I'd like to thank the academy...

Lookee what I got from Suebob!

If you get one, you're supposed to do this yourself, like a big chain-mail. But whatever, I won't get butt-hurt if you don't.

Okay, I'm just picking the blogs I read regularly, so I'm afraid it's going to be a big inbred love-fest.

1. I begin with Suzanne from Cussandotherrants.com, who I first met virtually (through my friend Althea), but have since had the pleasure to meet in person a number of times. If you think she's awesome online, you ought to meet the live version.

2. Young Miss SuperDes and I really hit it off when we met at BlogHer 07. I have the photobooth pictures to prove it. She's rad, and I miss being able to have funky hair like her.

3. I met the mysterious Alex Elliot at said BlogHer conference as well. She's a long-time friend of Suzanne's, and I can see why. She has even been super-supportive behind the scenes as I freaked out over breastfeeding, and I am forever grateful (even if I don't comment often, I read every post). I am also crazy impressed by her devotion to fitness and her recent adventures therein.

4. The giver of this fine award, miss Suebob. I feel exceptionally lucky to have met this blog-lebrity at BlogHer and found out in person what a kind and calming influence she is. I'd share another Indian meal with you anytime.

5. Beth. Beth's not a friend, exactly, since we've only met on like two occasions. But I read her blog religiously to hear about the latest adventures of Penny, and I'm so blown away by her ability to be a work-at-home mom (a lawyer, no less), and still get in her biking and picture-taking and dog-loving and marriage and everything else (seriously, sometimes it involves canning and bread-baking). We also have a funny connection -- I know of her because our parents worked together as deputy coroners many years ago.

6. One Weird Mother, who has been MomVoyage for a while. I really enjoy her perspective on her travels, on parenthood... I also was lucky enough to meet HER at BlogHer. Boy, that was a good conference...

7. Gynagirl, the aforementioned Althea. We've known one another since I was about 19, although we didn't become close friends until we lived together and then became band-mates in the greatest band ever, The Gynas.

8. This is my friend, whose name is sort of in transition. But this is the blog, and I really enjoy reading it. BayRadical. I believe Fiona is now a Felix, but when she was a Fiona, she was my close friend for several junior high and high school years.

9. GreenMom. I only wish she allowed comments, because I'd love to open up a dialogue with GreenMom (whose parents, incidentally, live down the street from me -- don't ask how I figured that out). She always posts interesting environmental parenting finds, mostly very consumer-y, but still useful.

10. Heckasac. I started reading her because of a link on Beth's blog and I find it fascinating (and strangely, I know or know of many of the regular commenters). HIghly unlikely that these last two will keep the award chain going, as I don't think they know I exist (which is just fine).

Hey Sweetie's friends...

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Meet your new GM. That's right, she's small and in charge. Back in MY gamer days, this photo wouldn't have been complete without obscene amounts of Mountain Dew and candy, but I know times have changed. Anyway, just thought this was super-cute.

And so was this:

Zadie has a friend!

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Okay, I got permission to blog this photo of our friends' baby, so I'm blogging about them, too.

In our childbirth class, there were a lot of couples. Something like 17, I think. There was the lady who always looked on the verge of tears. There was the couple with the matching flannel jackets. There was the woman who was artificially inseminated and brought a friend once and her mom once. There was the kindergarten teacher and her husband. There was the really heavy single woman who was a real know-it-all. And then there was the couple we sat next to at random on the second night and discovered we had a lot in common with. On our way to the car that night, we said "Let's try to sit next to K & D again." Before the class was over, we traded emails and all decided to go out to dinner once. I think we went in early March to Tres Hermanas, then we walked around and got cocoa at True Love.

Since we had the babies, K and I have been walking in the park for a little exercise and companionship. We all went to Tres Hermanas again recently and then to, you guessed it, True Love for cocoa. While there, the dads held the babies while we sat on the uncomfortably deep couch and admired the cuteness. Then K took this picture with D's iPhone. Cute, huh? So there's Liam and Zadie. Isn't that sweet?

Memorial Day

I don't know anyone who died in a war. Luckily, most of the veterans I know lived to contribute to my genetic makeup. So I can't do a very good job memorializing. But I will say... wouldn't this be a beautiful day to end this war?

I may be blurry

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but I'm cute.

Mostly Zadie news

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What do you do on a lazy Sunday with a baby? Dress her up, duh!

We went to the farmer's market this morning and got two avocados, some cherries, some strawberries, some kiwi, and a $6 tomato. No seriously; it was two pounds, though.

I made a tomato-avocado salad for dinner with a little vinaigrette and it was yummy.

There are about four thousand new pictures on Flickr of the baby in her rainforest chair, because when we first put her in it, she didn't care much for the attachment that whistled and shit. But I tried it again this morning, and apparently now she's ready for it. It has little lights, sounds, moving monkeys and birds, and rainforest sounds. She LOVES it. She watches it like an aspiring director watches a Hitchcock film. She studies the monkey for a while, raises her eyebrows, shrieks, looks at the lights, hits the bird, purses her lips, furrows her brow, kicks her legs.... Let's just say I know how I'm going to get a minute to eat breakfast or take a shower this week! I'll have to be careful not to abuse it and wear out its newness.

Now it's after dinner and I'm having a glass of pinot noir -- I have no idea where we got it, but it's good! -- and I had some Santander chocolate. Boompah gave it to me for Mother's Day and DANG is it good. I love my Scharffenberger, but this is now at least a close second.

We still didn't get to Home Depot, but we did have a nice nap and I finished my book (Laughing Without an Accent by Firoozeh Dumas).

Hope you're having a great Memorial Day Weekend. My neighbors are all barbecuing to the point that I'm a little concerned my smoke detectors are going to go off. We don't have any real special plans, but I'm hoping to FINALLY meet Monkeygirl's new beau for more than a few minutes.

What a low-key day

After last weekend's heat wave, I was surprised to wake up and find it was raining. It stopped earlier today but has remained gray and cool.

I haven't done much at all. Earlier I put Peapod in the swing for a while and did some cleaning. I took a shower and she screamed the whole time, so I didn't comb my hair after and it's all goofy now. I also didn't get dressed, so I'm still in my robe at 3:38 pm. We took a nap, and then I got up and talked to the State Farm agent who wanted to know everything ever about my medical history. Then we read some books. We've also nursed a whole bunch and tried to resolve some banking issues (I can't log on to the account that all our money is in). I uploaded a few pictures to Flickr, ate lunch... yeah, there's pretty much nothing going on. I feel bad about it, actually. I woke up this morning with big plans to go to Home Depot and look at bricks and pavers for the yard, but one thing sort of happened after another and I'm still in my robe. Yeah. At least we have dinner plans, so I HAVE to get off my ass.

She's been napping and nursing pretty much all day, so I guess you could say that I've been nurturing my kid. One point for me.

Tummy time

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Grandma's almost home, but here's pic of the day for her.

All right, I admit it...

I watched American Idol. Not religiously -- I almost never watched the results shows. But I even watched while in the hospital (hey, I had to go back to my room to pump milk!). Anyway, I hated Ramiele and thought she hung around too long. I never "got" Syesha. I had a creepy Mrs. Robinson crush on Jason. I liked Carly and was surprised when she left. I absolutely hated David Archuleta, and I was sure he was going to win, especially after the judges' comments Tuesday night. He just struck me as smarmy. I hated how he butchered "Imagine" and "We Can Work it Out." So I'm glad the other David won. Do I think he's great? No, and I don't think the winning song is a good one, but at least he's a rock dude. So... yay.

In other news, I read Zadie seven books today as she happily stared at them, cooed, and kicked her legs. I think she likes reading! Oh, and just to warn you -- I'm a little emotional anyway, but don't read "Guess How Much I Love You" or "The Runaway Bunny" if you're feeling vulnerable.

Baby news & body no-news

She gained 6 ounces this week. For those not obsessed with baby weight charts, that's very good and reassuring.

I'm a little tired of my big new body. I think it's going to be challenging to lose weight. First, I can't restrict my calories too much because I'm breastfeeding. Second, although I'm walking a lot, it's going to be difficult to get back to the gym. She's still in the habit of screaming whenever I leave, so if I went and worked out for an hour, that'd mean an hour of screaming for Sweetie. Finally, my booby drugs from Vanuatu, Domperidone, tend to make it harder to lose weight. I'm not beating myself up over it or anything, but it would be nice to wear something other than the same 6 elastic-waist-banded items. I'm going to try, despite the challenges. I walked 3 miles on Tuesday and I'm going walking again in a few minutes. And of course, I walk while wearing a now-nine pound baby. That's gotta add something, right?

I'm not smart

Bloodsource called me the other day to ask if I could donate blood. I said yes and made my appointment for this afternoon. Because the baby is always calm and quiet in the sling or while nursing, I figured I could just sling her and sit in the chair like that.

Apparently, that is against regulations -- she can't be in the chair at all. Well, not in Mama's arms is rather a different story with this girl. Not in Mama's arms = hissyfit of massive proportions. So she went ahead and had a hissyfit the entire time I was giving blood and various members of Bloodsource's staff tried vainly to comfort her. The absolute second I was done, I held her and she was fine. Silly me.

In other news, she gained almost 6 ounces this week! Hooray! I am distinctly less worried now. She's over 9 pounds finally.

Hey, you wanna hear something stupid? Have you ever seen the women walking through Target with their car seats up on the handles? I had NO IDEA how you did that. Did they latch on? Did you have to find a special cart? Well, I finally figured it out today -- they just sit up there. You just plop 'em in. Who knew?

I made fresh strawberry ice cream with farmer's market strawberries yesterday, so I'm going to go have some. (Although I DO love the Chubby Hubby I bought -- why has no one ever told me how incredible Chubby Hubby is?)

Suzanne's anti-Sex and the City meme

I never watched SATC, because I didn't have HBO. I think the few times I saw it I enjoyed it (I LOVE Chris from Northern Exposure, and one episode I saw had him on it!). I also enjoy a Cosmo now and again. But I did enjoy doing this meme!



"So, as the Sex and the City Movie comes to theaters near you and there is no escape from its press coverage, I present a meme for feisty, spirited women who share our lives and support one another, yet are also slovenly and/or miserly (or is it practical?):"

What's the cheapest pair of shoes you own?: I have a couple pairs of really cheap shoes. The current winner may be a $9 red gingham wedge from Payless.

What's your favorite piece of jewelry, if you own any?: Oh, I love my jewelry. It's almost all costume stuff. For sheer looks, I love my Jabberwock brooch, a scary-looking monster with a red eye! For sentiment, I love my engagement ring, which my great-grandma won in a raffle in Chico and gave to me when I was little. I'm also crazy about my Pandora charm bracelet. I wouldn't normally be a charm bracelet person, but everyone in my husband's family has one, and they bought one for me because I'm part of the family now. Isn't that nice? I wear it every day.

What's your favorite t-shirt?: Probably a tie between David Bowie, Bettie Page, and a Paul Frank tee.


If you could wear jeans every day, would you? No, because I'm a sucker for my vintage dresses. But there is nothing like a pair of well-fitting worn in Levis, is there? I don't have a pair like that right now, because I'm about 40 pounds over my preferred weight.

Do you comb your hair every day? No. It's grown out into a weird style that looks better curly than straight. Combing de-curlies it.

Eight weeks is two months!

Holy cow... almost everyone we meet tells us to savor this time, because they grow so fast, and I think we already have a taste of that.

Here is Zadie at birth:

Here she is today:


The second day:


Last week:


Then: She wouldn't be put down in the crib, and we spent miserable nights trying to make it work.
Now: We gave up and bought a co-sleeper and all three of us sleep well most of the time.

Then: We weren't able to breastfeed at all at first, then we managed it but had latch problems and used a shield.
Now: She's a latch-a-holic. She can latch upside-down, half-asleep, without my help...

Then: She slept almost all the time.
Now: She's awake for long periods, and can smile, coo, and as of Sunday, laugh. She also seems to respond to her name.

Then: She was born with a full head of dark, surprisingly curly hair.
Now: It has fallen out in male-pattern-baldness style, and she loses more all the time. It also looks lighter.

Then: Her eyes were dark, dark blue.
Now: They lightened up to a lighter blue and are gradually becoming shot through with a greeny-brown.

Then: We said "Hey, it almost looks like she's trying to do something with her hands!"
Now: She can purposely suck on her hand.

Then: We loved her immensely.
Now: That one hasn't changed a bit.

She knows her name

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Seriously, she smiles almost every single time I say "Your name is Azadeh" or "Your name is Zadie." I even threw in a control at the end... for science.

Left turns

Attention all California drivers: 21801. (a) The driver of a vehicle intending to turn to the left or to complete a U-turn upon a highway, or to turn left into public or private property, or an alley, shall yield the right-of-way to all vehicles approaching from the opposite direction which are close enough to constitute a hazard at any time during the turning movement, and shall continue to yield the right-of-way to the approaching vehicles until the left turn or U-turn can be made with reasonable safety.


That means, you CAN'T TURN LEFT in front of me if the light just turned green. You have to wait.

The hotel

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Say, Count, how did you skin your knee?
On the bedding.
Wait, what? Did you have it on the floor and go skidding into home plate?
No.
Were you doing something naughty?
No.
Well how do you skin your knee on a blanket?
Just by crawling over it... if it's made of SANDPAPER!

Yes, the comforter (which was of no comfort) was made of sandpaper and the blanket was made of fiberglass. Unusual choices, really. I have an image in my head of the buyer for the hotel at a big textile warehouse going "Wool? Not itchy enough. Hairshirt? Has possibilities. Barbed wire? Too obvious..."

Besides Zadie's unusual sleep habits, we were also disturbed by the guy next door who listened to CNN at full volume until 5:30 am. Oh, and the fact that we were adjacent to the elevators.

We also managed to knock the headboard off the wall only to discover, when we tried to hang it back up, that the hangy-thing was already broken (i.e. we COULD have broken it, but the broken-off piece was missing, so it was clearly already broken and sort of hanging on there half-assed).

Aside from all that it was okay, and it was centrally located. Still, I think next time we'll be back at the Sunset Inn.

We are home safely

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That's my new hat. In the background is one of the natural bridges our favorite beach is named for. This was Zadie's first trip to the beach ever! We touched her feet to the sand but didn't try the ocean water after the pool incident.

Friday

For breakfast, we walked to the Walnut Avenue Cafe, one of our favorite breakfast joints down here. The hostess was really nice, and because it was a weekday morning it was quiet, and most of the other customers were regulars on their way to work, parents with older children dressed for school, etc. We walked back to the hotel so Sweetie could get to his conference.

I decided to put off taking Zadie to the beach for the first time until Sweetie could be with us. I had an ulterior motive, though: I wanted to shop. Sweetie's idea of shopping is jogging through the streets, passing almost every establishment, encouraging me to go look in when I look at someplace REALLY longingly, and then standing outside tapping his foot until I come out. So I decided that since he was in a conference all day, I'd go downtown by myself! The baby and I sat around for a little while, since nothing opens until 10:30, but at around ten we walked downtown. I went in every shop that pleased me, and I bought many little trinkets, including a new sun hat and new shoes (more on them later).

Sweetie's conference broke for lunch at 12:30, so I went back to the hotel to meet him and two colleagues and they snagged an extra bag lunch and we all sat in the park nearby and ate. Then we went inside to show the baby off a bit, and finally they went back to their conference and I went to the pool. I just sat on the edge and tried to read, but there were four students who came over and fawned over the baby (can't blame 'em) and a really talkative woman, so I didn't get much reading done. I was trying to make sure Zadie didn't get too warm, so I was occasionally wetting her scalp a little with pool water or sprinkling some on her chest. She was fine with that, but then at one point I got her out of the sling and dipped her feet in the water. The face she made is one I'll never forget -- her mouth opened into a gigantic square, her eyes widened, and she stared at me in utter shock and horror for a moment before starting to cry. Okay, no feet in the pool, then.

Sweetie's conference was only about an hour and a half after lunch, so then we dinked around at the hotel for a while and finally went to dinner at Thai House, a gaudily decorated place around the corner. Our meal was pretty tasty, but his was actually hot while I think the waitress must have misheard my "please make mine spicy, too" as "please make mine not spicy at all." After that, we walked downtown again to 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, a place mathematically inclined towards making people alcoholics (seriously, there's a wall of fame for people who have gotten through all 99 beers 25 times -- we actually did the math). I had heard they had a banana lambic and Sweetie loves banana stuff, Unfortunately, they didn't, so we both had cherry lambics instead. Funny picture to follow of Zadie passed out in my lap with the 99 Bottles menu.

Then we returned to the hotel and watched bad TV and played on the internet until bed, where we slept until 2, because Miss Fussface decided it was morning. After like 4 straight hours of fussing and nursing and kicking and happy noises, she tooted loudly about four times, so I'm thinking it was a gas thing.

This morning we checked out and are at Badass Coffee, where we got a great cup yesterday. We came back for free wi-fi and a light breakfast.

A few notes: the Pack and Play is much easier to UNpack and play. I still do not know how the rectangular mattress is supposed to fit in the oval bassinet. Square peg, round hole. It doesn't work.

The shoes I bought are red Crocs (I know, I know). They're Mary Janes, and the style is called "Alice" (how perfect, right?). They are very comfortable for the first ten minutes or so, but then the little nubbies on the sole that start as massagers become pointy stabbers of death.

If you happen to be lecherous and in need of a vacation, may I recommend Santa Cruz? Apparently in the heat, the women start running around in nothing but beach cover-ups and really tiny miniskirts. I've been damn near flashed a couple times. One woman's outfit blew against her in the wind and revealed ALL. I've seen women better covered by lingerie.

Okay, Sweetie is looking over my shoulder like "Are you done yet?" So I guess I will be. Beach next, and more later today, probably with pictures (that is, if I don't fall dead asleep the minute we get home).

Saturn Cafe

This was Zadie's first trip to Saturn Cafe, our favorite funky vegetarian cafe in Santa Cruz. I had the "Space Cowboy," which is essentially a Western Bacon Cheeseburger only with fake meat. We shared the spicy sampler appetizer, which comes with two tiny fake buffalo wings, garlic fries, chips, salsa, and DELICIOUS jalapeno buttons (beer-battered fried jalapeno rings.



Des, just for you I took a picture of the bathrooms. They're not gendered, so you have to choose whether you are a robot or an alien.

Oh, I see... there's a CORD

Well, the hotel has high-speed internet, just not wi-fi. You have to go to the counter and get a cord. A short cord, incidentally, so Sweetie is sitting on a chair by the door and I am lying at the very edge of the foot of the bed. Sheesh. Cords.

High speed internet my ass

We're in Santa Cruz without internet AGAIN. At least our usual hotel doesn't claim to have it. This place does, but we can't connect to save our lives. The gelateria with free wifi closed, so we're at a coffee shop instead. Suffice to say, we won't be as available online. But I'll take lots of pictures of Z's first trip to the beach, which I expect will be tomorrow.

The pack and play has a learning curve (I'm still not positive I have the mattress pad in correctly, but it doesn't appear to be hazardous, so we're going with it), and it takes up most of the floor space, which only added to the comedy of errors we instigated while looking for an outlet. (It involves a headboard crashing to the floor, breaking a three-prong plug, and possibly scandalizing the maintenance guy by having my booby pad dislodged -- he left, then phoned and said he could come back when we weren't busy.)

Anyway, now we're internetting and listening to the batshit crazy people in the booth behind us. She is talking about how babies already know everything they need to at birth because they have a "road map" and he is reading her a story? a poem? in which he keeps pronouncing laboratory like la-BOAR-a-tory. It has the word 'madness' in it a lot, too. Oh, and Zadie's on my boob because she has three moods today -- sleeping, fussy, and nursing.

I love my playmat

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Thanks, Grandpa S and Tia. I love looking in the mirror at the "other baby."

Two items of note: Yes, that's spitup in the background, but it's breastmilk spitup, so I'm hecka proud.

Also, I do not put her in that Snuggly outfit as though it is a strapless dress. I put it on over her shoulders and she Houdinis her way out of it. She has now further kicked it off so that it's like a sarong around her waist.

She really is having a great time on the mat. She's even managed to make the toys jingle a few times.

Not telling horror stories

Today there was a pregnant gal in the Mommy and Me class. She misunderstood the "me" part was for babies who are already born, but whatevs (I'm only annoyed with her because she was stupid about other stuff, too). Anyway, she was asking about how long people's labors had been and what their experiences at the different hospitals had been like. And people started telling birth stories. And all of a sudden I realized that I had a really traumatic story that would scare the shit out of this poor pregnant lady. So I didn't tell it, because I never wanted to be one of those mean ladies who scares pregnant women. I love telling stories, but I probably won't tell that one too often. It was an interesting realization. I'm going to spend the next, oh, twenty years holding myself back from telling my birth story. Well, you guys know, and I'm sure I'll tell Zadie. I wrote it down, too. Hmph.

Daddy series

Between smile series.

I was trying to catch the smiles she was giving me between shots. It's still cute.

15 seconds for Grandma

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

Grandma's out of town, so this one's for her.

Hope I'm not overloading you with video or cuteness.

Coos part two

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Originally uploaded by countmockula

I didn't realize the first video got cut off before most of the good noises.

Bits and pieces

Does that phrase remind you of the song Weird Science? It does me... (From my heart and from my hand, why don't people understand my intentions?)

I had a nice Mother's Day yesterday. Sweetie had already given me my new laptop, of course, and two new books, but he had a nice card for me. Then we went to Mom's house and I got chocolate from Boompah and Zadie got her first Ralph Lauren Polo shirt. Mom had already gotten me the Flip camera which brought you that video earlier, but she also ordered some clothes for the baby from Old Navy, including a shirt with pink flamingos on it to match my new Hawaiian shirt with pink flamingos because OHMYGODHOWCUTEISTHAT??

We're getting really excited about a trip to Oregon this summer. We're pricing air fares and such, and I'm totally thrilled. We'll get to see the niece who was sick and the sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and niece and nephew who couldn't make it down with the rest of the family. I'm delighted and excited!

This weekend we're going to Santa Cruz. It's for a conference (his), and it'll be our first time away from home overnight with the baby. We borrowed Mom's pack and play and I have a mental list of all the things we need to pack to be well-prepared. Of course, I'll still find we've forgotten things, even though I expect Jellyfish (my car) will look like the Joads'. Seriously, in addition to the pack and play, the diaper bag, and all the clothes, food, and diapers we're packing, I am planning on taking a sun shade and blanket or sleeping bag for the beach. On the way home, we're stopping to meet a friend who is supposed to give us a jumperoo and swing, and I think we may need some rope to lash them to the top of the car.

I've been reading this book that my friend Leafy Greens recommended called Prague, and it is taking me FOREVER. I was reading it before the baby was born. Now, I have read another book and about fifteen magazines in the meantime, but I keep putting this down and picking it back up. Mostly, it's been interesting, even though one or two of the characters are totally infuriating, but there was an incredibly long flashback of several generations of this family that ran a printing house and I just wanted to claw my eyes out rather than continue reading. It's finally over, though. I owe Leafy Greens about twenty postcards, so I need to finish it so I can tell him what I thought of it.

I'm considering letting my hair get a little longer again. Right now it's a shapeless white-fro, but I might want to go back to a chin-length or ear-length bob. I might even go back to blond again -- it's been a while. Of course, that means going back to my stylist, who is genius and, well, really slow. It means hours away from the baby, so at the very least, I'm going to wait until the end of the month. In the meantime, there's more scrunching and headbands in my future.

Last week, I heard this conversation as Sweetie engaged in his usual Wednesday evening online geekery:

"... that picture of him with the toothbrush..."
"... yeah, there's another one of her in a matching shirt..."
"...that was me... I was on the Usual Suspects..."
"...so what's with that guy? Does he just not want to deal with her?"

At this point I interjected. "What do you mean, deal with me?!" I had to ask Sweetie later just how many of his gamer friends read this blog regularly, and it's a fair number of them. So, uh, hi guys! I had no idea you were reading, although of course you're welcome to. I apologize for all the boob and vajayjay talk. You clearly know WAY too much. Isn't it funny that I'm more comfortable revealing all this to total internet strangers than to Sweetie's friends?

Okey doke, that's all. Off to eat chocolate and drink wine (before you protest, it metabolizes, and if I'm not drunk, it won't get the baby drunk).

6 weeks -- coos, yawns, smiles

6 weeks -- coos, yawns, smiles
Originally uploaded by countmockula

Check her out!

Happy Thanksgiving

First of all, thanks to Zadie for making me a Mom.

Thanks to my mom. If I just did everything exactly as she did, I'd be a damn fine mother.

Thanks to Sweetie both for helping me become a mother and for being my partner in everything. He's the husband and father I'd have wished for, if only I knew to.

Thanks to my grandmothers, my step-mother, and my mother in law. Thanks also to all the women who had a hand in raising me, my aunts and my late next-door neighbor included.

Thanks to my sisters in law for their support and love.

Thanks to all my friends who are mothers for showing me how they do it and for being my cheering section.

Thanks to all my friends without children for respecting my choice and for loving the bejeezus out of Zadie.

Thanks to all mothers everywhere who are doing this job thoughtfully.

I have so much to be thankful for on this, my first Mother's Day as a mom.

Zadie woke up with a smile. Best. Gift. Ever.

Lookee!

We were in Barnes and Noble and I was wandering around with these two books with the intention of putting them back (because I have so darn many books it doesn't make sense for me to buy more, even if, as with these, I REALLY, REALLY want them), but Sweetie took them from me and bought them for me for Mother's Day. My very first Mother's Day gift!!



I went to Ikea (again) with the catalog for the Antonius storage system (tm) and a plan. I only bought two other extraneous items (the pegboard, shown, and a beach sun shade, which I think will come in handy next week). I put it all together yesterday (a bit of a pain, since Ikea's set of screws didn't contain any short enough to screw the brackets to the shelves), and now I have an organized laundry room and a place for all my recipe books now that they've been booted, er, temporarily relocated from our office. Here's a close up and a sort of in-context view.





And finally, here is an upside-down Zadie pie. She is cooing and smiling these days, as well as spending longer periods in her vibro-chair without fussing (this is important, as we have discovered that we can hold her ALMOST 24-7 but not quite). It kind of bothers me how many pictures of the baby include the remote controls.

I remember Mama voting

See Acorn.org for the inspiration for this post. Thanks to Suzanne for passing it along.

How did my mom influence my politics? How didn't she? I'll stick to a few specific examples.

A clear memory I have is of being fairly young and accompanying my mom to a sick-out. She was a member of a large union, and they were negotiating a contract. It wasn't going well, and the union had instituted the sick-out instead of a walk-out or strike. The idea was that everyone would get evaluated by a doctor and the doctor would provide a note to excuse them from work due to their "condition." Mom was incredibly conflicted about it, and talked to me the whole day about her reasons and motivations. Firstly, she hated to miss work, and her work ethic didn't allow her to ever take so much as a mental health day. In fact, when she retired a few years ago she had months worth of sick time left over. She believed in working hard and doing a good job. On the other hand, she believed in what the union was doing, and as a member of the union, she felt obligated to support them, not only for herself but for all the other members who needed better terms for their contracts. Finally, and this is my mom all over, she didn't particularly feel well that day, so she felt she could sort of justify taking the day off. But she had to stay home all day, not even leave to go get groceries, because if someone from work called, she felt she had to be home to answer. My dad was a union representative and my grandmother swears she'll be buried ass-up so everyone can read the "Union Yes" tattoo on her butt (fictional), but this real-world example of supporting one's union and all the reasons why still resonates in my head. I'm an active member of my union now (got the t-shirt and everything) and tend to vote pro-union.

Another memory I have is of driving home from Tower Theatre, where I'd seen a Mom, Guess What newspaper (a gay paper) and talking to my mom about gay folks. I had just started high school and met a few of my own, plus my mom had a new gay friend. Although she had always taught me that you had to treat everyone equally and not judge until you knew someone, the whole gay thing was kind of new. I was curious about it and Mom laid down her view: gay people were exactly like everyone else, and the rule still applied. You have to get to know someone before you can decide whether you like them or not, and that's that. Gay men loved other men and gay women loved other women and who cares. That's no reason to judge them or look down on them, and they should be treated just like everyone else. How does it apply to my voting? Well, I carefully consider which candidates are in favor of marriage equality (too few), vote for marriage equality whenever possible, and donate money to Equality California. If gay people are the same as everyone else (which Mom taught me so many years ago), then they deserve the same rights as everyone else. Anything less is unacceptable.

What else? Oh god, Mom bought me a copy of 50 Things Kids Can do to Save the Earth and now I vote green and live green to the best of my ability. Mom taught me that we need to be kind to people, and I think that voting my lefty politics is about being kind to people.

And of course, Mom taught me to vote. I don't know that there's an election that passed, even the little local ones, that we didn't walk down to the Baptist church a few blocks away, follow the "polling place" signs, greet the old people that volunteered there, walk to our (her) cubby, push the pin through the chads, drop the ballot in the box, and collect the "I voted" sticker. On election days now, even the little local ones, I am anxious until I get my sticker, and I usually go before work.

Mom taught me many things, and I could go on about the political ones, I'm sure, but let us leave it at this -- I wouldn't be who I am and believe as I do if it wasn't for her. Thanks, Mom.

I was that girl.

Have you ever been out with a group of people and the waitress/waiter ignores you and all you really want is a coffee refill but the waiter won't give you so much as eye contact? And then someone goes, "Oh hell, I'll get it myself then!" and they get up and grab the coffee pot and pour it for everyone? And then some of the people at the table are scandalized?

I've always been that person. I'm not the asshole who just does it because the waiter/waitress isn't snappy enough -- I'm talking only when we've been egregiously ignored for long periods.

Tuesday at Target I went to the photo counter, as I had ordered some prints. No one was behind the counter. There was no sign saying "back in five minutes." There was no one at a nearby register who offered to help me or call for assistance. I just waited there, lonely, for several minutes. Finally someone in a red shirt came out of the men's room, walked behind the counter, and started fussing with a walkie-talkie and some other items. I stood there with a smile and a vaguely expectant look. Finally, he looked up and said "I don't work here. I just keep my stuff back here." "Oh," I replied. "Does someone work here?" "'Yeah, they're on lunch." No offer to call them, no indication of when they'd be back...

So I went and found some shorts and tried them on, since I am still too fat for my regular shorts and I can't wear maternity pants all summer. And then I went back to the rack and got the larger size. Ugh.

And then I went back to the photo counter and there was STILL no one there. But there were two large drawers behind the counter labeled "A-L" and "M-Z." I figured that I can't be too much stupider than the average Target employee, and given my English degree, I may in fact be able to sort out alphabetical order. I went back and found my photos and threw them in my cart. The two ladies using the self-serve kiosk looked at me, scandalized, and I said "I'm not waiting for some asshole to come back from lunch."

I paid for my pictures (and my shorts and toothpaste and batteries for Zadie's vibro-chair) and beat feet. I don't think anyone from Target even noticed.

Someday Zadie will be old enough to be embarrassed by me.

At this very moment...

we are probably proving someone's theory about something.

Remember the time the deer licked my hand?

I have an old friend whom I went camping with once, and early in the morning a deer came out of the fog and the green and walked up to us and licked my hand. It was amazing.

And I've been wanting to email this friend and tell him that parenting is a lot like that, only all day long, because he's the only one who was there for that moment and knew how much it meant to me.

But I'm not emailing, because he doesn't really respond to my emails anymore. And it's been more than four years since we last had coffee together. And while he still comes to events of mine and invites me to events of his, it really feels like it is because his wife is my friend, not him.

I'm hurt, but I also think I understand. See, I've known him since he was 17, and I know all his secrets. I knew him when he was a grungy skateboarder who listened to Information Society and the Ramones. I knew him through an impressive succession of romantic entanglements and engagements. I have known every place he lived. I helped paint more than one of his bedrooms. I knew his mom, his brothers, his grandfather, his criminal uncle and his distant, decent uncles. I saw his mom dying. I watched his brothers leave. I knew him when he was funny and unsophisticated and unsure and young and made a mean monkey face.

And now he's a martini-drinking hipster artist and I think he wants to leave his whole past behind. And I am part of it. And I know the other parts of it, and goodness knows that I might someday give something away. I might spill a secret. The very air I carry around might give off the scent of our shared history. I might mention the neighborhood in which we grew up or the high school we attended. And I think he very much wants to be a man without a past. And I can grant him that. I can try, anyway. So I won't mention the camping trip or the deer. I won't reach out. I can let go if he needs me to.

Robert Frost invades my life

I bought The Outsiders for my cousin on Saturday, and an hour or so later, I saw a girl at Ikea with a tattoo of a tree on her arm with the words "Stay Gold" at the bottom. I had to ask, of course, if it was from the book. It was. In case you don't remember, Ponyboy has the Robert Frost poem memorized and tells Johnny about it. Before Johnny dies, he tells Ponyboy to stay gold. Makes me weep.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-- Robert Frost

This morning I talked to my neighbor about how our shared fence is falling down and we need to repair it. Neither of us has a dog or anything, so I don't think it's all that urgent. But good fences make good neighbors, right? Or do they...?

MENDING WALL


Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

--Robert Frost

More pissiness ahead.

Oh yeah, I'm mad at a TV advertisement again.

Here's the lowdown: Mom and daughter walk into Dairy Queen, Mom orders two calorie-laden desserts. Girl (7ish?) makes eye contact with boy, waves a little. She turns back to Mom and says "Make that one." Mom and daughter sit down and waitron brings over a second dessert, complements of the boy she made eye contact with. Girl says "It's like shooting fish in a barrel."

HURL!! Seriously, I could vomit. At first when the girl told her mom to just order one dessert, I assumed it was because she needed to watch her figure now that she'd discovered boys. Although that is later proved not to be true, the aftertaste of that nasty message sort of lingered. But what followed was possibly worse. It had the distinct overtone that the girl was using her (7-year-old) sexuality to manipulate men. It read, visually, a lot like a girl getting a free drink at a bar. I only hope there wasn't rohypnol in her hot fudge. I think the message is something like "Men are stupid and will buy you things, so you should manipulate them any way you can."

Am I taking it too seriously? Go ahead; you can tell me.

Positively Po-Mo

Sweetie told me this morning that a friend, with whom he communicates via the internet, mentioned to him that one the admins of a forum he belongs to commented that she thought it was funny to see that some members of that forum were following the link from her blog to my blog and commenting on my blog, all of which I'm now describing on my blog. Whoa. Dude. Can you even follow that?

I'm a (DUNH DUNH) TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY FOX! [/The Doors rip-off]

Anyway, hi new readers!

Ängël-headed Hipsters, Flobots, Un-green

Is Ikea the new hipster hangout? Judging by what I saw yesterday, yes! I went to pick up a few things and saw about ten cool, tattooed, funky-haired hip couples wandering hand-in-hand. And then I saw three yellow-shirted employees with either full sleeves of tattoos or at least several visible ones. When I went downstairs I could hear the music and they were playing David Byrne, Peter Gabriel, Sting, the B-52s, the Ramones, and Devo. Hmph.

I really like a new song I heard on the radio. It's called "Handlebars" and it's by the Flobots. They describe themselves as "hip-hop/progressive/classical" but they sound more to me like Cake meets Beck. Check out the song and others: http://www.myspace.com/flobots

Finally, I'm not done picking on environmentally irresponsible companies and their irritating fucking advertisements. Dixie, I'm looking at you again. I happened to see that same ad about a mom being "proud" that she uses disposable plates to serve dinner on because it gives her more time to spend with her family. On their web site, they have articles like this one, called "Pack 'Em, Toss 'Em." Rock on. I was already irritated, then, when the very next commercial was for Benadryl. The product is Children's Benadryl Perfect-measure single use spoons. Normally, one dispenses medication by pouring it from a bottle into a measuring bottle cap or a reusable measuring spoon. But these are plastic spoons with medication inside that you use once and throw away. As you might expect, they come individually wrapped, and all inside a box. Lots more waste than the standard way. It irritates me that in the name of convenience, companies are going towards more and more packaging. Trader Joe's sells its produce in plastic cartons, even apples! What's next, packaging our food in single-bite portions? Oh, wait...

Radio drama

If our lives were a 1930s radio play, here would be a portion of Friday night's script:

Announcer: Mockula and Sweetie are in bed at home. Between them is Peapod, the baby, whom Mockula is nursing.

Peapod: Suck suck suck suck suck suck suck UNGH! [a tooting sound is heard] suck suck suck.
Sweetie: What was that?
Mockula: I don't know. Maybe a toot?
Peapod: Suck suck suck UNGGHH! [toot] suck suck suck.
Mockula: Oh! Oh yuck, I just felt her diaper move.
Sweetie: Ew! That is disgusting! How can you eat and poop at the same time?
Peapod: Suck suck UNNGHHGH! [tooooot] [fussing sounds]
Mockula: Okay, okay, Mama's going to change your diaper. You're all right.
Sweetie: Yuck. [Mocks the grunting noise]
Mockula (laughing): Yeah, you're all right, we've got the old diaper off... Oh, ew, yuck.
Sweetie: What?
Mockula: Nothing, it's just really...
Peapod: UNGH!
Mockula: AAACKK! Oh Jesus! Oh no!
Sweetie: What!?
Mockula: No, she's just... she just wasn't done.
Sweetie: EEEEWWWWWW!!!!!
Mockula: You're going to have to get me another diaper cover.
Sweetie: Why?
Mockula: Because this one got poop on it.
Sweetie: [audible shudder] [sound of retreating footsteps]
Mockula: Okay, now you're all clean... AAAUUGHH! Oh no! [hysterical laughter]
Sweetie (distant): What?
Mockula (still laughing): There's more.
Sweetie: [approaching footsteps] Oh god! The whole room smells like poop!

[Sweetie and Mockula trade off making the grunting noise and laughing hysterically.]

It's called "transference"

when you take your own feelings and attribute them to someone else. I owe Sweetie an apology. After reading yesterday's blog, he was hurt, and wanted to make it clear that he is "150,000 percent" supportive of my breastfeeding. Yes, he'd feel better if we knew exactly what she was getting, but so would I. I think it's a measure of my anxiety that last night I had a nightmare about it: I was asking him whether Peapod looked dehydrated at all, whether, for instance, she had dry skin. We looked at her carefully and discovered that her skin was so dry it was cracked, scaly, and peeling all over. In fact, she's thriving, having longer active, alert periods each day, making more happy squeals, more funny faces... She's fine. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I know I have a lot of support and I'm lucky that I do. I am just personally so nervous that I doubt myself, doubt my support... I was even surprised to hear my mom say that she thought the breastfeeding was doing Peapod good; Mom had been so careful of my feelings that she had told me several times that it was okay if I couldn't breastfeed, that at least I had tried, etc. And I took that to mean that she was unsupportive of my breastfeeding and gunning for formula. But now I realize that it's all seen through my anxious filter. Everyone loves me, everyone loves Peapod, and everyone just wants us both to be happy and healthy.

I've been asked by others and have asked myself what I would be doing and thinking if I hadn't ever had a breast reduction, and the honest answer is that I'd find something else to panic and obsess about. I'm a new mom and a worrywart by nature.

More on breastfeeding ('cause I'm sure you're not sick of it or anything)

This is the email exchange I had with Zadie's doctor:

Hello,

I'm trying to breastfeed Azadeh, but I have low supply due to a breast reduction. We were supplementing 10 oz a day, but I felt as though I had more milk and she was seeming more satisfied and doing more nutritive sucking. She was also vomiting (spitting up large quantities of formula) after a 2 oz feeding. So I took her down to 7-8 oz a day, and she was seeming better. She was not fussy, and we have been looking for all the signs of dehydration and she's had none.

However, she's not gaining as fast as she should be. She was 8 lbs 7.8 oz at her last check two weeks ago, and according to the scale at Fair Oaks this morning, she was only 8 lbs 10 oz.

So my question is, do you think we should increase the amount of formula or do you think she's just a slow grower? Or should I wait to panic until I weigh her next week, as the scale may have been calibrated differently than the others she was weighed on before?

Thank you,
Count Mockula

Hi Count,
I reviewed her growth chart from her previous visits and she is above average for weight. Her weight gain is appropriate. You can feed her on demand and let her feed as much as she wants. If she is satisfied with breastfeeding it is not necessary to supplement her with formula. Let me know if you have other questions. Have a great weekend.

Sincerely,
Dr. L

My initial reaction is a 50/50 split between "Yahoo!! I can breastfeed! I can reduce the supplement! My baby is thriving!" and "Well, what does she know? Clearly, she doesn't understand my unique situation and obviously I'm on the verge of starving my child and she just doesn't know it." It's a really hard line to walk. I went online to my parenting forums for support, and everyone there said to just listen to the doctor. Even my mom said that maybe the reason Zadie's been so active and happy lately is that she's getting more breastmilk. Now, Sweetie seems to be comforted by the fact that you can measure formula, that it causes faster weight gain... hell, even that it's called "formula." He's supportive of breastfeeding, but a little leery, I think. If there was a gauge on the side of my boob that rolled over like a gas meter, I think he'd feel better. Of course, so would I.