'Tis the Season

It's that time of year filled with joy, cheer, party overload and desperate attempts to bring the magic of the holiday season into sharp focus for toddlers everywhere, so long as they still believe.

After the season got off to a roll with a pre-holiday "just because" pancake party, it was off to the races with the first event: a holiday-concurrent birthday party. Which went something like this:

Hello All,

Just a quick reminder that there is a bit of a schedule. We are very excited to see everyone tomorrow!!

3:30-3:45—Greetings!

3:45-4:00—Dress up! Costumes passed out. (Tutu, wings, wand, halo—so have kids wear clothes that they can put the costume over).

4:00-4:15—Picture Time

4:30-5:00—Craft Time

5:00-5:30—Pizza, Salad, Cake, Cupcakes

I think the important thing to point out here is that the child in question was turning 3. I don't think I need to explain beyond that.

Next, was a holiday party at an indoor playground - complete with crafts, cookie decorating, bouncy house, obstacle course, temporary tattoos, face painting, magic show, parachute, and cupcakes.

Throw in some holiday baking (OK, a LOT of holiday baking), walks to admire the neighborhood lights, nighttime train rides to Santa's house, plans for Disneyland, Nutcracker recitals (too much? too soon?) figuring out Santa's list and endless scouring of Internet holiday event listings (amid self-flagellation for each missed event) and the pressure to make this magical season well, magical can get the best of any elf. Especially an elf who has yet to finish her Christmas shopping.

And then sometimes the favor is returned, a thousandfold. Tonight, as I put my girl to bed, after the obligatory sprinkling of magic dust AND powder, she reached under her covers and found some magic powder to scatter over me. It was the perfect, irreplaceable, unsolicited gift.

From the Bad Mommy Files - Why I Suck

Today is the day reserved for love, overpriced flowers and heart-shaped boxes of cheap chocolate. It is the day Hallmark and Jane Seymour have groomed us for, what with the heart-felt messages and hideous jewelry. I, however, will take this day to tell you how I suck - and not in the vampire-y Gothic, romantic kind of way so much as the falling short, massive fail variety.

It is no secret that Bree and I have given Valentine's day less than its due. After the first few years of obligatory gift exchanges and fancy meals, we called a spade a spade and quickly slid into non-celebratory complacency. And even our early February nuptials did little to up the romantic ante. Sure, I still called my parents on an annual basis, trained by the years of macaroni art, but all in all the big day of romantic overkill was lost on me.

You would think that having a child would have renewed my interest in a holiday based on pure love. That I would jump at the chance to shower Otter with tokens of my adoration. You would be unfortunately, and gravely, mistaken. And while Bree and I paid lip service to doing something in the days leading up to the day, once the 14th dawned we had given up on it.

Until Susana showed up - carrying a balloon, a hot pink monkey, and a bottle of wine - ostensibly for us. I was chastened. I was shamed. Not that I expected any less of our amazing nanny, I'd just expected a little more of me. But there was nothing to do except for tuck tail and flee to work.

Sad as the scene was, it wasn't the day's low. That came at around 2pm, when I made a mad dash to Walgreens to try to come up with a thoughtful gift for my only child. I was clearly late to the party, and as I perused the picked-over aisles, my shame burned a Valentine's Day-appropriate deep red. I slunk out with a blue Toy Story ball and 2 packs of sparkly stickers.

As if that weren't enough, I ended up staying late at work, not making it home until long after SB was in bed. As I fruitlessly tried to balance the the ball on the table, grateful for the fact that at 2 1/2 SB still has no concept that we screwed up, and with a commitment to do better next year.

12 Days of Xmas, Redux

A look back at this season, (set to music)....

On the last day of Christmas, my family gave to me...

Twelve trips to the mall...

Eleven (thousand) holiday cards....

Ten p.m. bed time (in spite of having another several thousand holiday cards to write)...

Nine hours of phone calls (with my mother, discussing presents)...

Eight second-guessed presents...

Seven bottles of booze...

consumed...

so far...

Six dozen presents wrapped...

Five (1/2) foot tree...

Four time I've nearly burst into tears at the mall...

Three holiday parties...

Two batches of cookies (I should be baking but I'm not)...

And a photo that's worth a 1000 words....

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Giving Thanks at 15 Months

Otter is 15 months today, an event we're celebrating as family joins us for an over-ambitious meal. So much has happened in the past 15 months.

We are thankful for our family, whom we love and who are close to us, some in person, others in spirit.

We are grateful for our friends, who comfort us when the aforementioned family drives us nuts.

We are thankful for every day that Otter sleeps until 7.

We are thankful for our nanny, who has magic.

We give thanks to our home, while asking humbly that the roof not leak to badly this winter.

We are overjoyed at our health.

We are grateful for all that we have seen, all the places we've been, and for the vivid memories of those things, which will hopefully sustain us for the next 16 1/2 years, until Otter goes off to college.

I, personally, am thankful for good food and good booze. Mostly good booze.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

All Saints Day

I've long been a fan of extended celebrations. Why should Halloween have only one night? So because it's one of our favorite holidays, and because Otter's 1st birthday party had been indefinitely postponed until it was silly to have it, we opted for a Halloween party.

Now we've had kids over before - usually one at a time. How hard could it be with a few more - especially if some of them don't even walk? And unlike our usual fests, where we kill ourselves We ordered pizza, bought trays of veggies and 5-layer dip. Susana made a cake.

Let me tell you - 7 babies is A LOT. Especially when they're screaming, bullying each other, running around like banshees in the back yard. Otter took it all in stride, making her exit to push her lion around the back yard when the action indoors got tad too intense for her.

Bree and I? We muscled through - barely seeing each other - until the last guests were gone and we fell asleep sitting up on the couch. Only 15 or 16 more of these, right?

All Hallow's Eve

After much deliberation, aborted plans, warnings about swine flu outbreaks passed around through candy wrappers (or something like that - I'm still not clear), we gathered child and dog and set off for the magical world of trick-or-treating.

Foster went as the Hound of the Baskervilles (minus the glowing-in-the-dark, since Bree wouldn't let me spray him) while Otter went as... an otter, of course.

Our journey followed the path of our usual dog walk, with bonus encounters with Yoda, some princesses, a few zombies and the occasional unidentifiably clad teen trolling for candy. Otter met trick-or-treating with equal shares confusion and curiosity. At the first house, after staring blankly at the piece of candy that had been handed to her, she offered it back. Can't say the girl doesn't like to share!

By the end of the block, she'd gotten the hang of it though. Not only was she reaching in and grabbing loot like a champ, she was actually going for the good stuff (mom thanks you for the extra Reece's Peanut Butter Cups you scored, baby)!

Our journey was short-lived. The weather was about 20 degrees north of autumnal, while the otter suit was designed to keep babies snug in sub-polar regions. So after hitting about 6 houses, a hot and slightly damp Otter was brought home and summarily deposited in the bath. And offered her very first Kit-Kat.

As she sat in the tub, chocolate smeared all over her slightly-dazed face, I had to laugh. "This is what ladies do," I told her. "Sit in the bath and eat bon-bons."

Was I teaching my girl to embrace gender stereotypes? Would she be bouncing off walls instead of drifting off to sleep? Who cares? It's Halloween!

Birthday Girl!

Don't you call her a baby! As of this morning, SB has officially become a toddler. Or is that a t'otter? Technically, she should have waited until 3:23 pm, but she's an impatient lass these days, and she wants it now, now, NOW!!!!

It's hard to believe that a year has gone by already. In fairness, I should say "It's hard to believe that the last 6 months have gone by already," as I was painfully aware that the first 6 months lasted about 3 years. So much has changed for all of us. So here, is a quick Then and Now look at where we were, and where we've come to:

8/26/08
Height: 19 inches
Weight: 6 pounds (or, 5 pounds, 16 ounces as the nurse put it)
Favorite Food: Booby Milk - girlfriend fed like a piranha
Sleep: Yes. Except for when she didn't, which was usually at night.
Favorite Word: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Favorite Sound: The kitchen vent set to high.
Movement: Minimal.
Us: Happy, overwhelmed, confused, frustrated. And tired.

8/26/09
Height: 29 1/4 inches
Weight: 17 pounds, 13 ounces
Favorite Food: Bananas. Acceptable at all times and in any consistency. Other acceptable foods include fried potatoes, bread, pancakes, Cheerios, scones, apple sauce, pears, tofu and Indian spiced dishes.
Sleep: All night and 2 naps. Except for when she's being a grown-up and only takes 1 nap.
Favorite Word: Doggie. And Mama (which, I suspect, means "I want. Give me.")
Favorite Sound: Foster (our pittie) bounding into a room.
Movement: Crawling, climbing, bouncing off pillows and the headboard, bopping, cruising.
Us: Happy, excited, much more confident, in love, occasionally frustrated. And very, very, very tired.

Happy, happy, happy birthday SB!

Independence Day

Otter let go with both hands for a split second while standing. She may be getting a second tooth. She tried scrambled eggs and kinda liked them. She's got another party to attend tomorrow.

Can Independence Day be far behind?

Father's Day

There's nothing like the love and devotion of a dad, and it's an important bond to nurture. So much so that Hallmark has decreed a holiday, to remind us of the gravity of the father-figure situation. No matter how dubious we find the whole observance to be, there's little we can do but step in line and pay homage.

(Which is not to imply that I undervalue the immense contribution, or make light of recognizing it, father of Otter, if you are actually reading my blog.) So with much ado, I set forth to commemorate Bree's first Dad's Day.

We brunched, we toasted, we opened gifts. In Otter's case, we ripped up wrapping paper and set off for a nap. We even got a call from my dad (who has long ago written off the whole FD sham as bunk) to congratulate Bree. "This is the most important Father's Day you'll ever have," said my dad sagely. 'Cause he knows.

"That's right," I jumped in. "I hope you're not expecting any of this crap next year..."

Ima Mama

This Sunday I celebrated my first official Mother's Day. Unlike last year, when I was simply a storage compartment, this time it's fo' real. Otter and I commemorated by donning what will be the closest we'll ever come to "Mommy & Me" outfits - matching t-shirts...

Congratulatory phone calls were exchanged, the appropriate people texted, and my Facebook status updated to reflect the glorious day of all thing mother. My FIL gifted me with flowers and extravagant praise. Bree, in a bid for super husband actually began the celebration early, with a card and half dozen Crumbs Cupcakes delivered to my work on Friday afternoon. I think Crumbs can be effectively used as enticement for sectors of the population where birthrates are falling off. I challenge my most child-phobic of friends to not get knocked up if the promise of these cupcakes were to be offered as a prize for birthing.

Indeed, the rewards for mothering are many. I know - you're thinking I'm referring to the mystery of a new life created, the satisfaction of nurturing a small being, the joy of seeing your Dear Child laughing with glee at the wondrous world around it. But being a literal lass, I'm actually talking about the shwag you get, be it of the pastry, floral or bejeweled variety. Childed friends everywhere were discussing their acquisitions - luggage, diamonds and electric toothbrushes.

My own Mother's Day began with homemade strawberry pancakes and mimosas and ended with scrubbing down the kitchen before collapsing on the couch for my unavoidable, late-night pumping session. All was as it should be.

A (Very) Belated Easter

Ok, so in terms of getting photos up, I've kinda sucked. But in my defence, we were battling swine flu. So here, much belated, are our Easter pics...

Easter morning...

Grand-Diggy arrives...

A basket, for me?

B-U-N-N-Y-!-!-!

I'll get you, yet, you Wascally Wabbit!

Yeah, I like Easter.

Valentine's Day Is For...

Kiddie parties.

Once, long ago, it used to be for lovers, but then those lovers decided to shack up, she got knocked up and, after birthing the rug-rat, they had no more viable excuses as to why they couldn't enjoy an afternoon at The Playroom with a bunch of squealing 2-year-olds.

Otter, now familiar with the party circuit, wasn't sweatin' it. She took a leisurely nap, cementing the fact that "1 hour late" is the new "on time". She puked copiously on her party outfit and the floor as soon as we walked through the front door of the place. Just to show us this was NO different than her usual routine. She tried to grab pizza crust out of my hand, though she'd have absolutely no idea what to do with it if she got it. She even got to ride a little bug-shaped trike with Bree pushing and me supporting while she grabbed madly for the handlebars. She also met her name counterpart, Griffin (though sadly, didn't get a photo with him).

Tired out from so much partying, we left an hour later and tried to put her down for a nap. It was a decided, rousing failure. On the upside, she did get a goodie bag the contents of which she'll be able to enjoy in 2 to 3 years.

Late at night (and by "late" I mean about 9pm), after Otter was tucked away in bed, I sat down to a dinner that Bree had made for me, followed by my V-day present - a ricotta cheesecake he'd baked. Admiring the tulips he got me and catching up on Tivo'd Grey's Anatomy, I realized that Valentine's Day might still be for lovers, a little bit.

Happy Anniversary!

Today is Bree's and my 5th wedding anniversary.  Otter offered her congratulations and gave us the gift of further baby development by sitting up unsupported, wobbling like crazy and toppling over 10 seconds later.  But it was a glorious 10 seconds.

We decided to celebrate by going out to dinner at a nice restaurant.  The kind with linen tablecloths, extensive wine lists and a zero-tolerance policy for babies.  To accomplish this wild night of adult dining, we asked Pat to babysit.  

I came up with a brilliant plan: the reservation would be made late so that I could go through Otter's routine, put her to bed, and Bree and I could sneak off and dine, SB none-the-wiser.  It started off well enough - Otter went down easily, Pat arrived and, after changing and even putting on some makeup, we were off to dinner.

The call came in at 10pm.  It appears that about 15 minutes after we left, Otter woke up only to discover that her mom and dad had inexplicably disappeared, replaced by a complete stranger (their previous meetings non-withstanding).  This turn of events made Otter decidedly unhappy - which she expressed loudly for the next 2 hours as Pat struggled to settle her down. Apparently, by this point, SB'd cried so hard that she'd thrown up, and she was looking for a change of clothes for her.

This marked the end of dinner.  Grabbing what we could in to go bags and abandoning a carafe of very good (and very expensive) wine, Bree and I raced home, breaking some speed limits, and possibly the sound barrier.

As we burst through the door we found Pat slumped in our armchair with a tearstained Otter passed out in her lap.  Hearing us come in, Otter opened her eyes, and with a look of immeasurable relief welcomed us home.  Pat, with a similar look, took off for her house before hell had a chance to break loose again.

Putting Otter to bed for the second time that night, I was once again struck by Pat's heroism in the face of inconsolable baby.  And how strangely appropriate this ending seems in light of our new life.  Happy Anniversary to us.

Taking Stock

We sit here, on the cusp of 2009 (hoping we'll make it to midnight) and looking back on the year nearly completely behind us. So here's where we've been and what we've seen.

We got the news that life would never be the same. We tried to get our last blast(s).

We were warned of dangers and complications. We learned to respectfully ignore instructions.

We wondered when life would return to normal. We redefined our idea of normal.

We were given the ultimate gift, and realized just how high the price for it could be.

We walked around, a lot. We slept much too little.

We realized that the costly kitchen remodel was totally worth it at 3am, when the new hood vent was the only thing that worked.

We laughed. We cried, too. A lot.

We learned to account for head clearance - a tad too late a couple of times.

We did more internet searches with the word "baby" than anyone thought possible.

We tried to keep our sense of humor, and sometimes even succeeded.

We waged wars, and mended broken dog hearts.

We traveled cross country, realizing that it was almost as hard as getting across town.

We wished we'd gone to massage school.

We were scared. And hopeful. And scared again. And hopeful again.

We understood how indescribable what we were doing really was.

We looked forward to the year ahead.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Merry Christmas!

This Christmas season has been weirdness to the nth degree.  People who should have shown up didn't, having gotten stranded due to weather.  People who weren't expected, came knocking on doors only to leave again before Christmas actually came.  But here is the long and the short of it, or rather, the long-winded story in Cliff Notes shorthand...

Otter went for a checkup and got more vaccines.  She also got weighed and is now 11 lbs., 8 1/2 oz. Though after 15 minutes of carrying her, she seems much, much heavier.

Bree's sister Erica drove in from Colorado unexpectedly with her husband and baby.  Bree didn't get to see them, but Otter did get to meet her cousin.

Bree's mom and step-dad, on the other hand, got stranded at the airport, had to spend the night, and then went home having never departed for LA.  When they got to their house, their power was out.

We spent Christmas Eve with Bree's sister Alicia.  Erica and fam had left by this point.

On the way to Christmas Eve...

Hangin' with Dad and Aunt Alicia...

Otter hung out with Frosty the Snowman.  She may be in love.

A letter to Santa was written, cookies were left.

Christmas Day - Otter made out like a BAN-dit.  Clothes, toys, more clothes, more toys.  A freakin' kick-ass ExcerSaucer.  Thank you Santa Tien!!!  

Somewhere in the mix, Bree and I exchanged our presents, he went off to pick up his dad and I crawled off to the couch to sleep.  

For the second year in a row, Santa brought me Christmas Flu.

Otter's Debut on the Party Circuit

As any Hollywood taste-maker will tell you, the "where" and "when" of a debut can mean the difference between having the paparazzi snapping your picture Paris Hilton-style and sitting alone in some dive with people surreptitiously pointing and whispering "God, how sad..."

To execute the proper stepping out requires careful planning, exceptional timing, surrounding yourself with the "right" people and creating the right amount of buzz. Stay out of the limelight for too long and no one will care when you do make an appearance. Party too often, and you're written off as a self-promoting hussy who would show up to an opening of an envelope.

And so, after much anticipation, Otter made her first appearance at Pat's Holiday Soiree.

Here is the report...

Ms. Otter and her entourage arrived tastefully early, and spent time circulating, meeting and greeting. Choosing to forgo the obvious cliches of Christmas-themed wardrobe, Ms. Otter wore a graphic tee and bib by Carter's and pants by Granimals.

Ms. O patiently visited with all her fans, posing for photo ops.

Sources report that she was seen in the company of a suitor, though her representatives insist that she remains unattached.

Avoiding the bad press that comes with partying too hard, the young lady exited early, for some much-needed shut-eye.

The 12 (eerr 11) Days of Christmas (Shopping)

I have fallen woefully behind updating, but changing sleeping habits and Christmas have been kicking our collective ass. So here, in a nutshell, are the highlights of December, so far...

Wednesday 12/10 - On the first day of Christmas shopping, Otter made her virgin trip to the mall. Granted, it was Cost Plus, which isn't a mall at all, and the Promenade, which is currently a ghost town and will likely soon cease to be a mall, but that's splitting hairs. The point is, we went to a mall and wandered around in a daze, picking up booze for everyone, and 3 boxes of greeting cards. The shopping excursion ended with me standing in the parking lot, desperately trying to disengage the car seat from the stroller, where it was inexplicably, and quite permanently stuck. I cursed the universe and wondered how long I was going to stand there before asking for help, then realizing there was no one to ask even if I wanted to. The Christmas season had officially begun.

Thursday 12/11 - We go to the "real" mall to get a picture with Santa. It's too much to expect Otter to actually smile, but Mrs. Claus does get her to at least look at the camera.

Friday 12/12 - We meet Tien at the "real" mall and are quite proud of ourselves for being only 10 minutes late. We end up at Target, wandering around aimlessly, once again looking for gifts and leaving with a stocking for Otter and a stocking hook for our fish, Hebert.

Saturday 12/13 - Otter declares her independence from swaddling in no uncertain terms. We're left standing around, wondering what comes after swaddling. That wasn't in the instruction manual...

Sunday 12/14 - Leaving Bree and Otter to the fates, I go back to the mall solo to get the bulk done. Four hours of my life are lost forever, and I despondently eat frozen yogurt on a mall bench. On my way out, I encounter a family of 12 from somewhere in south-east Asia who are under the impression that the Westfield Topanga Mall is a tourist destination. They chatter happily while blocking dozens of tired, cranky shoppers from the escalator, so that dad can snap photos of his jabbering clan. I want to kill them by swinging my overstuffed bags at them.

Bree calls me the Grinch.

Monday 12/15 - I spend the day printing endless photos of Otter with Santa, writing messages and licking envelopes. I realize we know entirely too many people.

Tuesday 12/16 - Announcing that she hates the half-swaddle (the bottom half) too, Otter refuses to sleep until 11:30 pm.

Wednesday 12/17 - Otter further announces a moratorium on napping. She will sleep for no longer than 20 minutes, and then only in my arms. If I so much as think about putting her down, she screams bloody murder. I respond by having a complete meltdown, call Bree, inform him that I hate Christmas, that life sucks and we don't even have a tree. In my defense, I should point out that it's been pouring rain and 40 degrees for the past 3 days and we've been locked inside the house with nothing but laundry and Christmas cards to amuse us.

Thursday 12/18 - Exhausted by the lack of sleep, Otter snoozes all day. I take a shower, catch my breath and send out the last batch of cards. I start wrapping presents, though we're still not done shopping. I continue whining that we won't have a tree for Otter's first Christmas.

At night, we realize that we've been putting her down too late and move up bed-time by an hour. We also decide to incorporate the Sleep Sack into our repertoire. This is a gift from the Sleep Gods and I bow down to them and offer them adulation.

Friday 12/19 - Laden with 8 packages, Otter and I head off to the post office. I take the stroller, not so much for Otter, but for the boxes that I'd otherwise be balancing in my arms. While I try to communicate with the automated mailing machine, which is asking me very difficult questions about content, shape and size of my packages, Otter makes friends with the line growing behind us.

As we're leaving, Santa Tien calls to tell me I can pick up the Exersaucer Otter's inheriting from her son. While there, we also score a kicky-standy-uppy toy. Santa Tien, you too deserve our worship and adoration.

But the biggest news of the day is the fabulous Dr. Phil Christmas Party that Bree and I are attending without the Otter. Yes, we've been away from her once in NY, but this is SB's first foray into the world of babysitters. We leave with the mix of emotions of a teenage boy going out on the town in Dad's car for the first time. There's the dizzy anticipation of freedom, the strangeness of something new, and the underlying fear that something will go terribly awry, and we will find ourselves wrapped around a lamp post. But all goes well, and when we return the Otter is sleeping blissfully while "Aunt" Pat knits away. Pat, you are a goddess.

Saturday, 12/20 - After weeks of my whining about our imminent lack of tree, and Bree's threats of a fake arbor (followed by more of my whining about how utterly lame it is for Otter's first tree to be plastic), I pushed Bree out the door to pick out our Christmas tree. Lost in a forest of trees, Bree came upon some chickens running amuck underfoot, and immediately called to tell us that he was coming back to get us. Back at the house, we got ready as quickly as we could and embarked on Otter's first tree-hunt. At the lot, she meets the local wildlife - some sheep, goats and roosters, whom she regards with some scepticism - and we depart with a very short but quite bushy evergreen.

Tree decorating and boozy eggnog with Grand-Diggy rounded off the day, and tonight, Otter drifted off sleep happily sleep-sacked and swaddle-less, perhaps dreaming of sheep.

Yes, the Christmas season is here.

Giving Thanks

After a week of cooking like the wind while Otter slept, and making several dishes twice (the potatoes 'cause we wanted more, the stuffing 'cause there was a dreadful salt incident) and completing an needlessly complicated tart, it was time to greet the family and settled down for our Thanksgiving meal.

The cousins kept a careful ear out for Otter while she napped, alerting me at the first hint of sound emanating from her room. It was touching to see them carry her around and play with her, volunteering to babysit. And the meal was none too shabby either.

The men carved the turkey...

While hope sprang eternal for Foster...

Otter snoozed while we ate...

Otter enjoyed some playtime with her cousins...

Then, Aunt Alicia and Bree posed with all their kids...

More playtime...

Before settling down with Uncle Jeremy and Grand-Diggy...

And passing out at night's end.

Halloween Update

For those of you waiting with bated breath to find out how Otter made out on Halloween, here, at long last are our pics...

Otter with Dad...

Otter with Mom... Note our family's festive attire.


Otter shows of her candy stash... Guess I'll have to eat it all so she can enjoy it...

Halloween

This is our absolute favorite holiday, so Happy Halloween everyone! We can only hope that SB embraces the festivities as much as we do.

Certainly, she did pose for the shot like a champ. Though we did get some judgemental looks from passers-by as we set the scene.

But we think it was well worth it!