Some Random Stuff

None of this is worthy of its own post, but it's stuff I wanted to get in writing:

1) I had mentioned some "Malstones," and later remembered this: Mal knows the word and the sign for "ball." Although he can't (or doesn't) sign or say "ball," if I sign or say it, he'll look for or at a ball. What he will do, though, is pop his mouth (like making an exaggerated "p" sound), which apparently I do when I sign but don't vocalize "ball."

2) Mal also finally has the "high five" down. He's still pretty wimpy and a bad aim with his slap, but he's tracking and can respond to the request.

3) Typically, we've been eating out at least twice every weekend, then maybe another time during the week... so thrice weekly. Since we can't walk to dinner, we haven't eaten out in almost two weeks.

4) I'm dirtying and washing a lot of dishes (see #3... and #5).

5) I feel like I won "The Price is Right"! When we moved, I got a new big Crock Pot (our old old one broke when the attic door at the Nuthaus swung open and knocked it off of the refrigerator, then our new old one was like 1 quart and we could only make tiny things), a new Cuisinart Griddler, a new Ninja (or Fruit Ninja, as my sister kept calling it, so now I call it that), and a new ice cream maker (on sale for $25 at Breed and Company right before we moved). We used all four last weekend! I made two batches of ice cream (sweet corn blueberry and chocolate peanut butter), chicken breasts with potatoes and carrots (the potatoes were from Farmhouse Delivery), macadamia-crusted talapia and butternut squash soup and artichoke and spinach dip with the Ninja, and perfect pancakes and veggie burgers and s'mores on the Griddler! Also, I make smoothies pretty much every day, and Mal barely shares them with me. I'm loving it!

6) Oh, yeah, we subscribed to Farmhouse Delivery, which is a lot like Bountiful Baskets, I'd imagine. Every 2 weeks, we get a large bushel of local produce. So far, so good. The potatoes were amazing. The cucumber was delicious, too. And onions. The only thing in which I have been disappointed so far was the tomatoes. They tasted like the grocery store instead of the ground, which I've come to expect from fresh tomatoes.

7) Daphne is still hanging out and talking more. I think this might be an insurance policy for her, but I'll take it.

8) Mal's Cherokee blood (James' side) is coming out in his ability to tan. Except for in his fat creases, which are 100% white like I am.

That's it for now. Here's another picture. Night!

Malstones Galore: The boy is growing up fast!

There he is!

Little Mal is hardly little anymore. I weighed him at a friend's house the other day, and he's 25 pounds. At 9 months. He probably could walk right now, but he shows no interest. He crawls everywhere and pulls up and climbs and sometimes lets go of stuff and stands up. But he's made no effort to take steps, which means I get to look forward to continuing maintenance of these upper body muscles for a few more months, at least.

Developmentally expected, he's in full bore separation anxiety mode. We're back to my not being able to take showers or have him sit through a full meal or my being able to tidy up the kitchen without fussing for me to hold him, but two things help: I know it's temporary, and he's letting James soothe him in ways he didn't before.

For instance, yesterday at the post office, Mal fell back and hit his head. I was busy packaging a couple of things, so James picked Mal up. Mal really wanted me. But he let James hold him, and eventually he calmed down. That was a first! It happened a second time, later in the day, when he was upset that I was busy making dinner. James took Mal to his room, and within a few minutes, Mal was playing quietly.

Speaking of James, I'd noted that Mal had started saying, "Dada" over a month ago. Mal calls James now, as well as saying "Dada!" very happily when he sees his dad after a long day of separation, or even just a long play time, and James comes in to see what's going on.

But that's not all!

The other day, I called to Daphne down the hall, and Mal hollered, "Da-dayee!" It was distinctly different than his "Dada." I wondered if he was trying to say Daphne's name, and since then, he's done it about 5 more times. Today, I'd lost sight of him and hear him saying, "Da-nayee!" I called down the hall, "Is he in your room?" Daphne said, "Yes. Please come get him." But allegedly she did not hear him say her name. Which he does.

Does he call me "Mama"? Nope. Not really. He cries "Mama!" when he wants me, but I think that's just because it works, and because that's a sad sound that kids make. I try to reinforce it by saying, "Yes?" when he randomly repeats, "Mom" over and over again.

We've worked into a semi-routine where Mal naps twice a day instead of three times. Usually, the first nap starts between 9:00 and 11:30 and lasts between an hour and two hours (yes, he wakes up once or twice during, and I have to nurse him back to sleep). Then he'll nap again between 2:30 and 5:00 for the same amount of time, an hour to two hours. If he catches some sleep in the car, one of those might be eliminated, or it might not. The shorter and/or earlier the second nap, the earlier he usually goes to sleep. He was asleep by 8:00 PM two nights ago, but 9:30 last night. It's typically during that window. And he's up between 6:15 and 7:15 every morning. And, yes, he nurses all night.

He does this thing where, when he rouses in the night, he just starts crawling. He might crawl into the wall, or over me, or toward the foot of the bed, or into James' face. I don't know that he's fully waking, but I surely am. I have to wrestle him back into a laying position so he will fall back to sleep. I wake up sore every morning. This kid, remember, weighs nearly 2 stone.

Mal understands a lot. He gets excited when I ask him if he's ready for a bath. When James was trying to point out some birds eating off of the patio deck and said, "Look! There are some birds!" Mal instead looked toward the feeder. He knows some things he isn't supposed to do, and as he starts to do them, he doesn't know enough to be subtle. Instead, he'll go to whatever it is he's not supposed to be messing with (our phones, my soda, Daphne's room, the toilets) and before he gets there, turn to look at us, and giggle with the biggest... uh, poo-eating grin on his face. We're in big trouble, folks.

Mal loves fruit. He will drink anything I pour out of our Ninja, including a thing I made up yesterday that had peaches, mango, banana, cucumber, and spinach in it. The other morning, it was blueberries, chia seeds, banana, spinach, and carrots. He loves cherries. He loves raisins. He likes most meat. He prefers to feed himself than to have us do it. He has a cup with a straw that he can use on his own, but sippy cups still baffle him. He hasn't really cottoned on to the tipping back part yet. He really likes almond milk with a touch of honey (it's prepared and comes in the milk, and it's pasteurized, so don't freak out about the honey before he's a year old).

I almost hate to say this, lest I jinx it, but the past week or so, getting Mal into his carseat hasn't been the knock-down drag-out it has been, well, the rest of his life. That might have to do with the fact that we're in the car a bit more than we were when we lived downtown and he's just realized that nothing bad is going to happen, or it might have to do with the vanilla wafers I've started leaving in the back seat. The second we get into the car, I hand him one and sit him in the seat, strapping him in while he eats it. I'll take the mess over the tantrum any day of the week.

There's probably more I need to note, and I'll think of it later, but for now, I'm worn out and need to get to sleep! I konked out during the fireworks last night, and was out for the evening before 9:30. I felt like doing that again today, but wanted to record some of these things for posterity's sake.

An Open Letter to the Lactation Consultant I Almost Saw

Dear Ma'am,

The incident I'm about I am about to describe took place almost 9 months ago, during the second week of October 2014. At the time, I was too overwhelmed by being a mother of a newborn to process what I was feeling, but now I have more clarity and wanted to write this so that, in case you or any of your colleagues across our nation or even the world came across this, maybe it would help you improve your services.

When I called you, my baby was 16 days old. I hadn't been able to breastfeed my older child, but wanted to try with this one. We'd gone through the colostrum stage and had all of the expected diapers for a newborn, but then once we moved on to the milk, he had not had a "regular" dirty diaper.

Days passed. I heard everything from, "It's nothing; lots of breastfed babies use up everything in the milk and only wet" to "He's constipated; use a suppository" to "Something could be very wrong." In my mommy heart, I wasn't concerned. But I trusted my midwives, and once we were closing in on one week with no dirty diapers, they strongly suggested that I call you.

They said that, if nothing else, we could have the peace of mind that he was eating enough, as you had a very delicate scale that could indicate as much. So Friday afternoon, I called you to see if you were available on Monday.

You suggested that you come Saturday, because you said that in all of your years of doing this, you'd never heard of such a thing. After I agreed to that, you said, out loud, "I have plans with my family all day tomorrow, but I could come out first thing in the morning and probably not miss too much."

ITEM #1: That was unprofessional. This is your job. When you suggest a meeting time, either make it work or don't and tell me you misspoke. I don't know you; we're not friends. I don't need to know that you might be blowing off things you promised your kids to fit me in. Incidentally, I would have been fine with Monday. I would have preferred Monday, as I take much more of a "wait and see" attitude with this kind of thing, unless something "tells" me otherwise. As it was, I was full of postpartum hormones, and whether you meant to make me sound like a burden, or like you were doing me a huge favor, your thinking out loud made me very anxious. And I was already feeling pretty icky, what with people telling me that I was being too complacent about my child's care. Again, this is a lot of "new mom" emotional stuff, but these are the women you chose to serve. You're getting paid. Please treat me with professionalism.

You suggested that you would come out at 8:30, and that you'd need about thirty minutes to set up your scale, so we'd do the weigh-in at 9:00. Then you said, "Don't feed him for about two hours before I get there." I almost laughed. At that point, pretty much all of my time was spent feeding him. I said, "I'll try! He wants to nurse around the clock, no set schedule, and he wails if I try to put him off" to which you responded, "If you feed him fifteen minutes before I get there, there's no point in my coming. I need to get an idea of how much he's getting during a full feeding." I didn't go into the fact that every fifteen minutes *was* pretty much a full feeding, as we were doing it. That wasn't really important. If you'd stopped there, I would have understood you, and it would have been fine.

But then you said, "Besides, you're the parent. At some point, you're going to have to let him cry, so you might as well do it now."

ITEM #2: When he's just over two weeks old? You're a lactation consultant! If anyone were down with demand feeding, I would have assumed it'd be you. Here's what was going on: 1) My son might or might not be getting enough nutrition; the last thing I want to do is make him fast for two hours if he genuinely needs nourishment. 2) He is crying about 60-75% of his waking/non-feeding time, no matter what I do. Even when I intervene. Even when I'm holding him. So when I can soothe him to keep him from crying, that's what I need to do. 3) Did I mention the postpartum hormones? I did not need a lecture. I know I'm the parent. And now that my baby is 9 months old, I do let him cry when he wants to nurse but it won't work, especially when I have other snacks to offer and know he's very well fed. But during those first few weeks, it's hard enough without someone taking a peremptory tone, especially because I tell you I want to feed my baby. Not smoke around him. Not leave him in his crib while I run across to Taco Cabana. I know this is what you do every day, but you need to remember that I'm a new mom. I need gentle care. Not scolding.

However, then you offered to do something kind. You said, "Tell you what, if you wake up around 6 and feed him, go ahead and text me, and I can come earlier."

I appreciated this, especially the next morning when we woke up at about 6:45 and, because we were co-sleeping and nursing all night, couldn't really remember when we'd fed last. I figured it'd probably been within the half hour to hour before that, so I texted you. I also wanted you to know that, guess what, he'd had his first dirty diaper that morning! (I cried. Seriously.)

You said, "Okay. I'll come at 8:30 instead."

Uh.

ITEM #3: Our appointment was supposed to be at 8:30. So coming at 8:30 wasn't early. It was on time. I thought, "I'm glad I texted her! I wonder if, because she told me 8:30, half an hour to set up, and we'll weigh in at 9, she thought or wrote down that the appointment was at 9. Whew!"

Then I thought, "Oh! Maybe she means we'll weigh at 8:30, so she'll get here at 8!"

I took Mal outside to sit on the porch with me, so that the rest of the family could get some rest. It was raining that morning, and cool enough to be nice. I don't remember there being any mosquitoes.

Mal started fussing around 7:45. I walked with him, and I bounced him. I assured him you were on your way. As the minutes slipped by, I realized you meant you'd actually arrive at 8:30, but I felt like we were so close, I could do this. You'd be there soon. You'd talk to me and maybe it would distract him. It was going to be fine.

Mal started crying for real at about 8:15.

At 8:25, I thought about our housing situation and texted you where you could park without having to pay. Then I watched, looking up and down the street, waiting for you. I didn't know what you were driving, but there were not a lot of cars out. I started waving and smiling to cars inching by like they were looking for something.

ITEM #4: At 8:38, you texted me, "I'm running about 15 minutes late."

I knew we were done.

I texted back, "Don't bother, then. I have to feed him."

Because, frankly, if you said you were 15 minutes late, at this point I was assuming you were half an hour late, and it was already late and my baby had been fussing for an hour, and I was done.

You texted me, "I'm driving in the pouring rain. Are you telling me to turn around and go back home??"

ITEM #5: I just told you I didn't want the consultation. You don't need to "verify" it by putting a guilt trip on me. I can see that it's raining. I've been out here for over an hour. You should have texted me before you ever got into your car. Clearly, you realized you weren't on time. Why not text me when you realized there was no way you'd be there at 8:30, even if it were just 5 minutes before?

In a few minutes, you texted me that you'd pulled over and were ready to talk. You highly recommended that we go ahead with the appointment, but I told you I'd already fed him. He was quiet. He was sleeping. He was content. I did the right thing.

And yet I felt bad.

So I offered to pay you something for your time.

Later, you texted me that your charge for cancellations was half of your fee, and that was a lot more than I'd planned to send you. But I was tired, and I was frustrated, and I didn't need the drama, so I had Chase send you an $85 check... for nothing.

You did tack on an, "Okay, well, feel free to call me if you have any questions."

Doubtful.

ITEM #6: If you're late for an appointment that involves something like withholding food from a newborn, your clients should be able to tell you that you need to reschedule without having to fork over cash for your tardiness. You weren't just late for the early you promised, you were late for the actual appointment, which you knew was going to be difficult enough for me, anyway. YOU were late. And I paid you. Bad form.

In conclusion, I'm sure you're great at what you do. I came to enjoy and, I suppose, expect a certain level of care because of my awesome team of midwives. They would not have affiliations with you if you were not competent and their clients did not like you. Maybe you were just having a bad week. I don't know.

But, again, you have chosen to perform a vocation in which you deal with new mothers. New mothers are emotionally as sensitive to their new world as a baby is to his. Everything feels over the top and scary and discombobulating. I did not want or need tough love at that point.

So, what was the problem?

In the end, I don't think there was one.

I know my kid's latch sucked (or didn't suck?... properly?), and that's probably one reason we had to feed so much and so often. He's still really bad at it, but whatever we're doing is apparently working.

Hope whatever you're doing is working for you, too.

Then and now. Think he's doing okay! Oh, and he likes vanilla almond milk!

A Quick Word About the "Call to Action"

How are you guys feeling about July 4th? Do you kind of feel a a little bruised about America based on the events of the past couple of weeks? There are lots of people with lots of viewpoints, but I feel like most of us have been disappointed either by our fellow Americans or our government or our political process or either our lack of social progress in the past 200 years or what seems like a rocket-ship's speed of progress.

I'm not going to talk about my opinions about any of it, though I definitely do have thoughts. If you want to talk about it, let's meet and talk. No one ever changed his or her mind on a touchy subject (like politics, racism, marriage equality, gun rights, etc.) based on an internet showdown, least of all based on my little blog.

What I wanted to address specifically is one thing that I've seen come up several times on the internet (which, whatever, we're a bunch of random weirdos so just carry on) but also in my social media feeds... and you guys are my friends, and I love you, and I hurt that you hurt, and I also think that you're maybe worried about the wrong things and are maybe thinking that there's something coming and you need to do something, but the thing you're wanting to do isn't the important thing.

Sorry for the vaguery. I genuinely don't want to step on anyone's toes, and I definitely want this post to reflect the love and sympathy I have... maybe I should have done it as a vlog, but I can't talk when my child is asleep, and I don't get a minute to the computer when he's awake, so thanks for bearing with this, and for giving me every benefit of the doubt.

I've seen the following phrases called forth on social media recently: "call to action," "battle lines," and various takes on that kind of thing. If you're one of the ones posting that, may I speak with you for just a moment?

Yes, Jesus called us to action. He did. He said to go and make disciples. In his word, though many writers, he said to stand up for the defenseless (especially widows and orphans). Visit people in prison. Take care of the sick. Feed the hungry. Whatever you do to the least of these, that kind of thing.

However you feel about the Supreme Court's ruling on "gay marriage," allow me to assure you of this one thing: gay people are not your enemy. There is no epic, Cristendom-wide battle against them, or the culture, or any of it. We have one enemy, and that's Satan. He comes to kill, steal, and destroy. If you feel like you HAVE to act or you'll go crazy, I promise you that two people of the same gender getting married should not be your target. Likely, it will not affect you in the least, dire predictions aside.

If you want to be mad, and direct that anger at something productive, join Big Brothers/Big Sisters. Become a Court-Appointed Special Advocate. Go downtown and sit and have a thirty minute conversation with the marginalized transient. Visit a nursing home and take your kids. Volunteer to keep the kids of a single mom you know so she can get out for a while. Mow your elderly neighbor's yard. Find out what you can do to stop child trafficking. Go visit a random person in jail. See if there are opportunities to help out at an unplanned pregnancy center, or food kitchen, or organization that helps women transition out of the sex industry.

These people, good Christians, they NEED you.

You know what else? I need you.

I feel useless so often, unable to get a shower some second (or even third) days, because I have such a high needs baby. It breaks my heart to think that anyone who might have the time and righteous anger to spare is going after something that has been around for years and only now has an official seal of approval from the government (and, honestly, who cares about the government? I don't think it should license, approve, incentivize, or be any part of marriage in any way, but that's another subject).

So get out there. Show me how awesome it is. Then hound me, and make me realize that I *do* have time. I do. I need to get out there myself. I need to love more, and to serve more. And stop making excuses. And, frankly, to expect all of you to change so I can feel better about myself.

Believe me, I get you. I get that it hurts to think that your deity is being disregarded, but God doesn't need our defense. We're not called to defend "our" way or to stand up as a big bloc to the nations. The zealots expected that, and Rome was far worse than the US, but Jesus was apolitical. There was never any call to fight against the corrupt government or culture. Not one mention of it, by way of instruction or example.

Please stop predicting that this one thing is going to call down God's judgment on us as a nation. First of all, the United States isn't Israel, Part II; we don't have a covenant with God like they did. I don't know what God's "blessings" on our country that people are decrying will end even mean. Secondly, we've committed some government-sanctioned atrocities in the past 200 years, and we're still here. Genuine, robbing-of-freedom and taking-of-lives for no reason stuff. Actions that have pretended that every person is not a person bearing God's likeness. And we persist as a nation.

Even Rome managed to hang around for a good several hundred years after the death of Christ and ensuing persecution of Christians. And those WERE God's people, yet he didn't smite Rome. Those people just sat around and thought up torture for amusement. There is zero way that our country's atmosphere is worse or more deserving of divine punishment.

So don't worry, don't sound alarms that will make you... make us look foolish later.

Please.

If you're just so mad you feel like you have to do something, please do. But why not do something that will leave a legacy of love, so that maybe people will look back at this time in the future and say, "Wow, they really stepped up and helped change the culture." In a good way. In a way that people cannot deny is loving and helpful. Maybe even, "I did not expect that," with smiles on their faces?

Please.

Pics from Our New Place

This post will likely be interesting only to far-flung family, but if you're not one of them and still want to hang out, then pull up a chair and we'll begin the presentation.

When I was taking pictures today, I noticed two things:

1) Now that we have storage, we use it! Our enclosed storage places are crammed to the gills with stuff; it already looks like we've been here for years. Then again, we did get about eight months' worth of cleaning supplies on accident this week. On the other hand, we were very minimalist about our open spaces, keeping them... well, open. Even though we have more square feet here, we got rid of several items of furniture. I think we were just ready to be able to move around without having to skirt inanimate objects.

2) Our apartment looks kind of like my college apartment, when I would do things like make a stylized wall mural of a garden out of construction paper during my down time at work. Some of my friends post pictures taken inside of their houses, and the homes look like they could be in a magazine, or that their art could be hanging in a museum, or that their furniture was goblin made and will only attract that which imbues it with more power. Or something like that.

Our place isn't like that. It's full of things that have sentimental value to us, or make us happy. I looked around and saw things made by my mom, James, Daphne, myself, James' mom (a LOT of stuff), my friend Jana, my niece Mackenzie, a lady here in Austin I've never met but feel like I know because of her awesome Etsy store, a talented artist we had the privilege of meeting in Haiti, and even a quilt started by my dad's mom and then finished by his stepmom when his mother passed away. Then there are things that used to be James' grandmother's (our couch, the toaster oven, that wobbly green cup), or things in Mal's room that were Daphne's, mementos from our wedding, the Wall of Awesome II (Team Dave's version), gifts to me from James, toys from both James' and my childhood, etc.

And our place will never be in a magazine, but it's "us" and I love it. I hope you like it, too!

P.S. It occurred to me AFTER I took the pictures that I could have turned on more lights in the front rooms and they wouldn't have looked so "blue," but I never turn on the lights in those rooms and didn't think of it! I <3 natural light!

The entryway, with an homage to The Nuthaus. That awesome old chest has all of our games in it, and since my dear housemates will take off their shoes at the door (here, it's better for the carpet, anyway), we're putting them on top of the chest.

Needlepoint of my favorite Bible verse by my mom, key holder by James when he was in maybe middle school, picture and other Nuthaus remnant from James' mom, and an homage to the RV my friend Lauren gave us before we left Sherman. Good stuff. Oh! And an entry closet for coats and our vacuum. I know that might not be exciting to you, but it's pretty thrilling to this gal!

The living/dining/kitchen. Carol reluctantly welcomes you.

Right as you walk into the main part of the apartment.

Above the couch is our "Haiti wall": Three pictures I took when we were there, and then a painting by Cadet Richard. To keep the country in our thoughts all of the time, and to remind us that we need to go back as a family. 

To save floor real estate, we stacked! Here, there's a bookshelf that used to be in our bedroom on top of a shelving unit that was in the dining room. Then we also put one piece of a bookshelf from Daphne's room sideways, the only way it would fit. It works!

The kitchen...

...with all of its glorious cabinets! Oh, and we ordered plate hangers today. James' mom gave him a set of plates from the 25th WDW anniversary, and we're going to display them above the top cabinets.

I have a pretty awesome view from the kitchen, not counting the cat's butt.

The kitchen features a real, live pantry, believe it or not!

And the laundry room is the most ridiculously packed place already! Washer, litter box, recycling, and dryer.

Plus our cleaning supplies, tools, Christmas stuff, memorabilia from James' and my 40 years of pre-married life... 

... more cleaning supplies, cat provisions, bags (you have to take your own to the grocery store in Austin), and beer-brewing supplies.

Then there's our room. we bought a king-sized bed. We realized, finally, that Mal will probably be sleeping with us a bit longer. We put the bookshelves that used to be in the living room in here.

Have I mentioned that we have a great view?

All by Daphne: pencil, marker, and ink tile.

The print on the right is one James had bought because he loved it, and I had it framed for him last year (after he'd had it for several years!). It's called "Leaning Lovers." so I paired it with a few of our own things; two photo books, one from when we first started dating and one from our wedding; the rose and ribbons that were attached to my wedding dress; and the heart we saw a blacksmith make at a Celtic music fair.

Next to the bookshelves is a set of doors that looks like a little closet.

But it's actually a magic portal into another dimension. Well, okay, it's two closets and a bathroom.

The closet to the left, jammed tight with all of our clothes. We needed to save the other closet space...

...for James' office!

And here's our bathroom, home of the best shower curtain ever, and one more of the three litter boxes. (And, yes, I LOVE our new litter boxes!)

The hallway going to D's room and bathroom (which is also the guest bathroom).

Daphne's humble abode.

The new desk ended up being a perfect fit with her bed! And she can look at herself in the mirror if she needs to reference a facial expression. She just has to access her closet through the right door.

She downsized a lot of stuff when we moved! But there are probably close to 100 stuffies in her closet. She loves her stuffed animals.

Little buddy's room.

What? How did this happen?! Two Mals?

Since Mal's just a baby and doesn't have an opinion about that kind of thing, his closet became storage for a lot of our stuff. James' guitars, amps, a heater, and some other stuff is in there. Also, several cool toys D has outgrown but that I want to save for him, and also all of the free Pull-Ups (8 bags) that we ended up getting for free (see previous post).

Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the patio. I'm just going to post some pictures and you'll get the idea. Thanks for touring our new place! 

Okay, this is technically the view from Mal's room. Nice, huh?

WE ARE UNPACKED!

Sorry for the yelling, but OH MY GOSH, what a week. We had the Bungo Boxes unpacked by Tuesday afternoon (thanks to my awesome parents who spent the weekend hanging out with Mal, then keeping him busy Monday morning and THEN kicking bootay unpacking Monday afternoon), and this weekend, James got his book situation handled, so we're in and it's already home!

There will be pictures within the next couple of days, I promise. This is the textual account of our move. :D

It's actually been a sort of on-and-off stressful week, but nothing that we can't or haven't handled.

Movers moved our stuff Monday. As I was coming up the stairs to let them in, a sweet older lady from downstairs came out and called to me, "I'm going to need you to come down here so I can see that baby." I guess she and her daughter (who is probably a bit younger than my parents, but not by much) had been watching us move in over the past month, and she wanted to meet Mal in person. I love her already, and now that we're all set up, plan to visit her after I bake some brownies or something. She is the person on whose patio I saw the cardinal who inspired me to get a bird feeder! She also puts out carrots, so she ends up with rabbits. Seems like an interesting lady.

Monday night, we realized that our water heater's pilot light wasn't on. Tuesday morning, I tried to turn it on, but to no avail. A maintenance person came to turn it on for us, and don't ask me how we didn't realize our hot water wasn't working until Friday afternoon, but we didn't. I know I took at least one more shower between Monday and Friday, but maybe the water was "un-cold" enough, I just didn't think much about it. Another maintenance guy came out Friday afternoon and said the pilot light was still lit, but the heater had to be turned up all the way or the water wouldn't get warm. Well, guess what? It's still not warm!

That is the one and only good thing about moving during the summer: It hasn't been too offensive, cold-wise. I've been taking Haiti showers, using a cup and bathing with Mal to kill two proverbial birds. Friday night, we boiled two pots of water to take the edge off. Tonight, it was again "not cold," even though it wasn't hot, either. It wasn't even lukewarm. It was just tolerable. So I'll have to call them again tomorrow. At least we know they respond quickly, as we've had a few issues.

The next thing is that Saturday week, we were supposed to get a Prime Pantry order from Amazon. We didn't, though they said it was delivered. I asked our neighbor if they'd taken it, but they hadn't. Monday, my dad checked the mailbox (where the USPS said they'd left it) and there were no keys. Using the Amazon app, I requested a replacement, which they sent, no questions asked. It was supposed to be here Thursday.

Another thing that was supposed to be here Thursday was a wi-fi signal booster for D's room. She hadn't been able to connect to the internet on her desktop since we moved in. This is a big deal for my gamer/social media girl. She had been hardwired at the house, so this was already a huge change.

Thursday night, I get the notification that the stuff has been delivered, so D and I drove down to the mailbox (it's more than 1/3 of a mile from the apartment, and we were expecting a big box) and guess what? Nothing. I called Amazon this time, and they said they'd replace both, and that the Pantry box would be here by Saturday and the wi-fi booster would be here by Monday. Ugh. No. I told them to cancel both orders and I'd just go to the store. He asked, "Are you sure you want to do that?" I told him that of course I didn't! But why was I to believe that they would be here this time? He said they were sending them UPS, which delivers to the door, but I canceled, anyway. Ugh.

That night, Daphne and I went to Best Buy to get a booster. Mal was not please, apparently crying the whole time I was gone, except for 30 second breaks here and there (poor James!). Also, the booster didn't work. James worked on that for a while, too, and said that her network adapter was the problem, so we ordered a USB network adapter antenna. Yes, from Amazon. I didn't have the heart to get back out.

The next day, Mal and I went to Target to get some cleaning supplies that were supposed to have come in the Amazon haul.

When we got home, both James and I received an email from our apartment office that three boxes had arrived for us (cue "I see what's coming"). James went over to pick it up, and, sure enough, it was TWO identical (except for padding) Prime Pantry boxes, and that booster.

First, we'd already given the booster up as a bad job. But the cleaning supplies! Good gravy. We have 4 Swiffer Wet Jet refills, 3 duster refills, 3 Swiffer dry refills, 2 boxes of trash bags, 2 boxes of recycling bags, about 10 hand soaps, 6 boxes of Pull-Ups, 2 boxes of night Pull-Ups, etc. So. Much. Stuff. Fortunately, I don't like going to the store, so storing them is actually preferable. Then there's the fact that except for what I bought at Target, it was all free. That's right, they'd already processed my refund before I received all of the stuff, but since the delivery person messed it up, we're all square. And I'm mostly happy with Amazon again, nasty vacuum cleaner notwithstanding. I just wish they'd always use UPS.

A beautiful picture to break up the monotony. This happened Tuesday afternoon.

So, Daphne's internet. Saturday, we got the USB antenna. Guess what? NOTHING. Late that evening, my super cool brother-in-law came over and did two things: First, he brought two of his older kids, who entertained Mal and me for half an hour or so. That was great. But second, he fixed the problem! He actually hardwired Daphne's computer into a power outlet, and it works because science, I guess. I wasn't there, I don't know. All I know is that I haven't seen Daphne in 24 hours, as per usual, so that must be a good sign, internet-wise.

Actually, since we moved in, Daphne has hung out and chatted with me almost every day for an hour or so, and that's a huge change. We let her put her computer in her room with this move (I know; all child development experts say don't, but she stays up so late, we don't watch her online for several hours per day, anyway... and we can see what she's seen because, again, science; and she knows we can always change that permission), and I think she's being more sociable on purpose, so we don't decide she's too much of a hermit and pull the computer back out. Honestly, it works better for everyone. It was difficult for her to make Skype calls (which she does when she's gaming a lot) in our living room; either we had to be quiet, or she couldn't really have a conversation.

Anyway, I love talking to her. I love her perspective. I love that she has opinions she's actually researched. She's a pretty cool kid.

Mal has been probably dealing with this move, some teething, and tons of milestones this week, which has made him cranky, restless, and demanding... except when he's not. When he's happy, he's happy and darling. But he's deciding not to be a lot right now. I think he was also a bit sick for a while, and the whole thing has been blurgh. I'm hoping for a better week for him, and by extension, for me. I'm just grateful he was so terrific on moving day! A lot of that was because there were two other very enthusiastic adults watching and playing with him. He really connected with Nana and maybe especially Pappy this weekend, so I have high hopes when we go see family this winter that he'll warm up to them in no time!

Milestones: actually looking at/"talking" about pictures in a book; doing stuff he knows he's not supposed to by checking that we're looking first, grinning like the cat that ate the canary, and getting on with it; removing and putting back on a defective lid on one of his cups (he saved this one for James, who I'm glad got to see it first!). Probably more, but I'm running out of steam!

I've has asthma symptoms on and off all week, likely a combination of stress, having carpet (which I LOVE), and all of the crap we're stirring up in our unpacking. Earlier this week, I knocked it out by taking a bike ride. This morning, it was worse, and I was so tired, with Mal being so fussy, that when I tried to strap him into the baby carrier, I couldn't close the latch behind me because holding my arms up to do so smothered me; I could not breathe. So James spent the day trying to find an OTC asthma remedy I'd used before. My last albuterol inhaler ran out earlier this week, but the final couple of dozen doses did nothing for me, and even the first didn't help a whole lot. Back in the day, sucking on an inhaler felt like a miracle at that first puff. You could just feel your chest loosening, airways opening up. Not anymore. It's so so stupid. I'm pretty sure the CFCs in those inhalers did not have much of an environmental impact, Plus, some people's asthma is bad enough that they die, so making meds less effective seems counterproductive to me.

Anyway, James came back with ephidrine tablets, so I'm on those and loratadine until this clears up. Feeling much better tonight. AND I got another bike ride in.

Riding around here is going to be a challenge. It's all hills. Tuesday, I rode around the complex a couple of times, then up into a neighborhood behind us, and around a loop trail. Today, I was going to repeat it, only backwards, but where I should have turned into the loop, someone had a big dog I didn't feel like going around, so I stayed on the trail and ended up in the back of their neighborhood. I was able to ride around and get back home, and it was about the same length as my first ride, but with different scenery. Lots of gear-shifting, even using gears I practically never use. And Mal loves it.

At this point, we now know the mom/daughter who live caddy-corner under us, the family of what I believe to be a mom, young adult daughter, and young adult son who live next door, and a couple with a 7-year-old daughter who live directly beneath us. That's it for our end of the building. I also met a gentleman who lives on the other side of the building as he was out walking his dog last night and Mal and I were on the balcony. It's cool to know so many people already!

Off of the balcony, we have seen many birds, including cardinals (at least one couple and another few assorted males and females) and, yesterday, a woodpecker; rabbits; squirrels; and yesterday, a beautiful coyote! The cats have all gotten outside and enjoy it immensely. I hope they see the coyote sometime, lest the get the idea that they should go on a walkabout in the trees!

Then there was the rainbow the other afternoon, and there has been lightning pretty much every night since we moved in. Our view is beautiful, and I wonder if I'll ever get tired of watching birds, and clouds, and whatever else pops up out there.

On with the adventure...

Advice to a Recent Father

Tonight, I ran across a discussion while I was digging back through mailing list archives to try to see what I've been missing. I haven't had much time lately (even less than usual, thanks to the move).

The basic gist was open-source politics. One respondent really wanted to help, but he has a 4 month old baby. I started this as a PM to him, then changed my mind and decided that it'd make a lot more sense here:

My baby just turned 9 months old. He's starting to have a personality and interact and actually be fun.

I think he had colic from about 2-5 months. I loved him then, but he really was neither interesting nor fun. Then he jumped straight into screaming about his teeth.

I'm pretty sure he started growing molars this week, which is miserable. But...he's turned into a little person who's exploring the world, figuring out ways to do things that we don't want (and laughing about it!), and is

way easier to *like* than that squalling infant who wasn't mobile enough to get into everything we thought was safe.

I'm not saying it's any easier (I'm sure it is, but I've forgotten most of that time frame*). But I started getting positive feedback a month or so ago. And now he's starting to figure out basic mechanical stuff.**

I don't know anything about you or yours, so I really hope that I'm not stepping into something noxious by sending you this out of the blue.

But you should be on the short part of the uphill slope before the ride starts getting enjoyable.

I'm really hoping we're actually past that part, though the past week suggests otherwise.***

Then again, Mal's had a rough week.

* This part was a lie. I vividly remember pacing back and forth our block, with Mal in his carrier, screaming, so Laura could get a shower

** Tonight, he managed to pop the top off his universal straw thing (it lets him hydrate at any angle, but the lid that hides the straw wasn't built very well), put it back on (which, according to Laura, is a first), and then open and close it a few times. Laura's ready for him to stop having these sorts of milestones for a while so they can get some sleep)

*** Moving's tough on everyone! This is the point where I decided to publish here instead of sending a total stranger notes about my parenting (such as it is).