My mini-vacation to the Central Coast...

We had a great time. It was tiring sitting in the car for all those hours, but fun nonetheless. Fortunately Avery can still fall asleep in the car pretty well, so she took most of her naps in the carseat while we drove along the scenic 101 and into Los Olivos, Pismo Beach, Morro Bay, San Luis Obispo, and Solvang.

I am glad to be home though!

More pics to be added soon!

File this one under "I'm turning into my mother."

Yesterday, I was reminded of a few things my mom did while I was growing up, and we just laughed and laughed at her because how could she be so senile?

It was all the typical 'senior moment' type stuff -- asking where the phone is while it's in your hand, looking for your glasses when they're on your head, opening up the cabinet instead of the refrigerator to put away the milk, etc. I suppose when we were small, we saw her as infallible, and when she made a silly mistake like that, we just roared with laughter and realized how great it is to see someone who flaunts their 'perfection' at every turn do something stupid. Now, of course, we realize she's far from perfect; in fact, I'd peg her far enough away to be a lot closer to 'completely nuts' on the scale of normal human behavior.

I had made a sippy cup full of milk for Avery, and after taking her usual 2 or 3 sips (that's another issue entirely) I decided to put the sippy in the fridge so she could drink some later.

When later came, I went to the fridge to retrieve the sippy, and when I didn't find it sitting where I could have SWORN I put it, I scanned the house quickly, didn't find it, and promptly filled a different sippy cup.

This morning, while reaching for the Ajax under the kitchen sink, there sat the still-filled sippy cup, between the Windex and the dishwasher detergent. At first, I looked at it and said, "Wow, that's where I put that!" I closed the cupboard doors and moved on to scouring the sink. A moment later I thought, Wow, that's where I put that? and quickly dumped the milk down the drain.

How preoccupied must one be to put the baby's food in with all the dangerous chemicals in the house? I would try to figure that out and write about it here, but I'm too preoccupied with watching the baby pull all of the CD's down off the shelf. I suppose this is what happens when you become a mother and then become your mother.

I don't know whether to laugh...

or run north to Canada with arms flailing wildly.

Christopher Walken for President in 2008? Nah. For a moment I thought that enough people would probably vote for him in the primaries to make him a viable contender. I mean, we do have Arnie as a Governor, after all.

Thank God it's a hoax!

I'll take a Number 2 with grilled onions, and a lemonade, to help with my fruit intake.

If you've ever been to a favorite restaurant of Southern Californians, In-N-Out, you've good reason to be jealous of me tonight. I had a single cheeseburger, fries, and a lemonade for dinner. Not exactly what I'd call healthy, but did it taste good? Yes, my friend, down to the last itty bitty morsel.

Can I get an "AMEN?"

A friend mentioned this article recently published in Salon Magazine that discusses the same sentiment as a recent blog post that I made about the (mostly) online debate over "Attachment" versus "Mainstream" Parenting. I can't really say anything to add to the article itself, but I should tell you it's a must read for all new moms (in my humble opinion, of course).

A little hazing with my first high school experience, please!

Every August, I'm always reminded of those days of yester-year, the ones I'd sometimes rather forget -- high school. Memories of cheerleading camp, back-to-school shopping, and the fear of being trash-canned come rushing back, and I owe it all to a most ridiculous tradition perpetuated by men who never 'made it' in their chosen sport, so they chose to be high school football coaches instead.

The tradition is "Hell Week" for all the prospective future high school football players. The city gets the police involved, the citizens-on-patrol, the parking enforcement officers, you name it. All for some silly rite of passage that includes a few kids puking, several tripping and hurting themselves, many who actually achieve what is asked of them and, as a result, walk around with inflated egos until they realize they have to actually get good grades to remain players.

I live on one of the steepest streets in my city, even though where my house is located it's actually level for about 200 yards, and each year the football coaches get to use my street in their first instance of hazing on those poor little ninth grade boys. My aging truck has trouble driving up my street, you bet your ass I'm not going to try running up it. Walking while pushing a stroller is even cumbersome at times.

I never remember its going to happen until I open my garage in order to back my car out and GO somewhere, or I happen to look outside and see some strange sort of organized chaos going on. Hence the reason for my story.

After finding out that Target opens at 8am, I decided to go and beat the crowds (yes, I said crowds -- you don't understand that Target means to this town) -- got dressed and ready and had the baby all in her carseat... only to back up and be stopped by Joe Meathead football coach whistling at me to get my attention.

Upon turning around and seeing some 50 teenage boy football team wannabes trying to make their way onto the team by proving how strong their endurance is, I realized I wasn't going anywhere for a little while... not until this part of "Hell Week" could make it through my neighborhood. Those poor children have to run up to Sunset Street, the site of one of the biggest cycling routes in the United States (or so the local cycling enthusiasts say).

So, I waited and watched and really felt a little sorry for those boys -- their high school 'memories' are only just beginning -- poor things. After the way was cleared, Joe Meathead football coach knocked on my back window to let me know the way was clear, and I continued backing out of my driveway while watching the last of the boys make their way up the street.

I have to admit, although it seems a little too much like hazing to me, I felt a bit of nostalgia for those days, when things were much simpler in some ways and more complicated in others. Then the baby made a little "let's get going" sort of whine, and I remembered that I get to go through it again, vicariously of course, and that's good enough for me.

I am really tired of...

people who exaggerate about what their babies can do. It's clear to me that certain people think they have to lie to make their children seem smarter and/or more physically capable than everyone else's. Ten-month old babies crawl, maybe walk, babble, maybe say a few words, explore, learn, and make their needs known by doing something (crying, whining, etc). Why pretend like they can draw pictures and then describe the scene they've drawn to you afterward? (hypothetical, but equally as ridiculous as what I've read). Sorry, but ten-month old babies can only do so much!

I hate it when people just flat-out lie, even when the rest of the world knows they're lying.

With gas-guzzling oversized vehicles comes...

a lack of decency, apparently.

I almost don't even want to link this, but because I find it so utterly disgusting, I need to rant about it, and without a link my post won't make much sense. So, against my better judgement, I'll share it. Click it before reading on.

What has this world come to, honestly? What's worse than having to see these things (and I'm seeing them more and more often of late), is that someday, I'll have the pleasure of explaining this kind of white trash crap to my child(ren). That horrifies me more than pulling up behind some enormous monster of a car, only to find that, not only is its owner releasing more than his fair share of toxic air pollution into our environment because of the sheer size of his 'vehicle,' he also has a flesh-colored plastic tow hitch ornament in the shape of a man's scrotum.

Yes, these things really exist.

Bleck.

Is this just a Southern California thing? Can't this be considered indecent and made illegal? Honestly? Women can't breastfeed in public in certain places without being accused of exposing themselves indecently, but men can hang fake nut sacks from the backs of their trucks and we're expected to wait behind them at a red light and look at those goddamn things? Isn't there some sort of law against driving around with artificial testicles hanging from your tow hitch?

I just don't know what more to say, except that I don't really believe anyone is entitled to their 'fair share' of toxic pollution.

Phil Hendrie, I'm your #1 fan!

Well, it's doubtful, but I do love the man. If you've never heard of him, you're probably not a talk radio fan. If you have, then you either love or hate him, as it seems to go with his audience, both fans and casual listeners or those that happen upon him while scanning the channels. He's easy to love, over time, but if you're a first time listener, you're probably wondering what the hell is going on, and who the hell is allowing it to happen.

Phil Hendrie is in a league of his own. He's brilliant. He actually explains how his show works from time to time, and invariably, a new listener will call in to tell him "Don't do it, then everyone will know!"

He basically runs a one-man show; in other words, "Talk to Yourself Radio," as the New York Times calls it in this article. He takes something from that day's or week's headlines, and starts to have a conversation about it. With himself. He does this by speaking in different voices and posing as different people. He'll say he has some sort of expert on the topic at hand on the line, and that 'expert' will prove him/herself to be anything but, spewing nonsense, often insensitively, for all the world to hear -- or, all the nation, anyway, as his show did reach the level of nationwide syndication a few years ago.

If you haven't listened to Phil or haven't heard of him, find out on his website when he's on in your area and what radio stations carry his show. I assure you, like I said before, you'll either love him or hate him!

When does the enormity of a favor cross the line?

If someone asked you if you'd store their car in your garage for a year, would you? Would it depend upon who asked you? Would it depend upon the reason?

Yeah.

School supplies CAN be fun!

Last summer, as back-to-school time inched closer, Office Max commercials started airing, focusing on their advertisement of school supplies to remind parents to buy them for their children. Normally, school supplies don't make for an especially exciting purchase, and the commercials to advertise them are usually even less so. Last summer, however, Office Max changed all that. Anna kept telling me about the "School Supply Guy," and I actually anticipated happening upon one of the commercials as fall approached. What I saw was goddamn fantastic.



The "Rubber Band Man" is Office Max's attempt at avoiding the mundane. And, oh boy, have they succeeded! I love this guy! He dances around, passes out school supplies unexpectedly, and just has a groovy old time. Who knew number 2 pencils and 3-ring binders could be so fun?

Sometimes it pays to read your spam email, literally.

About a month ago, I participated in an online 'discussion' via message boards about Yahoo! webhosting and all the perks/drawbacks. I only did so because they promised a $150 gift certificate to Amazon if I contributed my comments and answered their questions. I figured that since I spend too much time on message boards as it is, I may as well get paid for doing it, and $150 can go a long, long way at Amazon.

So, I participated, and about a week later, my gift certificate arrived.

I had already perused the Amazon site looking for what I could spend $150 on, and I was going to spend it ALL on myself, by golly. Turns out I couldn't resist getting a couple of things for Avery as well. There's something about having a baby girl -- you must turn her into a clothes horse so you can kick yourself for it later when she actually starts to choose what she wants to wear and hate what you pick out for her.

So, for myself, I bought the following:

Mary Janes
Little Black Shoulderbag
Clinique "Take Off the Day" Makeup Remover
Mixed Gemstone Bracelet

For Avery, the follwing items were purchased:

Pink Corduroy Mary Janes
Smocked Tank in Pink
Alphabet Fridge Magnet Set

Every item arrived separately, of course, which is totally annoying, but it was all FREE! I think it was Eddie Murphy, or maybe Chris Rock, who once said, "I'd stand in line for some free!"

I surrender...

I think 9 1/2 months of sleep deprivation torture is plenty. Most people think it's something I'm doing wrong.

She's too hot.
She's too cold.
She's hungry.
She's got a wet diaper.
She's teething.
It's too light in her room.
I put her to bed too late.
I put her to bed too early.
Her naps aren't good enough -- too short.
Her naps are too good -- too long.
She's not tired.
She's overtired.
She's a night owl.
She's an early riser.

Everyone's got her 'number' but me. What I think, though to most family members and friends, it's all but moot, is that she is the spawn of the devil.

Kidding.

Mostly.

I honestly believe she's just different. She doesn't sleep nearly as much as other babies. I can't explain why. It's just what it is.

At this point, I feel like my only option is to let her cry herself to sleep, as much as I was opposed to that in the beginning. In fact, I did just that for her nap today. It took her 8 minutes. She's now been asleep for an hour and a half.

Before she was born, and up until just recently, I was very opposed to doing it this way. I read an entire book about how to gently coax your baby to sleep. The book has several suggestions, many of which I tried, but it just didn't work -- not one damn bit, in fact.

So, it is what it is. I'm going to be able to live with this decision. Especially if this means she'll sleep better at night.

Apostrophe's

When in doubt, leave it out. Did no one learn that rule in school but me?

Today while at the hospital to visit my mom, I noticed that EVERY bathroom I visited (which was three, to be exact -- looking for a baby changing station) had a sign that said, "Employee's must wash hand's before returning to work." If this was a scribbled note taped to the soap dispenser, I could have rolled my eyes and moved on, not giving it much thought. This was a large square of etched plastic that was screwed onto the wall near the exits. This was something that was mass-produced, I'll bet, and whoever chose the wording (punctuation more precisely) was obviously NOT present on the day his/her 5th grade teacher taught the proper use of apostrophes.

Apostrophe's are thing's that shoul'd only be used when the writers sure theyre needed.

Sheesh.

This will be a hard week for me...

On Wednesday, my mom is having surgery to remove something called a "bronchogenic cyst" from her chest cavity. They are going to have to crack open her chest cavity to get to it. It's basically a cyst that they believe she's had since birth, and it lies in between her heart and lungs. It has grown from something very small at birth to what it is now -- the size of a softball -- and she's been having this problem with spontaneously choking and always feeling like there's something in her throat for years. They caught this cyst by accident when xraying her chest for pneumonia, but she had known something with wrong with her and had had numerous doctors check her throat internally for signs that something was wrong to no avail.

Anyway, the surgery is pretty serious... obviously. I think I have been in denial about it and haven't really told anyone. I am worried she won't come out of it, mostly because she's a smoker, and she's going to have to have general anesthesia for the surgery, and to my knowledge, she hasn't quit smoking (even if only temporarily) to improve the amount of oxygen in her system, which is where complications might arise from.

This is not considered an elective surgery, but a life-saving one at this point -- after further examination, they see that the cyst is mostlikely attached to her heart and/or her lungs, and at some point could suffocate either or both, so it must be removed.

Soooo, this is going to be a long, confusing, tough week, and I'm not looking forward to it. I hope it ends up being a simple surgery and an easy recovery for my mom.