Head banging

When you are married to a jeweler, you get lots of jewelry for presents. It is great. No wait, it rocks! (No pun intended.) Husband has realized, that what also rocks, is taking your wife to a fabulous concert for her birthday. Huge rush. Wonderful feeling. We rocked!

Husband bought tickets to see Coldplay in Chicago at the United Center. Des Moines is too small for them to come here, and even though we think everyone should know who they are, many people don't. They would of course be living under a ROCK! In his quest to surprise me, he had to find a location that would be drivable distance, a place where we could find childcare for the two babies (one that is still on the breast) and then somewhere for us to rest our heads. We wouldn't have been able to afford the tickets plus a hotel. Chicago won, and it worked out great because we got to see family while we were there.

So if I couldn't have been more excited than when the new Coldplay album dropped on June17th, and I had been listening to the album on through some Internet website that had a release the week before...nothing could have prepared me for the moment I figured out that Husband was in deed bidding on tickets for another Coldplay concert! He took me for my birthday, the week after he proposed in September 2005, and it was by far the best birthday present in my history. Every piece of jewelry has always come with the "It still isn't as good as Coldplay," and I would try to convey to him how much I totally loved the piece of jewelry, but it could not compare to a Coldplay concert because it wasn't Coldplay. It was comparing apples to oranges.

(If no one understands my extreme enthusiasm for this band, let me liken it to the crazy wigs who wait outside of Barnes & Noble when a new Harry Potter book was released. Now of course I am not going to dress like Chris Martin, nor will I get a tattoo on my hand like Chris Martin, nor will I name my daughter Apple Martin, but I do love this group and I have been following them since Thanksgiving of 2000.)

Husband and I were like crazy teenagers driving in to a "questionable" part of Chicago to see one of our favorite bands perform and we had tickets on the floor in row 13. I couldn't have been more excited! The ticket said that the show started at 7:30, and we were so worried about not being there in time with the traffic and the parking, and then waiting in line for our tickets at will call. When we got into the stadium, very few people were sitting in their seats, and even fewer people were actually in the stadium! We were so excited we could hardly contain ourselves. It was very difficult for two parents of a 17 month old and an almost 4 month old who were not jailbirds from the confines of parenthood to contain their excitement. We waited.

We sat through a strange techno performance and then a terrible opening act, watching the clock to count down the minutes until they were scheduled to come on. We waited while people stepped over our seats, drenched in smoke, carrying cups of beer to their seats and then back up again for another round of beer that probably cost $10 per cup. We had been warned about this "questionable" neighborhood in Chicago, in fact our relatives had put the fear of the ghetto in our bodies, so we weren't talking to each other, and barely looking at anything except the stage waiting for any trace of a band member taking those first steps out to perform our favorite songs.

When they came out, I started to scream and yell and clap my hands for the first time out of 10,000 claps. The stadium was dark, and then the notes for the first song rang out, and I had goose bumps all over and shivers up and down my spine. I looked at husband and he was also screaming and excited. The tickets were worth every penny, and the show was amazing. They played all of my favorite songs, and they are such a good live performance, I couldn't come down off of this musical high. I felt 10 years younger, rocking out in my own little section of the stadium that was very well paid for and belted out the words to each song, stomping my feet and waving my arms in the air. The ear plugs we had used on the opening band were stuffed deep into my pockets, and I soaked in every beat and every melody they performed for me.

This present will be a hard act for husband to beat anytime in the near future. He will just have to wait until the next album release and the next tour. By that time our babies will have grown, and we will (most likely) have the funds to see them wherever we want. Let's just hope they keep on writing music and sending it out to us. Truly a great band, and I might as well just commit and say, my favorite.

Babies are a changin'

They are growing like weeds! I am glad that they are growing. It means that I am actually doing something right! It gives me great pride, that in some sick and twisted way, I am able to produce food for my offspring, and then in turn they poop and grow and poop some more. As sick as it sounds, and as sick as it is, when changing my Sweet Bean's diaper, I am looking at food that I ate.

We move along through life's daily trials, standing in conflict most days. We are elated that the Prince is enjoying a Newman O cookie, and so excited with his smiles that we don't care if his clothes are dirty. Honest! The conflict arises when we discover gooey bits of cookie smashed into the screen door, because he was beating the screen with excitement at seeing his Poppa grilling outside. It is so cute, yet it is so messy. Do we scream, "NO stop it you are ruining our house!" when are hearts are bursting with joy at his excitement seeing his father?


The same thing happens when my Sweet Bean is smiling and laughing at me. As her mother, my heart again is bursting as I fall in love with her sweet smile and even though many authorities say that it is just gas, I have my fingers crossed hoping that she knows me and is happy to look at my face.
Again I am caught in the joy that I feel when she lets out a huge sailor belch, but annoyed and disgusted when she plants a huge bird poop stain of baby barf on my shoulder. She has become quite an expert at dodging the burp cloth and is able to shoot the barf just at the edge of the burp cloth with extreme precision. I am changing my clothes more than her!

I continue to make enemies all around my city with my public breastfeeding. When trying to explain this to people, I think people shudder at the idea it brings to your mind of a full shot of a naked breast in public. Not the case. The biggest tip off is the screaming child, and the mother wrestling with nursing bras, nursing shirts or non nursing shirts and then the gurgling of the baby settling down and swallowing all of this milk. Once she is in place, many people don't even realize my covert operation since I am draped, modestly, with a blanket and maybe checking on her from time to time. It isn't any more or less obvious than someone fighting with a bag of plastic utensils that they can't get open in order to dig into their meal, but I have heard all of the arguments on the other side of the fence so I do try to be sympathetic to those who are offended or annoyed. Is it more annoying to hear a screaming baby or to witness breastfeeding?

We are also making enemies in the medical community by challenging the vaccine schedule that most parents and doctors follow. I am annoyed by the doctor who treats us like 12 year olds when we are looking for the best way to raise and take care of our children. We make enough money to afford the children that we have, and we have brains enough to look at alternative medicine for ourselves and our children. I want to bring a squirt gun to the doctor's office next time, and when we get in this debate just whip out my fluorescent green and orange water bazooka and just drench the guy as we are packing up the kids and running out of his office to the safety of our house. If we just never leave our house, then we wouldn't get germs or have to be bombarded with everyone telling us how to raise our children. "Lay them on their backs, or they might DIE! Give them the chickenpox vaccine or they might DIE! Stop breastfeeding them when they are 1 year old because you no longer can support them nutritionally and they might DIE!" I'm ready to move to Greenland! Halcyon take me away!

We ARE Crazy!

As if my first year of marriage + one baby wasn't a big enough sign as to how time flies when you are having babies, this almost second year of marriage + baby number two is now a lesson in your life at warp speed. My last post was a couple of months ago, but it has been quite difficult to blog when I have so many other things such as push out another baby.

Our Princess was born April 4th, and according to her mother she was right on time. We had some complications with the birth, and she had us all very scared for a couple of days. My idyllic birth story will have to wait for another baby, or will never be since I didn't follow some of my main objectives during the labor and delivery. She is here, and I am wearing my old jeans so I should be thankful for that!

Our nights and days have been hit or miss. She can be a perfect angel, but turn into a furious cat screeching and clawing away at me or anything else in her path. These photos are a week old, but I like to call this Dr. Jekyll vs. Miss Hyde:





The Prince has taken to his sister in fabulous ways, but there have been some tantrums for Momma's attention. We have been back on our "schedule" which I love and hate in the same breathe. Our lives are much more peaceful when we have uninterrupted naps, the foods that we like for our meals, and we stay at our house to play with our toys. The yard is our new favorite spot, and Husband is planning to purchase a slide tonight as an added attraction.

He is at such a fun age right now and on the brink of some words other than "Ma-ma-ma-ma...." and "Da-da-da-da-dahhhh!" I was very close to hearing a "ball" this morning while playing with the baby soccer ball (a gift from the Eastern Kingdom) and so I immediately started chanting "ball! ball! Can you say ball?" He was very excited that I was trying to say the same thing that he was saying, but then slipped on the duck blanket and smashed his fore head on the floor. It was tragic, but the other bumps were almost all healed so we needed a fresh one. He is such a charmer! We have such fun together! (Here at a wedding, just had a diaper changed, and this one happened to be really funny!)

We have been trying our hands at gardening with some success and other trials. Our tulip crop is quite pretty this year, and Husband planted some pots as well as a cutting garden in the back yard (another gift from the Eastern Kingdom).




So husband has had a rough month. A crazy wife, a baby in the hospital, trying to get the yard under control, and working can drive a man insane! He was trying to prove something to me, but I figured that he still had to much time on his hands if he had time to play with his beard. It is really all about the beard. To have a beard or not to have a beard, that is always the question. If he has the beard he is pulling it out, making bald patches under his chin. If he doesn't have the beard, he feels that people don't take him seriously because he looks "too young" so then it is necessary to grow the beard out. So on Monday, he didn't have enough things to do. He was bored as I was juggling babies and bead stringing, cooking, cleaning and trying not to stink myself! He wanted to play with his beard. I was not amused when he came out of hiding, giggling and talking in his best Southern accent..."Can I help ya, Mam? Come give me a big kiss. Ya know you want a big kiss."



Actually, "Get away from me you sex offender! You are going to scare the children! Shave that thing off!!" He said, "Oh I can't do that, Mam." I said, "OK, we need food for dinner. Get in the car and go and get the food on the list...." He shaved the rest off. He is a good man. To redeem himself, here is the last snippet from our world: Husband doing baby duty with the Princess. Brutus didn't want to be left out, so he had some snuggle time with Husband too.

Ming's Beef

Ohh I have a craving! A terrible craving this very moment. I want to eat Ming's Beef. Not just a bite, not just a taste...I want an entire plate of it all to myself. The very thinly sliced beef, the bamboo shoots, all of the delicious and transparent onions, mushrooms and cellophane noodles all oozy with the fabulous sauce. Oh my.

There are people who love food, and there are people who eat food to survive. I have finally understood that people who only eat food to survive actually exist. Being a true food lover, I never realized that there were two types of people in the way of food. I just always assumed that everyone loved food just like me. Most people in my family love food, and I finally found a man to marry who also loves food. The very strange thing is that you can actually grow up in a family with food lovers and non food lovers. I would think that it would be difficult to raise a child to understand food only as fuel, if you were indeed a true food lover, as would it also seem strange to have a child who loves food when you are not a food lover.

This time of year that we have just passed through known to many as the "holiday season" exposes those who are not true food lovers. The best way to uncover this, is to spend a holiday meal with a non-food lover when you are a food lover. The food that this non-food lover makes...is not up to par with the food that a food lover would prepare for a magnificent feast that food lovers know come once a year. There is great detail and preparation put into the menu. Fine selections are made for the "best" produce, meat, cheeses, wine, and dessert that can be made. The presentation and and preparation must be perfect. Any food that is burnt or ugly, just isn't ready for a holiday spread.

If there is a food lover who wants to cook things, and understands the importance of cooking amazing "feast" food, then let the non food lovers stand by and drink their drinks. Let them waste their counted calories on glass after glass of wine, but step aside for those of us who want to be rolled away from the table with our palettes completely satiated with the true holiday feasting ritual that only comes once a year.

Experiment: Failed

I am hear to post the results of my phone fast: failed.

Progress of experiment: Failure was detected on the second day of experimentation.

Overview: I am too dependent on staying in touch with family, friends, and the pediatrician's office.

Overview: If I can recollect, I have only had one science project started during my entire life. I believe I was in 7th grade, and the time to start experiments and science projects began. I decided to plant beans in foam coffee cups, and determine what outside elements would impact their growth. This took place on a card table in the foyer of our house, and they stunk! I remember my dad complaining about the stench, and my brothers kicking a few soccer balls towards the table and yes they fell. That experiment failed as well. Too much water, not enough sun. I don't think my control group even sprouted.

The phone fast was very similar. I posted my blog, and emailed it to the people that I converse with the most on the phone. My youngest brother, called me immediately. He was confused. We work together via satellite connections, but email would not suit him. He would call and start to leave a message on my machine "this is work related." I would answer, and it was never work related. I screened all of my phone calls for the first couple of days, but I found myself in isolation, since the emails that I was sending to the outside world were not returned from the recipients.

My family was the worst to work with. They have not made the quantum leap to the 21st century where email communication could be used by everyone. People would be allowed to respond when they have the chance to read their email, and be as brief or lengthy as they choose. The recipient of this email, would in turn, be able to read the text at their own time and respond accordingly. When I sent an email, I would get a phone call to talk about it. The point was lost. I have grandparents who do not have email so that was impossible unless with a posted letter. They write thank you notes for a living, so a phone call would be much more fun and less taxing on their hands than a long letter written.

I did cut down/back on my time on the phone, except in regards to my husband. We increased in that department. I was out of town for 10 days during my experiment, so that meant that we didn't see each other. The email or instant messaging is a thing of the past with network to network free calling on our cell phone plan. We also talked over computer cameras, and that seemed to help, but left very little privacy. We could type simultaneously on a instant message during our video, and we thought that we could say things so that we were the only ones reading the notes. Technical glitches proved that our conversation was being read on two other computers in two different locations. Quite embarrassing.

For people I did not inform of my phone fast, they might call and leave a message, and I would need to return that phone call pertaining to social arrangements or information requested. Instead of explaining my crazy idea of a phone fast, I would return the call and sometimes get trapped in a long conversation. I have enough people thinking that I am crazy, who don't know me intimately, so those who are in the outer realm didn't need any more ammunition for their craziness assessments.

Conclusion:
I need to be in control of my outgoing calls, and the length of my incoming calls. Spending an hour on the telephone with someone is outrageous and uncalled for. Unless that person is an extended relation or friend whom one has not heard from in a long time and it might take an hour to talk. Where distance and geography suspend those relationships, it is entirely acceptable to spend time on the phone. However, daily check-ups with people, unless there are new developments in someone's failing health, plans that must be made, or emergency situations have been cut down. For that I feel that I have learned from this experiment, however, I would conclude that failure to fast was the failure of the experiment.

40 Day Fast from the Phone

The time that I spend on the phone is...embarrassingly...to much. My day is constantly interrupted by phone calls that I have found an addicted. I am loosing some major priorities in my everyday life, because I am addicted to the phone. Just so that we are clear on what an addiction is, I bugged Webster for the definition. addiction: compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol) characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal; broadly : persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful


I confess that I get bored, and I want to talk to someone. I feel lonely other times and just want to hear another person's voice to respond to and begin the volley of question, answer, comment, answer and so on. I enjoy language and I also wonder what people think about different things. Sometimes I need a bit of advice from my mother regarding my son, or a question during a culinary crisis would maybe save the dish from disaster.

Cell phones have become the ultimate crutch in many people's life, and especially my own. In theory, a cell phone can be a life saver if there is trouble with an automobile on the road or you are lost and need directions. Unfortunately, it has made me less prompt or back out of plans at the very last minute. If I am late to something, people start calling to find out if I am ok, or if I am ever going to show up. I then stop and answer the phone which continues to make me more late or an unsafe driver as I am searching for my phone. I shouldn't talk on the phone while I am driving. I can pay better attention to the road if I am not talking on a phone, and look out for careless drivers who are still on their phones while driving.

After analyzing this ideas for a couple of hours, but talking about it for weeks, I feel that it is necessary for me to have a fast from the phone. Biblically, fasting to encourage a strong point can go on for 40 days. Considering that this fast is not from food, I think that 40 days probably isn't long enough! During this fast, I do not plan to eliminate communication from friends and loved ones, but to channel that communication into mail or e-mail. I do feel that my use of the phone could possible be the persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful.

I hope to accomplish more things in my daily schedule without minutes being spent on the phone hashing out the daily drama of life. If something can't be put in a letter or e-mail it shouldn't be said. Activities and plans should have advance warning, planning, and foresight and a letter or email should allow enough time before the activity or engagement. During the past week, I have been maligned by gossip and hearsay. Conversations that I felt were understood to be in confidence were made public by an unfeeling and manipulative individual. The damage that has been caused from the fall out of this telephone conversation has forced me to rearrange my priorities and value my time well spent in other areas.

Letter writing in our society has become a thing of the past. I am sure that people wrote and received letters that were nasty or hurtful. Ultimately, if someone has penned with their own hand cruelties towards another person, at least there is a paper trail to prove liars and to prove truth as well. Letter writing used to be one of my favorite pastimes, and I am hoping to revive many of those by spending no time on the phone.

So to "talk" I will be dusting off all of my stationary, and buying a book of stamps. It can't cost more than a long distance phone call, and yet what price can be placed on the safety and kindness of words that can only be sent in an envelope?

Do I even exist?

I have never thought of myself as needing a great deal of attention. I would say that even now-as I blog- I don't think that very many people will actually read my blog, and I don't mind that. I am perfectly content to sit and read a book or knit without a conversation going back and forth, and I would have to say for the most part, I would rather be a wall flower than the MC.

With my little Prince in tow, it is easy to take a back seat and let him be the star of his life and now the star of my life as well. Everyone is so excited to see him because he is a baby, and babies draw attention. When people think that a man trying to pick up women could use a puppy as an accessory, they understand the draw that people have to things out of the ordinary. Babies are not all around us, even though we all had to start out as a baby. Our world is very adult oriented with restaurants or driving down the street. Many places advertise a children's section, like a library or a McDonald's play area. Companies have designated these special areas for children, because we do live in an adult world.

I can't go anywhere without someone commenting on my baby as if he were an amazing piece of jewelry or funky shoes that no one has ever seen. He is now about the size of a large purse, and sits right on my hip, so the words "duffle bag baby" have crossed my lips. He is animated and makes noises at people which draws attention. I am getting used to it, but I haven't decided if I like the attention that I get because everyone is looking at my baby.

I have decided that I miss the social interaction that I get from people who I do know. Talking is the main thing. Unless I am on the phone with someone, I really don't have any one's full attention. They want to see what the baby is doing. Oh look at what he is doing! Of course he is doing things, what do you expect?! Husband and I cease to exist because nothing can be as important as the baby...and that is right, but our lives do make up other angles. As busy as I am taking care of the baby, there are fewer and fewer things to talk about, but it is annoying when telling a story or trying to make conversation and no one is paying attention to the boring parent.

I have decided that we should just drop the baby off where ever there are people who want to visit with him, and then Husband and I can go off and do something more productive. Sitting around like a bunch of cattle while everyone coos and coddles the baby mostly make me want to barf. I should be excited at everyone's enthusiasm, but having a baby can really make you lose a sense of self. I completely understand the femi-nazi attitude about losing your own identity in the shuffle of a new addition to your family. It can only get worse as the family grows and there is less to talk about politics and books, and more to talk about potty training and soccer goals. Do parents bring this on themselves? or is it the identity theif that takes the form of a doting grandparent, friend, or complete stranger?