Nose Treasures

It's a gray and lazy Saturday morning.  Brixton slept in this morning until almost 9 (!!!).  We cuddled a bit in bed with him, clad only in a diaper and his vast fat rolls.  And that skin!  Is there anything softer than baby skin?

We padded upstairs for coffee.  This mama made her two sweets some scrambled eggs and pancakes (from a mix, I'm not all that ambitious in the morning).  Apparently, Brixton has become a pancake fan, as the squeals of glee indicated.

Later, after the breakfast dishes were assembled into mini leaning towers of Pisas in the sink, abandoned and ignored, we congregated on the couch, sipping the last of our hot coffee now turned lukewarm.  

While we chatted and planned and dreamed, Brixton played on the floor.  His little nose was kind of runny this morning, we plied him with tissues and appropriate tongue clucks that parents of sick children do.  

Brixton sneezed.  I looked over at him.  Beyond the expressed boogs that ran down his upper lip, there was something else.  Something dark.  Something that definitely didn't look like it belonged shooting out of a kid's nose. 

 A couple of weeks ago Brixton was enjoying some blueberries during lunchtime.  He loves him some blueberries.

While I watched, he rubbed his nose, palm flat against it.  While I watched, a piece of blueberry disappeared like magic.  Where did it go?  Did I just see that?  It seemed like the blueberry went up his nose.  

I grabbed him for a peek up there.  I didn't see anything, so I just decided I was being crazy again and I didn't see what I saw. 

Until this morning, when I ran over to the Dark Thing before it could get in his mouth and be lost forever.  I grabbed it out of the slime.  I knew immediately my earlier suspicions had been correct.  He had snorted a piece of blueberry into his nose and that blueberry had been residing there in his sinus cavity for the past couple of weeks.  

"It's a blueberry."  I said.

"A blueberry."  Brendan repeated, mystified. "Are you sure?"

I squeezed it.  Some blueberry goo came out.  Then, a seed.  

"Yep.  A blueberry." 

  

Cheese!

I'm not sure he can smile anymore than this.  This is the end of the line for smiles.  And can I get an amen for the double chin?  Or is that a triple?  Hard to say.  

Although a baby getting so big can be a sad thing, it can also be a fun thing since you have to buy some new clothes!  I found this robot onesie at Old Navy and you can catch a peek of Brixton's leg warmers (or "Knee Protectors" since that sounds a bit more macho) that I got on Etsy.  

Boys certainly don't have as much selection in the clothes department as girls do, but there are lots of cute things to be found.  I recently found a few goodies at Babies R Us and Baby Gap and I couldn't pass them up.  Girl clothes overwhelm me because there is just way too much to chose from.  Target has a TON of really cute girl clothes right now, but not many boy clothes which is good for me (and good for my arriving in August niece!!).  

Have you seen any really cute baby clothes lately?  

Stuff Lately 3

  
It's been almost a month since we've moved into the city.  A month of boxes, countless cups of coffee (or cafe au lait..my newest obsession), playgroups, names of new friend, GPS programming, and getting lost despite said GPS programming.

City life is fun.  We are constantly busy.  Mondays we have either My Gym or a German playgroup.  Tuesdays we go to a playgroup.  Wednesdays we go to a playgroup.  Thursdays we go to Bible Study and if Brix can handle it--a playgroup.  Fridays we go to My Gym.  

I can't tell you how many dozens of moms and babies we've met.  I've met quite  a few German speakers, so it's been great for that endeavor.  Today's playgroup was a little quiet, all of us moms seemed to stare into space a bit while our kids milled about, no one had the energy for the usual chit-chat.   I am outgoing, but I start off a bit quiet and clammed up.  I love finding people with things in common.  I'm always curious where they are from, what they do, if they speak other languages--something to connect us.  I find I'm drawn to people from other countries, I find their stories so interesting.  


Something else I'm finding?  I'm old.  All these moms are young.  They all seem to be in their late 20s, still pretty young flowers in bloom.  This old flower is starting to wilt.  I keep forgetting I'm older.  But I know they know.  

 

Brixton is moving and groovin'.  As the above picture indicates, our house is not baby-proofed beyond the electrical outlets.  I don't think we'll do much baby-proofing.  We do need a gate for the stairs, which Brix reached yesterday in about 20 seconds.  But all the other stuff?  Not going to happen.  

 

I had to put a nice "please turn down your bass" note on our neighbor's door.  If I was a braver person, I would have just knocked, but I'm not, so a well written and light-hearted note was penned instead.  My reward?  Oh, they turned the bass down, but they then turned the volume waaaay up.  So what do I do from here?  A flaming dog turd?  A plate of cookies?  I hate neighbors. 

A Dog's Tale

I didn't say anything about it and most of our friends don't even know, but we found a new home for our dear Boxer, Lola.  

It's actually been two months since the cold morning when I hugged her good-bye for the last time in our garage, then watched her bound unknowingly and happily into the car.  Our old dogwalker, J, took her.  J got divorced in the last year or two, and in that process lost her own dog to her ex.  On the day I texted J about taking Lola, she had been talking to a friend about how Lola was the perfect dog for her--this before she even received my text.

Lola, while loved, was becoming frankly annoying.  I hardly ever took her on walks.  She was always up in my grill. If I made a fun sound for Brixton, she'd have to come over and step on everyone.  I felt bad because I knew she wasn't living the life she could have been.  I was also anxious because I knew that city living was going to include 4 walks a day--even on those days when Brendan was working out of town and I was here alone.  

J saved us.  And I think Lola saved her too.  I've gotten lots of emails from her updating us on Lola's status.  Pictures of Lola completely asleep on a bed under covers.  Playing with another dog.  Drinking from a golden bowl.  

I've been missing Lola lately.  I just want to smell her, which I know is weird, but she had a certain smell--like Fritos--and I just wanted to give her a hug and a kiss and take in a big lungful of her Frito-ness.  I called J, as I was near their home.  Okay, I was in the parking lot of her apartment complex, but she didn't know that (and FYI, I had a doctor's appointment nearby..I'm not a dog stalker).  I asked her if I could see Lola and give her a hug.

She said no in a kind way, with lots of reasons that made perfect sense and that my brain could process.

But my heart couldn't.  I started crying on the phone when I asked J to give Lola an extra hug for me that day.  It was then I knew that the cold morning in the garage was the last time I was going to ever hug my bean, the dog we searched for for so long, the one I cried over when I thought about her dying, the one who brought us so much joy and laughter.  

I know some people might think, "Hey, you're a jerk because you got this dog and didn't give her a forever home!"  In some ways you are right, but I will say I rescued a dog that was in the shelter for two weeks, I loved and provided for her for almost five years, and I found a place for her to live where she would regain her purpose. Sometimes love means knowing when it's time to let go. It was time.  For her, for us, for J. 


Run free, little dog, run free.  

Forward March

Brendan has been gone for 6 days.  6 long days spent wrangling a somewhat fussy babe and trying in vain to organize and decorate our home.  And run errands.  And shower.  And eat.  He comes home tonight, so I'm a whirling dervish, wanting the house to look different (i.e., better) than when he left!  I got a call from him earlier that he's sick, with a "churning stomach, runny nose and a raspy throat."  Poor guy.  All that and he still has a 5 hour drive to get to us.

The house is coming along.  I'd say I still need another month to have things "just so."  The piles of stuff are smaller and smaller, the wall decorations finding new homes, the items no longer wanted are bound for the donation box.  Little by little it's becoming home. 

My parents are coming out for 9 glorious days in May.  Like two angels floating out of the sky, their arrival will be the start of what will be 9 days of fun, sun, 4 extra hands, 2 extra laps and new memories to be made.  I can't wait!

Chicago is fun.  City life is fun.  The people here, in the city, are so friendly.  People say hi on the streets.  People smile.  Drivers are polite (for city driving).  I haven't been flipped off (yet).  There are so many moms and babies.  So many cool things to do with little ones.  People with dogs.  Parks.

And it's been so warm. Freakishly warm.  85 degrees.  It's March, yet all the trees have little pea-green leaves shooting out, the flowers have pushed up the covers of their winter slumber.  Limbs, frighteningly pale, are peeking out from shorts and skirts, dresses and tank tops.   Yet, somehow, I don't trust it.  I still am waiting for that freak storm that blows in and sends us all back into our closets, pulling out our heavy jackets.  Wrapping those scarves another layer thicker around our necks. 

Brixton's talking.  Not just dada, mama stuff.  He says "banana" with the understanding of what a banana is.  He says "dog", too, with the same understanding.  I made him say banana about thirty times today.  Partly because it was so cute, but mostly because I couldn't believe it. 

I'm constantly toying with the idea of chopping my hair off.  Short hair is so cute and easy.  It's just that growing hair out is such a long journey, one I've personally been on for the past 3.5 years since The Last Big Chop, and this is the longest my hair has ever been.  So I'd be crazy to quit now.  Plus, it doesn't get any easier than a pony tail right??

Moving and Grooving

I'm a very black and white person.  I don't entertain much of a 'gray area.' Things either are or they aren't.  So the fact that Brixton is using his body to move around the room and start to pull up on bar stools, chairs and ottomans hasn't officially been called crawling yet, because it doesn't resemble crawling, but more like an injured monkey limping across the jungle floor.  So I haven't called it crawling.  

But, he is.

This morning I heard his little bird chirps from his crib and went in to intercept him before they became high pitched dolphin cries. And there he was.  Sitting up.  

He's been sitting up for a while now, but I've never caught him sitting up on his own accord in his crib. He suddenly looked so big and capable there, grinning all proud.  I grinned too, even prouder.

He's turning 1 in less than 2 months, so I'm thinking about his birthday party.  At first I was like, balloons and some cake.  Now I'm like "Little Man Party!" and I'm totally going for it.  Unfortunately, Little Man parties seem to incorporate the forever annoying mustache thing, which makes me sick with its trendiness, but the overall theme is too cute to throw out on just the account of some bushy, over-the-lip, hair.  

I'm not freaking out that he's turning 1, it feels right.  A year has gone by.  He's definitely light-years away from the tiny, squealing baby that emerged from my stomach.  But it does go so fast and the amount of growth in the first year is tremendous.  

I've loved every stage of it.  The cuddly newborn, the night feedings realizing millions of other parents were up at the same time, bleary eyed as I was.  The Golden Baby: when he started sleeping through the night, smiling, laughing, playing.  The Vocal Baby: sounds, raspberries, screams.  It's all been fun (mostly).

And as the saying goes, "Time flies..."

This Day..

This day was a throw your kid up in the air kind of day.  The kind of day where a ponytail is needed just as much as a little dress. 

This day was a mama got 3 blisters day, but that walk to the park was all worth it for what kind of smiles we got on those swings.

This day was a bring your elephant to work day.  Company mandate.

 

This day was a day where you know you're loved.  Not only that you are loved, but you are loved A LOT.  
 

This day was rooftop decks, skylines, wind in your face, and soft mama kisses.

This day was all about chubby thighs and arms, pinching cheeks of all varieties.  

This day was pure cheese.  Big smiles, little teeth, a lot of excitement crammed in 24 hours.
 

 This day I loved you a little more than yesterday.

Brixton: 10 Months

Brixton is 10 months old and has seemingly transitioned to more of a toddler stance in the past month.  Well, a toddler who can't actually toddle.  Or crawl for that matter.  Yep, he's still mobility-challenged, although I think by the time our 11 month old update comes along, we might have news to report.

He's starting to try to pull up on things more and more and he loves to stand (with help).  He's started to dance.  He's waving and clapping.  He wags his little finger during our Five Little Monkeys books, when the doctor scolds them.  He is, without a doubt, done with 99% of all pureed foods.  He shakes his head 'no' when we try to feed them to him.  He's all about PB&J, spicy Cuban beans, polenta, Gardenburgers, plantains, and drinking out of a straw, something that took him only one day to master.  He's totally a genius, right?  Wrong.  He can't crawl yet, remember?

He's definitely showing more attitude and opinions.  He cries more when things don't go his way.  We left the park today and he got mad.  He likes to be held more.  He LOVES being read to.  He loves his papa.  I thought he was transitioning down to one nap a day, but I think it led to his cranky alter ego and the Very Bad Week, so we are back to two naps a day, and like magic, it worked.  He understands so much, both in German and English, which thrills me to no end.  Just today I asked him in German, Where's your stomach?  and he promptly touched his own fat tummy, as opposed to mine.

Now that we're in the city, he's got a whole gaggle of new things to look at, hear, explore.  We've been under the 'L' train a few times when it's gone by--it's incredibly loud--and he starts a bit, then looks around with a worried look on his face.  I always cover his ears.  It just seems like the right thing to do, though I'm the one 34 years closer to deaf.  He's settled in to the new sounds of the city like a champ, sleeping through sirens, barking dogs and a crew of inmates walking down the sidewalk to pick up trash escorted by a Sherriff's van.  Ah, city life.  

This looks says to me, I'm only sitting here like this because you gave me a lemon cookie yesterday (recipe from Sarah--delish BTW).  I'm appeasing you, mother.  

**EDIT: I pride myself on now trying to reply to your comments.  I know it irks me when I comment on someone's blog and they don't acknowledge it (this applies only to blogs I don't often, if ever, comment on, not my regular ladies).  Sometimes I get behind, but I do reply!  So maybe it's a few days, or even a week later, but I do respond! So forgive me if I get behind!**

Jamaican Me Crazy

Summer's coming.  Can you feel it?  With that hour lost yesterday, it brought a few extra degrees into the city and with it: skirts, shorts, sweaty pits, and a whole lot of people eating ice-cream and smiling.

None of those things described yours truly, save the sweaty pits and smiles. 

The morning started off with a mad dash to church.  I've spent the past five years looking for a church in the various places we've lived, but nothing felt good.  This one did.  The place was spacious, the people friendly (and our age, with loads of little ones running around) and the message was poignant and shockingly relevant to my life right now.  Like He knew what I needed to hear to be able to exhale and say, I'm home.  

Later in the day, we took a family jaunt to Lincoln Park, to a delicious and spicy Jamaican restaurant.  Despite the fact that Brixton wore a crab on his shirt, he was the furthest thing from crabby.  

He ate with gusto, noshing on stew chicken, cornbread, white bread and beans, taking in the sights and sounds from our window booth.  Brendan and I ate fast with our fingers, like parents are wont to do when they are anxious their little one is going to become that baby, the one screaming in the restaurant.  But he didn't.  He was actually quite pleasant and I rejoice in the fact that the cranky and fussing baby from last week has been replaced by this one with smiles and waves for everyone.  

We are busy, busy, busy here in the city.  I have to write it all in my calendar to keep it straight.  Playgroups, Bible studies, things to do, things to eat.  It's a new adventure, an invigorating time in our lives as a newish family--old, but still young--finding new love and appreciation in the strangest of places.  Places we never thought we'd end up.  

 

Mommy Groups

One of the best parts of living in the city now is meeting other moms and making friends.  I've signed myself up for about 6 meetup groups, all in the hopes of making some good connections and giving Brixton a chance to see that other children use their arms and legs to propel themselves across rooms. You know, learning from others and all that.

I went to my first mommy group yesterday.  Mommy groups are kind of weird.  A bunch of strangers, sitting around in a room, watching/ignoring our kids and talking about random things, like birth stories and hemorrhoids.  I guess it's only weird at first until you get to know each other. 

All was well.  Then it started sounding like one of the "Stuff _____________ Say" videos.  This one would have been called Stuff Mommy Group Members Say.  "Who's your doula?"  "What did your midwife say?"  "Did you try acupuncture for that?"  "Is it organic?"  At one point my coffee almost shot out of my nose as I tried to stifle inner-laughter. 

Then I put my coffee down on a table.  I'm no beginner around kids, so I placed it in a respectable distance from the edge.  Well, this little boy apparently had the wing span of an eagle, because I heard splash, mother gasps, and the soft cries of a coffee drenched kid.  Luckily, I'd been there a while and the coffee was lukewarm at most.  For a second, I didn't realize it was my coffee.  Mommy-brain and all.  Then, it became clear.  I apologized a few times, since obviously in an adult vs. kid coffee spilling scenario, the adult is actually always to blame.  The kid spent the rest of the playgroup topless, his fat stomach protruding out, his nipples looking at me, saying  "Hey Coffee Lady.  Now no one here is gonna be your friend."

Also not a good thing to do when just meeting people you don't know: bashing Republicans.  How do you know I'm not one?  How do you know my entire family isn't?  What an assumption.  Like only young-ish, educated, and very good looking mothers can't be Republicans.  Be the tolerance you preach.  I'm printing that on a shirt and wearing it to our next meetup next week. Get yours HERE.  Just kidding.  I wouldn't actually link that.  xo

Baby Fat Update II

Today's official weigh-in revealed that I have lost another few lbs. since last months weigh-in, despite the fact I stopped going to the gym weeks ago and I haven't been eating well AT ALL lately.  

I didn't reach my goal though of being back at my pre-baby weight.  I still have 1.8 lbs. to go, so I'm pretty happy with that.  

I started the year off so strong, running, not eating sugar, feeling really motivated.  What is it about life that just takes that feeling and squashes it?  I'm hoping that city living will naturally get me moving more, though with all the restaurant temptations here I can't really promise anything on the eating front. I do need to curb the sugar again though, it really helped me.  

So, now my new goal is to be under my pre-baby weight of 134 by Brixton's first birthday..I think 132 or so is reasonable for me.  My end goal weight is 128.  I weighed that in high school, through my 20s and just in the last few years I've watched the scale slowly tip up.  

Still, I look in the mirror at my stomach and can't fathom that I grew a person in there.  The body is truly amazing!

Adjusting.

We decided to take a break from unpacking today and do something fun.  Yesterday was horrible.  Brixton was in a bad mood all day, which made me crabby all day, which made Brendan crazy all day.  The sun was shining this morning and the weather report called for temps in the 60s (!!) so we decided to take Brixton to the aquarium.  

Before I report that though, I just have to say: I can walk to coffee shops again.  That's so exciting to me I just can't tell you.  It's been 5 years since we lived somewhere where I wanted and could walk to the coffee shop.  I love coffee shops.  

Coffee shop day was yesterday:

I snapped up a Phil&Ted's Metro baby-backpack..for $60 brand new at a baby resale shop a few months ago!  Score!  Brixton loves riding up high and peeking around at everything.  Perfect for the city.

Our new place has huge windows that I love and really deep window sills, so I put my plants there.  They make me happy.  Brixton was happy too, but don't let him fool you; this transition to the new place has brought out a bad city attitude in this guy.

At the aquarium we saw the "show."  Beluga whales. Trainers.  Fish.  I guess I was expecting Sea World or something, with big swimming mammals flying out of the water or jumping through a ring or whatever.  Nope.  This show was "educational."  AKA I almost fell asleep.  I can only see a Beluga wave his flipper at me so many times. 

I want to nibble that little baby head. Ugh..serious. Okay, maybe not right not since he just went to sleep, but I'll take a nibble in the morning.

So after a few hours of wandering around, looking at jellyfish, sea otters and other things that I like on a sushi platter, we stopped at the cafe for breakfast burritos and the world's largest cupcake that looked almost exactly like a Hostess cupcake but bigger.  I ate it.  It wasn't even 11 am.  Oh well, there's always tomorrow.  

I'm getting used to the noises here.  Luckily, our loud TV neighbor hasn't cranked up his movies the past few nights, so I hope that was just a fluke.  We got a new stereo yesterday so having some music on helps me not focus on other people's noise so much.  But we have so much to do still to get this place in order.  Moving with a baby is not nearly as easy as when you are baby-less.  

Time to make some tea and organize the CDs...

The Move & The Chicago Police

Typing this from my *new* city apartment.  Currently drinking one cup of coffee, listening to traffic noises, watching a baby desperately try to crawl.  The move is done.  We are in.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

We had the most awesome people helping us move.  The most.  We had an extra person show up on her day off (who does that???).  There were some bumps in the road and it took us about 10 hours and two trips, but it's done.  

And now I live in box-land.  Somehow the unpacking isn't quite as much fun as I remembered.  Confession: I've been wearing jeans to sleep.  Partly because I'm so tired, mostly because I have no clue where my pjs are.  Gross, I know.  

Last night we had our first (and hopefully last) encounter with Chicago Police.  Our neighbor has a very loud TV/stereo system.  It shares a wall with not only our living room, but Brixton's room.  I am not a good apartment dweller because I hate hearing other people's noise.  It makes me crazy.  But when Brendan woke me up at 1:30am fully dressed with wild eyes, I knew the noise had finally gotten to him too.  

The neighbor left their TV system on with the starting screen of a DVD going.  Loud music on repeat.  Bass.  And did I mention that our room doesn't even share a wall?  So, yeah, it was loud.  Brendan went over and knocked on their door.  No answer.  He wrote an angry note, which I told him to rewrite since it was too angry.  Long story short the police came.  They knocked on the door.  Suddenly the guy was there.  He fell asleep with that TV on.  Seriously?  I want to karate-chop that guy.  He woke my baby up 3 times.  But, you know, you can't tell people that.  They'd be like "I don't care about your baby."

So besides that and the little girl who lives upstairs and runs around and jumps up and down on my ceiling (BANG. BANG....BANG!), things are great.  

It's going to take me a bit of time to adjust, I think.