I hate you. In fact, I have almost always hated you. Even when you tried to recreate the whole cool fabric on a stroller version of your crappy strollers, I didn't fall for it. Your junk falls apart, makes kids bleed, and all around looks like crap most of the time. Yes, I have still accepted this fact and wasted more money on your junk. Why I have is BEYOND me. Clearly your goods are designed to not last so we can keep spending more and more money, instead of making decent stuff that might actually last through kid numero dos at the very least.
This week's waste of money was the last straw. I will no longer spend money on your products.
You see, I am knee-deep in empty boxes, filling them little by little as I prepare to move my family and our belongings to another home in another state. My kids have been sick with colds, coughing at night, needing a humidifier and medicine all night between the moonlight packing extravaganza. You could say it's a time of transition, sleep is expected to be minimal and tension high. I am a little busy these days. So when my old baby monitor busted, I knew I could run to a local store that loves to cram every product of yours on every shelf. I had no time to research and hoped to replace what I had before. But it wasn't there. Turns out, you had the only version under the price of $180 so you won the prize of joining my shopping cart. I loved you for the entire time it took me to drive home, put the baby to sleep, push a plug into the wall, and then turn a knob.
Well, Tune In Tokyo. Not only could I hear the humidifier like it had a full blast megaphone attached to it, but I heard the baby breathing in, then out, then in again, and out. It was louder than it would be if I were to hold him in my arms and squeeze the air out of him quickly into a microphone connected to 15,134,968,056,897 amps. And when he would whimper, I heard that too. In waaaaaaay too loud of volume despite the little nobby thing being turned all the way down. And when the baby rolls over in his crib, it sounds like he is hanging sheets of wallpaper on the wall. I might as well have the kid sleeping on my face all night with his mouth pressed into my ear.
You see, the whole idea of a monitor (to me) is to transition the baby out of your room so you can finally sleep. So these little restless movements don't wake you up all night long. I only want to hear the cries that indicate a leg is jammed between the slats or a bear has jumped through the window and is about to chew off his head. Any other noise, I don't really want amplified.
I had about 4 precious hours of sleep alloted into my crazy schedule last night. Instead of sleeping, I lay awake at 2am listening to a grip of blue paisly print being smoothed out behind the crib by chubby baby hands. All the while I was giving you my middle finger, Graco.
I have held this book in my hands a few times at the bookstore, leafed through it and put it back down smiling each time. Not sure what my deal is, but I have a hard time paying for words when they are all over the place for free on my computer. That said, if you are like me and hold out on book buying because you want to spend your cash on 'really great sushi' instead, you will find this site, stuff white people like, hilarious (freshly forwarded to me from Mike). I imagine the entire book is, too. Dare I indulge in both?
I love the recent entry about bangs. According to this guide: When you are introduced to a group of white people, it’s a good idea to befriend the girl with the bangs. She’s probably the most popular.
What!? I tried the bangs, I looked like a freaking P.E. teacher. For some reason it works on everyone else, just not me. I think it's my facial structure. I will just have to accept that it makes me a nerd. Waaaaaaay better than looking like a man in a wig. Although I like the follow up note: these same things are hated by cooler white people. I guess I just have to pretend I hate things I don't participate in to feel good about no bangs.
p.s. don't to forget to read his post on Whole Foods. I am ready to be best friends now. Officially.
We started with time in the SFMOMA, it was enjoyable to peruse the photographs of Lee Miller (self-portrait above). I found it interesting to read details about her history and see how her interest/ life path changed the subjects she shot over the years from people to landscape to death.
I found inspiration in some painters, some items I would love to try to replicate our own version of some of the things we saw for the boys' rooms someday. I think it would be nice to involve them in some drafts and final versions of paint on canvas when they are old enough.
I liked Land's End by Jasper Johns oil on canvas (above), I like the words of colors blended into the work and the lack of perfect order in the way it's put together.
I liked this one, above, too. Frank Stella's Zambezi. It is enamel on canvas.
Portrait de Sarah Stein (Portrait of Sarah Stein) by Henri Mattise oil on canvas (above) -this was the only one I liked by him. I love the way her hair is a crazy circle and how he chose for her collar to turn into the background of her face. Looking close at the eyes it seemed to me he spent a lot of time reworking them, using many layers of many colors. I noticed a perfectly intact thumb print in a sharp blue color on the left near the left bottom half of the painting, it made me wish I had seen it painted back in 1916 so I could ask why what left in its place.
Here is a collection of some of those moments:
1) Walking towards that office on a campus while bikes holding older, seemingly smarter, people fly past me in every direction. In one short hour a stranger assists me in choosing those first courses I would officially commit to for what would turn into several years of working towards a long term goal of higher education.
2) Standing above the valley that night, heart beating quickly, while his sweaty hands hold mine. The diamond in his pocket, he begins to bend on one knee. I reply with a magnificent of course.
3) Boarding that plane with our one-way tickets in hand. Taking the leap that we hope will guide us into a success that will make it worth the fear; plus pains of family being so far.
4) Driving home in the rain under the soggy trees on the Bronx River Parkway with our first child nestled and tucked into his infant carseat. Raw vulnerability never meant anything before this 20 minute chunk of time.
5) Peeking over the sterile baby bed as our second newborn is getting his lungs suctioned, my heart begging for the opportunity to take him home safe, healthy, breathing well.
6) Sticking my toes in the grass of what will be the front yard of our very first home (upon the successful conclusion of closing). Watching One checking out what will be his very first back yard. Cinderblock and dirt have never made me smile so brightly. They are the most glorious I have ever seen, because they are on the verge of becoming ours. Seeing The Other crawl on the softest carpet and most delectable tan color my eyes could possibly behold, because it is on the verge of becoming ours.
We are so at that moment in the process where it's like having your first baby. While still in the hospital the nurses are taking care of most of it, so you really don't feel like a parent. People ask you on the phone how it's going, being a parent, but you aren't really doing it yet. You are about to, once you get home, but until then you are waiting to officially push up your sleeves and feel what it's like to be engorged, smiled at, loved, pooped on, nuzzled, etc.
It just feels like a theory right now, but one that's shortly going to become a reality and begin another big section in the Life Changes book.
Then he dropped into the bowl quickly, never to make eye contact again.
I felt pretty much not so awesome. But I didn't leave like I wanted to. I fixed my helmet, blushed harshly, then finally tried my wimpy little tricks off to the side.
Only me. It would only happen to me. And how many other times have I done that without knowing?
I remember wondering why she wanted to be my friend, what were the things she liked about me? Not that I thought I was an unlikeable kid- I was just curious what parts of me she thought were interesting enough to tell her parents about me, call me, and have me come over. It made me feel so good to be invited to her house and I hoped she knew that I really liked her. I can't remember exactly what the things were I liked about her, I just knew I enjoyed being around her and hanging out on the playground was never boring when she was around. I wish I had known specifically what was cool about her to me and that I had told her. I was really sad when they moved away. I wonder how she is doing now and where she is.
It's so funny how some people you meet in life you bond with instantly and you don't even know why or how. Some personalities just click right away. I wish I could collect all those people I have met and clicked with and keep them all close by. All the Niya's could get to know one another and we could crack the code. Have a party at least once a month and see what we all have in common, if the whole lot of them get along as well as I think they would. We would take a survey and find out similarities, personality traits, goals, etc. and find the common threads. Or maybe there would be none at all and it would be super awkward.
It's fun to think about why I really like someone. This month I am going to revive my Thoughtful Package idea and spend some time writing emails or letters telling my friends what I like about them.
And someday when I am 50 years old I am going to look up all those favorite childhood friends and have a big party with a lot of red balloons in the deepest of green grass and have rootbeer floats. With twisty straws. And staw hats. Everyone gets to sit in white wicker rocking chairs (with plush padding). And I will include my adulthood favorite friends, too, and gather everyone up I enjoy the most in one big, open space. Rachael will you be my DJ?
I am head over heels with my Nikon D70. I makes me feel like I have wings and the possibilities are endless when using this beauty. I can print almost any shot I want almost any size I want. I can make a poster if I want to, with the right paper and printing aparatus. I love the choices, experimenting, and taking time to plan and study a subject with this camera. It was a gift to me from Mike when I was struggling with my identity as a new mother, so it holds incredible sentimental value to me. Leaving the house for a quick park trip, I am almost scared to bring it because it is so heavy and valuable to me. You have to use two hands and when two kids are in tow, it's almost impossible to bother taking it with me unless another pair of hands is with me to help with a child. This camera has been along with me in my journey of motherhood and has been an extended eye capturing moments my memory would otherwise forget. It is also more breakable. I have held my breath twice at the camera shop while pins got straightened out. Luckily $12 to fix it was the solution and not a post office visit, shipping it to Nikon for a bill that could end up being hundreds of dollars. P.S. email photos to be printed where possible (Wolf/ Ritz, Costco). Putting the camera card into public readers can easily damage the card (Walgreens, Target for example), thus damaging the pins in the camera when you put the reader back in. Use a USB chord and never remove the camera card at all. A downer with this camera is sometimes you lose a shot because it wasn't programmed the way it needed to be to get exactly what the moment reflected. Kids move too quick sometimes to stop, program where you want the focus to be, and get that desired shot. Getting the camera ready takes a little prep time. But the times you do, it is always worth it.
They are both great cameras I feel lucky to have.
I love that my mom knew it was just part of who I was. She didn't get mad about it, she knew I was just absent-minded sometimes. She never said hurtful things to me when these sorts of 'episodes' would occur. She would also let me be me without comparing me to my sister. She never said 'WELL Lisa never lost a key' or 'your sister takes SUCH good care of her things, why can't YOU?' I love that I have had that example in my life to carry on into my own family. I love that she knew us for who we were and never expected me to be good at someone else's strengths. I was not considered the shadow or expected to fill my sister's shoes as she grew into new ones, so to speak.
I feel we were always celebrated as individuals with very different talents, interests, and personalities. For this I am grateful.
I have intentionally not checked Zane's baby book to remember specific milestones. I want to remember Evan will achieve them on his own time, not compare who was faster or taller or quicker in comparison. Some of them might be sooner, some might be later. While it is fun to see their differences (foods they like) and similarities (bottom teeth), I am reminding myself to enjoy them individually. While Zane has an important responsibility as a big brother, I still want Evan to know he is not Zane's shadow. He is not going to be expected to be good at swimming in the event Zane is a superstar at that sport (for example). He is to just be who he is and that will be wonderful (green-beans-eating) Evan.
It is hard work to remember that as a mother sometimes. I was so confused when Evan was born and his head was shaped differently than baby Zane's. My mind was expecting the exact same baby to come out all over again. I don't know why, it's so odd that I had to train my brain to reboot and start fresh.
2) These really basic shoes I saw a staffer girl at the pool wearing make me happy.