sueeeus

I’ve been a bit hell-bent on home-made this year, to the extent that it sort of dampens the spirit of things.  At least in the realm of  edibles.

I did lasso Gadget into helping with a project, and he did swimmingly.  Behold the espresso knock box(es)!

A knock box is a receptacle with a bar against which one whacks the espresso portafilter to remove the used puck.

Gadget was actually impressed that I’d gone to the hardware store on my own and found copper pipe, clear tubing, rubber grommets, and copper end caps.  Yes, Dear… …Women can shop at hardware stores too…

I’d seen these made from plumbing materials, but a piece of drain pipe still looks like a piece of drain pipe, even with a pretty copper bar poked through either end.  Fine for the grunge rocker or starving artist, but a bit too industrial for my taste.  Instead, I found plastic iced tea tumblers to use as the body.  Granted, they’re not nearly as thick and strong as the PVC, but they don’t look half bad, and I think they’ll hold up for at least a little while.

I merely had to ask Gadget to borrow ‘the cutter thing that cuts a 4 inch circle’ and he took over the project from there, cutting the holes, sanding the edges smooth, and assembling the various pieces.  All I had to do was mark where I wanted holes drilled and cuts made, and after that, I took on a supervisory role.  Genius!

We made four because the copper pipe only came in 2ft lengths, and I needed 6in.  I can always sell the extras on eBay.

The other gift project was aromatic bath salts.  I tried to duplicate one of my favorites, a blend of peppermint and eucalyptus, but didn’t get the ratio of essential oils quite right.  It’s nice, though, and hopefully the recipients will like them.  I did remember at the last moment that my SIL has an aversion to mint, so I filled one jar with a blend of grapefruit, dewberry, and something called tropical tango.  It’s different, but not bad.  I ran out of salt, though, so it didn’t quite fill the jar.

I think that wraps up my artsy craftsy efforts for 2008.

This, however, is by far the best thing made this year.

I’m through with the domperidone, and not sure whether the milk supply has taken a hit yet, but am hoping that having the drug out of my system will improve my hormonal outlook.

Post partum hair loss has set in.  If only weight loss were as easy as hair loss.

I hit the jackpot with this bundle of babyliciousness.  He has the best disposition.  When he’s hungry, he kicks  his legs a certain way –alternating, like running or cycling.  When he’s playing in his bouncy seat, he kicks his legs another way, in unison, to get the seat bouncing.  He can really get it going.  Such a smartie!  When our eyes meet he bursts into a giant radiant slobbery smile that melts me to the core.  When he’s tired he flails and squirms until I give him his pacifier, then he contendedly burrows his face to one side or the other, settles in and goes to sleep.  Lately he’s been studying his hands; he’s figuring out that they’re attached to his arms, and trying to make them do his will.  It’s amazing, really, to watch this learning take place.  He’s discovering his voice, which has the most gorgeous resonance.  I hope he will be interested in music!

It is a winter nightmare wonderland around here.  While the snow is quite pretty, and there is a glorious bite to the crisp crisp air, I simply can’t bring myself to drive on the icy roads if it’s not absolutely necessary.  So I’m holed up in my house, still, and feeling a bit gypped with this so-called vacation.  Whine, whine, whine.  We’re nearly out of milk, so I have to decide whether it’s worth a venture out.  I could get out of the driveway without sliding the van into the truck, but getting the van safely back in the garage is another story.  Our cul-de-sac is very short on actual curb space, so street parking is almost impossible.

Snow is great fun for those who don’t have to drive in it, though!

I’m the world’s worst cookie maker.  I followed the recipes, and instructions, for both gingerbread and sugar cookies, but the dough didn’t roll properly, so I had a heck of a time making shapes.  I used the food processor, as directed by the instructions.  I may make another attempt before Christmas, if I can muster the wherewithall, but will use the stand mixer instead. I’m the only one who likes gingerbread, though, so won’t be making any more of that.

In the interest of home-made Christmas gifts, I made some posters for my 8 going on 12 year old nephew using the raster tool.  I like how they turned out and I think he will be pleased.

For my 12 going on 24 niece, I made an Audrey collection.  These are 8.5×11 glossy photos in 10×13 frameless frames (the photo shows their protective styrofoam), and should fill up quite a bit of her wall space.  She’s very inspired by the beautiful Ms. H, and I think she will be delighted.

Next up, therapeutic bath salts.  That is, if the peppermint oil I bought on eBay arrives in time.

before

small child, big mind, loud

dropped food, dropped dish, unhappy

tired, patience long worn

after

time out, minutes pass

words spoken, young mind meets old

until the next time

almost four

boundaries tested

it’s not easy being four

how I love that boy

I have so very much to be thankful for, but this…  …this lights up my life and fills my cup to overflowing.

Bliss.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Maybe I should be calling you GB instead of LB, my Giggle Box, Gorgeous Boy, Googlie Bear.  You are just so darned adorable, especially when you giggle.  And I hate to stifle you in any way, but when I have an international teleconference discussing very important work matters, it would certainly help my fragile semblance of professionalism if you could, ummmmm, keep it down a bit?

It’s a very good thing that I have a mute button on my headset.  It’s also a good thing that I didn’t need to contribute much to the discussion.

You are so much more active during the day than your brother was.  I recall he slept most of the time during my working hours, up until he was five months old.   You, on the other hand, are a GIGGLE BOX!!  Which I love.  Absolutely adore.  However.  I think I will be sending you to daycare after we herald in the new year.  Because, how can I concentrate on the serious matters of Corporate America when I’ve got a Googlie Bear Giggle Box bouncing away in his bouncy chair at my feet?  I ask you!  So I’ve just perused my work calendar, and it looks like I have between 10 to 14 working days until the new work year begins, depending on how many vacation days I take.  I think we’ll be able to make it.

I’m sure going to miss you, but that will just make the moments when I do see you all the more sweet.  Prepare to be covered in kisses!

The things a not-quite-four-year-old says are something, aren’t they?

The other day I mused to BB, “I wonder what you’re going to be when you grow up…”

And his reply?  “A GROWNUP!”  (Duhhhhh, Mommy.  What else would I be?)

After a little further clarification of what I meant, he promptly said, “I’m going to work in dirty jobs where I can get muddy all over.”

~*~*~*~

On election day, he pointed to the TV and asked who that was.  “It’s Barack Obama,” I said, surprised that it even got his attention.

“What’s a rocko bomma?”

He went on to ask about what a president was, but I was soon in over my head.

~*~*~*~

We’re working on the concept of lying.  We’ve got a long way to go.  If I say, “No Lying!” he thinks I’m saying something that makes very little sense about tawny colored beasts with sharp claws that roar.

He’s taken to claiming that “it was a accident” in order to avoid further trouble, but I say “I know it was on purpose, and if you say it was an accident, you’re lying.”  And then he’s off thinking of tawny colored roaring beasts again.  What I need to say is “if you say it’s an accident when it’s not an accident, that is a LIE, and that’s not nice.”  Or something like that.  Lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

~*~*~*~

We still get the discussions about forbidden words.  Out of the blue.  “Mommy, I’m not allowed to say dammit, because it’s a bad word, so I don’t say dammit, just Daddy does sometimes when he’s mad, he can say dammit, because he’s a grown up, but I can’t say dammit, so I don’t say dammit.”

~*~*~*~

Sitting with the baby while I was in the kitchen, “Are you happy I made a cup of me so he wouldn’t cry?”  That one took me a moment to figure out what he was saying.  “Yes, I’m very happy you kept him company so he wouldn’t cry.  Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

Here’s another conversation that we sometimes have.

“Mommy, do you like ___________s (insert wild animal)?”

“Yes.”

“NO!  No, no, no you don’t, because they’re dane-jrus and they will BITE you!”

“Well, you’re right, they ARE dangerous, but I like to see them in a safe place like the zoo, or watch them on TV.  Then I like them very much.”

~*~*~*~

He likes to recount the birth story:

When I was really little, I’d say “Whahhh, whahhhh, whahhhh” and I was little little in your tummy but I got bigg-o and bigg-o and went to the hostibo and the doktor cut your tummy and put staples in and I went “Whahhhh, whahhh, whahhh” and I hurt your boobies and you had to pump.

~*~*~*~

Any time in the past is “last day”…

“Last day, when we were sitting on the couch and I was being not nice and you hurted me and scratched-ded me like this (scratches his hand) and I was in trouble… ”

“That was an ACCIDENT, that I scratched you, even though you WERE acting up at the time.”

“Yes, oh yah, you wight, you wight, it was a accident, it wasn’t on purpose.”

~*~*~*~

Just this morning, while reaching in the pantry for a cereal box, I dropped a plastic canister and caused a loud commotion.

“What the hell are you DOING?”

“Okay, you know those words aren’t for you.  Sometimes Daddy says that, but we don’t say that.  Do you understand?”

“Why does Daddy say that?”

And these are conversations for which I don’t have a good and reasonable answer.  And kids, they’re so sharp, they pick up on everything.  Everything.

Finally!  I was beginning to worry (only slightly) when all the other babies were giggling and gurgling and being charming and engaging at six weeks, and mine was only sleeping and flatulating (and screaming).

He smiles!  And his eyes twinkle.  And I’m smitten more and more.  He glows in the dark, too.

Happy Halloween!

(Hello again, Gorgeous Boy!)

Counting today, I have three week days of leave remaining, and I find myself teetering on the brink of anxiety.  So there are things that I try to remind myself:

• there will always be laundry to wash, dry, fold, and put away
• there will always be dishes to wash, dry, and put away
• there will always be groceries to buy and meals to plan and prepare
• there will always be bills to pay, accounts to reconcile, errands to be run
• there will always be work to do
• there will not always be a teeny tiny snuggly baby to have and to hold

This helps me put things in perspective, when I begin to panic, wondering where the time has gone and find that my days are consumed with mostly mundane things, and that soon I will have to add to each day several hours of computer working time.  It’s not that I won’t have time for all that I have now.  I will just have to rearrange the manner in which I do things.  I spend a good amount of time each day pumping, and concurrently on the computer.  Soon I’ll be doing bona fide work during much of this time, so that should have little impact to the overall picture.  I’ll just be adding a few more hours to this.

Rather than be anxious and wistful that my leave is coming to an end, I should stop and smell the roses.  I should see the forest and the trees.  I should savor the teeny tiny snuggly baby times, because they are fleeting.

That being said, I love the middle of the night feedings the best.  My precious LB is mostly asleep and not fighting himself or me, and takes the bottle with little or no fuss.  When I pick him up he draws his little legs up to his body like a froggie, and I snuggle him close and listen to his funny rythmic feeding sounds, which are somewhere between a very softly braying donkey and a very softly honking goose.  I need to capture that sound!  Rather than try to sleep through the night, I’ve decided to do a pumping session between 2 and 4 a.m., as I’ve learned that there tends to be more milk during this time.  I feed him prior to pumping, so I’m awake enough to savor the time, aware of the smile on my face as I hear those funny sounds and feel the warmth of his tiny body snuggled close to mine.  It’s a magical, fleeting time that I treasure to the utmost.

As for everything else, I must try not to panic.  There is time for all of it.  It’s just life being lived.

Look at you, seven weeks old, in your six month snuggly and your brother, 3-3/4 years old in his size 6 jeans.  The two of you are giants.  Giants, I say!  I’m a bit sad having to put away your 3 month clothes already.

BB is much more excited by the appearance of the jungle, at this point.  But you will surely like it soon.  It has so many fun and interesting things to explore.  It’s a gift from your auntie C and uncle D, and it sure is neat!

You remind me of Kramer, from Seinfeld, in this picture.  Your hair cracks me up, and I mean that in the nicest way.

Have I told you lately that I think you’re gorgeous and I want to gobble you up?  Oh?  I did?  Well, I’m going to cover those cheeks in kisses, then.  Right NOW!!

p.s. I’m sorry I called you Mister Screams A Lot today when I didn’t hear the phone ring and missed an important message from my work by nearly three hours.  I’m still going to gobble you up!