Where does it go?

The time I mean. It seems to melt away.
Last weekend was super-busy, with the Children's Festival, then a buddy's skate party (yes, skating, as in a skating rink, like we did all the time back-in-the-day), the volunteering, and Father's Day Pie quasi-fail.

A friend of mine says that when we fall ill, it's god's way of telling us "sit down".

Okay I'm sitting. Rather, I'm flat out on my back calling for reinforcements.

A brutal cold virus just walloped us this week. Probable epidemiological epicenter of Miss Monkey. The bug spread quickly to me and immediately to The Man. We're on approximately a 1 day delay from each other. It began with sneezes and a bit of sinus issue, escalated to full scale earache extending into my cheek & jaw bones, teeth, and ended rather quietly with a 100+ degree fever punctuated with cruddy coughs that have tapered to bouts of dry hacking. At least it was fast.

I actually felt ill enough one day this week to turn on the television, PBS, and just let it run until well after lunch ([sarc] don't tell CPS, k?). Last night I acted human heating pad for Baby E's luxurious slumber---at least, until My Loving Husband picked her up and said, "my, god, Ada, take something for your fever!" I am notorious for "toughing it out" a.k.a. "suffering". Besides, usually the fever breaks before a reducer would take full effect. Yesterday, though, I'm pretty sure I had a fever for hours before I took anything, and then mainly to sleep comfortably. And sleep I did, so hard that I didn't wake immediately in order to nurse.

Baby Girl has seemingly escaped the rest of her family's fate. Wonder-Milk Super-Power! Form of Antibody, shape of Breast!

All About My Man

We met in 2003 at a coffee shop. I was playing "wing (wo)man" for a friend and her Match.com date. You know, she needed an "out" in case he was creepy. There was this guy sitting at the bar with really nice arms n' shoulders, baseball cap pulled down too low to see his eyes. He drank coffee and smoked Camels. I bummed a smoke off of him, he'll say I did something untoward to get his attention—I didn't. 'Cause I had seen him move to the place I was sitting, and we smiled at each other as I was driving away, there was some deliberation at a stop light. I went back. After talking about patience, I told every silly joke I know and he knew them all. We ate Pho and saw a movie, then in very cliché fashion stayed up all night talking.

He pursued me to a degree that made me more nervous than his mere presence.

Instead of moving to Kaua'I as I had planned, I ran off to Costa Rica with him. We drove through Mexico, Matamoros to Tapachula, then took a TicaBus to San Jose. Ask us about it sometime, we'll tell you all about it. I wouldn't trade a second.

We assessed immediately where we stood spiritually, and serendipitous coincidence we agree in that realm. Since we're both raised in Texas there's already an understanding for right and wrong, Honor and Truth, manners and social protocol.

He wanted me to sit next to him in the booths we frequented, instead of across. He ordered my food for me, and he'll send it back for me if he sees I am dissatisfied.

Someone once asked me what made me decide to have kids…"He just smells so good." Originally he was the first to bring up the subject of babies, I was reluctant. I came around though.

I met my match. The man that can argue with me. He can be silly and intelligent. He makes me laugh and generally knows how to de-fuse a rampaging Ada.

No matter how mad I get, or how mad he gets, we both know we love each other. We both know also that we are inextricably linked now—if there was no going back before, there is certainly no end now.

Like an Uber Man, he's masculine enough to handle being at an all mommy birthday party.

He's goofy, tho' one mightn't know it to look at him. I've seen him do cheers.

He's a parrot, an uncanny ability to repeat almost verbatim information he finds fascinating or pertinent to modern situations.

He's physically imposing, a wonderful specimen of man.

He can fix things. Nothing sexier than seeing him with his "bags" on doing carpentry work, whether it's building stretchers for his paintings or a fence. He hates plumbing, but he'll do it when he has to. It's especially nice watching a Papa build a birdhouse with his daughter.

He's a label-whore…no really, ask him about fashion, he'll tell you himself. Well, maybe he will.

He officially became a daddy on 4 May 2006, I knew he'd make a good one too. Every time I saw small children around him, they were oddly transfixed by him.

His daddy-ness was apparent the first time Little Girl smiled at him. Watching her run to him in excitement with his simple arrival home…I relish that my daughters have a really great Papa.

We've known each other long enough now to have heard a lot of our stories twice.

The Man is a self-professed "delicate flower" and not one person at first blush would guess it's true.

He doesn't mind my pregnant-head, my nursing nods, or my mom brain…how my stories sometimes don't connect or make sense. He doesn't mind my cookie fails, or my pie- soup.

We keep making new stories together. We play off each other in social settings, making a fairly decent impromptu comedy team.

He has done his level best to keep us afloat under financial duress. He works hard enabling me to stay home full time being my best Mama-ness. At the same time he understands when I need time for myself.

He is the father of my children, I do love him so.

Happy Father's Day, Gary, I love you!

Screamin' Baby Fail

I can't find anything to wear when there's a baby crying.
I can barely speak when there's a baby crying.
I can't brush my hair or my teeth when there's a baby crying.
I also can't cook when there's a baby crying. Epic salmon-cake fail this evening, but The Man swooped in and saved the day.

And cry she does...turning to Anger-Baby newborn fists-clenched purpley-red faced screaming when things don't go as she expects. And yes, Her Highness has expectations already.

The thing about babies is, they don't give a flying blue fart about any one else at all. We have babies, little human type creatures that are examples of what we would be like were we to act entirely on instinct as utter hedonists 24-7. Then it's our job as parents to civilize them in stages as they grow. First they're tiny neanderthals, grunting and signing, toddling and banging, exploring and demanding. Once the motor skills are mostly mastered then comes the (attempted) mastery of feeeelings...which only works if the adults involved have mastered their own feelings. Because if we don't deal with our feelings, our feelings will deal with us.

And I'm feeling t-i-r-E-d. Biddy Baby is on a shorter sleep/eat schedule the later half of the night, it's not working for me. This too shall pass though, that lovely night will soon come when a 5 to 6 hour sleep will occur---and I'll awake sometime in the middle wondering why she's not awake.

On another note, we've taken steps in selling items to thin out our personal inventory. Rather than sit in some weird denial of reality, letting frightening to-do lists extend to the horizon, we're taking action as we can at the moment.

Spit n' swim

My swimmin' Monkey has a habit of spitting when she emerges from a swim n' dive. Certainly a bit more difficult to catch her little arm and look slightly away to avoid a face full of PBBBB! when she bobs back up. Constant reminders for her to blow bubbles underwater to best avoid the spray---seems to think it's funny.

She enjoys trapping Porter-kitty in various places as well. Most recently after hearing muted repetitive kitty noises, we discovered him inside an end table...locked and barricaded with pillows. Porter has also been buckled into the resurrected high-chair, for check-ups with Dr. Miss Monkey and her early morning antics. One would think that after being trapped in her dress-up box for an inordinate amount of time one day, that cat would have learned his lesson. To his feline credit he is more than a little patient with her, and yet she is still surprised, feelings hurt, when he finally loses his kitty temper and unleashes on her. It's actually a very feline interaction, adult cat batting down that more rambunctious kitten when he/she gets out of hand.

The other spitter in the house really can't help it, as she's only just learning how to eat. Baby E has been a good sleeper when she's sleeping. Most of this first month she's been rather easy. Comparatively though, since I can barely remember any details from the Firstborn's iddy-biddy days, I'm at a loss. Some days baby girl is easy as pie, others however, are, well, not pie but more like a razor-filled cream puff.

A baby's cry is a special thing. It can make people truly crazy. I can take about 10 minutes of crying, if I'm fed and not too too tired. Getting on a bit longer though and my shoulders begin to tense, my teeth set on edge. A crying baby will 'cause me to be in the closet shrieking like a banshee that "I've not a gottdam thing to wear!" The Man swears she was awake when he moved her around. All I know is she was sleeping before he left. Then, finally in the car, my sweet big girl, gives me a hug as I'm buckling her in, "A hug solves everything, Mama."

Baby cries are insane-making for a reason, really causing in humans a reaction to take care of that baby! Makes perfect sense from a species survival standpoint. The thing is, when there's a tiny hedonistic creature crying in one's arms, it's hard not to take it personally. This also makes sense to me 'cause I'm the end-all be-all of existence for this little creature...and as the premiere care-taker it'll get pretty personal if I let it. But it's not personal, babies are non-discriminatory criers. They will scream their sweet cheeks blue for anyone within earshot.

Then there's the flip side, the iddy baby gurgle and coo combo. Tiny yawning stretches, sneezes, coughs, and E's ruthless hiccups that will take on a likeness to barking when really intense.

Oh, the baby love---and the big sister love. Miss F has been truly stellar in her adjustment, has even taken to skipping the diaper/training pants at night. Keeping her bed dry for several nights at a time. Way to go kiddo! Today she was "graduated" to the K-1 room at Mile Hi, a step I was ill prepared for. I kept asking The Man, "really? they said she was old enough? did she have any problems with it? did she enjoy it?"

They just keep growing. Makes it easy for me to keep in mind that soon enough Baby E won't want to sleep on me at all, and will barely stay in my lap wanting to follow big sister. I will remember to enjoy this sweet snugly person while I can. Oh, and by far the best feeling so far is having both of them curling up with me at the same time. I made TWO of them! How NEAT!

"The world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles…only by a spiritual journey…by which we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home."

---Wendell Berry

While in California, participating in a party game some sort, I was gifted a frame that said, "Bloom where you are planted." A mentor recently used the same phrase during our phone conversation. I believe we have bloomed here in Colorado. We have a community of friends and acquaintances here. Real people with mature relationships for the first time in my adult life. So, my intention is that we should stay here and tough it out. I will not sit in a state of paralyzed fear, letting things slip because I'm too worried about how much there is to do, how it'll get done, or what will happen next. Starting over from scratch here or anywhere else will feel the same. The feeling of self-will that would propel us away from here is familiar. It's difficult to distinguish between "heart felt" Ego and the true heart's desire. Because Ego is tricky it will resort to anything in order to remain in control (rather the illusion of control, no?), and to keep up the tension of drama it survives on. Moving is very stressful, very dramatic, and doesn't necessarily solve anything. There are people here willing and ready to help us, opening their homes enabling us to stay together while my husband works on a contract job he's recently connected. Texas is postponed, allowing for more connections to be made.

I once used geographic solutions regularly, albeit in a smallish area. I felt that once a lease was up, I was burnt in that area and really needed to leave. Or it wasn't perfect there, so I had to look for that perfection elsewhere. Moving around a lot doesn't allow friendships to develop to a mature level, and I know now that's what I was really avoiding. Once in a place where people began to know me rather well (or as well as I would allow) I felt pressure to get out while I still could, because I was utterly convinced that my friends wouldn't and couldn't accept me with my faults as well as my assets. I had to leave in order to preserve some legendary perfection that doesn't exist.

It's comical in a sad sort of way.

Here, we have all the things we could ask for, and yet the prosperity seems to have eluded us for the time being. Forcing me to ask: Which is more important, community & quality of life? Or money?