Ms. Mama

Ms. Mama Signing Out...

2006-03-29T08:17:00.000+02:00

I have been debating for the last few months if I should keep going with this blogging stuff. Finally last night I made my decision, I am retiring this blog, placing it on the shelf with all those other blogs not so long ago shut down.

I am too overly critical of myself to actually enjoy writing a quality post (with the constant checking to see if anyone at all replied), and am a bit too private to truly share my life with the internet. Just the thought of this blog and my lack of posts fills me with dread and this is not why I started to blog at all. I have met some incredible people blogging, and I am very happy I did venture into the blogsphere. I do plan to continue visiting your blogs and to comment as always, I just can not keep posting my life and opinions to what often feels like a big huge abyss.

So this is me, signing out. Thank you for all your wonderful comments and support over the last months, I will miss that...

She just keeps growing up

2006-03-21T19:50:00.000+01:00

What happened to that helpless baby I brought home from the hospital less than 10 months ago? She has changed seemingly overnight into an amazing little person. Sometimes, when she can't sit still for a moment even to get her diaper changed, I long for that little baby who would lay for hours on end sleeping on my chest. But then she exclaims "at!" as she chases the cat across room or babbles "mamamamamama" when done with her nap and my heart seems to explode with love for this incredible little girl. She never ceases to amaze me.

Please Stop...

2006-03-21T09:55:00.000+01:00

Dearest Internet,

I kindly ask you to stop making me cry. I am having enough problems breathing through my nose as it is without you sending me into tears and further stuffiness and nose blowing.

Dearest Fates,

I ask you to please look over all my internet friends and keep them healthy and happy. They do not deserve all this sadness and tragedy.

Sincerely,

Ms. Mama

Stacie, I hope that Faith's health rapidly improves and she proves the doctors all wrong. You deserve a happy healthy baby girl, hang in there. My thoughts are with you.

Amanda, I am at a loss for words. I hope one day you are at peace with Eric's passing and you can remember all the good times you two shared. Your time together was too short, yet your message changed our lives and our picture of people living with cancer.

Eric W. Shaffer, 7/21/81-3/17/06 - May you rest in peace.

Don't let Eric's message fade away, tell your senators and congressmen to say NO to the Bush administration's proposed cuts to cancer research funding.

Snot...

2006-03-20T08:13:00.000+01:00

Why didn't anyone warn me that having a child would mean that I would spend the entire winter struck down by one illness or another? Mr. P and I woke up yesterday, our heads filled with snot, our throats raw and our joints aching. Pumpkin seems to be a tad bit better, her nose at least has turned down the faucet of boogers, but I just want to crawl back into my warm bed with a bowl of chicken soup... I can't imagine how sick we would all be if Pumpkin went to daycare! She is around other kids once or twice a week for a few hours at playgroups, and I am sure she brought this cold home from the group we attended last Tuesday. If she went to daycare I am sure she would be bringing home something much worse - ebola, bird flu or such!

Now the question is, do I skip playgroup tomorrow (assuming I am a bit less icky) since we still have a bit of the cold? What is proper playgroup etiquette - colds can last for weeks - do I isolate us for the entire time to avoid doing this to some other poor family?

A bit quiet

2006-03-17T16:06:00.000+01:00

I know I have been a bit quiet lately. There actually is a lot going on right now, and I would love to write about it all, but there seems to be a sort of traffic jam in my head since every time I sit down to write a post nothing comes out.

Many of you were surprised that we had not yet informed Mr. P's parents of the move. Since this is his family I left all timing up to Mr. P, and he wanted to wait until there was no doubt in our heads of the move. I fully understood and supported this. Mr. P is very close with his family and he knew how hard this news would be taken, there was no reason to be premature. However since we have moved onto hiring a realtor he needed to tell them ASAP. So Wednesday evening after work he went to his folks for dinner and told them of our plans. Needless to say there were many tears and afterwards much silence. They not only were upset that we were leaving, but also saw our plans as foolishly risky. They could not understand how we could give up everything we have - a house, a good job, and enough security which allows me to stay at home - to move to somewhere where we have no home or form of work waiting for us (as of now). We know it will all work out, and we know we need to take the risk, but it is not easy to explain to anyone, especially those who are hurt most by the news. Mr. P came home that night feeling terrible. He felt like an awful person - an ass hole in his own words. He is feeling a bit better now. I just hope they are comming to terms with the news.

Yesterday we met with three realtors, and after weighing them against each other we decided on the one we would hire. It seems the market is not as good as we had thought and we will not be asking as much as we had hoped, but the news was not bad either. He seemed to think we should be able to sell relatively quick, and that the expectation of leaving in September is not crazy early. The realtor is putting together our contract and after we sign he will take photos for the brochures, internet sites and advertisements. I expect the house to be on the market before April 1st. Keep your fingers crossed we get lots of good offers very quick!

I have to go now though, Pumpkin has a icky cold and I have to go fight her to wipe the crusty boogers from her face. I promise to post sooner rather than later!

Photo Shoot - 9 1/2 months

2006-03-12T20:32:00.000+01:00

I figured I owed you guys some new photos of Pumpkin, so here they are, a selection from our "photo shoot" last week. I am quite happy with my latest shots - my gal does not look like a baby anymore... They do grow up way to fast!

Move Progress Report

2006-03-11T10:11:00.000+01:00

Although we have been traveling and then sick - there has been much progress made towards our move back to the US. While Pumpkin and I were enjoying the sunny weather back in California, Mr. P was keeping himself plenty busy by crossing things off the to-do list I left him. In the evenings and weekends he was able to not only cross off all the home repair things I had listed for him to do, but also made headway into some jobs I figured we would tackle together upon my return. Now that the last few jobs are being completed (I never want to see a can of paint again in my life!) the house is ready to be placed on the market.

This coming Thursday we have three realtors stopping by to look at the house and present to us what they will do to sell our home and for what cost. We figure that by Friday we will have chosen a realtor and the house will be placed on the market. If we get an offer and the sale contract is signed before June 1^st, we could be moving as soon as August 1^st. I am excited and terrified at the same time!

Aside from the house sale we also have been dealing with Mr. P’s Immigrant Visa (commonly called a green card although it is actually white). After I filed the petition in January we received a folder full of paperwork in the post and we have been working our way through the stack. Everything is now filled out; we are just waiting on a police report from the UK stating that Mr. P is not wanted for any crime from his year long residence in Bristol. Once we receive that we will send in the “ready” form and Mr. P will be given a referral to a doctor for various medical checks (he already got all his shots updated as required by the US for the visa) as well as the appointment for his final interview at the American Consulate. The final interview seems to be a mere formality, and as long as we have all the paperwork he should walk out of the consulate with the green light and a 6 month time period to enter the US. He will not actually have the visa however until we arrive in the US.

Of course there are many small issues we need to tackle that are linked with the move and they will actually be the hard part. But it is nice to see progress and be checking things off our list. Before we know it we will be packing to leave!

Next step, telling Mr. P’s parents - I will be sure to let you know how that goes!

Proof

2006-03-08T20:40:00.000+01:00

This photo is proof of just how sick we have been in the Ms. Mama household. First Pumpkin was sick, then a day later I started puking too.

Finally Pumpkin - who spent days upon days wanting to do nothing but lay on my chest (like in the photo) while I wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a ball and die - is back to her old self. After days of not eating more than a few spoonfuls of soup and a few bites of toast, I too am finally all better and also a few pounds lighter (yipee!).

Then yesterday, just as Mr. P was happily bragging that he survived the puke fest, he decided he would not skip the party after all. Perhaps next week we will be all back to normal?

Hippo Diet

2006-03-08T07:57:00.000+01:00

I am joining in on The Queen of Spain's Hippo Diet. As I discussed a few posts back, while I have managed to loose my pregnancy pounds, I somehow have a fat pocket sitting in that area under my belly button. My goal is to loose an inch off this area. I do not pretend to think I can do this in just one month (hell if it was this easy it would be gone already right?), but to be rid of it before Pumpkin turns 1 in May.

The queen requests that I post a photo of myself, but not having a recent shot I prefer to post what I want to look like again. This is a shot of me the day I got my positive pregnancy test, when at 4 weeks Pumpkin was simply a bunch of dividing cells. This is the belly (or lack there of) that I want back.

Since Pumpkin passed her stomach bug onto me I am already off to a good start. Three days of no eating means I am already 3 lbs lighter!

Mommy Wars?

2006-03-04T21:25:00.000+01:00

A few weeks back, while visiting my family in the states, I flipped on the television and randomly tuned to Good Morning America. I tuned in just in time to catch a segment called “Mommy Wars” with my oh so favorite woman of the moment – Linda Hirshman.

My first reaction was “what the hell, am I at war with other mommies?” I never felt that I was at war, and I am sure most moms agree with me. Or are there mommies slugging each other in the baby food isle at the supermarket, throwing dirty diapers at each other in the playgrounds? As I watched on, and listened to Ms. Hirshman blame women who stay at home for “destroying feminism” I just got more and more angry. Who was this woman to tell mothers what they should be doing? Isn’t telling a mom that she should stick her kid in daycare and go work 40 hours plus per week to break through that glass ceiling on behalf of all womankind just the same as telling a woman that she belongs at home barefoot and pregnant, scrubbing the toilets and waiting with dinner ready for her husband to come home?

I have always considered myself a feminist, but according to Linda Hirshman I am actually destroying the cause because I, a university educated woman (whom she calls elite to my utter enjoyment), has chosen to stay at home with my daughter instead of going to work outside the home. Wow, amazing that what I thought was the very IDEA of feminism – choice – has made me the cause’s enemy. To me feminism is about putting women on equal footing with men - in the office and at home. Feminism fought for my right to earn a degree, and to go to work. It fought for my right to make reproductive choices (and vote for politicians who support those choices) so I could decide when I wanted to become a mother. Feminism fought - and is still fighting hard for - access to affordable daycare so women can go to work after they have children. Didn’t feminism also fight for my right to choose my life path? To be able to choose to stay home if that was my desire?

I could go to work right now if I wanted to; no one is keeping me at home except me. While Mr. P is exceedingly happy that one of us can stay at home to care for our daughter (as am I), he would fully support me if I had decided to go back to work, either part or full time. He is not forcing me into any “less flourishing sphere” against my will, and I am not “unjustly” assigning it to myself. I love being able to devote myself to my daughter, to help her grow into a strong confident young woman. I am glad that I have that option; many women do not. Many women are single moms who have to go to work or lose the roof over their heads, even if they are barely making ends meet working two jobs and barely seeing their children. Many families can’t afford to survive on a single income and both parents have to go to work, while perhaps one would love to stay at home. Shouldn’t Linda, if she really is so concerned about a mother’s status, fight to make sure women who want to go to work can afford to do so, with daycare options and flexible hours – and shouldn’t she likewise fight so that women (and men too of course!) who wish to stay home also have the option to do so?

What angers me the most though about Ms. Hirshman, is that she pretends to know what makes me happy and what does not. She states that I must be bored mentally at home, that I can not be possibly happy unless working my way up the corporate ladder, furthering my career. Perhaps that is what makes her happy, but it is not for me, and it never really was. I gave up a “great” career in advertising long before Pumpkin was even thought of because I could not stand the cut throat nature of the business and the god awful office politics. I did not see myself fighting my way to the top, it just was not me. In fact I never had a job I loved until now. I love seeing my daughter grow up, being able to teach her things and show her the world. I love that every day she can count on her mama being there. Perhaps as Pumpkin gets older I will decide to work from home or part time while she is in school, but my first job is and always will be Mom. Am I the anti-feminist because of this? Am I a shame to all “elite – college educated” women? I don’t think so. In fact I think I am exercising my feminist right to choose my life and my career. If you disagree please feel free to toss a dirty diaper at me the next time you see me by the sandbox.

Puke, puke and more puke

2006-03-02T09:45:00.000+01:00

I had a big post planned for today about Linda Hirshman and my take on her declaration about SAHM's. But last night Pumpkin started vomiting and everything else stopped.

We knew something was up, she had sick breath the last few days - you know that smell that gives away something is coming. When I smell that breath on Mr. P I start forcing echinecia down his throat, and he likewise warns me when I get sick breath so I can dose myself up. But since she can not pop pills yet we were left only waiting with Pumpkin, hoping it would just be a cold. Then last night we were sitting on the couch reading when we heard a strange cough followed by a cry over the baby monitor. I knew immediately that she had puked. We both ran upstairs to find a baby covered in her own vomit. I took pumpkin and cleaned her up while Mr. P changed her sheets. We then put her back in bed and waited. About 11:00 I woke up to Mr. P jumping out of bed, she had puked again. This time was less, and baby wipes took care of the cleanup. Then nothing all night. I was hopeful this morning when I got her out of bed, till she started to dry heave. Then I knew it would be no calm day.

I skipped cereal this morning and gave pumpkin a bottle, just hoping to keep her hydrated. She drank half and then laid down on my chest. After about 15 minutes I put her down so I could pee, and just as I unbuttoned my pants I heard the unmistakable sound of vomit. I ran out of the bathroom, pants hanging off my hips, to find her sitting in a puddle of puke. My poor baby had puke running out her nose. She just looked at me and whimpered. My poor baby...

A bit later I decided to try again and gave her the rest of her bottle. She drank it greedily and laid back down on my chest. Less than 5 minutes later the milk came back up. All over her, all over me, all over the couch. Amazing how I normally start heaving at even the sound of puke, but I sat there covered in her vomit only calmly stroking her back and telling her it was OK. Only after comforting her and changing her and cleaning the couch did I notice the vomit dripping off my body. Only then did I decide it was best to just change back into my PJs - it is definitely going to be one of those days...

We're Back

2006-02-28T08:00:00.000+01:00

After an awful afternoon at SFO and an overly LONG packed flight we arrived back -exausted- yesterday afternoon. I will NEVER EVER EVER EVER fly with a baby alone again, please make sure to remind me of this if I ever get such a silly idea in my head again!

I'll post a real post very soon, but now Pumpkin and I are going to take another nap :-)

Heading Home

2006-02-25T18:24:00.000+01:00

We are flying back to Holland tomorrow. While this has been a wonderful trip, with great weather and lots of company, I am happy to be heading home. I miss my husband terribly and I miss having my own things around me - doing things in my own way at my own pace. It is always hard staying with other people in their homes, especially when that person is my mother. It seems no matter how old I am, even if I have my own kids, I will always be reduced back to the feeling of a child when at my mother's house.

But the best thing about going home now is that the timeline for our move really starts to pick-up. Mr. P has been busy fixing up all those little things at the house, and in a few weeks we will be calling realtors. The house across from us just sold in less than a week for a VERY good price so we are optimistic that we will be able to sell the house and move by September as planned. The next time I arrive in California we will not be visiting but moving-in. So leaving is not so hard this time, knowing that we will be back soon for good.

Goodbye California, will be back very soon....

Feeling Fat

2006-02-18T22:30:00.000+01:00

Ever since pumpkin was born I have been carrying around this extra layer of flab at my waistline. People always said my body would be changed by the pregnancy, I just did not know I would feel so unhappy with the new motherly me. At first I figured it would go away, my body took 9 months to get to the point that I looked like I swallowed a whole watermelon, I could not expect it to go back in a month. But it has been almost nine months since I gave birth and when I look in the mirror I still see someone else's body.

I lost all my pregnancy weight in six weeks so I am unsure of where this blubber came from. My ass sure does not look any smaller, my legs are not any leaner. Perhaps my boobs are a bit less perky, but they still fill my pre-pregnancy bras. How can I be the same weight as I was before yet have at least 2 inches of additional fat on my belly? And how the hell do I get rid of it!? We are going to Tuscany this summer with friends and I would like to feel comfortable in a swimsuit. Not a bikini or anything, I am not asking for miracles. But I would like to not have to hide behind towels and wraps the entire trip. I would like to feel slightly confident in my appearance.

Before this holiday I started doing tae-bo and pilates videos in the hope that I may be able to shed that fat and tone up my abs. I know if I stick to it they should work, but I can't help but want some instant fix, a DIY liposuction or something. I want to go clothes shopping here and not cry when I stand in the changing room under those awful fluorescent lights. I want to not have to wonder what everyone is thinking when they see me now - do they think I am fat? - that I have let myself go? I want my body back - is that too much to ask?

A bit of everything and nothing

2006-02-15T23:05:00.000+01:00

Most often my visits to California are packed full long before I even board the plane in Amsterdam. My agenda is full of dates with various friends and commitments with my family. And given the short time we give such visits, we usually cram as much as we can into ten short days. Anyone who lives far from family and has to make visits like mine know that such a trip is no vacation. Everyone is pulling to see you, and once is never enough. When it comes to my (long divorced) parents, it is almost as if it is being kept track of, carefully tallied how many minutes each one gets to see me. To my mom, simply staying in her home - eating dinner together, seeing eachother every morning after waking - is not enough, we must do something - go out - for it to be considered tallied time. And to my dad, time can only be spent while trekking along muddy poison oak infested trails even though no one but him enjoys it.

This trip I decided would be different. Since Mr. P was staying at home and I am no longer working for the establishment, I did not have to pay mind to vacation days and limit my stay. I chose to stay for 3 weekends, about as long as I could imagine being without Mr. P, and he could bear being away from Pumpkin. I also made no plans, wrote nothing into my agenda before my arrival. I am taking it easy, figuring I will always disappoint someone who wants to see me more anyways, so why make myself crazy trying to divide my time between everyone with no thought to myself? One thing a day, one commitment at most. Pumpkin naps in her bed as often as possible, and we plan visits around her schedule. I am also trying to limit how my parents manipulate me, make me feel guilty over what I do with the other, and what I may not want to do at all. So far it is working. The hardest was putting my foot down with my father and avoiding a 1 hour drive followed by a long hike just to have a picnic, while there was a perfectly good park 10 minutes away. But I did it, and I am taking it easy. It may not be a vacation, but it does not mean I should not enjoy myself just a bit...

PS - I have been working my way through my sisters book collection and just finished My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult. If you want a good book pick this one up - trust me you will not be able to put it down, I sure couldn't. It is a real tear jerker though so have a box of tissues handy when reading.

Having Fun...

2006-02-14T23:53:00.000+01:00

Need I say more :-)

We made it!

2006-02-13T04:37:00.000+01:00

We arrived in San Francisco - and in one piece. Actually the flight went amazingly well despite the fact that Pumpkin slept only 1 hour total from the time we woke her in the morning till the time she was placed in her carseat in the rental car in San Francisco. By the end of the flight even the young stewards were coming to hold my lil lady. She barely cried at all, and smiled at every single person to look her way. And then, as if she had not already convinced me that she was the perfect child, she has proceeded to sleep through the night (with only a few night mumbles) from the first evening here. How could I have got so lucky? I will not be having any more children, Pumpkin is an absolute angel, so any subsequent child would have to be the devil himself!

I almost cried as I drove through San Francisco to the Golden Gate on my way to my mom's house. I am so happy we will be moving back here. There is an air and a feel to that city that calls to me. I wish I could just stay and not have to go back to Holland at all! And the weather! It is absolutely gorgeous! I have not worn my jacket since we arrived, and today Pumkin was at the park with bare legs and arms! Oh how I love the California climate - why did I ever leave!

Pumpkin has been spoiled already, and everyone dotes on her completely. She is really enjoying herself, and it is great to see her get all excited when my mom walks into the room. My grandparents are also under their great grandbaby's charm, they could not get enough of her squeals today. I am seeing my dad tomorrow, and while that is always a bit difficult and strained it will be nice to see him with Pumpkin again. Other than that no real plans, just chilling and shopping and visiting with old friends. Hope all is well with my blogworld pals!

And we're off

2006-02-09T13:36:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow morning Pumpkin and I head off for a few weeks of fun in California. The bags have been packed and are ready to go. Grandma could not be more excited. She had the highchair and crib set up already last weekend and has called me numerous times just to check if we need anything else. The last time she saw Pumpkin was in September, and a lot has changed since then! I can definitely understand her excitement.

While I am not looking forward to the insanely long flight I am excited to have a break for myself. I figure I will have tons of time to relax while Pumpkin is handed from one eager relative to the next. Plus I can have Starbucks and Noahs Bagels, dump a load of cash in Baby Gap and Banana Republic and stuff myself silly with my mom's home cooking and Mexican food. I guess that is worth 10 hours in coach with a 8 month old...

I will post about the flight once I get settled and can bribe my brother to let me use his computer. Think of me tomorrow!

Army crawl or wounded soldier?

2006-02-08T13:44:00.000+01:00

I am absolutely giddy with sleep! I slept 11 whole hours last night, and my body is unsure of how to handle this much rest. I can not sit still, I feel like I have downed 4 grande double mocas! Ah, sleep, how I missed you...

In other non sleep related news, Pumpkin started to do the army crawl. To me it looks less like a solder crawling stealthily past the enemy unnoticed and more like a soldier seriously wounded dragging his crippled body to safety. I can not help but laugh as Pumpkin joyfully drags all 18lbs of her weight by one arm. I know I have been wanting her to do this for a while, and have even had those fleeting comparison moments of: "but Joey is crawling already!", however now that my daughter is able to get from point A to point B without any assistance from mama, I am regretting how much I longed for this milestone. Before I can even sit down and have one sip of coffee I have yelled "No!" across the room at least 10 times, rescued Pumpkin from under a dining room chair, saved the cat from certain death by drooling and detached my daughters claws from the speaker cables. This is only going to get worse huh?

Still Can't Sleep

2006-02-06T19:32:00.000+01:00

Friday night I saw the clock turn 2am, Saturday night 3am and Sunday night 1:30am. I am a zombie!

Tonight I plan to have a glass of wine while soaking in the bath and then crawl into bed at 8:pm. If I see that clock pass 00:00 I think I will absolutely loose it!

I need sleep :-(

Insomina and random thoughts

2006-02-04T14:28:00.000+01:00

I have been having a hard time falling asleep lately. There is nothing in particular on my mind, but I just seem to lay there in bed, tired, longing to slip into sweet dreamland, but unable to cross over that border to sleep. Last night I lay in bed from 11pm to 2am (the last time I looked over at the glowing red digits on our clock) with a stupid song playing repeatedly in my head - over and over again the same freaking tune. I could not purge it from my head no matter what I did. I tried my yoga breathing, counting slowly, but nothing. I was exhausted but unable to sleep. Then this morning on my one morning to sleep in, when I really really needed to remain snoring on my pillow till almost noon, I awoke at 7:30 with the stupid song playing in my head again. Eventually I gave up, sick of tossing and turning, and got up and made myself some strong coffee. So much for sleeping in. Now I am just trying to remind myself how much I would have loved 5 hours of strait sleep in those months after Pumpkin was born, that I have functioned on much less. Shouldn't that make me feel better?

---

Pumpkin and I are spending today alone, as Mr. P is off at his friend’s bachelor party. He left the house at 11am, and I do not expect to see him till he crawls into our bed sometime Sunday morning. I feel like I have been jipped of my weekend - like going into the office on a Saturday. I look forward to the weekends, when I get a break and can hand Pumpkin off to someone else if only for a little bit. Someone else can wipe poop off her butt, sing "The Ants go marching" to her repeatedly and fight with her over who gets to hold the spoon during meal time. Unfortunately we will be missing the wedding, as Mr. P's friend is getting married in India. Two years ago I would have been jumping to go to India and attend a traditional Hindu wedding ceremony and celebration – they party for 3 days people! – and he gets to ride in on a elephant!!! But now that I am a mama I can not rationalize putting my baby gal through numerous vaccinations just so I can see the Taj Mahal. There was also no way I was going on holiday and leaving her with someone else. I still have a hard time leaving her for a few hours so we can go to dinner and a movie. But regardless I am bummed out that I had to make that choice. Some parts of parenthood really really suck!

---

Why is it that everyone feels that they are a baby expert? There are always those strangers that feel it is their duty to give you unasked for advice. Your baby is too cold, too warm or hungry. She is crying because - although she just ate - she is starving, it is not possibly because sometimes babies just cry - that is what they do! When Pumpkin was a about month old some woman had me panicking because according to her I should have a hat on my baby. No matter that it was the end of June and almost 80 degrees out, Pumpkin was going to catch her death in cold because there was a slight breeze and her head was uncovered. Of course being the over sensitive and under confident new mom I actually let this woman get to me, and worried for days that because of me Pumpkin was going to be hospitalized for pneumonia. Thank goodness that with time comes the ability to shoot back at this unsolicited advice. Yesterday I had Pumpkin in her Baby Bjorn on the train and had a scarf draped from my chest over her head to help her fall asleep (she is easily distracted). I noticed this man staring at me, and when I glared back at him he asked “can she breathe under there?” No sir, I am purposely suffocating my child, of course I am too stupid to make sure she could breathe. I am only her mother, and you are a stranger, it is only natural that you would know better than me. I glared at him and said “She can breathe just fine thank you”. Ass hole!

---

In less than a week I am flying to SF with Pumpkin – alone - without a seat for her. I am panicking. What was I possibly thinking when I booked the ticket? Yeah she was incredibly well behaved last time, but she was 3 months then and had a bassinette to sleep in the entire 10 hour flight. This time she is 8 months, almost crawling and unable to stay still for a split second. How the hell am I going to handle her for 10 hours on an airplane, on my lap? How am I supposed to even eat, or pee? Most important how to I avoid having a breakdown right there in isle 26 seat D while flying over Greenland? I think I will hand out sympathy earplugs to all those in the seats next to me, and if things get bad I will just leave her screaming in the isle while I hide in the bathroom and down those free mini vodkas for the remainder of the flight. Please tell me something to help me survive; I will try anything short of drugging her!

End of the love affair

2006-01-31T20:37:00.000+01:00

When we first moved to the Netherlands just over 4 years ago I was in high spirits. I looked forward to building a life in Europe. I was disgusted by Bush, and by the way things seemed to be going in the US under his cowboy leadership. In Holland I saw a liberal and tolerant home. I admired the socialist system, the idea of a safety net for people. I had seen enough homeless in San Francisco to know that capitalism left many drowning in its wake. I knew enough people that were denied medical procedures or left with outrageous medical bills because they were under insured to see the benefits in national healthcare for all. I admired a country that allowed everyone to get married regardless of sexual preference, and somehow seemed to lack a religious right getting all up in arms over some so-called “moral deterioration”. I like the way the Dutch seemed to approach problems, not making everything illegal just to fight a loosing battle, but instead trying to control it by regulations (i.e. marijuana & prostitution). The only place that could possibly be more liberal than San Francisco was Amsterdam right?

It was like when you first fall in love with someone and you only see the good things. There may be little things that bug you, like the way he wears the same shirt three days in a row, or how his fridge is always empty except for the six pack of beer. Those are almost non-issues, things you can look past or even try to change. I could look past the dog shit on the sidewalk and the lack of customer service. But like that guy with the empty fridge, once you move in and start to live together more things become obvious. He leaves his drawers and socks on the floor next to the laundry hamper instead of simply lifting the lid and putting them in. He drinks milk out of the carton and places it back in the fridge with only a few drops. His snoring keeps you up at night, and he always forgets to call if he is going to be late. Soon this adds up with those other little things you once found cute, but not anymore. Eventually Mr. Right is forgetting your anniversary and spending a bit to much time at the pub with the boys. Before you know it you see him flirting with your next door neighbor. That is it. The love affair is over and you are packing your bags. Well that is how it was for me. I tried to assimilate, tried to fit in. I took the language courses and the exams. Hell I even got my passport.

But while I was working to become Dutch all those little things started to add up. I stepped on one to many piles of dog shit, got attitude one to many times from the cashier at the grocery store. On top of those little things, a bigger problem became obvious, one I could not ignore however hard I tried. No matter what I did I would always be an outsider here because of my accent and the country of my birth. Every day that went by I was actually feeling less and less welcome in my adopted home.

The tolerant Dutch attitude has been greatly challenged by immigration. Like most of Europe, Holland has been experiencing an anti-immigration backlash, and racial tensions are obvious. The current Dutch government has been trying to “solve” what they see as the integration problem - why immigrants (mostly from Turkey & Morocco) are not assimilating into Dutch culture. Frustrations were only made worse last year when a controversial Dutch filmmaker was brutally killed by an Islamic extremist who held dual Dutch & Moroccan nationality. There was a national outcry and anger over the seen failure to integrate immigrants. Since then there have been numerous suggestions by government officials to try and bring the immigrants into the fold of society. Most of there are ridiculous, focusing on silly things like dual nationality (does holding a Moroccan passport make you more likely to become a terrorist?) or where one learns Dutch. Most recently the focus of this is what language immigrants speak not while in the stores or school but when walking on the street with friends or at home with their children. The Immigration and Integration Minister suggested last week a code of conduct which would emphasize that people speak Dutch on the streets only. She said it made Dutch people feel uncomfortable when they heard other languages being spoken on the streets. Her suggestion actually followed on the heals of the Rotterdam Code, a charter being unveiled in Rotterdam that stresses that people speak Dutch in the streets and in their homes as much as possible.

Basically these proposals say that while I am walking down the street with my husband or my English friends I am not allowed to speak my native language, because people around me, who are not part of my conversation, can not understand me. This says that I should not speak English with my daughter; that she will not benefit from being raised bi-lingual. This is a form of discrimination. It is beyond asking people to learn Dutch; it is dictating what language can be spoken in ones private life. It is making it wrong to speak another language at all.

That these are ridiculous proposals and that they will be impossible to enforce is beside the point. By a politician bringing this forward they are basically telling the public it is alright to feel uncomfortable when someone is speaking another language, it is OK to give people a hard time if they are not following these “rules”. It is OK for people to stare when they hear me speaking English to Mr. P or Pumpkin. It is OK for people to say: “je moet Nederlands spreken, hoor” (You must speak Dutch, OK?) when I am not speaking to them in the first place. A stamp of approval has been given to the public to harass anyone not speaking Dutch. My in-laws should be happy, their feelings have been OK’d by a minister, they can’t be wrong.

I am glad that we have decided to leave. The Netherlands is a wonderful country with a great history, and it will always hold a piece of my heart, but it is headed down the wrong road. My bags will soon be packed, this love affair is at its end.

I just wish I did not have to return to Bush and the Terminator!

Photo Contest - Love

2006-01-29T18:31:00.000+01:00

Here is my entry in the Queen of Spain's Order of Saint Anne Photo Contest for February. The topic this month is love. This is actually my favorite photo from our wedding. Strange since we are facing away from the camera, but I see it more as a symbol of us looking towards our new future together.

We decided to forgo the complications and stress of trying to plan a large wedding with families on two sides of the globe and instead get married just the two of us on the Caribbean island of Saint Lucia. It was really a dream wedding, and I am so happy we decided to do it the way we did, focusing instead on us and our love for eachother. Plus who can beat that backdrop!

(I know, my secret is out, I bleach my hair! I chopped it off and died it days after we returned - but it was short and blond when we met, so it was not a shocker)

Just as you were forgeting me....

2006-01-28T18:39:00.000+01:00

Hey, were back!

Our short vacation was both refreshing and relaxing. Germany’s HoogSauerland region is absolutely stunning -snow covered fields and trees, beautiful mountain peaks and classically German houses. I could only imagine being as lucky as to wake up every morning and look out my window to such magnificence.

It was great to spend that time as a family, without the everyday distractions of life. No computer, no TV - well, none in a language I could understand - no laundry to be washed and folded, no house to clean, no phone calls, just the three of us enjoying the time together. I wish life could always be like that. I finished off 3 books, and am well into a 4th. I must spend more time like that in the evening, with a book in hand instead of the remote. Pumpkin did not enjoy the snow too much; she seriously lacks mobility in her snowsuit and is too small to be dragged around on a sled. But she loved the indoor swim center, and was moving about the pool in her float ring chasing after all the bigger kids. She may not be a snow bunny, but she sure is a little mermaid!

Now that I am back, and close to the bottom of the huge pile of laundry begging to be done, I need to start catching up on the blog-sphere. You all have been mighty busy while I have been gone. When ever will I find the time to read all your posts! Please forgive me if it takes me a while to get caught up.

You will hear from me again soon though. I have to post a photo to the Queen of Spain’s Order of Saint Anne competition. I am also working on gathering my thoughts about the “Dutch Code of Conduct” – otherwise known as the Language Police – suggested by Immigration and Integration Minister Rita Verdonk while I was away (Thanks Laura for the heads-up).

In the meantime, I leave you with a few photos to peruse. Mr. P and I just purchased ourselves a new portrait lens (Sigma 70-300mm F4-5.6 Macro Super II) for our Canon Digital Rebel and needless to say have been taking TONS of photos to break it in. Enjoy.

Holiday

2006-01-18T16:08:00.000+01:00

Mr P, Pumpkin and I are heading off onto our first real holiday as a family. We will be spending just over a week in Germany's Sauerland region, and along with a lot of rest and relaxation, we hope to also have a lot of fun in the snow. My box of books from Amazon arrived just on time, so I have plenty of material to keep me busy while sitting in front of the fire. I will also be sans internet for the entire time, so this will be my last posting till we return. Keep me posted here on the happenings in your worlds so I can quickly catch up on my return!

Everybody is a judge

2006-01-15T18:08:00.000+01:00

Just last week my blogging buddy the Queen of Spain was attacked for her parenting methods and told she was damaging her children for life; that they would become freaks because of her. What was she doing that this person, who had never met her or her children, could make such an accusation? Was she locking them in cages? Did she beat them? Were they being sent off to work as child laborers? Was she smoking crack next to their cribs at night? No, nothing of the such. Her crime, the reason she was dooming her children to a life as outsiders and freaks, was breastfeeding on demand and co-sleeping. She was rightfully very upset by this accusation, and attacked back at her accuser.

This made me wonder, why is it that parents become so judgmental of other parents methods of raising their children. Why is the way one parent chooses to raise their children right while any other way of doing it is wrong? Why are there a plethora of books out there telling parents the correct manner of childrearing, that if they do not follow the guidelines set they will be damaging their children. Isn't being a parent hard enough? Aren't most mothers hard enough on themselves? Do moms need all this judgment thrown at them by some pricks who decide that because they have a PhD it means that they are a parenting expert? Do they need to be attacked by their fellow parents because they choose to approach childrearing from a different angle?

I only breastfed for a month, I decided to stop breastfeeding because I felt it was the right thing to do for the relationship between me and my daughter. I do not co-sleep, but also do not use the cry it out method. Pumpkin sleeps in her own room, and has since the day she came home from hospital. I also respond to her when she cries, no matter the time. I wear her in a baby carrier as often as possible, and believe no baby can be held too much. I decided to cloth diaper and I make all Pumpkin's baby food. She has been learning two languages from birth, and we plan to introduce a 3rd language later. I quit my job to be a stay at home mom, but will send Pumpkin to school when the time comes, not attempt to school her at home. I do believe strongly in vaccination, and will not postpone or skip the recommended schedule. I do not follow any parenting philosophy, or take what the books say to seriously. I make my own way with what I have learned, and what I believe is right for us.

Am I a bad mother because of my choices, or am I a better mother because of them? I am neither. We all make choices; look at what will work best in our homes, with our families. Why is one choice any better than another, as long as that choice is made in love? A bad parent is one that abuses or neglects their child, one that would purposely do them harm. The rest of us, we love and do everything we feel is best for our children. And our children will only thrive because of our choices, because those choices have been made with love.

Very Disturbing Search

2006-01-15T17:03:00.000+01:00

Up till now I have not had too many scary or downright odd searches that have lead to my blog. But today someone found my blog by searching google for "mama and son sex".

I am absolutely certain he (or she) did not find what they were looking for here.

National de-lurking week

2006-01-13T14:00:00.000+01:00

I am a bit late on the uptake here, but if you are out there please take a moment, say hello and tell me something about yourself. That is if I am not talking to myself...

Tragic

2006-01-12T09:07:00.000+01:00

Mr. P got a phone call last night from a friend of ours. An old friend of his from university lost his wife yesterday. Tuesday she was fine, and Wednesday he was making the awful gut wrenching decision to detach her from life support. She was 31, a mother of a young son, and pregnant with her second child, due in June. It is all so tragic. One day she was planning her new baby’s nursery, perhaps picking out names for the child stirring inside her, the next day she was gone. The doctors think she had an unseen heart defect, a sleeping giant, which in one fell swoop took her life. I never met this woman or Mr. P’s old university friend, but I can not stop crying. I cried last night in bed, and this morning in the shower. I am trying now to type through eyes blurred with tears. I just keep thinking of her family. Her parents who lost their daughter and unborn grandchild, a grief no parent should ever know. Her husband who lost his wife and unborn child, left to raise his other child without the woman he loved. Mostly I keep thinking of that that poor poor baby who will never be held by his mother again. She will never teach him to tie his shoes, will never walk him to his first day of school. She will not ever be there again to read him a story, to tuck him into bed. She will never see him graduate, or walk down the isle. She will not see him grow up into the man she saw in his eyes. He may not even remember the woman who gave him life, who loved him with every part of her being. Maybe it is better that she never knew what hit her, never knew she would be leaving her child. I don’t think I could handle that knowledge.

Life is so fragile, so precious. It can be here one minute and gone the next. Go hug your children, kiss them and tell them you love them. Sit down and play with them, even if the chores are piling up on you. Let the dishes overflow in the sink, the vacuuming can wait. Tell your spouse, partner or lover how much they mean to you. Live each day as best you can, enjoy every moment because it is a gift, and we should never forget that.

A Trip to the Big City

2006-01-10T10:24:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I went to the American Consulate in Amsterdam to file the petition for Mr. P’s Green Card, step 1 in the application process. By the time I got home, almost 5 hours after I walked out the door, I felt like I was in the 9th month of pregnancy. My back hurt, my legs hurt and I was absolutely exhausted. I think my relationship with the Baby Bjorn is near its end. I can’t cart around an 8 kilo baby on my chest for 5 hours. It does not matter that I gained more than that when pregnant. That weight was spread out (a lot taking up residence on my thighs and butt) and while towards the end it did feel like my womb was home to a future world-cup soccer champ, that weight did not fling itself around madly when excited, kicking my thighs and body slamming my chest. I thought using the Bjorn would be easier than the pram since we needed to take almost every form of public transport available (bus-train-tram and back again). It would be easier to navigate the security, pat downs and metal detectors that line the fenced entrance to the American Consulate, and Pumpkin would nap better while strapped to me than she would in her pram. On all counts there I was right. I just had no idea how long the trip would be, and that before we even boarded the train to Amsterdam, my back would be crying out for mercy.

Yet I must have the sweetest baby alive. Pumpkin spent 5 hours strapped to her mama, bundled up like an Eskimo against the cold, lugged from place to place, and queue to queue – hat and gloves on and off, jacket unzipped and zipped. Even though she did not nap at her normal 1:30, finally falling asleep from pure exhaustion at 3:15, she was an absolute angel who charmed everyone she locked eyes with. My daughter smiles for and flirts with everyone. She could not get enough of the little girl on the train with the pigtails, and when the girl did not notice her, she broke into a chorus of loud shrieks and endless babble to get her attention. When the young (and incredibly sexy) Italian guy boarded the train at the airport, and sat next to us, she proceeded to grab at his arm and flash him toothy grins, which when returned she feigned shy and buried her head in my chest. She charmed the pants off the security guard at the consulate who swore no baby ever smiles at him. Upon finding the consulate too quiet for her liking, Pumpkin then broke into another chorus of babble which sent most of the glum people in the queue into laughter. The consular, who approved the petition, even tried to set her 9 month old son up with my beautiful girl. And when she abruptly awoke from her nap on the train (why oh why do people have to yell into their mobile phones?!) she did not cry, but commenced with the charm offensive, completely pulling the grandmotherly woman across from us from her book, and drawing smiles from almost everyone on the train. She only got grumpy when we rounded the corner for home, perhaps because she had no audience anymore.

This is why I love baby wearing, she is at eye level with people, instead of looking at their knees. It is such a better place for interaction, especially for my social gal. I will miss carrying her around for long periods, having her that close to me. It looks like the pram will be getting more use, while the sling and Bjorn will be reserved only for short treks. It makes me wonder about that carrier I saw at the store the other day for babies above 15 kilo. What mom, besides a body builder or superwoman, can wear her 16 kilo baby!?!

Tagged Again

2006-01-08T19:08:00.000+01:00

KDubs tagged me, and now I must reveal 5 weird things about me. That should not be too hard, as I think I am pretty odd indeed. But I thought I would make this a bit more interesting and let Mr. P tell you 5 weird things about me. Italicized comments are mine.

1. She watches TV crooked, favoring the left eye. So it looks like she is facing something on the right of the TV, yet she really is watching the show. (Yes, this is true, I first had it pointed out to me when I was a teenager. I am not sure why I do this, but if I attempt to watch the TV strait-on, my eyes feel tired)

2. Whenever the good (scary, embarrassing or exciting) scenes in a movie or TV show come on, she runs out screaming "no, no, no! I can't watch this". (Guilty as charged - I am the worst with those horrible embarrassing moments that you can just see coming... I think I watched half of American Pie from the hallway)

3. She puts only 2-3 molecules of toothpaste on her toothbrush. (This is a slight exaggeration, we just disagree on how much toothpaste is necessary to clean teeth. I think that you only need enough to suds up your teeth, where Mr. P likes to cover his toothbrush with a huge stripe of paste like in the commercials.)

4. No one I know is in and out of the bathroom as quick as her. (That's me, the quickest pee in the west - One bathroom, 4 kids- explain it at all?)

5. She talks in her sleep, and can even have full conversations while actually unconscious. (Another one I can't deny. I have freaked out many people with this, including Mr. P when we first started "spending the night". I have heard it is very hard to tell that I am not awake. I have even been known to sit up in bed and start talking, and every so often even to walk in my sleep.)

Tag, now you're it!
Troll Baby
Watching me grow
SlushTurtle
Queen of Spain
The Diaper Pail

Mama doesn't like those kisses

2006-01-05T15:28:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I was playing with Pumpkin, she was sitting, and I was lying on the floor, my head resting in her lap. She likes to pull my hair and stick her fingers in my mouth. I usually enjoy her explorations of my face, but yesterday her curiosity went too far. Giggling she leaned down closer to me and BIT MY NOSE! Let me tell you those four teeth are sharp. I jumped up, tears in my eyes. My little lady just bit me, and hard! I still had little tooth marks on my nose when Mr. P came home in the evening.

But did I learn my lesson? No, of course not! This morning I was again playing on the floor with Pumpkin, when I started to give her kisses. With my face in front of hers I puckered up and said “give mama some kisses”. She giggled, and to my surprise threw her arms towards me, leaned forward and wrapped her lips around my lower lip. Shocked, I did it again, and again she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around mine! Ah, the joy of a mother whose kisses are returned! She did it twice more to my utter disbelief when I called Mr. P to tell him that our daughter just KISSED her mama. He was amused in that sort of “why the hell did you just call me at the office to tell me that” way. So I hung up and leaned into Pumpkin again to claim another kiss. I should have stopped when I was ahead. This time she wrapped her lips around mine, and BIT DOWN HARD. Ouch! She actually made my lip bleed…

So in the last two days my daughter bit both my nose and my lip. Added to the time last week when she gave me a bloody nose (I really should cut her nails before allowing her to explore the cavities of my nose with her finger) I think I can say I am being abused by my daughter. Is there a support group for moms like me?

Life is like an amusement park

2006-01-03T14:24:00.000+01:00

I am not a risk taker. I was one of the few people in San Francisco during the dot-com boom who did not buy up IPO stock, who never amassed a tech portfolio. I much prefer to see my money gain slowly in a savings account than chance blowing it all on the stock market. I have only been gambling twice, and both times I stuck to the nickel slots, venturing over to the quarter slots and the $3 Blackjack tables only briefly enough to get a free drink. I tend to plan most big steps I make, down to every last detail, to avoid the possibility of anything going wrong. I don’t play hazardous sports, or travel to dangerous places. I live life on the safe side, and prefer it that way. I know bad things can happen no matter how careful I am, but I prefer to minimize the chance.

My sister once made the perfect analogy; life is like a amusement park. You have the nice kiddy rides, the bumper cars and merry-go-rounds. They are fun but gentle and never make you sick to your stomach. Then there are the rollercoasters and the other big rides that spin and flip you about. They are exhilarating and scream inducing. Along with the fun though comes the gamble of loosing anything you did not tie to your body as well as anything in your stomach. I tend to live life mostly on the kiddy rides, and when I do venture onto the rollercoaster I make sure I have an empty stomach and nothing in my pockets to loose.

Yet this move we are planning is risky, and that is already weighing on me, even though it is at least half a year till we leave. I am approaching the biggest and scariest ride I have ever seen. We will be packing up our lives to move back across the world. We do not have a home there, or guaranteed work. But we are going to sell our house, ship all our belongings, and start all over again. Yes, I have made such a big move before, over 4 years ago, when we left SF for Amsterdam. But Mr. P’s company sent us, so he had work, and they paid for everything including temporary housing till we could find a home. I am excited that we finally decided to go, but the risks are weighing on me. I know that these risks are necessary to get to where we want to be, and if I stay nice and secure, I will also stay unhappy. But I am scared to get unto that giant coaster with a lot in my pocket. What if I loose it all?

So what do I do when I see the boogeyman around every corner? When I stay up at night thinking of all the little things that can go wrong? I start to plan, down to every last little detail. In the last week I have started the “BIG MOVE” file. Already there are lists, spreadsheets, pie charts and appendixes. Everything is outlined; there is a cover page and table of contents. There are links to movers and PDF files with health insurance quotes. My obsessive side is definitely showing. As the queue to the coaster creeps on and I get closer to the ride, it will only get worse and worse. Mr. P fully expects to come home some day and get a PowerPoint presentation detailing every possible bump in the road. Already I am driving him nuts with “it is all going to be OK, right?” and “we are doing the right thing, right?” The only thing keeping me sane is how happy I am to know I will be going home, even if I have to ride that coaster to get there.

So internet, what do you think? Are we mad? Or am I just an old scardey cat destined to live my life on a merry-go-round. Would you get on that coaster?

2005 in Pictures of Pumpkin & Ms. Mama

2006-01-02T14:08:00.000+01:00

JANUARY

FEBRUARY
MARCH
APRIL
MAY

JUNE
JULY

AUGUST
SEPTEMBER
OCTOBER

NOVEMBER
DECEMBER

Happy 2006!

2006-01-01T11:02:00.000+01:00

Happy New Year!

2005 was an exciting year in the Ms. Mama household. It was the year that Mr. P and I went from a twosome to a threesome; from a couple to a family. The arrival of Pumpkin changed our lives in wonderful ways which I can not even articulate. I can not imagine life before her, would not want to go back to our carefree childless days for anything. It is strange how it can seem like a short, yet incredibly long year at the same time. Short, because I can remember Jan 1st 2005 like it really was yesterday. Time does fly by in a blink of the eye! Long, because so much has happened in that year.

This is a post from a personal pregnancy blog I kept for my family. It is dated January 8th 2005, shortly after the New Year. I feel it articulates better than I could now how much things really have changed.

Weeks 19 & 20
We I returned earlier this week from our trip to Cali for the holidays. I am finally feeling completely back onto this time zone so I figure it is about time I get something posted again on this blog!!! For those of you we saw, we had a great time and am so glad we had time to catch up, for those of you we missed, sorry, time just seemed to run out! I hope when we make our next trip over with the new bundle of joy we will be able to meet up.
Our arrival back in the Netherlands began with a few reminders of my pregnancy (if the constant trips to the air-toilet were not enough). First and most excitingly while passing over Greenland I felt the baby move! It was very faint, and felt as a cross between a small bubble popping and a slight tapping. I have felt it a few times now since so am convinced they are "flutters"... It will be a while before I feel real kicking, and since my placenta is on my belly side the movements will also remain faint for a while. The placenta basically acts as a pillow cushioning the movements. But movement is movement!!! Our second reminder was not quite so pleasant. While my morning sickness has been gone for over a month now, it seems my stomach is not its normal self. Shortly before landing I started to feel slightly ill and asked for a baggy just in case. I figured it would pass, like most of my former morning sickness. And it seemed to go away, that is at least for a while. But there was a wind storm over Holland and we had a rather rough approach to landing. Not anything I have not experienced before, but less than comfortable. Yet I made it to landing without losing my breakfast... The problem was I did not make it long afterwards! All my breakfast decided to make a reappearance as we taxied to the gate. I have never been so embarrassed in my life!!! I just have to be thankful for two things, it was the end of the flight so I never have to see any of these people again, and I at least look pregnant - people seem to be more sympathetic than with someone who is simply airsick!! Again I blame the baby :-)
Two days after our return we got to get another ultrasound. I have a photo and will post it once I go back to work and can scan it in. It was amazing! The last ultrasound our baby was 2cm head to rump. Now it is 16 cm!!! Everything looks perfect and growth is right on schedule! We saw the heart’s 4 chambers, the stomach, bladder, diaphragm, spine and arms and legs. Unfortunately our little one is a bit shy and had it’s head buried towards my back so we got no view of its face :-(Since we do not want to know the sex yet we had to close our eyes a few times when the technician was in that "area". I think that just made me more curious than ever! I just have to stick to our decision a bit longer; we have our 4D ultrasound in 3 weeks. This will be that last (unless god forbid we have complications). Hopefully our little one has overcome its shyness by then and gives us a glimpse of its face!!!

It is hard to imagine I am writing there about our Pumpkin. I still can not believe that she is the same creature that first kicked while I was flying over Greenland. Hell, I can not even believe she is the same helpless creature that was handed into my waiting arms 7 months ago.

2005 was a wonderful year; I think it will be hard to top. Here is hoping that 2006 is another wonderful year, if anything our move will definitely bring many more big changes before 2007!

Wishing you all a wonderful start to 2006, and hoping that all your dreams for the year come true!

First Snow

2005-12-30T09:44:00.000+01:00

This morning we woke up to a world covered in a light dust of snow. While in the east and north of the country snow is a normal winter occurrence, we only get a few snow days a year here in the west, and usually they are not till after the new year. This December snow was a nice surprise. Growing up in the bay area I never looked out my window to see snow, and though as a child we visited a snow covered Yosemite in the winter, I actually never saw it snow till I went to Tahoe when I was 21. The beauty and peacefulness after a snowfall is therefore still a wonder to me.

So this morning I bundled Pumpkin up in her snowsuit which I purchased for our planned trip to the snow in January and went to take some photos in the early morning light. Here are some of my favorites.

Homes along a frozen canal.

Distant church tower.

Pumpkin's first snow.

First snow angel

What is all this white stuff?

Under closer examination

Still happy even after a cold faceplant

Going Home

2005-12-28T16:04:00.000+01:00

Thank you for your kind comments to my last post.  I am happy that other people understand how much my in-law’s attack hurt me.  However lest you think that a few terribly insensitive comments from Mr. P’s family are chasing us from the Netherlands I better expand on our seemingly sudden choice to return to the US.

Shortly after Pumpkin was born I told Mr. P that I feared I would never feel at home here, and that it may be time to consider moving on.  My urge to leave took him by surprise since up to that point it had been him longing to return to America, and me who hesitated, still seeing light at the end of the tunnel.    I do find that there are many advantages to us living in Europe.  Not the least being the importance placed here on traveling, that the education system is much better, and I prefer socialized medicine over the free for all in the US.  However after trying to fit in for the last 4 years, I had realized that the light at the end of the tunnel was dimming for me.  This could be my fault more than it anyone else’s, but it was quickly becoming obvious that the honeymoon was over.

We evaluated our choices.  I wanted to live somewhere where English was spoken, where I had the confidence again to place phone calls and deal with day to day issues.  Our list was short: Australia, New Zealand, England or America.  Mr. P quickly vetoed England and New Zealand (why I still do not know, as I have heard it is beautiful!).  That left Australia and America.  Once we looked at the difficulty involved with Mr. P getting a work visa for Australia, as well as the travel costs to visit both our families from “down under”, we sadly crossed that off the list too.   America is big, but our hearts lay in only one place there, San Francisco.  Unfortunately we are not the only ones in love with the bay area, and home prices are outrageous there.  In September, when visiting my family, we took a short trip to Phoenix to see if we liked it there, as it was warm, close to California and housing was still affordable.  No offence to any of my readers from the Phoenix Metro Area, but we both were unhappy with it.  It was suburban sprawl at its worst, and seemed to lack any sort of heart and soul.

When we returned to Holland, we decided to shelve the move idea for a while and try and make it work here.  However we both would mention moving from time to time.   The events that transpired over Christmas just made clear for Mr. P what I had been trying to tell him.  I do not fit in here and I will always feel like an outsider.   It was obvious then what we were to do.  So we are stepping off the property ladder for a year or two and moving back to the bay area.  At this point I am truthfully more than happy to let someone else pay for repairs to heaters, leaking roofs, worn carpets and house painting.    Our house now seems like less an investment and more a money pit anyway.

We have a long path ahead of us.  Mr. P will get a green card through me, but that does not mean that the application process is quick or cheap.  We also must sell our home and ship everything back.  Then it is a matter of finding work, housing and settling back in America.  We estimate we will move no earlier than September 2006.  But I am happier now than I have been in a long time.  I am going home.

It just isn't Christmas if no-one cries

2005-12-27T13:07:00.000+01:00

I hope everyone had a nice holiday with their families. I am sure I will have lots to read on all your blogs over the next few days. For now here is my Christmas entry…

In Holland most families spend the 25th with one side of their family, and the 26th (Boxing Day as it is in Canada and the UK) with the other. Since we can not travel to California and back in 1 day we did not visit my family on the 25th. We instead had a lovely Christmas Day as a family, just the three of us. Pumpkin slept in Christmas morning as her gift to us, and we, in exchange, let her open all those wrapped boxes under the tree. My mom sent some lovely plush toys of which Pumpkin promptly tasted each and every piece. The wood rocking horse Mr. P and I purchased is still a bit too big for our little lady, but she did taste both the ear and the mane when I placed her in the saddle. Since a success with Pumpkin now is if she can place it in her mouth and drool all over it, I would say her Christmas gifts went over very well. The rest of the day was spent relaxing, and I even managed to finish the book I had been trying to read for the past month. Since it was just the two of us for dinner we made a simple roast chicken, risotto and asparagus soup. We both went to bed full and happy, a perfect end to a perfect day.

Monday was spent with Mr. P’s family. We arrived at his parents shortly after 2:00pm, and it was all very nice. The family sat around and talked about the new baby, adored Pumpkin and played with lil man (our nephew). Our first Christmas in Holland, 4 years ago, had been hard. Having been only here for over 1 month I did not understand anything anyone was saying and I was terribly homesick. It has gradually gotten easier over the years, and I did not feel homesick at all this year. I like to think that, while I still feel like an outsider generally in Holland, I do fit in with Mr. P’s family. That is why what happened hurt so badly.

I was giving Pumpkin her bedtime bottle, sitting quietly on the couch, when boom, I was under attack. Mr. P’s Grandmother commented to his father that I now understood all of the conversation. She often talks about me as if I am not there, but she is old so I forgive her that. Her comment was innocent enough, as she tends to make it every time I see her. But then my father-in-law started to complain that I speak English to Mr. P and Pumpkin. Soon my mother-in-law joined in, and I was both attacked and simultaneously talked about as if I was not there. It seems that Sunday, while my in-laws were visiting my sister-in-law at the hospital; we were the topic of conversation. I could not believe it! I am very sensitive about the level of my Dutch, but I have done everything asked of me. I took the integration courses at night for over a year while working full time, passed all the tests, and even got my citizenship. But it seems to them this is not enough. Basically they were upset that I speak English with my husband and my daughter, and that when I can not find the Dutch words in conversation I speak to Mr. P in English so he can help translate. They even went as far to say that I could be talking about them when I speak English, and they would not know it. I am glad they think so highly of me that I would do such a thing. It seems as well that my Dutch has deteriorated since I stopped working (which is funny since I worked at an English company). The blows just kept coming.

I sat there dumbfounded as they discussed me (mostly as if I was not there), and Mr. P politely tried to defend us. I could not run upstairs since Pumpkin was quietly drinking her bottle, oblivious to her mother struggling to hold in the tears. When she finished the bottle I took her quickly upstairs to bed and was finally able to cry. Mr. P soon came up, fuming mad, and I fell into his arms. He could not believe his family could be so oblivious to how hurtful that was; I was just stinging from the blows. Then and there he told me that was it; we had been discussing moving back to the states for months, this made up our minds.

I did not want his family to know they made me cry, so I soon sent Mr. P downstairs, where he explained that Pumpkin was a bit restless and I would be down shortly. I eventually gathered myself together and went back downstairs, where I had to pretend nothing was wrong for the next 4 hours till we finally left.

I have since cried all those tears I could not cry last night. I am hurt and angry and generally just sad. What does it matter to them what language I speak with Mr. P and Pumpkin? How can they not understand it is my language, and just because I am here does not mean I will abandon it? How could they be so hurtful and not see it? But what made me cry the hardest is the confirmation that I have not been super sensitive and paranoid. I really do not fit in here, and I never will. It is time to go. My daughter deserves her confident and happy mother, and that mother belongs in America. The Green Card application has been printed and the balls are rolling, we are moving again.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays!

2005-12-24T10:19:00.000+01:00

Wishing you and yours a very merry Christmas! I hope that you survive the visiting in-laws, the cooking disasters and the children dragging you out of bed at 5am Christmas morning.

Christmas Past and Christmas Future

2005-12-22T09:13:00.000+01:00

I love Christmas. I love the lights and the trees, stockings and Santa. I love the cards, the carols and especially the eggnog. I get excited every November because it is ALMOST CHRISTMAS! I can not wait to watch A Charley Brown Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life. I can recite every word of Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch who Stole Christmas and can tell you every version of A Christmas Carol ever made. I must get my tree as soon as it hits December. I just love to inhale its sweet pine scent and to admire it all lit up in the evening. I love the way we slow down and enjoy the season, and eachother.

The best memories I have of Christmas are not of toys I received, of bicycles under the tree in the morning or gigantic candy canes in my stocking. They are the moments with my family. Going to the tree farm all of us packed in the van, my father walking patiently with the saw as we fought over which was the best tree. All of us piling back into the van while my parents struggled to tie the gigantic tree to the roof rack. How we would get home and sort out the ornaments, each of us four kids getting an equal amount to hang on the tree. How my father could never string the lights quick enough, and we would be all sitting there rushing him, our neat piles of ornaments ready to be hung one at a time, each taking turns. It is the Christmas mornings when we would all be up at 5am, too excited to sleep any longer, begging my father to get out of bed so we could have at those wrapped gifts under the tree. It is of my mother in her robe making pancakes as my father tried to light the fireplace, which was only lit once a year, for that occasion. The way us kids all sat under the lit tree, in our foot pajamas, shaking the boxes and trying to guess what was inside. How, after taking turns opening our gifts, and running off to play with our loot, we would return to the living room for our annual Christmas production. My dad would set up the video camera (which back in the day was huge and had to be connected directly to the VCR via cable to record) as I would boss my siblings around, directing the whole show. There would be songs and plays, costume changes and often tears and lots of yelling. But it was tradition, it was Christmas, and I hope to someday have my children putting on their own production Christmas morning.

The songs and the TV shows all tie into this feeling; they bring back the memories, the excitement about Christmas. I can not hear The Little Drummer Boy without picturing the Christmas record my mom would play every December. I remember sitting down and watching hours upon hours of Christmas cartoons. I loved Rudolf, Frosty, The Grinch and Charley Brown. As we got older we would watch The Christmas Story, Miracle on 34th Street and A National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

I look forward to all the Christmas we are to have as our new family. I dream of picking out the tree and hanging homemade ornaments from its branches. I can not wait till Pumpkin sees her first Santa. Putting out milk and cookies before she goes to bed Christmas Eve, the excitement in her eyes Christmas morning. I can not wait till she can watch the cartoons with me, and we can sing the carols out of tune together. Christmas will always be my favorite time of year; I hope I can make it just as special for her.

Photos 6-7 months

2005-12-21T08:48:00.000+01:00

Here are some of my favorite photos of Pumpkin taken this last month:

I love to eat my books!

Chilling with Mama

I eat my bath toys too!

Playing in my new bath chair.

Yummy rice cakes

Yummy thumb...

But mama's watch is the most delicious

An Early Birth

2005-12-20T08:31:00.000+01:00

The drugs to halt her contractions stopped working on Monday and my sister in law went back into labor. They continued the drugs to try and slow it down and give the steroids maximum time to help develop the baby's lungs, but birth was imminent, my nephew wanted out. Shortly after midnight Tuesday my sister in law gave birth to her son. He cried when he was born and was breathing without assistance. He weighed in at just over 2000gr (approximately 4 1/2 lbs), which is nice for 33 weeks. I think he would have been a big boy if he had made it full term :-)

Both mother and baby are doing well. My nephew will most likely be in hospital till at least 37 weeks, and mama will be released in a few days. I am just relieved that this all ended happily, even though it means yet another December birthday. :-) Pumpkin can not wait to meet her newest partner in crime.

Weekend Recap

2005-12-19T10:01:00.000+01:00

Mr. P (and my laptop) returned a bit early Friday, leaving the conference before it ended and arriving home shortly after noon. Pumpkin and I were however at our bi-weekly mommy/baby get together, so Mr. P hopped back in the car and picked us up. That was a nice luxury since it had been storming since Thursday evening, and we did not have to wait for the bus while dodging hail the size of pebbles. Happy to have my man home again and to have extra hands to help with Pumpkin, I celebrated the early start to my weekend by popping open a beer at the early hour of 2pm. Man was that one tasty beer :-)

While we laid low on Saturday, chilling in front of the fire place with the tree all lit up, Mr. P's sister was unbeknownst to us on her way to the hospital. She is 33 weeks pregnant with her second child and had started bleeding. From what I understand as well, it was not a little spotting or the early loss of her mucus plug, but enough blood where she thought her placenta had ruptured. As most moms also know, the movements of ones baby becomes such a constant by that point in pregnancy, a mom can often not remember the last time she felt a kick. And Mr. P's sister was no different. On the appearance of all that blood she started to panic that she did not remember the last time she "felt lifeÂ. Having heard the story through Mr. P (who of course does not get nearly enough info for my liking), I am not clear on all the details, but at some point, either on the way to the hospital, or upon her arrival, the contractions started. I can only imagine her fear, 7 weeks from her due date, loosing large amounts of blood, not feeling the baby move and going into pre-term labor. Mr. P's sister is an incredibly strong woman, but I am certain even she was in a panic.

Fast forwarding a bit, to when we were informed of all this... The baby eventually gave a swift kick and seemed to be doing just fine on the monitors. My sister in law was given an internal exam, upon which they could not pinpoint the cause of the bleeding, but they guessed that perhaps a blood vessel in the uterus burst. (What would cause this I am unsure as well, but I wonder if it could have to do with the c-section she had 18 months ago). She was given drugs to stop the contractions and steroids to speed up the developments of the baby's lungs. She is now stuck in a hospital bed, I assume till the baby is born. When she reaches 34 weeks they will take her off the contraction stopping drugs, since at that point they no longer stop labor. It is possible that she does not go back into labor then, just as it is possible that the drugs stop working and she goes into labor earlier. So I guess the chance of a Christmas baby is quite high. I know the survival rates for babies born after 33 weeks are very high, so I am not really worried. I just feel bad for my sister in law who is stuck now in hospital away from her other child over the holidays. I feel bad that she will possibly have to face the challenge of a baby in NICU, and all the fears that do come with a pre-term birth. I just hope that she can keep that lil boy in her for as long as possible.

On a much milder note, to end our lazy weekend we finally broke down and got the digital cable plus packet. I had become fed up with the lack of programs on, and was jumping for joy when Mr. P arrived back from the store with our new digital cable box. On top of all the worthless channels we get with the new packet, we also get 4 more BBC channels making a total of 6 for my BBC viewing pleasure. And Mr. P is overjoyed with the three new Discovery Channels, for his brain building viewing. There are some other good channels in the lineup, like the Travel channel and Performance TV. Mr. P is thrilled to again have E! while I could definitely do without it and yet another MTV. But what have I discovered already? That even with 100 more channels there is still NOTHING ON TV!

Update: I forgot to mention the biggest event of the weekend, both of my sisters are now University graduates! Sis A got her BS in Anthropology at UC Santa Cruz last weekend and Sis B got her BS in Wildlife Fish and Conservation Biology from UC Davis yesterday. I wish I could have been there to celebrate this HUGE accomplishment with them, but we will have to wait till my trip in February. My mom must be checking off her list - 3 down, one to go...

I've been Tagged

2005-12-16T20:52:00.000+01:00

I've been tagged by Becky. Now it's your turn.

Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot.
1. Hanuman
2. Running2Ks
3. Queen of Spain
4. Becky
5. Ms. Mama

Then select five people to tag.
1. Geronimo!
2. I am Growing Into Me
3. The Diaper Pail
4. Slush Turtle
5. Watching Me Grow

Now, on to the questions!

What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was 19 and living at home again after a terrible stint living with an ex-boyfriend/ fiancée. After a brief hiatus from school (due to unhealthy attachment to said ex) I was studying communications at Santa Rosa JC and finishing up my transfer application for CSU Chico. I was also in another doomed relationship with a huge looser who was messing around on me behind my back. Luckily my life made a turn for the better soon after!

What were you doing one year ago?
Planning the nursery, making lists, re-modeling the house for said nursery, making more lists and eating a lot of ice cream.

Five snacks you enjoy
Brie and crackers
Popcorn
Peanuts
Grapes
Cookies

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics
Five too many baby songs!

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire
Travel around the world.
Buy a home in Tuscany.
Buy Mr. P a Porsche.
Buy my mom a home.
Buy a yacht.

Five bad habits
Smoking when I drink
Swearing too much
Not listening
Biting my nails
Overplanning.

Five things you like doing
Traveling.
Sleeping
Reading
Going out to eat
Hanging with good friends

Five things you would never wear, buy or get new again
Navel piercing
Mini skirt
Neon clothes (hey it was the 80’s!)
Stretch pants
Tube Top

Five favorite toys
For me or for Pumpkin??

Awash in Tears

2005-12-15T15:24:00.000+01:00

Just in time for Mr. P´s trip out of town, Pumpkin´s top two teeth are now erupting quite painfully through her gums. The house has been awash in tears since last night (half of which are mine). Just how many teeth does a kid get? I am not sure I like the idea of going through this every few months for years to come!

On a happier note though, we had our 7 month checkup at the well baby clinic and Pumpkin is cruising along right on schedule. She is now 7530gr and 66.2cm (that is 16.6lbs and 26.06 inches). And my social gal even forgot about her sore gums long enough to flash every mother, baby, nurse and doctor a toothy grin. Unfortunately as soon as we returned home she remembered... It is going to be a very long night tonight!

Alone and without my friendly laptop

2005-12-14T12:54:00.000+01:00

Mr. P left me early this morning, and he took the laptop with him! The gall of him!

Pumpkin and I will be on our own till the weekend, and I will be mourning the temporary loss of my friend - my Dell laptop. Well actually the laptop is Mr. P´s, and is way to fancy for my measly use, surfing the net, but it sits great on the dining table allowing me to surf surf surf all day. Mr. P and the laptop are at Javapolis, some nerd fest, in Antwerp, Belgium. The laptop is probably ecstatic about being used for its main purpose, and what it was specially designed for, all that J2EE stuff (don’t ask me what that is - but Mr. P is a J2EE architect).

This is the first time since the end of my second trimester that I am on my own at home. I hate being on my own at night, I sleep terrible when Mr. P is not next to me. It is funny, since I used to live alone, but I have become a scardey cat in my old age. I get all paranoid, and imagine people breaking into the house while I lay in bed. I think I watch horror films and the news too much. It does not help that our house, which is 100 years old, creaks and groans at night, that I can hear the neighbors on their staircase, which to my imagination sounds like someone on MY staircase. I try to tell myself I am being silly, but damn, I just get all worked up. I live in a very safe neighborhood and have never heard of any break-ins, but that is little comfort to my crazed mind.

So for the next few nights I will be triple checking the locks on the doors, leaving lights on in the hall, and most likely laying awake with the phone near my head. But there is an upside of being on my own again. I plan to catch up on some chick flicks once Pumpkin is in bed, and I will eat my fill of unhealthy (but tasty) ready meals. As for my computer time, I will be hiding out now and then in the guest room on the desktop, who has been feeling mighty neglected lately.

Mommylicious

2005-12-13T20:18:00.000+01:00

My prize from the Queen of Spain's December Photo Contest arrived! I will spare you all a shot of me in the Yummy Mummy thong, but here is a shot of me in my new Mommylicious T-shirt!

Go get your own today at the Queen Store!

Toe Jam

2005-12-13T16:47:00.000+01:00

My little pumpkin seems to have mastered a new trick.

She really has taken a liking to those cute little toes of hers!

Remembering Those Less Fortunite this Christmas

2005-12-12T18:10:00.000+01:00

Warning – below is a gag, puke, “Oh My God could you be any sappier” post… Read at your own risk! But I promise it has a very good point.

Sometimes it just hits me, how very, very lucky I truly am. Yesterday I realized, as I was shoveling spinach and rice into pumpkin’s mouth, I do not have a single thing in my life I could complain about. Yeah, I could go on and on about the weather here, though we have had a VERY mild fall this year, and I could gripe about my post-pregnancy body till the cows come home. But real complaints I do not have. I have a wonderful kind, loving, sexy, handsome and hilarious husband who absolutely adores our daughter and loves me to pieces (though I often wonder why). I have a healthy, curious, beautiful baby girl who is the light of my world. We have our families, who are healthy and happy, though sometimes very far away. We own a home, have money in the bank, food in the fridge and can afford for me to dedicate myself now to raising our daughter.

So many people have so much less. Why do I deserve such happiness when there are so many others suffering today?

When I lived in San Francisco I saw homelessness on a daily basis. People down on their luck, people in need of rehab programs or mental care, people who the world had turned their backs on. All this surrounded by us yuppie kids, throwing our dot-com money around. It was easy to become numb to them, to the men sitting in doorways in sleeping bags, cardboard boxes used as shelters; the people who would talk to themselves or to no one, pushing shopping carts with their only possessions. The women, even the children I saw begging for money on the corner. I would give them a dollar here or there, rolling my window down at the intersection of Geary and Van Ness to hand the veteran with one leg something. Yet what was that dollar really? I would probably blow $50 easily that night going out, not including cab fare. For that same $50 they could have a hotel room for a night or two, a warm meal, perhaps buy a coat and shoes at Good Will.

It is easy to feel like I have done nothing while enjoying my own good fortune and happiness. What really separates me from the homeless in SF or anywhere else? Luck of the draw? Good health? Not much more than that. In fact what separates me from a child in Africa who is starving? From a woman dying of AIDS, from a child prostitute in Asia? I basically had the privilege of being born healthy in a wealthy country to loving parents. I had the privilege of clean water, healthcare and an education.

I alone can not change the world; I can not make a difference for all those people who do not have as much privilege as me. But I can try and make a dent in it, look at my luck and try to bring some luck to someone else. I can try to make the world just a bit better place for my daughter to live in. Mr. P and I will not be exchanging gifts this year for Christmas; instead we will each give to one of our favorite charities.

This holiday season I urge you to do the same. Look at your lives and all that you have, and then see if you can give a little of what you have to bring something to someone who is less fortunate. I have listed here links to just a few of the major charities and non-profit organizations that could use your donations. If I have missed one you feel should be here please let me know.

Acumen Fund (Clean Water)
American Cancer Society
American Heart Association
Children International
Direct Relief International
Feed the Children
Freedom From Hunger
The Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis & Malaria
National Coalition for the Homeless
March of Dimes
The Nature Conservancy
Planned Parenthood Federation of America
Save The Children
STOP AIDS NOW
UNICEF
United Cerebral Palsy Association
United Way
War Child International
World Food Programme
World Wildlife Fund

And for the person who has everything, this Christmas why not buy them a charity gift basket or gift certificate from JustGive.org.

Finally - 100 things about me!

2005-12-10T17:17:00.000+01:00

I had started this a few months back, but Mr. P turned off the computer without saving it, and I was too frustrated to start again, that is till now.

Attempt #2 - 100 Things about me:

1. I am originally from San Francisco, CA.
2. I currently live in the Netherlands.
3. I am a short person in a land of giants.
4. I moved here in November 2001.
5. My husband, Mr. P, is Dutch.
6. We met in a bar in the Height
7. Powered by a few drinks I pulled up a stool and introduced myself to him.
8. This was done on a dare.
9. For doing this I won a pack of cigarettes.
10. I also unexpectedly won the heart of the most wonderful man.
11. He won my heart too.
12. We dated for exactly 1 year before he asked me to move in with him.
13. But we practically lived together already, just in two homes.
14. We talked about moving to the Netherlands.
15. It happened sooner than we thought. His company gave him 2 weeks notice that he was being sent back to his home office, in Holland.
16. I packed up my entire life to come with him.
17. I never have regretted that decision.
18. Sometimes I hate it here.
19. Sometimes I love it.
20. I took a year of Dutch courses at night.
21. I do not believe I speak good Dutch, even though others say I do.
22. I just got my Dutch citizenship.
23. It is very cool to have two passports.
24. Now I can visit Cuba.
25. I do not feel either Dutch or American.
26. I graduated Summa cum Laude from CSU Chico.
27. I drank too much in uni.
28. But man did I have fun!
29. My major was Media Arts (video/film/radio etc).
30. I worked as a camera woman for the evening news when I was still a student.
31. I never worked in my major after graduation.
32. Instead I took a job in advertising as a Media Planner.
33. I hated it and eventually quit.
34. I have done various jobs since.
35. I am not fit for the office life.
36. I am now working as a CHO (chief household officer)
37. I love staying at home with my daughter.
38. I am the oldest of 4 kids.
39. I have two sisters and a brother.
40. I want 3 kids.
41. My parents are divorced, but have not re-married.
42. They split when I was 20.
43. I miss my family.
44. I try to visit twice a year.
45. I talk to my mom on the phone all the time, it is not the same.
46. Mr. P proposed to me after taking me to the Opera and dinner.
47. I was in my pajamas and getting ready for bed when he popped the question.
48. We got married in St Lucia, just the two of us.
49. It was incredibly romantic and relaxing.
50. We tried to get pregnant for 5 months before succeeding.
51. I planned a home birth without any drugs.
52. After 36 hours I was begging to get an epidural.
53. I was transferred by my midwife to the hospital since I was not progressing.
54. After 52 hours I gave birth to my Pumpkin.
55. I immediately forgot about the pain.
56. I broke my wrist when I was 23.
57. I was backpacking with my sister and fell on the way back out of the park.
58. Some other packers went and got the ranger.
59. I had to drive myself to the hospital, while my sister shifted gears.
60. They gave me some good drugs.
61. I asked for a waterproof cast because I was going whitewater rafting the next weekend.
62. The doctor laughed at me and told me no I was not.
63. I still had the cast when I met Mr. P.
64. He does not like backpacking, so I have not gone since.
65. My favorite color is turquoise.
66. My favorite season is spring.
67. My favorite food is sushi.
68. My favorite drink is a margarita.
69. I do not eat sushi while drinking margaritas though - ick.
70. My first trip abroad was to Costa Rica when I was 19.
71. I backpacked in Monte Verde Cloud Forest for 10 days.
72. I saw howler monkeys and some sort of wild cat.
73. I have since visited 9 other countries not including Holland.
74. I would love to travel around the world for a year.
75. This year I will visit country #10, Austria.
76. Before I die I want to go on a safari.
77. I would also like to win the lotto and own a yacht.
78. I do not often buy lotto tickets so the above is a long shot.
79. I have moved 14 times since I turned 18.
80. I am now 29, the last time I moved I was 25.
81. That is 14 moves in 7 years. An average of twice a year
82. We are thinking of selling and moving again.
83. I collect shot glasses, from every place I visit.
84. Photography is a hobby of mine.
85. I take way to many photos.
86. I used to paint and draw, but never liked what I created.
87. At one point though I wanted to major in art.
88. My father did not approve.
89. I am over critical of myself.
90. I am never happy with my decisions.
91. I also obsess too much about silly things.
92. Like what people think about me.
93. I die my hair blond.
94. I am not happy with my body.
95. I have never been on a diet, I do not believe in them, only exercise.
96. I do not exercise enough.
97. I hate the gym, except the climbing gym.
98. I have not been climbing since Pumpkin was conceived.
99. I gave my sister my gear, so I do not think I will go again.
100. I can not believe I made it to 100!!!

Christmas trees and feverish tears

2005-12-08T12:34:00.000+01:00

I waited as long as I could. Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet had barely left the country, but Tuesday I had to get my Christmas tree. Unable to haul a tree home while also carrying Pumpkin, I sent Mr. P to work with the orders not to come home without a tree that evening, and he knew well the consequences. Along with the orders were my very specific tree selection criteria. It had to be taller than me (not to big of a feat, I just barely break the 5 foot mark), and nice and full, with no gaping holes. It also had to have a long narrow trunk at the bottom, to ease the process of getting it into the tree stand. I have had enough in the past few years of sawing off branches to get the tree in the stand.

Well Mr. P outdid himself. He not only came home with an absolutely beautiful tree which covered all my criteria. He also got the biggest tree I have ever had, and for a bargain price to boot! This tree is massive; we had to move the dining table to fit it into its home. I am glad I bought that extra strand of lights, just in case. We would have never been able to do without them.

So Tuesday evening we put on the Christmas music, lit a fire in the fire place, made up some hot cocoa and decorated the tree. Except for the usual frustrations that come with stringing the lights, it was a wonderful tree decorating evening. Our normally exclusively purple and silver ornaments have some company this year from little Sesame Street figures my mother sent for Pumpkin. But they blend in well and are a good way of slowly breaking me into the soon to be kiddie dominated tree. I am one happy chappy. The best part though was the look on Pumpkin's face when she saw the lit up tree Wednesday morning. She stared and giggled, and when I held her up started swatting at the ornaments.

Unfortunately her joy was short lived. She had seemed and bit fussy and barely drank her bottle that morning. By noon, the fussyness had become full blown screaming and she had a fever of 102. The doctor says it could be her teeth, but I think it is more likely a virus. She is not drooling like with her last teeth, and there are no teething bumps. Plus she seems like it hurts her to swallow. Last night was hard. We struggled to get some fluids in her before we put her in bed, and she woke up quite often crying. Mr. P and I took turns getting up through the night and holding her till she fell back to sleep. It felt like she was a newborn again. Her fever was gone this morning, but is back now. Luckily she drank most her bottle with breakfast, though the lunchtime bottle did not go in. She will not even go near her solid foods, but right now I just want to keep her hydrated. I feel so helpless, I do not know what is wrong, and besides giving her Tylenol to take down the fever I can not make her better. I just hope she gets over this soon; it just kills me to know she does not feel good.

Sunday evenings and socks full of vegetables

2005-12-05T20:04:00.000+01:00

Want to know how I spent my Sunday evening? Really you do? I spent it sitting in bed with a sock full of frozen spinach held to my face. Yes, you read that right, a sock holding a bag of frozen spinach, (or the poor woman’s ice pack).

It all started innocently enough. Mr. P and I were feeling a bit in ‘the mood’ and decided to head to bed early (OK, perhaps it is not really that innocent). But being the sick obsessive parents we are, we stopped first to look in on Pumpkin like we do every evening. This is where disaster struck. As Mr. P leaned down to plant a kiss on Pumpkin’s chubby cheek, she woke up. Startled, and wanting to quickly get out of her room before she fully awoke and found her crazy parents staring over her, he proceeded to stand back up and move out of the room at the same time. However due to the dark I was unaware of his haste to leave the room and I at the same time was heading towards the crib. Boom! Ouch! The right side of Mr. P’s forehead collided with maximum force into the bridge of my nose. I grabbed my nose, which I thought was certainly broken and stumbled from the room tears streaming down my face. Pumpkin, startled by the commotion of her parent’s collision started to cry, and Mr. P stumbled after me while frantically yelling ‘where’s a mirror, where’s a mirror?’, also horrified that he had broken my nose.

I managed to get to our bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed. By that point I realized I was not bleeding, so most likely my nose was not broken. Mr. P ran down the stairs and grabbed the first thing he could find in the freezer, a massive bag of frozen spinach. Back up the stairs he came and handed me the bag-o-spinach. I laid my entire face onto the bag like it was a pillow, while he laid his forehead next to me.

Having recovered from the shock we suddenly found the humor in this situation. Here we were, in bed, both of our throbbing heads attached to a bag of frozen vegetables. This lead to a discussion of the common treatments for bangs to the head. As we tried to work out why people applied raw meat to their faces to prevent a black eye, Mr. P mentioned that his mother would apply butter to a head bump. Here we were, heads plastered to the spinach, discussing steak and butter. “You hungry or something” I asked laughing. It sure seemed like there was a dinner in the making – butter, spinach and steak.

However that bag-o-spinach was just to cold for my poor head, and it was a bit ridiculous to be holding a pound of vegetables to my face. So Mr. P went back down to the kitchen and separated out some of the spinach into a Ziploc baggie. Then he rustled through his sock drawer and stuck the baggie into what I hope was a clean sock. So that is how I came to spend my Sunday evening holding a sock full of frozen spinach to my face. Needless to say our ‘romantic’ intentions went out the window, and we both went to bed with massive headaches.

I am happy to report though I have survived the incident without a black eye. I was most certain that I would look in the mirror this morning to find myself with a massive shiner, sure to convince all the neighbors that Mr. P was horrifically beating me. But I am just sporting a nice bump above my left eyebrow and a very sore nose. And man what a story I had to tell the internet!

We're famous!

2005-12-02T20:13:00.000+01:00

Hehehe, the photo I entered below in the contest by the Queen of Spain was featured on Blogging Baby today! Pumpkin and I are famous! :-)

Greetings to all of you who may be visiting via Blogging Baby, hope you enjoy your stay!

Revisiting the poopie diapers

2005-12-02T14:26:00.000+01:00

If you have been reading my blog for a while, you will already be aware that I like to post about the contents of Pumpkin's diapers, or more specifically poop. If you are new to this site, and think you may continue to pop in for a visit every now and then, I warn you this will probably not be the last post you read about poop. I also suggest if you do not understand a mothers obsession with her child’s diapers, and prefer not to read about it, you just skip this post altogether.

Pumpkin has never been a predictable pooper, while her movements were usually once a day after the introduction of formula; we could sometimes skip a day, or be bombarded by three poops in 12 hours. When we switched to the colic formula her nice, not so offensive poop switched to an alga green liquidly mess which often exploded out of her diapers and up her back, sometimes nearly reaching her forehead. But nothing could have prepared me for what I now find lurking in her diapers, and how often I find it.

Solid food has definitely brought her poop to new levels. It seems that with their immature digestive systems, foods often exit the bodies of babies in the same colors they went in. This means with Pumpkin, who eats lots of yummy orange carrots, butternut squash and sweet potatoes, that her poop is often very-very orange. However since she also eats her share of green beans and zucchini, she does have the intermittent green poop.

Now that she is up to three varied meals a day including fruit, veg, potatoes, rice cereal and yogurt, not only the color of her bowel movements has changed, but also the overall appearance. As I said, the colic formula she has been on had the unfortunate side effect of liquefying her poop. But now the addition of solids seems to have countered this and we only rarely have the diaper explosion. But it seems that what comes in often comes out differently. Sometimes her poop is a play-dough like mass stuck to her nether regions, other times it looks like she has excreted a mass of gritty sand or oatmeal.

Most surprising of all though is how often she now soils her diapers. Wednesday I had changed a total of 4 poopie diapers before 11am, and by 9am this morning I had changed three poops since she awoke at 7:45. In fact no sooner had I changed poopie diaper number one, marveling at the smooth round ball she had excreted, was she grimacing and grunting. One minute later that awful odor was emanating from her behind and I was carrying her upstairs for another diaper change. I guess I should be happy we are a cloth diapering household, otherwise she would be single-handedly filling all the landfills with her poopie diapers.

Selective Sight

2005-12-01T13:42:00.000+01:00

Last night Mr. P and I had a discussion (you know raised irritated voices but not quite yelling) when I mentioned his selective senses.  Most men seem to have these, the most common is selective hearing, when a man can tune out anything they may not want to hear, or completely block you out when watching football/soccer etc.  But with Mr. P his selective sight annoys me the most.

Last night he decided to go upstairs for the evening completely ignoring the four mugs and scattered coasters on the coffee table.  I just did not understand why he did not put these away before turning in for the night.  Yes, I can just as easily also put the mugs in the sink, and I did before going upstairs and confronting him, but I did not see why he ignored the mess in the first place.   He took this very personal; feeling attacked about what he does / does not do about the house.  Yet that was not my problem, as he does help out around the house (though mostly when asked, not via his own will).

My issue last night was with how he manages to just ignore things and walk past them when they are obviously cluttering up the house.   Like his underwear on the bedroom floor when the laundry basket is les than 5 steps away in the bathroom.  Or the pile of junk slowly accumulating on the dining table, dumped there as he comes in the house.  The mess he leaves in the kitchen, crumbs on the cutting board, tea rings on the counter.   The silverware that does not get washed but somehow gets left on the bottom of the sink when everything else gets cleaned.   The saw that is still laying half under the guest bed since it was last used in that room over 3 months ago.   These things irritate the hell out of me.  I can not just walk past the clutter and ignore it.  Things left lying around make our normally tidy home feel very dirty.  So I do not understand how he can ignore it, pretend it is not there, or just not see it at all till I point it out.

Last nights argument – sorry discussion – ended with us both irritated.  Mr. P, feeling personally attacked, me feeling frustrated by his selective sight and his denial of it.   As I turned out the lights and rolled over in bed, strategically facing my back towards him, Mr. P said what I think is the most telling thing of all.  He does not see the clutter and the mess, because he does not care.

He just does not care.  He does not care if the house is cluttered and untidy, and he does not care that it bugs me.  I guess I need to find something not to care about… something that he does, and we will see what happens then.  In the mean time any suggestions on how to make him care just a little bit, enough to see the dirty underwear at least?

Yummy Mummy

2005-12-01T08:37:00.000+01:00

The Queen of Spain is hosting a photo contest. I decided to enter under the category of "Yummy Mummy". This photo was taken after Pumpkin had nursed. This time had miraculously ended with neither of us in tears, and she fell asleep resting her head on my boob, full of my yummy milk. Wish me luck, I want to win me a "Yummy Mummy" Thong :-)

SinterKlaas

2005-11-29T12:03:00.000+01:00

It is quickly nearing December 5th and the Dutch holiday of Sinterklaas (or St. Nicolas Day). I am not one to insult any culture’s holidays, but this one rubs me the wrong way, and has since I was introduced to my first Zwarte Piet (Black Piet) 4 years ago.

In Holland Christmas is a low-key affair, and Sinterklaas attracts the most festivity (though the commercialism of Christmas is slowly taking hold here too). For the weeks leading up to the holiday, white haired Sinterklaas (similar to Santa, but thinner, dressed as a bishop and slightly less jolly) are seen all over the streets accompanied by their man-servant, Zwarte Piet.

Zwarte Piet is usually a white person with their face painted in layers of dark makeup wearing a fuzzy wig and sporting thick red lips. They always wear colorful costumes and are adorned in gold earrings and feathered hats. They are also often portrayed as simple almost childish people. Their roll is to assist Sint by delivering presents down chimneys and recording the names of naughty and nice children in the book of names. On the evening of Sinterklaas children who have been good receive presents from the white skinned Sint, and naughty children are told they will be put in bags and taken back to Spain by the black skinned Zwarte Piet.
Most Dutch don’t seem bothered by the black skinned character and most lightly claim that Zwarte Piet has black skin from sliding down the chimney, though one would think that if the black is really soot, Zwarte Piet would also have sooty clothing and there would be no need for the kinky hair and fat red lips. Most outsiders, like me, though see the character as an old fashioned stereotype and a racist symbol. The real origins of Zwarte Piet are unknown, but it is said that he is most likely Saint Nicolas’ Moorish servant.

What I find hard to reconcile is this obviously racist character with the very liberal attitude of most Dutch. I mean Holland was the first country to allow gay marriage, and both marijuana and prostitution are legal. The thing is that the majority of Dutch are not racist, and they do not see Zwarte Piet as a racist symbol. Parents who paint their children’s faces black for the occasion are not doing something they see as racist. This is just a tradition dating back many years and they see no need to do anything to change it. Yet when you ask most Dutch from Surinamese or Antilles ancestry, they do not celebrate the holiday with their children at home. To me this says that they do find the character offensive.

My problem is though, what to do with my daughter? She is too young to enjoy the holiday, though we will celebrate it this year with Mr. P’s family. But in the years to come what will I do when she wants to paint her face black like Zwarte Piet because all her friends at school are also doing it? I do not plan to boycott the holiday, and will allow her to celebrate the day both in school and with Mr. P’s family (since we plan to spend most every Christmas with my family in the US, I would not deny his family the holiday festivities with their grandchild). I will even buy gifts to put in her shoe from Sint. But I draw the line at painting her face black. How, and when (if at all) should I explain to her my objections to Zwarte Piet? Or am I just being too American and too overly sensitive, too PC in my reaction? What would you do?

Happy 6 Month Birthday Pumpkin

2005-11-26T08:51:00.000+01:00

Happy 6 month birthday baby! I can not believe you are already half a year old. Half a year ago you burst into my life and altered it forever. I am a forever different, more patient, younger woman thanks to you. I can’t help but lay on the ground with you and play with your toys, to just sit and hold you and enjoy the way you grab at my face and pull on my hair. I miss you when I put you down for bed at night, and can’t wait to get you up again in the morning. The way you greet each and every day with laughter and a smile, how you giggle when your papa walks in the room, it makes me see the world, if just for a moment, through your innocent eyes. When we go for walks I stop and point out the passing dog, the blooming flowers and the changing leaves. We bring bread to feed the ducks, and take the longer route just to pass through the park. I look at things differently now, notice how you may see everything, new and fascinating and so beautiful.

You are becoming such a big girl, have grown so much from the little 2.9kg parcel that was handed into my waiting arms. You were so helpless then. In the last six months you became a little person, who smiles and laughs, babbles and screeches, and knows her mama and papa. You can sit up and can play with your toys, can roll over from front to back, and back to front, and now do that repeatedly to get across the room. You eat two meals a day of fruit and vegetables, and devour them all. You even like green beans, much to your mama’s surprise. I can see your quirky personality, get a glimpse of the girl you are becoming, the woman you will some day be.

I now understand how a mother will do anything for her child, how she would put her life down for that of her child. I want to change the world for you, make it a softer, kinder place. Baby, I can not explain the way you grab at my heart. You are so beautiful, so perfect. Your tears make me frantic, your smiles and laughter melt me. I love you so much, I am so glad you came into my life. Now I just ask you to please slow down, mama is not ready for you to grow up just yet.

She is on the move

2005-11-22T15:36:00.000+01:00

We have movement people. It is not forward movement, and does not remotely resemble crawling, but my Pumpkin is officially on the move. If I put her on her belly on the floor she is soon in a new position about 1-2 feet from her original location. She does this cute attempt at scooting where she rolls on her right shoulder and pushes with her left foot. This tends to move her to the right side, but does often get her to the out of reach toy. Sometimes though she instead manages to scoot backwards. I am not quite sure how that happens. Give me another week and I may grasp her method. But the funniest is how she is trying to move forward. She lifts both arms and both legs in the air and rocks/bounces frantically on her belly. Of course she does not get anywhere doing this, but she gets plenty of laughs from whoever is watching. I captured plenty of video of it this weekend to show her future suitors…

But this glimpse at her soon to be mobility has put Mr. P's and my efforts at baby proofing in overdrive. The heater covers are almost done, and all the outlets have the childproof things in them. The corner protectors have been stuck to all visible sharp corners and I have purchased the door stoppers. We still need to do the drawer and cabinet latches and buy the stair gates (all 4 of them!). Am I forgetting anything? Any suggestions from you experienced parents?

Memories - Phonecalls in the night

2005-11-19T15:26:00.000+01:00

I will never forget the way the ringing phone jolted me out of my sleep that morning. I looked at my clock; it was shortly after 1am. I am unsure now of what day of the week it was, I think it was a Thursday. It was all so long ago. But that ringing phone, I can hear it like it was yesterday. I am not sure how long it took me to answer, probably no more than 4 rings, otherwise my answering machine would have picked up. I must have said hello, even with phone calls in the middle of the night I still answer with a polite, though puzzled hello. On the other end was my friend, and she was sobbing. I asked her what was wrong. What she said, those words, I will never forget.

“There was a car accident… Shirley… dead.”

As those words made their trip from my ear to my sleepy brain, and the processing of that information began, my mom stormed in my room to demand an explanation for the phone call in the middle of the night. As she started to yell “You better tell your friends…” I chucked the phone at her and ran, crying from my room. I did not make it further than a few meters, collapsing in a heap on the floor of the hallway. My mother must have retrieved the phone and spoken with my friend, since her arms were soon around me.

She pulled me onto her lap and there we both sat crying. I am vaguely aware of my father and my siblings emerging from their rooms, of my mother sending them back. I am unsure how long we sat there, me, a teenager, curled on my mothers lap like a child, sobbing, her stroking my hair and sobbing with me. I know why I cried that night, it was for the loss of my best friend, a wonderful and vibrant girl, who could light up the room when she walked in it. Why my mother cried, I don’t know. I think her tears were for the loss of my friend, and for my pain. But I also think she sobbed for my friend’s mother, who had to have been going through the ultimate unthinkable pain of loosing a child. And perhaps she sobbed because she was glad, glad it was not me lying in a morgue that night.

Eventually I went back to my room, and my mom to hers. Though the next morning one could see neither of us had slept. The days that followed, realization that this was no dream, the nightmare of the wake and funeral; it is all a blur of eerily vivid memories entangled together. One thing, though that stood out to me then, and stands out even more for me today, was the day before the funeral. It must have been the most awful day of Shirley’s mother’s life. It was Mother’s Day.

Lessons Learned

2005-11-18T07:01:00.000+01:00

Lesson #1 – Make Backups!

Earlier this week Mr. P bought a 250 GB external hard drive since I had managed to fill up the 80GB one we got just last year. He had not even had a chance to install the new hard drive when the 80GB drive went poof. Now we are looking at recovery costs for 80GB of photos and video. Luckily we have most all our photos backed up on DVD and on Smugmug.com. And I always keep the original DV tape of all our video. So I think the real losses are very minimal. But I do not look forward to uploading all the video again. Does anyone have any better backup ideas? A DVD is good for photos and data, but way to small for all our un-edited video footage. Plus I would like to have a backup we can store out of the house in case of (god-forbid) fire. Update: seems it will cost over €400 to try to recover the data on the hard drive. Since we have almost everything backed up I will just have to declare the rest a loss.

Lesson #2 – Sometimes it is better just to lie

This is a lesson for my mother. She always taught us to tell the truth, and most of the times the truth is best. However, mom, sometimes it is better just to lie. Like when you send a package to us with Christmas gifts, please do not declare the true value of all items in the box, and NEVER mention you are shipping DVDs. We just had to pay €26.50 in taxes for our own Christmas gifts. European governments want you to shop in Europe, not in America, so when they see you are sending children’s toys, books and DVDs from America, they tax! Especially with DVDs. Importing DVDs, for some strange reason (which goes along with the fact DVDs have different region settings), is a big no-no, including extra fines. That is over 16% tax on every cent you declared. So next time make up something and say it is worth only $20. Didn’t you learn your lesson last year when you told the customs guy upon re-entering California that you had tulip bulbs in your bag? He took them away didn’t he? Now if you had just fibbed, you would have nice tulips in your garden, not his wife.

Sisters

2005-11-11T08:24:00.000+01:00

The other day CityMama, who I read religiously, posted a beautiful letter to her daughter Bunny, expressing how lucky her younger daughter Wallie is to have her as a big sister. As I read her post I was both crying and smiling. I am the eldest of four children, three girls and a boy, and can testify to the power of sisterhood. While there were times that we fought and screamed and even had to have our parents physically pull us apart, there is nothing quite like the bond I have with my sisters. I love my baby brother to death, and most anyone who knows us can tell you that I act as his second mom, but the bond and understanding that I share with my sisters is completely different.

My sisters are my best friends. They know every gory detail about my life, every stupid mistake I have ever made and every silly thing I have ever done. They remember the time I ran away from home, how I plastered my bedroom walls with New Kids on The Block posters and my later unhealthy obsession with glam rock. I in turn know everything about them. We joke sometimes with each other, teasing about those moments one would often rather forget; like the time I broke the neighbor’s car window skipping rocks in the street, or how my sister would puke on almost every car trip and had a special bucket in the car for her. But behind that joking is the understanding and the affection that only we share. As we grow older that bond changes and grows stronger as we have more and more in common. We’ve shared loves and broken hearts, laughter and tears. While everything may not be explicitly discussed, we are always there to listen and support each other. Our journeys into adulthood were only made easier with each other there.

I miss my sisters, and wish we did not live a continent apart. We try to call each other often, though not as much as I would like. When the phone rings at strange hours I know it is my sister, home from the late shift at the restaurant, or up late studying for a midterm or final. I retreat to the bedroom to talk, happy she is there, only a phone call away. I can see her sitting on her porch swing, sipping a glass of wine, smoking a cigarette, relaxing after a long day. Sometimes the thousands of miles slip away and I am sitting there on the swing next to my sister, talking and laughing, enjoying the evening with her.

Fall has Arrived

2005-11-11T08:17:00.000+01:00

After the warmest October on record, with temperatures resembling those normally seen in August, fall has arrived in all its brilliance.

My Mommy Guilt (long)

2005-11-09T13:12:00.000+01:00

Being a parent seems to come with lots of guilt. Every mom I speak to has some sort of guilt she is constantly carrying around, some feeling that in one way or another she did not do the best by her child. My biggest mommy guilt is that I did not succeed with breastfeeding. It is a guilt that smacks me in the face every day when I see a nursing mother or read on a blog anything about breastfeeding, a guilt that sometimes consumes me. It is a guilt that I need to let go of, I am just not sure how.

Before Pumpkin was born I read every breastfeeding chapter and pamphlet religiously. I regurgitated all I read about the health benefits to everyone who asked and swore I would breastfeed my baby for at least 6 months. I purchased two little plastic suction cups for a ridiculous 75 euro to pull out my inverted nipples and wore them every night up till the last two months of my pregnancy when they became a risk of inducing pre-term labor. I knew it would not be easy; I was prepared for the sore nipples, for the difficulty latching and the engorgement. Mr. P also read all the literature and was 100% in areement with me to breastfeed. We knew exactly what we were going to do, that is till reality slipped into our plans.

Due to a very long labor and medical intervention Pumpkin was born with little desire to nurse. After 52 hours I was exhausted, but knew I needed to get her to nurse in the ‘golden hour’ for the best start. Laying there, still in the delivery room, the nurse tried to manipulate my nipple and get Pumpkin to latch. She just would not. Great start I thought, but at that point too tired really to object when the nurse said to just wait. I am not sure the next time I attempted nursing, my hospital stay is a blur of nurses grabbing my breasts trying to help my baby latch to my inverted nipples. As soon as I had to nurse my nipples pulled out by the suction cups went right back to their shy inverted state. Every nurse seemed to say something else and I was completely confused and frustrated. Then one nurse weighed pumpkin before and after a nursing session and came back to tell me “sorry, but she drank nothing”. I tried to argue that the first few days all they get is a little of the colestrium, and that of course she did not put on any weight while nursing. She explained that Pumpkin had not yet urinated and they were not allowed to release us until she did so. Due to my inability to argue effectively in Dutch, my lack of overall confidence, and an overwhelming desire to get out of the hospital (I had planned on a home birth to avoid having to be in the hospital at all) I submitted when she said they wanted to give her a bit of formula. Shit, I could not even stick to my guns for 1 day.

After 2 nights in the hospital, Pumpkin peed out that formula and we were released from hospital. Here in the Netherlands you get home care for a week after you give birth. They do minor checks on mom and baby (reporting to the midwife who also makes 3-4 house calls), show you how to care for your new bundle of joy and help with household tasks. When our homecare nurse asked what her highest priorities should be we responded helping to establish breastfeeding. I have to say she was WONDERFUL, I cried my eyes out when she left her last day. I had no idea how I was to manage without her. She had numerous suggestions on how to establish a better latch with my inverted nipples showed me various breastfeeding holds and assured me I was doing well. Before she left us my milk supply was excellent and Pumpkin was above her birth weight without any help from formula.

Unfortunately while I could get her to latch with assistance, we were still struggling on our own. She would cry and scream every time when she could not get the nipple in her mouth. Once she got the nipple she would suck for a few minutes and release screaming again. We would have to start the whole latching process again, me trying to manipulate my nipple, Mr. P holding her arms back (because she would push away in her excitement to nurse) as I placed the nipple in her mouth hoping she would take it. One nursing session would take well over an hour, and one to one and a half hours later she was crying for more. I was stressing more and more. I felt I could not leave the house because there was no way I could discreetly nurse in public with her flailing arms and screaming. Also since I was pumping for a minute before each nursing session to try and pull out my nipples, there was no way I could do that in public. I was feeling caged up in my house afraid to even go to the store because she might get hungry.

After two weeks Mr. P went back to work. I nursed Pumpkin in her room at night to try and avoid waking him, however since almost every time I nursed I ended up crying along with Pumpkin in frustration he would stumble into the room to calm us both down. During the day no one was there to help and while she would nurse well once or twice, the most times were disasters. I was exhausted and frustrated and starting to dislike my own daughter. I dreaded when she would wake again to eat. I cried all day and called Mr. P continuously at work. It was not going well at all, definitely not as we planned. When the well baby clinic nurse made a house call I mentioned my troubles and how I was thinking about switching to formula. She, just like everyone else, said “it will get better, just stick to it”. But when? When would it get better? Where was that bond you are supposed to feel? I hated breastfeeding; no one said that I would feel like this – not one of those books or pamphlets said that some mothers do hate breastfeeding. What was wrong with me? That night Mr. P bought a box of formula at my request. We decided that while breastmilk was important, it was also important for Pumpkin to have a happy mother, not a mother who cried all day and wished her baby would not wake up.

Pumpkin took to the bottle like a champ. For a while I pumped to relieve the encouragement and gave her bottles of breastmilk rotated with formula. Then my milk dried up and she was officially a formula baby. There is not a day since that I do not question my decision. I wonder if I had just stuck to a bit longer, if I had had more support from somewhere. Perhaps it would have gotten better, or perhaps I would have become more and more depressed. I do not know. Mr. P says I need to get over my guilt; we did what we did because it was best for us. We gave her a good start with a month of breastmilk, and formula is not poison. She is thriving on it, and our relationship is so much better than when I wished she would not wake up. Somehow though I can not let it go, I see disapproving looks when I feed my daughter (half of which I am sure are in my head) and feel I have to constantly justify our decision to everyone. I hope breastfeeding does go better with our next child, and I think I have learned much from our experience. But mostly I hope that eventually this guilt goes away.

Promapalooza!!!!

2005-11-08T08:18:00.000+01:00

Yipee its Promapalooza!! Unfortunately most of my awful photos are buried in my moms attic back in California, but I was able to find these in my box-o-photos. These are by far not my worst dressed or hair photos, but they are all I have here :-(

Homecoming 1992 (Notice how the hair is longer on one side? This was done on purpose!)

Prom 1994

You know what is scary is how unhappy I was with my body then. I actually thought I had a big butt! Man what I would not do to be that skinny again!

PROMAPALOOZA contestants:

Sarah and the Goon Squad

Aliblog

Live from the Wang of America

I'd Like to Buy a Vowel

Because I'm Your Father

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Daily Quote

2005-11-08T08:16:00.000+01:00

In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anythingdone, ask a woman.

-Margaret Thatcher-

Attack of the Snot Monsters

2005-11-07T09:27:00.000+01:00

Saturday night the snot monsters came to pay us a visit. Sunday morning Pumpkin and I both woke up with nasty booger dripping colds. She seems to be handling it pretty well, though for some reason she keeps sticking out her tongue. Mr. P and I both have to laugh as our little gal looks up at us, with snot running down her face, sticks out her tongue and makes the most adorable groaning sound. “ugggg – ogggg”. I on the other hand have turned into a whining sniveling baby. I hate colds, you just feel miserable, but not miserable enough to shut out the world and retreat to your bed. Give me the flu any day over a cold. At least with the flu I can say “I’m sick – I’m not going to the grocery store… you will just have to do it”. But with a cold, I just have to trudge about moaning and groaning doing my daily shit. And flu’s last only a few days, where I usually get colds for weeks. Lets hope the snot monsters make this a short visit.

Today's Quote

2005-11-07T09:12:00.000+01:00

I just love quotes, so I though I would start posting a daily quote. Here is the first one :-)

Whatever women must do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult.

-Charlotte Whitton-

Kitty Kitty

2005-11-06T10:00:00.000+01:00

Our cat is still at the vet. We dropped him off Thursday evening and he is still there, refusing to give them a pee sample. Personally I am a bit concerned that he has not urinated since Thursday evening, but the vet says this is actually good, since it most likely means nothing is wrong with his kidneys (which is what we feared). Supposedly when an animal has kidney issues they tend to drink and urinate a lot. He on the other hand is holding it in for whatever reason. But the sooner he pees, the sooner he can come home.

In the past three and a half years we have had him, he has cost us a fortune in vet bills. He had kidney stones, which he receives a daily pill for, and a special dietary food (which makes him FAT!), but even with this he still had recurring attacks which landed him at the vet where they helped get the stones out of his urethra. The last time they decided to cut him open and clear out his bladder, suspecting a large stone was caught there breaking off bits which then blocked his urethra. This seemed to have done the trick, and we went over half a year with no calls to the vet. Until last month, when he started vomiting all over the house. The vet tested his kidneys and decided it was most likely a stomach infection, and sent us home with pills. At first this seemed to work, but last week the vomiting started again. So we brought him back to the vet who is completely baffled.

I miss him right now. This is the longest he has stayed at the vet ever. There is not cat scratching our furniture to yell at, and no cat under my feet as I lug Pumpkin's bathwater to her room. I miss him curled up on my legs at night and meowing next to his food bowl in the morning. I miss the way Pumpkin reacts every time she sees him, screeching and flapping her arms wildly in the air. The way he patiently lets her tug his ears and thump his head, while if I did that I would be prying his teeth out of my arm. I keep looking for him, then realizing he is not here. Mr. P is to call the vet today to get an update. I hope they will know something, or at least let him come home. I just want my baby to come home to us.

UPDATE: My kitty is home :-) The vet thinks he just has a really tough stomach infection so we have to continue medication. I am so happy to have him here, even though he immediately started to scratch the dining chairs.

It will just have to wait, my Amstel calls

2005-11-04T19:22:00.000+01:00

I have been bad, there is so much I want to write about but I have not had the time actually to do it. We had another hectic interesting day today which involved a baby group, a very strange mom, getting completely lost in The Hague, running a red light, trains being down due to a collision, and being yelled at as I tried to get on a packed bus with a pram, car seat, diaper bag and overly tired cranky baby. To top that off my cat is sick and is at the vet. Right now I fear he may need to be put down, and am very emotional about it all. So forgive me if I wait till the weekend to really tell you all about it, but right now I just want to drink this cold beer and eat my take out dinner and forget about it all.

Cultural Limbo

2005-10-31T09:33:00.000+01:00

The last few months I have decided that I now live between cultures, and between countries. Even though I have lived in the Netherlands for just under 4 years, have learned the language and have recently been granted citizenship, I do not feel remotely Dutch. I do not like the food, and in fact love to insult the bland fatty diet on a regular basis. I do not eat sandwiches for breakfast and do not like mayo on my French fires. I will not go near raw herring and can not stomach the idea of eating raw hamburger meat spread on a cracker. Unlike everyone here, I do not ride my bike everywhere. In fact it took me almost 3 years here before I even purchased a second hand bike and I have only used it once in the past 10 months. I can’t stand the lack of service in the stores, and the fact that you can’t find anything even slightly unusual. I don’t watch football (soccer for Americans) and do not care if Rotterdam or Amsterdam wins (though I do cheer loudly for Holland during the European and World cups). I have little in common with my neighbors, and would prefer if they just left me be. I miss the idea of privacy in a culture that is very open. Being blond and white skinned I may not stick out like a sore thumb, but I am not Dutch, and wonder if I will ever feel like I fit in here.

Yet being away from America for the last 4 years, I also do not feel completely American anymore. There are things there that just bug the hell out of me. I do not understand the need for an SUV to drive from your house 5 blocks to the supermarket, and can’t contemplate the reason anyone needs to have a Hummer. I roll my eyes when people groan about paying $2 a gallon for gasoline when we pay the equivalent of $6 a gallon. I hate that the minute you get the meal in a restaurant you also get the bill, and that the waitress stops by your table every two minutes to see if everything is alright. I am baffled by the ignorance of so many people, the fact that many have not seen anything outside of their closed little community; yet feel that they can comment on what is right and wrong with the world. I do not understand the need some people have to force their ideals on others, and the fact that religion is creeping its way into government and into everyone’s lives. To me it just feels more and more closed minded and oppressive every time I go back.

When I am in Holland I miss America, and when I am there I can not wait to get back to Europe. So what am I if I do not belong here or there? Will I eventually become more Dutch and feel like this is my home? Will I become more and more alienated with the country of my birth? Or am I to remain in limbo somewhere between cultures, not fitting into either place? And what about Pumpkin? Is she going to be more Dutch than American, or will she be a blend of both? Will she feel comfortable in both places or will she also feel slightly alienated by each? What is the fate of our cross cultural family?

One of Those Days

2005-10-27T20:06:00.000+02:00

Today was just one of those days.  It was too good to be true.  Looking at the weather outside I thought it would be a marvelous day.  We were having weather more appropriate for the end of August than the end of October.  And since it had been cold and rainy and just downright gloomy for the last week I was jumping at the bit to get my ass outside.  So after Pumpkin woke from her noon nap I loaded her into her stroller for a walk into town.  Just yesterday I had bought her a new pair of tennis shoes, cute little white ones with pink stripes, and I had to put them on her and show them off (yes, I am sick people).  The diaper bag was full of all the necessities, she was all strapped in and happily chewing on her toy, and I was ready to get a last glimpse of the sun before it disappeared for good into the autumn and winter gloom.

I should have known the moment I walked out the door it was best to turn around and walk right back in.  I could see it was going to be a pain just to maneuver the stroller past our front door.  On either side of our house the ultra narrow sidewalk was blocked.  On one side by a bike and the other by the combination of a planter box and a car parked half on the curb.  Normally I just cross the street, but the cars were parked bumper to bumper in front of me.  I was almost trapped.  But damn it I needed to get out of the house!  So I maneuvered the stroller here and there and possibly scraped the tailpipe of one of the cars, but I was out and on my way to town.

It is a ten minute stroll to the center of our city along cute canals and past small shop fronts.  It is a walk I do almost daily in good weather, and at least once weekly in bad.  I could walk the route in my sleep, and I guess today I was.  Upon arriving downtown, I stopped to hand Pumpkin her tipsy cup with water.  She has not mastered the art of this cup yet, but can sip assisted and likes to play with it none the less.  I gave her a sip and looked at her feet.  She had only one shoe on!  Where was her other shoe.  I looked behind me, no shoe in sight.  I tore apart the stroller, damn it where did she kick it off!  So I turned right around and walked all the way back home looking for the missing shoe.  No sign of it.  How can it have just disappeared?!?  Who would pick up and walk off with one baby shoe?  So I turned back around and walked again to the center of town.  Again no sight of the shoe.   Well shit, there was nothing I could do, might as well go shopping anyways.

Cussing silently to myself over the loss of the brand new shoe I wandered to a few shops, making a few purchases.  At one of the last shops I looked at Pumpkin in the stroller and realized, she was all wet, the stroller was all wet, and the tipsy cup was empty.   Damn it!  At least it was warm out; there really was nothing I could do.   I dried off the drenched stroller as best I could (who would of thought one little tipsy cup could hold that much water) and proceeded on.  The plan was to sit down on a terrace and have a drink and a snack and feed Pumpkin.  But all the terraces were full.  There was not a single place to sit.  And dammed if I was going to pay to sit inside on a day like this.  Still upset about the shoe, grumpy about my drenched daughter and downright irritated about the lack of anywhere to sit down I stormed back home, looking along the way of course for the missing shoe.

Arriving home I was hungry and thirsty, and Pumpkin was getting hungry and irritable.  She cried and cried as I maneuvered the stroller again to get to our door.  She screamed as I opened the door and howled like a banshee as I took her out of the stroller.  I could not get her out of her wet clothes and a bottle into her mouth quick enough.  Finally, dry and nourished she quieted down, and I was able to get myself something to drink.  I really should not have left the house at all.  Next time the weather is unusually warm, I will just plop my but out in the back yard.

Note: The shoe did finally show up, turns out Pumpkin kicked it off during my stroller maneuvers and a neighbor kid found it shortly after I left.  She picked it up, which is why I could not find it on my return trips.  An hour after we returned home the girl rang our doorbell to see if the shoe belonged to Pumpkin.  She had been taking it to every baby home on the block to find its owner.  So my little Cinderella has her glass slipper back.

I've Been Tagged

2005-10-26T13:13:00.000+02:00

The Queen of Spain tagged me! 7's!

7 things I want to do before I die:
1) Go on a safari
2) Go back to Saint Lucia where I was married
3) Celebrate my 50th wedding anniversary (48½ years to go)
4) Dance at my Daughter’s wedding
5) Sky Dive
6) Travel Around the World
7) Strike it Rich

7 things I cannot do:
1) Roll my tongue
2) Ski
3) Run a Marathon
4) Carry a tune
5) Spell
6) Pronounce anything correct in French
7) Play a team sport.

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1) sense of humor
2) intelligence
3) honesty
4) glasses (mentally linked with #2)
5) ass
6) accent
7) ability to deal with me

(7 things I say most often:
1) Are you hungry?
2) Did you make a poopie?
3) Time for a nap
4) Blog
5) I love you
6) Mommy needs to….
7) I’m hungry

7 celebrity crushes:
1) Val Kilmer
2) Aiden from Sex & the City
3) Brad Pitt
4) Johnny Depp
5) Ewan McGregor
6) Sean Connery
7) Sawyer on Lost (always loved the bad boy)

7 people I want to do this(sorry if you did it already, just ignore me):
1) Mommy’s Busy Take a Number
2) Midnight Musings
3) You and Me and Baby Makes Three
4) Daddy, Papa & Me
5) Slush Turtle
6) The Reign of Ellen
7) Mr. P (honey, just do it in the comments)

Adult Sanctuary or Nursery?

2005-10-25T14:07:00.000+02:00

We used to have a neighbor across the street with two children. I would walk by the house and look in the window every day on my way to and from work. Looking in other peoples windows is normal here, in fact it is a given that if your blinds are open people will look in your window, and if you close your blinds you have something to hide. This stems from WW2 when Holland was occupied by the Nazis and people kept their windows uncovered to prove they were not up to anything illegal or suspicious. But I digress.

So I would look into the living room of this home on a daily basis and see a house completely taken over by the children. There were toys everywhere, a highchair right next to the couch, a play pen sitting near the coffee table. It looked more like a nursery school than a home. The mother usually was either standing ironing in the middle of the room, folding laundry on the couch or shoving food in her children’s mouths.

Mr. P and I would discuss this home regularly as what we did not want our home to look like at any time. We would swear that once we had children the toys would stay in the bedrooms and the living room would remain an adult area where the children were guests. They could play with their toys there and then the toys would be returned to said bedroom. I also quietly told myself that my daily chores, such as laundry and ironing would not find its way from the spare room down to the living room.

Fast forward to today. As I sit here typing on Mr. P’s laptop, which has taken up almost permanent residence on my dining table, I look around our once stylish living and dining room. Next to the no longer so white couches is a playpen full of toys and stuffed animals. Between the TV stand and dining table is a highchair. A play mat lies in front of the fireplace and a bouncy chair sits alongside the coffee table. The baby bjorn lays strewn over the arm of the couch and the diaper bag graces the dining table. A tipsy cup and bib lie on the coffee table. And what is that, partially hidden behind the door to the kitchen, could it be the ironing board, just moved from the spare room so I can iron while watching ER reruns?

Granted, we chose a dark wood playpen with classy toy storage baskets underneath that fits nicely with our furniture, and the old style white wood highchair also fits well. Most often I do manage to put all toys, diaper bags, tipsy cups, spit rags and bibs in their proper homes after Pumpkin goes to bed. However the playmate stays in front of the fireplace unless we are having company, and the bouncy chair has become a normal addition to our furniture.

Only goes to prove that again, you really can not judge another till you walked a mile in their shoes. I am sure that when Pumpkin starts walking, and we add another child or two to our home our adult sanctuary will be completely turned into a nursery. As it is, I am certain that the childless couple that moved into that neighbor's house now look into our window and say "Our home will never look like that".

Yet Another First!

2005-10-24T16:09:00.000+02:00

The saying ‘There is a First Time for Everything’ takes on a different meaning when you are a parent, a more literal meaning. Pre Pumpkin, it meant that I may have never been sky-diving but why the hell not go and try. Just because I have not done it, does not mean I can’t anymore (however, like in the case of skiing, it is often proven one can not teach this old dog a new trick).

I never realized until Pumpkin came into my life just how many firsts there really are, and how obsessively I would check each one off. The first time she rolled over, the first time she grabbed a toy, the first time she brought said toy to her mouth and on and on and on. Hell there are firsts that I did not even think would be firsts till she goes and does it. Just the other day I called Mr. P up to tell excitedly tell him that Pumpkin was making raspberries! It was a first, the first time my daughter put her lips together and proceeded to blow spit bubbles while making the most entertaining fart noise. A baby is a blank little human for whom every new thing is a big first, most often cheered on by a crazy parent (or two) grasping the video camera in one hand and the photo camera in the other.

But in the world of firsts, my Pumpkin has reached some big milestones the last week. First she got two teeth, which erupted suddenly from her gums taking me completely by surprise. Then Friday she started sleeping 12 hours without waking for a feed. 12 hours! From 7pm to 7am. She is such a big girl.

But to top it off, and make me really cry to Mr. P that she is growing up too fast, we gave her her first bite of real food yesterday. She loved it! In fact she finished off the entire cube of sweet potato puree. While much did end up on her face, more made it into her mouth. And though I try not to share too many photos of my Pumpkin on this blog, how can I avoid sharing this adorrable face with you?

When is it Right for Number Two?

2005-10-20T14:11:00.000+02:00

Before Pumpkin was born Mr. P and I discussed how many children we wanted to have and how close together.  We decided the magic number was 3 and the closer together in age the better.  Six months had sounded like a reasonable post-pregnancy recoup time.  That would mean that in one month from now we should put aside the condoms and start trying for baby number two.   However that was all decided prior to the 52 hour labor, the ensuing hospital stay, the weeks of sleep deprivation and the true realization of how much work a newborn really was.

In the final hours of my excruciatingly long labor, when I ended up at hospital with a Picotin drip to try and progress my dilation, I swore to Mr. P that this would be the LAST TIME I would ever do this and he better enjoy this baby because it would be the only one he would have with me.  I am sure I am not the only mother to make this declaration in the heat of labor, and I am sure I am not the only one to think she really meant it.  However the moment Pumpkin was born and handed to me I knew I did not mean it at all.  I looked at Mr. P, both of us glowing, despite two nights lost sleep, with the happiness only such a miracle can bring, and I told him we would most definitely be doing this again.

Then I had to stay two nights in the maternity ward with four screaming babies and three other snoring moms, where I did not get any more sleep than the two nights I had been in labor.  After that we brought Pumpkin home, where she woke us up every 2 hours to be fed, and needed to have her diaper changed even more often.  Where the laundry and dishes and grime plied up and the lack of sleep and lack of experience started to weigh heavily on our shoulders.  I asked myself how ever would we do this again with a toddler in tow?  How did my mom do this with my brother, her fourth child, with three girls also demanding constant attention?   I looked at Mr. P one day, baby blues tears running down my face, and told him perhaps we would only have one child.  We could love her exclusively and give her all the opportunity in the world.   I just could not see myself doing this again.

Then the baby blues went away, Pumpkin slept longer and longer stretches at night and was awake and adorable during the day.  She tugged at my heart with her first smile, her first coo and every time she looked at me.  I wanted not one but ten of her.   How on earth could we not do this again.

So we are back to the magic number of three, the question now is the spacing.  When is the right time for number two?  There is no way we are starting again next month, or any time before Pumpkin is one.  But then?  Is that a good time?  Should we wait longer till when Pumpkin is older and can understand it more and be less work herself.  When she is out of diapers?   Should I spend more quality time with her before bringing another baby into our lives?  One of the women from my pregnancy class is already pregnant with her second, and another is going to start trying next month as soon as her husband returns from Afghanistan.   An old colleague is expecting her second daughter in two months, when her first will be only 15 months.  And Mr. P’s sister is expecting a new lil’ man in February, when my nephew is just 20 months.  I think they are all nuts.  I guess this means that we will not be trying for number two any time soon.  I miss being pregnant, but am not ready to have another baby in the house.  But I wonder would I be ready in nine months?  After all it does not happen immediately, conception could take months and then the baby does not arrive for another nine.  So when would be the best time?  How will I know when we are ready?  How did you know you were ready to start again?

Swimming and Sweet Dreams

2005-10-19T14:07:00.000+02:00

Pumpkin had her first swim lesson today. She loved it, the moment we walked into the water she was smiling and splashing. She giggled and screeched with joy. She gabbed and squealed when another baby was near, and did not even cry when she was dunked under water. I am not sure which she enjoyed more, all the other babies, or the water. But regardless, we will definitely be going again next week.

While the group was all Dutch women, it was nice to be out with other moms. I may not have known the songs the group was singing, and every instruction was not clear, but the women were friendly, and the common ground of having an infant made chit chat easy. It was especially nice to see I am not the only one to not have reverted to her pre-pregnancy belly yet. I am sill not brave enough to change my one piece skirt suit for my pre-pregnancy bicini, but I do feel a tad better about my figure.

But the best part of swimming was that Pumpkin took a 2 hour nap when we came home. Two whole hours of peace to surf the internet and catch up on e-mails! I am not sure what hit me. Normally I am lucky if she naps for more than 45 minutes at noon. Can we swim every day?

Pearly Whites

2005-10-14T11:57:00.000+02:00

I can see the tops of two pearly whites. They are breaking through Pumpkin’s gums, leading to broken nights and a tad bit of fussiness. I can not believe how fast she is growing up. I am both proud of my big girl, and sad that her toothless grin is going be soon be a distant memory. Why does she have to grow up so fast?

It's Official, Pumpkin's First Cold

2005-10-10T10:16:00.000+02:00

Just Saturday Mr. P and I were bragging to friends how Pumpkin has not yet come down with any cold, flu or other baby illness. Beyond her gas problems, she has been a perfectly healthy baby for the last 4 months. But it seems, even with all our knocking on wood during that conversation, we have jinxed it. Our luck has run up. Last night, after giving Pumpkin her bedtime bottle, Mr. P crawled into bed mumbling that little Pumpkin seemed to have a stuffy nose. Low and behold this morning I woke to a little snot monster. She seems to be indifferent to the fact that she is sniffling and wheezing, that every two minutes she has a long booger dripping down her face and that a few times every hour she sneezes, shooting snot across the room (and usually all over mama). I know for a fact that if I was that gooked up in my head I would not be giggling and chatting. Can I hope that she handles all her childhood illnesses with this little trouble?

A Break in the Clouds

2005-10-06T15:17:00.000+02:00

Pumpkin woke up from her nap an hour ago with the biggest grin on her face and a huge messy poop in her diaper. She always wakes up happy, chatting away to her mobile. I can not help but grin ear to ear. Even at 6:00am her smile cheers me right up. Then, heavens upon heavens, she finished her bottle. It was not without a fuss, some crying and lots of farting. But she FINISHED it, to the last drop in 20 minutes!!! Ah, the gods must have decided to cut me some slack

This was followed by a phone call from Mr. P. After going to every store in a walking radius of his work he found one store with the colic formula in stock! I have to say I love this man. He spent his lunch hour, the time he is supposed to shoot the shit with the guys and go looking at new electronic toys, searching store upon store for baby formula.

Then it reminded me of the SMS he sent me this morning:

Sweetheart, I love you so much. Lets get married! I will be a great husband,
but I might need some fine-tuning work. How about it?

We already got married, a year and a half ago on the beach in St Lucia. I would have killed him if he actually proposed to me over SMS. But the SMS was just so cute, and so him. I have tons of little messages from him like this saved on my phone, little reminders of just how lucky I really am.

Honey, I love you too. I know you are worried about me, but don’t be, every time I see you or Pumpkin the sun shines a bit more. You are the best husband, lover and friend any woman could ask for.

Ahhhhhh! Just EAT already!

2005-10-06T11:00:00.000+02:00

She will not take the bottle, this is the second bottle today, and the second bottle she has screamed and cried through, shaking her head and arching her back. She is hungry, takes two frantic sips and then spits the bottle out and screams in pain. This is the same every day, some bottles do go down fine, and I breath a sigh of relief, perhaps it will be better now. It did get better, for about a month she had cramps only once every few days. I could deal with that. But once we got back from our holiday it came back with a vengeance. And I so can not deal with it any more.

Every day for the last 4 months I have worried and worried about Pumpkins eating. First it was WHY does she scream and cry at the boob, why will she take the nipple and then spit it out and scream for hunger but not take it again? Why were my nipples becoming inverted again after doing everything in the pregnancy to bring them out? Why is this such a struggle every feed every day? I spent every feed crying along with her, till finally I realized I dreaded when she would wake up again to eat. So I decided then to switch for the heath of our relationship.

She took the bottle wonderfully, she would down a bottle in minutes, and no crying! But she was always hungry. So I worried about feeding her more than the box said. Would I get a fat baby, you know, one of those "fat formula babies" everyone talked about? But eventually she slowed down and she was drinking the allotted amount, gaining weight at a good schedule. Then the cramps started. And every day I wonder will today be bad? Will she eat or will I have to sit for over an hour waiting for the gas to pass so she can drink?

We decided to take the advice of the doctor and try again the formula for colicky babies that we tried a few months ago. Back then it made her spit up more, turned her poops to an awful green mush and did not make the cramps any better. In fact she REFUSED to eat at all. She would simply smell the bottle and start to cry. But the doctor said perhaps now it will help. So I went out to buy the formula. But of course, in the way that my life works the freekin formula company decided to change their packaging and obviously planned VERY bad, because NO STORES had the formula. I went to 5 stores looking, and Mr. P looked at various stores near his work. But no-one had the formula.

So here we are, she still screams through every bottle, and I cry along with her. Frustrated and feeling like a total incompetent mother who can not even get her baby to eat, who can not stop her pain. I will go again to look for the formula today, and hope that they have it, and hope that it helps. But right now I think this will never get better.

Out of Sorts

2005-10-05T19:46:00.000+02:00

I have been a bit out of sorts lately. I feel sad and lonely and overwhelmed. I can't explain it really. I just do not feel like myself at all.

I knew I may feel lonely not working and all, but it hit me all at once Monday. I just sat down in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs and cried, and cried. I do not miss working at all, and I am so glad Mr. P and I have the financial means for me to stay home and take care of Pumpkin, but I do miss people. I miss meeting colleagues on the train and chatting on our way to work. I miss just shooting the shit in the coffee room. Hell I even miss the obnoxious receptionist who had to tell me every little detail of her divorce and non-existent sex life. I miss those people. People who I would never really see outside of the office, but who were a regular part of my life. Right now only Pumpkin and Mr. P are my regular company. I have some friends who I met through my pregnancy class, and we used to get together for lunch once a week, but they have mostly all gone back to work now. The one mom who isn't working spends most her time flying back to the UK so she is never around. As for Dutch moms, they really do not have any mums groups. They seem to have all the friends they want and not try to meet any more. I am not sure if it would be any different if I were in the states right now, I may be just as lonely, but it sure as hell could not be any worse, and at least there I would not be "the foreigner". I am trying to get out of the house though. Friday I will go to a mums group for foreign moms, so at least that is something to look forward to. And I think I will start going to the baby swim classes on Wednesday mornings, get out there and gather with the locals, who knows, they may be nice :-)

But loneliness is not everything. I am tired and overwhelmed. Pumpkin is having problems with eating. She has really since she was born, but now it is just getting to me. She cries and cries during being fed. She gets gas and cramps and just cries and refuses to eat. Every feed is a struggle and I hate being in public when she needs to eat. Everyone stares and has comments. I just want to disappear into the woodwork. The doctor and well baby clinic really do not know what it is. Since she is happy when not eating, it is not colic, and since she is gaining weight (thanks to Mr. P and I sitting through her fits to make sure she comes close to finishing a bottle) they are not worried. But now that she is over 4 months she is past the normal stage for cramps. We are going to try and see the doctor again this week, but I have no hope they will say anything different. I knew being a mom would be hard, I just did not know so much guilt would come with it. I feel guilty because she is in pain and I can't do a damn thing about it. I can't help but wonder if I had stuck with breastfeeding a bit longer she would have gotten over her problems there (another story for another day) and she would not have the gas cramps now. I feel like I have failed her. She is only 4 months and I have already failed her.

Someone tell me am I normal? In the beginning isn't it normal to be so moody and overwhelmed, but is it normal to still feel that way now? Pumpkin is a wonderful happy baby and I love her to death. Her smiles light up my day. But why do I just feel so down and like the whole world is crashing in on me?

Fall Cleaning

2005-09-28T21:27:00.000+02:00

A few times a year I go through my closet to try and free up some hangers. This is admittedly very hard for me. I will stand up now, and admit to the entire internet, what Mr. P already knows; I am an obsessive clothing hoard. I do not shop for clothes often, in fact usually only once per season, if even that do I buy myself a new outfit or two. However my closet is overflowing. I have the hardest time parting with anything, even if it is a pair of dress slacks that no longer fits, and haven’t for the past four years, even if it is a alumni t-shirt which has a hole ripped in the armpit. The slacks, they are just too cute, and who knows, I may be a size 3 again sometime, you know, when pigs fly. And the t-shirt, well it still serves its purpose as a nightshirt, just with a bit more ventilation. Shit, I still wear the sweats I bought for high school PE, over 14 years ago, even though the crotch has been stitched up a number of times (actually Mr. P does love these ‘easy access’ sweats).

I am even worse when it comes to shoes. I am the proud owner of over 40 pairs of shoes, of which I probably only regularly wear less than 10 (that is all seasons included). The adorable strapy sandals that only go with that one dress which also is sadly a size 3, why on earth would I get rid of those? Perhaps my size 8 'childbearing' hips will again see the inside of the size 3 dress again. Or perhaps I will buy another shimmery red and gold dress that matches those shoes perfectly. It doesn’t matter that even if miracles upon miracles I fit into that gorgeous dress again, there would never be the opportunity for me to wear the strappy sandals and slinky dress in dreary wet miserable Holland anyways! I just love the sandals too much to part with them, I love to pull them out of the closet every once in a while and drool over them. Hell I bought them at Nordstrom’s, at a time when I could not even afford to set foot into that store and breathe in that wonderful Nordstrom scent before the sales ladies came running to shoo my poor ass out of their store. I shipped them across the Atlantic Ocean on a container ship along with all my worldly possessions (and a lot of junk). Why on earth would I get rid of them?

But I have strayed from my point. It is that time again, the seasons are changing and what better time for me to stand in front of my closet and try and choose some clothing (and perhaps even shoes) that are either destined for the garbage bin, or the thrift store. The rule is if I have not worn it in over a year, it is time for it to go. That of course does not apply to the strappy sandals or the cute size 3 dress slacks (and the numerous other exceptions). Perhaps I can part with the alumni T-shirt. I will let you know how it goes. My motivation, if I have the space I can buy another outfit and more SHOES!

Humm, I Must Sign Him Up!

2005-09-26T17:08:00.000+02:00

NEW EVENING CLASSES FOR MEN

ALL ARE WELCOME
OPEN TO MEN ONLY

Note: due to the complexity and level of difficulty, each course will accept a maximum of eight participants

The course covers two days, and topics covered in this course include:

DAY ONE

HOW TO FILL ICE CUBE TRAYS
Step by step guide with slide presentation

TOILET ROLLS- DO THEY GROW ON THE HOLDERS?
Roundtable discussion

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN LAUNDRY BASKET & FLOOR
Practicing with hamper (Pictures and graphics)

DISHES & SILVERWARE; DO THEY LEVITATE/FLY TO KITCHEN SINK OR DISHWASHER BY THEMSELVES?
Debate among a panel of experts.

LOSS OF VIRILITY
Losing the remote control to your significant other - Help line and support groups

LEARNING HOW TO FIND THINGS
Starting with looking in the right place instead of turning the house upside down while shouting "It's not there!”, You’ve moved it!” or “We’ve run out!” – Open forum

DAY TWO

EMPTY MILK CARTONS; DO THEY BELONG IN THE FRIDGE OR THE BIN?
Group discussion and role-play

HEALTH WATCH; BRINGING HER FLOWERS IS NOT HARMFUL TO YOUR HEALTH
PowerPoint presentation

REAL MEN ASK FOR DIRECTIONS WHEN LOST
Real life testimonial from the one man who did

IS IT GENETICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO SIT QUIETLY AS SHE PARALLEL PARKS?
Driving simulation

LIVING WITH ADULTS; BASIC DIFFERENCES BETWEEN YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR PARTNER
Online class and role playing

HOW TO BE THE IDEAL SHOPPING COMPANION
Relaxation exercises, meditation and breathing techniques

REMEMBERING IMPORTANT DATES & CALLING WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE
Bring your calendar or PDA to class

A New World Citizen

2005-09-25T08:57:00.000+02:00

My cousin had been trying to get pregnant for a long time. After a year of no signs of a pregnancy she went to a specialist and was diagnosed with endometriosis which had grown to cover her ovaries. Eventually as their dreamed of pregnancy still eluded them, she had surgery to try and remove the growth which prevented her from ovulating. While this was all going on, I became pregnant with Pumpkin. My cousin was the one person I was afraid to tell about the pregnancy. I knew, even in our short quest for the fertilized egg, I was upset every time someone else succeeded, while Mr. P and I seemed to keep missing the mark. I could only imagine how hard it would be for her to hear about my pregnancy. I could have not been more wrong, my cousin, even as she struggled with her fertility problems, was ecstatic for us.

Yesterday morning my cousin gave birth to a healthy baby boy, I could not be more happy for them. I welcome a new little life to the world today, and am so glad his parents rode out all the disappointments to eventually hold their baby in their arms.

The Blue Line

2005-09-23T10:00:00.000+02:00

One year ago tomorrow, after 5 months of checking the calendar and keeping complex charts of cervical mucus and basal body temperature, of jumping Mr. P at every potentially fertile moment (which may be why he calls it the best 5 months of his life), of peeing on numerous pregnancy tests whenever my period decided to play with my head and make a late appearance, I finally got a blue line.

It was still dark out, I remember that, so it must have been around 6:00am when I stumbled into the bathroom and unwrapped yet another pregnancy test, the first one for this missing period. Hovering precariously over the toilet I proceeded to pee all over my hand, wrist, upper thigh and the tiny tiny “pee stick”. Even though I had peed on enough sticks the past 5 months, I still had not come close to mastering the art of aim at the crack of dawn. Setting the capped pregnancy test down on the sink I washed the pee off my arms and proceeded to wait. The booklet said 5 minutes, an awful long time when you were waiting for such news. Not able to wait even a minute I snuck a peak. At first appearance I saw only one line in the window where two meant positive. But wait; was that a faint blue line appearing there? I jumped up and grabbed the pregnancy test, holding it up to the light. It was a line, getting darker by the second. I could not believe it, it was POSITIVE!

Pee stick grasped tightly in my shaking hand I walked back to the bedroom. “Wake up papa”

Mr. P sat up in bed jolted awake… “No, your pregnant? Really?”

After staring at the two blue lines for an incredibly unhealthy amount of time we had to get on with the morning and go to work. I am not sure how we made it through the day without telling anyone, how the grins that must have been engraved on our faces did not give it away. Somehow we made it, and managed to keep our huge secret till the end of the first trimester. Only us two knowing, from that moment one year ago, that I was growing a little perfect human being inside me.

So much has happened since that moment, our little pumpkin is now almost 4 months old, but that morning, that joy of knowing, I will never forget.

I love this shot

2005-09-14T11:20:00.000+02:00

I know this kind of photo has been done a million times, but I just love this shot. This is pumpkin holding her great grandpa's hand.

We're Back

2005-09-14T11:15:00.000+02:00

Well it really was a quick trip. I can not believe we are back already! Now with 4 flights behind her, Pumpkin really is a world traveler. She was amazing on the flights, and only cried during landing a bit. Everyone was commenting on what a good baby we have. I must agree, she way exceeded our expectations, and it went so smoothly I decided I would make the next trip back without Mr. P.

I think Pumpkin handled the jet lag better than us as well. She had been sleeping through the night since 6 weeks, and we were a bit worried it would all end with this trip. But again we were very pleasantly surprised. The first few nights she woke once to eat, but soon was sleeping though again. Mr. P and I had a hard time though sharing a room with her. I can not believe how much noise she makes while sleeping, and let me tell you, she snores just like her papa! I was so happy last night to have her back in her own room, it meant I could sleep without waking up to gurgles and snores coming from next to the bed (though Mr. P seemed to be snoring enough for them both).

It was wonderful to see my family again, and especially to see them all with Pumpkin. She was really pampered to death. Everyone wanted to hold her and play with her. They sung to her and danced with her and even fed her (though no-one was willing to diaper her). In this way even I got a bit of a break. Though I fear now she will expect this kind of attention to continue. It was also wonderful to be back in the California lifestyle just for a bit. We went for long hikes in the redwoods and rolling hills and took Pumpkin on her first trip to the beach; I even have video of her on a surf board! I realized how much I missed having all that nature and beauty so close by. We must make more of an effort here to get outside (that is when it is not raining!).

As for me, I went on a bit of a shopping spree, filling our suitcases to the brim with baby clothes. But it is all just so cute and so cheap in the US! Though looking at her overflowing closet now I have to admit perhaps I did go a bit overboard…

Count Down to Departure

2005-08-31T10:16:00.000+02:00

Two days left until we fly to San Francisco. Normally, while I look forward to seeing my family and friends, I dislike the whole traveling thing. Arriving at an airport 3 hours in advance to stand in line to check-in, then stand in line for passport control and security screening, then stand in line again for another passport check and security screening to enter the boarding area, and finally stand in line to board the plane. Then, yippee, we are cooped up in economy on an airplane for 10 hours only to, you guessed it, stand in line again at border control and customs in the USA. And thanks to Mr. P being Dutch (which you can say leads to all this traveling in the first place) we must stand in the LONG ASS foreigners line even though I have an American passport. But wait, we are not done. After answering 50 questions at border control, and having Mr. P fingerprinted and photographed, we proceed on to grab our luggage (which often has been hauled off the conveyer belt and set on the side since we have been in the damn line so freekin long) to only stand in line again to get our rental car. Finally we are off, driving away from the airport, towards SF and the Golden Gate Bridge, where, if we are really lucky we hit commute traffic heading north towards Marin and Sonoma Counties! Usually we leave our house at 8:00am Amsterdam time, to arrive at my mother’s house (40 miles north of SF) at 6:00pm California time. This does not sound bad, except when you consider that is 3:00am Amsterdam time. All in all a trip of approximately 19 hours.

However now, since Pumpkin will be joining us on this adventure, I am DREADING the traveling bit. How am I going to survive 19 hours of traveling with a 3 month old? And to top it off we arrive the Friday or Labor Day weekend, when everyone heads north out of SF just about the same time we also will be driving north over the Golden Gate!

But it is all worth it. I can not wait to see my 87 year old grandmother holding her first great grandchild. I can’t wait to see Pumpkin with her grandparents, to introduce her to her aunts and uncle. I never imagined having a family so far away from my own. To have given birth to my daughter so far away from my mother, to not have her there to see her first granddaughter in her first hours of life. It is very hard to have gone these three months without them here, without them being able to see Pumpkin grow. I know I will survive the traveling since I am so looking forward to our arrival, to seeing my family.

The problem really is if I will survive leaving them yet again.

Shit, now I am crying…

Was This Weekend?

2005-08-29T20:18:00.000+02:00

The fact that I no longer work outside of the home has changed the significance of weekends for me. Prior to the birth of Pumpkin it was two days of R&R where Mr. P and I either lazied around the house or went out shopping during the day and visited friends and family in the evening. Now I look forward to weekends because Mr. P will be home, but my job does not stop for the weekend. Pumpkin still wakes at 7:00am, she still needs to be fed 5 times a day, her diapers still need to be changed and she needs to be given attention and stimulation. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. P definitely pulls his load on the weekends, and we each get one morning to sleep in. But on busy weekends like this one, the lack of a break becomes obvious to me.

Saturday started slow enough, I took the morning shift so I was up at 7:00am with Pumpkin. Later that morning we took a walk to the street market and around town, stopping of course at all the baby shops. That evening we attended an engagement party. This was the first time we went out in the evening to a party and put Pumpkin in bed at someone else’s home. Needless to say the evenings of leaving the house for a party with just a gift are over. We had disposable diapers enough for major diaper failure every hour, bottles enough to last till the next morning, pajamas, a sleep sack, travel crib, Baby Bjorn and baby monitor. It was more junk than we would take for a weekend away when we were ‘pre-baby’. However all our preparation paid off. Pumpkin slept wonderful and we were some of the last people to leave the party. I spoke to adults other than Mr. P about things other than Pumpkin. I almost forgot I was mommy for a few hours.

Sunday Mr. P took the morning shift and I got to sleep in till a blessed 10:00am. Ah the joys! However I had to jump out of bed to start packing up the diaper bag again with more diapers and bottles than at all necessary. That afternoon we attended our very first “family day” hosted by Mr. P’s work. While it was a very enjoyable afternoon, and I had many moms to hit up for advice, the mere fact that we were there reinforced that our lives have definitely changed. We are a family, and such events, involving petting zoos, playgrounds and party games are now part of our weekends. Discussions about high chairs, diaper contents and introducing solids have replaced discussions about late night drinking binges and the resulting hangovers.

Unfortunately all the running around during the weekend was too much. Insomnia, which I often suffer from when stressed or too wound up, bore its ugly head last night. In the past, if I had a night like that consisting of only a few hours of decent sleep, I would call in sick to work. Now, my work is there no matter what. If only Pumpkin was as easy as my former boss:

“Sorry honey, you need to take care of yourself today. Change your own diapers; make up your own bottles; entertain yourself for the day, mommy is tired and really needs to sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow. Oh and if you have a chance can you throw the laundry in the washer, bleach the kitchen counters and vacuum the house?”

More Diaper Talk

2005-08-23T12:14:00.000+02:00

Before Pumpkin was born Mr. P and I decided to be environmentally conscious and use cloth diapers. I am not a “tree hugger”, though being the product of hippies I do come closer to that label than Mr. P. We recycle just like any good earth citizen should. We support measures to preserve open land and we donate monthly to WWF. Beyond that we do not go out of our way to be “environmental”. However the mere fact that most babies go through approximately 5,000 disposable diapers before they are potty trained, and that said diapers take ages to biodegrade, disturbed me. I could not consciously leave my daughter a world with that much more waste than necessary. So cloth it would be.

When we told family and friends of this decision they looked at us as if we had tentacles protruding from our heads. They told us to our faces that we were nuts; that no-one uses cloth diapers anymore; that we would not make it a week before changing to disposable. Yet unlike some of our other pre-birth declarations which fell through, such as not giving Pumpkin a pacifier (yeah, well, she really needed it – or I at least needed the peace), we still are a cloth diapering household.

What many people do not realize is that cloth diapers have come a long way since the days of special folds and pins. There are many systems out there that make cloth diapering almost as easy as disposable. We chose the Bambino Mio system, which consists of a rectangle cloth diaper simply folded in three, a plastic lined, Velcro closable diaper cover and a biodegradable nappy liner which catches all the poops and can be flushed down the toilet. Yes I do have to do loads of wash all the time, but when you consider that I wash sheets, towels and other whites with them it is not that many more loads. We do use disposable though outside of the home though, when traveling or visiting people, since it is not too nice to lug loads of wet diapers around.

So to all those who told us we were nuts, and that we would never continue it, I say hahaha. Now as punishment for your doubt and lack of faith you need to come change a particularly disgusting poopie diaper which Pumpkin made special for you.

I do speak about poop an awful lot don’t I… poop, poop, poop…

Yummy Curry

2005-08-22T11:44:00.000+02:00

Should I be concerned that when changing Pumpkin's poopy diaper I think:

Ummmm, I want Indian for dinner tonight.

The diaper contents did look very similar to a nice Chicken Korma.

Ask Me Anything

2005-08-20T08:51:00.000+02:00

Trey at Daddy, Papa & Me posted an "ask me anything post" and I asked him three questions. So as the rules go, I now need to post it here.

Here is how it works:

Ask me 3 questions.
Any 3, no matter how personal, private or random.
I have to answer them honestly. I have to answer them all.
In turn, you post this message in your own blog or journal and you have to answer the questions that are asked of you.

So ask away. In a few days I will compile the questions and post all my answers.

Dancing Queen

2005-08-17T13:36:00.000+02:00

Every day I strap Pumpkin into the Baby Bjorn and turn up the CD player to dance. We sway and move across the room, singing along to the music. Her eyes look wide about and up at me, giggling, as I dip her and bounce her about. Her favorite CD right now is Wildflowers from Tom Petty, but we also regularly dance to U2, Queen, Talking Heads, and a even few country CDs (come on - they are just so fun to dance to!).

This scene is strangely reminiscent of when I was a little, and my mother would dance with me to the likes of The Doors, Santana, Janice Joplin, Grateful Dead and Credence. These artists are now a staple of my CD collection and I can’t help but think that listening and dancing to those classics in my youth lead to my appreciation of them and other great musicians now.

So will my little Pumpkin be listing to U2, Queen and Tom Petty when she is 28? Will she dance with her baby like I dance with her? I can only hope my mother’s love of great music will be passed on through me to her and on to the next generations to come.

So internet, please chime in here. Do you dance with your children? What music do you dance to? Do you remember music from your youth, and do you still listen to it now?

Hot Mama

2005-08-15T14:03:00.000+02:00

I am flattered, really I am. A bit baffled and shocked but flattered none the less.

To the man whom whistled at me today as I walked down the street.

Me, pushing the big red pram with the baby crying, who had not a smudge of makeup on my new mommy face. You know the woman with spit-up stains on her shoulder who just 12 weeks ago looked like she had swallowed a beach ball (You don't believe me, look at this photo).Me, who two and a half months ago squeezed a 6lb baby out from between my legs and who though I do fit into most my pre-pregnancy clothes has a belly still far from toned. Yes, that's me.

To you, I say thank you. You made my month!

Only a Mother Could Love That Diaper

2005-08-15T10:39:00.000+02:00

Pumpkin, I hope when you reach puberty and decide that your mama is the most embarrassing, annoying, un-hip person you have ever met, that you read this and realize just how much I love you.

This morning, when I got you up from your nap only to discover that you had taken the most god awful nasty algae green pasty crap, I did not recoil in horror (at least not for long). No, I continued to talk sweetly to you as I peeled your shit covered pajamas off your body, and opened the diaper from hell. Still smiling I then started to wipe the pasty shit off your back, your stomach and of course your entire diaper area. Now this was no normal shit, this one covered your body (and now my hands) with the maximum sticky power. Perhaps this is what my fellow blogger Papa Large would coin a T.A.E.. Diaper wipe after diaper wipe left your ass, only to reveal that the green paste was still there! You thought this was funny, actually hilarious. You smiled and giggled as mama tried to detach the nasty diaper sheet from the cloth diaper and then the cloth diaper from the completely covered plastic cover. I actually do not think there was a square centimeter of diaper or diaper cover left untouched.

Finally I got you cleaned up (though I had briefly considered submerging you completely in the sink) and proceeded to dispense of the algae green diaper and diaper cover into the soon shit covered diaper pail. And what was mama thinking this whole time as she patiently disposed of your not so solid waste?

If only I had the camera here. Then I could truly share this diaper with the internet.

But lucky for my readers, the camera sat downstairs and I was too covered in shit to go and get it.

How Pathetic am I?

2005-08-15T09:24:00.000+02:00

Last week I bought a new diaper bag. Nothing extraordinary, just a courier style bag that can be hung easily from the pram. What is sad is how excited I was about this bag. It has no amazing bells and whistles, it is certainly not the top of style, yet I was so excited about this bag that I spoke about it for days! After the purchase I immediately headed to the nearest cafe where I ordered a café a lait and proceeded to transfer everything from the old diaper bag to the new. I must have looked so pathetic to the other customers, this mom, sleeping baby in pram, obviously ecstatic over this newest of purchases. Thank goodness none of my old colleagues could see me now. I could just see their knowing looks, the rolling of the eyes. “Oh what has she done?”

I think the reason I am so excited about this silly bag is because it is the first thing I have bought for myself (if a diaper bag can be considered something for me) since Pumpkin was born. I did not count the two transitional pants I purchased as something for me, since I would have no need for them once I could fit my old clothes. I recon I need to buy one less onsie for Pumpkin and instead buy me something every once in a while. Perhaps then I will avoid being the crazy mom sitting in a café drooling over her diaper bag.

Excerpts

2005-08-14T14:45:00.000+02:00

This is when you know you have been together a while:

You know where I am now?

No, where?

At that store.

Huh?

That store on the way back from Gilroy.

Hum?

Didn’t we stop at a store on the way back from Gilroy?

No, I don’t recall…

The one with all the stuff…

Oh, you mean with all the fruits and veg?

Yeah!

That was Yosemite.

Oh, yeah! With James.

Wow. That I knew what you were talking about.

Strange…. What I am thinking about now?

T&A

Yup!
We visited that store over 4 years ago…

The Photo Shoot

2005-08-14T11:53:00.000+02:00

Yesterday we took the family photo for the in-laws 35th wedding anniversary. I think this is a wonderful idea, and it is about time that the photo from the 1980’s hanging on their wall gets replaced. Mr. P actually has a perm in the photo! A PERM I tell you! And you can only imagine the awful 80’s clothing he is wearing. They are just too awful to put into words!!! So this time he showed up for the photo with freshly cut (non-permed) hair and a tie. However his brother and brother in law were clad in their normal T-shirts and jeans. Of course this lead to a bit of ribbing from them, and will mean that his tie will be the topic of conversation 15 years from now just as the perm has been to this point.

As with any family moment, this one was not without drama. The idea was to have all three children, their significant others, and the grandkids (Pumpkin and Lil Man) in the photo. This was planned by Mr. P’s sister over a month ago, and an appropriate date was chosen so all parties could be there for the photo. So yesterday, mid nap, we woke Pumpkin up and loaded her into her car seat. We then drove 1 hour to meet up with everyone at Mr. P’s brother’s apartment. We were the first ones there and shortly after we walked in and sat down, Mr. P inquired after his brother’s girlfriend who was strangely not there.

Bro P replied: “She does not want to go”, obviously more than a little annoyed.

I took this as she was just in their bedroom pouting, and gave Mr. P a look of question. So we changed the subject. Soon Sis P arrived with her boyfriend and Lil Man. She too enquired about the missing party.

Again Bro P replied: “She does not want to go”

Then I understood. It was not only that she did not want to go, but she was NOT going. Sis P, normally the type of woman who will tell you exactly what she thinks, actually restrained herself and surprisingly did not react to this bit of information. Perhaps she did not find it worth the energy. The tension in the room was obvious, the ensuing silence almost unbearable. Thankfully we had to head to the portrait studio soon thereafter.

So the photos were made, and I am sure they will turn out great, but the fact that someone is missing from the shots will be glaringly obvious when we present the photos to the in-laws next weekend. How selfish can someone be? She has been a “member” of this family for over 4 years now, yet she rarely will come to birthday parties or other family events, and to not be part of this photo is rude and offensive. How must Bro P feel about the fact that the woman he loves cares so little about his family? It is like a slap in the face. This photo will hang in the in-laws living room for years, Mr. P, me and Pumpkin; Sis P, her boyfriend and Lil Man; and then Bro P, all alone. I can only hope that soon she will be missing from Bro P’s life as well as the photo, he sure deserves better.

Zzzzzzzz.....

2005-08-12T12:37:00.000+02:00

I am now onto my 3rd cup of coffee today. Needless to say, this is not my normal coffee consumption. No, this is an “I’m so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open” coffee dosing.

Mr. P and I have been extremely lucky that Pumpkin has been sleeping through the night since she was 6 weeks old. This means that for the last 5 weeks we have been able to sleep a blessed 8 hours a night without interruption! Granted we are in bed at the early hour of 11:00pm (if not earlier) and up again at 7:00am even on weekends, but that is such a vast improvement to the every few hours we were woken at in the first 6 weeks. However it seems my body had been spoiled by this near return to normal sleep.

Last night Pumpkin woke at 4:30am. I am not sure why, perhaps it was the heavy rain storm, or loneliness, or just the need to mix things up again. Whatever the reason be, it meant that even though she did fall back to sleep (only to rise again at 6:00am) Mr. P and I were unable to fall back to sleep. That means, in place of the normal 8 hours sleep, I have had 5 ½. In the first weeks after Pumpkin was born I would have LOVED to get a strait 5 ½ hours of sleep. In fact the first time Pumpkin slept more than 4 hours I could have danced a jig had I had the energy I was so happy. Yet like I said, my body has now been spoiled by her sleeping through the night. So here I am, 3rd cup of coffee in hand trying to be grateful that I did get that much sleep, I mean we could still be doing night feedings. I am sure that as future payback for me complaining now, child #2 will not sleep a night through till well after his or her 2nd birthday.