Archive for June, 2009

Time to get out

June 30, 2009

travel-michigan-lake-of-the-cloudsBetween work and the baby, I find myself spending less time outdoors than I’d like. But last night I spent a few minutes on my deck soaking in the smell of summer while sitting on one of our too infrequently used adirondack chairs. Funnily enough, it was my dog who got me out there–she refused to come inside.

It was overcast and a bit cooler than usual, but I consciously took in a few deep breaths of Michigan air. There’s nothing quite like a summer in Michigan, and every time I hear the Tim Allen narrated Pure Michigan ads I’m reminded why I left the big city to move back to a state that thousands are fleeing en masse.

There are lakes everywhere here–big ones, small ones and even one in my backyard (Ok, it’s really more like a ditch filled with standing water, but a girl can dream, can’t she?). There are towns that take the word quaint to a new level. There are people who say “Up North,” and though that can encompass hundreds of cities north of the 45th Parallel, Michiganders and Michigan enthusiasts alike simply nod in understanding.

So many of my childhood summer vacations involved packing up the station wagon and pointing it north or enjoying a “staycation” and turning to the local waters where a sturdy stick, some twine and a solitary hook were all that was required to catch dozens of sunfish.

With these precious days of summer now upon us, let’s all make a conscious effort to follow my dog’s lead and refuse to come inside.

On Van Halen and bathtubs…

June 26, 2009

Remember that song from Van Halen called “Right Now?” I’ve always liked the music video for this song. In particular, I’ve often thought about the line that flashes on screen at around the 3 minute 46 second mark. It reads, “Right now, you’re not doing what you most wish you were.” Usually when I see the video and that line in particular, unfortunately I have to concur. From time to time when in a work meeting or stuck in traffic or the waiting room of a doctor’s office, I’ve thought about that line and its truth. Unfortunately, those times seem to be too frequent.

But not last night. And not the night before that and not the night before that. Because last night and the nights preceding it, I gave Meghan a bath, and though our tub desperately needs resealing as the paint is slowly chipping off, and though the bathroom decor needs serious updating, and though the light is just a little too dim in there, I couldn’t think of any other place I’d rather be or anything else I’d rather be doing. And thankfully these moments are becoming more and more frequent.

Breaking up is hard to do

June 24, 2009

Ever wonder what it feels like to be a dairy cow? Wonder no more. Just buy yourself a breast pump.

While packaging experts over at Medela and Avent have done wonders to accessorize them (hey, mine’s hidden in a backpack for crying out loud), breast pumps are really just dairy farms in a bag. I should know I hook up with to one multiple times a day.

In fact, I spend so much time hooked up to my pump that I’m  starting to resent that it hasn’t taken me out for a drink or complemented my shoes. Fat chance of that. Pumpie, as I like to refer to him–ur–it is a selfish SOB. He takes and takes and never gives.

I’m actually starting to feel a little uncomfortable with our relationship, and in more ways than one. Our interactions have become increasingly painful, and P Daddy (another of his pet names) always seems to be around–showing up at my office, following me upstairs at night, and sitting perched on my nightstand each morning. I’m concerned that his presence could forever drive a wedge between me and my hubby who immediately leaves the room any time “that thing” and I even look at each other.

Though I’m afraid of a major “let down,” I fear Pumpie’s days are numbered.

Ode to Billy B. on his first Father’s Day

June 21, 2009

I know this is a “mommy blog” of sorts, but I feel it only apropos that on this, the eve of Father’s Day, that this post be focused on the father of my baby girl and the love of my life. It has been so enjoyable to see my hubby as a dad. I always knew it was the role he was born to play, and I haven’t been disappointed.

So I offer this “Ode to Billy B. on His First Father’s Day” and my heartfelt thanks for giving me the second love of my life.

Ode to Billy B. on His First Father’s Day

Even though our babe is only a tot

She needs to know that you love her a lot

So you sing and talk in funny voices

And can uncannily replicate her snorts and other bodily noises.

You sing her the Dance-eriffic ditty

That contains little but jibberish and nothing at all witty.

But you sing it anyway with gusto and zest

So she knows it’s her whom you love the best.

You call her Meggy Spaghetti, the peanut and Smiley Joe

And, with me, dream of all the places she’ll go.

You love it when she wears the yellow sleeper

In it you can’t help but hold and keep her

Close to your chest where she can hear your heart beat

While she squeals and smiles while  kicking her feet.

You gave her your blue eyes that sparkle in the sunlight

And that dark dark hair that draws comments from left and from right!

You painted her room at your wifey’s request

And made sure you gave it your very best.

For Baby Girl would be sleeping in that very nursery

So the paint job had to be anything but cursory.

You watched in awe as we first saw her on ultrasound

Squeezing my hand when she did flips upside down.

Late at night, you’ll pull me by the hand to take a peek

At our little baby when she’s fast asleep.

In the morning you jump from bed in a hurry

At the first sounds of stirring that come from her nursery

To pick up our peanut and witness her morning smiles

Because they are many, and they make it all worthwhile.

On this, your first Father’s Day, I say thanks on behalf of our special girl

And offer my own thanks to you for our Meghan, our pearl.

Bill and MKB3

The longest Sunday night ever

June 12, 2009

You know that feeling you get in your gut on Sunday nights when you’ve had a great weekend but have to go back to work the next morning? My husband likes to call it the “Sunday blues.” Well I’ve had the Sunday blues for about three weeks as I anticipated my return to work–but this time as a mom. I can handle going back to work. I’m a big girl. But I’m more concerned about my mental state now that I have a daughter, and even more importantly I’m concerned about her well being in the care of someone besides me.

But like many things in life, the reality is rarely as bad as the anxiety that precedes it. I’ve made it through the first half of my first day back at work after a 12-week maternity leave, and I’m still alive. The world is still turning. The beat goes on. Maybe I can handle this after all.

We’ll see on Sunday night.

On spinning wheels and other such things…

June 5, 2009

My baby girl just graduated from size 0-3 months to size 3-6 months. I’m not entirely surprised by this (though she is only two and half months old) as my husband and I aren’t exactly petite. But as I fitted her in a new pink Gerber sleeper for bed last night, I noticed some wording imprinted on her PJs. It read, “….my fairy tale has just begun…” What a fun and whimsical way to look at the journey that will be her life!

And then I inevitably started thinking about my own life. Would I consider it a fairy tale? Fairy tales are typified by beautiful people with the fairest of skin, magical happenings, and, of course, happy endings. Real life certainly doesn’t always enfold quite as neatly.

But then I began to think about fairy tales a bit further. Cinderella’s own stepmother inflicted some pretty harsh emotional abuse upon her. Snow White spent some time entombed in a glass coffin while in a coma her father’s wife caused. The Little Mermaid had to choose between life on land with her soul mate and life in the sea with her beloved father and sisters. These fairy tale heroines sustained some pretty bizarre things to get to their happy endings. Perhaps our lives are more like fairy tales than we think.

Actually, the more I think about it, my life isn’t completely unlike a fairy tale. After all, I was raised by a fairy Godmother…well she wasn’t really a fairy, and she wasn’t really my Godmother, and to be honest she did have the help of a wise sage whom I and my sisters like to call the Gray Hair (aka dad), but I like to refer to her as a fairy Godmother nonetheless. I did meet Prince Charming (who though he made me wait for some time, did eventually come on to the scene). And while I don’t live in a pumpkin or a big blue castle on a cloud, I do have a pretty great home with a kick ass vegetable garden where we attempt to grow pumpkins. And now that I think about it, something magical did happen to me not too long ago; my baby girl came into the world and took over my heart. So I guess I am living a fairy tale–perhaps we all are. If so, I offer this advice: it’s probably best to decline the offer of an apple from suspicious strangers, always heed your midnight curfew and  avoid spinning wheels at all costs!