the one that never left Colorado. But I left the state for grad school, which was one of the single hardest things I have ever done. It was also one of the single best things I have ever done. The first few months, I called my mom nearly daily, telling her of every little event in my life. Finally, I cut the strings. I started talking to her once a week on the phone. I started making my own decisions without consulting her. Suddenly, I became a much happier person.
I don’t want to sound like my mom made me miserable! She didn’t. But we were stuck in a rut of parent and child. And I was no longer a child. We had to break out of that in order for me to grow as an adult.
Our friendship has evolved over the past few years into something that is so valuable to me, it is beyond words. I see that my mom has great respect for me, she is proud of what I have done in my life and she likes me. I have tremendous respect for my mom as a hard worker, determined and through thick and thin, she still maintained to my sister and I that we would go to college and make something of our lives. She was the model of a strong female role model. And she is a super grandma!
We like the same things in life, good food, good wine, and having opportunities in life. As much as she still wants to make sure I have everything I need, she has also stepped back and let AB and I live our lives as husband and wife without interdiction.
I think of the little things I will do differently if I am blessed with a daughter. My mom was never into girly girl things. And I WAS (and maybe still am) a girly girl. ;-) There are little things, like taking her to the makeup counter at Macys to get makeovers or shoe shopping or prom dress shopping that I look forward to doing with a daughter. But I cannot for the life of me come up with major things I would do differently than she did.
Thanks Mom!
Dear Leif
Really, kiss starts with the same sound as "cat" and "kitty" and "kooky". Not the sound that starts off "pat" or "pajamas".
Thanks,
Mommy
Thanks,
Mommy
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Keeping busy
I wish I could say I was keeping busy with work I actually get paid for, but alas, no charge code. My big proposal is going out and each day it is getting more and more exciting. Today I was offered a collaborator from the same industry as the funding agent. An in. And I get to maintain the IP, I just need to farm out the thin film analysis to their lab. Oh and bonus? They are located in Vargas Girl's hometown. If this is funded I could be flying there on a somewhat regular basis. Wahoo!
We are looking forward to Oysterfest and Seafood Festival 2006 already. We have the cabin for that weekend AND my mom and stepdad are buying tickets tomorrow to come up and join us! I am really looking forward to that, we had such a good time with them three years ago at the cabin.
Leif is as busy as can be and has most recently decided to start acting like a two year old. It really is just overnight that they become obstinate, disagreeable little two year olds. He cried and cried for most of our walk this evening. The best that AB and I can figure out is it had to do with getting the mail and likely that *I* opened the mailbox instead of letting him do it. Sigh.
This is a boring post. I just am tired, very, very tired. Oh and Big Brother starts shortly...
We are looking forward to Oysterfest and Seafood Festival 2006 already. We have the cabin for that weekend AND my mom and stepdad are buying tickets tomorrow to come up and join us! I am really looking forward to that, we had such a good time with them three years ago at the cabin.
Leif is as busy as can be and has most recently decided to start acting like a two year old. It really is just overnight that they become obstinate, disagreeable little two year olds. He cried and cried for most of our walk this evening. The best that AB and I can figure out is it had to do with getting the mail and likely that *I* opened the mailbox instead of letting him do it. Sigh.
This is a boring post. I just am tired, very, very tired. Oh and Big Brother starts shortly...
Surviving a Monday
Not being able to get ahold of spouse all day because adorable son knocked the phone off the hook. Annoying.
Spilling my drink down my leg in my car at lunch. A little more than annoyed. (At least non-machine washable pants don’t absorb moisture… they just wrinkle up in a really funky, nasty and probably irreparable fashion.)
Legal speak, cost analysis, more acronyms than I know what to do with. Frustrating.
Finding a financial specialist who will act as project manager who has not asked me for a charge code? Priceless.
Spilling my drink down my leg in my car at lunch. A little more than annoyed. (At least non-machine washable pants don’t absorb moisture… they just wrinkle up in a really funky, nasty and probably irreparable fashion.)
Legal speak, cost analysis, more acronyms than I know what to do with. Frustrating.
Finding a financial specialist who will act as project manager who has not asked me for a charge code? Priceless.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Happy Birthday Leif!
Dear Leif,
You are two years old today. Remember the day when I thought you would never talk? We anxiously awaited your first words? Where did that day go? You talk non-stop now and your father and I can hardly get a word in edgewise. Or how about you toddling about, falling down after every 6 steps? Well you still fall down a lot, as evidence by your perpetually bruised legs, but can you slow down a little? It’s awfully hard for us to keep up.
We go for walks every night and you enjoy that. Although you always persist in heading the opposite way then we want to go. Is this indicative of what is to come? Are you always going to seek to be contrary? I realize the sun is in your eyes, but if you don’t keep your sunglasses (sassies) on then it will be at some point on our walk. It is really cute the way you emulate Winny on our walks, albeit a little gross when you get down on all fours next to her and sniff the grass like she does. I know what she is sniffing and would really rather you not sniff it as well. You are very demanding with Winny and scream at her nearly the entire walk, “Winny stop! Winny heel! Winny come! Winny no!” I don’t really yell at her *that* much, do I? Poor dog.
We are truly impressed with your reading skills. Last night you sat down and read the entire “Brown Bear, Brown Bear” book to daddy and I. Today you did it for grandma on the webcam. We beamed the entire time. You love books and some of your favorites right now are your Trucks book, the Air and Space book I brought you back from the Smithsonian last year, Goodnight Moon, the Ernie potty book (and Bert REALLY does go on the potty).
You really like movies and have gone back to the old Nemo standby. I tried pushing Brother Bear on you last weekend, but you got very mad when the bears weren’t on. You picked out the worst movie ever last weekend at Blockbuster. You get this from me, I tend to also pick out the worst movies ever. This one was called Stuart Little 3. I am quite positive you picked it out because there was a mouse on the cover. But really, it was horrible. Let’s not get that one again. You like Little Einsteins and enjoy singing along to the songs as well as Sesame Street (Cookie Monster and Ernie are your favorites). You have mastered the cookie monster voice.
Your closest friends are Cate and Atticus. You also like Jonathen, Liam, Soren and Sebastion from daycare. Ok here’s something you can explain to me… why do you eat everything under the sun at daycare, but are picky as can be at home? You are the apple of your teachers eyes. We hear stories about you that both crack us up and frighten us. Example, you pulled a little girl’s hair at school the other day. Your teacher got mad at you and told you not to do that and wouldn’t pick you up when you cried. You went to your former teacher, Miss Sufia, who was over with her class and told her you hurt yourself. She, of course, picked you up to snuggle. Cunning little boy, you are!
Speaking of owies. We need to discuss the little boy who cried wolf. Every five minutes you have a new owie. You have my klutziness… but it isn’t *that* severe. Just because mommy and daddy aren’t paying attention for a second, does not constitute an owie. And not every owie needs a Nemo band-aid. If every owie did, you would be a walking band-aid. We can’t afford that many band-aids.
You really enjoy water play, swimming, TumbleBus (where you do the zip line all by yourself) and any other activity that requires you to get up and move. Unfortunately the TumbleBus is not at my beck and call, and screaming for the bus at 7pm will not yield results.
You are being a little tease with us as far as counting and ABC’s goes. Your father and I have heard you count to 10 twice now. Perfectly. But when asked to count to 10, you tell us, three, eight, eight, eight. You perplex us. You have portions of your ABC’s, thanks mostly to Choo Choo Soul I am positive. Oh well, you are learning. Mommy is just jealous is all, I would say you will understand someday, but alas, you are a boy.
You truly have a magnetic personality. You draw people in, engage them and make them laugh. You have a knack for this, which confounds me. All I can say is that you did not get this from me. It frightens us a little as we see your personality develop. I worry of your trusting nature, your extreme outgoing nature and your tendencies to get that glimmer in your eye that reminds me so much of your grandma! Yes dear boy, you have been graced with grandma C’s personality! That means you will always be surrounded by friends, you will have an incredible knack for making people laugh and bringing people together. It also means you will throw a mean party (fear in mommy’s heart) and will pack for a blizzard in the middle of summer. Oh wait, maybe that is just a C family trait…
Happy Birthday Leif!
Love, Mommy
You are two years old today. Remember the day when I thought you would never talk? We anxiously awaited your first words? Where did that day go? You talk non-stop now and your father and I can hardly get a word in edgewise. Or how about you toddling about, falling down after every 6 steps? Well you still fall down a lot, as evidence by your perpetually bruised legs, but can you slow down a little? It’s awfully hard for us to keep up.
We go for walks every night and you enjoy that. Although you always persist in heading the opposite way then we want to go. Is this indicative of what is to come? Are you always going to seek to be contrary? I realize the sun is in your eyes, but if you don’t keep your sunglasses (sassies) on then it will be at some point on our walk. It is really cute the way you emulate Winny on our walks, albeit a little gross when you get down on all fours next to her and sniff the grass like she does. I know what she is sniffing and would really rather you not sniff it as well. You are very demanding with Winny and scream at her nearly the entire walk, “Winny stop! Winny heel! Winny come! Winny no!” I don’t really yell at her *that* much, do I? Poor dog.
We are truly impressed with your reading skills. Last night you sat down and read the entire “Brown Bear, Brown Bear” book to daddy and I. Today you did it for grandma on the webcam. We beamed the entire time. You love books and some of your favorites right now are your Trucks book, the Air and Space book I brought you back from the Smithsonian last year, Goodnight Moon, the Ernie potty book (and Bert REALLY does go on the potty).
You really like movies and have gone back to the old Nemo standby. I tried pushing Brother Bear on you last weekend, but you got very mad when the bears weren’t on. You picked out the worst movie ever last weekend at Blockbuster. You get this from me, I tend to also pick out the worst movies ever. This one was called Stuart Little 3. I am quite positive you picked it out because there was a mouse on the cover. But really, it was horrible. Let’s not get that one again. You like Little Einsteins and enjoy singing along to the songs as well as Sesame Street (Cookie Monster and Ernie are your favorites). You have mastered the cookie monster voice.
Your closest friends are Cate and Atticus. You also like Jonathen, Liam, Soren and Sebastion from daycare. Ok here’s something you can explain to me… why do you eat everything under the sun at daycare, but are picky as can be at home? You are the apple of your teachers eyes. We hear stories about you that both crack us up and frighten us. Example, you pulled a little girl’s hair at school the other day. Your teacher got mad at you and told you not to do that and wouldn’t pick you up when you cried. You went to your former teacher, Miss Sufia, who was over with her class and told her you hurt yourself. She, of course, picked you up to snuggle. Cunning little boy, you are!
Speaking of owies. We need to discuss the little boy who cried wolf. Every five minutes you have a new owie. You have my klutziness… but it isn’t *that* severe. Just because mommy and daddy aren’t paying attention for a second, does not constitute an owie. And not every owie needs a Nemo band-aid. If every owie did, you would be a walking band-aid. We can’t afford that many band-aids.
You really enjoy water play, swimming, TumbleBus (where you do the zip line all by yourself) and any other activity that requires you to get up and move. Unfortunately the TumbleBus is not at my beck and call, and screaming for the bus at 7pm will not yield results.
You are being a little tease with us as far as counting and ABC’s goes. Your father and I have heard you count to 10 twice now. Perfectly. But when asked to count to 10, you tell us, three, eight, eight, eight. You perplex us. You have portions of your ABC’s, thanks mostly to Choo Choo Soul I am positive. Oh well, you are learning. Mommy is just jealous is all, I would say you will understand someday, but alas, you are a boy.
You truly have a magnetic personality. You draw people in, engage them and make them laugh. You have a knack for this, which confounds me. All I can say is that you did not get this from me. It frightens us a little as we see your personality develop. I worry of your trusting nature, your extreme outgoing nature and your tendencies to get that glimmer in your eye that reminds me so much of your grandma! Yes dear boy, you have been graced with grandma C’s personality! That means you will always be surrounded by friends, you will have an incredible knack for making people laugh and bringing people together. It also means you will throw a mean party (fear in mommy’s heart) and will pack for a blizzard in the middle of summer. Oh wait, maybe that is just a C family trait…
Happy Birthday Leif!
Love, Mommy
Two years ago today!
Two years ago today
Two years ago I had no idea what experiences were awaiting me as my life as a mom began. I had no idea how to take care of a newborn. I was nervous, excited and scared.
Two years ago was really just yesterday. I am still nervous, excited and scared. But you have taught me to trust my instinct, to go with my gut, and love with all my heart.
Two years ago you came into my life and apparently someone, somewhere decided I had not laughed enough in my life to date. You have made me laugh more in the last two years than I did the first 32.
Two years ago my level of worry started growing and continues to grow everyday as I try to hold you close to me and shelter you, yet at the same time let you experience the wonders of life.
Two years ago you made us a family.
Today, you are two my sweet boy! Today, we celebrate you!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Simplicity in my Wonder Woman underoos?
“Yours is a complex sign, and you can't be expected to process things the way that other, simpler signs do. Give yourself a little space to move. Your sense of wisdom demands more than surface solutions.”
Another horoscope. No, I don’t *really* buy into them… well all the time at least. I love this one though. It reminds me of a guy I dated in early college. I still am not sure how we got together, we weren’t at all alike. He annoyed me much of the time and I strived to change him into what I wanted. (Stupid girl) Finally I grew to realize there are plenty of fish in the sea and we weren’t right for each other and we parted ways.
Why this quote reminds me of him goes to his obsession with “simple folk”. He used to routinely say, “I like Jeff, he is a simple folk” or “I like Mary, she is a simple folk”. After hearing this in reference to nearly each of his friends, I finally questioned him, why did he term people “simple”, what makes a person “simple”, why was that good, was it a compliment to the person or would you be offended if someone termed you “simple”. Because I would be! His answer was frequently that simple people were “good” people, which I then would counter “does that mean that complex people are bad”. I didn’t want to lead a simple life. His obsession with leading a “simple life” was probably one of the things that finally divided us. I wanted to solve problems, live a big life, do fantastic things and live up to my potential as a human. (Yes, I was an idealistic college student at the time.) He wanted to make a living, make ends meet, play music and hang out with friends at music festivals. In his own words, he wanted to lead a simple life. I did not.
My mind may have changed a little as I have grown up. Maybe it is a shift in priorities. Maybe it is seeing life through the eyes of my child on a much more simplistic level. Maybe it is discovering that what really matters is friends and family and happiness, and not how many proposals I get out the door… Oh yeah, who am I kidding… what if getting 18 proposals out my door makes me happy? And it does matter… to me. But at this point in my life I find myself more and more striving for simplicity in life.
I tell myself (and my friends) that I am at a good point in my career. If I never got another promotion I would be ok with that. Apparently I am also very good at kidding myself. When it comes right down to it, I am a goat, I seek to climb. Even when I don’t seek it, I still climb. I am competitive, I like to hold my own and I want to be recognized for what I do. I have an inherent and undeniable drive and ambition. I want to be Wonder Woman. As an 8 year old little girl jumping off the couch in my underoos, I believed I was Wonder Woman. There are days when that belief never failed or fleeted. Days when I can still feel that silky polyester under my clothes.
So where does leading a simple life fit in with saving the world from villains? Are they mutually exclusive? Will I forever turn every small task into a huge project with many levels? Or someday, will I just be able to sit back, enjoy the music and have a glass of whatever? (I would really prefer wine though, and do you have a cabernet? Maybe a nice Washington Cab from the Red Mountain or Walla Walla AVA?)
Another horoscope. No, I don’t *really* buy into them… well all the time at least. I love this one though. It reminds me of a guy I dated in early college. I still am not sure how we got together, we weren’t at all alike. He annoyed me much of the time and I strived to change him into what I wanted. (Stupid girl) Finally I grew to realize there are plenty of fish in the sea and we weren’t right for each other and we parted ways.
Why this quote reminds me of him goes to his obsession with “simple folk”. He used to routinely say, “I like Jeff, he is a simple folk” or “I like Mary, she is a simple folk”. After hearing this in reference to nearly each of his friends, I finally questioned him, why did he term people “simple”, what makes a person “simple”, why was that good, was it a compliment to the person or would you be offended if someone termed you “simple”. Because I would be! His answer was frequently that simple people were “good” people, which I then would counter “does that mean that complex people are bad”. I didn’t want to lead a simple life. His obsession with leading a “simple life” was probably one of the things that finally divided us. I wanted to solve problems, live a big life, do fantastic things and live up to my potential as a human. (Yes, I was an idealistic college student at the time.) He wanted to make a living, make ends meet, play music and hang out with friends at music festivals. In his own words, he wanted to lead a simple life. I did not.
My mind may have changed a little as I have grown up. Maybe it is a shift in priorities. Maybe it is seeing life through the eyes of my child on a much more simplistic level. Maybe it is discovering that what really matters is friends and family and happiness, and not how many proposals I get out the door… Oh yeah, who am I kidding… what if getting 18 proposals out my door makes me happy? And it does matter… to me. But at this point in my life I find myself more and more striving for simplicity in life.
I tell myself (and my friends) that I am at a good point in my career. If I never got another promotion I would be ok with that. Apparently I am also very good at kidding myself. When it comes right down to it, I am a goat, I seek to climb. Even when I don’t seek it, I still climb. I am competitive, I like to hold my own and I want to be recognized for what I do. I have an inherent and undeniable drive and ambition. I want to be Wonder Woman. As an 8 year old little girl jumping off the couch in my underoos, I believed I was Wonder Woman. There are days when that belief never failed or fleeted. Days when I can still feel that silky polyester under my clothes.
So where does leading a simple life fit in with saving the world from villains? Are they mutually exclusive? Will I forever turn every small task into a huge project with many levels? Or someday, will I just be able to sit back, enjoy the music and have a glass of whatever? (I would really prefer wine though, and do you have a cabernet? Maybe a nice Washington Cab from the Red Mountain or Walla Walla AVA?)
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
On horoscopes and proposal writing
“Believe it or not, you're ready to take a risk. Actually, it's not even a risk -- you know the price of staying exactly where you are is just too much. Move toward what genuinely moves you. Don't stop 'til you get there.”
I read my horoscope late in the day today. Maybe it is good. Because had I read this beforehand I might have freaked out wondering what I was supposed to do. Now that the day is mostly over I can step back and high five myself. (Because there is nobody else in my office…)
I got an e-mail this morning saying that my company has decided to move on my big proposal to an external funding agent. It is a high risk, high payoff venture. I was paid earlier in the year to write this proposal, then contracts backed out and said no. The person (wuss) who funded me to write the proposal stood aside and said, “oh well”. My team lead was irate and vowed to at least use this as lessons learned and “look here we have a bright young scientist with a great idea and we are just shoving it aside”.
The biggest problem is that it does not fit with the overall mission of my department. It is a super idea, if I worked at a weapons lab. But I don’t. I get it, I need to focus my energies elsewhere, on our tasks and problems at hand. Oh a whim last week I sent it to a sector manager who raised a holy living stink with contracts and single handedly forced them to define, in writing, how exactly contracts would deal with proposals of this type. (While I sat aside beaming that he liked my idea and it got his attention enough to investigate why it could not go out the door.) Once this was done this morning I was assigned a contracts specialist to work with me in getting it out the door.
It is proposal time. I just sent another concept paper off. It is likely to crash and burn, but I did get special permission from a sector manager to put it in. So while they may laugh and scoff at my proposal, the sector manager’s signature does grace it. And I know for a fact that it has caught the eye of two other managers since they have inquired personally about it with the caveat that “well you know this really isn’t the appropriate outlet for this, but it is an intriguing concept” and “have you thought about submitting this to XXX organization?”.
I was told when I started here that you don’t let a proposal call go by without responding to it with something. This is my something to this call. Also among that list of rules is to never recycle a proposal or concept with the same org or call two year in a row, quick way to annoy the hell out of the reviewers and make them think you think they are stupid and forgetful. Advice was to give each proposal a 3-4 year rest between calls… give the reviewers time to forget and come at it with a fresh face. Given this turn around I need to start digging back into my proposals archive folders and see what is worthy of bringing back to the top.
I spent the morning brainstorming with one of my teams after our teleconference. We have been given a minimum $50K seed money for this coming year. This kills me since the proposal deadline is next week. If you don’t think a funding agent knows ahead of time what they are funding, think again. I am up to lead this project (yay!), now we just need a project. What are we going to do? An hour of brainstorming and I think we are all just sick of hearing each other’s voices.
I read my horoscope late in the day today. Maybe it is good. Because had I read this beforehand I might have freaked out wondering what I was supposed to do. Now that the day is mostly over I can step back and high five myself. (Because there is nobody else in my office…)
I got an e-mail this morning saying that my company has decided to move on my big proposal to an external funding agent. It is a high risk, high payoff venture. I was paid earlier in the year to write this proposal, then contracts backed out and said no. The person (wuss) who funded me to write the proposal stood aside and said, “oh well”. My team lead was irate and vowed to at least use this as lessons learned and “look here we have a bright young scientist with a great idea and we are just shoving it aside”.
The biggest problem is that it does not fit with the overall mission of my department. It is a super idea, if I worked at a weapons lab. But I don’t. I get it, I need to focus my energies elsewhere, on our tasks and problems at hand. Oh a whim last week I sent it to a sector manager who raised a holy living stink with contracts and single handedly forced them to define, in writing, how exactly contracts would deal with proposals of this type. (While I sat aside beaming that he liked my idea and it got his attention enough to investigate why it could not go out the door.) Once this was done this morning I was assigned a contracts specialist to work with me in getting it out the door.
It is proposal time. I just sent another concept paper off. It is likely to crash and burn, but I did get special permission from a sector manager to put it in. So while they may laugh and scoff at my proposal, the sector manager’s signature does grace it. And I know for a fact that it has caught the eye of two other managers since they have inquired personally about it with the caveat that “well you know this really isn’t the appropriate outlet for this, but it is an intriguing concept” and “have you thought about submitting this to XXX organization?”.
I was told when I started here that you don’t let a proposal call go by without responding to it with something. This is my something to this call. Also among that list of rules is to never recycle a proposal or concept with the same org or call two year in a row, quick way to annoy the hell out of the reviewers and make them think you think they are stupid and forgetful. Advice was to give each proposal a 3-4 year rest between calls… give the reviewers time to forget and come at it with a fresh face. Given this turn around I need to start digging back into my proposals archive folders and see what is worthy of bringing back to the top.
I spent the morning brainstorming with one of my teams after our teleconference. We have been given a minimum $50K seed money for this coming year. This kills me since the proposal deadline is next week. If you don’t think a funding agent knows ahead of time what they are funding, think again. I am up to lead this project (yay!), now we just need a project. What are we going to do? An hour of brainstorming and I think we are all just sick of hearing each other’s voices.
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