Not Fantasy

Our camera took a little tumble during Joshua's week away in the Rockies, and apparently all it needed was a short roll from the bed to a carpet to turn the LCD screen into a Jackson Pollack. Sadness. It's currently off in the suburbs getting repaired, and in the meantime we've been just been using our phone cameras to capture Matilda's every move. Someday, she will wonder why whole weeks of her life, including holidays, were only photographed using hipstamatic. Is it necessary to make july 4th 2011 look like a moody summer day in the 1970s?

No. But maybe yes?

By the way, I'm having the worst time trying to make my photos bigger on this blog. I messed with the html to make this a 3 column layout a while ago, and now everything I upload is really small and I cannot figure out how to make it larger. I can google my way through a lot of things (recipes, online shopping, if it's likely that any of us have a rare disease) but now I think google wants me to host my pictures somewhere else besides Blogger? It led me to some message boards from 2009 that were very rude about the Blogger picture upload feature, but very out of date as to how to fix this. Not helpful. Can anyone tell me how to fix this?

Also, as I was typing that last sentence my computer completely froze, sad faces appeared on all my tabs (I am not making this up), and then everything crashed. So...small pictures it is!

Matilda update: in the last few weeks she's experienced the thrill of the kiddie pool, been to the splash park a few times and learned that she loves swings.

This picture is huge. What is going on here? It's also adorable.

We discovered on her first day at the park over the holiday weekend that she can sit up unassisted. It's been all downhill from there - literally, she'll sit happily for 10 minutes straight and then suddenly do a terrifying bobblehead move that lands her on her belly in less than a second. This girl has no fear and seems oblivious to pain; she'll look up and grin at us like that tumble was the highlight of her day, let's do it again guys! She grabs her feet, practices pushups, and would rather sleep on her belly for naps. My SIDS-averse, panicky little self can hardly stand this development - I have been a no bumpers, no blankets, no belly psycho for the first few months of her life. I'm slightly more fond of the way she sleeps on her side at night, one leg straight down, one pulled up towards her chest, hands clasped together right near her face. It's exactly, freakishly, limb for limb the way I sleep and it fascinates me to no end because it's another one of the odd curiosities of watching your genetics play around in someone else's body.

After weeks of Matilda reaching and swiping for our food, and weeks of bemoaning whether or not she was ready and how exactly we should go about it, we decided it was time for her to start solids. Ok, the bemoaning part was me. Joshua was all, whatever you want to do! I'll stand over here far away from the crazy lady who can't stop talking about baby food theories! I did manage to get a grip and realize I was overthinking the entire process (I'm not sure why this was the hill that my teeny tiny smidge of type A-ness chose to die on) and then I just smushed up avocado in some breastmilk and Matilda was absolutely thrilled by the whole thing.

And by 'just smushed up', I mean I went to Whole Foods to find the perfect organic avocado, also purchased the perfect organic sweet potato, spent a while debating which one to give her first, and then took a lot of pictures of Matilda playing with the stupid fruit/vegetable (fruitable!) before she ate it. I know...

On a non-baby related note, I haven't seen Harry Potter 7.2 yet. Or 7.1. Or 6. This is not because I don't adore Harry Potter. I do. I bought each of the books the day they came out and devoured them. I would tell Joshua in all seriousness that I was completely unavailable on a Harry Potter release day. After I finished The Deathly Hallows, I closed that huge book and cried because when I started reading the series I was a kid and suddenly it was over and Harry was all grown-up and so was I. I love those books; all the magic and whimsy and deep truths about everything from how much it sucks to be fifteen to how love and friendships are so intensely powerful. I love the entire, endlessly imaginative, courageous world that JK Rowling created in those books, and I hate that Harry's story is over. So while I think that the movies are surprisingly good and may have the most charmed and perfect casting of any book adaptation ever, I'm not ready to finish it all yet and I haven't been since I finished book seven. I'm waiting because I hate when something so utterly enjoyable really, truly ends. This is called denial, and I'm wallowing in it. And, (spoiler, look away) Fred. Fred! I have spent more time than I care to admit wondering why, of all the plucky heroes who could have been offed in the final pages, it had to be him. I feel like without Fred, George is aimlessly wandering through his post-battle for Hogwarts life and this saddens me immensely. Obviously, I'm not emotionally ready for the cinematic version.

Also, Joshua doesn't like Harry Potter.

He. Doesn't. Like. Harry!!!

I'll let that one sink in, and then I'll tell you that I'm holding out this thin shred of hope that he will suddenly see the light (lumos!), will read all seven books immediately, start a movie marathon with me, and let me cry on his shoulder when the last one ends. This is never going to happen because he, and I quote, "doesn't like fantasy."

Really, there are no words.

So. The end of Harry Potter reduces me to weepy sentimentality, Joshua apparently lacks a soul, our daughter eats organic avocadoes, and our camera remains captive in the suburbs. I've caught up on our life, and it's as messy and crazy and non-fantasy as ever.

Quite Long For a Post In Which I Say Very Little

I feel like I have only lame things to write after almost a month away from this space; just little odds and ends from our life. First of all, it pains me to report a disappointing update on the Glenn's Diner special I was raving about in this post. Joshua and I finally - after years of anticipation! - made it there at 4:45pm a few weeks ago for a late lunch/early dinner/how did you know we have a baby at home outing,and as it turns out the early bird special we have been blathering about all over town is not exactly as spectacular as we thought. It's not 'any fish any way', it's the fish they choose, their way. At a very reasonable price but still...I'm not sure how that all got twisted in our little minds, but for the record any fish any way would be a much better special and maybe someone should get on that.

Also for the record, Glenn's has this amazing brunch on the weekends and I really cannot recommend the make your own mimosa kits or the bloody marys enough. No, I did not get both, please reserve the judging of my character for another subject. Also my bloody mary came with a skewer of shrimp and that is pure lean protein for the baby.

You're welcome, Matilda.

Speaking of the baby, she will be five months old on July 1st. Five. It's staggering to think about. I know everyone says how fast their children grow up, and honestly before Matilda was born I was getting a little annoyed by often we heard it. But, but, it's the truest truth anyone has ever spoke to us about parenting. She was a wee sleepy newborn only five months ago, and now she rolls over, laughs, blows bubbles, is thisclose to sitting on her own, grabs all her toys, my hair, our clothes, likes to 'pet' the animals by ripping out their fur, yells, babbles, and even tried to help herself to a fistful of avocado salsa off my plate the other day. I stopped her pudgy fingers half a second before her first solid food ever would have consisted of a lot more garlic and cilantro than is generally recommended. She does something new almost every single day and it just GOES BY SO DAMN FAST. I love each new stage, and I know my mama life will be even more fulfilling as she grows up, but oh my heart, this child raising gig is bittersweet.

What else...Joshua is currently gone for the week on a business trip, and I completely hate living 'alone'. I'm not sure that's the right term when one remains responsible for a baby, a dog, two cats, and maintaining a functioning home, but the lack of intelligent conversation and surplus of poop that is mine alone to deal with is...unfortunate. Also unfortunate: discovering a flat tire as I was about to leave for work and our completely housebroken dog unexpectedly relieving his bladder on the bedroom floor the other morning. That was the bonus round, I think. Dear single parents and/or partners of those who travel frequently, I salute you. This sucks.

My lack of motivation by the time the day is over has led me to the most random post-baby-bedtime television viewing I can remember - the last few days have included Dr. Who, Freaks and Geeks, My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, the strangely appealing yet demographically odd for me Men of a Certain Age, The Closer and an after-midnight viewing of Falling Skies, which I started only because I have this terrible weakness for post-apocalyptic dramas about the ragged human race banding together to fight the aliens/robots/whatever. (I also have a weakness for run-on sentences). I always like to imagine that if I was in a a similar situation, I would of course survive the initial attack and go on to be a gutsy heroine despite the fact that when Joshua is away I have to sleep with at least one light on.

Last bit of randomness...I gave away all our disposable diapers to my friend whose baby has slightly less meaty thighs than my own little cupcake. Matilda is 100% cloth diapered except for when the laundry is really running behind, and I hadn't needed a disposable for a few weeks so by the time I wanted to use one during a long laundry cycle this week, I realized it was shockingly inadequate for my very...adequate baby. Rather than risk creating even more laundry for my bodily-function-weary self, I decided to put her in this contraption instead.

That's a cloth diaper insert wrapped in some burp rags stuffed into the bloomers that came with one of her dresses, and it worked beautifully. Although please don't think that I'm not running out to Target this afternoon to get some back-up disposable diapers, because I sure am. I'm crazier than I expected about cloth, and part of me would like to just swing without a safety net on this (granola mama, where did you come from?!), but I don't even want to imagine the ways in which I could regret that 'decision'.

Now that I've wandered on to this subject (can you tell I'm desperately in need of more adult interaction?), I think I have to stop writing now before I sink into even less exciting topics. Joshua will be home tomorrow and as I'm sure you can tell, we are all thrilled and relieved and giddy with anticipation.

Father's Day. What Do You Mean, It's Over...

My laptop charger bit the dust (more accurately, our dog bit it. It got caught up in one of Helo's chew toys and he happily chomped the cable right in half), which is why The Blogging halted to an abrupt stop at the beginning of June. This is Joshua's busiest time of the year at work, making his computer unavailable for the casual documentation of our domestic adventures (rude!), and I am pretty lazy when it comes to the ordering of the electronic things. Honestly, the lack of a computer at home was just giving us more time to devote to Words with Friends so we really didn't pull it together to order a new charger until this past week.

I didn't post on Father's Day, which wasn't meant as an affront to Joshua on his first Father's Day or to my dad on his 28th. I worked overnight Saturday, stayed up until late afternoon Sunday trying to make Father's Day great for Joshua, then turned into a weepy mess when the exhaustion caught up with me and my attitude started swinging from nearly hysterical to catatonic and back. Both Mother's and Father's Day were a little shaky for us this year - what can I say? Life was messy and tiring before we became a part of all the extra parental (long-anticipated, well-appreciated) holidays.

Even though I crashed and burned spectacularly on Father's Day, and couldn't pull it together to finish making dinner, let alone type this on my phone, I want everyone to know how proud I am of Joshua. And I also want to celebrate that I've been blessed with a dad who is strong, principled, and yet unafraid to show emotion and sentimentality. I was never spoiled and I am not a 'daddy's girl'. I was expected to face the consequences of my actions, and I certainly couldn't go running to my dad to get out of being disciplined. I wasn't punished mindlessly - I remember sitting on the kitchen counter, talking about what I'd done and why it was wrong and how my actions had disappointed my parents. Then my dad would make us all english muffins at midnight and tell me he loved me despite my bad attitude/lying/sneaking around/everything else I was doing and we'd all go off to bed only to repeat this delightful routine a few days later. I was always told I was loved. Always, even when I hurt my parents deeply, and there were a few years when that was what I did best.

No one parents perfectly, but I'm pretty sure books have been written to teach fathers how to raise their girls the way my dad intuitively parented me. So here's the best Father's Day gift ever - I'd like to say thank you to my dad for being strict. For having high expectations. For grounding me, both in the metaphorical sense and in the no phone privileges sense. Most of all, for just talking. Oh, so much talking - it made me crazy then and there's nothing I appreciate more now.

I hated the fact that my dad was less interested in being my friend during my horrid teenage years and more interested in keeping me on the straight and narrow path. But now my highest hope for Joshua is that Matilda can't stand him the second she hits middle school. Years later, when she can look back and see that his protective actions sprang out of a deep, intense love for her, I hope that she will also be able to say thank you. Thank you for ruining my hormone-addled little teenage life so I would grow up to have character and values.

(I think this is the parenting jackpot, right? Your kids actually telling you that you did it right. However, Dad, I will add that you went a little crazy with the TV censoring when I was little - I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have stunted my moral development to watch Full House.)

Joshua was terrified to have a daughter, but really he already shares the elusive combo of emotional vulnerability and embarrassing toughness as my dad. He made me start sobbing -unexpectedly, messily - when he started singing Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" to Matilda the night we came home from the hospital. It was the very first song she ever heard (that wasn't the sappy intentional decision it sounds like; we were just too busy making sure she was breathing to ever turn on the TV or radio before that), and now it's their song. Thankfully I didn't have to weep alone in my postpartum haze, Joshua even made himself cry with the sweetness of it all. And oh is Matilda lucky to have a dad that will cry over her, pray over her, and put in the hard work to develop her self worth and self respect.

I know, because I am that lucky myself.

So hopefully this post can partly make up for the fact that Father's Day ended with Joshua making us both dinner while I basically snoozed into a wine glass. And the fact that I only sent quick phone pictures of Matilda to my dad, and we were never able to actually talk on Sunday. I am blessed and my daughter is blessed because we have wonderful fathers.

Happy Father's Day, one week, one day, and one new laptop charger later. I love you guys.

In Which I Pretend to Be a Food Blogger

I really do love to cook.

I just don't do it often enough. Between working three nights a week, the vast and endless world of Chicago restaurants begging us to eat on their patios instead of in our condo, and the fact that my husband could happily eat a bowl of popcorn instead of a meal any day of the week, my motivation to cook isn't exactly through the roof.

However, I'm discovering that I have surprisingly strong opinions on how I want Matilda to perceive food, meals, and eating in general, so our days of flopping in front of the TV to chow down on one of our beloved Trader Joes freezer meals are dwindling. I'm actually so excited we have a baby to motivate us into changing our lazy habits - with a city full of farmers markets and our half-share in a CSA starting right around her six month birthday in August, we have no excuses not to eat healthily and well at home.

There's a restaurant near us with this amazing earlybird any-fish-any-way special that has become a huge joke between Joshua and I. We love this place - Glenns Diner for you Chicagoans - and we are obsessed with this elusive special and yet we have never, not once, been able to remember when it ends and make it on time. Well! It turns out it ends at the geriatric hour of FIVE pm, and we were reminded of that this week when we thought fish sounded good and we were thinking it was still shockingly early in the evening. After some frantic iPhone searching and an ill-advised left turn into traffic, we discovered that at 5:33, we were going to miss it. We really didn't want to spend a ton of money on dinner, but now we were in a seafood-or-bust mood, so out of the blue I decided to make fish tacos at home.

We made a quick detour to Trader Joes and sat in the car for a minute searching for an easy recipe online, which I then promptly ignored (this is why I cannot ever bake anything! It's like I get mad at the recipe for being so bossy). We grabbed a few ingredients and within an hour were eating a healthy, delicious, completely homemade meal. Why do we not do this more often? I have absolutely no idea.

We Will Never Ever Make It to Glenn's Before 5pm Fish Tacos

Marinade

1/4 cup olive oil

Juice from 1/2 a lime

1 tbs apple cider vinegar

1 tsp garlic

1/2 tsp cumin

1/4 tsp cayenne

Salt/Pepper to taste

Tilapia fillets (we found 3 large frozen fillets at Trader Joes for $5.97. Is this a good price? I have no idea, I don't buy fish).

I'm also not a food blogger, so voila! Ingredients dumped in a bowl! And that is exactly what we did - whisked everything together, brushed it over both sides of the fish, let it sit for about 15 minutes, and then put the fillets in individual foil packets for the grill.

Fish, marinating pre-grill. The photography dwindled during the foil to grill process because a certain four month old SOMEONE needed to eat. Joshua is the grilling expert in our house, but I do know that white fish needs to be cooked until it's opaque and easily flakes with a fork. Grilling time is going to vary but for us with the fish in foil that took ten to fifteen minutes.

Slaw Topping

2 cups shredded green cabbage

1/2 cup greek yogurt (you could use sour cream or mayo or some combo of these, but we love the tang and protein of the yogurt)

2 tbs apple cider vinegar

juice of 1/2 lime

Salt/Pepper to taste

Mix all ingredients together, toss with cabbage and chill while the fish is grilling. Take pictures of the random ingredients still sitting around on your counters because the light is so pretty.

That corn and chile salsa is from Trader Joe's (like everything we eat, fresh and frozen, apparently) and it is deliciously sweet and a little spicy. It's totally not necessary but a nice bonus topping to the tacos.

Toppings

4 corn tortillas, warmed on the grill

1 avocado

1 jar of corn and chile salsa, awesome for the reasons listed above.

When the fish is done, break it into pieces with either a fork or clean hands (see Joshua up there with his sparkly clean paws?) and place into warmed tortillas. Slice up avocados.

Get really excited about smushing up avocados in the next few months and feeding them to your baby. Or if these don't happen to be your circumstances, get really excited because these tacos are wicked good and you are about to eat them. Top with the cabbage slaw, the corn salsa, avocado slices, look at the clock and realize 7pm is a much more normal time to eat dinner than before FIVE at Glenn's.

Enjoy...

On Memorial Day We Drink Sam Adams

I read a certain blog pretty regularly, written by a mama who is far more poetic and sentimental and glass-not-just-half-full-but-overflowing than I am. She's also a photographer with gorgeous kiddos and a beautiful home. Despite the fact that she is very honest about the (serious) challenges her family faces, sometimes when I read her blog her life looks and sounds so magical that I wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow she posted a picture of a unicorn sleeping on her front lawn.

Every once in a while the sappy yet completely sincere tone of this particular blog irks me. That's really not a criticism (I absolutely love the writing and the photos - and actually I aspire to be more in love with the moment and welcoming of unicorns), it's just a personality difference. Idealistic and romantic are probably not words anyone would use to describe me.

Right?

But we just had one of those weekends that was so perfect and memorable I felt like I was living inside one of her 'life is beautiful' blog posts. It made me want to bust out all of my flowiest adjectives and capture every fleeting moment in both words and photos.



Grinning, glowy little baby...beaming mama.

Matilda is going to be four months tomorrow, and she is just exploding with smiles, babbles, silly expressions and noises. She grabs everything and tries to stuff it in her mouth, she rubs her eyes when she's tired and looks so much like a kid that it makes my heart stop, she adores anything brightly colored, she's intensely curious and most importantly every day she shows off more of her personality. Joshua and I were home together for the whole three day weekend and every day with her was just...glorious (whoop! nice adjective).

If you live in Chicago you know this has been the lamest, chilliest, rainiest spring of all time (I'm not sure that's actually a fact, but I think emotions are really what matter when it comes to weather anyways) and then this weekend torrential storms suddenly gave way to a scorching and sunny Memorial Day. We tucked Matilda deep beneath the sunshade of her stroller and roamed all over the neighborhood, sucking up iced coffee and accidentally burning our shoulders because inevitably every year we are so excited for the summer we forget how quickly pasty turns to lobster in the sun.



It's quick, my pale friends. Quick.

Matilda's pudgy toes and buttery thighs have been bare since summer arrived yesterday morning. I think she has worn at least six outfits in 48 hours, partly because she is a drooly mess these days, and partly because I've been impatiently waiting to put her in sundresses and rompers and then my mind sort of exploded from how cute they all are. She runs her hands over her skin constantly, like she is just as surprised as the rest of us by how soft babies are. I love being able to see her big belly and the wrinkly, stretchy skin on her back and her fluffy cloth diaper booty.



What did we do this weekend? Really nothing extraordinary. We saw friends and family, we got take-out, we drank Sam Adams because Joshua said that was the patriotic thing to do (um...ok),we took Helo to the parking lot a block away that has become our lazy day dog park, we went to church, we pushed Matilda in endless loops around the neighborhood, we made a last minute trip to Jewel for hot dogs last night because I said eating leftover Chinese food for Memorial Day wasn't patriotic (oh yes, two can play this game). We used the last of our baby giftcards to buy Matilda a tragically large, bright, jungle-themed activity seat/exersaucer/jumper thing and the absolute joy on her little face made me heavily regret my aversion to plastic baby crap. Guess who loves plastic baby crap? Oh that's right...babies.



Matilda hollers at that parrot lineup like they have gravely offended her, and it is hilarious. We laugh at her and she just yells louder and then pauses to smile at us, which makes us laugh more. It also makes me realize again what a privilege it is to be a parent. We make so many decisions about what our babies eat, or don't eat, their schedules, or lack thereof, what they wear and see and listen to and that is the raising part of having children. Then there is the pure wonder of just watching a baby grow up and change from a sleepy newborn to a babbly, opionated, parrot-taming little human. It is really no less surprising than if we walked out to the living room one day and a unicorn was standing there all like, hey can I sleep here tonight?

Ok, I've killed it. I've killed the unicorn thing.

This long weekend really was gorgeous. Stormy, sunny, sappy sweet..glass full to overflowing. However, all the idyllic moments in the world cannot spontaneously improve my self-portrait photography skills. Apparently urban parents struggle to quickly focus their hipstamatic camera when they should be paying more attention to their dog and baby blocking the sidewalk.



Oh yes. We are those people. Watch out, Chicago.

Happy Nurses Week!

Yes, I have returned to work just in time for National Nurses Week! I like to think of this week as a great time to celebrate our challenging and rewarding profession, and also a great time to receive a new tote bag or some sort of hospital-logo'd swag. Or even a pen. I'm not picky.

To be entirely honest, I've never considered being a stay-at-home mom. There are so many reasons - I love my job, I love contributing financially to our family, I have much better and cheaper health insurance, we live in an expensive city and have a mortgage and a houseful of animals and a coffee habit to maintain and I just found out how much preschool costs around here...maybe I'm getting off track here, but the bottom line is that we are a dual income family by choice. This is what works for our family, at this point in our lives. Of course there is also the small matter of me being contractually obligated by the federal government to stay at my job for another 1.5 years while they pay off my student loans. I'm pretty sure defaulting on that contract requires me to pick up trash along the highway or give my condo to a diplomat or something tragic, so! Off to work by choice and the fear of Uncle Sam I go.

But even though I knew I was going back to work 12 weeks after Matilda was born, it's not like I was thrilled about it. I work nights and (please don't hate me for what I'm about to say) my baby sleeps like a rock and I had a very restful three months off. I am actually cringing looking at that sentence; somewhere out there another mom is cursing me and God is checking off the "Colic" box on our future children. But I was nervous about all the sleep switching and Matilda's schedule and then about a week before my first day back I had this meltdown that basically went "No one can take care of my baby like I can! No one knows how to calm her down like I can! What if I can't pump enough at work and my boobs explode! What if what if SIDS SIDS SIDS I don't want to go sob sob SIDS what if exploding boobs sob sob WEEP!" Joshua would probably like to write his own version of this story, but the bottom line is I had been calm and realistic for my entire maternity leave and then I took this spectacular dive into crazytown. Even though the only people I ever have to leave Matilda with are Joshua, my mother-in-law, and my best friend. What a sketchy group of 'babysitters'.

Two weeks ago I went back to work, because that's our new (and old) routine, and because I don't want to be in the default chain gang, and it was shockingly not that bad.

I did cry when I walked out the door for the first time. And then I had a moment at Starbucks about 7 minutes later when the barista asked what she could get me and I fully intended to say an iced venti Americano but instead I choked up and just made this little squeak instead. But I pulled myself together and got to work and it was fine. I love being a nurse (Happy Nurses Week to us!), I love taking care of babies, and thankfully I am not at all a weepy mess around the sick kiddos even though I am a mom now. My boobs did not explode, Joshua did not sleep through Matilda crying, I did not forget how to do my job, and then I rushed home in the morning and have never been happier to see my little family.

I won't say that being a working mom - all two weeks of it - has been entirely smooth sailing. It's difficult to get myself ready and get enough sleep before and after work when I just want to spend time with Matilda. It's annoying to leave my patients to pump, and annoying to remember everything I need to make that happen. I end up messing up our schedules trying to breastfeed Matilda right up until the very second I have to run out the door so I don't have to pump so many times at work. We also had some trouble figuring out which bottles and nipples were best for her, even though she's taken bottles without any fuss before. It's exhausting to wake up so many times to breastfeed when I'm sleeping between shifts, since she goes for long stretches overnight but needs to eat every three hours during the day. And then this past week, Tilda was entirely obnoxious and cranky for Joshua and he was tired and frustrated himself. I called him to see how things were going and I heard the baby screeching in the background right before he yelled in a high pitched voice, "I am freeaaakkkiing out!" They certainly weren't having a good time, and I couldn't do anything about it, and that sucked.

But! I hung up that phone at work, said a little prayer for Joshua's sanity, and then realized I was actually glad I wasn't home. While I don't think I'll ever happily run out the door to work, I like being there and having a break from the day to day mommy routine. I love my coworkers, they make me laugh, and twelve hours can fly by if you are having a good time with the people around you. I also like knowing that all the time I spent busting my ass in college was worth it for this, a flexible career that allows me to have lots of time with my own baby and still take care of other babies who need help getting started in life. And Joshua is an awesome dad who pulled it together, calmed our daughter down, put her to bed and felt really proud of himself that he did it alone.

There is always the mama guilt, I think biology and The Internet will not allow you to live your life without it. I feel guilty for leaving Matilda to go to work, and guilty that I like going to work. They tell me it doesn't get any better. Which is why I am hoping for a tote bag. And why I'm so thankful that tomorrow is bringing me my first real paycheck since Tilda was born (Happy Nurses Week to ME!)



The other morning I took some pictures of the tulips that are randomly growing on the ledge of the fifth floor of the parking garage at work. I have all these sappy thoughts about beauty in the midst of concrete (there is a metaphor here, and I think it's fairly obvious) but I can't even take myself seriously enough to go down that road. I love tulips. Here they are at work. And here I am at work. They are gorgeous, and being a working mom is just fine. The End.

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to my beautiful mom Claire!



I love my mom for so many reasons, but my empathy and respect for her have certainly increased now that I have a daughter myself. I think about Matilda growing up and I barely want to let her go to elementary school three blocks away. I know my mom must have felt the same way, but she never stopped me from plunging out into the world. When I came home from the trip where I met Joshua, I wrote her a letter gushing that I was sure he was going to be my husband and slipped it under her bedroom door because I was too scared to say it out loud. She never laughed at me or told me I was being a silly 19 year old - instead, she saved the letter I wrote her and gave it to me after Joshua and I really did get married. When I decided to move to Seattle from Massachusetts a few months after writing that letter, she never said it was too far, never made me feel guilty about the 3000 miles I was putting between us, or told me that the job I was moving for probably wasn't going to work out. It didn't, and I'm sure she wasn't surprised. But I found that out on my own, and that particular life fail was far more of a growing experience for me because of it.

I hope I will be a brave mom to Matilda, and let her go when she needs to go and I want to keep her close for my own selfish reasons. My mom helped me pack my bags to move away from home, she was excited (and probably terrifed, although she didn't show it) when I got engaged, she was supportive when we decided to leave Seattle and move to Chicago almost on a whim. She outlasted me on the dance floor at my wedding, genuinely thrilled to celebrate Joshua and I even though we were barely legal, totally broke, and blissfully stupid. But she supported me through all those things that seemed crazy at the time and have now led to the life I have and love right now. I'm so incredibly thankful for my mom and the way she navigated the tricky passage into parenting adult children. Our relationship is also a deep friendship because of it, and my greatest hope is that I will be able to be the same kind of mother to Matilda - strong, passionate,honest,compassionate - that my mother was to me.

I love you Mom. Happy Mother's Day!